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“Nay, no time. Leave me,” wheezed the injured man. “Ye must go. At once. Our laird is attacked, he sent us to summon aid. Ye must leave now, afore it’s too late.”
“Mortain is under attack?” Blair waved his arm to summon more assistance in order to carry the man into the keep. “But who would do this? We are not at war.”
The wounded man snorted. “There are always those who will try to take what is not theirs. The English attacked us, the Earl of Ingram. He has besieged Mortain and demands the surrender of the keep. Sir Edmund cannot hold him off much longer and sent us to seek your aid. Ye will come, aye?”
“Aye, we’ll be there.” Blair half carried the man to the entrance of the great hall, where he handed him into the care of a bunch of female servants. “Tend him well, and the others too. They have ridden hard and are exhausted.” He turned to Robbie. “We’ll need at least fifty men, our finest. Leave just enough to see to the safety of Duncleit, the rest ride with me. Ye stay here to command the fortress in my absence. Aiden will be my second in command on this foray.”
As Robbie hastened to do his bidding Blair closed his eyes and drew in a long, slow breath. He had a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.
* * *
“It took Edmund’s men two full days and nights to reach Duncleit, and we have taken only slightly less on the return journey. Already this bloody earl has had four days in which to wreak his havoc.” They had slowed their horses to allow the mounts a much needed rest and Blair took the opportunity to offer his grim observation to Aiden Montgomery, the knight who rode at his side.
Aiden was of Irish origin but had arrived in Scotland as a lad of five following yet another famine in his home country. He had travelled the Highlands before settling at Duncleit in return for an opportunity to be apprenticed to Robbie and train as a knight. Blair had never had cause to regret his father’s investment in the itinerant lad. Aiden was a fine addition to their garrison. His formidable skills with the claymore and bow were matched by his keen intelligence and avid interest in everything that happened in Scotland and the borders. Blair had long since abandoned any attempt to understand how his captain-at-arms was always so well informed, but he was the one he always turned to when he needed information.
“I do vaguely recall my father had dealings with the previous Earl of Ingram, though ‘tis a name I have not heard mentioned for years. He offered one of his sons as a match for Joan but she was promised to Edmund since we were all children together so the alliance was never seriously considered. What do we know about the current earl? Why would he attack Edmund? And what is his strength?”
Aiden narrowed his eyes in concentration. “The current earl is a younger son who inherited when both his older brothers perished at Piperdean. It was the oldest lad, Arthur, I believe, who sought your sister’s hand. He subsequently wed an heiress from Chester though the match was childless. The younger son who eventually inherited the title was meant for the clergy I gather so he is untrained for battle but he does not allow that to dissuade him. Perhaps that does not matter since he is favoured by Henry Percy, the Duke of Northumberland and enjoys his protection. The earl’s keep is close to Berwick but he desires to extend his lands and cares little in which direction he turns. For obvious reasons he chooses not to provoke Northumberland, the most powerful noble in the north of England. He has two hundred men under his command, well trained I gather but unpaid for some months. He will be seeking wealth, and is already attempting to marry off his sister to acquire influence and power.”
“He can raise a dowry?”
“A modest one, perhaps. But he seeks powerful allies and hopes to wed the girl to Percy’s half-brother. I gather the negotiations are progressing well, despite the girl’s reluctance. She is currently residing in the convent at Kelso and has expressed a fervent desire to take the veil.”
“A pious woman with a murderous, greedy bastard for a brother. God’s balls, what a family.” Blair resisted the urge to dig his heels into his stallion’s flanks to gain a fraction more speed. Every moment might count in their dash across the Scottish borders to come to the aid of his kinsmen, but they could not do so on ruined horses. “So ye believe he is seeking money then, as well as lands? He intends to plunder Mortain’s coffers?”
“Aye, I daresay. And he will be familiar with the likely pickings as his older brother was a friend to your cousin, despite the business over Joan’s hand. ‘Twas nothing personal, I gather.”
“But this is personal. The faithless, opportunistic bastard attacks his friends in his greed.”
“It would seem so. He can’t hope to take and hold the keep itself, not without the support and endorsement of King James, which is unlikely to be forthcoming. Also, he must know that we will come to the aid of our clansmen and that our numbers likely exceed his. Ye have a formidable reputation in battle, Laird, so he risks much in crossing The McGregor. My guess is that this is intended to be a swift raid motivated by greed and he will likely have a mind to seize any livestock, along with anything else of value.”
“Hostages?”
“Probably, if he can get his hands on any.”
“My sister is pregnant. If he has laid so much as a finger upon her, I’ll—”
“Laird, let us not borrow trouble. We shall be at Mortain within two hours, then we will know what we are to deal with.”
Blair glanced over at his companion, just a few years older than he was and perhaps his closest friend after Mortain. “Ye’re right, as ever. I appreciate your counsel. And your knowledge.”
“You are welcome to both, sir.”
They kicked their mounts into a full gallop and pounded across the barren moorland in the direction of the besieged keep.
* * *
Blair had feared the worst, but the sight that met his eyes as he crested the last hill which lay between his troop of Highland warriors and the besieged fortress of Mortain exceeded even his worst imaginings. It was almost dawn and the acrid smell of burning hung on the stagnant air. Smoke still rose from the smouldering remains of the castle’s wooden outbuildings, and the stone keep itself stood stark against the lightening sky. Here and there figures moved around, but they were few. Far, far too few. Of the conquering army which had wrought this havoc there was no sign.
“Sweet Jesus,” murmured Blair. “We are too late.”
Aiden did not reply. They urged their horses to yet greater speed and hurtled down the hillside to the ruined castle.
No one offered any resistance or any greeting as they thundered across the meadow which stretched before what remained of Mortain. His men at his back, Blair cantered over the drawbridge to come to a halt at the steps leading up to the castle entrance. He stood up in his stirrups to peruse the ravaged bailey but saw no one he recognised.
“Hey, you. Yes, you man.” He captured the attention of an elderly individual, his breeches tattered, his hair stained with the blood which still seeped from a head wound. “Where is your laird? Where is Edmund of Mortain?”
The man shrugged and turned away. Blair slid from his mount to grab the man by his bony shoulder. He forced the peasant to turn and face him again. “I asked ye a question. Where is Lord Edmund? Lady Joan?”
