“What about the old crone?” John asked. “I hear she cannot be killed by any mortal blade.”
“We will find out the truth of that soon enough,” Gavin replied. “Now out to the battlements for a recce. We have talked long enough.”
The men left, talking as they went. Bruce remained with Gavin, the two of them walking more slowly out of the great hall. “There is something wrong about this,” Bruce said. “Mungo Frazer is mad to think about risking a frontal assault on a castle as well defended as ours. His army will be wiped out.”
“Perhaps he wants the outlaws to soften us up first, come later when we are exhausted fending them off.”
“Or perhaps he hopes to sneak someone inside to open up the gates for him and let him walk right on in. Someone you would not suspect. A woman perhaps.”
Gavin thought of Heather. Was it possible he had been distracted by her beauty? Could she be working for Mungo Frazer? Standing by her side, the idea seemed impossible but away from her with the knowledge that the Frazers were on their way, he was no longer so certain.
He paused as they reached the courtyard, feeling the huge burden of responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. The decisions he made in the coming hours and days would make the difference between his clan’s survival and their annihilation. One mistake would be enough to doom them all.
Bruce had said something he’d missed.
“Hmm?”
“I said, perhaps we should send a messenger to Mungo. Seek a negotiation.”
Gavin shook his head. “You were set against that. What changed?”
“This time we would not trust to good faith. We would be prepared. Take a knife to the talks and kill him before he opens his mouth. With Mungo gone, the clan would crumble and his castle would be ours. In one swoop you could double the size of your lands.”
“You are saying I should murder a man at a peace negotiation?”
“He kidnapped a man. Would this be much different?”
“I would go to hell for the crime.”
“Or perhaps God would reward you for preventing future bloodshed. Can you picture it, my laird. The highlands in our grasp, the Frazers gone for good.”
Gavin shook his head but in the back of his mind a spark remained. Perhaps what Bruce had said wasn’t so foolish after all. He could not rely on outside help. He needed to resolve this matter himself.
There were also rumors the English king was planning another foray into Scotland. What if he were to come while the MacGregors were besieged?
He had told the men they could hold out against a king’s army but privately he was not so sure.
They would have plenty of time to construct mangonels or trebuchets, all from MacGregor wood. In fact, for all he knew that was what the outlaws were building out there while he pondered his next move.
“Are you well, my laird?” Bruce asked. “You look confused.”
“Thinking,” he replied, shaking his doubts away. For now he just needed to focus on one thing at a time. “We will send a messenger to Mungo tomorrow. See if we can’t persuade him that siding with outlaws is a foolish move. I find it hard to believe that he trusts them to remain loyal to him no matter what happens here. I suspect the old crone is pulling his strings as well as the outlaws.”
He walked up the steps onto the battlements. The view from the parapet chilled his blood. Fires had been lit. The outlaws were laughing, drinking, talking. The sound of sawing and hammering continued in the distance despite the darkness.
Indeed, when he looked, there was a glow somewhere down in the valley. “Quite the workshop they have going on,” Bruce said. “What are you thinking? Smithy?”
Before Gavin could answer a scream rang out from the keep. “That was Heather’s voice,” he said, already sprinting down the stairs. “Man the gates, send two to the sallyport. Another six on me.”
He was already at the foot of the stairs, racing across the courtyard and into the keep. He grabbed a torch from the wall to light his way, heading to the second floor. Something had happened to Heather. He prayed he was not too late.
He burst into the corridor that led to her room, skidding to a halt when he saw her standing there looking down at the floor. He sighed with relief. “You’re all right,” he said, relief washing over him as he walked toward her. “Why did you scream like that?”
He noticed what she was looking at a moment later. At her feet was a body lying in a pool of blood. Slowly, Heather turned around, her eyes filled with tears. In her hand she held a dagger, blood dripping from the end of it.
Gavin looked down at the body again as six of his men ran up the stairs behind him. “Wait,” he shouted to them as they began to run toward Heather with swords drawn. “Hold.” They came to a halt, staring at the body on the floor and then at Heather.
“Give me the knife, Heather,” Gavin said, holding his hand out toward her.
