"What?" The man stepped closer. "Speak up, you lazy mongrel!"
"I don't answer to you, whoreson!"
The man slashed his blade, head height. Cyrus ducked at the same time he lunged. After he'd run the man through, his companion, who was halfway up the steps, leapt to the ground, his blade flying toward Cyrus's chest. He knocked the weapon away and drove his own into the man's chest.
Both men lay upon the ground, one unmoving, the other jerking. Cyrus dragged them out of sight to lay by their knocked out chum.
"Balcot?" a man yelled from the entrance. "His lairdship wishes to speak to you!"
"Come down here," Cyrus called back, trying to sound like Balcot.
"What the blazing hell are you doing? 'Tis dark as a dungeon out here. Why are the torches not lit?"
"Those damnable shirkers from Darby up and quit. They're gone."
"God's teeth!" The man brought a lantern from inside and descended the steps. "Why has no one taken their place? Where are you?"
Cyrus walked in behind the man and shook his head. Such an easy target. He'd give him the hilt instead of the blade. After Cyrus thwacked him on the head, he dragged him to the side of the castle with the others. The lantern had broken and gone out when the man had dropped it. Cyrus set it aside so no one would notice.
He raced up the steps and peered in at the small window of the door. Sounds of laughter and talking seeped through the thick door. Elspeth sat at the high table about three feet from Dalacroy, a guard behind her. She was not eating as everyone else was, although food sat in front of her. He realized the reason… her hands were bound. That whoreson was shoving food into his mouth, drinking and laughing with his men, while he made Elspeth go hungry.
Fury snaked along Cyrus's veins. The blackguard would pay for that, as well as the rest of the pain he'd caused them.
Tearing his gaze away from her, Cyrus counted ten guards in the great hall along with a man he assumed was a steward, for he was fairly well-dressed. A few servants milled around, serving food and drink. More guards could be stationed against the wall nearest him. Still, a small number, all things considered. Some of the men remained in the barracks. He needed to take out several more so they'd be evenly matched.
At least he knew Elspeth was alive with no visible injuries, even if she was hungry. He had to get her away from Dalacroy tonight.
"Waldrop?" Dalacroy's shout was muffled by the door. "Where is he? One of you, go find Waldrop and Balcot!" He yelled the order toward the low tables.
A guard leapt up and charged toward the exit. Cyrus drew back into the shadows beside the door.
The guard stuck his head out. "Waldrop?" he called. "Balcot?" All was silent and he had not noticed Cyrus. He exited and closed the door back. "Waldrop!" he bellowed. "His lairdship wishes to see you!"
Cyrus butted his sword hilt against the man's temple then shoved him over the balustrade. He landed on the ground in the shadow of the steps. No moaning from this one.
Too easy. Who was next? Through the window, he scanned the great hall again.
After a few moments, Henry glared at the door. "Somebody, go find Balcot and Waldrop! Go look in the barracks. Now! If they're not standing before me in one minute, I'll kick all your arses out of here with no pay."
Three guards sprung to their feet and raced toward the door. Cyrus flattened himself against the wall again. The door swung open and the first guard emerged, then halted abruptly at the top of the steps. The next two guards crashed into him, propelling him stumbling halfway down the steps.
"Watch out, you whoreson!"
"'Tis dark as pitch out here. Why aren't the torches lit?"
"Everyone must be in the barracks. Let's go."
The three trotted down the steps and across the bailey.
Cyrus peered through the window again, seeing Dalacroy rise to his feet, grab his crotch and head toward a small curtained doorway on the outside wall of the room, the garderobe, no doubt. While he was inside, two of his personal bodyguards stood outside. One took a swig from a flask and passed it to the other. The burly guard behind Elspeth came forward, staring down at her breasts, then picked up the bottle of whisky from the table and turned it up.
Keeping his sword hidden beneath the cloak, Cyrus opened the door and entered casually, as a normal guard might, then strode along the side of the large great hall toward the high table. Those at the low tables only gave him a cursory glance and went back to swilling ale. Elspeth's guard placed a hand on her shoulder, then ran it down to her breast.
She drew away. "Get your hands off me, you swine!"
Laughter erupted among the men.
Cyrus wanted to instantly kill him, but he forced himself to walk calmly so he could use the element of surprise. Reaching him, Cyrus grabbed the man by his doublet and flung him against the stone wall. Pandemonium erupted.
