Chapter 10 #2
Sinclairs, at least ten of them, perhaps more deeper in the trees. Too many for the small Sutherland party to fight unless their lives depended on it. So far, they’d made no hostile move, but at that thought, one of their men rode forward. “Who are ye and what are ye doing on Sinclair land?”
“We’re searching the coast for a lost birlinn,” Stellan answered, carefully not revealing his clan.
“A lost birlinn, ye say? We seem to have found one.”
Stellan’s heart lurched in his chest. “Where? With its crew?”
“No’ far from the Sinclair keep, and nay, no’ with its crew.”
Stellan squeezed his eyes shut. It was a foolish thing to do in the face of an enemy patrol, but the pain that lanced through his belly could have been caused by the man’s sword in his gut rather than his words.
Anders! His mental shout was powered by the anguish and fear filling him. Where are ye, Brother?
The silence, both physical and within his mind, was unnerving.
He felt Tormund shift beside him. “Have ye seen any strangers along the coast?”
Tormund’s question dragged Stellan back from the agony within him.
“Nay.”
“Then we must continue to search,” Stellan ground out. “As soon as we find our men, or what happened to them, we’ll leave Sinclair. Peacefully.”
The Sinclair patrol chief signaled to his men. They rode slowly out of the woods and surrounded the Sutherlands. “Ye’ll come with us and speak to the laird. He’ll decide what to do with ye.”
Stellan was torn. He wanted to continue what they’d spent the last three days doing, looking for his brother and his crew, despite its futility.
Becoming prisoners of Sinclair would prevent that.
If Anders and his men were not there, going with the Sinclair patrol would be a mistake.
But before they showed up, he’d nearly convinced himself the Sinclair keep had to be where the Sutherlands were.
He glanced at Tormund, who nodded. Stellan turned back to the Sinclair scout, took a breath and said, “Aye, we’ll go with ye.
We dinna want any trouble. We just want our men back. ”
“Ye dinna ken if they’re even alive.”
He was right, but Stellan hated to hear the words spoken.
“How long have ye been away from the Sinclair castle?”
“Three days on patrol along Sinclair’s borders south and east,” the man answered. “We turned for home this morning, and now we’ve caught up to ye.”
Hope bloomed in Stellan’s chest. “So, they couldha been found, but ye wouldna ken it.”
He nodded. “For yer sake, I hope they have been. Let’s go.”
Stellan flicked the reins and got his horse moving, following the patrol chief, grateful that Tormund stayed by his side. The Sinclair had been cordial, but if anything changed and they had to fight, they might not win, but they’d take as many Sinclairs to hell with them as they could.
The next morning, Lady Sinclair drafted Ailsa to help her and Cook inventory the keep’s provisions.
“Since we now have so many strangers with us, someone will surely come looking for them. Until then, we must feed them. And if trouble comes with their clan, we must be ready for a siege. We must have food on hand for people and animals to last several months. That means we must be certain to have a good supply of flours, grains, vegetables and the like, as well as the meat the men will bring from the hunt.”
“A siege? Truly? Why would we no’ release them?” Ailsa asked. “They’ve offered nay hostility.”
“Nay, they havena, but neither have they revealed their clan. And they are no’ like Anders, who says he canna recall his. They are hiding who they are. Why?”
“Because they want to leave without causing trouble?”
“Once they do reveal their clan, yer da willna release them. He’ll try to ransom them. That will bring their clansmen.”
Ailsa crossed her arms. “What if they dinna agree to pay a ransom? What then?”
“We must hope it doesna come to that.”
“What does Da hope to gain by antagonizing a strange clan?”
“Gold? Cattle? That birlinn they abandoned along the coast? There is much Sinclair could benefit from.”
“Or many Sinclairs could starve to death over the winter before a siege gets resolved.” Ailsa’s belly hollowed at the thought of the possible hardship facing them. “Da should talk to them, then let them go.”
Her mother ignored her. “Cook, ye ken what to do. I need a list of supplies and amounts, the status of harvesting the kitchen gardens and orchard, how long they’re likely to last. The laird has sent men out to hunt, so ye will have a good supply of meat to salt, and as long as the weather cooperates, the lads will fish.
The stable master and head fisherman are aware.
If trouble starts, the orchard may be denied to us since it lies outside the inner wall.
’Tis too soon to harvest much ripe fruit, damn it.
Still, I hope if that wall is breached, the attackers dinna destroy the trees. ”
Cook nodded, her expression grim.
Ailsa listened with dismay a heavy weight on her chest. There was so much at stake.“What else must be done to protect us?”
Lady Sinclair turned to her. “Yer da is meeting with Raghnall and the keep’s craftsmen, the blacksmith, stonemason, and such.
They’ll ensure we have sufficient weapons and ironmongery on hand, and that any weak spots in the walls are repaired.
” She crossed her arms, clearly worried.
“We canna ken how long a siege might last. ’Twill be hard on all of us if it lasts into the winter. ”
“And the men in the dungeon? Hardest of all on them?” Ailsa hated to ask the question, but the course her father seemed determined to set Sinclair on was a path that would lead, at least, to trouble. At worst, to many deaths. No wonder her mother looked fraught.
“’Twill depend on who those men are, what yer da demands of their clan, and whether their clan will negotiate for them,” Ailsa’s mother told her while Cook put her lasses to work helping with her stores.
“I’m going to take one of the lads with me and count what we have in the buttery.
The spirits housed there will help keep morale up, but they can also be used as weapons to drop fire on troops below our walls. ”
Ailsa took Maesie out into the garden to estimate what would be ready for harvest and when while Ailsa took notes.
Her mother’s words kept running through her mind.
Not only were they preparing to ensure people within Sinclair’s walls survived, they could drop fire onto a clan outside.
And let the men in the dungeon starve. Or worse.
She’d always known such was possible, but never thought to see it happen.
The reality of it made her want to weep.
“Ailsa! Are ye listening to me?” Maesie demanded, clearly cross with having to keep repeating what she told her.
“Sorry, aye. Nay. I ken we have to finish this, but I’m fashed about why. Da shoulda let those men go.”
“But he didna, so we have a job to do.”
“Aye, we do.” Ailsa prayed they never had to depend on the stores the clan had saved to get through a siege and the coming winter.