Chapter Twelve
Ferguson.
Johnstone.
Those were the only clans who would consider supporting Westerkirk since Ean had sent his spies out, spreading lies, and even then, the clans had only sent about forty men total.
That hardly bolstered his numbers. It was fewer than what he’d had before.
But he consoled himself with the fact that sometimes, a smaller, more focused group of men could do more damage.
One man, rightly placed, could bring down a kingdom.
That was what he needed to do.
Bring down a kingdom.
On a cold, bright morning, Ean and his men began heading for the Valley of Blood.
Uncle Gordie had come up with the plan to destroy Gleann na Fola with the least amount of bloodshed and his plan was simple—all they had to do was get a man inside the castle.
Everyone knew that Gleann na Fola was virtually impenetrable, which meant the man couldn’t scale the walls or dig underneath it or breach it in a normal fashion.
The man that got inside the castle was going to have to use luck and intelligence, and, unable to come up with a suitable candidate, Gordie decided that it should be him.
He might have been an old man, but he knew how to operate.
Therefore, he was traveling with his warriors this morning.
The ground was wet and dew lay heavily upon the land.
As the sun began to rise, all of that moisture glistened like diamonds on the hillsides as they made their way toward the northern end of the Valley of Blood.
They had scouts out in front of them ensuring that their path to their destination was unimpeded or, at the very least, kept them safe from English patrols.
And there were plenty of those all around, as was normal with the House of de Wolfe.
They always had a dozen patrols at any given time along the border, ensuring that the Scots stayed on their side.
Ironically, Gleann na Fola was on the Scottish side of the border.
It just happened to belong to the House of de Wolfe, all in the name of keeping the Scottish border secure.
The House of de Wolfe had several castles in Scotland and there wasn’t one clan that had tried to run them out over the years, mostly because William de Wolfe was married to a woman from Clan Scott and there were several clans that viewed that as both a kinship and an alliance.
But there were also several that didn’t.
One of those was Maxwell.
Bailie Castle was about a day’s travel from the heart of the Valley of Blood.
If a man traveled swiftly on foot, he could make it in good time, and it was Ean’s intention that they should make it to the southern end of the valley by nightfall.
That would give them an entire night to lay forth their plans and somehow manage to get Uncle Gordie inside.
Gordie happened to know the castle from when he was a young lad, so he knew the fortifications and he knew the layout.
When the House of de Wolfe took charge of the castle, however, they’d reinforced the fortifications and dug berms into the side of the hill that the castle was on, so now it was an incredibly fortified location.
However, Gordie was confident that he could somehow get inside.
Or die trying.
The truth was that almost three hundred Scots could do some damage, but not enough.
Not enough to truly hurt.
And they needed to hurt.
“Lad?” Gordie was walking next to Ean now, something he’d not done since they left Bailie. There was tension between them, something not easily dissolved, but Gordie was the more reasonable of the two. Things had to be said. “I’ve been thinking about our approach tae Gleann na Fola.”
Ean was looking straight ahead, at the rolling hills to the south. Beyond them was the valley they sought. “What is it?” he said.
Gordie glanced at his stubborn nephew. “We spoke of breaching the castle,” he said. “We’ve spoken of me getting inside. I was there as a child, several times. I know that castle.”
“Go on with it. I’ve not got all day.”
Gordie shook his head faintly at the sheer belligerence of the man, even when dealing with someone who was, by all accounts, putting himself in danger for the very clan that Ean ruled over.
“Did ye ever stop tae thing how I’d get inside?” Gordie said.
Ean looked at him, frowning. “Of course I have,” he said. “I’m not daft.”
“Then tell me how.”
That only seemed to make Ean angrier. “Dunna be stupid,” he said. “That’s why we’re going tae build ladders. Tae get over the walls. That’s how we’ll get ye inside.”
Gordie sighed faintly. “Nay, lad,” he said. “That’s not how I’ll get inside. That’s how ye’ll get every man killed.”
Ean suddenly came to a halt and grabbed Gordie by the arm. “Then what are ye saying?”
Gordie pulled his arm out of Ean’s grip. “I’m saying that building ladders tae mount the walls will only get men killed,” he said. “Our brethren will be climbing the ladders as the Sassenach fire bolts at them. Do ye want that?”
Ean was close to exploding. “Then what do ye want tae do, old man?” he barked. “We spoke of mounting the walls back at Bailie and ye never said a word about it. What now?”
Gordie was truly ashamed for his brother that the man’s son was such an imbecile.
“Because I dinna want tae correct ye in front of the men,” he said.
“Ean, the only way this will work is if ye draw out the Sassenach. Ye have tae make them want tae open the gatehouse. Once they do that, we can fight them. Otherwise, they’re going tae murder us. ”
Ean wasn’t quite following him, but at least he wasn’t refuting his idea. “Draw them out?” he said. “How? They willna want tae leave the castle once we arrive.”
“They will if we raid the village tae the south.”
Ean stared at him, all of the fury suddenly drained from his face. “A raid?”
Gordie nodded. “Aye,” he said. “A few of us raid the village and when the English come tae chase us off, the rest of us rush the gatehouse. We can get in that way. They’ll never know what happened until it’s too late.”
Up ahead, one of Ean’s men was shouting at him, waving his arms, trying to catch his attention. Both Ean and Gordie turned in the man’s direction, seeing that he was excited about something.
Gordie gave Ean a push.
“Go,” he said quietly. “Tell the men what we intend tae do. Send about ten or so intae the village and tell them tae burn it. Do what they can. It has tae be enough tae draw the Sassenach out of Gleann na Fola.”
He was going to let Ean claim the idea, which was as it should be as far as Ean was concerned. With a lingering glance at his uncle, he ran on ahead, to where his youngest and bravest warriors were gathering, and told them of the raid on the village south of Gleann na Fola.
Something to lure the Sassenach out of their castle.
Something that would start the chaos they intended.
The plan was set.