“A lone fool,” Callum snorted.
“Some say heroic,” she replied, “from the murmurs about the encampment.”
“Aye,” Callum retorted, “well, the murmurs about the encampment also included who held the largest belch last eve after ale before the siege you halted.”
She almost smiled. “I know what you are happening upon,” she said raising a brow, but her eyes never left Aonghus. “Tryin’ to sway my thoughts from the knight I love more than breath who is about to lead a perilous charge into the belly of the enemy.”
“Perilous?” Callum challenged. “Ack, nae, your knight will have Vengeance splitting Northmen’s skulls with morehaste than plums cut by a dagger.”He certainly saw to Lord Kollungr’s and Svørn’s.“The only fear I harbor is that if you grow more anxious, your mare will bolt; please, steady yourself, my lady.”
Easier said than done.Her fingers tightened on the reins, slippery from drizzle.
“Lady Keirah,” the Lord Constable summoned her, two steeds down the line, “are there any familiar faces present?”
She was so fearful for her knight the thought had escaped her, but at the keen looks from the chancellor, constable, chamberlain, and king, she recounted the horizon before them.
“How many upon the hillock?” she heard the king ask of the constable.
The Lord Constable straightened his spine. “I believe there to be almost two hundred Northmen,” he answered. “The leader remains an enigma.”
Her eyes narrowed at the cluster upon the knoll through the rain, the bodies weaving in and out like a dance at a festival, but this was soon to be a very different dance to escape death. Look at all those familiar faces from King Håkonsson’s court and the shores of Bjørgvin. If guilt were a string, it just wove through her heart. Did it matter, even with the times in Bjørgvin with the disgusted whispers of “Scotswoman” trailing her, or those who had spat in her face or shoved her given the tense air after King Alexander had attacked the Hebrides when demands to purchase them had failed? A wee bit, but she still had walked among them a long spell.
Releasing one of the reins, she ran her hand over her face, drenched from rain but also sweat born by anguish. Her gaze strayed toward Aonghus – huh, he seemed to sense her stare upon him. He turned; they locked eyes for only a blink beforehe faced the enemy ranks. Anything.Anything to keep him safe. After a deep breath she relayed, “The one tall as my Sir Aonghus and broad as a fjord – that is Ogmund; he would be the leader for the cluster upon the hillock.” She pointed. “Ogmund Crow-Dance, the one holding the red shield at the forefront. Ogmund held tight to King Håkonsson’s side, a fierce warrior trusted above all others.”
The Lord Constable leaned down, giving a nod toward a messenger who charged off, most likely to relay the information unto Stewart.
“Any others you see of interest, my lady?” the Lord Chamberlain pressed.
It seems the one with fingers on the royal purse thinks me worthy once more.He always favored the newly-minted traitor over her Aonghus in the discussions back at Stirling. “Other than Sir James beside King Håkonsson?” she retorted, giving what she hoped was a glaring look.
The Lord Chamberlain squirmed in his saddle.Good.She directed her attention back toward Alexander. “My lord king, I cannot speak of King Håkonsson’s fate this day, but one who will fall is there beside him – Haco of Stein.” Her voice was solemn. “King Håkonsson’s closest guardsman. My final offering, from a night-glance since past that I now understand to be this moment, is the storm to the west.” The entire delegation looked at the midnight clouds looming over the ocean versus the hilltops behind them. “Here it will come to pass, and thus King Håkonsson will be deniedanychance of summoning more footmen onto the shores for his aid; forgive the phrase but this will turn the tide to your favor.”
Her eyes snapped back toward Sir Brayden, who called off the first advance from archers gathering behind the knights: “Nock!” One breath. “Loose!”
A yell came from Ogmund to form a “Shield wall!” The Northmen’s shields rose high, becoming almost a turtle shape for the arrows plunging along with the rain, which began gaining pace.
A cumulative Gaelic battle cry shook the heavens from the knights. Where was her Scotsman? Where?!There he is.Vengeance was raised toward the gusts; his raven hair would have blown wildly if not for the iron helm upon his scalp. The defeating clanks echoed from the armor and hooves on the rocky shoreline as the knights charged the hillock and Ogmund.
At spying the knights, Ogmund stood to frantically say something at the warrior beside him, who nodded. The wail from an archer in Ogmund’s ranks bellowed their commands: “Nock!” Half breath. “Loose!”
NO!The takers of life climbed toward the clouds, headed for the Stewart forces and directly toward the knight who held her heart! Aonghus released Laoch’s reins while raising the shield above his head when the steel rained upon them.One, two, three, four arrows onto his shield! One more to land…five.A whimper, half fright and half anger, sounded when the knight next to Aonghus took the sixth arrow straight through the eye, then vanished from the saddle, landing beneath the hooves as the beasts charged.
“Nock!” Sir Brayden countered; it would be the last line toward Ogmund’s warriors as her Scottish knight was shadowing closer toward the enemy. “Loose!”
The rain stung her gaze, but her eyes still saw the lashes on Ogmund’s widen when he got a solid look at the sheernumber of knights emerging under Scotland’s banner from behind the dunes. The Northman leader motioned something and those around him began to move – backward.
Once as a wee lassie she had seen a herd of Highland cows in a storm. They had begun to paw nervously, then lightning struck, and with it came a full onslaught stampede. Lord help any who stood in their way. What began as a mere few warriors scattering for the ships soon turned into a terrified dash across the sands when panic set in. Stampede!
The Lord Constable leaned forward to say with awe, “Look uponthat.”
The Northmen cluster from the hillock raced to join the other forces, numbering four times those on the hillock, still holding the ground on the beaches.
“Shite,” Callum murmured, stunned, next to her at the mayhem unfolding before them.
Rain turned from droplets into buckets, and one of the final things seen was King Håkonsson being pulled back by Sir James toward the safety of a ship. Haco of Stein held the ground to safeguard the king’s escape until the last moment before Haco took a death blow from Stewart’s longsword across the throat.
She rubbed her eyes. Where? Aonghus? Where?! Wretched rain! She could see nothing of her Scotsman; he was lost in the waves from downpours. All she heard was the soul-twisting sounds of wails and cries and commands lost in the weight of water pouring over them. Her knees tightened onto the mare’s sides. Callum, as if guessing her thought to bolt for Aonghus, snatched one of the mare’s reins, holding steady.
“Nae, my lady,” he warned somberly. “Let my brotherfinishthis.” It was the first time the elder MacCade did not use the term ‘wee’ before ‘brother’.
