Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,34
night out; the air was cool yet still, and the sky above was a clear swath of sparkling stars. A sickle moon rode high above them, a silver horseshoe against the inky blanket of night.
Aila breathed in the scent of wood smoke, her edginess ebbing. Woodland surrounded Stirling, so the folk here didn’t need to rely on peat to warm their homes. A smile stretched across her face. “It’s beautiful out here.”
Fyfa shot her a bright smile. “Aye … the keep and its bailey are grand enough, but they aren’t what I love most about this place. Follow me.”
And with that, the woman picked up her skirts and led Aila away from the keep. They crossed the inner-bailey, past where guards lurked in long shadows. However, Fyfa didn’t appear remotely cowed. Instead, she waved to the English soldiers, called out a cheery ‘Bonsoir’, and continued on her way.
“Aren’t ye nervous?” Aila asked, hurrying after her. “These men aren’t Scots … they can’t be trusted.”
Fyfa snorted. “No man, Scot or English can be trusted. But fret not … they know I’m Hume Comyn’s wife … they’ll dare not cause us any bother.”
The woman, although no older than twenty-five winters, spoke with such authority that Aila found herself believing her. Fyfa led her out of the bailey and through a large walled garden. Burning torches lined the pathways. The scent of lavender and rosemary enveloped them in here, their slippered feet crunching upon the pebbled path. The two women approached a statue at the heart of the garden: the rearing head of a horse. The statue was a fearsome sight, for it was made of a pale sandstone that glowed in the moonlight.
Fyfa paused before it. “It’s a kelpie,” she murmured, her gaze resting upon the creature’s wild face. “Hume’s grand-da sculpted it.”
“It’s magnificent,” Aila breathed.
The steward’s wife shot her an answering smile. “Come … this way.”
Fyfa continued on, skirting the statue and heading toward the northern edge of the garden, where steps led up to a high wall. Fyfa scaled them, and Aila followed her.
From there, they looked down upon a vast, grassy space, illuminated by the starlight—and at its center was a large, octagonal mound.
“That’s the King’s Knot,” Fyfa explained. “Ye can’t see much at night, but there are rose beds planted out there … the lords of Stirling use the rest of the grounds for hawking and hunting … and at midsummer, there are jousting tournaments.” She paused, casting Aila a conspirator’s grin. “Legend has it that King Arthur’s round table lies beneath the Knot.”
Aila’s breathing caught. She loved legends and stories; there were many associated with Dunnottar, but Stirling was all new to her—and it was a place of kings and queens.
“What about the castle’s other secrets?” she asked, grinning back at Fyfa. Now that her initial nervousness had disappeared, she was excited to explore the castle further.
Fyfa’s gaze glinted in the light of a nearby brazier. “This way then. The best is yet to come.”
The woman turned and hurried back down the narrow steps. Aila followed her, although much more gingerly. Even with burning torches and braziers upon the walls, the shadows were deep. One misstep and she’d break her neck.
The steward’s wife led her back, through the gardens, across the inner-bailey, and into another large walled space.
“This is the Nether Bailey,” Fyfa announced, her voice lowering to a whisper.
Illuminated by burning braziers upon the walls, Aila could see that it was rocky and exposed, and afforded a wide view over the lands below. The fires of the town glowed in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, Aila caught sight of a row of low-slung buildings with thatched roofs against the northern wall.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Storehouses and workshops mostly,” Fyfa replied airily, “but that’s not why I’ve brought ye here. Come … take a look at this.”
With that she took a torch from a bracket near the gate and led Aila down to the wall walk.
XV
PROMISE ME
THE TWO WOMEN had finished their tour and were making their way back across the inner-bailey toward the keep, when Aila spotted a tall figure striding across the courtyard toward them.
Her heart leaped against her ribs, and without thinking, she drew closer to her guide.
Fyfa had said it was safe out here, yet maybe she was mistaken.
But as the man drew closer, the tension in Aila’s breast unknotted. The breath she’d been holding gusted out of her. “Captain Gaius,” she gasped.
Fyfa glanced her way, her gaze sharpening. “Ye know him?”