April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 01 (5 page)

Annella crawled out of bed and with Berta’s help, she slipped her gown on over her head. Bidding farewell, she ran down to the barn to start her busy day. She knew that keeping herself busy meant less time to think about the kiss that was haunting her so.

“Good morning to ye, my lady,” Gavin called out.

“Good morning, Gavin. It is a beautiful day isnae?”

“My, ye are chipper this morning. Ye must have slept well.”

“Aye,” Annella responded not wanting to tell Gavin why she could not erase the smile off her face. A good night’s sleep was the last thing she felt.

“Well, I will have ye start in here by counting the barrels and stocks. Report back to me wit the numbers ye come up wit and I will check them wit my own.”

“Verra well.”

Annella thought that a duty like this would keep her distracted but it was no use. Occupied by her bewildering thoughts she had to recount the barrels of grain several times until she was confidently able to reconcile her numbers. Her mind kept wandering to Rory, if he had already left his camp for Stirling.

She thought that taking inventory of the supplies would be a mundane task, but not today. Throughout the entire morning she wanted to bellow out on top of the hills with the elation she felt. With Rory, there was passion and excitement, two things she had never felt before. Her stomach tumbled and her heart fluttered at the anticipation of seeing him again. She prayed that God would ever be so kind.

Knowing she was unable to keep her thoughts at bay, she decided to break when she saw her father walking across the courtyard heading towards the entrance to the great hall. She began to follow him inside.

“Good morning, Father,” she said rather perky.

“Good morning,” her father grumbled

“Can I ask ye a question?”

Her father grunted in reply.

“Do ye really think there will be an attack at Stirling?”

“Aye. I do. Those bastard Sassenachs will be there and Wallace will run them through. What’s bothering ye, lass? Why ask such a question?”

“It’s just so many men are going, and some may no’ return.”

“Some men, or are ye speaking of just one mon?”

Annella looked at her father mortified. Did he know what had happened between her and Rory? She had not told anyone, unless he did.
Oh Dear God.
She felt herself begin to feel nervous and bit her lower lip.

“Now, dinna ye look at me that way like ye dinna ken what I am talking about. I see how he looks at ye and ye at him.”

“I dinna ken what ye are talking about, Father. Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. He is no’ interested in marrying me anyhow.”

“Aye, well if he asks for yer hand, I will accept. He is a good mon and a laird. I have had enough of yer disobedience lass. By this winter ye will be married to a mon of my choosing. Enough of this love nonsense.”

Annella sat there listening and just nodded in agreement. What could she say? The one and only man who she ever considered marrying had left and took with him her heart, but she couldn’t tell her father that, nor Rory.

“Forgive me, my laird, but there are visitors asking for entrance inside the gates,” Logan, one of the guards informed.

“Visitors? I was no’ aware of any visitors coming. Let them in, but search them for weapons.”

“Aye, my laird,” Logan said as he ran out to greet the guests.

“Annella, this conversation is no’ over.”

“Aye, Father.”

Annella and her father quietly waited for the visitors to be escorted into the great hall. Shortly after, Logan and a group of five mammoth-sized men entered through the tall wooden doors and stood before them. The colors of their plaids were unfamiliar to Annella. She noticed that the pleats of their kilts were not folded and wrapped around their waists the proper way. She thought it was odd as Scotsmen should know how to properly wear their kilts. She started to feel a strange tension as the men stood there in silence scanning the room.

“Good day, Laird MacCallum. May we speak in private?” the oldest man of the group asked.

As soon as Annella recognized his lowland accent, she felt her suspicion as the tiny hairs on her arms stood alert. Why would a clan from the lowlands travel this far?

“Whatever ye have to say ye might as well get on wit it,” Hamish replied.

“Verra well. Reports have surfaced that ye have recently been offering assistance to known criminals.”

“And who accuses me of such allegations?”

“Have ye or have ye nay offered assistance to the Scottish rebels?”

Annella looked over at her father in fear. She wanted to speak up and defend her father but as soon as she was about to open her mouth her father shook his head at her.

“Aye, I have, ye filthy traitorous bastards,” he said in a deep gruff voice.

“As ye have admitted to these allegations then according to the laws of King Edward, ye actions are treason and punishable by death.”

The man on the far side of the room drew out his sword from under his plaid and grabbed Logan from behind and slit his throat. Another man reached for his sword and pointed it towards her father’s chest. It had happened so fast Annella froze in panic.

Her father yelled to her, “Run Annella, run.”

“Get her,” the leader hollered and one of his men began to chase after her.

She ran into her room and barred the door. She could hear the man’s footsteps hastily walking down the hallway, slamming each door open in search of her. Annella ran to the window to call for help but as she was about to yell out, she lost her voice when she saw the violent scene below.

Thick black smoke filled the air. The crofts in the village were set ablaze. Dozens of men were fighting in the bailey and the woman and children were scrambling about looking for safety.

Annella jumped when she heard the crashing sound of her door. She turned to look and saw the blade of an axe splitting the door in two. She looked around the room for a place to hide but had nowhere to go. She ran to the table and slid the dagger that Rory had given her into the pockets of her skirt and grabbed her bow. Notching in arrow into place, she aimed it towards the door.

Three men clambered in through the hole of the door they created. Annella released her arrow hitting one man in the shoulder but did not have enough time to notch another arrow by the time the other two men grabbed her. She was hit hard on the back of her head with an object. Blackness came and she dropped to the floor.

Rory woke up from the noise as a few of his men shuffled around the campsite. The sun had just risen and he was feeling famished. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching out his limbs after sleeping on the hard compact earth.

“Ewan, after we break our fast, we will leave. I am expecting to reach Campbell’s borders by nightfall,” Rory called out.

“Aye, my laird. I will have the camp packed up,” Ewan replied.

“Verra good.”

Rory looked up at the dark rolling clouds in the sky.

“Looks like we are going to be hit by a heavy storm, my laird,” Ewan said.

“Aye. All the better the earlier we leave.”

Ewan passed him an oatcake and his sporran full of water. Together they walked over to the spit where the ashes from last night’s fire were still smoldering. After taking his first bite, Rory was interrupted by Angus shouting in the distance. He was riding hard towards them.

“What is that lad fussing about now?” Ewan asked.

“I dinna ken, I can no’ hear him,” Rory answered.

“My laird, my laird,” Angus screamed out.

He rode as fast as he could towards the men in the fields. He jumped down off his horse and ran over to the pit. “My laird.”

“What Angus, Jesu?” Rory loudly cursed.

Angus stood there a moment to catch his breath. “It’s Dunstan, they were attacked. I just came across a young lad who told me that their crofts had been destroyed.”

Rory and Ewan leaped up from the ground and began racingto their horses. The rest of the men followed
closely behind.

Rory’s attention went straight to Annella. Was she harmed? Consumed with fear, he urged Torran to run faster. He knew nothing of the welfare of her people or the condition of the castle. Nor did he know who attacked or when.

Racing through the forest and up the hill, Rory could smell the smoke being carried by the wind. At the top of the hill, tragedy laid out before his eyes. The roofs of the crofts were still burning and the barns had been destroyed. Taking a steady trot down the hill, he saw many villagers covered in ash and soot, weeping and caring for the wounded as the men worked hard trying to put out the flames. Whoever did this knew exactly how to strike and when.

“I need a group of ye to help out here in the village,” Rory called out to his men. “The rest of ye, to the keep.”

Several of them volunteered to help contain the fires. Rory continued his way to the castle with Ewan and Angus. As they rode closer to the gate, Rory stopped when he heard the sound of rope slowly grinding back and forth overhead. He tilted his head up and raised his eyes. At the end of a long noose, Hamish’s dead body dangled from the top of the curtain wall. Rory quickly looked away.

“Cut him down,” he roared.

Annella.
With speed and vigor, Rory dismounted and rushed into the bailey towards the front door of the keep, passing the bloody mess of wounded men and bodies that laid upon the ground. The great hall was full of villagers and servants whom were tending to the wounded inside. Part of the roof had been smashed in and the tables were destroyed.

Spotting Alastair in the corner of the room holding onto a dying man’s hand he called out, “Alastair, what happened here? Where is Lady Annella?”

With tears of anger in his eyes he firmly said, “They took her.”

Rory panicked and felt his blood boiling. “Ye need to tell me, what happened?”

Alastair watched the man he was holding onto close his eyes and drift away.

“Damn those bastards,” he bellowed out and hit the stone wall with his fist. Turning to face Rory, he continued, “The man ye see lying here was my brother.”

“I am sorry, Alastair,” Rory replied.

“Early this morning, my laird, a small band of warriors wearing Scottish colors came asking to speak with Laird MacCallum. They were stopped at the gates and their weapons removed, or so we thought. They were traitors who have pledged to Longshanks. Dozens of English soldiers were hiding along the edge of the forest. Once the traitors were let inside the gates, we were attacked. We ne’er had a chance.”

“Who was the clan that led them?” Rory asked trying to calm his anger.

“Dinna ken. They wore unfamiliar colors. I am thinking that they tried to conceal their identity. We ne’er saw who led them. I was told that he had his men snatch Lady Annella. I may no’ ken who the Scots were but the English mon introduced himself as the Earl of Lancaster.

Ewan walked into the room and turned to Rory. “The Earl of Lancaster? There are rumors that he is Longshank’s nephew. He has been appointed as sheriff and has been raiding across all of Scotland, killing any mon who is rebelling against his king. He is a ruthless mon. Kills even the women and children.”

“Ewan, gather a small group of riders. The rest of the men can meet up with Wallace to tell him what has transpired here.”

Grabbing onto Alastair’s hand, he pledged, “We are going after them and we will bring Lady Annella back.

Chapter 5

The pain in the back of Annella’s head prevented her from being able to fully open her eyes. She felt herself curled up on the cold hard ground. Her body shivered to keep warm. She could hear muffled voices from somewhere outside but could not hear what they were saying. She tried desperately to remember what had happened and why her head was fiercely pounding.

Flashes of fuzzy images came to her mind. Keeping her eyes closed, she frantically tried to concentrate. The last thing she remembered was breaking her fast with her father. She was down in the great hall when…the
traitors
. Her eyes popped wide open.

She began to feel the panic shatter through her. She did not know what had happened to her father. The last thing she recalled was running up the stairs while being chased, leaving him behind to face the four other men who circled around him.

She scanned the dark room and tried to figure out where she was. Her wrists burned and were bound together. The rope was biting into her flesh. After slight investigation, she realized that she must be inside a large canopy tent. She looked around trying to find any means of escape but she only saw the one opening. Her stomach tightened with nausea when she thought back on all that had occurred.

Next to her sat a platter of moldy cheese and bread that appeared to be at least a day or two old. Consumed with so much fear and anxiety, she leaned over and emptied the contents of her stomach. She had never been so scared. She prayed that her father was well, that her people were well.   

Assessing the damage done to her wrists, she assumed that at least two or three days have passed. She struggled to move and sit up but her body was too sore. She had not eaten in days and her muscles felt as if they took a good beating.

“Aw, the bitch is finally awake,” a tall Englishman with black hair said to his comrade as they entered inside the tent.

The other man with dusty blond hair replied, “Yeah and she made a mess of herself.” He gave her a disgusted look. “The Earl will be pleased you are awake, little wench.”   

Annella stared at them like an injured animal and did not say a word. Taking out his sword, the tall man walked towards her. Using the tip of his sword, he cut the strap of her dress so that it no longer hung to her shoulder. Annella tried to scurry away and both men burst into laughter.

“Pitiful thing, aren’t you?”

“What are you doing in my tent?” Yelled a husky man with peppered grey hair.

“The bitch is awake. Russell and I came to check on her,” the tall man said.

“Well as you can see, she is awake and still tied up, now get out so I may have a word with my prisoner,” the husky man replied emphasizing the word
my
. He watched the other two men leave the tent and sat down on a cot located on the other side of the tent.