On a Highland Shore (32 page)

“Well?” he asked.

She did not answer at once, turning instead to look across the room, envisioning it full of her family and music, remembering far too much. She sank to a bench and leaned against the wall behind her. “Oh, Rignor.”

He looked at her, then poured another measure in the stone cup, surprising her when he pushed it toward her. “Drink. It helps the memories fade.”

She did, passing the cup back to him. “I don’t think they will ever fade.”

He poured himself another cup and drained it. “What is it ye want? Have ye come to tell me ye’ve reconsidered yer marriage?”

“No. I married him, Rignor.”

“I ken that. I was there. I ken what happened. Ye married him, then announced ye’d have it annulled. Ye broke yer promise.”

She nodded, noting the tension in his shoulders and the tight grip he had on the cup. “I was hurt. Humiliated.”

“Despite yer promise to me ye willna reconsider?”

“I married him, Rignor. That’s what I promised; that’s what I did.”

His smile was caustic. “Ye were always good with words, Margaret.” At her silence he laughed again, an ugly sound. “What if the bishop refuses to annul yer marriage?”

“We’d not be the first to live apart.” She took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “And I’m sorry about Dagmar.”

He shrugged, but she could see the anger in his eyes.

“Rignor,” she cried. “Let us not do this! Come back to me. Be my brother again, not this stranger ye’ve become!”

There was a flash—of longing, of loneliness—in his eyes that made her heart leap. He looked away suddenly, as if realizing that. And the flash was so quickly gone, his face once again a mask of indifference, that she wondered if she’d imagined the moment. He held his cup high. “A toast,” he said flatly.

“I have no cup.”

“We’ll share.”

He tilted the bottle over the cup, then handed it to her. It held only the dregs. Appropriate, she thought, and raised it to her lips.

“To Somerstrath’s survival,” he said. “And to retribution.”

She repeated his words, hearing them echo eerily from the stones. Rignor laughed again, a hollow sound, and rose to his feet.

“Safe journey, sister. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

“But, Rignor…” She stopped when she heard his boots on the stairs.

She took a moment to look through the keep one more time, memorizing it. She might never come here again, for, whatever happened in the future, their relationship had been altered for all time. The man who had looked at her had been as a stranger, as though someone had spirited Rignor away and left another mind in his body. She shivered, remembering all the stories she’d heard of such things as a child. She had never believed them; now she did.

He was gone when she reached the courtyard, but she did not ask after him, only bid farewell to the men working there and returned to her pony, to find that the packs of food had already been taken. She stared into the distance for a moment, then straightened and climbed atop the pony’s back, lifting the reins.

“Lady Margaret.” It was the man who had offered her water. “I’ll see ye safely onto the trail.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and let him lead her through the village. She would not try with Rignor again, would not attempt to cajole him from his anger. Those days were over. At the edge of the trees, far from the houses, Rufus’s man stopped.

He leaned close, his voice low. “There is something ye need to ken.”

“Aye?” she asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more.

“We had a visitor earlier. A man who said he was a runner coming from the Sinclairs. But we’re thinking he wasna what he said.”

“Why?”

“We’re not sure even why we think that, but there was something about the man…he dinna look like the other runners. Dinna sound like them.” He shrugged. “But it wasna so much what he did…as what Rignor did. He talked with yer brother for a long time, Lady Margaret, and when he left Rignor was much cheered, but it was a strange kind of cheer, if ye ken what I mean, like…well, like he’d just made a deal with the devil himself. We followed the man for a while, but he went north, and we stopped following him then. Did he stop at Inverstrath?”

“No.”

“It’s probably nothing.” He glanced around them. “Being here…it makes the mind see things that may not exist.” He straightened. “I’ll see ye home, Lady Margaret.”

“Thank ye, but there’s no need. I canna get lost.”

“The fog’s coming in.”

“Halfway, then,” she said. “It’s shorter if we walk on the shore.”

He nodded, and she set off, suddenly glad of his company as she began her ride home. Home, she thought, which is now Inverstrath. How strange life was.

Margaret wrapped her arms around herself more tightly. It was not cold, but the damp was chilling her. Rufus’s man walked in front of her with the pony, his steps sure and quiet. The fog hung above them, occasionally swirling down to engulf them, then dissipating as they walked on. To her right the waves met the shore in muted rhythms. They had talked little on their journey, for which she was grateful. Her thoughts of Rignor and Gannon kept her busy, but she put them from her mind as they climbed the third headland. Four more to go before Inverstrath. She paused at the top. This was halfway to Inverstrath.

“Ye can leave me here,” she said softly. “I’m safe enough now.”

“I’ll see ye safely home, Lady Margaret.”

“My brother will miss ye. He’ll not be pleased.”

“Surely he’ll not mind me keeping his sister safe, aye?”

Margaret smiled, no longer sure of the answer to that. “One more headland, then. Ye dinna need to come with me the whole way.”

He looked weary, and she suspected he’d be glad to find his bed.

“One more headland then,” he said.

She led the way, picking her path carefully, stepping onto the sand with relief, man and pony behind her. The fog swirled, then thinned, letting her see the waves to her right. The tide was receding, leaving her the packed sand on which to walk. She moved swiftly now, knowing the fog could thicken again any moment. Then stopped as a shape loomed above her in the mist.

A dragon’s head.

She could not breathe, but stared up at the creature, trying not to scream. The head was black, its eyes gold, dull in the fog, and its tongue, hanging out from between its teeth, a vibrant red.

The dragon’s head was not alone. Behind it she could see three more, their eyes staring inland and waiting, their mouths open and smiles cruel and shocking. They were attached to prows, of course, of long dark ships, pulled high on the sand. And ahead of her now, suddenly audible, were the sounds of men moving and talking quietly, the clink of metal on metal, an occasional laugh. She could even see the faintest of outlines of a fire around which they moved.

She stepped backward, moving as slowly as she could, not breathing, willing her heart to slow and not pound as it did now, and the fog to thicken and hide her. She took another step back, then another, then collided with a wide male chest. Arms reached to enclose her, a hand clapped over her mouth to stifle her gasp.

He did not believe she would defy him, but when Gannon looked for Margaret, she was nowhere to be found. He knew at once where she’d gone. He’d sought her out to apologize and offer to take her to Somerstrath, to explain that he’d only been worried about her safety. But she was already gone. She’d told no one, not even Nell, had simply taken a pony and left with the food she’d had prepared. The fog that had hovered all day was thicker now, the air damp and cloying. Damn the woman. One lass, armed only with her wits and that ridiculous short sword she thought was a weapon, out in a world that held men like Nor Thorkelson. What was she thinking?

He could not sail in this fog, but he left at once, taking one of the Highland ponies that the Scots all seemed to think were so fit. His legs all but dragged on the ground, but the pony seemed not to notice, setting off at a brisk pace. He knew Tiernan would be displeased that he’d not been told, but Gannon wanted no other company in this journey. He needed to talk with Margaret alone, wanted time alone with her to sort out their argument. He should not have acted the way he had. Nor should she, but that no longer mattered. Having her with him was all that mattered.

He did not know the inland path at all; it would be foolish to wander through the forest in the fog. But if he kept the water to his left he could not get lost, and so he walked the pony along the shore. The fog was lifting here, and he made good time across the first headland and along the bay beyond it, before it thickened again, muting some sounds and making others louder.

He was a fool. She was probably safely at Somerstrath, sitting in front of a fire with her brother. They’d probably healed the rift between them, and neither would welcome his interruption. He should leave her and Rignor alone, let them try to sort it out without him. He’d go to the second headland, then turn back.

But when he reached the second headland, he kept going.

T
he man holding Margaret bent to whisper in her ear. “It’s me, Lady Margaret,” Rufus’s man said. “Dinna scream.”

He pulled her slowly back with him, taking his hand from her mouth, then releasing her waist. With a hand over the pony’s nose, he backed all three of them into the forest, slipping between the trees until their footfalls were muted by the pine needles underfoot. They ran along the pathway until they were out of breath.

“Did ye see them? The dragonships?” she asked. “Did ye see them?”

His eyes were wide with fear. “It’s them, isn’t it? They’ve come back again.”

“Aye. We have to warn everyone. Ye need to go back and tell Rignor.”

“And leave ye here? I canna do that, lassie.”

“I’ll go to Inverstrath. Ye have to warn Rignor. We dinna ken which way they’re going.”

“Why would they go to Somerstrath? They’ve taken everything.”

“For the land itself. Perhaps they want it for settlement. Ye must warn Rignor. D’ye not see? We must both go—ye to warn my brother and I to Inverstrath! Every moment counts.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I canna let ye go alone. Ye’ll have to pass them, miss. Surely they’ll have sentries out. I dinna ken how we got so close without seeing any, or the sentries seeing us, but ye can be assured they have them. Ye’ll have to come back with me. It’s closer.”

“No, I have to get back to Inverstrath! We’re halfway there. Please, please go and warn my brother!”

He stared at her, clearly wavering.

“We have to hurry! If the fog lifts…there’s no telling when they’ll leave.”

“I canna leave ye to just walk past them.”

“I willna go on the beach. I’ll stay on the inland path. I’ve got the pony. It will find the way. Go, now, please!! Be careful. May God be with ye.”

“And ye, miss.”

She watched to be sure he did go back to Somerstrath, then hurried on herself. The trees were thicker here than she’d remembered, the path narrower, but she could see well enough and was glad with every step that she put between her and the dragonships. The path would turn soon toward the sea, and leave her on the headland that overlooked Inverstrath. She would be there soon, would soon be able to warn the others. Gannon would know what to do. She kicked the pony into a trot, glad of the carpet of pine needles muffling the sound of hooves on stone.
Dear God, let me be in time
. Surely they would not attack in the fog; surely she would have time to warn Nell and the others. There would be time for everyone to flee inland to safety.

But what if the Norsemen were going to Somerstrath instead? Rignor had only a handful of men. He could not hold off three ships full of Norsemen intent on taking the land. Could it happen again?

She burst from the trees, feeling rock beneath the pony’s feet, and knew she was at the headland at last.
Almost there.
She slipped from the pony’s back and led it across the stones, toward the sea, and toward the path that would take her to Inverstrath. She’d not gone ten feet when she saw him, a tall man on a Highland pony, walking away from her, toward the north. Toward the Norsemen. As she recognized him, she breathed a prayer of thanks.

“Gannon!” she cried, hurrying toward him. “Oh, thank God! Gannon!”

He stared at her for a moment, slipped off the pony, and rushed to her, clasping her in his arms. “Margaret, lass, are ye a’right?” His face clouded with anger. “What were ye thinking to go by yerself?”

“Listen!” she said breathlessly. “I was on my way back…they’re here, Gannon! Norsemen! On the beach. They’ve come with dragonships, three ships at least! We must tell everyone!”

“Ye’re sure, lass? It’s Norsemen?”

“Aye! The ships have painted dragon’s head prows, and thank God for the fog or they would have seen me as soon as we came over the headland. I could hear them, but I couldna see them and I dinna go any farther. There might have been more ships behind them that I couldna see.” She clutched at his arm. “We’ve not a moment to lose! Come, we must warn everyone!”

He held her tight against him for an instant, then lifted her chin and kissed her, deeply, pressing her closer, his mouth searching hers as though he’d been a lost man. He released her at last and reached for the pony’s reins. “Margaret, lassie, I couldna bear it if aught happened to ye. Thank God ye’re safe, at least for now.”

“For now. Dear God, Gannon, I canna believe it’s real, that they’re here.”

He nodded grimly. “It’s real a’right. Let’s get ye away from here.”

The smell of fear filled the hall when Rufus gathered his people. The night was half over, the fog still deep as they were summoned from their homes. They huddled together, casting terrified glances at each other, some of the women and children sobbing. Margaret sat with Nell, waiting for the people to join them. She knew what Rufus had decided, had heard him and Gannon discuss Gannon’s plan. But would Rufus’s people agree?

Rufus turned to Gannon while he waited for them to settle, his tone furious. “Could they attack when we had hundreds of men here? No. They waited until William Ross left and took all his men, and Rory O’Neill did the same, and I’ve sent thirty of my men off with Rignor. Look at them,” Rufus said, gesturing to his people, “a handful of men strong enough to fight and women and children who will be easy targets!”

“My men are here as well,” Gannon said.

“It’ll take all of us,” one of Rufus’s men said.

“Ye can count on us,” Gannon said.

Rufus gave Gannon a long look. “I’ll not lie to ye. I wasna pleased with ye, choosing Margaret instead of my lass, even though I understood it, what with her and Tiernan and all. But I think I’ll forgive ye now.”

Gannon snorted. “God love ye.”

Rufus grew serious. “Let’s hope He does. It’ll be a hell of a battle.”

Rufus’s captain stared. “Ye’re not thinking of fighting, sir?”

“Ye think we should run?” Rufus asked him.

The captain’s face reddened. “Ye think we should stay and fight three hundred men with what we have here? And there could be more than three hundred; she only saw three ships. We could have a thousand Vikings about to descend on us. A prudent man runs to fight another day, sir. Let the king come and rid us of these monsters.”

Rufus watched him without expression. “Ye’ll take the women and children with ye and go inland, then. I want only my bravest men here with me.”

“Ye’re not serious, sir? Ye’re going to fight them?”

“I am. I’ll not have it said I ran from them.” He turned to the people, raising his arms for silence.

“Silence!” Rufus shouted, and the hall fell quiet. “We have not much time. Ye need to listen and listen well. We all ken the news, that Margaret’s seen the dragonships between us and Somerstrath and that they might be coming here in the next few hours. We thought Haakon’s fleet had bypassed us, but apparently not. I’m not running. I’m going to stay right here, in my home, and fight. We’ll be ready when the fog lifts. Let’s give the Norsemen a taste of Scottish hospitality.”

The deep roar of approval that met his words surprised Margaret with its intensity. She and Nell exchanged a look.

Rufus grinned. “I thank ye for that. Those of ye who want to leave, may. Those of ye who are willing to stay are most welcome. But ken this. If any man leaves, thinking that he’ll keep his land after we win, think again. If ye leave, ye forfeit yer land. If we win, I’ll give it to another. If we lose, ye’ll have lost it anyway.”

The second roar of approval was quieter, but still strong.

“I’ve been talking with Gannon and he has a plan,” Rufus said. “I think it’s a good one, so listen. Ye’ll all have tasks.”

Gannon stepped forward. “We have surprise on our side. They’ll not be expecting us to ken they’re coming, nor that we ken what they’ll do. They’ll come into the harbor under sail, or rowing, depending on the wind. I’m going to move my ship out of the harbor, to the next bay.”

“Just like an Irishman,” one of Rufus’s men shouted, but his tone was light.

“She has my name on her,” Gannon said with a grin. “Ye don’ think I’d risk a ship named
Gannon’s Lady
? How many horses and ponies do we have? How many men can ride? How many archers are here?”

They listened closely while he outlined his plan, then asked a few questions, most of them about minor details of tasks. No one argued, no one disparaged his ideas. When he had finished, the people were nodding and saying it just might work, and asking for assignments, as though it were an everyday occurrence to face Norsemen at dawn.

Rufus stepped forward again. “It’s time for the women and bairns to go. Take yerselves inland across the loch, to the mountains. I’ll send men to row ye across the loch so ye dinna have so far to walk. As ye go, spread the word of what’s happening to the crofters along the way. Send any man willing to fight to me; we’ll need every one of ’em. And send runners east and south to find the king. God speed ye on yer way.”

He waited while many of the women rose, bundling their children to them. Many more stayed where they were. A few of the men rose as well, their faces crimson.

“I’m just helping her as far as the forest,” one said, his words met with relieved laughter. Others were silent and shamefaced as they left.

“Go with them,” Margaret told Nell. “I’m staying.”

Nell’s expression was horrified. “I’m not leaving without ye!”

“I need to ken ye’ll be safe,” Margaret said. “And when it’s over, go find Rignor and tell him what happened.”

“I’ll not leave without ye, Margaret.” Nell folded her arms across her chest, but her eyes were fearful as she watched those saying their farewells.

“Ye must go, Nell. At least one of us has to live to find Davey.”

“Rignor can find Davey. Or Uncle William. I’ll stay with ye and help as well. Either we both go or we both stay.”

“Nell.” Margaret lowered her voice. “Ye saw what they did at Somerstrath.”

Nell’s eyes filled with tears. “Aye, and I’m afraid of that, but I’m more afraid of living if ye’ve all died. Dinna ask me to stay safe and watch from the hills. I willna do it. I’ll stay. I couldna bear to live kenning I’d fled like a coward.”

“Ye wouldna be a coward.”

“I would. In my heart, I would always think myself a coward, and that’s a form of death I’d rather not have. These are my people, too, Margaret, and I’ll stay with them. If I die, it will be fighting and not hiding.”

“Nell…”

“Ye canna protect me, Margaret. It’s time to let me be an equal.”

Margaret looked at her sister for a long moment, then nodded.

Margaret and Nell joined the women, melting all the tallow they could find, keeping it warm for later. Dagmar, who had also refused to leave, was organizing her staff, tearing sheets into strips and dipping them into the hot tallow. She gave orders without emotion, moving with an efficiency Margaret would not have thought possible. Rufus’s men would use the arms he’d provided, ones not used in years, and were preparing themselves now, men strapping swords to youthful waists and leather breastplates around thickened chests. The inland crofters had arrived as well, leading their ponies, armed with pikes and arrows and whatever else they thought would help. Men were hurrying to man the walls. And down in the stable yard Gannon was explaining to his men what they needed to do.

He stopped talking in midsentence when he saw her, striding across the stones to tower over her, his expression fierce. “Margaret, ye shouldna be here. There’s still time, lass. Go.”

“Look around us, Gannon. Most of the women are staying. What would ye have me do, wait in the forest while ye battle them, not kenning what was happening to ye? These are my people. Ye are here. I’ll stay.”

“Please, lass…” He stopped.

“Gannon, look at ye, risking yer own life for me and mine. Can ye not understand that I need to do the same? How could I live with myself if anything happened to ye, and I was sitting in safety while ye fought my enemies?” She thought of her family’s broken bodies. “No one has more claim on hatred than I. And, Gannon, I will be with ye. Whatever this day brings, we’ll face it together. Dinna deny me this.”

He was silent for a moment, then leaned to kiss her, heedless of who saw. “God help us all.”

When everything that could be done was done, she stood with the others just outside the open gates of the fortress, looking out into the harbor. The fog was slowly lifting; already she could see the edge of the water.
Gannon’s Lady
was gone, as were most of Rufus’s ships and boats, a handful scattered on the beach to fool the Norsemen, sacrifices to the element of surprise. The harbor appeared quiet and unmanned, which had been their goal. Soon the sun would rise…and they would come.

“Margaret.”

She turned with a slight smile when he came to her side; she’d known he would find her, or she him, before it all began. She could see the chain mail beneath his tunic, the golden bands on his arms tight around his muscles, his hair bound back and his expression calm.

“We’ll be closing the gates soon,” he said, his tone hushed. “It’s not too late. Ye can still go, lass.”

She shook her head.

“Please. I’ll have no peace of mind if ye’re in here.”

“And I am to have peace of mind kenning that ye’ll be outside these gates?”

“I’m trained to do this. Ye’re not.”

“No one is trained for this, Gannon.”

“Ye’re wrong. I’ve only just been realizing that the whole of my life has been leading up to this. I’ve been training for this every day that I drew breath.”

“And I as well,” she said softly. “I was born to face dragons.”

He gave her a puzzled look, but she did not explain.

“Will ye leave, Margaret? Please, will ye go?”

“I canna leave, any more than ye can. Better that I die here, fighting, than to live with the knowledge that my efforts might have made the difference and I’d not offered them.”

“Ye ken what will happen if we fail?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Are ye not frightened?”

“Of course I am. What fool wouldna be? Are ye?”

He grinned then. “Aye, of course I am. What fool wouldna be?”