Chapter 1
From the land of mists and waters she came….
Berwick Castle
Northumbria, England
Medieval England & Scotland
They were going to hang her.
And the strange part . . . she really didn’t care.
Fidach, had beaten her for the last time.
Lady Siena Bertram had had all she was going to take from her brother. When he’d lunged at her she’d had no choice but to stab him through his black heart. Aye, she regretted taking a life, but when the life was that of a snake, Siena hoped God would forgive her.
Evidently, Fidach’s men didn’t agree . . . since they were the ones who intended to hang her.
Siena’s body ached all over from the beating her brother had inflicted upon her, and now the rough handling by his men, who were treating her like a criminal instead of a lady, wasn’t helping. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth.
There was a gash on her arm that needed tending, and she could feel her face swelling. Since a noose dangled in front of her, she supposed a cut wasn’t the worst of her problems, and that simple thought made her smile. Now she wondered if she were truly daft. Who would smile when they were getting ready to hang?
Glancing around at the gathered crowd in the bailey, Siena thought she would have had some support from her own people. A few did look uncomfortable, especially the ones she’d healed in the past, but what could they do? Mostly they stood helplessly watching and doing nothing to stop the hanging. Did they, too, think she was a witch?
Twisting her wrists, she tried to alleviate the pressure of the rough ropes that bound her, realizing she’d been cursed from the day she was born. She had heard the gossip. They said she’d sucked the breath from her twin brother, so she might live. Of course, that was utterly absurd. However, the strange birthmark on her wrist, which resembled a pitchfork, only added fuel to the gossipmongers.
The only blessing that Siena possessed was the vision of sight. However, it didn’t always work, or she would surely have seen this noose being slipped over her head. The guard tightened the noose, placing the knot behind her left ear. She flinched at the pressure on her throat.
She grew tired of not belonging.
Perhaps, death would be better.
And then she sawhim…the devil, face painted blue, charging toward her on a huge black beast.
She was going to hell for sure.
* * *
They saidhe made a deal with the Devil….
On the hilltopoverlooking Berwick Castle, Laird Roderick Scott threw up his right hand and pulled Hercules, his black destrier, to a halt. His face was painted blue and he was breathing hard. How long had he waited for this day?
A day to right a wrong … a day to avenge his family’s death.
The rest of his men halted behind him except, Duncan, Roderick’s first in command, who rode up beside him and asked, “What do ye make of it?”
Roderick leaned forward on his pommel. “Does it not strike ye as odd that no one seems to be guardin’ the castle and the drawbridge is down?”
Duncan nodded. “Aye. The battlements look bare. Almost as if no one is home.” He watched Roderick and noted the scowl on his laird’s face.The mon was no’ happy, Duncan thought, and he pitied any man who got in his way today.
“Could be a trap,” Roderick said, shifting in his saddle. “I canna imagine Fidach has been tipped off we were comin’.”
“I can see smoke coming from the chimneys, so the bastards are there.” When Roderick remained quiet, Duncan asked, “What say ye? We dinna put on war paint for nothin’.”
“Take all the men but three around the back of the castle, and I’ll take the others with me through the main gate. I want Fidach to ken I’m coming for him. Remember, Fidach is to be caught alive. He dies by my hand.”
“As he should,” Duncan said, and motioned the men forward. Roderick waited until the group had made their way to the back of the castle, then he and the rest of his men started down the hill.
