Chapter Twenty-One
Rubbing her arms to ease the bite of the chill predawn air, Moira gritted her teeth against the urge to pace.
Tavig and the others had only been gone a few minutes, slipping away to be swallowed up by the shadowy mists curling over the land.
It was too soon to feel so tense, so concerned, yet her stomach was tied in knots.
She looked at the three beardless youths who had been left behind to guard the horses, her, and Una.
The swords hanging from their slender hips looked too big for them.
Their sullen faces revealed that they ached to use them, however, and deeply resented being left behind.
Moira knew she ought to feel at least a little guilty for being one of the causes of their unhappiness, but she felt not a twinge of guilt.
They were far too young to be going off to battle.
She knew their mothers would be delighted because they had been forced to stay behind, safely away from the fighting.
“Moira,” Una murmured, only briefly opening her eyes to peek at her cousin from her resting place under a tree, “ye are so taut I can almost feel it.”
“I cannae help it. I am worried.” She shook her head. “Your serenity leaves me somewhat envious.”
“Oh, I am not completely serene.”
“Ye certainly look like ye are.”
“I am verra tired. Mungan felt that sleeping was a waste of time before a battle. He kept me verra busy.”
“That doesnae really surprise me.” She blushed a little as she recalled Tavig’s sensual greed as well as her own.
“Also, I dinnae believe in getting all twisted up in knots of fear and concern over things I cannae change. I was worried and all the rest while this was being planned. Tried to convince Mungan not to do it. Said he didnae need to help his cousin this much. He just patted my cheek and said it was proper for a wife to worry so over her husband. That was when I might have stopped all of this and I wasnae able to. Now I just have to wait until ’tis all done and over with. ”
“While I find this waiting the hardest thing to do.”
Una snuggled deeper into her cape and murmured sleepily, “They will be back. I just cannae imagine anything happening to Mungan. Nothing truly bad anyway. Mungan was just far too alive last night.”
Moira sighed and let her cousin go to sleep.
She had not known Mungan Coll long, but she found herself a little suspicious of his need to make love to Una all night long, almost without respite.
Even Tavig had indulged in a nap or two.
It was possible that Mungan made a habit of such a thing before each battle.
It was also possible that he hoped to leave Una just as exhausted as she was, so exhausted that she did not have the strength to worry or succumb to her fears for him and do something foolish.
She briefly wished that Tavig had been so clever, then shrugged.
It would not have worked. No matter how exhausted she was she would never be able to sleep while Tavig faced a man who wanted him dead and had already gone to great lengths to try to accomplish that.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them close to her body.
Despite the obscuring fog and shadows, she stared toward Drumdearg.
Soon the sounds of battle would shatter the stillness enveloping them.
She knew she would suffer the fear that each sound could be the one announcing Tavig’s death.
Moira shivered. This was going to be the longest day of her life.
Tavig whispered a curse as he knelt next to Mungan and the stiff grasses cut into his shins.
After a slow, tedious crawl up to Drumdearg’s outer walls, he ached with the need to take action.
Such stealth was necessary, but he did not enjoy it at all.
He waited tensely for the man Mungan had sent off to return with the word that they could begin to slip inside the walls.
Above him he could hear the slow movements of the guards, even occasional snatches of conversation.
The fear of discovery was a tight knot in his stomach.
He was so close that any failure now would be, if not deadly, certainly unbearable.
“Be at ease, Cousin,” Mungan whispered, his mouth close to Tavig’s ear so that their soft words would not reach the men on the walls. “Soon ye will face that traitorous bastard and regain all he has stolen. Aye, and avenge our murdered friends.”
“Being so close is nearly as torturous as not being able to do anything.” Tavig saw the flash of Mungan’s teeth in the gray light and returned his cousin’s understanding grin. “I should also prefer to challenge our cousin directly rather than slipping inside like a thief.”
“This place was built too weel for making direct challenges. Ah, here comes my mon Ranald.” When the slender dark man crouched beside Mungan, he asked, “Have our allies done as they promised?”
“Aye,” replied Ranald, casting a nervous glance upward, obviously fearing they might be overheard. “We must slip round to the main gate. They will be waiting there. The gate has been eased open enough for us to slide underneath.”
“A slow way to enter. We could easily be cut down ere we get all the men inside,” said Tavig.
“These men are the guards for the gate. We have until the sun begins to clear the horizon before that guard is changed. It should be long enough to get us all inside. We shall have to crowd into the narrow towers on either side, but once the men are in, we can act immediately.”
“Aye, and I think we should first send the men who are to take the walls. They must be able to hie up the stairs to the walls within those towers the moment the last mon is inside.”
Mungan nodded. “Aye, the walls must be taken as soon as possible. Tell those men to go now, Ranald.” He looked at Tavig as Ranald crept away. “Ye will go last.”
“Last? ’Tis my battle, more than any other mon’s. If not for the need to clear the walls, I would go in first.”
“And if this fails ye would be the first to be captured or killed. Then Iver has won. ’Tis why I will also go in after my men, though it galls me to do so.
Iver willnae want me to live long, either, as he kens I will make him pay for his crimes.
If this is a trap, ’tis best if one of our men is caught.
Then we are free to continue the battle. ”
“I ken ye are right and I even share your thoughts, but that doesnae mean I must like it.” He heard the muffled tread of a guard pass along the wall over their heads, and fell silent until he was gone. “I also ache to see those traitors cast from my walls.”
“Ye will soon hold Drumdearg again.”
“Aye, ye will,” whispered a raspy voice from the other side of Tavig.
Tavig turned slowly, his hand on his dagger.
There was no threatening move from the shadowy figures who had managed to creep up to him unseen and unheard.
He realized they could have already cut his throat if they had been inclined to.
Peering harder through the misty shadows they all huddled in, it was a moment before he could discern a craggy face that was immediately familiar.
“Old Ennis,” he whispered in a hearty breath of relief. “Who is with ye?”
“O’er a dozen of your men-at-arms. More men will soon arrive. We were the readiest.”
“I thought ye had all been killed or fled.”
“Aye, but we didnae run verra far. We kenned ye would return and wished to be near at hand.”
“Good, we have need of every mon we can muster.”
After pausing to let the guard on the wall pass by, Old Ennis said, “I regret that the mon we fight is your kinsmon.”
“As do I, but Iver leaves us no choice. Feel no hesitation to treat him and his hirelings as the enemies they are. E’en if I could reach a truce with Iver, and there is no hope of that, he must pay for the murders he committed.
” The old man nodded, and Tavig said, “Few believed his claim that I had done it?”
“Verra few. Mayhap folk erred in keeping the truth to themselves, but o’er the years, Iver has done a lot ye dinnae ken about. He was the first one we all suspected when those heinous murders were done. Nothing he has said since has changed our minds.”
As he adjusted his heavily padded jupon, Tavig risked leaning away from the walls to look behind Old Ennis.
He was sure there were more than a dozen men now.
None of them wore armor, either, to maximize the surprise attack, the same as he and Mungan and their men.
Tavig was sure Old Ennis had ordered that, as he was a battle-hardened man, knowledgeable in the ways of war.
It was good to have such men on his side.
“We best go now, Cousin,” said Mungan.
Nodding to the men behind him, Tavig replied, “We willnae be the last in.”
“It ne’er hurts to have a few good men at your back.”
Mungan began to move along the wall. After signaling Old Ennis to follow, Tavig started after his cousin. He winced at every sound they made even though they were so faint they could never carry to the ears of the guards. As he inched toward the gates he prayed that nothing would go wrong.
The light from the torches within Drumdearg spilled out of the small opening in the gates.
Tavig was surprised the guards had not noticed it.
Mungan edged through the opening, his large size making it a tight squeeze.
There was no warning cry from his cousin, so Tavig quickly followed.
Once inside, a heavily bearded man he recognized as Graeme, a distant cousin, quickly grabbed him and shoved him into the tower to the left of the gates.