Page 55 of Bride of the Mad Laird
It took only seconds before they succumbed to the well-trained and determined warriors. One of the gallowglasses swung his axe, giving a blood-curdling cry as he did so, raising his weapon aloft, ready to bring it down with the full force of his brute strength. But his yell caught in his throat as Tòrr’s guard pierced his heart with his mighty claymore.
The second of the men was equally foolhardy, but despite his great size, his blows were too slow for the speed of the guards and he was cut down before he could land a blow. The remaining two flung themselves onto their knees, begging for mercy.
Tòrr held up his hand to restrain his men. “Hold, lads. I wish tae interrogate these two.”
One of them was holding up a letter. “’Tis our orders,” he cried out. “We have nay malice toward ye. Spare us.”
Tòrr gave a bitter laugh. It was clear these men had no loyalty to MacDougall. If they’d been men of Clan MacDougall and not paid mercenaries, they’d have fought to the death for their laird.
“Take them down, I’ll attend tae them later.” He reached for the parchment the man was clutching. “Before ye take them, strip them of their kilts. They’ve nay right tae our plaid. They dishonor it by wrapping it around themselves in an effort tae trick us and dae us harm.”
With that, the guards stripped the men naked before dragging them down the stairs where they would languish in the dungeon beneath the castle until Tòrr found a suitable time to visit them.
The shouting and general ruckus had brought Bayard and two more of his men at a run.
He proffered a grim smile and a bow from his waist. “I see ye dinnae need me now, me laird.”
Tòrr nodded. “Thank ye lad fer yer prompt warning, and for these stalwart guards of yers.” Tòrr turned to the two bloodied forms lying near the door. “I trust ye will dispose of these two, before the chambermaids are shocked out of their wits by the sight.”
Bayard raised his hand in salute. “Thank ye, me laird.” He shoved one of the bodies with his foot. “These two will be feeding the fish before ye’ve so much as broken yer fast.”
As the men disbursed with Edmund and Bayard, Tòrr knocked tentatively on the door of his chamber. She may not have heard everything, yet she would have been aware of the clash of swords, the death screams, the sound of men’s raised voices.
“Is that ye, Tòrr?”
“Aye lass. ‘Tis me. ‘Tis safe fer ye tae open the door.”
The fire was alite in the grate and he followed Lyra across to stand by its warmth.
She turned to him and in the light from the fire her eyes glittered green and gold. She smiled. “MacDougall’s men?”
He nodded. There was no point in attempting to hide the truth from her. If nothing else, tonight’s events proved to be a cautionary tale. Lyra could now see the danger she would be in if she left the castle.
The boldness and audacity of the attempt to capture her was breathtaking. He had no doubt the gallowglasses were daring adversaries. If not for the guard’s zeal in uncovering the ruse, they could well have succeeded in abducting Lyra from under their noses.
She shook her head as he related the outline of what had occurred and the way MacDougall’s men had succeeded in entering the castle.
“Surely taenight’s incursion will sway the Council’s opinion against me remaining here. Will they nae wish tae rid themselves the lass who is the cause of this testing of the peace that has existed between the MacKinnons and Laird Alexander?”
Tòrr shook his head. “This is a matter of a different color, lass. MacDougall has showed his hand. Sending his men into our castle, disguised in our plaid, is an act of war. The Council will view it as such. While me faither maintained a friendship with Alexander, since his death things have been fraught between us. He supports the English, while we are pledged to the true Scottish king, Robert the Bruce. We were already on opposite sides before any of this occurred.”
“And what of yer allies?”
“The MacNeils, the MacLeods and the MacKinnons of Pabay are wi’ us, although their numbers may nae be as great as MacDougall’s.”
“And ye can rely on them?”
“Aye. The MacNeils are strong, their laird is married to me half-sister, Davina and…”
Before he could go on, he heard a loud gasp from Lyra.
“Davina… in the Priory I kent a lass by that name… she was me dearest friend…”
“Of course.” Tòrr smacked himself on the forehead. “Ye’d have been together at the Priory.”
“Can it be that me Davina is yer sister? I kent little of her past and didnae make a connection.”
As he nodded, tears sprang into Lyra’s eyes. Smiling, she wiped them away. “Happy tears.” She clutched his arm, her smile lighting her face like a ray of sunshine shining through a cloudy sky. “This is truly wondrous. Why did I nae ken this before?”
