Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,50
stood in the middle of the road and held up his palm. “Halt.”
James pulled on the reins while a tic twitched at the corner of his eye. It would be ever so easy to crack the whip and trample the cur.
“What is your purpose?” demanded the man.
To smite your kind from Scotland forever. One day soon, he’d speak the words on the tip of this tongue. Just not this day. James even managed a semblance of a smile. “We’re hunters taking these pelts to market—they’ll make fine vellum, they will.”
A pair of sentries armed with pikes moved behind to the wagon for their inspection.
“Is that so?” asked the guard. “That’s quite an impressive heap. Where did you fell these deer? The king will be very interested to know.”
Not my king. “They’re Highland roe deer—hunted far from the king’s forests for certain.” The admission made bile burn James’ throat.
“Highlanders, eh?” The man tapped the pommel of the sword sheathed on his belt. “You’ve traveled a long way to sell your wares.”
“They’ll fetch more coin in Carlisle.”
“Perhaps.” The guard rested his hand on the cart horse’s rump. “Tell me, what news have you of the outlaw Robert the Bruce?”
James’ ire ratcheted higher, his fingers itching to pull the sword hidden in the pelts behind his hip and plunge it through the miserable fiend’s heart. “I heard there was a coronation at the end of March. It seems Scotland has a new king, though I’ve not seen hide nor hair of him.”
“Hardly. The bastard is on the run. He’ll be dead along with that demon zealot the Black Douglas.”
James snorted. “I’ve heard Douglas is not of sound mind.”
“Ah, so you’re aware he razed his father’s former keep and hung Sir Clifford’s head from the bailey, have ye?”
Dear God in heaven, if only I could slit this miserable fiend’s throat and be done with it. James shrugged as if he had all day to flap his mouth. “Most everyone’s talking about him. First mention I heard of it was when we passed through Glasgow.”
“Well, when we find him, I’m going to flay him and turn his hide into a belt.”
“What’s this?” asked one of the sentries, pulling a sword out from the middle of the pelts.
James feigned nonchalance. “Och, when ye have a wife as bonny as mine, a man needs to defend himself.”
“All blades are to be confiscated by the king.”
“A moment,” shouted the other pikeman, his arm buried in the stack of furs. “Here’s another!”
“Bless it, I kent you’d cause trouble the moment I set eyes on ye.” James glanced back as he pulled his sword out from its hiding place. “Ye want the Black Douglas’ hide? Well I dare ye to take it!”
The guard’s eyes flashed wide as the hood dropped from James’ head. Stumbling backward, the cur grappled for his sword, but James was faster. Leaping from the wagon, he drove the point of his blade into the guard’s throat.
As he whipped around, a pikeman hurled his lance through the air. James ducked. Ailish’s bow twanged, her arrow hitting the man in the chest and, as he gaped in shock, another arrow shot from behind the wagon lodged in his thigh.
James spun to the third pikeman, ready for a fight. But the man was already down with an arrow buried in his back.
“Haste!” Ailish said, standing in the wagon, her bow loaded and ready for another shot.
“Take out the archers in the ramparts!” James bellowed as he slapped the reins, cuing the carthorse to run. “Keep your head down, m’lady.”
“I have a shot!” she hollered, letting her arrow fly, followed by a shrill cry from a falling man.
But as soon as one fell, he was replaced by another.
Charging around the wagon, Caelan led the way, riding toward the fort with his reins in his teeth. At breakneck speed, the warrior took two shots, each hitting its mark.
After James had driven the cart out of firing distance, he hopped down and offered his hand. “I’ll help you mount.”
“I can manage.” Ailish slung the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder. “You tend to your horse.”
James unhitched the carthorse as Torquil and the men swiftly grabbed the remaining weapons from their hiding places. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Not yet,” said Caelan, kicking his heels. “But they’re after us for certain.”
James mounted while Ailish rode beside him. “Damn,” he growled as they headed south. The last thing he wanted was a skirmish at the border. Now they either must outrun the patrol or set