Brodie was such a tiny stronghold! Why would Bruce bother?
What about the odd vision she had just had? Had she seen a battle in the war for Scotland’s throne?
She hurried after Godfrey.
“Alana!” her grandmother called.
Alana ignored her, racing after Godfrey and catching up to him in the hall. “Where does Bruce go now?” she asked.
He glared at her. “He continues to march north, and he will surely descend upon Nairn or Elgin,” Godfrey said furiously, referring to two of the greatest Comyn strongholds. “And Brodie lies betwixt them!”
Alana trembled. “Will he attack us?”
“I hope not! We are not fully provisioned,” Godfrey said. “I have sent a messenger to my father, asking him for more men. Surely Duncan will send us soldiers. And I am hoping Buchan will send us men, as well. Meanwhile, I am rousing up every tenant and villager that I can, to bear arms in defense here if we must indeed defend the keep.”
Alana stared. It was one thing to know that a terrible war raged throughout the land for Scotland’s crown, it was another to be so close to the battlefront—to the path of destruction waged by the ruthless Robert Bruce.
Godfrey suddenly leaned over her, far too closely for comfort. He spoke and his breath feathered her face. “You should have a vision, Alana, a vision about Brodie and its future!”
She flushed. “You know as well as I do that I cannot see upon command.”
“Truly? Or is it that you simply have no care for us here at Brodie?” He snorted in disbelief and strode to the table, where his men remained. “Bring more wine, Alana,” he ordered, not looking back at her.
She watched him for another moment. No matter how she tried, she could not control how much she disliked him. And he was right—partly. She had no care for his welfare, none.
When she returned to the kitchens, where the lamb was now on a platter and about to be served, Eleanor took her hand. “What is it, Alana?”
“Bruce might attack, Gran.”
For a moment, Eleanor was silent. Then, “At least you did not see Brodie Castle burning,” she said.
There was finally some small relief in that truth. She had not seen Brodie aflame.
* * *
ALANASTRAIGHTENED,wiping perspiration out of her eyes in spite of the cold. She held a shovel, as did a dozen others, mostly young boys, old men and women her own age. They were helping to enlarge the ditch that surrounded the castle, in case they were attacked.
Her hands were frozen in spite of the mittens she wore. The sun was finally in descent and clouds were rushing in, indicating a coming snowfall. It had taken several hours to remove the frozen and crusted snow from the moat, and now, they were digging out frozen dirt. It was a task best suited to strong and grown men, but most of the adult men from the area had gone to war years ago; a handful remained to defend Brodie, should the need ever arise.
One of Godfrey’s sergeants signaled them that they could go inside for the evening; they would finish on the morrow. Alana leaned on her shovel, exhausted.
Even as she did, images danced about in her mind’s eye. She continued to recall the dark, powerful Highland warrior who had been commanding his small army as they battled English knights not far from the burning manor. How she wished he did not haunt her thoughts.
She did not even recognize the manor they fought for. She kept trying to remember if she had seen a banner, or the colors of a plaid. But nothing came to her. And she had not recognized the land, what little she had glimpsed of it. There was only one new detail—she had seen patches of snow about the ground.
So the battle had been in winter.
But what she truly wished to know was the identity of the Highland warrior—and the reason for her vision about him.
Alana followed the others inside. Although Godfrey was pacing in the hall, she went to one of the hearths there to warm her frozen hands. He whirled and stalked to her.
His expression was dark and so ugly. Then she saw the unrolled parchment in his hand. He waved it at her.
“You will be pleased to know that my father cannot spare a single man, and Brodie’s defense falls to me.” He threw the vellum at her.
Her heart thundered. “That hardly pleases me.”
“Oh, come! We both know you covet Brodie Castle, that you think you have a claim to it, that you hate me because I will be lord and master here—over you!” He wasn’t gloating. He was angry.
