SEARCHING THE PLAIN
“Amabel!”
Broderick rode along the road like a madman. He had barely rested since he left his brother almost at the gates of the fortress.
That was a day ago. He had ridden back along the road, back to where the man Walter had found the coach. Keith caught up with him a day later, but had nothing to report – he had headed to the abbey and then further south, looking for the coach.
Together, they examined the hollow shell.
As he looked at it, all Broderick's assumptions around the disappearance died.
“Raiders,” Broderick said.
He looked at the hoof-prints, deep and indelible around the coach. A party of perhaps eight men, he guessed, no more. The tracks led north.
Broderick felt a deep, aching sadness then. He knew that if he gave into it, he would cry aloud, a sound of agony he was sure would never stop. Instead, he decided to turn it into rage – a time-honored tradition.
Shouting wordlessly, he kicked the side of the carriage.
“Find the horses,” he said to Keith. “Take them back to Dunkeld with a message to Duncan. Tell him I will avenge Alina, and my wife.”
Keith blinked warily. “As you say, lord.” He set off to the front of the carriage where the horses had long ago been cut loose. Looking at the tracks, he sorted the heavier cart-horses from those of the lighter hunting-horses.
“Here they are,” he murmured. “They're going that way. Onto the road.”
“They took the horses,” Broderick commented. “So it was certainly raiders.” He did not want to acknowledge that Amabel and Alina had been taken in a raid, though there seemed no other possibility. That would be worse than anything he could imagine.
“Raiders from where, though?” Keith squinted at him. “Over there?”
They both looked along the tracks to where they headed north, weaving on and off the road as if to confuse would-be trackers.
“Yes,” Broderick agreed. “Which is odd. There's no one up that way. Except for...” He suddenly realized. The realization floored him. “Except MacDowells!”
He had been right. Amabel had been right. The more he looked at the shell of the carriage and the tracks, the more he seemed to understand. Amabel and Alina's plan to visit the shrine was a ruse, as Duncan had suspected. If he had listened to Amabel's suggestion, she would not have ridden off on some dangerous plan of her own. She had been heading to the MacDowells, to find proof to make him believe her.
And now she had been captured.
“Keith,” he said quickly.
“Yes, sir?” The man looked worried.
“I want you to ride back to Dunkeld. Tell my brother I am at the MacDowell stronghold. Tell him to join me. With troops. As many as he can spare. Make it as intimidating as possible. And tell him... never mind. Tell him to come immediately.”Keith nodded. Impulsively, Broderick drew a ring from his finger. Gold alloyed with bronze, it was not the most beautiful he owned, but it would buy a good piece of land. “Take this. Keep it.”Keith, a yeoman farmer loyal to the thane, stared at the ring as if it had danced a reel. Then he stared at Broderick.
“Thank ye, lord.” He sounded amazed.
“Not at all. Ride, now!”
Without waiting for a response, or to check he was obeyed, Broderick wheeled around.
He ran to his horse and mounted, then headed along the road. Heading north. To find his brother's beloved, and his own.
Amabel.
As he rode, the anger dissolved and the tears fell.
Why had he not believed her?
“I wish I had,” he shouted. “I will never dismiss her again.”
His vision blurring, he rode on across the cold, tree-studded land.
To reach the MacDowell fortress before it was too late.
“Amabel,” he whispered. “Amabel!”
He wished he had realized just how much he loved her. Realizing it, he was not sure how he had failed to see it. And he was not sure if his heart would not break.