She studied him for a moment. Then she nodded.
“Well?” the guard captain said. “Shall we?”
They set out towards the river, crossing through fields rich with springy grass on which sheep and cattle were grazing. The soil around here had always been fertile and it was one of the reasons why his family had achieved what they had. The river was the other reason. It gave direct access to the sea, whilst inland it cut a swathe through the Highlands and gave access to the larger settlements, further south. That meant whoever controlled this area controlled trade from both the sea and the river and the wealth that came from it. That wealth, by the looks of things, had been flooding in while he’d been gone.
The Pinnacle itself, the ancestral keep of the Sinclairs, had always been grand, sitting on its island on the loch the way it did. Its many high walls and turrets were as tall and imposing as ever, with high banners snapping in the breeze. It was the village along the river banks that had changed. It had grown bigger—much bigger—with many of the wooden houses replaced with stone ones that were better able to withstand the winter storms that blew in off the sea. He spotted several large two-story buildings that he guessed were inns, and hugging the banks on the far side of the river lay the stone foundations of a huge building. From the size, layout, and the number of stonemasons and other workers crawling all over it, he guessed it was going to be a church.
Aye, much in the village had changed since he’d last been here. He wondered what else had.
They crossed the fields, passed through the outskirts of the village closest to the loch, until they reached the water’s edge. Here a landing stage held several large, flat-bottomed barges that were used to ferry goods and people to the keep.
The guards tramped onto the wooden dock, making it shake under their weight. The guard captain approached a small hut at the end and thumped on the door.
“Ferry master! We need passage!”
“All right, all right!” came a voice from within. “Keep yer hair on! I’m coming!”
The door opened and a stoop-shouldered old man came hobbling out. He had wild white hair and equally white whiskers covering his chin. “Ye need to learn some patience, young Donal,” he grouched, squinting up at the guard captain. “I was just about to have my supper.”
“Yer supper can wait,” Donal growled. “Ye will take us to the keep now.”
“Aye, so ye said. What’s so pressing that it would have ye pounding on my door like that?” He looked around. “Ah! Passengers!” He hobbled closer, looked Conall and Molly up and down and his eyes suddenly widened. He broke into a wide grin. “Well burn my beard! Is that young Lord Conall I see before me?”
Conall felt himself grinning in response. “It is, although ‘young’ isnae a word I would use to describe myself anymore.” He clapped the old ferryman on the shoulder. “It’s good to see ye, James.”
“Not as good as it is to see ye, my boy!” He took both of Conall’s hands in his and squeezed them. “Ah, but ye are a sight for sore eyes, lad. Where have ye been all these years? We’ve missed ye!”
To his surprise, Conall felt a swell of emotion at the old ferryman’s words. He’d expected derision and scorn on his return. To know that some still harbored affection for him was more than he’d bargained for.
James continued before Conall could respond. “No matter,” he said, squeezing Conall’s hands once more. “Ye are back now, that’s what counts. And ye have brought yer lady with ye!” His bright blue gaze fell on Molly.
“This is Molly,” Conall said.
“Delighted to meet ye, dear,” James said, before winking at Conall. “There is a story there, I can tell! But we canna stand here chattering all day, let’s get ye to the keep!”
He shuffled along the dock to one of the barges tied up at the end. Despite his limp and advancing years, he hopped nimbly aboard and waved at the others to do the same.
Conall stepped down onto the barge then held out a hand to Molly. She took it and allowed him to help her aboard but her eyes were fixed on the loch and the keep. She had gone pale, worry shining in her eyes. Perhaps he should have warned her about all this, given her time to prepare. Why hadn’t he? Was it all really so hard to talk about, even after all these years?
The guards clambered aboard and James pushed off, pulling on the oars with the strength of a much younger man. A light breeze sprang up, whispering across the shimmering water and tousling Conall’s hair. His gaze flicked to the water sliding beneath the boat. When he’d been a child he’d spent most of his time in it, diving to find crabs and crayfish, larking about with his friends. It had been a different time, a happy time, but it was now so long ago he could barely remember the boy he’d once been.
As they crossed the water, he tried not to think about what lay ahead, about what he was here to do. But even so, he found himself turning to look out at the Pinnacle, growing ever larger as they neared, until they passed beneath the shadow of its towering walls.
Craning his head back, he saw guards patrolling the battlements, their weapons glinting in the sunlight. Even the Order of the Osprey, with all their might, would be hard pressed to take this place. He paused, an odd sensation stealing through his gut. Wasthatwhat he was planning? Of taking this place? Of making war on his childhood home?
He squeezed his eyes shut. How had things ever come to this?Sometimes, we have to turn around completely and return to the starting point before we can see the true road ahead.This could not have been what Irene MacAskill had meant, surely? But hehadcome full circle, just like she’d said, right back to where everything had started.
And if his worst fears were confirmed? If he did discover what he expected to find here? Would he really do it? Would he bring an army here? Duty and loyalty were heavy burdens sometimes but he doubted he’d ever felt them as heavily as he did right now.
I do what I must, he said to himself, clenching his fists.What my conscience and my oaths demand.
The ferry rounded a corner of the keep and Conall spotted the gates up ahead. They were as tall and forbidding as he remembered them, with a winding causeway running up to them from the landing stages arrayed along the water’s edge. Seaweed-covered rocks lay tumbled along the shore and a few gulls sat on them, watching the new arrivals with interest as James brought the ferry against the landing stage and tied her up.
“Here ye are, young master!” he said brightly. “Dinna forget that ye owe me a story!”
Conall smiled and clapped the old man on the shoulder. “I willnae forget. And perhaps a tankard or two of ale as well?”
James smiled widely. “Now ye are talking. Ah, but it’s good to have ye back, young master.”
