The Price of Freedom (6 page)

Bryan Dubh killed without mercy. What mercy could she hope for from a man such as him? She struggled to breathe, disappointment fogging her brain. This was not the champion she had prayed for! She had to think of some way to defend her home or they would all be dead before nightfall.

Fergus turned to Kathryn, “Ye should yield to him. I've heard it goes well for those who don't resist him. But he's the devil himself when opposed.”

Kathryn braved another look. Even at a distance, she could see the size of the man. Those of his men who were mounted rode small, Scottish garrons. The menacing knight was mounted on a large, well-bred steed of considerable proportions.

The voice boomed once more. “Gatekeeper, fetch the earl at once!”

Frightened but determined, she took a deep breath and said, “He's but a man, Fergus. A very fearsome man, no doubt, but a man nonetheless.” She smiled, and said a short, fervent prayer that her show of bravado made her appear more confident than she felt.

“Lord Carleton will be here any minute, Kathryn. Yield to the knight.” His deepening scowl gave proof of his opinion of Rodney.

Gentling her voice, she said, “I understand your feelings for Sir Rodney, Fergus. I don't much care for him either. But allowing this warrior inside our gates might bring us all to death. We've both heard the horrible tales of his brutality.”

The thought of Rodney caused her headache to return. The very real possibility of marriage awaited unless she yielded to the knight on the causeway. The knight whose legend had grown until he'd become the subject of the very lullaby she'd sung to Isobel not two weeks ago.

Isobel. Could she trust Rodney's avowal that he'd changed?

She would delay until her course became clear. “Tell Sir Bryan who holds Homelea.”

Fergus reluctantly complied. “Sir Bryan, the earl was buried this morning. This stronghold is held by his daughter for her king, Edward of England.”

The knight stood in his stirrups. “My condolences on the lady's loss. However, you should remind her that her home lies in Scotland, and Robert the Bruce is king of Scots and all who do dwell here.”

Where was Rodney? Surely he'd heard the commotion by now. She said to Fergus, “Go see what is keeping Lord Carleton.”

“I say we are in more danger from Lord Carleton than we'd be from the Black Knight.”

“Enough. You overstep your place. Now do as I ask.”

She'd never spoken with such authority before and Fergus looked suitably stunned. Kathryn watched him pivot on his heel and stalk away. Perhaps she would grow into the role of countess yet. She just hoped it wouldn't cost her Fergus's friendship. Though she was sorry to have been so curt, she had to believe that Rodney was a better choice than Bryan Dubh. Had he not killed every man, woman, and child at Roxborough when they resisted him? Heaven help her if she was wrong.

Black Bryan spoke again. “I grow weary of shouting.” He paused to steady his restless horse. “Tell your lady she must yield to me. No one will be harmed, I give my word.”

Kathryn's mind raced. According to the stories, Black Bryan had successfully captured several heavily fortified castles. How could they hope to hold him off with Homelea's modest defenses?

Finding no answer to her question she decided to speak with the man. She took a deep breath and willed her body to stop shaking, but still her voice quavered. “Sir Bryan, I am Countess Kathryn de Lindsay, and I hold my home for my liege laird, Edward. I am quite prepared to withstand a lengthy siege if you care to waste your time on such an endeavor.”

The manor had been built during the peace and prosperity of Alexander III's reign. Just now Kathryn wished her father had built it for defense instead of comfort. She imagined Black Bryan laughing at her audacity—he must know how pitifully inadequate Homelea's walls would be against a protracted siege.

Still, she couldn't just give in. She might well be forced to yield, but not without a show of resistance. She couldn't allow his reputation alone to win the battle.

She had prayed for rescue—a champion to protect her home and person. As much as she didn't want her guardian to be Rodney, she was certain it couldn't be Black Bryan.

Could it?

THREE

K
ATHRYN REDIRECTED HER ATTENTION to the knight. Sir Bryan rode to the end of the causeway to converse with his men then returned to face the curtain wall.

“Lady Kathryn, you leave me no choice. Yield willingly and all will be spared. Otherwise I will order my men to attack.”

Kathryn watched the equestrian warrior as she waited for Fergus to return with Rodney. Mackintosh's horse pawed the earth, mirroring Kathryn's restlessness. No more demands were shouted at her and a growing anxiety enveloped her as she paced the small space.

Fergus returned, grim faced. “My lady, Sir Rodney is on his way. He was . . . talking to one of the kitchen maids.”

She stared back at him a moment, surely as grim-faced as her friend. Here was proof that Rodney hadn't changed as much as he wanted her to believe. How could she even consider him as a husband? Once she'd thought her love would change him, but she held little hope of that now.

Fergus said, “Kathryn, there is more you should know. The knight has nearly one hundred men surrounding the walls.” With each castle that fell to the Black Knight, Bruce's army grew stronger. Bruce now controlled all but a few scattered pockets of resistance and the great castle at Stirling.

There were fewer than thirty men within Homelea. She had no doubt that the knight and his men could overpower her forces. To command them to defend Homelea would condemn many of them to death. They would die for naught, because in the end Black Bryan, with his superior numbers, would win.

At the sound of footsteps, Kathryn turned from the window and saw Rodney enter the small room. Fergus left, relieving Kathryn of the fear the two would come to blows. Rodney, his clothing disheveled as if he'd dressed hurriedly, went to the narrow window. He shouted to the mounted warrior, “This is Lord Rodney Carleton. Be gone, Mackintosh!” He turned to face her. “Go to your quarters, Kathryn. I'll deal with this nuisance.”

Kathryn held her ground. “I remind you I am the Countess of Homelea and you are my guest. Do not order me about.”

“You are my betrothed. Do as I say!”

“I haven't agreed to a betrothal—”

“You have no say in the matter. You and Homelea are mine, as of this day.” With a withering glance, he dismissed her and turned back to shout at the warrior, “Leave now or face the might of the king of England.”

Frustration welled up in Kathryn. How dare he treat her so, as if she had nothing worth saying about the future of her home and her people! Was this what marriage to him would mean—total submission to a tyrant? She knew the answer well enough— Rodney had shown his true character only too clearly two years ago. And contrary to his charming words this morning, he hadn't changed at all.

Tears threatened, for if she were ever to marry she wanted it to be to a man who cherished her. If she must face the prospect of dying in childbirth as her mother had, she wanted to at least be valued for the sacrifice.

Furthermore, her husband must live by God's Word. She knew enough of Rodney to know that God was of little or no importance to him. Yet she must yield to someone. Take Rodney as husband, or give herself and her home to Scotland's king and hope for better? Rodney or Black Bryan? England or Scotland?

A clamor outside caught her attention and she looked toward the window. She heard the knight say, “Carleton, I warn you, do not order those archers to fire on me. Now let me speak to the countess.” Impatience sounded in the knight's bellow.

Rodney must have sent her archers to man the walls.

“The countess has no authority to bargain. Deal with me or be gone.”

In that moment, Kathryn knew she could not allow Rodney to decide her fate or that of her daughter. If Rodney ever learned of Isobel's existence he would use the girl to exert his will over Kathryn. God must have sent the Black Knight for a reason, a reason she couldn't know. She must yield to him and trust in God. Although she would be at the mercy of Scotland's king, at least, as Fergus had said, he could not force her to marry Rodney. Bruce might be an unknown, but she certainly knew Rodney only too well.

That thought incited Kathryn to action. She shoved past Rodney, ducking under his outstretched arm and cried out, “I yield to Robert the Bruce!”

“How dare you defy me!” Rodney grabbed her by the hair and she screamed in terror. He clapped his hand hard across her mouth and her tongue tasted the coppery tang of blood. As he shoved her aside, Kathryn's head banged against the stone wall and she lay dazed upon the cold floor. She was dimly aware of someone's boots rushing past her.

When she regained her senses, she heard a grunt of pain. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she saw Fergus draw back his fist. Blood dripped from Rodney's nose—Fergus had already landed at least one punch.

Fearing more for Fergus than Rodney, she shouted, “Fergus, no! Stop.” The thud of flesh on flesh answered her as the men tumbled to the floor, flailing at each other.

Kathryn struggled to her knees while the room filled with clamoring voices and jostling bodies. Evidently someone had sent for her steward, Peter, because he and several men at arms crowded the small room, pulling the adversaries apart.

Peter rushed to her side and asked, “My lady, what happened?” He looked at Fergus. “What have you done?”

Fergus ignored his question and stared with unmasked hatred at Rodney Carleton.

Kathryn rose shakily to her feet with Peter's help. “Do not rebuke Fergus, Peter. He came to my aid.” Again. Thankfully he was uninjured this time, save for a bruise on the cheekbone below his bad eye and a bloody lip to match her own.

Rodney stepped forward, wiping his bloodied nose with a cloth. “I'll have the knave whipped. He interrupted a private matter between Lady Kathryn and myself. A matter we still must resolve. Take the boy to the bailey and hold him,” he ordered.

No one moved except Fergus who crossed his arms across his chest.

Rodney glared at Peter. “Steward, take him and leave the lady and me in private. All of you.”

“I will not; she is bleeding.” Peter dabbed the blood from her face.

She pushed at his hand. “'Tis little, Peter. Stop fussing at me.” To Fergus and the men at arms she said, “Escort Lord Carleton to the bailey. And see that he comes to no further harm,” she warned Fergus. She glared at Rodney. “I will deal with you after I settle with Sir Bryan.”

“Kathryn, I warn you!” Rodney growled. “Edward will not allow this treachery to go unpunished.”

Kathryn watched impassively as the men at arms restrained Rodney. Strengthened by the growing hope that perhaps Sir Bryan was indeed the rescuer she'd prayed for, Kathryn said, “You will leave Homelea within the hour, Rodney. If Sir Bryan permits it.” She paid no heed to Rodney's continued protests as he was forced down the stairs.

Fergus, arms still crossed, said, “I'm staying with ye.”

Peter gently touched her arm. “I regret I am not a younger man. I'd have joined Fergus in thrashing that brute. Let Fergus stay with ye.”

She nodded and Peter left her with Fergus.

“What are ye going to do?” he asked.

She shuddered. “I cannot marry Rodney. He is cruel and unrepentant. I . . . I have yielded Homelea to the Black Knight. That is why Rodney struck me.”

Fergus remained silent for a moment. “So, ye believe it will go better for ye with Scotland's king?”

She raised her face to heaven. “I don't know,” she whispered. “I only know marriage to Rodney is out of the question. I will not allow him to bully me, and I certainly won't give him Homelea. I must cast my lot with Bruce and pray he will treat us fairly.”

“Can't be any worse than Lord Carleton.”

They peered out the window slit at Bruce's warrior.

He bellowed once more. “Do you yield or not? If so, raise the portcullis. Now.”

She shrank back and fear clutched Kathryn at the thought of what she was about to do. Had she simply traded one bully for another? Kathryn searched Fergus's face. “Am I doing the right thing?”

He nodded his agreement.

She made an attempt to put her hair to rights, then walked to the window and called out, “You will not harm my people?”

“I give you my word, lady. No one is to be harmed unless they take up weapons against me or my men.”

“And my home? You won't destroy it?”

“The castle belongs to my liege laird. To do with as he sees fit.”

She hesitated, frightened for Homelea's future. Bruce razed castles to the ground so they couldn't be held against him again. But this wasn't just a castle, it was a home. Surely he would spare her home. The people who depended on her would be safe as long as they didn't defend Homelea, and she would be safe from Rodney Carleton, God willing.

She nodded to Fergus, and he signaled the man at the gate. The portcullis chains groaned and clanked as the timbered gate slowly raised, placing Kathryn's future in the hands of Robert the Bruce.

And at the mercy of Bryan Dubh.

THE SOUND OF A WOMAN'S SCREAM had unnerved Bryan. “By the heavens, what treachery passes in there?” Bryan Mackintosh muttered as he stared at his latest conquest. Wary of a trap, Bryan remained mounted, instructing the men who would enter the bailey with him to be vigilant. Only those with chain mail would accompany him until he was sure the woman meant to yield.

His master at arms reined his mount to a stop beside Bryan. “They've withdrawn their archers from the walls. Looks as if they truly mean to yield.”

“Aye, so it does.”

“If the place is so poorly defended, why do you fear resistance?” his squire, Thomas, asked.