The Thistle and the Rose(36)
“It's no business of yours,” the raspy voice answered, separating himself from the group that was now moving toward the door. He was a large, burly, porcine man with a cropped head and a pox-scarred face.
Emmet gestured with one hand toward the door, and a dozen of his men quickly cut off the group's path to the exit. Emmet had made sure that several groups of his fighters had been sitting at strategic positions throughout the hall. If push came to shove, they could take control of the room in moments.
“I'm making it my business,” he said, his eyes surveying the potential opponents in the room. With the exception of the group in front of him, all the other Argyll men in the hall were still sitting and watching with some unconcerned amusement. It looked like they couldn't care less about what the outcome might be.
“He's needed at the abbey,” the leader of Argyll's soldiers spat out. His specific orders were to take the priest before he reached the Campbell men. The nosy rat has been spying all along, he thought. It was too bad that they hadn't discovered this until today. They could have put a sword in his back and avoided this confrontation.
“Aren't there enough priests at the abbey?” Emmet responded.
In spite of the early hour, this man has exhausted his wit for the day, Celia thought, watching the leader search for some answer to the question.
“I want to see this priest,” Emmet said, striding into the group.
The group parted almost involuntarily, and Emmet came face-to-face with a wiry little priest, whose hands were being held by two soldiers. The fierce spark in the cleric’s eyes was defiant and unbridled. He was dressed as a priest, but Emmet judged that the energy radiating from the small frame was that of a fighter.
As Emmet looked at the men holding him, he recognized one of them immediately.“I never thought I'd see you again,” Emmet began grimly, looking fiercely into the face of the man he had followed after the attack on their guests and his brother.
“I dunno know what you are talking about,” the man said. “I never seen you in my life.”
“Well, I'm happy to tell you that there is not much left of that life,” the warrior responded threateningly. “And when we're through with you, you're going to wish you were as dead as the three friends you left at Kildalton.”
As the man backed away from Emmet, the tall warrior reached in and grabbed the priest by his cloak, pulling him from the circle of soldiers before they could react.
Dunbar and Emmet were backing toward Celia and the other Campbell men now. From the corner of her eye, she saw a servant slip out through a door at the rear of the hall. This could turn into a fatal trap for all of us, Celia thought. Eyeing the doorway through which Colin and Alec had gone, she knew the time would be short to warn them.
Celia backed quickly across the room, ignored by Argyll's people, who were now watching the confrontation with keen interest. She could hear Emmet's voice responding to the pox-faced leader's harsh shouts as she ducked into the stairwell that led up to Argyll's chambers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Emmet saw Celia slip around the table and head across the room. Guessing her intention, he immediately motioned one of his fighters after her. Colin didn't want her left unattended for even a moment.
Dunbar, as well, saw Celia disappear through the doorway leading to Argyll's tower chambers. She doesn't know how dangerous it is for her here, he thought, as he bolted after her.
The hammering on the door jolted the three lairds, but only the Abbot and his clerk leapt from the table where they all sat. Argyll gestured, and the clerk opened the door.
“F-Father William,” the young cleric stammered before being pushed aside by the wiry Dunbar. Colin's fighter followed him through the door with his sword drawn.
“Where's Celia?” Dunbar shouted at the lairds. His eyes scanned the plush, wood-paneled chamber. Celia was nowhere in sight.
Colin and Alec bolted from their benches. It took only one look at the priest's face for Colin to know something was very wrong.
“What makes you think she would be here?” Colin replied, his heart skipping beats. He looked at his fighter for some explanation.
“What's the meaning of this intrusion?” Argyll bellowed before Colin's man had a chance to explain.
“What have you done with her?” the priest snapped at the earl, drawing a short sword from beneath his robe.
“Nay, William,” shouted the abbot, backing away from the table.
This is Father William, Colin thought in a flash, and Celia is in danger.
“She was in the hall,” Colin shouted, pushing past the priest.
“We followed her up here, m'lord, and there was no other door for her to go into,” Colin's fighter exclaimed, running out onto the landing after Colin. Dunbar and Alec followed on their heels.
Colin could see that a door closed off the stairs leading to the top of the tower, and that it was barred on the inside. He yanked the bar from the door, and Alec pulled it open.
“I'll check the tower,” Alec said, his sword in hand, disappearing up the dark steps with the fighter behind him.
At that moment Emmet charged up to the landing, and Colin turned to face him.
“Did Celia come back down?” Colin shouted at his man, a hint of fear in his voice.
“Nobody's come down, m'lord,” Emmet returned. “She came up after you!”
Colin's eyes swept around the landing, fearing what he couldn't see. Alec returned from the upper portion of the tower, shaking his head.
Oh, my God, Colin thought wildly. They've got her.
Chapter 10
The word is going around the camp that we have allies to the north. They say it is a powerful chieftain. I don’t know. I only know that these wild hills loom up around us, and hellish weather breaks over us out of nowhere.
If we have friends to the north, it is only because they do not know us. And what kind of people can they be?
The winding stone stairwell was dark.
Entering from the hall, Celia's eyes took a moment to adjust in the dimness, but she vaulted the steps without pausing. If Argyll's servant raised the alarm with his fighters, they could be cut off in the hall, and Celia knew that Colin should know that. Who knew what Argyll would do if he were given the opportunity, especially considering the fact that one of the men who attacked Kit and Ellen had been discovered in his own hall.
The stairwell had a musty, damp, dead smell that made Celia think that this tower must be older than the one where she and Colin had slept. Something is not right, she thought as she reached the landing. Why wouldn't Argyll put his chambers in the newer tower? What was special about this one?
The small landing leading from the stairwell was dark, with a torch on a wall near the door ahead. There were large, ugly, matching tapestries hanging on the walls to either side of Celia as she started for the door.
The blow from the butt of the sword came from behind, and she never saw it coming.
Celia staggered, dazed from the shock, and the man's arm encircled her neck, dragging her roughly toward the wall.
Struggling to clear the brilliant fog in her head, Celia felt the tapestry being swept aside and brushing her face as she was pulled behind it. Vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening, Celia found herself dumped in a pile on a dusty wood floor.
The room was spinning, but Celia forced herself up and at the figure who was quickly trying to bar the door. She lurched into her assailant and spun off, landing hard against the stone wall a few feet away, causing him to drop the bar and turn fiercely toward her. The ferret-faced man whom she'd seen in the hall grabbed her by the throat with an iron grip, pinning her to the wall, ripping her hat from her head.
“If it weren't for the fact that Lord Danvers is quite anxious for his bride, Lady Muir,” the rough voice hissed into her ear, his English accent distinct and unpleasant. “I'd cut your pretty throat right here.”
In a horrifying moment Celia realized where she'd seen this animal. And she knew he was Danvers's man.
Ferret Face jerked her roughly away from the wall and back again, slamming her head against the stone. The bright flashes of light in Celia's head blinded her for a few seconds, searing pain shooting through her brain.
“But you'll do as I say, you slut,” he whispered fiercely in her ear. “Because when Lord Danvers is done using you...you'll be mine!”
The man's disgusting closeness was suffocating Celia. Turning her roughly, he dragged her across the small room, his viselike hand still squeezing her windpipe closed. Celia was aware of her knees buckling as she tried to get her legs under her.
If only she had reached Colin. He doesn't even know that Argyll is harboring the enemy here. Are there more of them? she thought. Hiding in the darkened corners? Waiting? She thought desperately of Colin, only next door, the people down in the Great Hall, and Dunbar. How long would it take them to realize that she was missing? She knew they would never leave without her. And Colin would turn this place inside out and find her. She just had to hold up.
Ferret Face's grip loosened slightly as they reached the far wall, and air rushed into Celia's lungs. Then the sound of a wooden panel being opened wrought in her the horrifying realization that Argyll had stayed in this old tower because it had its own secret passageway.
Fear swept over her with the certainty that if this animal got her through this opening, Colin would never find her. This would be the end.