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Dead? Her da was…dead?
Florence shook her head, not willing to believe it. “Nae…nae…he cannae be…I do no’ believe ye…”
Her mother’s expression melted into one of sorrow and she said more softly, “It is true, sweetheart. Come wi’ me now and I will explain once we are safe.”
Her whole body felt numb and she blindly followed her mother as she led her out into the hall. The sounds of clashing swords and the screams of injured and dying men was so much louder outside of her room, it almost brought Florence to her knees.
Her mother practically dragged her along, running in bare feet with her sword raised and at the ready.
Florence did not realize she was crying until she felt the tears streaming down her face. Smoke started to curl around them, and she started to cough. Where was her mother taking her? Where were they running?
Where could they run?
“Ma…” Florence gasped. “Are we going tae die?”
Her mother shot her a look over her shoulder and fiercely replied, “Nae, we are no’ going tae die. Am going tae get us out o’ here. Just trust me, aye?”
Florence could only nod, completely at a loss as to how to respond. She did not know how in the world her mother would fulfill that promise, but she did trust her. Florence trusted her mother more than anyone. If she said she would get them out of the castle alive, then Florence believed that she would.
They continued on for several more minutes, the time feeling like an eternity. From what Florence could tell, the fighting was raging on the front of the castle, though it did sound as though there was conflict bleeding into other areas. She and her mother were moving away from it, thankfully, but Florence still did not know where exactly her mother was taking her.
Soon, they turned a corner and entered a hallway that appeared to be a dead end. Florence began to panic. Had her mother gotten lost in all the confusion of the invasion?
To Florence’s disbelief, however, her mother continued forward down the hall. Before Florence could voice her confusion, though, a wall suddenly opened ahead of them. She gasped, stunned. One of the maids poked her head out from the opening, her eyes wide and terrified. The woman waved them over.
“Come, m’lady!” she hissed. “This way.”
Florence had no idea what exactly was going on but she allowed her mother to tug her toward the hidden doorway and down a rickety wooden staircase. The maid ran ahead of them as they descended deeper and deeper. The sounds of battle faded away as they reached the bottom of the stairs into a cool, lowly lit tunnel.
“Whit is this place?” Florence whispered.
“Our escape,” her mother stated simply. Turning to the maid, she said, “Come wi’ us. There is nothing back there for ye but misery and death.”
The maid hesitated, her fear obvious, but she shook her head and stated, “I cannae, milady. I have tae go back…my children…”
Florence’s mother put her hand on the maid’s shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look.
“I understand,” she softly replied. “I will pray for ye, and everyone still alive. Am sorry there is nothing more I can do.”
“It is all right, m’lady,” the maid assured her. “Nae one will blame ye for running. No’ after…Laird Andrew…”
Florence saw her mother swallow deeply, as if she were pushing back her sorrow at the mention of her husband’s name. She lifted her chin and hid her true feelings from her expression, putting on a brave face.
“The clan will survive this,” she said with confidence. “Ye are a strong people. I ken ye will make it through.”
The maid nodded and replied, “Thank ye, milady. I pray tae have half yer strength in the days ahead.”
With those parting words, the maid turned and disappeared down the tunnel. Without a word, Florence’s mother urged her down the tunnel in the opposite direction. She had had no idea such a tunnel existed beneath the castle. How far did it go? Were they very deep underground? Why did it exist in the first place?
As they made their way along the cold passageway, the wet mud of the floor squelching beneath their bare feet, Florence told herself she was prioritizing the wrong questions. She should not be so worried about the tunnel. She should be worried about the chaos that they were running from.
“Ma, will ye please tell me whit is going on?” She whispered. “Who is attacking? And is da really…really dead?”
Her voice choked out the last few words and they tasted like ash on her tongue.
Her mother did not slow her steps, but did say, “Tis the McClarens. They tricked us. They kent we would be celebrating this night. Kent our defenses would be down. They must have had someone on the inside o’ the castle tae open the gate for them. They attacked so swiftly, nae one was prepared. Yer da…he left our bed tae see whit was happening and was slaughtered before he could even realize we were under attack. He fell on the stairs. I saw it and ran as fast as I could before I was caught and slaughtered as well.”
A lump formed in Florence’s throat and her stomach roiled so violently, she feared she would be sick.
