Maiden of Inverness by Arnette Lamb

Author:Arnette Lamb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

CHAPTER

10

A spyglass pressed to his eye, Revas stood in the guard tower and scanned the horizon for a glimpse of Summerlad and the others. They should have returned by now; he’d been watching and waiting for hours.

Just when he’d decided to mount yet another rescue, the riders popped into view. Pennons fluttering above their heads, they were a powerful gathering of Scottish youth and valor. Expert horsemen all, they rode their steeds in perfect vanguard formation. As they approached the break in the curtain wall, Summerlad raised his arm. The others fell back into columns.

Revas raced down the steps and arrived at the gate as the first of the horses thundered into the yard.

Stable lads converged on the lathered animals; squires attended the toilworn riders.

Revas searched each man for signs of injury. He found none, but Summerlad’s trunk hose and leather battle jerkin were stained with blood.

“Are you injured?” he asked.

His mouth tightened, but his countenance spoke of victory. “Nay, Revas.”

“What delayed you?”

“The wheelwright admitted to having accomplices awaiting him at Elder’s Bow.”

Macpherson said, “We ventured ahead to spy them.”

“We found a nest of Cutberth’s mercenaries,” Summerlad hissed.

Meridene’s father so close to Elginshire? Revas didn’t believe the action signaled war; Cutberth enjoyed leading an army himself. He’d sent the wheelwright to abduct Meridene, and the mercenaries for escort. In her desire to escape, she had aided her father’s cause. “How many mercenaries?”

Summerlad removed his helmet and shook his head. “A score and some.”

Revas looked pointedly at the bloodstains. “You led your men against a force three times as great?”

Again Macpherson stepped forward. “Nay. We wanted to engage them, but Summerlad bade us return before they saw us. He earned his bands on the wheelwright.”

Summerlad had slain the man in a fair fight; of that, Revas was certain. He’d also prevented his men from waging a battle they were sure to lose. His leadership ability had been tried, and he had prevailed. “Dunbar died well?”

“You spoke the truth. He’s no Dunbar,” Summerlad said. “His shield bears the bull of the Macleods, barred.”

The black bar of illegitimacy. Such men were often more ruthless than foreign-born mercenaries. “A hired-out bastard.”

“He would not yield his sword to me,” Summerlad said. “When I made the offer the second time, he swore to slice off my manhood and present it to Serena.”

“Thereupon,” proclaimed Macpherson, “Summerlad did the slicing.”

Revas looked for a change in his fosterling, a hardness and acceptance of the need to slay another man. To his relief, he saw a shadow haunting those blue Macqueen eyes. He motioned to Summerlad. “Come with me.”

Oblivious to the people in the lane, Revas hurried to the church and ushered Summerlad inside. Father Thomas stood near the altar, and when he took a step toward them, Revas held up a hand to stop him. The cleric would take Summerlad’s sin to God; Revas had other counsel to offer.

“Even a black soul deserves a prayer,” he said. “Never forget that, my friend.”

Summerlad jammed the helmet under his arm. “Tell me, Revas.

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