The Thistle and the Rose Page 20

  The room was suddenly crowded with men, but Celia saw only Colin beside her as she lay back on the floor.

  “Celia! Thank God,” Colin said soothingly, reaching and caressing her face. In the darkness of the room, he couldn't make out the extent of her injuries. But he could see the small pool of blood beginning beneath her head.

  Celia's hand reached up and gripped his as it cradled her face. The strength of her fingers entwining his own gave him the hope, the sign that he was looking for.

  “When they told me you were missing, I—”

  “Argyll...traitor...Danvers,” Celia murmured, interrupting him, feeling herself beginning to drift. She had to warn him.

  “Emmet,” Colin shouted over his shoulder. “Get Argyll.”

  Colin looked down again at Celia. Now, from the light of the torch just brought in, he could see the lump developing on the right side of her head, behind the ear. Her eyes were trying to focus, but the eyelids continued to flutter over the black orbs. Colin rolled her head slightly, looking for the source of the oozing blood, and found the wound at the back of her head.

  Argyll is going to pay for this, he thought, his rage building within him.

  Dunbar crouched beside him, looking at her injuries, and Colin leapt to his feet.

  “She should survive,” said the priest, looking up at Colin. “She's had worse than this.”

  Colin turned to the door as Emmet rushed in, the young fighter behind him.

  “He's gone,” Emmet exclaimed.

  “What about the Abbot?” Colin demanded.

  “Dead. And the clerk, too,” Emmet replied. “He murdered them on his way out.”

  “How could he get out?” Colin spat at the young fighter. “You were on the landing.”

  “He didn't come out to the landing, m'lord,” the fighter answered.

  Colin heard Celia murmur again and crouched beside her.

  “She said `Passage' and tried to point over there,” Dunbar told him, gesturing toward the panel that the dead attacker lay against.

  Colin strode to the panel and shoved the body aside. Stepping back, he kicked the panel forcefully, splintering the wood and revealing the dark opening beyond. Putting his head through, he could see a ladder leading down into the black hole of a tunnel. Argyll's chamber is on the other side of this wall, he thought. He must have gone out this way.

  “Alec,” he said, turning to his friend. “I need you to stay with Celia.”

  Alec nodded, and Colin faced his fighters. “Emmet, secure the hall and send out for the rest of the men,” he commanded. “I'm going after Argyll.”

  Taking the torch, Colin plunged through the opening and scrambled down the ladder. At the bottom, his torch light showed a long, wet, low-arched tunnel. Sword in hand, he splashed through the tunnel to a narrow wooden panel that swung outward at his push. Colin found himself crouching in a plain, stone-sided box of a room. Pushing the stone walls proved fruitless, but the stone slab that served as a ceiling slid easily to one side. Hopping up and out, Colin found himself standing in a crypt, beside a plain stone tomb. He slid the top of the tomb closed again.

  “Rest in peace,” he muttered to himself.

  As Colin started for the short flight of steps, something glinted in the corner of the crypt behind the largest of the stone tombs, something metal reflecting the light of his torch. The warrior moved quickly to the corner and stopped in amazement. The steel that had caught his eye was a weapon that was protruding from beneath a number of woolen tarps. Colin whipped off one of the tarps. Hundreds of new English halberds lay in piles behind the tomb. Their evil-looking heads of ax, spear, and pike gleamed menacingly in the torch light.

  English halberds in Argyll's castle.

  The abrupt thundering of horses’ hooves outside shook the subterranean vault. Colin turned and ran for the steps that led up into an empty chapel. The warrior yanked open the oak door that led outside, sprinting into the courtyard and the clouds of dust that hid the quick exit of Argyll and a large group of his men.

  Shouting to his own fighters who were now pouring out of the main building, Colin dashed toward the stables, only to find them empty. His face a portrait of fury, the Campbell leader walked back outside, frustrated for the moment but undaunted.

  “We'll get that bastard yet,” he muttered to himself, walking through the group of fighters who had followed him to the stable.

  “The main building's secure, m'lord,” Emmet said, trotting up to Colin. “We have a couple dozen of Argyll's men. Those left behind have no desire to fight.”

  “What about the gate and towers?”

  “We took those just as Argyll and the rest rode through,” the fighter said. “We couldn't get the gate closed in time.”

  “I want the village and the abbey secured as well,” Colin told him. “We're taking everything the traitor has here. What about the other fighters that followed us up the coast last night.”

  “I sent out word,” Emmet said. “They should be here within the hour.”

  Colin had indeed taken precautions on Lord Hugh's advice. A force of his troops had been ordered to follow the coast road from Oban the night before, and to wait within striking range of the village.

  “Too late to catch Argyll,” Colin muttered bitterly. “He'll go straight inland to avoid our men at Oban, but he'll be heading south toward the Lowlands... and that English dog, Danvers.”

  “We have the fourth attacker in the tower room above Argyll's chamber,” Emmet said, with a grim smile. “He became very willing to talk to you, after just a glimpse of the torture room the good earl has set up there.”

  Colin headed for the building with Emmet at his heels.

  “Emmet, I want you to treat the villagers humanely. If possible, we want them on our side when Argyll comes back to reclaim all he's left here. And he will come back.”

  “M'lord,” Emmet said. “When you talk to the folk inside, you'll see they're already on our side.”

  Celia was sitting sideways in a chair in Argyll's chamber when Colin came through the door on his way to the tower room above. After the abbot and the clerk had been removed, Dunbar had wrapped her head in bandages, and she rested her head against the back of the chair. When she heard Colin enter, she opened her eyes and smiled weakly.

  “Did you get him?” she asked.

  “Nay. He got away.” Colin didn't want to burden her with the details of Argyll's escape or of the treason she was already aware of.

  “Why aren't you lying down?” he scolded gently, crouching in front of her.

  “We tried everything,” Alec responded from a bench at the table beside her. “But she'd have nothing to do with lying on Argyll's bed.”

  “I see we'll have to get you back to Kildalton.” Colin smiled, taking hold of her hand.

  “Nothing would suit me better,” Celia replied gratefully, wincing at the pain in her head. “I'm a bit tired of the earl of Argyll's hospitality.”

  “We'll be going as soon as my men arrive to help Emmet hold this castle.”

  “Colin,” she asked. “Have you sent the bodies of the Abbot and his clerk back to the abbey yet?”

  “Not yet,” he answered with a quizzical look. “But they'll be going over shortly. Why?”

  “I want a few leaves of common nightshade from their apothecary, and a bowl of warm water,” she said. “For Alec.”

  “For Alec?” Colin smiled. “Are you sick, Macpherson?”

  “Nay, I'm not sick,” Alec replied in a huff, flushing red.

  “Leave him be, Colin,” she put in tiredly. “It's for his seasickness.”

  “After what you've been through, you're worrying about...”

  Celia silenced him with a gentle look.

  “All right, Celia. If they have any, we'll get some,” Colin said with a laugh. “But I'm not sure I want Alec free of his...character flaws.”

  “And, Colin,” Celia said, glancing at the priest standing beside her. “This is my friend, the ki
ng’s court poet, William Dunbar. He warned me that it might not be healthy for me here.”

  “A warning”—Colin smiled, patting her hand—“that you took seriously, of course.”

  He stood up, towering over the sparely built cleric, and held out his hand as the name of the priest registered with some surprise. Father William is William Dunbar, he thought.

  “Is this the same Lowland poet,“ Colin asked, his fierce glare betrayed by the hint of a smile, “the same William Dunbar who devastated the Highland poet Kennedy in a flyting match before the entire court?”

  The poetic war of insults between Kennedy and Dunbar had become a legend in Scotland. Only a small portion of the series of competitions had been published in a book, printed with the king's approval in 1508, but the Campbells had a copy at Kildalton, and Colin had laughed heartily at the outrageous exchange of barbs.

  “Flyting,” Dunbar said, spreading his hands outward, palms up. “It's just a game of words.”

  “Something Father William has plenty of,” Alec grinned. “Trust me; I've been listening for the last half hour.”

  “Well, we could always use a bit of wit to lighten the air at Kildalton Castle,” Colin said. “I assume you'll be returning with Celia to my home.”

  “Aye,” said the priest. “I will be traveling with the lass.”

  “Then we'll see if we can make you a bit more welcome than you were here,” Colin said graciously.

  “Thank you for that,” Dunbar replied. “Though a leper would've been more welcome in this den of iniquity than a priest.”

  Colin grinned and turned back to Celia, looking down at her. Her gaze locked with his, each lost in the depth of emotions they felt for the other. There was so much that hadn't been said yet, but each knew that the time would come.

  “We'll be going home soon,” Colin said, leaning over her, kissing her forehead, caressing her cheek, feeling the smoothness with the back of his hand.

  Colin turned to see a surprised expression on Alec's face and a shocked one on the priest's as they watched. As he walked past Dunbar, Colin saw the little man cock an ear dramatically toward the small window of the chamber.

  “Well, what do you know?” the priest said wryly. “I just now heard `pirate alerts' sounding up and down the Irish Sea.”

  Colin laughed and with a quick look at the puzzled Celia, gestured for the smiling Alec to follow him out past the two fighters standing guard on the landing.

  “Celia told me who she is,” Alec said as they went up the stone steps.

  “She did?” Colin asked. “How did that come up?”

  “When Dunbar was cleaning her wound, Celia and he started recounting all the various times she'd been cut and bruised,” Alec went on. “Did you know, Colin, she actually used to dress up as a squire and train with the king's warriors? This one time when they were with the king at Falkland, she came this close to—”

  “Alec, stop,” Colin interrupted. “I do not want to know. Not right now, anyway. You know, these bastards were trying to capture her today.”

  “What is this all about, Colin?” Alec asked pensively.

  “Perhaps a little talk with Argyll’s henchman will clear some of that up,” he replied forcefully.

  As Alec and Colin proceeded up the stairwell, the former paused for a moment and faced his friend.

  “Imagine that. John Muir's daughter,” Alec said, a twinkle in his eye. “She's quite a woman, Colin.”

  “Well, you can just forget it, Macpherson,” Colin threatened with a pleased smile on his face.

  “You're serious?” Alec said with some amazement. “Is it possible that Colin Campbell has met his match?”

  Colin looked his friend straight in the eye. “Aye, Alec, I've found my lady.”

  “Damn it.” Alec grinned. “And I was growing so fond of her. She even looks after my welfare. Let me know if she decides to dump you.”

  “Let's go,” Colin said, pushing his friend up the steps. “We've got work to do, and I'm not leaving you alone with her anymore.”

  The confessions of the Argyll man came without any coercion at all. On Danvers's orders Ferret Face, the English agent, had sent men that Argyll had supplied to as many castles in the west as he could. They all had the same directions: to kill the child and capture the lady...alive.

  When the Argyll man had returned from Kildalton, he had heard the earl tell the Englishman, who was operating out of the abbey, that he didn't want the child dead. All they had to do was wait, and they all would come to Argyll on their own.

  This information matched what Colin had already put together, with the exception of why Danvers wanted Celia. Obviously, Ferret Face had recognized Celia and had planned on taking her back to his master. But why? The English were certainly going to extreme lengths to get her.

  When they arrive back at Kildalton, Colin thought, Celia would have to confide the rest in him. It was time.

  The troop of Campbell men from Oban had come supplied for a possible siege of Argyll's castle, so Colin gave orders for beginning the reorganization and improvement of the village, the castle, and the farms in the surrounding area.

  In the early afternoon, when they were ready to make the short walk down to the harbor for the trip to Kildalton, Celia had to fight off the attentions of all three men. She was improving quickly; even the throbbing in her head was beginning to subside. She certainly didn't need to be carried, and she let them know it in no uncertain terms.

  Word had quickly filtered to the people of the Argyll lands, and many had gathered in the village to see the new laird. They all knew what Campbell lordship meant, and many knelt in respect as Colin passed. As Colin and his entourage walked through the village on the way to the ship, Celia could see a marked change in the visages of the people they passed. They were still wearing the rags of Argyll oppression, but they were now also wearing the faces of Campbell optimism.

  Once aboard ship Celia applied her decoction of common nightshade to the back of Alec's ear with a patch that was held in place with a leather thong. When he saw her put the patch in place, Colin laughed.

  “Are you sure it's not supposed to go over his eye?”

  But to Alec's and Colin's amazement, it worked.

  The journey back to Kildalton took forever, as far as Colin was concerned. Alec was unaffected by the motion of the ship, and between his attentions and Dunbar's, Celia had no moment alone for Colin. As he stood at the stern of the ship, he looked at the bandaged beauty, still dressed in the boy's clothing. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of what might have happened had he not spotted the track of dragging feet leading to the tapestry on the landing outside Argyll's chamber.

  He had lost control when he'd burst through the door and seen the Englishman looming over Celia. His years of discipline had gone out the window, and his primal instincts had taken over. This was his woman, and he was going to protect her.

  Now, he just wanted to take her away. To be alone with her. To make her well and keep her safe.

  But he'd clearly have to lock up Alec and this priest Dunbar to do it. And the next time they took Macpherson on a boat, Colin was going to suggest she put that patch over Alec's mouth.

  There was a torch-carrying crowd at the harbor when the ship dropped anchor at Kildalton Castle. From small boats, Hugh and Edmund scrambled up the sides of the ship like men half their age. Hugh's face lit with pride as he embraced Colin, and Edmund went directly to Celia, hugging her gently and nodding at Dunbar.

  The knight stood with his arms around his niece, thinking to himself that he must be getting old and stodgy. Even though he knew what Celia was capable of—indeed, even though he had encouraged her to develop her fighting skills with the fighters of King James's court—he now could hardly bear the thought of her being hurt or even in danger. She was all he had left in the world.

  Hugh and Colin, followed by Alec, walked over to Celia and her uncle. Edmund let go of his niece and turned to Colin, grasping his hand in
a warm clasp.

  “Thank you for bringing her back safely,” he said, looking at the young warrior with an expression of his gratitude.

  Hugh approached Celia with a fatherly smile and wrapped his burly arms around her.

  “Aye, Colin,” Lord Hugh boomed, still keeping one arm firmly around Celia's shoulders. “A successful trip all around. But we need to get up to the castle, so you can give us all the details. We need to send a message to Huntly and the other barons about Argyll's treason.”

  “Aye, Father,” Colin said. “But I want to get Celia into Agnes's care first. You can see that she's taken a bit of a beating.”

  Hugh looked tenderly at Celia's weary face, but noted the clear black eyes flashing in the torchlight. “I do not think she's had more than tough old John Muir's daughter can handle.”

  Celia flashed a look from Colin to Edmund, wondering who had revealed her secret. Colin looked as surprised as she felt. She looked back at Lord Hugh, suddenly embarrassed at her ruse. If the Campbell lord had known all along her real identity, then the Caithness deception had certainly been ineffective. But then again, even John Muir's daughter could have married Lord Caithness.

  “I knew who Edmund's sister had married,” Hugh said, smiling benignly, answering her unspoken question. “We go back a long way, you know, lass.”

  “Did you know my father, m'lord?” Celia asked, recovering.

  “Indeed I did,” Lord Hugh laughed, exchanging amused glances with the men standing around. “But I think we could put that little discussion off until after Agnes sees to your injuries.”

  “Lord Hugh,” Colin said formally, turning to the priest who was standing quietly beside Edmund. “I have the rare honor of introducing a celebrity to you.”

  “Celebrity!” Lord Hugh exploded. He knew of the identity of the newcomer from Edmund. “You cannot mean this poor excuse of a half-pint priest hiding here. Not this slow-witted, Lowland court parasite who takes every opportunity to slander the good names of every Highland clan in Scotland.”