“Aye, I’ll come and find ye when I’m free,” Gregory told her before turning back to the others and resuming the discussion while Isla left the room with a heavy heart.
It was only four o’clock and still light. Feeling restless and on edge, she decided to go outside and gauge the atmosphere among the villagers who were streaming into the castle for shelter from the coming storm. She stepped out past the guard on the keep doors and stood on the steps watching as the clansfolk made their way through the gigantic gates to what they hoped would be a safe haven.
The atmosphere was surprisingly subdued, with none of the usual chatter or laughter as the river of humanity flowed steadilyinto the courtyard, some lugging bundles or pushing handcarts full of their possessions. White-faced women carried crying babes in their arms, while scared-looking children pulled their younger siblings along. The old and sick and heavily pregnant were carried in on makeshift litters or supported by strong arms and shoulders inside the towering stronghold.
The cacophony from the livestock and the barking, sniffing dogs that ran loose among the incoming throng echoed from the walls. Sheep, pigs, cows, and goats streamed in along with the people. Those with horses or mules or donkeys rode or drove them through the gates. Chickens and other edible fowl rode in style, packed in willow cages on the beds of numerous carts and wagons pulled by enormous shire horses. More carts and wagons loaded with straw, hay, grain, turnips, and other produce, rumbled over the cobblestones of the courtyard, heading towards the rear of the castle to supply the kitchens and stables.
Among all this, groups of heavily armed soldiers moved rapidly about, their commanders barking orders as they deployed their men to oversee the influx.
The cold leaden weight lodged in Isla’s belly grew heavier still as she watched the strained faces filing past her. The very air felt doom-laden, but she maintained her calm exterior and smiled and nodded encouragingly at the villagers, as was her duty as the laird’s sister.
While she stood there observing the organized chaos, she could not help but overhear the conversation of the guards stationeddirectly behind her on the steps of the castle keep. They were talking to their replacements, who had come to relieve them of duty.
“What’s tae dae, lads?” one of them asked the newcomers. “Is it true what the rumors say, that Ballentine’s army is camped less than a day’s ride from here?”
“Aye, it seems that way. Ye’re tae attend a briefin’ at five with the laird tae get yer orders,” one of the new guards explained.
“Jaysus, I never thought it would come tae this, the enemy campin’ at our gates. It’ll nae take him and his army long tae reach us once they start movin’.”
“The laird’s already sent a messenger tae Laird Allan fer reinforcements, so we only havetae hold them off until they get here.”
“Aye, that’s somethin’, I suppose. With luck, the laird might be able tae infiltrate some spies in the enemy camp and find out what Ballentine’s plannin’.”
“Aye, I’m sure he’s thought of that already… Well, ye two had best be off and get somethin’ tae eat afore the briefin’.”
“Aye, thanks, lads, we’ll see ye later at the barracks fer an ale or two, I hope.” The original guards departed, and the new guards settled into their positions by the door, pikes at the ready.
The comment about infiltrating spies had struck a chord with Isla. Like a seed, the idea took root in her mind. It sprouted and grew quickly, pulling her back inside the keep and upstairs to her chambers in search of privacy. By the time she had shut herself safely inside, the buds of a plan were already forming in her mind. She sat on her bed and thought.
A spy in Ballentine’s camp who could find out his plans to attack the castle could potentially turn the tide of the war, and everyone’s fates. In fact, it could avert an attack altogether, and her brother and his men wouldn’t have to fight. He’d be safe. They would all be safe. But how did one infiltrate an enemy camp without getting found out and killed for being a spy? Or rather, how could a woman infiltrate an enemy camp without getting discovered and killed as a suspected spy, or worse?
Various scenarios ran through her mind, and all but one ended in summary execution. With that possibility in mind, she realized that, even if an interloper avoided detection and discovered Ballentine’s plans, there was no guarantee the attack would be called off. Then it came to her in a sudden burst of clarity, and the plan blossomed to full fruition.
Filled with resolutionand knowing time was of the essence if she were to successfully safeguard Gregory’s life, she hurried to put it into action. She fetched a cloth bag from her wardrobe, placed it on the bed, and spent the next hour packing it with the things she would need for a journey, including a candle stub and tinder box and her father’s dirk, which she stole from Gregory’s wardrobe.
When the clock on the mantel chimed midnight, she was ready. With stout riding boots on her feet, a long, hooded woolen cloak covering her entire person and concealing the dirk stuck in her waistband, she pulled on gloves, hoisted the bag, and left her chambers on silent feet.
Getting out of the castle unseen was perhaps the easiest part. Beneath the hulking fortress ran a network of underground tunnels, from which one could move invisibly to any part of the castle one chose. She and Gregory had played in the tunnels for hours when they were growing up, and Isla knew them well. Descending to the depths by a hidden door, she paused to strike a light before starting off along a tunnel that eventually emerged in the tree line of a copse a few hundred feet outside the castle gates.
She took off across the dark meadows, the half-moon lighting her way to the neighboring farm. There, she paused long enough to steal a horse before setting off in the direction of Waverley Forest. The knowledge that her mission to protect Gregory and all she held dear had begun in earnest spurred her on as she rode through the night.
There’s nay other way than tae sneak intae Ballentine’s camp… and kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
“Our spies’ reports indicate that Galbraith’s castle is well defended, and by now, he’s sure tae be aware of our presence. He’ll be busy beefin’ up his defenses even further,” said Ewan Ballentine to his second in command, Colin Balfour, the following evening.
The pair were sitting at the makeshift table in Ewan’s private tent in the military camp they had established in Waverly Forest. Each man had a dram of whisky set before him. Maps, parchments, and other papers carrying vital information cluttered the surface between them.
“Are ye sayin’ that ye think a head-on assault willnae work?” Colin asked.
“I’m nae rulin’ it out. As ye ken, Colin, I’d rather avoid a drawn-out fight if I can, but breakin’ intae the castle will be nay easy task, that’s for sure. We could end up losin’ a lot of men fer naethin’,” Ewan replied, his forehead creased in thought.
“Aye, I agree. But the only other option is tae lay siege tae the place and starve them intae submission’,” Colin said before pausing to sip his whisky. “That could take weeks.”
“Aye, I’m aware of that.”
“But Galbraith is bound tae have got a messenger off tae Laird Allan askin’ for reinforcements. Surely, we dinnae have time for a siege?”
