“M’laird, I would be pleased tae discuss this with ye in private,” he said. “Do ye truly wish for yer men tae hear of yer private affairs? Will ye no’ invite guests into yer home?”
Alastor ended up standing close to the portcullis, looking at the young earl in the torchlight.
“You have brought a Scots army into England,” he said, lowering his voice. “That does not speak of a friendly visit to me, nor does it speak of a negotiation. You brought men to force me into making a decision. You brought your army to intimidate me. You are not guests; I did not invite you. Let us come to the point of this, MacDuff – you have come here to force me to answer Canmore’s missives.”
MacDuff moved towards him, motioning for the men standing near him to stay back. He went to meet Alastor at the portcullis, an iron grate and hundreds of years of hostilities between them.
“I have,” he said honestly. “But I was hoping we might speak civilly before we came tae business. I dinna come tae bully ye intae responding, m’laird. I came tae see if we could come tae an agreement.”
Alastor still wasn’t convinced even though MacDuff’s delivery had been polite for the most part. He found himself looking beyond MacDuff, at the dozens of dark silhouettes behind him.
“How many men did you bring?” he asked.
Macduff studied him a moment before answering. “Enough,” he said. “We’ve been traveling for three very long days and require shelter. Will ye no’ let us in?”
Alastor lifted his eyebrows as if it were a foolish request. “I will not,” he said flatly. “Scots and English confined within these walls is an invitation for disaster, so I will not let you in. If you truly wish to stay, then your men must set up camp outside of the walls.”
Something in MacDuff’s expression changed at that moment.
He no longer found himself looking at a potential ally.
“As ye wish,” he said, coolly. “But I’ve come a long way at the direction of the king. I would appreciate a moment of yer time tae discuss what I’ve come tae discuss.”
Alastor looked him in the eyes. “You have come to ask me what my response is to Alpin Canmore’s many missives,” he said. “Therefore, I will tell you. You can return to your king and tell him that I refuse any alliance with the Scots. I will not enter into a battle that I cannot win. You cannot win. There are greater armies in England than there are in Scotland and the north lands, and you are entering into something that will assure your destruction. But it will not be mine. Make sure you tell William that.”
MacDuff’s eyes glittered in the weak light. “William is the rightful Earl of Northumbria,” he said. “That title was taken from him by Henry. He wants it back and he shall have it.”
Alastor cocked an eyebrow. “You dare to tell me that?” he asked. “My family descends from the Kings of Northumbria. This land was mine before it was ever William’s. The man is arrogant beyond measure to presume the land is his because it is mine and it will remain mine. If he comes to take it, I will fight him for it. I will not align with him simply to gain a piece of the pie of something that already belongs to me. Northumbria is mine, it will always be mine, and any man who thinks otherwise is my enemy. Now, get off my lands before I turn my army loose on you. I do not want to see your face again.”
With that, he turned away from MacDuff and headed out of the gatehouse, but MacDuff wasn’t finished with him yet.
“Ye’re making a mistake,” he called after him. “William will come and when he does, he will bring hell with him. Ye can be burned by the flame or ye can align yerself with the Devil. Dunna be foolish, de Bourne. Think!”
He was shouting by the time he was finished. But Alastor kept walking, unmoved and unimpressed. He grabbed Ares as he went.
There were plans to make.
“Reinforced the walls,” he commanded quietly. “Drop the second portcullis and secure the gatehouse. I fear we will have an onslaught when the day fully breaks.”
Ares nodded sharply and headed off as Alastor continued towards the keep. He’d just made a decision that was going to affect the health and welfare of his people, but he’d never felt better about anything in his life. Hell was indeed coming, but it wasn’t coming for him.
MacDuff would find that out soon enough.
And so would The Rough.
Unfortunately, MacDuff had other ideas.
“Pssst! You! Open this gate!”
Addax was trying desperately to get the attention of a soldier inside the kitchen yard as he and Cole stood at the postern gate of Castle Keld.
They were trying to get inside before the Scots saw them. Because of the low-setting moon and the near complete darkness, they had been extremely fortunate to have made it to the castle without being discovered. But it had been more fortunate that they had discover the Scots at all.
Shadows moving in the darkness had tipped them off.
Castle Keld was on a rise overlooking a small village of the same name, and the area around the village was lush with growth and trees. That growth only disappeared at the base of the hill Castle Keld was perched upon, and Cole and Addax had come in from the northeast, losing themselves in that growth as they made their way towards the castle.
But there were phantoms on the hill surrounding The Keld, phantoms that trickled down the road, seemingly clustering around the western edge of the village. It didn’t take a great intellect to realize that the Scots had beat them to Castle Keld, so they carefully made their way through the dark trees, finally emerging on the northeast side of the castle and making their way up the hill via the postern path.
Now, they stood at the gate.
Addax was trying desperately to catch the attention of someone while Cole held on to the horses and watched their backs. Drago, the happy glutton, ripped at the fat, juicy grass on the hillside as Addax did everything but shout as he tried to get someone’s attention. The postern gate was in two parts, with an outer gate that led to a small, enclosed yard before another gate was opened into the kitchen yard. Therefore, Addax had to work hard to make his presence known.
But finally, it worked.
The cook happened to be in the yard gathering eggs when she saw Addax at the outer gate. She had a torch with her and she went to the inner gate, curious as she peered towards the outer gate. Recognizing the prince from Kitara, she threw the bolt on the inner gate and quickly went to open the outer one, swiftly admitting Addax and Cole and their horses.
Cole slammed the gate behind him and locked it securely.
“Did the Scots see you?” the cook, a round woman with a knot of hair on top of her head, asked eagerly. “They’re at the gatehouse, you know.”
Cole nodded wearily. “We know,” he said. “Where is Lord Alastor?”
The cook shook her head as they passed through the second gate and bolted that one securely behind them. “I’ve not seen him,” she said. “But Anteaus told us to secure the keep. I’m gathering my chickens and moving them into the kitchens.”
They were moving quickly through the kitchen yard. “Where is Anteaus?” Cole asked.
“The last I saw, he was in the keep.”
Cole thanked her, leaving her with her chickens as he and Addax headed into the main bailey. They could see men on the battlements, battlements that ran all the way around the castle walls but, unfortunately, they all seemed to be bunched up towards the gatehouse, undoubtedly watching the Scots.