Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,58

and Gavina aren’t part of the curse like we thought.”

Another silence fell in the solar. Gavina turned once more to the tapestry, her fingers tightening around the beater she still held. The urge to throw open the window and cast the tapestry and all her weaving tools out of it surged within her.

Useless woman’s work. What does it matter now?

“Ye don’t think ye have all given up hope too soon?” Elizabeth’s soft voice intruded then.

Gavina turned to her. “Too soon? Ye never wanted me to take part in all of this. Ye never believed it.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Ye forget I was there in the clearing that dawn … I saw Cassian stab himself in the heart and live. I might not want to believe it, but I know my own eyes didn’t lie to me.” Her gaze swept around the solar, taking in the strained faces of her companions. “Ye are all letting despair get the better of ye. At this rate, gloom will take us all before Longshanks gets his hands on us.”

“I don’t know what ye expect us to do?” Gavina replied wearily. “None of us can work miracles, Liz.”

Elizabeth drew herself up, her gaze narrowing. “I don’t think ye have explored all possibilities. For one thing, ye haven’t consulted anybody who knows about curses and witchcraft.”

Gavina didn’t answer. She merely stared at her sister-by-marriage, taken aback. When she didn’t reply, Elizabeth let out a huff of frustration. “There’s a wise woman, a seer, who lives in Stonehaven.” She set aside her spindle, placing it on top of the basket of wool beside her. “Locals say she practices old magic. Some say she’s even a witch. Ye and Draco should pay her a visit. Maybe, she has the answers ye seek.”

“Ye want them to consult a witch?” Heather asked, her voice incredulous. Both sisters were staring at Elizabeth as if she’d lost her wits.

Elizabeth’s full mouth curved into a smile. “Aye,” she murmured. “After all, a witch made this curse … maybe another can end it.”

“What are those cunning bastards doing?”

Draco leaned over the walls and watched the men below the keep. They were laying down long wooden planks. They’d started at the base of the defile and were slowly making their way up the incline toward the gates. All the while, the defenders pelted them with crossbow bolts, arrows, and chunks of rock. But clad in chainmail and iron helms, protected by men shielding them from the blows with shields, the soldiers worked tirelessly.

“They’re bringing in a weapon,” William Wallace announced.

Draco cut a glance at their leader. The big man stood at his shoulder, a fierce scowl creasing his face. Like all of them, the Wallace was tired and dirty, although his gaze was as determined as ever. He didn’t even appear to notice the weeping cut on his forehead, where an arrow had grazed him that morning. “Not a siege tower?”

“No, he’d never get something that big up the defile … something else I’d say.”

“Look.” A few feet farther down the wall, Cassian pointed to the cliff-top. And as they watched, a bulky outline pushed its way through the ranks of soldiers. From this distance, it looked like a huge covered wagon. But as the object was slowly lowered down the steep slope beneath the cliff-top, Draco’s breathing stilled.

It was an enormous battering ram.

The day was grey, but even so, the weapon’s iron tip glinted. It was at least thrice the size of the one the English had been using previously.

“I don’t believe it,” Cassian hissed a moment later. “Is that Irvine plaid I see?”

Draco frowned. “Where?” His gaze scanned the crowd of soldiers upon the cliff-top, bypassing the English banners: the red and white Saint George’s Cross flag and the gold and red Plantagenet lions. And there he saw them, fluttering pennants of bright green and blue. Irvine plaid was actually quite similar to that of their neighbors, the De Keiths.

An irony really.

“Hades take us all,” Maximus cursed, stepping up at Draco’s shoulder. His own gaze was trained upon the bulky siege weapon, which the soldiers were having trouble keeping in check as they descended the rough slope. “Irvine’s ‘Battle Hammer’ is actually real,” he breathed.

Wallace cast him a dark look. “So, we have two ‘Hammers’ to deal with, do we?” he growled. “It matters not … we’ll defeat them both.”

Draco cast his leader a wary look. Wallace was the bravest man he’d ever met, but he was beginning to think he was also one of