Page 103 of The Scottish Bride
“Masks, my lass,” Liam said. “Guisers. We go in as a group calling for cakes and ale. They will not notice the forfeited laird of Dalrinnie.”
Gilchrist shrugged. “It could work. And we have no better plan.”
“Ready by morning, then,” Lindsay suggested. “It is a long ride to Dalrinnie. We will bring as many men as we can, leaving the rest to guard the camp. I can promise ten men or so. But it is not much against a garrison.”
“It is a good number for guisers. We only need to get in and get Agatha just now,” Liam said. “Though I would like a wee chat with Sir Malise. The rest of the dispute can wait until Bruce’s men arrive. Henry brought him the news that Dalrinnie may be ripe for the taking. I intend to weaken Malise’s hold—when Bruce is ready, the castle will fall more easily.”
“We can gather some disguises—sheepskin blankets, soot, leaves and branches, great cloaks and such will help,” Gilchrist said.
“I will go with you,” Tamsin said.
“You will not,” Liam said. “Stay with Kirsty and the rest. Stay safe.”
She stared at him, her gaze silvery gray, somber, worried—verging on anger. He returned her unwavering gaze.
“I will go with you,” she said, standing, sweeping away from the firelit circle.
*
Later, Liam retiredto the cocoon of blankets and sheepskins that he and Tamsin had shared in the forest clearing before. She lay there, awake, and when he murmured good night, she gave him a long, cool gaze, then turned her back without a word.
In the morning, he saddled his horse, then turned to saddle hers in silence. She accepted his assistance to mount and settled herself, still quiet. As they rode, he could not endure the silence any longer.
“I know you are furious with me,” he murmured. “But I have to do this.”
“I am not furious,” she said. “I am afraid.”
In the gloaming,the fading light spread long, soft blue beams through the forest surrounding Dalrinnie Castle. Everywhere Tamsin looked seemed edged with an almost mystical light—bare and lacy trees, steep slopes and deep scrub and bushes, soaring castle walls; a dozen men donning sheepskins and cloaks, rubbing soot on their faces, adding branches and leaves, even tying on antlers in eerie silence; while horses quietly grazed, tied far enough away so as not to be seen or heard from the castle walls.
Standing under the cover of the trees, Tamsin watched Liam and the others prepare. She was glad to see Sir Finley and Sir Iain with them now; they had returned to the forest just that morning, back from riding with Henry, able and willing to join Liam and the others in this mad venture. She had not seen Henry, who had gone on to Selkirk Castle by another route, taking no further risk of being seen consorting with men who frequented the forest.
She overheard Finley and Iain reporting that Bruce was gathering men to advance eastward, with an eye toward Dalrinnie and other castles. Liam replied, just then, that if battle came about he would gladly take part, and that one of themshould ride to find Bruce once they were done with Samhain and had Agatha safe. Fear drove through her, hearing that, and she had walked away trembling.
Though she was glad that Liam and the rest had gathered more men, their number was still small. She continued to feel an awful sense of dread for the outcome and the risk to their lives. But she had no vision of this—no clear sense of what might happen. No warning to share beyond deep concern.
Gazing at the castle gates now, standing at the bottom of the forested slope, she thought of the day she had left Dalrinnie. Liam had found her in almost the same spot.
From here, she could see torches beginning to glow like golden stars in the village beyond the castle. Samhain had begun, and men and boys, women and girls too, were preparing for the celebration of All Souls’ Eve. Soon they would come out of their houses to bother the demons and spirits and chase them away with fire, bells, shouts and songs, frightening disguises, and merry threats. Householders could demand songs or jests in return for a bannock, an oatcake, or a bit of dried fruit. Harmless enough.
Angling as she looked up at the castle, now she noticed the cage situated high on the parapet. Its iron bars were shaped like a macabre lantern. Inside, she saw a silhouette moving now and then. From her vantage point, it seemed that the cage sat on a corner of the wallwalk. Its top and bars were just visible in the crenel gap between two merlons.
When they had all entered this part of the forest not long ago, Tamsin and the others had cautiously approached to peer up at the castle walls. Seeing the cage that trapped Agatha inside, Gilchrist and Gideon had turned pale and walked away. Liam had uttered a hateful oath, and whacked his sword viciously against a tree.
“At least they did not suspend it outside the walls,” he had said, and stomped off.
When he returned with a cooler head, Tamsin helped him don a sheepskin blanket for a cloak over chain mail. A tall, leafy hat over his chain mail coif gave him a giant’s stature, for he was no small man to start. Finally, the soot he rubbed on his cheeks made his Nordic-blue eyes eerie as the moonlight rising above.
“Still angry with me, love?” he asked.
“Still afraid,” she replied. He caressed her cheek.
“Tamsin,” he murmured. “If you ever trust me, the time is now.”
“I trust you with my heart and my whole soul. Will that do?”
“Aye then,” he said, and kissed her brow. Then he turned away to join the others as they murmured plans in the gathering dusk.
“When the villagers arrive,” she heard Liam say, “the guards should let them in by tradition. We will chance it happening tonight. You lads wander in with them through the gate and I will go another way.”
