The horsemen made straight for it and then she discerned a huge wooden gate, studded and banded with iron and seeming to lead straight into the hillside. Someone called a cheery greeting which was returned and the gate swung open to reveal a narrow defile between sheer walls of rock. Wide enough to take two horsemen abreast, it wound upwards to another gate. This too swung open and they emerged into a large walled courtyard with various buildings along its sides, all overshadowed by a great tower of wood and stone. Iain glanced at his wife.
‘Welcome to Dark Mount, lass.’
Ashlynn said nothing, being temporarily incapable of speech and fighting to control a rising sense of dread. Iain dismounted. Seeing there was nothing else to be done, Ashlynn slid reluctantly from Steorra’s saddle. Standing there among the throng of horses and men she felt suddenly very small, and the feeling of isolation and vulnerability increased. Then she became aware that Iain was watching her. Not for a bag of gold would she have displayed the fear that gripped her now and so she lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable.
‘Come.’
He guided her towards a great iron-clamped door. The space beyond was subdivided and, as her eyes adjusted to the relative dimness she had an impression of storerooms and pantries. The smell of food suggested the presence of kitchens. They bore left towards a stout oaken staircase. It led up to the great hall. Glancing round apprehensively she had an impression of a large, stonewalled chamber with high and narrow windows. However, most of the light came from the wall brackets and the candles set on huge circular iron chandeliers. Greasy trestle tables, littered with the stale remains of a meal, ran along three sides of the room. Its wooden floor was begrimed with mud and strewn with old straw whose musty smell mingled with ancient food odours and burning tallow. Shields and weapons adorned the walls along with huge and dusty racks of antlers. Wolf and fox masks snarled from among thick cobwebs. One wall was dominated by a great stone hearth where several big logs blazed, the sole source of comfort in the place.
As Ashlynn surveyed the scene cold dread settled like a lump in her stomach. Was this gloomy lair to be her home from now on? It hardly deserved to be dignified with the word home. Prison seemed more accurate somehow. Unwilling to contemplate it longer she turned away towards the fire.
Though she had spoken no word her expression was more eloquent and Iain frowned. As a stronghold Dark Mount had served him well but, he admitted, it could not pretend to cosiness or comfort. It had lacked a ruling female presence for too long. His mother was the last woman to leave her stamp upon the place, a stamp that time and absence had almost obliterated. He shot a sideways glance at Ashlynn. Her courage was not in doubt, but whether she had the skills to follow in his mother’s footsteps remained to be seen. The memory brought back others far more bitter, memories better left buried. To banish them he summoned a servant and rattled off a string of orders. The man hurried off and presently several others could be seen scurrying about. One brought food and hot possets. Others hastened to the stairs carrying brooms and logs and other items less obvious to the casual glance.
‘The servants will prepare a chamber, lass. In the meantime come and take some food.’
She followed him to the table and sat in the chair he indicated though in truth nerves had driven her appetite away. Unwilling to let him see it she forced herself to eat some bread and a little salted beef and then drank the posset. Its fragrant spicy warmth put some heart into her. Iain leaned back in his chair, surveying her shrewdly, sensing the tension and the fear beneath that outward calm. The thought recurred that most women in her situation would have gone to pieces by now. The lass had courage all right.
* * *
A little later the servant returned to say that the room was prepared. She saw her husband rise and hold out a hand to her. For a second she hesitated but common sense decreed there was no other choice than to go with him. Reluctantly she accompanied him to the stairs. There proved to be another two floors above the hall, variously divided into living quarters. On the topmost of these he stopped before a stout wooden door and, pushing it open, stood aside for her to pass. Beyond it was a moderate-sized room. Its stone walls were stark and free of ornament but the bare floor was clean enough. The sole furnishings were a small table and two chairs and, on the far side, a bed strewn with furs. A fire burned in the hearth but, being only recently lit, had not yet taken the chill off the air or dispelled the faint odour of mustiness and damp. On the table an oil lamp was burning for the window was shuttered fast against the cold. Ashlynn shivered inwardly.