Chapter Twenty-Five
Lyall surveyed the distant stand of trees with a frown. The forest was dark and impenetrable, a perfect place for an ambush. His clansmen were silent, waiting for the order to attack.
‘Do you think the Gowans are in there, watching us?’ asked Cormac.
‘I’d wager they will be long gone by now, but there is no way of knowing for certain, and it is a risk, Cormac. If we attack from here, then they have the advantage with the cover of the trees,’ Lyall replied.
How many Gowan clansmen lurked in those dark trees, out of sight, bows drawn, swords at the ready? The bastards might just be making a break for it, heading back to the safety of Mauldsmyre Castle, the Gowan’s stronghold. Or they might have a different plan.
They had tracked the Gowan’s this far, riding all night to catch up with them after a sighting at one of the villages, on the border of Buchanan territory. The brutes had raided and carried off livestock and coin at sword point, and Lyall was in a fury of anger. He wanted to cut them down, and he wanted this over with, but he couldn’t let impatience get the better of him. Years ago, he had been caught in a Gowan ambush, and it had cost the life of his younger brother, Darrow. He was not going to rush into those trees and make the same mistake twice.
A shout went up from behind them. ‘A rider, Laird, coming from the north.’
A horse was galloping, at full pelt, across the moor, and, to his astonishment, he recognised the rider as Ramsay. The horse skidded to a halt before them, sweating and obviously ridden to the edge of its endurance. Ramsay’s face was a mess of scabs and bruises.
‘We must speak,’ he hissed at Lyall.
‘Your face!’ said Cormac.
‘I am come with news, Lords, grave news.’
‘Ravenna? The child?’ gasped Cormac.
‘Nay Lord, it concerns Giselle de Villers.’
‘What of her?’ Lyall held his breath as Ramsay babbled out his message in a rush.
‘Taken, Lord. A man came to Beharra, a vicious brute. He had the King’s order to take her, with his seal on it, and he had soldiers at his back, many of them, too many’
‘Who? What man?’
‘Banan, Lord, Banan MacGregor. He said that you would know why he had come.’
‘Banan?’ Lyall’s breath left his body in a rush. He glanced at Cormac whose face had turned hard with anger.
‘When was this?’ he growled.
‘Two weeks ago.’
‘Two weeks!’ Lyall dismounted and dragged Ramsay off his horse. He grabbed a fistful of his tunic and shook him hard. ‘Why did you not come sooner to tell me this?’
‘Banan did not say where they were going, so I followed him and his men, at great risk. It took me some time to come back with news of their destination.’
‘And?’ snarled Lyall.
‘He took her to Urquhart, Lord, to the King’s court, which is presently there.’
‘He took her to court before the King. Why?’
Cormac came up to him and prised his fingers off of Ramsay.
‘Go, Ramsay. Leave us be for a moment,’ he said.
‘There’s more you should know, Lord.’
‘Speak,’ snarled Lyall.
‘I could discover no news at Urquhart as to the welfare of the de Villers girl, but I am certain she is there. On the day I was to leave, to bring you this news, there was an execution.’