Chapter 23
“Stop here, Nairnie,” Winter said, slowing her horse, staying at the edge of the woods just before they got to Dunbar Castle. Nairnie stopped the wagon and Lambert brought his horse to a halt as well. They’d brought along an extra horse that would be used in the getaway once they’d released Jamesson from the dungeon.
It would have taken three hours to get here from Castle Heaton, but they’d cut close to an hour off the trip by using Martin’s ship and sailing up the coast, thanks to Lambert. Even though he was thought to be addled, the crew did as he wished. They’d docked in the cove at Skateraw Harbor so they wouldn’t be spotted and now would travel the rest of the way hiding in the back of Nairnie’s wagon. They should be to the castle soon.
Dunbar Castle extended out over the water, on a peninsula of its own. It wasn’t an easy fortress to break into. It had a long bridge leading to the castle, so there were only two ways to enter. The first was to attack by sea. However, the Scots had ships of their own. Being surrounded by water as this castle was, the Scots would have seen Martin’s ship and stopped them before they even got close if they had tried to sail right up to it.
The other way to get inside was to approach directly over the bridge. That was very dangerous since even if the drawbridge was down, most the men would get picked off by arrows from the battlements before they ever made it to the gate. Martin was on a suicide mission. Most of his men wouldn’t even make it to the castle’s door.
“I still dinna like this idea,” complained Nairnie, stopping behind a clump of trees just before the long bridge. “Lady Winter, ye should wait for Martin and his troops to get here and no’ attempt to go inside the Scottish castle’s walls alone.”
“She’s not alone. She’s with me,” said Lambert, slipping out of the wagon and picking a few pieces of hay from his clothes.
“Oh, that makes me feel better,” said Nairnie with a roll of her eyes. “An addled man and a gullible young lassie – not to mention an old fool.” She thumped her hand against her chest, speaking about herself. “I am warnin’ ye, Lady Winter, ye shouldna do this.”
“Why?” asked Winter, pulling a sword out from under the hay and handing it to Lambert. She brought another sword for herself that Josef and Wallace had given her from the smithy. They’d wanted to come along and help her, but she wouldn’t let them. The more people here would only make it easier for the Scots to spot them. Besides, Wallace couldn’t see well and might kill one of his own by accident. “Did you have a vision, Nairnie? A vision that we’ll all be killed?”
“I want to lie to ye, Lady Winter, to make ye give up this foolish plan, but ye ken I canna do that. Nay, I didna have a vision although I wish I had.”
“Just stick to the plan, Nairnie. Give us a good ten minutes to get into the water and swim to the hidden gate on the far side of the castle where I know we can get in. Then you go to the castle with the flowers to sell just like we planned. After about another ten minutes, start a disturbance of some kind – away from the cart. We’ll sneak Jamesson out of the dungeon and the three of us will hide under the hay in the cart. Then you can drive the cart right out of there with us in it. They’ll think you’re naught but a crazy old woman and be glad to let you go. Once we clear the bridge, we’ll get to the horses and make a mad dash back to the ship before they spot us.”
Winter looked over to Lambert who now had Martin’s discarded helm over his head. “Nay, you can’t wear that,” she told him. “We’re swimming. Just leave it here.”
“Ye canna think this is really goin’ to work without someone gettin’ killed,” said Nairnie.
“If we’re caught, I’m going to demand to see Laird Dunbar,” said Winter. “Hopefully, when he realizes I am Ross Douglas’ daughter, I can talk him into an alliance with Martin.”
“I dinna think he’ll want to make an alliance with a thief who has just broken into his dungeon and stolen his prisoner. And what happens when Martin arrives with his troops and doesna ken we’ve already saved Jamesson?”
“I’ll stay behind and wait for Martin,” said Lambert. “I’ll tell him before they ever get to the bridge.”
“Yer own son thinks ye’re addled,” Nairnie reminded him. “He willna believe ye.”
“He will if we’re with him as well as Jamesson,” said Winter. “We’ll all wait for Martin to arrive.”
“Why did I ever agree to this?” complained Nairnie, shaking her head. “Ye ken if Laird Dunbar catches us, as soon as he finds out ye’re his enemy’s wife, he’s goin’ to kill ye, lassie.”
“Nay, he won’t,” she insisted.
“So sure are ye?”
“I am, Nairnie.”
“Sure enough to risk no’ only yer life, but the lives of Lambert, Jamesson, me – and even Martin?”
Winter thought about calling off the plan when she heard that, but her gut told her if she didn’t try, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Especially if Martin got killed in the battle when something she could have done might have made a difference.
“That’s the chance I’m willing to take,” she told Nairnie. “Just like Martin’s men that risk their lives following him, and all the men who risk their lives to serve King Edward – it is no different. I am willing to do whatever it takes to make things right for Martin and his family.”
“Me, too,” said Lambert, raising his sword. “I only wish I had a sword forged from Damascus steel right now, just like my son.”
“I promise you if we all make it through this alive – I will forge you one as well,” Winter told him.
Glancing over her shoulder, Winter eyed up Dunbar Castle. It was a more prominent fortress and even more protected than she’d remembered. A knot formed in her stomach. She prayed to God that she would have that chance to make another sword in this lifetime after all.
* * *
By the time Martin joined with the extra troops from his alliances and made it across the border, it was nearly dusk. Martin planned to attack when darkness fell. They’d take the Scots by surprise and storm the castle before they could raise the drawbridge.
It was a risky plan, but he had to try – for his brother’s sake. He wasn’t even at all sure the escaped prisoner hadn’t already returned and that Laird Gregor hadn’t killed Jamesson already. He could only hope for the best.
A knot formed in his stomach. Martin felt apprehensive about this whole plan and also horrible that he’d parted from his new wife today on unfavorable terms. He blamed himself for the most part. How could he have been so blinded by love that he didn’t know she was part Scottish from the start? Being with the old Scottish midwife should have tipped him off. If not, seeing her brother and sister at the border was a dead giveaway. He had turned a blind eye to the fact, not wanting to believe it. He let out an exasperated breath realizing even if he had known Winter was part Scottish; it probably wouldn’t have mattered. He was crazy about her and that was all there was to it.
Yesterday he was married and the happiest man alive. Today, his world came crashing down around him. Why had he ever let Victoria stay at the castle? He should have insisted she leave last night and none of this would have happened.
His only reassuring thought was the fact that Winter was safely back at his castle and no harm would come to her. Scot or not, he loved her and didn’t want a hair on her beautiful head harmed in any way.
He might die today trying to save his brother. The thought of never holding Winter in his arms again or kissing her or hearing her sweet, little giggle made him sick. Nay, he had to stay positive about this whole skirmish. After all, he had a sword now that would cut down any warrior that threatened his life. He would be victorious in the end.
He looked at the hilt of his sword as he rode. Winter’s mark – the little heart was visibly engraved into the metal. He’d given her his heart and, in return, she’d given him her heart, too. Never had he thought she’d say she loved him, but it had happened. Now that it had, he could think of naught else but professing their love for each other over and over again. He prayed to God he’d have that chance.
“Hold up,” he said, raising his hand in the air as they traveled along the coast trying to make better time. “Bid the devil, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing,” he ground out, staring at the ship docked in the cove at Skateraw Harbor.
“Lord de Grey, isn’t that your ship?” asked Rock, riding to his side.
“God’s teeth, it can’t be. Everyone, wait here. Rock, Sir Gawain, come with me.” He rode like the devil to the dock with Rock and his steward right behind him. When he brought his horse to a stop, he spotted his captain, Godfrey, and some of his crew on the pier.
“Lord de Grey,” said Godfrey, rushing over to join him. “I didn’t expect to see you. Your father said you were ill and in bed.”
“My father,” Martin groaned, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. “Where is he? I want to have a word with him.”
“He’s not here,” said one of the crew. “He left with your wife and the old Scottish healer.”
“My wife was here, too?” Fear coursed through him. This was the last thing he wanted to hear. Winter was supposed to be safe at Castle Heaton. He should have known she wouldn’t follow his commands. There was only one place they could be going, but he hoped he was wrong. “Please don’t tell me they went to Dunbar Castle?”
“I believe they did, my lord,” said Godfrey. “They mentioned something about you telling them to meet you there.”
“Like hell I did! I told them to stay at Castle Heaton where they’d be safe. Why did you believe them?”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” said Godfrey. “But I couldn’t go against your father’s orders. After all – he is still my superior and also a noble.”
“I suppose you did what you had to do,” he said, feeling as if things couldn’t get any worse. “How long ago did they leave?”
“It was about a half-hour ago, my lord. Do you think you can catch them?”
“Were they on foot?”
“Nay. They brought horses as well as a cart. The old woman was slowing them down. So if you hurry, you might be able to catch them. What do you think they were planning?”
“I can only imagine what they were thinking, but they’re going to get themselves killed,” he spat, turning his horse and riding like the devil toward Dunbar Castle.
* * *
With dusk setting in, Winter and Lambert were able to slip into the water and swim to the north side of the castle without being seen by the Scots. Trying to swim with their weapons attached was cumbersome and slow. By the time they made it to the shore, Winter was tired and out of breath. Dragging themselves up the embankment, they moved silently toward the postern wall where Winter remembered her father told her was a secret entrance that led straight to the dungeon.
“Get down,” warned Lambert in a hoarse whisper, pushing Winter to the cold, damp ground. She landed hard on her knees, keeping her head down but looking up to see Scots patrolling the battlements. Her teeth chattered from the cold. To make matters worse, the wind picked up and it started to snow.
“It’s all right. They didn’t see us,” said Lambert. “Where is the secret passageway? We need to move fast.”
“I think it’s over here,” she said, leading the way, feeling three times as heavy with the weapons and her wet clothes. She felt so cold that all she wanted to do was to curl up in front of a warm fire wrapped in Martin’s arms. The chance of doing that again was minimal since there was no guarantee she or Martin would come out of this alive. And even if they did, things might never be the same between them again.
Martin hated Scots. Winter was not going to give up her heritage because of the man’s shortcomings with a Scottish clan.
“This could be it,” she said, seeing the large tree stump that was hopefully the secret passageway to the dungeon her father had described to her.
“Where?” asked Lambert, looking around the area. “I don’t see a trap door.”
“That’s because it is hidden. In this stump,” she said, using her knuckles to rap against the top surface of the stump. Sure enough, she heard the hollowness beneath her hand. Using her fingers to skim the surface, she fumbled to raise the edge. But her fingers were stiff and nearly frozen. She couldn’t do it.
“C-can y-you t-try?” she asked hoping the Scots wouldn’t hear her teeth chattering so loudly in her head.
“Let me give it a whirl,” said Lambert, taking a minute but managing to open the secret portal. “By God, you were right,” said Lambert, peering down into the darkened hole. “I wish we had a candle.”
“N-nay, that would only alert the S-Scots that w-we’re coming. L-let me g-go first. I know the w-way.”
Winter placed her foot on the rung of the ladder and descended into the black pit of uncertainty, hoping there wouldn’t be guards waiting for them at the other end of the tunnel. Her eyelids flickered and total exhaustion overtook her. She swayed, almost losing her grip on the ladder.
“Focus, Lady Winter,” warned Lambert from above her. “I’m going to close the lid, so they don’t spot us. It’s going to get very dark.”
“I am,” she told him, trying to think of nothing but that warm fire and lying against Martin’s chest. She hoped they could accomplish their mission and help him. Winter prayed that Martin wouldn’t be killed. And the last thought she had before she descended into total darkness was that she hoped Jamesson was still alive – or this mission will have been for naught.
* * *
When Martin neared Dunbar Castle and found the horses tethered to a tree at the edge of the forest, he recognized them immediately as being his.
“Damn,” he spat, pulling back on the reins and stopping his horse. Rock and Sir Gawain were right behind him. The rest of the troops followed on horseback as well.
“What’s the matter, my lord?” asked Rock, coming to a stop.
“You tell me.” He nodded toward the horses.
“Those are your horses from Castle Heaton,” Rock pointed out the obvious.
“Aye,” he answered. “That means Winter and the others have already done something foolish and it’s too late to stop them.”
“Do you think they’re trying to spring your brother from the dungeon, my lord?” asked Sir Gawain.
“I guarantee it.” Glancing over to the castle in the distance, he shook his head in frustration and denial. “I don’t want to believe it, but it looks as if Winter, my father, and Nairnie are walking right into the lion’s den. Knowing my wife, she’s probably marching right up to Laird Dunbar at this moment, demanding that he release my brother and make an alliance with me, too.”
“An alliance would have been a better move,” agreed Rock.
“This is a very dangerous mission, my lord,” added Sir Gawain.
“You two are not telling me anything I don’t already know, but I didn’t have a choice,” said Martin. “I tried to make an alliance, but Laird Dunbar would not have it. With Lady Victoria’s stupid move of freeing my prisoner, I now have no other choice than to go up against my enemy. We need to get moving.”
“My lord, I thought we were going to wait for the cover of darkness,” said Sir Gawain.
“I would feel better if we did but, at this point, we can’t waste time,” said Martin. “There is no telling what kind of trouble Winter has already gotten herself into. And with my father there to make things worse, it’s going to take everything we’ve got to try to save them all, not just my brother.”
“I’ll do anything at all to help save Lady Winter,” said Rock.
“As well as me,” agreed Sir Gawain.
“I don’t feel good about leading the men right into what might be a trap,” said Martin. “The three of us will go first. If it looks like trouble, the men will come to help us, but only if it is their choice,” said Martin. “This could very well be a suicide mission and I don’t want to be the one to sentence them all to death.”
“I’ll tell them the plan,” said Sir Gawain, turning and riding back to the rest of the men.
“God help us,” said Martin, eying up the fortress of a castle that looked impenetrable. If they all made it out of this alive, it would be a miracle.