His Lady of Castlemora(20)

'This is indeed a sad day, my lady. I speak for Glengarron when I say that your father will be sorely missed.'

She found her voice. 'I thank you, my lord.'

'Glengarron will always stand ready to support Castlemora. In the  meantime you will let me know if there is any service I might perform.'

She thought that the greatest service he could perform for her now would  be to acknowledge their betrothal, but that wasn't going to happen yet.  What if it never happened? The thought of losing him filled her with  momentary panic. She fought it, telling herself that all might yet be  well. She must cling to that hope; it was all she had now.

* * *

Ban knew he was going to have to speak with Hugh after the funeral. It  was just possible that the younger man knew about the betrothal but if  not he would have to be told. Since it was not Ban's secret alone he  must first consult Isabelle on the matter, and that would have to wait  until the morrow.                       
       
           



       

He glanced from her to the new laird at her side. Hugh was pale but in  control, no doubt trying to come to terms with the situation in which he  found himself. Just a pace away from him was Murdo. The tall, dark-clad  figure reminded Ban of nothing so much as a great carrion bird. Behind  Murdo, at a suitably respectful distance, were ranged his men. Apart  from the belt knives all men wore they were unarmed on this occasion, no  doubt at his instruction. Nevertheless, their collective presence was  not so much reassuring as disquieting.

* * *

However, Hugh was impressively self-possessed, then and later,  overseeing all the formalities until the last of the mourners had  departed. Isabelle regarded her brother with pride. Young he might be  but his manner and bearing suggested that he took his new role most  seriously and that gave her real hope for the future. Seated in their  father's chair now, he did not look out of place.

Now that the ramifications were beginning to sink in she realised that,  some time soon, he would have to be told about her betrothal. It was  going to be a tricky conversation but now that he was laird it couldn't  be avoided. She glanced at Ban. They needed to talk but with so many of  Murdo's men present it wasn't the time or the place. Moreover, now that  the day was wearing on, she could think about leaving the men to  continue their drinking alone. The wake would likely continue through  the night.

By now she would have expected the effect of ale and mead consumption to  be making itself apparent in the men's speech and behaviour, but,  oddly, none of them gave any sign of being drunk. The conversation was  unusually muted too, yet underneath it the atmosphere seemed tense,  almost as though they were waiting for something. Perhaps they were  waiting for her to leave so that the carousing could start in earnest.  She looked at Hugh. However, just then he was engaged in conversation  with the master-at-arms. The two walked apart a little way, heads  together, Murdo's hand resting lightly on his companion's shoulder.

Suddenly Hugh's eyes widened in an expression of shocked disbelief, his  breath caught on a choking gasp. Isabelle frowned. Then Murdo stepped  back and she saw the dagger plunged deep in her brother's side. For  several moments Hugh hung on its point before his knees buckled and he  slumped to the floor as a dark stain spread across his tunic. Isabelle  screamed.

'No!'

She flew across the room, falling to her knees beside Hugh, frantically  trying to discover some sign of life. He didn't move, his eyes staring  up at her unseeing as blood pooled on the floor. As the realisation hit  her Isabelle screamed again, a long keening howl of horror and despair.

Ban leapt to his feet and lunged at Murdo. 'You treacherous bastard!'

Before he could reach his target he was seized from behind. In spite of  furious resistance he was swiftly overpowered and the edge of a blade  held against his throat. He regarded Murdo with contempt.

'Why do you hesitate?' he demanded. 'You've murdered one man in cold blood. One more can make no difference to you.'

'I'm tempted, believe me, but it may serve me better to leave you alive,  for now.' Murdo looked at his men. 'Take him to the small storeroom and  lock him in. His men too. I'll deal with them later.'

White-faced, Isabelle looked on helplessly as Ban was dragged from the room. Then she turned to Murdo.

'Murderer! Traitor!'

He regarded her impassively for a moment, then spoke to her captor. 'Take her to the bower and post a guard on the door.'

Strong hands seized hold of her and hauled her to her feet. Isabelle  shrieked and fought but to no avail. Seconds later she was lifted bodily  off the floor and carried from the room.

* * *

Ban's captors dragged him to the cellar and shoved him in, locking the  door behind him. It was iron-bound oak. The walls and floor were of  stone, the only light source a small, barred window. Anger burned hot  and for a while he paced, trying to take in the enormity of what had  happened. Just then he had no fear for himself. All concern was reserved  for Isabelle. With her brother slain her situation was perilous indeed.  It needed no seer to tell him what Murdo intended.

He was distracted from these thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Then  the door opened again and his three companions were thrust into the  room. Judging from their dishevelled appearance and Ewan's cut lip they  hadn't come quietly. Jock eyed Ban speculatively.                       
       
           



       

'Are you all right, my lord?'

'Aye, well enough,' he replied, 'but Lord Hugh is dead.'

'Dead? How?'

They listened in dumbfounded silence as Ban supplied the details. Jock swore softly.

'So that bastard Murdo is in charge now.'

Ban nodded. 'He'll claim Castlemora for himself, and the Lady Isabelle with it.'

'And we can do naught to prevent it. God's blood!'

Davy looked at Ban. 'Will Murdo have us killed, my lord?'

'If he intended that he'd have done it by now,' said Ban. 'I doubt he'd  be so stupid. If he slays us he draws the wrath of Glengarron down on  his head.'

'Aye,' said Jock, 'and even Murdo would hesitate to cross Black Iain.'

'No one in his right mind would do that,' agreed Davy, 'and yon  shaven-headed villain is no one's fool.' He paused. 'So what is he  planning to do with us?'

Ban shook his head. 'I expect we'll find out soon enough.'

* * *

Isabelle sat alone, too stunned even to cry. She had no idea how long it  was until the door opened to admit Nell, whose sombre expression  revealed that she knew some of what had passed. It did not take long to  relate the rest. The old nurse heard her in shocked disbelief.

'Shall a usurper murder the rightful laird and steal his land and title?' she asked then.

'He has done it,' replied Isabelle. 'Nothing can stop him now.'

'What of Lord Ban and the men from Glengarron?'

'Locked up. Besides, what could four do against forty?' It had been her  dread that Ban might attempt something rash in that way. Murdo already  disliked him and, given sufficient reason, might well change his mind  about keeping him alive.

'Even so,' Nell continued, 'you are not without friends. Murdo and his  henchmen are hated by the old servants, and by the local people.'

'He will kill anyone who is caught helping me.'

Before Nell could reply the door opened again and a familiar figure  appeared on the threshold. Isabelle rose, dry-throated, darting a look  at Nell. Murdo followed it, fixing the nurse with a level gaze.

'Leave us.'

The tone was quiet, but neither woman was deceived by its apparent  mildness. Reluctantly Nell withdrew, closing the door behind her. With  pounding heart Isabelle faced her visitor.

'What do you want, Murdo?'

'We need to talk.'

'I have nothing to say to you. Do you think I wish to speak to my brother's killer?'

'I regret the deed,' he replied, 'but Hugh was in my way.'

'You regret nothing! You killed him in cold blood.'

'The end justifies the means.'

'Nothing justifies what you have done.'

'Castlemora justifies it,' he replied. 'I have served it well these many years.'

'This deed cancels all that went before, Murdo.'

'No, Isabelle. This deed ratifies all the rest.'

'You won't get away with it.'

'And who will call me to account?' he asked.

Sick at heart she closed her eyes a moment for she knew the answer only too well. As if he read her mind Murdo nodded.

'I am Laird of Castlemora now.'

'You are a usurper, nothing more. You have no claim to the title.'

'I beg to differ. I not only claim it but will back my claim with force if need be.'

Isabelle fought to control rising terror as she recognised the truth of his words and the ramifications began to sink in.

'I am the Laird of Castlemora,' he continued, 'and you will be its lady.'

'I will never agree to that.'

'I'd prefer to have your consent but it isn't indispensable to me.'

Her hands clenched. 'How dare you?'

'There's much I'd dare to have you. I thought at one time that you were  lost but then fate delivered you back to me. I only wonder that the  Neils could be such fools.' He paused. 'Of course, there is still the  matter of your dowry. I mean to settle the matter with them-in due  course.'