Chapter Seventeen
No one had bothered him, no one had moved him.
Gordie was in the same place he had been since first being dragged into the great hall of Gleann na Fola.
He’d been feigning unconsciousness since last night and other than check his breathing from time to time, he’d been largely left alone by the women who were tending the wounded.
An older woman with a Scottish accent had tried to rouse him to take some nourishment once, but he hadn’t stirred, so she left him alone.
And that was what he wanted.
He could hear what was going on around him, however.
He could hear when wounded men were moved away or when they were able to get up on their own.
He wasn’t sure how many were left, but he was one of them, and toward the evening meal, two soldiers carried him out of the hall and into a chamber that was quite warm.
The hearth was blazing as they deposited the rest of the wounded from the hall into the smaller chamber so that they wouldn’t be disturbed and so the surgeon could tend them more easily.
When he was certain there was no one left in the chamber except for the wounded, he dared to open an eye to see where he was.
It was a tiny chamber, in fact, and he lifted his head to see that there were four other men in the room with him.
Out of all of those wounded from the battle, only five were left, including him.
The fire was burning brightly, staving off the ice radiating from the old stone walls, but Gordie was more concerned about where, exactly, he was and how he could escape the keep and get to the postern gate.
This chamber had no windows, so he couldn’t see what time it was by the setting of the sun, but he knew they had been moved out of the hall because the evening meal was approaching.
That meant it was nearing sunset.
He had to get out of that chamber.
Gordie lowered his head, lying back down and wondering what he should do next.
He was afraid that if the surgeon or one of the women returned and found a wounded man missing, they might go looking for him.
If they found him before he was able to open the postern gate, then all of the work to get him to this point would be for naught.
However, given the fact that he knew he had to act quickly, he simply couldn’t wait around any longer.
His clan was waiting for him.
Sitting up again, Gordie looked around the chamber to see if there would be any witnesses to his leaving.
The four men seemed to be sleeping, or at least their eyes were closed, and given that these were the most severely injured in the battle at the gatehouse, they weren’t in any condition to do anything other than rest. Gordie climbed to his feet, silently, making his way to the chamber door and peering outside to see if there was anyone around.
There wasn’t.
Quietly, he made his way out of the chamber, realizing that he was on the lower level of the keep.
The entry was directly to his left and although he thought he heard a servant moving around off to his right, he didn’t see anyone.
He did, however, hear voices on the level above because the big staircase leading up to the hall was directly in front of him.
He could make it to the keep entry undetected if he went at this very moment, so he did.
For an old man, he moved swiftly. Yanking open the entry door, he bolted out into the dusk.
Now, he knew where he was. There were men around, but no one close by, at least no one who might stop him.
He was still dressed as an English soldier and that was his saving grace.
Trying not to appear suspicious, or if he were running, he made his way around the east side of the keep, spying the kitchen yard directly ahead.
Unfortunately, there were people here.
That brought him pause. Indecisive, he turned toward the south where the bulk of the lower bailey was.
It was where the gatehouse was located, where he’d entered, and he could see that the lower bailey was full of people.
There were makeshift shelters down there.
Back toward the north where the kitchen yard was, several people were milling around and he could see that they were receiving food from two enormous iron pots that were bubbling over the open flame.
Fortunately, everyone seemed focused on the food and not on an English soldier walking timidly toward the kitchen yard.
Then, he saw it.
The postern gate was off to his right.
The ground sloped here and there was a path down to the gate, through the berms. He didn’t remember these defensive features from when he was a lad, but, indeed, a muddy path led down the slope and to the small postern gate, which didn’t seem to look any different than it had when he was a child.
But one significant thing had changed.
Over the years, mud and earth had built up around the base of the gate so that when Gordie was able to throw the bolt to open it, the gate hardly opened wide enough for a man to pass through.
There was too much debris built up at the bottom of it.
Realizing this, Gordie looked around for something to clear the dirt away and only came up with a rock.
Given this area was an ancient riverbed, there was good deal of rock around, the same rock the castle had been built out of, so he took that rock and began clearing the dirt away.
By some miracle, nobody noticed.
Working quickly, and getting mud all over himself, Gordie managed to clear away enough mud that he was able to pull the postern gate almost all the way open.
It was smaller than he remembered—or perhaps he was simply larger and it therefore seemed smaller than he remembered—but he was able to get through it with no problem.
That small, thick, highly fortified door led to a steep slope outside the walls, with a slippery path descending to the moat below.
The moat.
That was going to be a problem because it was a clogged mess of debris. Gordie wasn’t sure how deep it was, but it was so disgusting that no man in his right mind would try to cross that swamp.
Except Ean.
Gordie began hoping his nephew would show himself soon because he wasn’t sure how long the English would stay oblivious to the postern gate being opened.
Therefore, he made his way back to the gate and pulled it closed, as much as he could without shutting it completely.
At least this way, it would look closed to anyone glancing at it.
He had to keep it this way until the clan arrived.
As the sun set completely, Gordie sat by that little gate and waited.
And waited.
If they managed to pull this off, it would be a damn bloody miracle.