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“There is but one main gate, and that is poorly guarded. If we can reach the castle unseen we shall have little difficulty in gaining entry.”
“Aye, Laird,” agreed Aiden. “Those trees to the west will provide ample cover to bring us within a hundred yards of the walls. I see no archers on the battlements.”
“That does not mean there are none within. We need to approach swiftly and overcome their defences before they can properly react. Ye shall lead the advance through the trees. Take thirty men and signal when ye’re as close as ye can get without alerting the castle guards. Once your flank is in position I shall charge from the east to draw any fire from their archers and lure their guards away from the main gate on the western side. Ye shall attack their unguarded portal. I shall see ye in the castle bailey, my friend.”
“Aye, that ye will. The signal shall be a single whistle, easily mistaken for the hoot of an owl.”
Aiden nodded once and wheeled his mount away. This would be swift. And decisive.
* * *
There were archers on the Etal battlements, perhaps a couple, but their aim was poor and their range utterly ineffective. Other defences amounted to little more than token resistance by a band of elderly retainers and a handful of villagers with pitchforks. It would have been laughable were the puny reaction to the attack by the Highlanders slightly less ominous. Blair knew before he’d even charged across the drawbridge to reunite with Aiden in the castle bailey that the lack of any significant resistance proved that Ingram was not at Etal. His second-in-command had arrived at the same conclusion.
“He has fled, sir. Already.”
“Could he have had word that we were approaching?”
“Perhaps. We are in England now and none hereabouts owe us any allegiance. Our quarry might have been forewarned.”
“Craven coward. He has not the backbone to stand and account for his deeds, let alone to defend his own.” Blair glanced about him as his men rounded up the castle occupants, herding them together in the centre of the courtyard. His jaw was set as he regarded them, his gaze cold. “Make sure all are assembled. Leave no one inside.”
“Laird?”
Aiden appeared troubled by that order, but Blair raised a hand to forestall any argument. “Do it. I want every man, woman, and child to be brought here and lined up before me. And search the stables, the storerooms, the butteries, the lord’s private quarters. If there is any evidence of the spoils from Mortain to be found here I want to know about it.”
Aiden nodded and set off to do his laird’s bidding. Satisfied, Blair nudged his destrier’s flanks with his heels to guide the animal forward. He approached the entrance to the keep, intending to urge his horse up the short flight of steps then to enter the great hall itself. He reined his stallion to a halt as a slender figure emerged from the darkness within.
“Madam…?” He knew Ingram to be unmarried and had expected to find no noble females here, yet this woman was clearly of gentle birth. She wore a pale apple-green kirtle of fine quality linen, belted with a band of velvet in a darker shade which put Blair in mind of the waves which lapped the shores of his island home. Her hair was covered by a shawl in the same apple green as her kirtle, but a few wisps of reddish-blond hair escaped to frame her delicate features. His position astride his horse placed him at eye level with her as she hovered in the castle entrance, one hand clutching the stone to her right as though scared to relinquish her hold on her home. She would lose her grip soon enough, he promised himself silently.
“Your name, madam?” His tone was clipped, uncompromising. The girl was lovely, he would concede that, but he had no doubt that she was his enemy and could expect no gentle courtesy from him.
She tilted her chin in his direction, shifting her gaze until it settled on his chin. The wench might well baulk at looking him in the eye. He had no such compunction, studying her face at his leisure as she stood framed in the doorway, the noontime sun bathing her in a pool of light whilst it probably dazzled her. It was her eyes which caught his attention. They were stunning, quite beautiful in a shade of lavender he had never encountered before. Not quite blue, yet not purple either, they glittered with tears she had yet to shed.
“I asked ye tae identify yourself, lady. Must I ask ye again?” His tone had hardened further, and he did not miss the slight flinch as she heard it too.
“I am Roselyn, Roselyn of Etal.” Her voice shook.
“What is your position here?”
“I am sister to Alan, Earl of Ingram.”
“Ah,” Blair acknowledged. He recalled mention of the sister who would be a nun, though a less likely looking bride of Christ he had yet to see. This wench would be wasted behind the cloister walls, though she might soon wish with all her heart to find the cool sanctuary they might offer her.
“Where is your brother, madam?”
“He… he is not here.”
“I had arrived at that conclusion without your aid, lady. I ask again, and for the final time, where is he?”
“I do not know. He received word late last evening that a force was approaching from Mortain, and…” Her voice trailed off and she tilted her chin again, though still failing to meet his gaze. “I am to advise you to return to your own keep, but I realise that will not happen unless I surrender the castle to you.” She lowered her hand to rest it upon the keys fastened to her waist.
“I care not for your English fortress. The place will be ashes soon enough in any case. I only want your craven cur of a brother, and those who rode with him to lay waste to my cousin’s home and who murdered his family. Where did he go, my lady?”
She shook her head and stepped back. “I… I cannot tell you. I have no idea, other than that he rode south, deeper into England.”
“To Alnwick? To seek the protection of Northumberland?” Blair was guessing, but that theory made sense.
“Possibly, though I do not believe the Percys harbour a great deal of fondness for him. He will not find shelter there.”
