"Stay up here for a minute," he whispered to Elspeth.
"Nay, don't go down there. They could still hurt you. Wait until they leave."
"Not sure they can drag themselves away from here. Besides, they're not able to fight."
He glanced over the side again, seeing both guards hobbling down the stairs on different levels. When they rounded the building, he went to the other side. They approached MacGirk who still thrashed about in the mud, trying to remove the arrow from his thigh.
"Help me up, you whoresons!" MacGirk ordered them.
"You're on your own. I quit! I'm going to find a healer." Reeves limped toward the horses.
"Aye." MacGuire followed, holding his arm. "Getting my bone set."
"You blackguards! He'll kill me!"
"You abandoned us first," Reeves reminded him. They mounted and raced away in the opposite direction from Henry's castle.
"Come, let's climb down now. They could still go for reinforcements." Even though they'd claimed they were quitting, Cyrus didn't trust their word. He moved toward the ladder.
Once he and Elspeth reached the bottom and rounded the corner of the building, they came upon MacGirk. Still lying upon the ground, he brandished his sword. "Stay back, you whoreson!"
With his weapon, Cyrus knocked his foe's away, sending it hurtling into the mud. "I should kill you for the vile way you treated Lady Grey." Instead, Cyrus smashed his sword hilt against the man's head, then helped Elspeth onto his horse.
"If we're going to Greymont," she said, "I'd like to stop by Darby Hall along the way and retrieve the real deeds before Henry finds them. That is, if the place is deserted. If he has posted more men there, of course, we can't."
"He likely has, especially if he knows you gave him the forgeries. Your safety is far more important than the deeds. I'd rather keep you away from the place. Is there any other road we can take?"
"Not that I know of."
"We'll have to be most careful passing Darby. 'Haps slip through the wood." Cyrus mounted, then guided the horse in that direction. "After I take you to Greymont, I'll return and wait outside Darby Hall for the MacKenzie reinforcements."
When they were about a half-mile from her home, he turned off the road and walked the horse through the small copse of trees.
"I need to see if Dalacroy is occupying Darby Hall and determine whether we can bypass the place through the wood." Cyrus leapt to the ground, then helped Elspeth down. After leading the gelding to the back of the wood, he tethered him to a low-hanging willow branch near a burn with grassy banks. Hopefully, he would not neigh and alert Dalacroy's men to their location.
Cyrus took Elspeth's hand and led her through the wood and closer to Darby Hall. He had near decimated Dalacroy's small army, so he didn't expect to see many men.
They crouched behind the thick gorse bushes and peered out toward the open gate several yards away. He was surprised to see a large number of Highlanders, dressed in belted plaids, milling about in the courtyard. What the hell? Had his own reinforcements shown up? Nay. He recognized none of them. The men were neither MacKenzies nor MacKays. After a moment, two of the clansmen exited and stood guard outside the gates.
"Who the devil are those two?" Cyrus muttered low. All Henry's men wore gray livery, including Lowland breeches. These men wore similar colored tartans, mostly green, which looked vaguely familiar. Cyrus narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the plant badges pinned to the sides of their woolen tams. When he saw the sprigs of common sallow, his stomach dropped.
"Comyn," he growled. "That bastard Paul MacTarril has enlisted Ben Comyn and his clan to help Dalacroy."
"The one who murdered the young lad… Patrick?" Elspeth whispered, sounding panicked.
"Aye." He had no inkling how many clansmen Comyn had brought with him, but judging by the men who walked back and forth beyond the open gate, 'twas a large number. "I have to get you to Greymont quickly."
Before they could move, one of the Comyns dashed out through the gates carrying a screeching woman over his shoulder.
"Nay. 'Tis Gracie, my youngest maid." Elspeth lunged forward, but Cyrus grabbed her arm.
"What's she doing here?" he demanded, his mind grappling with how he could rescue the lass and defeat so many enemies alone. Plus, he had to protect Elspeth at all costs. "The servants were told to either return to their families or go to Greymont, so they'd be safe."
Her eyes wide and filled with anguish, Elspeth tried to tug away from him. "I know not, but she's only sixteen summers."
The Comyn clansman flipped Gracie onto the ground and yanked her skirts upward. She kicked at him and tried to crawl away. He snatched her back and slapped her. The two guards watching laughed and cheered him on.
"And she's with child," Elspeth said.
