8
When he put her down on the floor, Isla rubbed her ribs.
“Ow, sir, ye have bruised me. If ye don’ like what ye hear, please will ye reserve yer anger for those who deserve it!”
He glowered at her and not even the prettiness of her face in the light of the rising sun could stop him from trying to blame someone. “Ye might have warned us about yer blabbermouth of a friend! That daft numpty-japes kent well how important our escape was, an’ she could nae even stand firm for ye? Some friend she is!”
Isla was irate. She was scared of the situation they were in and wanted to take it out on someone too. She had already been halfway to thinking of Finlay as her savior, an omnipotent being who could snap his fingers or swing his sword to make everything better again. She had seen him slaughter his foes using his left hand as easily as if they were wheat in the field, and now she felt let down.
“Don’ ye cast aspersions on poor Pila! She did what every other maiden would have done under the same circumstances! D’ye expect her to go to the pillory for ye?”
Several of the men answered this question for Isla. “Aye, lass! We do!” Alex shouted the words the loudest, no longer caring if his scathing accusation would make Finlay mad at him. “We do expect that blasted wastrel mate o’ yers to go to the pillory for us! Ye’re her best friend, an’ she goes and spills the beans on us without even botherin’ her fathead to find out if we are all to be hanged for it!”
Finally, the seriousness of the matter registered in Isla’s brain.
“Hanged?” She was aghast. “/but we’ve done naught wrong!”
Her father, trying not to let his anxiety show, could no longer hold out false hope about their wretched circumstances.
“McMichaels is goin’ to hold on to us until I tell him where the gold is, Isla. Once he gets his hands on it, he’ll find some trumped-up charges to pin on us so that he can keep it all for himself. Unpaid taxes, aidin’ an’ abettin’ the auld laird’s son in nefarious deeds—anything. D’ye think he’ll worry overmuch if the punishment is hangin’? I dinnae think so.”
Isla began to pace up and down, from one side of the dank cell wall to the other, now hating Pila for her betrayal as much as the men did. “Why is the steward so desperate for gold, Faither? Our wee nest egg cannae be that much, can it? Can it?”
All of Finlay’s men turned to hear the blacksmith’s answer.
The man sighed. “If ye must ken, I had an agreement with the late laird. I set it up after me master, the elderly blacksmith who trained me to craft weapons and armor, retired an’ then passed away. It put me in a position to name any deal I liked because the war was nae goin’ away. Nay new craftsman would want to come and live in such a war-strewn village, and the nearest town hardly merited the name. There was a merchant house, a hostelry, a grocer’s shop, an’ no’ much else. Oh, and the laird, yer late faither… Finlay, sir, he would have done anything to keep me here, churnin’ out the armory as the raids continued. So, I chose to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak; I paid no taxes to yer faither in exchange for stayin’ here an’ workin’. It was a sweet deal, nay doubt about that! But when Isla grew to the age to start lookin’ about her for a husband, it was time to leave. But guess who it was who witnessed the contract I signed with yer faither, Finlay?”
Alex answered when Finlay chose not to and stayed leaning against the cell wall, a massive frown marring his handsome features, “The steward witnessed the deal ye signed with the late laird.”
The blacksmith nodded. “Aye, an’ no’ only did he witness it, but he wrote out the points of the contract too! Now that he has unlimited access to the auld laird’s account ledgers, he will have a very shrewd idea about how much gold I have stored away.”
Finlay lifted up his head at this. “Is it enough for McMichaels to want to commit murder for it?”
“Aye, an’ then some!” Master McDonnell went to his daughter and put his arm around her shoulders. “Isla’s mither brought a comfortable portion with her into the marriage too, and we have quarters in the castle to stay in during the raids. After Isla’s mither passed away, I spent no more money repairing our wee cottage down in the bailey because what’s the use? It would only end up burned and gutted the next time there was a raid. So I was able to save up a considerable nest egg for Isla over the years.”
Isla broke away from her father’s hug. “Why did ye no’ tell me this before, Faither? Why did ye only choose to leave now?”
The blacksmith hesitated before replying, “Daughter, I watched ye standin’ on yon battlements, throwing pitch down on the raiders an’ ducking arrows t’other day. That’s when I decided to leave this wretched place. I put it off for far too long because the money I was makin’ was so good, but what would all me hard work be for if I lost ye?”
There was silence in the cell as father and daughter hugged. “We have been forced to live such a frugal life, Isla, because I have been thinkin’ for the last nineteen years that the war cannae last much longer so I must save up for the day when a peace agreement was reached, but it just went on an’ on.”
She watched the laird’s son shift and then stand up. He and some of his men had laughed when they heard the blacksmith say Isla had been throwing pitch over the battlements at attackers underneath.
Alex had turned to Finlay, saying, “The girl has spirit, nay doubt!”
“Keep yer secrets about yer gold, blacksmith. It’ll do naught to save ye now.”
Strangely enough, after saying that, the laird’s son put one finger to his lips and gestured for Isla and the blacksmith to follow him to one corner of the cell. It was where the privy hole was situated, and Isla recoiled with disgust when she realized what it was.
Finlay beckoned them to come closer and whispered softly so that only they could hear.
“There is a spyhole drilled into the ceiling corner opposite the privy hole. I ken this because I am the castle’s rightful laird an’ me faither told me about the hidden spy room above us. Ye can be sure the steward’s men aredefinitelywatchin’ and listenin’ to everything we say. So far, all they have been able to overhear is the normal chat of prisoners, which is why I only told ye about the spyhole now. They have heard everything they expected ye to say, Master McDonnell. Ye’ve given’ them the impression we are no’ aware of their spyin’, but I ken every nook an’ cranny o’ this castle, and there are more secrets to these dungeons than they realize. That’s why I’m askin’ ye, Isla, to think of a way to get on the other side of the cell door so ye can distract the guards.”
The blacksmith whispered back, “Hold on, ye want Isla to risk her life escapin’?”
The laird’s son shook his head. “I dinnae say that, did I? She’s a bonny lass, and the guards are men. She will have the best chance of gettin’ on the other side of the door. An’ once she does, I’ll take care o’ everythin’ else.”
Master McDonnell grumbled under his breath. “Och, I leave it up to ye, Isla. Do ye think ye’re up for the task? It’s nay lighthearted caper the man’s talkin’ about. What he wants ye to do is…dangerous.”
