Then Alana leaped up, pouring a mug of wine, which she handed to the boy. He smiled gratefully at her.
“When did Bruce attack?” Godfrey demanded, his expression twisted with dismay.
“Yesterday at dawn, my lord,” the boy said.
“How was it when you left?”
The boy shook his head. “Bruce had seven hundred men combined, far more than the earl and yer father. But only a small army attacked—the rest of his men were waiting in the woods.” He finally sipped the wine.
Alana’s heart lurched with dread. She knew who was leading that small army. But Elgin could not fall. It could not suffer the same fates as Inverness, Inverlochy, Urquhart and Nairn. For if it did, Brodie could be next.
She closed her eyes to ward off a recollection of her last terrible vision, to no avail. All she could see was Scotland, blackened and burned, with Bruce’s flag waving above the ashes and rubble.
She shook herself free of the recollection. “Is Sir Alexander Comyn with the Earl of Buchan still?” she asked.
“Aye, mistress. Sir Alexander defends Elgin with Duncan and the earl.”
Her father was with Buchan and Duncan, defending Elgin from Robert Bruce—battling Iain once again. Alana fought for air. She felt dizzy.
She wondered if her father would ever receive the letter she had sent to him that morning. It had been so awkward to write, but in the end, she had expressed her concern for his welfare and told him she prayed for him. She had also mentioned that they feared for their own safety at Brodie, where they had no actual defenses.
“And how did the first attack go?” Godfrey asked.
“When I left, there was no sign that Iain of Islay would succeed. His men were being turned back from the walls.”
Alana was relieved. She wished to ask about Iain, but was afraid to, and besides, thus far, he was in command. She looked at Godfrey. “Perhaps my grandmother is right, and we share a common cause.”
He gave her a disdainful glance. “Maybe you should take up a bowl of water, Alana. Maybe you can tell us Elgin’s fate before the next messenger arrives!”
Alana started. So he knew what Buchan had done to her. “If I have a vision, you will be the first to know. And I will tell you the truth.” She meant it. “We cannot afford to be enemies.”
“No, we cannot,” Godfrey replied, but reluctantly.
* * *
APALLSETTLEDover the castle as they awaited news of Elgin’s fate. The days passed with agonizing slowness. Alana avoided Godfrey, amazed that she now intended to forge a truce between them, as fragile as it was. Because they so disliked one another, it was better to keep her distance—for Brodie’s sake. At times she slipped outside for a lonely walk along the castle walls, her only company a gray wolf watching her from the forest, but mostly she kept to the small chamber she shared with Eleanor. There, her gaze was continually drawn to a pitcher of water left for drinking, as if it dared her to look within.
She did not. She was too afraid she might see Elgin in rubble and ashes.
And she wondered about her father. Had Sir Alexander received her letter? What had his reaction been to such a missive, sent from the illegitimate daughter he had abandoned and forgotten? Would he even bother to reply? And she also wondered, against her will, how Iain fared in the battle for Elgin Castle.
There was no word for four days, but then another messenger arrived, shaking the snow from his fur, as they assembled in the hall to greet him. “My lord! Bruce and his army have been turned back! They have fled Elgin,” he cried, beaming.
Godfrey was so exultant he danced a Highland jig. “Finally, the tides of war favor us!”
Alana stared in shock at the messenger as Godfrey skipped about the hearth in the hall, gloating. Bruce had retreated. He had been defeated.
Stunned, she took a seat at the table as the messenger shed his cloak. Relief finally began. Elgin remained intact!
“How is my father?” Godfrey demanded. He handed the young soldier wine. “How is the Earl of Buchan?” He glanced at Alana. “And his brother, Sir Alexander?”
“They are all well, my lord,” the boy said, smiling.
Her father was well. “Please, come sit and eat,” Alana said, her heart leaping. As he slid onto the bench, not far from her, she stood and indicated that a maid should bring him refreshments. “Do you have a message for me, by any chance? From Sir Alexander?” she asked.
He started. “No, my lady, I have no messages for anyone.”
Her heart sank. She reminded herself that she did not even know if Sir Alexander had received her letter in the midst of such a furious battle.
