Chapter Five
Andrew rode out at the front of his men, the wind on their backs as they headed north. He’d brought half a dozen of his best out with him, leaving the rest to guard the castle. And her.
He could not be sure the MacLeishes wouldn’t try to attack while he was on the way to their parley. If they did, he’d make sure he took MacLeish castle, truce or no truce.
Each of the warriors by his side was worth four of any other clan. That gave him good odds if they came upon anything up to two dozen on their journey. More than that? Any more than that and the heather would be nourished with MacIntyre blood and there was little he could do about it but die with honor like all MacIntyres when their time came.
From the castle they rode out through the rolling hills beyond, the road rising slowly to the first peak before he stopped. They looked back at the castle. It was covered in scaffolding. Would it ever be finished? The masons seemed to work slower and slower each day and unless he was there to watch them, little got done by the time night came.
Would the walls be done in time for winter? He hoped so. Needing to leave the mortar covered with great gaps during the long cold months was asking for trouble but what choice did he have? He needed a mason he could leave in charge while he was on the move, get them working faster. It was for their safety as well as his own. In a siege, none were safe.
He glanced up at the keep, faintly visible in the hazy distance. She was in there.
“Yon wee lassie will give you a kiss and a cuddle when we get back,” Clyde shouted from the back of the group, as if reading his mind. “Dinnae think we can’t see you staring back at her tower.”
“Aye, he’s got her locked in where she cannae escape his attempts at wooing,” Wallace added.
“Dinnae joke about such things,” Gillis spoke over their laughter. “Would any of you want to see your laird bed a MacLeish?”
“She’s not a MacLeish,” Andrew said, speaking for the first time since they left the castle.
“Och, who told you that?” Lorne asked. “Her by any chance?”
“Aye, she did.”
“And you believe her? She’s batted her eyelids at you and you go and fall for her charms without a moment’s pause. Are you that desperate for a woman? There are plenty out there easier to conquer.”
“I’d like to conquer her, I’ll tell you that,” Wallace shouted to more laughter. “Conquer her and her charms.”
“Of course she’s a MacLeish,” Lorne continued, ignoring the interruption. “And I think we have a right to know what you’re planning to do with her.”
Andrew turned and gave him a firm look. “And since when do I have to explain myself to you?”
“You’re asking us to ride out with you to meet Duff MacLeish. We might not live to ride back. Do you not think we should know what your plan is?”
A grumble of agreement.
Andrew sighed, too tired to argue. “We ride to the old hall. Duff MacLeish is meeting us there with no more than half a dozen of his men to parley. We’ll see what he has to say about all this. He tells us why he felt the need to provoke war by burning the hall and then I decide what we do next. Anyone has any issue with that, I say we step off our horses and let our swords resolve the point.”
Silence. No one mentioned Beth. Good, he didn’t want to have to think about her. He needed to focus.
He pointed forward and they began to move again. Behind him the light was beginning to fade. They would be returning in the dark. A chill wind began blowing across the hill top. It would be a cold night. Would she be all right? Rory would hopefully arrange for her fire to be lit. Stop thinking about her, he told himself. He managed it eventually though he couldn’t stop wishing he’d given her some furs to keep her warm while he was gone.
They descended slowly into the valley until the castle was out of sight behind them. Another hour or so and they would be at Ramshorn. Then a few miles after that they would reach Pluscarden, or what was left of it.
Ramshorn itself was on the edge of the wild moor. It was a single dwelling hidden from all those who passed by on the road. Only Andrew knew its exact location. He wanted it to always remain that way. He never intended to share it with anyone.
The sky had begun to turn shades of orange and red by the time they again stopped. “Hold here,” he said, climbing down from his horse. “Keep a sharp eye out for an ambush. We are too close to the MacLeish border to relax. I shall not be long.”
He left his men and headed off the road, walking at first through long grass and then into thicker undergrowth. Ahead of him was the tall slopes of a mountain, the top dusted with snow. It was a deceptive view for when he got closer, a hidden dip emerged at the base of the mountain. Trees shielded the dip from view and he had to push through the undergrowth between them in order to reach it.
There in the bottom of the valley was Ramshorn. Smoke was curling up through the thatch. That meant Fenella was home.
She was often abroad. There had been times he had gone to see her for advice only to find the house empty. When it mattered most though, she was always there as she had been since he was no more than a wee bairn. As long as he could remember he’d been brought to see her for advice.
He had no idea how old she was. For all he knew, she had been there forever, hidden from the clan feuds and boundary disputes, out of sight of the wars and battles, living out her quiet solitary life among the deer and the rabbits, advising one laird after another.
He was about to knock on her door when a voice called from inside, “Come on in, Andy.”
