Chapter Fifteen
It was warm and quiet.
Gordie had spent the day leaning against the wall and pretending to be asleep while the Sassenach world went on around him.
Ever since they found him just inside the gatehouse, lying on the ground and wearing clothing that had been stolen off a dead English soldier, he lived in fear that his ruse would be discovered.
So far, it hadn’t been.
Not that it wouldn’t be at any given moment, but he’d managed to carry on the pretense of being a wounded English soldier since the fight at the gatehouse.
That skirmish had had the sole purpose of getting him inside and it had worked.
What they’d had to do, however, was kill an English soldier so they could take his clothing, and so far, Gordie had not heard anyone speaking about a missing English soldier.
Ean and the men had carted the body off when they retreated to the north, so the body more than likely would not be found anytime soon, if at all.
Things always tended to be a little chaotic after a battle as it was, so it was no surprise the English had not yet discovered that they were missing one of their men.
Hopefully, that would hold out until Gordie did what he needed to do.
The plan was this—Ean and the others were to retreat to the north and find a good hiding place.
No one was sure if the English would send out patrols after them, but so far, they hadn’t.
They seemed to be more concerned with repairing the gatehouse and tending the wounded.
If there were no patrols, then Ean and the men would return tomorrow at sunset, whereupon Gordie would make his way to the postern gate and unlock it.
The postern gate of an otherwise strongly fortified castle was used primarily by the kitchen and, in the case of Gleann na Fola, the door was so small that it looked as if it had been made for children.
Gordon remembered this from the days when the Scots used to hold the castle, back when he was a child.
However, if the English had bricked it up to ensure there was only one way in and one way out of the castle, then Gordie’s plans were for naught.
He would have to figure something else out.
Meanwhile, he intended to stay exactly where he was, pretending to be a wounded English soldier, presenting a head wound that Ean had given him.
They had to make Gordie look as if he had actually been injured, so a blow to the jaw had been the way to do that.
It created enough of a bloody mess, and a mild injury, without actually debilitating him.
The man needed to have his wits about him if he was going to execute the plan and, until sunset, it was going to be a waiting game.
But when the time came, the old man would be ready.
And so would the Scots.