Page 90 of Sins of a Scot
What a great escape this will be if we cannae even get out o’ this damned dungeon.
The sound of footsteps echoed once more through the corridor, but it took a few seconds for Owen to realize they were getting more and more distant. Taking a huge chance, he jerked hishead around the corner. Upon seeing the back of the guard, he wasted no time in using the sound of the man’s heavy footfall to cover his own, and hurriedly sped across the small gap separating himself from the others. Iseabail looked both relieved and delighted, but this was no time to celebrate. They had to keep moving.
Further down that corridor, they discovered the secret door to a tunnel, and once more, Owen led the way. Long shadows flickered against the walls as his fiery torched licked at the lint that kept it alight. They reached the end of the tunnel with a choice of going left or right. Owen led them to the right and continued down another tunnel. He took several more junctions, reaching the end of yet another tunnel.
But as he went to venture forth, his mind went completely blank. Was it left or right?
“What’s the matter?” Iseabail hissed behind him.
“I cannae remember which way we’re supposed tae go.”
“Left.”
“Right.”
Both father and son verbalized their directions at the exact same time.
“Right,” Iseabail said firmly.
Owen looked from one to the other. He had tried to remember all the instructions so far, but so eager to escape had he been that he had let his concentration lapse for just a minute.
He looked intently at Iseabail. “Are ye sure?”
“Aye,” she nodded firmly.
“All right.”
Owen ventured to the right and prayed that the trust he had in the woman he loved would pay off. He supposed, they would find out soon enough.
There were no more turns as they continued, and eventually, they reached another small door. Pressing his ear against it, he could hear distant voices and the clattering of pots. They were exactly where they needed to be. Right beside the kitchen.
Turning back to the others, Owen said, “This will be the most difficult part. We’ve got tae get through the kitchen unseen and reach the outer door. Follow me and stay close tae the walls.”
After they had nodded in acknowledgement, Owen slid the torch into a nearby metal bracket, not unlike the one it had originally been placed in on the wall of the dungeon, and then slowly opened the door. Once in the corridor, he pressed himself against the wall as he had instructed the others to do. Cackles of laughter danced across the air, and he could only assume thatsound came from the cooks and maids who were likely preparing supper.
Given it was in the lower part of the castle, large support pillars across the kitchen separated them from the main area. While they were in the shadows at the far side, the hustle and bustle of the well-lit main space had maids and cooks hurrying about. Great big pots emanating billowing steam sat on large fires, vegetables of many varieties were being chopped, and some of the surfaces were covered in flour; balls of dough at the side, ready and waiting to be baked
This truly was a blessing. If the people in the kitchen were busily concentrating on their tasks, their eyes would be less likely to wander over to the less used side of the kitchen.
Even with the odds in their favor, Owen still moved slowly. He didn’t want any sudden movement in the shadows catching anybody’s eye. As lightly as he could, given his size, he moved gently, step by step, his back pressed against the wall. Glancing behind him, he watched the other three follow suit, and continuing on, they slowly made their way across the room.
The rear door came into view less than a minute later. Coming to a stop again, Owen assessed the situation. Unlike the wall they had been pressed against, the door was in full view of all the workers, and he wondered, as he gazed about him, how they were going to get to it and through it without being noticed.
He was still trying to figure that out when a young child came running into the kitchen. He ran towards one of the olderwomen, clearly a cook, and when the woman bent down and stroked his hair, it became evident that she was likely his mother. After receiving a biscuit, the child ran about the place, and to Owen’s dismay, he made a turn and seemed to be heading in their direction.
“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath.
But it was too late to go back, for the child drew close, and upon seeing Owen’s feet, he bent his head all the way back to look up at the giant of a man that he was.
Owen smiled and pressed his fingers against his lips. “We’re playing a game,” he whispered. “Ye cannae tell anyone.”
The boy gawked up at him for a moment longer, and then suddenly, he turned on his heels and headed straight for his mother.
“Ma. Ma. There’s a bad man,” the boy cried.
Glaring at the others, Owen growled, “Run!”
No longer caring about a stealthy escape, Owen launched towards the door. He had managed to open it at the same time he heard the cook screaming for help.
