“What’re yer names? Ye ken mine. To whom do I speak?” Saoirse planned to keep them talking. The longer they did that, the more time it bought Ric and the others to find a way out.
“I’m Stewart,” the second man answered. “He’s Harold.”
“Stewart, yer brother came to Dunbeath to poison ma husband. He didna succeed. At least, nae at that. He succeeded in getting captured by ma da.”
“But he—”
“We ken. Supposedly died and left blood on his horse, which returned to Crannog. Nay. He didna do that. He convinced a woman to do his dirty business for him.”
“I dinna believe ye.” Stewart spoke without conviction.
Harold grew tired listening, and he understood Saoirse’s attempt at distraction. “Bind and gag them.”
“Dinna fight,” Ric whispered. “If they kill us, we canna protect our lady.”
The Mathesons took Wiley’s, Kirk’s, and Ric’s swords along with the dirks in their boots. They pulled knives from the men’s belts, but none looked up their plaids. Everyone knew there would be knives strapped to the men’s thighs, but none would be the one to search. They bound Saoirse’s and the men’s hands to their horses’ reins. They looped rope through the bridles, making it impossible for any of them to break free. But they had nothing with which to gag them.
“We’re going for a little jaunt,” Harold taunted.
CHAPTER22
Magnus swung his sword with a roar. He’d maneuvered himself to fight at his brother’s back after sending Saoirse away. He forced his mind to focus on the enemies that swarmed toward him instead of worrying about his wife, but he nearly lost his head several times because his fear threatened to consume him. As much as the Sinclairs, Sutherlands, Mackays, Rosses, and Mackenzies tried to stay together to control the fight, their opponents forced them apart.
“Liam—to yer left, Seamus.” Magnus noticed Liam fighting alone. Two men who tried to circle him had separated him from his sons. He’d felled both, but he couldn’t make his way to his sons. Seamus and Magnus inched toward him until they could fight as a trio. Magnus had faith Callum and Alex partnered while Mòr and Tavish were a duo. He’d seen Thor and Tor fighting alongside Blake and Tate. But he didn’t know where Hamish, Lachlan, or Callen were. He prayed the lad was with his father and grandfather.
When the battle began, he watched Tristan point toward a group of men. He, Wee Liam—who was as large as his grandfather and namesake—Alec, and Hamish Óg charged forth. Tristan and Wee Liam partnered while Alec and Hamish Óg fought back-to-back. The four heads of black hair with gleaming emerald eyes were enough to make their opponents fear demons stalking them.
“How the hell did they ken we were coming?” Seamus bellowed over the fracas.
“Ma guess is we shouldnae have left that merchant alive. He hied it here to tittle-tattle,” Monty yelled. His second-in-command and lifelong partner, Donan, fought at his back. They were a couple feet from Magnus, Liam, and Seamus. Magnus hadn’t realized until that morning that Donan was with the Ross men, but it didn’t surprise him. As far as he knew, they were as close as brothers, since neither had their own by birth. Hamish and Lachlan were the only ones who knew for certain the relationship that existed between the men, and that was only because they were family who’d figured it out. The older Sinclairs and Liam all had their suspicions, but none cared. It was theirs not to reason why. During this battle, it was theirs but to do or die.
I need to get to Saoirse. If they saw her, then someone will have gone after her. What if they guessed where she was going? I bet Ric took her to the trees we passed. I canna stay here. Where’s ma wife?
Magnus redoubled his efforts as he slayed one attacker after another. There were bodies strewn across the hilltop to the southeast of the Field of Two Descents, and the larger army—though not by much—forced the Mathesons and their allies into the lower position. The Mathesons and their comrades either ran from their pursuers or fought backwards as the Sinclairs and their allies pressed forward. By the time the fight reached the field, the numbers had thinned on the Mathesons’ side.
“Teàrnadh! Teàrnadh!” Retreat! Retreat!
Magnus didn’t know which enemy bellowed the command, but the Mathesons, Macraes, Mackintoshes, and Donalds attempted to fall back. It was useless. The Sinclairs and their partners continued to widen their net until they surrounded their adversaries and trapped them on the field. The battle began with four-hundred-fifty men belonging to the Sinclairs, Sutherlands, Mackays, Mackenzies, and Rosses versus two hundred men from the Mathesons, Macraes, Mackintoshes, and Donalds. Inevitably, the Sinclairs’ alliance would prevail.
“Sguir!” Cease! Seamus bellowed until his command drifted through the chaos. “Ye have lost! Lay down yer swords!”
No one hurried to obey, but they did when Seamus pushed Laird Donald forward with his sword tip pressing the back of the man’s neck. Those who attacked capitulated when they watched Laird Macrae and Laird Mackintosh walk with Alex behind the former and Lachlan behind the latter. Laird Matheson laid dead where Magnus left him.
“Ye’re too late.” A man near Callum’s age stepped forward. Two other men walked with him. “Ye killed our father and made me laird. But that doesnae bring yer wife back, Mackenzie.”
Magnus stayed himself as he looked at one of the four Matheson sons. He’d gotten along with all of them until the incident with Louisa and the end of his betrothal to their cousin. Now his patience was frayed, and his fear for Saoirse soared.
“What did ye do to ma wife?”
“We didna do aught. But ye shouldnae have brought a woman to a battle. Who kens who might have gotten a hold of her?”
Alex spun Laird Macrae around. “Who has ma daughter?”
The man shrugged dismissively. Lachlan grabbed a handful of Laird Mackintosh’s hair and yanked so hard the man nearly toppled backwards. “Who has ma cousin’s daughter?”
“Dinna ken,” the man hissed.
“Dinna believe ye,” Lachlan responded, as he brought his sword to the man’s throat.
