Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,55
an eyebrow. “Are you offering to fight alongside us … the hated English?”
Irvine snorted. “If it gets me what I want, aye.”
“And what is it you want?”
Shaw Irvine gave him a sly look. “I have watched this siege unfold from a distance. Despite your numbers, you are having trouble taking Dunnottar.”
Edward scowled, his temper rising. If this fool didn’t answer him directly, he was going to lose his head.
“The De Keith stronghold is a challenge to take,” Irvine continued, his gaze never leaving Edward’s, “but I have a weapon that will smash down the gates.”
“Do you?” Edward drew in a steadying breath in an attempt to manage his quickening temper. “Even if the gates have been strengthened with iron bars?”
A smirk twisted Shaw Irvine’s face. Then, he nodded.
Edward clenched his jaw. These Scots really were a traitorous lot. Although Irvine hadn’t yet admitted it, Edward could plainly see that this greedy laird was aching to get his hands on Dunnottar Castle. “And what is this weapon?”
Irvine flashed him another grin, before motioning to the men behind him to draw aside. A deep rumble filled the dusk air. Edward squinted in the gloaming, and then his gaze settled upon a great battering ram that slowly moved toward him. Built of wood and iron, it rolled in on a massive wagon that groaned and creaked under the sheer weight of the siege weapon.
Edward’s breathing quickened at the sight of it. This battering ram dwarfed all others he’d ever seen. The ram itself—a great oaken trunk tipped in iron—swung by ropes from a wooden scaffold. Tarred hide and planks of wood created a sturdy roof that would protect the weapon and the men operating it from being bombarded from above during an attack.
Irvine was now grinning like a loon, his chest swelling with obvious pride. “This is my ‘Battle Hammer’ … a weapon I designed myself. It took three months to build.”
“Impressive,” Edward replied, careful to keep his expression neutral. “But why should I care?”
The laird’s grin slipped. “Without my help, it could be another two weeks before you take Dunnottar.” His voice rose as he continued. “You need my Battle Hammer.”
“But I repeat, what do you get out of this?” Edward folded his arms across his chest then, staring the Scot down. Indeed, he required this siege weapon. But at the same time, he didn’t trust this weasel. He wanted Shaw Irvine to spell out his terms.
“I wish to rule Dunnottar and De Keith lands,” Shaw Irvine eventually admitted. His throat bobbed then, as Edward frowned. “As your steward … of course.”
“Of course,” Edward murmured. He stared at Irvine a few moments longer, letting the man sweat. Meanwhile, he pondered what the laird had just said.
Eventually, Shaw Irvine’s face grew tense, a muscle working in his bearded jaw. Perhaps it was dawning on him that he’d led his men straight into the wolf’s den. The Battle Hammer wouldn’t save him from Edward’s wrath if he decided Irvine was no use to him.
But luckily for the laird, Edward did require his assistance. In other circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered allying himself with such a venal individual—but he was impatient for this siege to end. Scotland was wearing upon him. He just wanted Wallace dead; with the Scottish spirit crushed, he could return to London and his lovely young wife.
“I take it you know the reason I’m laying siege to Dunnottar?” Edward asked after a pause.
“Aye,” Irvine replied warily, as if suspecting he was walking into a trap. “David De Keith tried to slit your throat. You are taking vengeance upon his clan … as is your right.”
“Yes,” Edward answered with a harsh smile. “But I’m also here for William Wallace.”
Irvine’s blue eyes drew wide. His surprise was unfeigned; this really was news to him. “The Wallace is here?” His gaze cut left at where Dunnottar’s bulk rose against the darkening sky.
“He is … the De Keiths have been sheltering him for the past couple of months, it seems.” Edward stepped forward then, towering over the shorter, broader Scot. “Very well, Irvine,” he murmured. “Help me take Dunnottar, and you will rule as my steward. All I want is Wallace’s head.”
“Do you want to take bets on how many more days it’ll be before Edward manages to take Dunnottar?” Draco broke the heavy silence at the table. “Although, at his current pace, summer will be over before he manages.”
Cassian and Maximus glanced up from their cups of wine. Neither man smiled at his joke.