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Nay, nae an army. But a group of ten? Aye.
It took them nearly half an hour to get through the soft, squishy ground of the marshes, and Alec brought his men to a stop at the edge of the forest. He glanced up at the parapet at the top of the walls, watching the glow of a torch moving behind the crenellations.
“Soldier on patrol,” Alec said. “He’ll be gone soon.”
He watched until he saw the flames from the torch disappear from view, plunging that section of the wall into darkness once more. He turned to his men and grinned.
“Come on,” he said. “‘tis time.”
Chapter 2
Ten men dashed across the hundred yards of open ground between the edge of the forest and the wall of the manor. They pressed themselves flat against the stone to keep from being seen should a soldier happen by above them.
Alec edged along the stone until he came to one of the turrets built into the wall. He’d had a dalliance with one of the chambermaids a couple of months back and had gotten the information he needed to stage a raid on the Viscount’s manor–including the location of a secret door. The door was an escape route should the manor look like it was about to fall. It provided the Viscount with a safe exit. Except for tonight, it would prove to be his undoing.
Alec felt around the edges of the stone, looking for the trigger she said would be there. He didn’t find it at first and was beginning to worry she had deceived him. But then his fingers brushed the edge of a flat, smooth rock that seemed unnatural. He pushed on it and heard the distinct click of a latch giving way and the scrape of stone. A moment later, light showed around the edges of the hidden doorway, and he let out a soft sigh of relief.
Thank God this worked or this’d been all for naught.
The excitement flowing through him doubled as he gripped the edges of the door and pulled it open. He crossed the ground floor of the turret, looking warily at the staircase that wound upward to the parapets. Not hearing anything, he moved to the door and pulled it open a couple of inches. Alec pressed his eye to the gap and scanned the yard.
“What d’ye see, Cap’n?” whispered one of his men.
“A whole lotta gold just waitin’ for us tae take it,” Alec grinned.
The stone wall surrounded the manor with a turret stationed at each corner. Stables ran along the bottom of the wall to his left and, across the yard on the other side, were what looked to be booths housing a smithy, a fletcher, and an armorer, among other things. Against the wall behind the manor sat what looked like housing for the Viscount’s troops.
The manor sat in the center of the yard, large and imposing. It was built of a combination of light and dark stones and stood higher than the curtain wall itself, the top floors looking down upon the ramparts. The roof of the manor was flat and crenelated like the parapet that sat atop walls that surrounded the manor. Narrow windows and arrow slits were set in the walls and the main door was made of a thick oak reinforced with steel bars.
“What nou, Cap’n?”
“Nou we slip inside’n relieve thae good Viscount of all his treasures.”
Quiet, muffled, but excited laughter sounded behind him. Alec knew from experience that most of the manors these minor nobles built were the same; he never credited the English lords with a lot of originality or creativity. Common areas, reception chambers, kitchens, and servant’s quarters usually occupied the ground floor. Offices and guest chambers made up the second floor, and the Lord of the Manor had his apartments on the top floor.
Alec led his men out of the turret door and single file they hugged the curtain wall, moving past the stables. The one weakness he’d found in most all English manors they’d raided over the years was that most of them had a servant’s entrance near the rear. It was rarely guarded and always easily accessible. Alec had never credited the English lords with a lot in the way of smarts either.
Still in the shadow of the curtain wall, Alec cast a wary eye to the ramparts. There were but a few soldiers in s
ight but they stood with their backs to Alec and his men. They had their eyes trained toward the village, guarding against an attack from without, never anticipating the enemy to be already inside.
“Colin, ye’re on thae doors lad,” Alec whispered. “Go quick’n go quiet.”
A young man–barely more than a boy really–darted away from the group, moving from shadow to shadow. He was the swiftest and smallest among them, so his job was to lock the soldiers into their dormitory and keep them from reinforcing the household guards. A protracted and bloody fight was the last thing Alec wanted.
He watched as Colin swiftly threaded the rope through the pull handles on all three doors. He then took the rope and tied it to a stationary post, essentially locking all of the soldiers inside their dormitory, save for the ones manning the walls, of course.
Alec grinned to himself. The idea had stemmed from a jest Rory had played on him when they were younger. He had been trapped in that outbuilding with a pile of fresh manure as tall as he was for more than an hour before Rory let him out.
Willnae hold ‘em forev’r, but should dae thae trick lon’ enough.
Alec and his men watched Colin do his job quickly and efficiently and then he gave them the sign to move. With one last look to the ramparts, Alec slid his sword from the sheath on his belt and darted to the servant’s door in the back of the house. His heart thundering in his chest, he reached out and unlatched the door and gave it a gentle push.
The door swung inward on surprisingly well-oiled hinges and didn’t make a sound. Alec held his breath and listened but heard nothing in the lower levels of the manor. Everything was still and silent. He crossed the threshold and found himself in the kitchens. The fires in the ovens had been banked but still smoldered, filling the room with warmth.
He smiled, then turned and waved for his men to join him. The house was theirs. Once his last man crossed the threshold, he gathered them around.
“All right,” he started in a low voice. “First things first. Gather up all thae servants but they are nae tae be ‘armed. ‘Tis nae their fault they work for a right arse. Gather them ‘ere in the kitchens. Go nou.”
