Page 28 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
“With you, of course, Uncle,” Larry answered deferentially. He went and found himself a leather jerkin and a sword from the keep, then went to address the men. His cousin and he had never been close to each other, but something in the Laird’s tone had warned him that he would tolerate no disloyalty. In fact, he would regard it as cowardice.
War with the McBains was the last thing on earth Laird Ormond wanted, but a show of force was necessary to tell the McBains he was not a man to be trifled with. He stood on the first level of the battlements looking out at the small force of men as they walked and rode away shortly after he had given the order. How would McBain react to them? Would he immediately send out an even bigger force to meet them or would they be allowed to march peacefully into McBain territory without let or hindrance? He hoped they would have lowered their defences, not expecting an attack. All he could do was watch and pray.
Presently, Moira came up to join him and they both watched the cavalcade riding away. “I wish you had not sent Larry,” Moira said anxiously.
“He has to do his duty for his family.” The Laird’s voice was grim. “If anything ever happens to John—and I pray it will not—Larry will be the heir to all this.” He waved his arm to indicate the expanse of rivers, fields and trees. “He will have to have some experience, and I do not just mean experience in balancing the books. He also needs to be able to command troops.”
Moira nodded reluctantly. “Sometimes I wish I had had a daughter instead,” she murmured. She was worried sick as she watched her son disappear into the distance. Her brother had assured her that Larry was very well protected, but a mother never stopped worrying about her child. She sighed, retreated into the castle again and went straight to her private parlour, where she poured herself a large measure of whisky. She hoped it would take the edge off her anxiety.
* * *
Mulrigg Castle stood five miles away from Balmuir, and it took the troops around two hours to get there on foot, so it was late afternoon by the time they were within sight of the estate. It had taken a little longer since they had to find a dead tree to make a makeshift bridge over the Braeburn. The Laird had also sent as many cavalrymen as he could spare on massive mounts to intimidate the defenders of Mulrigg. It was hoped that this strategy, along with the element of surprise, would give them an advantage. However, they were prepared for a savage engagement if necessary.
Larry was uncomfortable in his position as head of the small army, although Laird Ormond had sent the older and more experienced Captain of the Guard, Gordon Menzies, to ride alongside him. The older man was there to give him moral support and advice, and to calm his nerves as they neared the fortress of Mulrigg. He also had the necessary military knowledge to compensate for Larry’s relative lack of experience. The nephew of the Laird was there merely to show McBain that the Ormonds meant business.
Along the way, they had not seen any riders dressed in Mulrigg livery, and Larry could not believe that there were no patrols anywhere. Clearly, the McBains had let their guard down, not expecting any trouble.
“Why have we not seen any McBain men?” Larry asked Menzies. He could not help feeling that there was something they were missing.
“They are no’ expectin’ us,” the captain answered. “But dinnae think ye can relax, Master Ormond. Ye must never take anythin’ for granted.”
Presently, they came in sight of the castle. Mulrigg had no moat but was defended by towering walls topped by crenellations where archers stood by the dozen waiting for any foe who dared approach the castle with bad intentions. Instead of a portcullis, there was a massive wooden door crisscrossed with thick iron bars that ended in vicious sharp points. Where the walls of the castle met the earth huge metal spikes protruded, each one three feet high and set in uneven rows at different heights. Larry had never seen such strange defences before, but no one in his party would dare argue with them!
As they advanced, coming to within a hundred yards or so of the castle walls, they could tell the moment that the Mulrigg defenders became aware of them. Some of the guards came running out of the castle, swords at the ready, but because of the fact that the Ormonds had surprised them, their number was relatively few, perhaps only a dozen or so. A few skirmishes broke out, but the defenders were overwhelmed almost at once.
However, that all changed when scores of others began to emerge, each one armed to the teeth with swords and bows, and a fierce battle broke out. As well as the foot soldiers, there were archers standing up on the turrets, but they were impotent, not being able to fire for fear of hitting their own men.
However, the McBain foot soldiers could not hope to be victorious against scores of infantry and horsemen. A few McBain cavalrymen who were on patrol outside the castle were alerted to the fighting around the castle but were too few in number to deal with the scores of enemy riders.
The garrison at Mulrigg consisted of eighty men, far fewer than the hundred that Laird Ormond had sent, as well as sixty cavalrymen. However, most of them were inside and not kitted out for battle. Therefore, a lot of time was wasted while the horses were saddled and the riders were armoured. General panic ensued as the staff were all commandeered into helping them.
However, when the cavalrymen were finally ready and moved out of the stable and into the courtyard, they found that the enemy was already there.
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“Where is Laird Malcolm McBain?” Larry roared, brandishing his great broadsword and glaring at everyone around him. Before, he had been afraid, but now that he and his men had cut a swathe through the McBain guard, even though they had made it very easy for them, he felt triumphant, invincible, and able to take on the world. “Let him bring out my cousins, Ramsay and John Ormond, or there will be hell to pay!”
An extremely large, muscular man with a bushy black beard and fierce, overhanging brows, riding an equally big black stallion came up to them. There was an air of belligerence about him—indeed, even his horse looked as though it would enjoy a fight. He stared at the soldiers in front of them. If he was afraid, there was no sign of it.
“I am Captain of the Guard, Angus McGowan,” he announced, in a deep harsh voice. “Who might you be?”
“Larry Ormond Jamieson, nephew of Laird Broderick Ormond of Balmuir,” Larry answered. “I am here to speak to Laird McBain, and I want to speak to him very quickly!” He urged his horse forwards a few steps, and watched the other man’s mount take a hesitant step backwards.
McGowan tried to look him up and down contemptuously, but now there was a hint of fear in his eyes, even though he tilted his chin up defiantly to try to hide it. “Tell your men tae stand down first.”
Instead of complying, Larry gestured to his mounted men who spread out on either side of him and faced the McBains nose to nose. “I will tell them as soon as I see the Laird’s face.” Larry retorted, his voice as harsh as stone. “My uncle would have come himself but he is unable to, so I stand in his stead and I am authorised to speak for him. Hurry and bring me the Laird and my cousins. I have better things to do than waste time with you. And I am warning you, there are more men on their way as we speak, so tell him he is running out of time.”
McGowan looked at Larry for a long moment, trying to intimidate him by staring him down, but Larry did not back down. Instead, he yelled, “Now!” at the same time as he urged his horse forward.
“I will bring him.” Suddenly the big man did not appear so fierce as he dismounted then scurried away, all his bravado gone.
“Find him and tell him to bring my cousins with him!” Larry barked. He could not wait to clap eyes on Laird McBain again. He was the cause of his mother’s pain and bitterness, and consequently his own.
* * *
When the Captain of the Guard met Laird McBain he had run so fast along the corridors in the castle that he was completely out of breath. He almost collapsed into his study when the Laird summoned him and stood, bent over with his hands on his knees for a moment trying to recover.
Laird Malcolm stood up concerned, and moved around the desk to help him. “Calm down, Angus. Get your breath back then you can talk to me.” He poured a small glass of water and made the other man drink it before asking, “What is the matter?”
