Chapter Twenty-Six
Jacob and Matthew rode on alone through the countryside; Jacob in his light mail, and Matthew in his heavy plate. While Kyle drew out the soldiers, they would infiltrate the inn and rescue Laila. It was a good a plan as any, but still, they could not help but worry for Kyle and his men. The soldiers under Sir Simon’s command were fierce, and the brothers worried that the men from the McGowan clan were not equipped to deal with such a threat. At any rate, there was nothing they could do about it then. The die had been cast, so to speak, and they were embarking on their share of the mission.
The clouds above them were dark and swirling, and Jacob looked up with displeasure at the coming storm. The wind was cold and biting on his cheeks and his nose, and he felt his face going red in the bluster and his eyes watered. As he glanced back down to the grasses ahead of them, he felt the first rain drops falling down onto the top of his head, and he frowned.
“This rain will slow them down,” Matthew said, his armor clanking together as they rode.
“It will slow us down,” Jacob added as the rain kept increasing in intensity and their horses plodded on.
“We must press on,” Matthew said, spurring his mount ahead a bit further. “Before it worsens.”
“Too late for that,” Jacob replied as thunder clapped above them, and the rain became heavier.
They rode on through the rain, feeling the brutal weather nipping at their bones and looking ahead for the inn, feeling both the excitement and anxiety of their mission. It would be delicate, and it would be dangerous, but they were ready.
After some time, the blip of the inn came into sight, and they both felt intensity rising up within them. This was the moment.
“Can you see anybody?” Matthew asked, trying to strain his eyes against the shifting sheets of rain and the gray horizon.
“No,” Jacob answered, trying just as hard to see what was ahead. “But take care.”
“Indeed,” Matthew muttered, his hands flexing on the leather reins. The rain pattered down on his metal helmet, ringing about with a shrill patter, and it droned on in a terribly irritating way.
They came closer, and closer, and with it, their hearts beat faster and faster, until at last, they came to the yard of the inn. The scattered tents that were pitched outside were fastened shut tightly and sent flowing drapes of rain down into quickly widening puddles.
“They will be inside,” Jacob said, bringing them to a halt before the yard’s picket entrance.
“Around the back then,” Matthew said. “There will be a door by one of the chimneys.”
“How do you know that?” Jacob asked, turning in curiosity.
“To empty the ashes,” Matthew said, turning his horse around the side of the fence.
“Is that so?” Jacob said in a low breath, turning to follow his brother. They rode around the fence until they were close to one of the tall chimneys, and sure enough, they spied a small door, swollen in the downpour, hiding among the stonework. They dismounted, their feet landing heavily in the mud and sending splashes up their legs, and they tied their horses' bridles around the fence post, praying the thunder did not return.
Then they removed one post together and laid a section open that led from their horses to the back entrance of the inn, making the way ready for their potentially rapid escape, and then they advanced cautiously toward the wall of the inn. They were grateful when they passed beneath the overhang of the straw, finally out of the reach of the rain, and leaned up against the stonework at the base of the building.
They drew their swords as quietly as they could, and against the sound of the rain, it went unnoticed. Then they approached the door and looked at each other briefly. Jacob nodded, and Matthew put this metal-clad hand on the sogging oak planks. There was a moment of stillness as they sucked in their breath, and then Matthew pushed open the door ever so softly. It was heavy and took a grunt of effort at first, but it swung easily once it was past the threshold.
The room was dimly lit and smelled of musty straw. They peered over the long tables that stretched out through the space, trying to discover Laila’s location. The far end of the inn was largely still obscured from darkness, and Jacob pointed up at the balcony that formed the incomplete second floor.
“Up there maybe,” he whispered, and Matthew nodded. They began edging around the wall in the shadows, trying to stay hidden as they headed for the stairs. There was a bit of movement at the other end of the inn, and the both of them froze, trying to stay concealed while they studied the shapes moving about.
A hulking man was standing near the far corner, shuffling as if he were turning around, either having just stood up or moving to sit down, and there were two smaller shapes in his vicinity. One, they could just barely make out and recognized Walter, Lord Hamilton’s sheepish clerk. The other, hunched against the wall, was Laila.
They looked at each other once more. This was their time, but still, they had to cross the empty center of the inn, where they would have nowhere to hide. But where was Lord Hamilton? They couldn’t make him out anywhere.
“Ready?” Jacob whispered, tightening his grip on his sword.
“Ready,” Matthew answered, flipping down his helmet’s visor.
“So be it,” Jacob muttered, and the two of them rose from the shadows.
Laila was not content to sit and wait to be either rescued or swept off back to England, although the latter was far more probable in her mind. As far as she knew, Kyle was angry with her and held no desire to see her again. At least, that’s how she would have likely felt if she were in his shoes. Now he was leading a silver caravan and was going to come under attack, and it was her fault.
While she felt she could do nothing about Kyle, she could certainly do something about her current status as a hostage, and she intended to. She watched the last knights ride off and waited a bit as the remaining handful of soldiers who stayed behind with Lord Hamilton settled into their posts.
It was a lazy day at the inn. All had drunk heavily the evening before, and those that stayed behind, save the hulk of a man who watched her closely, moved about with a lull in their step that Laila had seen many times on many men. It was a good opportunity as she was going to get, but still, she needed a little bit of help.
