Chapter 24
Winter and Lambert managed to make it through the darkened passageway and to the dungeon where the Scots were keeping Jamesson. They stopped in the shadows, noticing the Scots guarding the cells. There was a big, burly man, sitting on a stool at a table playing dice with a smaller Scot.
“What should we do?” Winter whispered to Lambert. “There is no way we can make it past them.”
“I’ll kill them, that’s what I’ll do.” Lambert was acting crazy again, pulling the sword from its sheath, ready to storm in and kill two men. Winter wasn’t sure if he could do it and put her hand on his arm to stop him.
“Wait,” she whispered. “I think I hear something.”
Sure enough, the door to the dungeon opened and a man shouted down to them. “It’s Aidar!” called out the man. “He’s just returned. Come hear what he has to say.”
“Aidar’s back?” One of the guards jumped to his feet and then the other. Without even questioning leaving their post, they hurried up the stairs and disappeared.
“That’s better,” said Winter, venturing out into the antechamber. “We have to hurry. There is no telling when they’ll return.”
“I’ve got the keys,” said Lambert, yanking the key ring from a hook on the wall. “Jamesson, we’re coming.” He opened the outer barred door and picked up a torch, leading the way inside the area that housed the prisoners.
“J-Jamesson,” called out Winter, her teeth still chattering. “Are y-you in here?”
“We’re here to save you, Son,” added Lambert.
“Father?” came a voice from the only occupied cell. “Is that you?”
“This place is nothing like Martin’s dungeon,” said Winter, looking around the filthy, damp, dark place, staying close to Lambert and hoping a rat wouldn’t wander over her foot.
“We’re getting you out of here, Son.” Lambert opened the cell door and Jamesson fell into his arms in a hug. He had many of the same features as Martin, but his hair was longer, and he had a full beard and mustache. His eyes weren’t dark blue like Martin’s, but rather a light green color as far as she could tell in the dim light.
“Who is this?” he asked, perusing Winter.
“This is Lady Winter,” said Lambert.
“I am your brother’s wife,” she told him.
“Martin is married?” A small smile turned up the corners of Jamesson’s mouth. “I never thought I’d live long enough to see that. No wonder he took forever to save me. Where is he?”
“Never mind that,” said Lambert, directing him toward the door. “We’ve got to get out of here before they find out what we did. Your mother will be so happy to see you again and so will your sisters.”
“Mother has returned with Juliana and Susanna?” asked Jamesson, excited by the thought. His eyes met Winter’s. She frowned and shook her head.
“Oh,” said Jamesson, understanding that his father was senile.
“If we hurry, we can sneak into the courtyard and hide in the wagon.” Winter divulged the plan. “Hopefully, Nairnie will know we are there and take us to safety, away from the castle.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jamesson. “Why are we hiding instead of fighting? And where is Martin?”
“I’ll explain things, but we need to keep moving,” said Winter. They had one chance to make this plan work. If it didn’t, they were all going to be in a lot of trouble.
* * *
“We can’t wait any longer,” said Martin, starting forward on his horse. “I just saw Aidar go over the drawbridge. That means they won’t have killed Jamesson yet. With any luck, we’ll be able to find Winter and my father before they do.”
“How do you propose we approach this?” asked Sir Gawain as they rode toward the castle over the long bridge.
“The only way we can – head on,” Martin told him. “We’re going to ride into the castle without seeming threatening. If they give us any trouble – well, that’s what this is for.” He tapped the sword at his side.
They continued over the water toward the castle, on the bridge that led to the castle’s drawbridge. Things seemed to be buzzing inside the courtyard, taking everyone’s attention away from their approach. He could hear shouts and laughter as the Scots welcomed home the laird’s son. To his surprise, they were able to ride right in through the castle gate before anyone stopped them.
“Stop!” shouted a guard from the battlements. That drew the attention of all the rest of the Scots to Martin and his friends.
“We come in peace,” he said, lifting his hand in the air to show he wasn’t holding a weapon.
“De Grey,” snarled Laird Gregor Dunbar, drawing his sword and rushing over with his men following him.
“Is that any way to greet us, Dunbar?” asked Martin. “Or are you deaf? I said we come in peace, so put down the weapons.”
“I dinna believe ye,” said Gregor, holding tight to his sword.
“Your son is free and now I want my brother released as well.”
“He didna free me,” Aidar shouted. “It was his old lover who did it. He had no intention of settin’ me free at all.”
Gregor chuckled. “So, a lassie scorned is who we have to thank for my son’s release?”
“They have troops waitin’ at the edge of the forest,” called out the man in the lookout tower.
“Do ye expect me to believe a man lookin’ for peace has come equipped with men for battle?” asked Gregor. “I kent I couldna trust ye!”
“Does a man looking for a fight order his troops to stay back instead of storming the castle with him?” Martin rallied. “I told you – all I want is my brother, and then we’ll go peacefully on our way.” Martin scoped the area as he spoke. Nairnie stood in the shadows, but he did nothing to acknowledge her and neither did she let the Dunbars know that she knew him either.
“Let me see if I have this right,” Laird Dunbar said, lowering his sword but still holding it at the ready. “Ye had no intention of releasin’ my son. But now that he escaped, ye think I should just hand over yer brathair and let ye ride out of here with no repercussions?”
“We both held prisoners, but it is time we end this feud,” said Martin, not believing he was suggesting this since the Dunbars and the de Greys had been feuding ever since he could remember.
“I’m no’ so sure I agree,” said Gregor.
Nairnie headed slowly toward the wagon. Martin’s heart jumped into his throat when he noticed Winter, his father, and his brother emerging from the dungeon and sneaking into the back of the cart. Mayhap he wouldn’t have to pursue this battle if they managed to get out of the castle while hidden.
“Perhaps we should see what yer brathair has to say about all this,” said Gregor, almost making Martin moan aloud. “Guards, bring me the prisoner. I swear, de Grey, ye are weaker than I thought. Yer faither would never have folded so easily, wantin’ peace. Next thing I ken, ye’ll want to make amends by givin’ me a flower.” Gregor looked around. “Where did that peddler woman with the flowers go?”
“It looks like she’s leavin’,” said Aidar, pointing to the wagon moving toward the gate.
Nairnie drove the wagon through the crowd, looking straight ahead.
“Let the woman through,” Martin told Rock and Sir Gawain, moving to the side. Nairnie kept a cool composure as she passed by them. Martin prayed Rock wouldn’t acknowledge her in any way.
“The prisoner is gone!” shouted his guard, running up from the dungeon.
“Gone?” Gregor spun on his heel. “Stop that old woman and close the gate! Check the back of her wagon and kill anyone ye find in it.”
“I can’t let you do that,” said Martin, fearing for Winter’s life. “I tried to be peaceful, but it’s just not going to happen.” He drew his sword and headed his horse straight for Laird Dunbar. Sir Gawain and Rock started fighting as well. Martin’s father and brother sprang out of the back of the cart with their swords drawn.
“We’ve got visitors approachin’ on the bridge,” shouted out another guard.
Martin figured it was his troops coming to help them. He had to do something to keep the gate from closing. He hurled a dagger through the air, up at the guard on the battlements controlling the gate. It stuck into the man’s chest, dropping him to the ground. Scots surrounded Martin, causing his horse to rear up, pawing the air. His fingers slipped on the reins, and Martin fell to the ground.
“I want to kill him for what he did to me,” said Aidar, grabbing a battleaxe from one of the Scots and running toward Martin with it raised high over his head.
Martin quickly got to his feet, blocking the axe with his new sword. The axe handle broke in half and fell to the ground.
“He’s got a sword forged in hell,” shouted Aidar with eyes of fire.
“Dunbar, what is goin’ on here?” Two Scots entered the courtyard just before the gate came crashing down. Martin could see his troops coming over the bridge, but they wouldn’t be able to get inside to help them now.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” asked Gregor, pulling Winter from under the hay.
“You harm her and I’ll have your head, Dunbar!” Martin fought off several men, making his way to Winter.
“That’s his wife,” shouted Aidar.
“Oh, good, I have myself another prisoner,” chuckled Gregor.
“Nay, leave me alone,” said Winter, struggling against the man’s hold. “We’ve come for an alliance.”
“It doesna seem that way to me when ye are hidin’ in a cart with my escaped prisoner!” shouted Gregor.
“Winter?” asked one of the Scots who had entered just before the gate closed. He was an older man with red hair, wearing a dark green plaid. “What are ye doin’ here?”
Winter’s eyes opened wide when she saw who was speaking. “I am so sorry, really I am.”
“Hold up, ye fools,” cried out the newcomer. “Dunbar, dinna hurt the lass. She is my daughter!”