A red faced woman in her forties appeared in the doorway of the cooper’s workshop. “I’m getting a barrel fixed,” she shouted over to him.
“That can wait. We have a guest. Take care of her for me.”
She came out of the doorway and marched over. “My laird,” she said. “This way, my lady.”
Gavin nodded a farewell before dashing up the wooden steps to the battlements. He was glad to see her go. It was impossible to focus on the outlaws while she stood before him. All he could think about was the firmness of her stomach when he’d held her tight to him on the horse.
What was wrong with him? He had never felt like this about any woman before and he had had his fair share of potential suitors. But her? She was something else.
“Here they come,” Bruce shouted from the east corner. “See them?”
Gavin took the last few steps two at a time, emerging on the battlements in time to see the army approaching. They had slowed to a march. That was something else new. An outlaw army that marched in step?
“Ready,” he called out, taking one of the spare bows and moving to join the archers, glancing briefly behind him to make sure the woman was safely out of sight.
Down in the courtyard all signs of life had vanished. They would not emerge from the keep until he gave the all clear.
“Not yet,” Gavin said, waiting as the army grew nearer. “When they reach the stunted ash.”
“Why not now?” a young lad asked the man next to him. “Before they get too close.”
Gavin answered. “They only reach the range of our arrows when they get past the stunted ash. Did your fletcher not teach you that?”
“I’m normally in the kitchens, my laird,” the lad replied.
“Then you should go back there.”
“Bruce called for all male hands to take a bow.”
“What’s your name?”
“Keith, my laird.”
“Can you shoot, Keith?”
“Only targets.”
“Manage to hit any of them?”
The lad shook his head.
“Never mind. Just listen to me. Draw the arrow now. That’s it. Pull your hand right back to the corner of your mouth.” He glanced out. The outlaws had almost reached the stunted ash. “Look down the length of it. Elbow higher. That’s it. Hold for a second. Hold. Now.”
The lad let fly. The arrow whipped through the air, landing ten feet short of the ash. “Never mind,” Gavin said. “You’ll do better next time.” He raised his voice. “Ready all.”
He let the outlaws get another few yards before yelling, “Fire.”
The sight of so many men firing their bows at once filled his heart with pride. Arrows flew through the air. The first row of outlaws fell at once.
The others became nervous, their line breaking. They shuffled in place, the unity he’d seen in their marching gone. They were talking among themselves, pointing at the stricken figures on the ground before them.
Jimmy the Snout was at the back, trying to urge them forward. They shuffled closer to the castle but a second volley of arrows was enough to break them.
They turned tail and ran, the MacGregors letting out a cheer. Gavin slapped the lad next to him on the back. “You did well. If you ever want out of the kitchens come see me. We can always use another archer.”
“Thank you, my laird,” the lad said with a grin.
Gavin waited until he was certain the outlaws were gone before giving the signal for his men to withdraw. Leaving a dozen remaining on guard, he descended the steps to the courtyard, grabbing the rope that ran up the side of the chapel to the bell. With a strong tug the bell rang out.
