Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,53
my only care. My father told me to protect the lad with my life. And now…” Burying her face in her hands, she released an anguished sob. “I’ve lost him.”
“Och, lass. We will find him.” James moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “He is of noble blood, important to King Robert and the foundation of the Kingdom of Scotland.”
Whipping around, Ailish faced him. “He is and nothing can happen to him.”
“I ken, lass.” He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. “If you’ll wait for me here, I’ll go below stairs and find some food.”
“May I go with you?”
He held her at arm’s length. “Not if you’re expecting a bairn. ’Tis too dangerous.”
“You ken I’m not.”
“You began the ruse, now you must play your part.”
“But what if Torquil and Caelan discover Harris is in the tollbooth?”
“Then we’ll have a rescue to plan, will we not?”
With a wee gasp, she covered her mouth with her fingers as if she were too afraid to hope. “Dear Lord, please make it so.”
James took her hands between his much larger palms, turned them over and kissed each trembling finger. “I may be an overbearing brute and as rugged as the Highlands, but I promise you we will find your brother and then we will not rest until he is back on Scottish soil with you.”
“What if they have him locked in an impenetrable tower? What if he’s already in the Tower of London?”
“Then our king must negotiate.”
“Will he?”
The lass was too perceptive. But James intended to do everything in his power to see Robert assert his kingship and take as many prisoners as the English crown had taken from Scotland. “In time. When he gains leverage.”
“But that could take years.”
“Wheesht, lass. Do not allow yourself to fret over that which we do not yet know.” He headed for the door. “Lock the bolt after I leave.”
***
Below stairs, the noise in the alehouse was loud enough to shake the timbers. Men dirty from a day’s work either stood three-deep at the bar or sat at one of the tables strewn haphazardly about the tavern. The odor of stale beer and tallow hung on the air in a hazy smoke.
When James spotted Torquil and a group of Douglas men huddled together at a table near the rear, he strode toward them. “What news?” he asked, annoyed they hadn’t sought him out as soon as they returned from the tollbooth.
Caelan scooted aside, thumping the bench. “The clerk was gone for the day and will not return until the morrow.”
James slid into the seat. “Did you ask a guard?”
“I tried.” Torquil raised his tankard to his lips. “He threatened to run me through.”
“Bastard.”
James flagged a wench and ordered another ewer of ale as well as food and drink to take to Ailish.
“Are you certain the lad is in Carlisle?” asked Caelan.
“Nay, but it is likely.”
“What will we do if he’s not?”
James sat back as the wench brought the drink. “Find him.”
“Search all of England?” asked Torquil.
Such a quest might take years—time James did not have. He was supposed to be building an army and preparing to wreak havoc along the borders, not chasing after a child. But then again, his own father had been abducted by Edward’s forces and taken in chains to the Tower of London where they tortured Da to death.
Who kens what they will do to a lad of nine?
“We’ll do what we can,” he said as the heavy door at the front creaked open. His spirits lifted a bit as he beckoned the Douglas man. “Davy!”
But as his friend strode toward the table, his face appeared drawn as if he’d aged a decade in the two days since they’d left Selkirk Forest.
Standing, James grasped the man’s forearm in a handshake reserved for kin. “What is it?”
“Grave news, but first I must tell you the messenger from the Bruce returned with an arrow in his shoulder.”
“Good God.”
“Bloody fighter, that one. Blair is tending him.” Davy pulled James aside and whispered in his ear, “The king has taken refuge on the Isle of Arran—was pursued mercilessly by those loyal to Comyn. He sent word to do what you can to find Lord Harris as long as your army will be ready to attack without mercy by midsummer.”
James nodded. “I thought no less.”
“But there’s more.” Davy’s face grew ashen. “It cuts me to the quick to utter it.”
“Make room,” said James, urging his friend to the bench. “Tell me all.”
The man slid beside