“Have I ever ordered or allowed the massacre of anyone who could not defend themselves?” The young warrior’s hesitation hurt as much as if one of his brothers had accused him of being a murderous barbarian. William did not know of the brutal deaths of his mother and sister and would not discover it now. But the man’s attitude and doubts made him decide he had chosen the wrongGallóglaighas his second in command. “Answer me, Second. Have I ever ordered the murder of innocents?”
“Nay, m’lord.” William dropped his gaze. “Forgive me.” With a weak shrug, he added. “I feared that in yer rage, ye would kill everyone bearing the name of Maxwell.”
“We waste precious time discussing this. Either help me save our ladies or see to the men. I dinna give a damn which ye choose. But know this, when this chore is done, ye will no longer be my second in command. Second in command doesna meansecond-guessingmy commands.” Irritated at his own poor judge of character, Valan sheathed his sword and plowed around the man to get out the door. “Make my orders clear to the men,” he added without looking back. Elspet mattered more than anything. He would deal with William later.
Chapter Seven
From the shadowsat the base of the tower, Valan scanned the courtyard. Blazing torches beside the doorways sputtered, hissed, then finally extinguished in the torrential rain. The storm’s murkiness dimmed the last two remaining beacons, the pair marking the entrance to the main banquet hall. Those lights would soon go out as well. Loud revelry from that side of the castle marked the feasting better than any flame. The noise along with the raging storm provided ample cover for the escaped warriors.
William appeared at his side. “The old guards in the gatehouse refused to leave their post, so we bound and gagged them. They tried to resist, but none of us had the heart to end them.”
Valan remembered the two men. While William’s decision to keep them alive pleased him, his second in command’s earlier misgivings and lack of trust plagued him. In times of battle, trust made the difference between living and dying. Much needed to be cleared between them when this was over. He eased open the door to the tower stair and checked for anyone hiding within. Silence filled the dimly lit stairwell. Light from far too few torches made the winding way treacherous. He slipped inside, listened for a moment to ensure they were alone, then continued the conversation. “What of the remaining guard in the barracks?”
“Dead. Not a Maxwell guard remains in the gatehouse.”
“And the outer camp? Euban’s English forces?” With the element of surprise on their side, his well-trained men, even though wounded and outnumbered, could scrub the camp of the sixty men Euban boasted to be his followers.
“Few were there,” William said, staying close as they climbed the stone steps. “But those few are now dead.”
“I am sure the rest are in the banquet hall.” Valan charged up the last of the stairs, threw open the door, and emerged onto the rooftop. The dim light from a single brazier at its center did little to show him the way to the north tower. Driving rain and the blackness of the night fouled him even more. Arms outstretched, he squinted to find the battlement wall. Lightning flashed as if the gods decided to tease him with a fleeting glimpse of what lay ahead.
“Leave her be!” he bellowed up at the storm. He didn’t care that it made him look foolish. He would fight every god in existence if that’s what it took to save Elspet. A tug on the ropes looped over his shoulder made him turn.
“Tie off to me! More rope that way.” William pointed father along the wall. “Lower the ropes to the cage and have them knot them around the bars. The chains are sure to be oiled. Too hard to pull up in this rain.”
Valan doubted either woman possessed the strength to tie a knot strong enough to pull up the iron boxes, but William was right about one thing. Most who used such cages for torture knew to oil the chains to make an escape or rescue next to impossible. And the rain mixed with whatever grease or fat coated the metal would make the chore all the more difficult. He handed William one rope while he secured the other to the wall. A single cage might take more than one rope to lift it. No matter what it took, they would get the women to safety.
Lightning split the sky, blinding him. The cloying, metallic smell of its power tainted the rain. Thunder boomed so loud that the castle trembled. The storm was growing worse. They had to hurry. He leaned out over the battlement, wedging himself in the same crenel as the chain leading to one of the cages.
“Elspet!” he bellowed, trying to make himself heard over the storm. No answer. Fearful urgency pounded through him. A raw combination of anxiousness, rage, and dread made him lean farther out into the dark void. He barely made out a faint whiteness not too far below. It had to be one of the women. Something grabbed his belt, then thumped his back. He squinted back over his shoulder. William showed him the rope he had knotted around his own waist and waved for him to continue. Valan straightened and brought himself nose to nose with his second in command. “I have to climb down there. I canna make her hear me.”
William hesitated for the span of a heartbeat, then gave a jerking nod. “I will feed out the rope so the stones dinna cut it.” He untied it from his belt, moved it to the small of his back, and leaned back, positioning his hand on either side to keep it moving. “Wrap it round yer waist twice, then knot it.”
Valan lashed it securely, hoisted himself over the wall, then slowly began his descent, using the cage’s chain as a guide. Another flash of lightning illuminated the land, revealing poor Elspet balled up in an iron box barely big enough to hold a full-grown sheep. He ground his teeth and channeled his rage into descending faster. Euban Maxwell would pay for this. By all that was holy, he would pay.
His footing slipped. Beneath summer’s damp warmth, the sandstone blocks of the tower had sprouted patches of treacherous moss. His hands became raw from the bite of the rope. Ignoring the pain, he eased himself lower. He reached an iron bar at the end of the main chain. It was the yoke that held two chains attached to the sides of the crate.
“Elspet!” he shouted, willing her to hear him over the wind and rain.
The glimmer of white moved. She raised up and stretched her arm through the bars of the cage, reaching for him. Another flash of lightning revealed the terror in her face. “Valan!”
He drew up even with the top of her cruel prison, feeling all around the edges, searching for the latch. There was no need for a lock. The greased chains prevented any climbing out to escape. Lightning exploded too close. Deafening thunder followed.
Elspet fell back and balled up, covering her head with her hands.
“God guide me.” He bowed his head and concentrated. His fingers finally found what had to be the latch. A joyous roar escaped him as he undid the simple metal catch and opened the lid. “Elspet! Come to me, my own!”
She paused but for a second, then stood, swaying to her full height as she grappled for him.
He swung closer and clutched her to his chest. “Hold tight, m’love. Hold tight.”
She didn’t answer, just wrapped her arms and legs around him.
Little by little, drawing on every ounce of strength he possessed, they inched upward. He prayed she had the strength to hold fast, because he needed both hands to climb. He daren’t trust the treacherous slickness of the tower walls. The rope vibrated in his hold and started pulling him up, seemingly of its own accord. William. They had finally gotten close enough for William to see them making progress. He wrapped an arm around Elspet and hugged her close while holding the rope with the other hand and doing his best to walk up the wall.
When they reached the top, William took hold of her and lifted her to safety. Still hanging over the wall, Valan sagged against it, thanking the Almighty for saving Elspet’s life.
“Constable! Take my hand!”
