Her breath came fast and heavy. As anxious as she was, she felt an equal amount of curiosity that had welled up and taken up residence in her chest. She heard the words of the letter again and again in her mind.
Brigida stayed silent as a mouse as Isla threw on her leather saddle, buckling it around the white mare's middle. She hoisted herself up and over the beast, settling her legs into the stirrups and swinging her gown around until she was comfortable.
"Alright now, lovie," she whispered in the horse's ear, stroking its wiry mane. With one nudge of her boots, Brigida began to plod away from the castle. Isla kept her pace slow and careful, her head turning in every direction to keep certain that she had not been seen.
Isla whispered a little prayer, hoping that no one had already noticed her absence. She was well acquainted with the forest and moors surrounding the castle and knew of a section of the rolling hills that the guards barely passed. She directed Brigida south, leaning forward into the night air, and took a deep breath in.
Every second, she was straying farther and farther from the only home she'd ever known.
But could it really be home if there were such secrets being kept?
Isla had never been out at night, especially this far from home. She passed her favorite loch nearly an hour ago; that had been the farthest she'd ever dared to venture. She now found herself in unknown territory; the hills of the moors hugged her left side while a vast forest opened up on her left.
If I want tae reach the village, I'll have tae pass by the MacThomas Castle. I must be careful if I dinnae want tae be caught!
The dangers of being caught by her own clan's guards would look like a child's game were she to be caught by the neighboring clan. The MacThomas clan had no love of the Robertson's; in fact, they were mortal enemies. Her father had swiftly ensured that the two clans could never be friends, that she knew well enough. She exhaled shakily, feeling suddenly uneasy atop her mare.
She would be approaching the castle's borders in moments, she knew. Isla considered dipping into the forest until the castle was out of sight, but suppose something or someone chased her deeper therein? She couldn't risk losing her way, especially not in such unknown territory. She weighed her options, choosing to ride along the forest, keeping it to her left side as the letter instructed. Onward she rode, making sure to keep Brigida's pace quiet and careful.
Rain began to patter down around her and only picked up in volume. Before long, droplets were coming down in sheets, and Isla hunched her back against the torrent. She was suddenly thankful for the change of gown inside her leather rucksack. Shivering against the chilling rain, she pressed on. There could be no turning back now.
The castle's borders came into view, and Isla squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She got ahold of her emotions quickly and plowed ever on, her eyes darting around every few seconds.
The MacThomas Castle was impressive in its stonework and in its size. She marveled at it for only a moment before remembering her mission; this time, she kept her eyes straight and tightened her grip on the leather reins. The rain was pouring over in bucketloads, but she did not stop, did not look back; she prayed to the heavens in a whisper that she would be able to pass right by the castle without causing a stir.
There was no movement from the castle at all; no cries sounded as she passed by, no torches were lit. She felt the tension escape her only a little, but enough to give her confidence.
She was going to make it!
Isla kept going, her head straight and shoulders squared. She breathed out a sigh, relaxing her tightened muscles. In a few more moments, she would be out completely past the castle; once she was out of the stone monster's line of sight, she could truly breathe easily again.
Isla straightened and raised her heels to nudge Brigida, urging her to pick up her pace when she a cry rose into the night.
"Stop!" a man's voice shouted. "You, there! Pull down yer cloak, and lemme see yer face!"
She slowed Brigida to a halt, her blood ice in her veins. This could not be happening, but it was. She had been so focused on keeping the castle in her peripheral vision that she hadn't even bothered to peer into the forest. There, on her left-hand side, was a group of soldiers on horseback. Their faces scowled at her from beneath the shadowy wood.
"Not another step," the man said. "Who are ye? A spy from the Robertson clan, eh?"
"No!" she cried. Her mind was in a blur; trying to think of something to say was like trying to grab mist upon the moors. "No, I—"
"Humph," another guard said. "I would nae trust this 'n as far as she c'n spit. Likely she's from the Robertson clan; come to spy upon us! I say we run the lass through now and be done with it!"
She felt her entire body turn rigid, as though she were completely made of wood and stone. Her mouth worked, but she had no voice to protest, to plead with. This could not be happening, and yet it was. Isla's mind tried desperately to think of something, anything to say, but her lips were clamped shut from shock. She felt hot tears well up in her eyes and thought miserably of the irony of dying on her birthday when the first man spoke up.
"Imbecile!" he exclaimed. "The Laird will have all our heads if we tell him we found a spy 'n did nae bring her tae him! Do ye want to be the fool taw tell him that ye slain a lass who could 'ave been questioned, then?"
The second man piped down, looking mollified. Isla felt a rush of gratification hit her, but it dissipated when the man slid down from his horse and pulled her from Brigida.
"You, there!" he said, pointing to the guards. "Tie this mare tae the back of a horse and take 'er to the stables. The lass'll be comin' with me tae the dungeons until Laird Iain decides what he wants done!"
Dungeons?
The man's lips jerked up in a sneer. "I wouldnae think spies would wear such bright, pretty clothes," he said. "But that must be what ye are, all the same. If the Robertson clan thinks that sending a woman to do their dirty work will fool us, then the bastards have another thing comin'."
Isla's head dropped in despair as the man tightened his grip on her upper arm and hauled her up on his horse. He sat behind her, his breath on her neck as she shivered in fear. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, to flee, but there would be nowhere to go. The archers in the guardsmen's group would pick her off immediately were she to try if the man behind her didn't trample her with his horse.
And so Isla rode off with him without protest. Even if she had the will to do so, she knew that it was in her best interest to go wherever this man was taking her as quietly and meekly as she could.
