Jock frowned. How had he thought the skin diseased? It looked as healthy as his own. “What do you want?” he asked.
“To come inside and warm myself is all. It is a cold night.”
“None admitted until morning, Laird’s orders.
The man pulled back his hood, revealing a bald head. “Do you know who I am?” the man asked.
“A beggar who’ll get nothing from me but a boot up his arse.”
“Look again,” the man said, nodding down toward the ground. Jock looked down, seeing the beggar’s bare feet. Fear rose up in him as he slowly looked up once more, seeing the man smiling and nodding. “You do know who I am. Or should I say, you ken who I am? I am in Scotland after all.”
“Please,” Jock said. “I have a family.”
“How nice. I, unfortunately, have not been blessed in that way yet. There is still time though in the future. Now, I would love to stand here and talk with you all night but business must intrude for a spell. Are you going to unlock that door so I can walk in like a civilized person?”
“I cannae do it. The Laird would kill me.”
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t let me in. Do you see the pickle in which you find yourself?”
“You have no weapon. How will you do it?”
“I won’t do a thing. I will not harm a tiny little hair on your Scottish head.”
Jock straightened up, feeling bolder. “Then be on your way, kind sir.”
“Last chance.”
From his left there was a muffled scream. It died as soon as it emerged. It was followed by a heavy thud. “What was that?” Jock asked, panic bubbling up in him.
“That was James,” the barefooted man replied.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt us.”
“No,” the man said, his smile fading. “You misunderstood. I said I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. A knife in the guts is much more effective. Or perhaps I’ll take out your eyes.” He clicked his fingers.
At once the torch died. The entrance to the castle was plunged into darkness. Jock swung his pike and jabbed at empty air. He nearly screamed when a voice whispered in his ear. “What’s it to be. Let us in or die?”
“I can’t.”
“Oh, but you can,” the voice whispered even closer. “There is a knife in your ribs this instant. You turn and unlock the door and I will let you live. You can even join us, if you wish.”
“I can’t. I dinnae have a key. They unlock it from inside in the morning.”
“Well isn’t that a shame,” the voice whispered. “If only you had a key.” He clicked his finger again and screams began to ring out from inside the castle.
“What was that?” Jock asked. “What are you doing?”
“You said you had a family,” the man said, pushing the knife slowly forward. It moved through Jock’s armor as if it were moving through butter. “Dinnae worry, lad. They will join you soon enough.”
Jock slumped onto his back, looking up at the castle walls above him. Lights were going out up there. The screams he heard began to grow louder. When the torches were relit a few minutes later all Jock saw was darkness. He heard nothing at all.
The barefoot man flicked his hood back over his head as the portcullis was raised, the door behind sliding slowly open. His men stood behind it, awaiting his command. “Are they all dead?” he asked.
“Stacked in the pit prison to a man.”
“Was she among them?”
No one spoke.
