Chapter Nine #2
“Are ye certain?” Annys said, pulling away from Harcourt enough to look at Gybbon. “I saw what ye did but, although I cannae think of anything else that could have caused such marks, I am nay skilled at reading such signs. And I am nay sure I am thinking too clearly, either.”
“Verra sure. Someone dragged the lad over there”—Gybbon pointed to the small cluster of trees where they had seen the signs of horses having waited in place—“where two riders waited. Then only one person returned here. By the depth of the prints, I believe that person wasnae carrying the boy back. He had to have been given over to the riders.”
Harcourt studied the ground and then signaled to Callum. “Go see if there is a trail for us to follow.” As Callum and Tamhas hurried off to have a look, Harcourt held Annys close again. “We will find the boy.”
“He must be so afraid,” she whispered, fighting the urge to weep and rant.
“He is a sturdy lad.” He glanced down at the drag marks. “He fought hard.”
“Why didnae we hear him calling out then?”
“Tied and gagged.” He tightened his hold when she shuddered.
“We will find him, Annys, and if anyone has given the lad e’en a bruise, he is a dead man.
” He looked down at her. “Ye must find out who the traitor is. That will be your task. Ours is to find Benet and make certain the ones who took him pay dearly for it.”
“Harcourt,” Callum called as he ran back to them. “Look there.” He pointed back in the direction he had come from. “As far back as ye can look but be quick or ye will miss it.”
A small white shape caught Harcourt’s eye. “Is that Roberta? A sheep cannae track anyone.”
Callum shrugged. “Try to look closer to the ground.”
Harcourt did and cursed in surprise. “’Tis that cat.”
“Roban?” Annys pulled out of his arms and stared hard in the direction all the men were looking. “My cat is following them? Can ye nay use that?”
“Aye, we can, although I willnae swear it will be all that reliable, ’tis worth a try. Be at ease, love.” He gave her a quick kiss. “We will bring Benet home.”
A moment later she was alone. She watched the men until they disappeared from view but could not tear her gaze from where they had last been. A hand touching her arm startled her out of the stupor of blind fear she had fallen into. Annys abruptly turned and nearly knocked Joan to the ground.
“Oh, I am so verra sorry, Joan,” she said, catching the woman by the arms to steady her.
Joan hugged her. “I startled you. Ye have naught to apologize for.” She looked in the direction the men had gone. “Do they have a trail to follow?”
“Aye.” Annys took Joan by the hand and showed her everything she and Gybbon had found. “One of our own took my child and gave him to someone who wants him dead.” She was torn between the aching need to rage and to weep.
“And when we find the one, she will pay dearly,” Joan vowed.
“Ye think it is a woman, too, dinnae ye.”
“Aye.” Joan pointed at the drag marks in the dirt.
“No mon would have dragged the lad along like that. A mon would have just picked him up. Aye, might e’en have just knocked the lad senseless.
A woman will oftimes just keep pulling a recalcitrant child along, using her greater strength that way.
” Joan looked closer at the footprints. “Smaller feet than a mon would have, too.”
Annys stared at Joan in surprise. “How do ye ken such things?”
Joan shrugged. “I just notice things more than some do. And with all the footprints I have had to help mop up, I just ken some of the differences.”
“I truly need to pay more attention to the world around me. There is one odd thing that has happened that might actually prove helpful. That lamb and my cat were going in the same direction as the ones who took Benet rode in, as if they were tracking him like some pack of dogs.”
“Both can follow a scent verra weel.”
“A sheep can?”
“Aye, a dam can find her lamb e’en in a packed flock. Ye want to find water then put a thirsty sheep in the field and follow it. I suspicion that lamb kens just what our lad smells like. Come back to the keep. We shouldnae be out here unguarded and ye need to eat something.”
“Someone has a key to the bolt-hole. Someone other than me, ye, and Dunnie.”
“And Nicolas,” Joan whispered, stunned by that news. “We need to find out whose key is missing.” She looked down at the keys hanging from Annys’s belt. “Nay yours then. Food and then we hunt down all the keys.”
With a last look in the direction the men had gone, Annys allowed Joan to take her back to the keep.
Harcourt held up his hand and everyone stopped, dismounting when he did.
At times he had felt foolish following a lamb and a cat but what signs he had seen along the way had revealed that the men who had taken Benet were indeed riding in this direction.
Crouching low, he and his men crept forward until they found the campsite of the men they had been following.
The cat was up in a tree close by, lying on a branch overlooking the boy, and the lamb stood at the base of the tree, staring in the direction of Benet.
Rage seized Harcourt when he saw the boy tied up and sitting on the ground.
He had to fiercely battle the urge to race into the camp and begin killing every man there.
The risk to his son was all that held him back.
There were eight men in the camp and only five in Harcourt’s group.
Planning was needed. He signaled the others to move back so that they could talk without risk of being overheard only to have the chance to plan anything taken away.
Roberta trotted into the camp, bleating, and heading straight for Benet.
All eight men stared at the lamb and then the tallest one grinned. “Seems we will be feasting on lamb tonight, lads.”
“Nay!” screamed Benet, struggling to stand up. “Run, Bertie! Run away!”
Chaos erupted as the men tried to grab the lamb, Benet screaming all the while and trying to wriggle free of his bonds.
Harcourt shook his head. He looked at his companions and they just grinned and shrugged.
Harcourt thought it over for a moment. The only real cost to waiting for things to settle down and make an attack easier would be the life of the lamb.
One look at a frantic, crying Benet told him he could not do it.
“Kill or hobble, but get as many of the fools down as ye can.” He sighed and shook his head. “Dinnae risk yourselves but try to keep that witless animal from being killed.”
They all stood up, drew their swords, and charged.
Three men fell quickly due to the shock of the attack.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he faced off with the tall man who had wanted Roberta for his meal, Harcourt saw Benet still huddled on the ground but much closer to the trunk of the tree and with the lamb pressed hard up against his chest. He was safe, the fighting going on away from where he was, so Harcourt turned all his attention to the man he was facing.
The man turned out to be skilled with his sword.
Harcourt found himself in a true battle for his life.
He took a wound to his leg but kept standing as he repaid that with a slash to the man’s sword arm.
The man staggered and Harcourt took quick advantage, driving his sword deep into the man’s chest. He fell but, to Harcourt’s surprise, still had enough breath to bellow out an order to the survivors still fighting for their lives.
“Kill that brat!”
Harcourt ignored the pain in his thigh and the feel of the hot blood running down his leg, and raced to reach his son.
As he drew near, one of the kidnappers eluded Nicolas, knocked him down, and turned toward Benet, raising his sword to strike at the boy.
Harcourt did not think he could make it in time and Nicolas was struggling to his feet, dazed from a hard blow to the head.
Just as he bellowed out in pain, fearing he was about to see his child murdered, Harcourt saw a golden ball of fur drop from the tree limb and wrap itself around the attacker’s head, a whirlwind of claws and teeth.
Stumbling to get by Benet’s side, Harcourt watched in amazement as the man screamed and tried to grab hold of the cat that was tearing his face apart.
Nicolas rose to his feet, steady again, and called the cat by name, telling it to get down.
It did and Nicolas killed the man, not even waiting to see if he was still able to use a sword.
Benet looked at Harcourt. “They were going to eat Roberta.” He burst into tears.
Making certain it was safe to do so, Harcourt untied the boy and tugged him into his arms. The lamb moved to be by him and rest its head on his unwounded thigh.
Harcourt watched Roban sit down and begin to delicately clean its claws and he shook his head.
It was going to be impossible to complain about the beast now.
“All dead,” said Callum as he came to crouch by Harcourt and started to bandage his leg wound. “This will take a while to heal.” He glanced at Benet who was watching him. “Are ye hurt, lad?”
“Nay,” Benet said, stroking the lamb’s head. “They were going to kill Roberta.” He glanced at Roban. “I think that made Maman’s cat angry and he tried to rip out that mon’s eyeballs.”
“He certainly put up a good fight but I really think he was saving you.”
“Aye, that too, but I could hear him growling when the men were chasing Roberta around.” He frowned. “Why did ye bring them with you?”
Harcourt laughed even though it hurt. “Och, lad, we didnae bring them. They brought us. They were following you so we followed them.” It was weak but the smile that curved the boy’s mouth eased his concern for Benet.
“Now, we need to get ye back to Glencullaich so that the women can tend that wound with more care than I can,” said Callum. “Can ye ride?”