“Right, ma lady.” Bethea turned to a passing servant and conveyed Abigail’s orders. Abigail still knew few servants by name. “I’m going to the bailey, Bethea. The storage buildings first, then back up to the battlements. Then I’ll come back to the kitchens.”
“I’ll ken where to look for ye.” Bethea nodded her head in approval, impressed that Abigail thought to tell someone of her whereabouts. If the MacLeods breached the keep, she would be a primary target. Bethea would know where to send people to search for her. Abigail pulled the front of her skirts high enough to keep from tripping over them and tucked them into her belt. She made her way back out to the bailey as villagers continued to pour through the gates. She ordered guards to take the women and children to the granary, then pointed the servants with the supplies she requested in the right direction. She made a detour to the postern gate to tell the guard to expect villagers to arrive by boat and to urge them to use that gate since it was closer to the docks.
Abigail climbed another set of steps up to the battlements, shielding her eyes from the glare off the water. The boats were still small dots on the horizon, seeming not to have grown closer. She looked for the man assigned as captain of the guard while Clyde was away. She spotted him and called out. She slipped and slid her way to him. “Get the wall walk cleared of snow. Now. Do we have cauldrons and tar or oil?”
The man looked startled by Abigail’s order and question. He nodded before he scowled at her, clearly deciding he didn’t enjoy taking orders from her. She returned his glare in equal measure. When he opened his mouth to speak, she snapped, “Dinna even think to disagree with me. Ye ken both things need doing. The laird and his tánaiste arenae here. I am, and I’m chatelaine to this castle. I’m responsible for every person within these walls. That includes men who dinna need to break their necks while trying to defend our people. Clear the snow, even if it means ye’re on yer hands and knees scooping it. Get the fires lit. I’ll make sure yer men can get into the storerooms. Do it now.”
The man looked at Abigail once more, then nodded. She watched him spin on his heels and start issuing commands to his men. She worked her way back to the kitchens, weaving through people running to find shelter. She scanned the wall walk, pleased to see more men on sentry. She yanked the door open and stepped inside. She locked eyes with Maisie, who looked terrified and resolute at the same time. Abigail suspected her expression matched the head cook’s.
“If this is a long battle, the men will need food and ale. Have food set aside for them. More than for the villagers. There’s naught for it. The men need it more. Where’s the pitch stored?”
“In the storeroom closest to the fletchers.”
“I’m going there now. Have men gather wood to bring in here, so once the fight begins, none of you have to leave. Get torches lit and in all the sconces where you and the women will hide.”
“Where we will be? Where are ye going?”
“I don’t ken yet. But have them as weapons. It’ll keep men from coming within reach of you.” Abigail looked at the keys hanging from her belt. “Do you ken which one opens the storeroom with the tar?”
Maisie rushed forward and examined the keys before she picked one. Impulsively, the cook pulled Abigail into her embrace. The exchange took both off-guard, but Abigail hugged Maisie in return. “Dinna do aught foolish, ma lady. Remember the laird loves ye.”
“I ken. And I love him. I’m going to do my best to make sure he has a home to come back to.” Abigail spun away and made for the storeroom. She signaled men to come with her before she unlocked the door, issuing orders that they take all of it to the wall walk. She spied Bethea on the steps by the main door. She made her way to the housekeeper.
“Blankets, water, and buckets are with the women and weans. They ken nae to go down below until they must. I see ye have the pitch going up and wood too. I saw ye speaking to Norman. I’m guessing he didna take to ye suggesting what he should have started the moment the warning went up.”
“Likely not, but I don’t care. He can deal with me later. When we live through this. Where will you go when the fight starts?”
“To the kitchens with Maisie and the others. She told me aboot yer idea with the torches. I didna think of that.”
“Where’s Angus?”
“The armory or the blacksmith’s.”
“That’s where I’m headed, then the fletchers. Go back inside and make certain there are no papers left out in Ronan’s solar. If you can lock his desk, then do it. Lock his solar, too. Make sure the guards in the keep ken to block the chamber. I don’t know what Ronan keeps in there, but it doesn’t belong in another clan’s hands.”
“Aye, ma lady. Where will ye go?”
“I don’t know, Bethea. Not because I don’t know where to go,” Abigail clarified as Bethea started to speak. “I don’t ken where I’ll need to be.” Bethea nodded and went inside while Abigail went to the armory. She found Angus issuing orders to men as they gathered additional dirks and battleaxes. She stood out of the way until all the men were armed, and no weapons remained.
“Ma lady, Timothy told me what ye said to Norman. Ye were wise to have them clear the snow. They’ll chip the ice away once they can see it. Can ye smell the tar warming? That’ll be bubbling by the time the MacLeods arrive.”
“Can we send anyone to Ronan or Clyde?” Abigail asked softly. She’d watched the heavy cloud cover for the past two days and knew Ronan was likely up to his knees in the white powder.
“I did. Ma son Willy.” Angus smiled when he could tell Abigail was trying to remember where she knew the name from. “Ma son married Linus’s daughter. Their son is wee Willy. Ma Willy is the best rider in the clan. Ronan kept him here in case he needed someone to fetch him.”
“Angus, are we ready?”
“Aye, Lady MacKinnon. We’re ready. We have five score warriors still here, along with the men from the village.”
“Five score?” Abigail’s eyes widened as she glanced at the barracks that adjoined the armory. She hadn’t realized Ronan commanded nearly two hundred men.
“That’s why the other clans raid at our borders or chase our fishermen. They dinna dare come close to the keep.”
“But Cormag must assume Ronan rode out with a large contingent if he’s willing to sail here.”
“Aye.”
“Angus, is Norman up to the task?” Abigail whispered.
