“But the old passage caved in,” Catriona argued with a perplexed look at both the boys.
Alexander really didna care for the sound of that and from the looks on their faces, neither did his brothers.
“Who’s side are ye on, boy?” Magnus asked Sawny.
Sawny gave Magnus a perturbed look then turned back to Catriona. “No’ the old passage, m’lady. There’s another. ’Tis a much older tunnel. Murtagh said the goblins of the mountains used it to bring their gold to the surface.”
“Goblins of the mountains?” Sawny was talking about the legend of fairy goblins that were purported to have lived within the mountains of Scotland because they deemed themselves too good to behave like brownies and dwell in crofts or castles with humans. Alexander wished the lads would get to the point. “Spit it out, boy. We’ve no’ time for stories that are better told at a hearthside gathering.”
Sawny’s freckled cheeks reddened and his mouth flattened into an embarrassed line. “The caves where we hid m’lady have passages that open into the back of the stable cave. From there ’tis but a few paces to the root cellar that lies between the stables and the kitchens.” His face shifted to a darker red but his demeanor was no longer embarrassed. The young boy was enraged. “The root cellar ’tis where the bastards hid afore they killed Murtagh.” His dirt-smudged jaw tightened. “But Hew and Duff dinna ken about the old passages at the back of the root cellar leading up into the keep. I can lead ye through them and find ye haven within the tunnels whilst Tom spreads the word through the village and amongst the Neal crofts scattered in our glen. We have allies there that couldna come to Mistress Catriona’s aid because they didna ken of her imprisonment.”
“Sound plan,” Alexander agreed, saying it more than he felt it. The boy seemed determined to make them all believe Clan Neal would rally around Catriona if given the chance. Since they’d ridden north, up the mountain, to make their escape, he had no idea how many could be in the village or the surrounding crofts that Sawny spoke of. During his stay atTor Ruadh,he’d not ventured outside the skirting walls due to his lameness and the weather.
He had another niggling concern. Who led King William’s regiment? Who could strike such fear among the people that they wouldna even speak the man’s name? This information could be vital. He looked to his brothers then to his cousins. “What say ye?”
Father William spoke up before any of the others could answer. “What will ye do once inside the keep?” The sprite of a man rose from his place beside the fire, rubbing the top of his balding head as though it were a wishing stone. “How will ye reclaim this lady’s home?”
Sensing a spiritual lecture on the rise, Alexander lifted his hand to stave it off. “'Tis best ye dinna ken, Father. Dinna fash yourself. We’ll be sending ye on your way. Your wee mare should have no trouble getting ye to Fort William.”
The priest fixed him with an insulted scowl. “Ye’ll do no such thing.” He stood taller and squared his narrow shoulders. “I may be a man of God but that doesna mean I dinna ken how to fight.” He paused and gave the entire group a cold, narrow-eyed look. “Ye seem to be an honorable group of men. I’ll be fighting alongside ye and praying for your souls as we go, ye ken?” He turned to Catriona and pointed at Alexander. “Ye married a good man. Honorable. God-fearin’. Jameson Campbell is a heartless bastard that no priest alive could save from eternal damnation. I’m glad that I didna have to condemn ye to a life with that cur.”
“My brother is the same as Campbell,” Catriona said with a tight-lipped look. “The two of them can burn in Hell with my father and I’ll thank ye to pray that we’re successful in hurrying them both along their way.”
“Aye,” the priest agreed with a curt bob of his head.
Feeling none the better for the priest’s mixed blessing, Alexander turned back to his men. “At nightfall, we move, aye?”
Graham studied the sky and checked the direction of the wind. “Aye. For now, the weather looks to be with us and with the dim light of the new moon, we’ll be shielded and should be able to make it back to the caves without being detected.”
“I’d feel a mite better if we knew who led the king’s men,” Magnus said, voicing Alexander’s fears aloud.
“All we could discover was that he’s no’ the usual Sassenach,” Alasdair said as he opened his flask and made his way around the group pouring a bit of the precious golden liquid into each man’s cup. He paused when he reached Alexander and looked him in the eye. “’Tis said he kens our ways because he was fostered as one of our own before returning to his life in England.”
Fostered as one of our own.Alexander frowned. That did not bode well. The man would know the ways they fought, stalking their enemies like they stalked their deer rather than lining up like a bunch of fools and walking toward one another to see who could shoot off their bloody heads first. He gave Alasdair a nod and lifted his cup to the group.
“To nightfall and the setting right of many wrongs.”
“To nightfall,” the group echoed.
“Amen,” declared the priest, then downed his whisky and held out his cup for a refill.
