DARKNESS AND SHADOW
Alina's head whipped round. She stared at Aili. Aili looked unworried.
It was the dream!
Alina felt her whole body grow cold. She had foreseen that death and terror would follow Duncan's words and now the castle was besieged. The last siege Lochlann had faced was over sixty years ago, in the time of her great-grandfather's reign! How was this possible?
She stood and gathered her skirts in her hand, reaching for composure. Nodded to the maid and to Aili. “We must leave.” She was undisturbed, completely herself. No one would guess that a moment ago she had been numb with terror.
Aili stood. She said nothing. Stood in the middle of the room, arms at her sides, eyes closed. She seemed to be summoning some sort of blessing, her face serene and calm. Then she turned to Alina.
“We leave now.”
Alina nodded and together she, Aili, and the serving woman walked calmly down the stairs.
They reached chaos.
The corridor that connected the east wing to the castle was a pandemonium of guards, shouts and running feet. As Alina stepped into the hallway a man-at-arms almost ran into her, then exclaimed and moved hastily aside. Alina stopped him, taking his arm.
“What is happening?” she demanded. “Gaire? Tell me.”
The use of the man's name – luckily Alina knew him by name – calmed him. It seemed to also calm the others, as the movement became noticeably more ordered as they walked through to the hallway. He swallowed hard. “My lady, the castle is under attack. We are surrounded. The men are on the wall now...” he made a mute gesture of appeal and Alina guessed he wished to join his colleagues.
“Thank you,” she nodded briskly. “Off you go. Blessings on you,” she added. He smiled radiantly. Then, after bowing and muttering thanks, she ran to join the others.
She went back to her companions. “They're at the gates,” she explained quickly. The maid looked worried but Aili was still.
“We should gather in the hall,” Aili said calmly, her voice deeper, strong, and firm.
Alina nodded. That made sense. Laid the length of the courtyard, away from the drawbridge, with thick doors, the great hall was the safest place to shelter from attack. She walked beside Aili, and, together, they headed down the corridor towards the stairs.
On the way down, Alina stumbled. Someone had run into her.
“Alina!” the person who had hit her said, amazed.
“Chrissie?” Alina stared at her. She had not expected to see her little cousin, all gold curls and white lace, running up the stairs. She should have been safely settled in the hall already!
“Alina! Oh, thank Heaven!” Chrissie ran at her and threw her arms around her, clinging on.
Alina smiled and stroked her back, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “Come with us. We're going to the great hall. It's safe there.”
“Us?” Chrissie paused. She looked to her right, and then gave a little gasp. Aili, Alina realized, had retired from castle gatherings when Chrissie was a year old. She had never gone to visit in the east wing, as far as Alina knew. Aili was a total unknown.
The girl looked at the older woman, their eyes level. Chrissie was slight, and still had a little growing left to do. Alina guessed she would not be as tall as herself or her sister, but more the same frame as their aunt.
Alina glanced sideways at Aili's face. The lines of her jaw were rigid. Her eyes shone. Alina realized her aunt was as close to tears as she had ever been. She wondered in that moment how like Frances, beloved sister of Aili, Chrissie looked. Her heart ached.
The girl looked bewildered and then gave her aunt a shy smile.
“Greetings.”
Aili cleared her throat. “Come on, lass,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. The three of them hurried into the hall.
Inside the hall they found confusion and panic. The servants had fled there – the maidservants, the stable boys, the children of the guards. They sat at the benches, faces blank with fear, or huddled in the corners, the children scurrying about, wide eyed. The room was dark and smelled of terror. Alina heard a pounding, a dull thud. It echoed through the building, the sound of wood, cracked against wood. She closed her eyes and the children wailed.
The enemy was battering the gate.
The noise of cries and terror made Alina wince. She put her hands over her ears. Then, silently, she walked to the center of the hall.
“Tam,” she called at the group of youths, stable-hands she assumed, who scurried about, looking frightened and directionless. She had no idea if any of the boys were called Tam, but it was a sufficiently popular name. With luck, a small pale-haired child turned round from where he had been sitting near the raised platform.
“Aye?”
“Will you help me light the torches?”
The little boy nodded. He had a whispered conversation with the other boys and soon they were scurrying about in earnest silence, carrying the pitch logs from wall brackets to the vast fireplace. Alina sighed. That took care of that. The room slowly filled with hazy light and the scent of pitch logs, burning sweetly.
“Blaire?” she called her own maid. She had spotted the woman huddled with a group of older women at the benches. She faced Alina directly.
“Aye, milady?”
“Will you organize some women to fetch soup and bannocks? We can feed the people and supply the men at arms when they take shifts.”
“Aye, madam. Glenna? Come you along wi' me.”
Blaire hurried away, gathering a group of younger women around her. Together they headed from the hall. Soon they and the little girls were handing out food. The hall quieted down.
Alina breathed out raggedly, relief making her feel tired. She returned to Aili where she stood with Chrissie in the corner by a torch. The two were silent, Aili seeming half-entranced, Chrissie looking around, frightened. The peace Aili radiated was comforting, and Alina felt herself relax. Only then did she allow herself to feel her own exhaustion.
“Aunt?” She twisted her hands in her sleeves, tense, walking to the edge of the room. Duncan is out there. What is happening?
With all in order for the present, her mind could find time to worry. She could almost wish more distraction. She imagined Duncan wounded, shot at, dying as the darkness swallowed him.
“Come, lass,” Aili said. She clasped Alina's arm. “Let us pray.”
Alina nodded. That was a good idea.
She knelt, and Aili remained standing, her knees too sore to bend to kneel. Chrissie dropped gracefully to her knees beside Alina, and bowed her blonde curls. Soon the group were surrounded by other men and women, also deep in prayer. Silence reigned in the hall.
Alina, her heart pounding, prayed more desperately than she ever had in her life. Duncan. Let him live. Please. Please, let him live. Let us find a way through this darkness, whatever it might be.