He turned the corner and was alone, like he was the only person in the country. There was no noise from in front or behind. Either side of him the mountains rose up, keeping the pass in shadow. There were the boulders.
He walked forward, sword drawn, stopping about ten feet from the nearest boulder. “Ronald,” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Come out and fight like a man.”
A man emerged a second later, a man Eddard didn’t recognize. He was bald and wearing a monk’s cowl. “What are you doing here?” the man asked. “This does not concern you.”
“Then kill me.”
The man smiled. “Very well.” He whistled and half a dozen knights emerged. Eddard let them approach, waiting for the right moment. When they were five feet away, he turned tail and fled, sprinting back to the corner.
He could hear the steward calling behind him. “Coward. Real men dinnae run from a fight.”
He turned the corner and almost skidded into the end of an outstretched sword. Forbes took one look at him, nodded, and then urged his horse forward.
Eddard spun on his feet in time to see the half dozen knights who’d been chasing him get run down by the destriers. He made it around the corner in time to see the battle almost over.
Men were dying, swords clashing loudly, screams echoing around the pass. In the distance he could see Ronald on his horse, sprinting away from the scene. “Real men dinnae run from a fight,” he yelled after him as an unmanned horse stumbled toward him.
He grabbed it, flinging himself on top, ready to ride after the steward.
“Not without me,” a voice called out.
He looked back and there was Jessica running toward him. “Hurry,” he shouted. “He’s getting away.”
She grabbed his hand and was on a second later. Galloping past the battle, they rode hard but the steward was already far ahead.
He glanced behind him, gratified to find only the King’s men remained standing. The dying were either the steward’s men or hired fighters.
It was probably for the best that they had been slaughtered. The clan could begin anew with fresh guards who were not beholden to that villain who was trying his best to outride them.
By the time they made it to MacGregor Castle, the steward was already there, rallying what few men he could find around him. There were kitchen boys, grooms, even the gong scourer had been roped into guarding the main gate.
Eddard didn’t slow, riding straight at them. They scattered at once and then he was in the courtyard with nothing between him and the steward.
“Kill him!” Ronald screamed.
Eddard said nothing. He marched over and swung his fist, catching the steward on the jaw and sending him flying. His head bounced off the wall beside him and he slumped down to the ground, his cry of pain cut off. Eddard lifted his head as Jessica ran over.
“Dead?” she asked.
“Just knocked out,” he replied, noticing the chain around the steward’s neck. “I believe this is yours.” He yanked and the chain snapped. On the end was the key just as Jessica had described to him.
“Eddard MacGregor,” a voice boomed out.
He looked up and there were the Laird and Lady on the steps of the keep. The men around him bowed down and he did the same. “My Laird.”
The Lady was already descending, making not for him but for Jessica.
The Laird continued to shout. “Tell me why I should not have you hanged for attacking my loyal steward?”
“Your loyal steward just tried to rob the King of his taxes and he planned to blame you for the crime so he could take over the clan. How’s that for a reason?”
The Laird looked shocked. “Ronald would never do that.”
“Forbes will be here soon enough. You can ask him if I speak the truth.”
The Laird wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking at Jessica. The Lady had reached her and was examining her closely.
“You have her eyes,” Rachel said. “Tell me, may I see your arm?”
