Chapter 18 #3
“Ask ye? Nay. I’ve other plans for ye. Ye think ye have earned the laird’s good will after what ye did in the orchard? Ye’ll soon find out ’twill change naught.”
Anders glanced aside at Stellan and lifted his chin, his gaze making it clear he wanted his twin to move back out of range of whatever was about to happen. Their men couldn’t help. It was up to him to protect the brother their father considered his heir from whatever Boden had planned.
Anders was certain he knew. Ailsa had mentioned several times that Boden was eager to start tossing Sutherland captives over Sinclair’s walls.
But she’d always thought if he managed to talk their father into the foolishly bloodthirsty scheme, they’d save the twins for last. So, what was Boden doing now, asking for him first? Did the Sinclair know he was down here?
One of Boden’s men unlocked the cell door. Two more entered. Anders moved to block them from Stellan. They grabbed Anders by the arms and shoved him out into the space between the cells.
Stellan rushed forward, swearing, but the fourth guard slammed the cell door in his face.
The two with Anders yanked his hands behind his back and tried to bind them there.
Anders fought, twisted out of their grip and knocked one against the cell bars they’d pulled him from, then kicked the legs out from the other.
He had no doubt his life was at stake. He could not lose, even though he’d lost strength and stamina.
His injuries and time fighting a fever slowed him, and when the other two guards joined the fight, it was only a matter of time before all four subdued him. He didn’t intend to make it easy.
Four against one was hardly fair. Clearly, Boden never intended for any fight Anders put up to be fair. Boden laughed at every blow one of his men landed. He also laughed at every blow Anders landed on his men. Anders did some damage, but not enough.
The Sutherlands did what they could to help, grabbing at the Sinclairs through the bars.
Tomas got an arm across one guard’s throat and yanked his head against the bars hard enough to draw blood.
One of his fellows abandoned beating on Anders to rescue him from suffocating.
He slammed both fists down on Tomas’ arm to loosen his hold.
The Sutherlands in the cell with Tomas pulled him back out of reach, cradling his arm.
In the end, despite the curses the Sutherlands rained down on Boden’s men, they succeeded in binding Anders’ hands behind his back. Then each of them landed another blow to his midsection, doubling him over.
“Where are ye going? What are ye going to do with my brother?” Stellan demanded as they forced Anders upright and turned him toward the stairs.
Anders shook his head, trying to clear it. It spun and his belly threatened to erupt. It would serve Boden right if he spewed all over him. Failing that, any of those four guards would make a good target.
“Naught to do with ye,” Boden answered and jerked his chin upward. The guards with Anders shoved him toward the stairs. “I’m the only one with the cods to do what my da willna do himself.”
Given what Boden had argued for with his father, Anders hated the sound of that threat.
He fought to keep his feet under him. The beating had given him a new set of injuries and played havoc with his balance, especially with his hands bound behind him.
But he refused to be dragged anywhere. He fought to get his battered body under control or he’d have no hope at all of protecting himself.
“Does the Sinclair ken ye are doing this?”
Boden rewarded Stellan’s question with another laugh.
The other Sutherlands began beating on the bars holding them prisoner, tugging and shoving with their combined weight on the doors to their cells, and shouting invectives at Boden as he followed Anders and his men up the stairs.
Anders hurt everywhere. If he survived this, he’d be back in Maighread’s herbal for another indefinite stay.
He hoped Boden was so excited by the Sutherlands’ reaction that he would fail to notice the missing guard.
Anders’ life might depend on whether the guard who’d disappeared had made it into the keep to raise the alarm.
When they reached the top of the stairs and no more of Boden’s men guarded the dungeon’s entrance, Anders let himself hope.
The bailey was empty save for a lad headed from the stable toward the keep’s main door. Boden grabbed him by the arm and dragged him with them.
So, Boden didn’t want the lad to be able to report what he and his men were doing.
Where was everyone? The day was dim with clouds thick enough to obscure the sun and hide whether it was morning or midday or later.
Midday would make sense if most of the clan went in for their meal, leaving none outside but the guards on the wall walk.
Anders looked up. He could see three of them nearby, all with their attention on the ground outside the wall, not the men crossing the bailey with him.
“What do ye think ye’re doing?” Anders raised his voice, hoping they would hear him. Even if they saw them, they wouldn’t be able to get past Boden’s group into the keep, but perhaps any guards further along the wall would be able to. And these three would at least delay whatever Boden had planned.
“Ye’ll see,” Boden said as they reached the stairs to the wall walk. “Climb.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll kill ye here and these lads will carry yer body up and toss it over.”
Something in Boden’s eyes told Anders he was eager to do it.