Journey to the Highlands: Robbie and Caralyn (Clan Grant Series Book 4) (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

Robbie and Tomas stood in front of the priory. Robbie had just finished a conversation with the guards and the prioress, explaining the situation and how to reach him if necessary. A messenger approached him astride his horse as they stood talking.

“Captain Grant?” The messenger awaited Robbie’s answer.

“Aye. I’m Captain Robert Grant.”

The lad leaned over his horse to hand him the parchment he was holding. “Message for you from Dundonald.”

Robbie thanked him and took the letter, checking the seal before breaking the wax. After a quick read, he sighed and stared at his friend. “We have another mission.”

“What now? I thought we could finally return to Clan Grant. We only have a few warriors left in the area. We can’t do much with such a reduced force.”

“I don’t know, but Dundonald is asking for us to return to the royal burgh for instructions.”

“’Tis all he states? No more information than that? Not how long a journey, or in what direction?”

“Och, he only says that we will be in Ayr for a short time before returning to Glasgow. But there is no mention of the mission. He can’t be sending us to rebuild any of the cottages destroyed by the Norse, though. He promised he wouldn’t use us for that.”

Tomas’s face fell. “The rescue of the lassies will have to wait, aye?” Apparently, his friend was drawn to the wee lassies, as he was.

“I hate to leave without finding Caralyn’s daughters first. My gut tells me Murray is not to be trusted and will keep moving. Who knows what he will do next? Bairns will get in his way and he may get rid of them without telling Caralyn, especially wee little Gracie.”

“Mayhap we can find more out about Murray in the royal burgh. She was living just south of there not too long ago.”

Robbie’s expression was glum as he climbed back on his horse. “Good suggestion. We will see what we can discover about Malcolm Murray and his business. I hope we can return quickly. ‘Twill not be easy locating two weans in this large city.”

***

Dusk descended as Tomas and Robbie rode into Ayr. Robbie handed the reins of his horse to the stable lad and headed up toward the great hall, his boots clicking on the cobblestone. The town of Ayr seemed to be coming back to life after the threat of Haakon’s men had passed. Though the Norsemen had not reached Ayr, the general feel of the townspeople had been poisoned by the possibility. Now there was a jovial attitude in the local pubs, no more drawn faces and fearful glances.

Whatever his assignment was, it had to be accomplished in as short a time as possible. His brothers had both been blindsided by lasses—Alex by Maddie, Brodie by Celestina—and he had sworn it would never happen to him. Now he knew differently. Before he had experienced great pride each time he strode inside the gates of the royal castle, but now, he just wished to finish his task and head back to Glasgow. He wanted to be near her.

The steward ushered Robbie into one of the king’s many small solars. He hadn’t seen the king’s main solar since the day he and Brodie had been summoned to Ayr over the summer. As soon as he settled into a chair, Dundonald shoved the door open and spoke with a boom, his voice bouncing off the stones in the room. “Captain Grant, how nice to see you again. I appreciate your haste in attending my summons. Where is your guard, Tomas of Drumiston?”

Robbie bounded out of his chair to greet his superior officer. “Drumiston is outside tending our horses. I will convey the necessary information to him.”

A knock sounded at the door, and the steward let Tomas in.

“Och, no need. Here he is now.” Dundonald offered them both an ale before speaking. “Lads, I need you to handle a verra sensitive issue.”

Robbie glanced at Tomas. “Aye, we are trustworthy, Chief.”

“That I know, my son. Here is the information and I will send you on your way. You may want another one or two warriors with you on this mission.” He circled the desk in the corner of the room and sat in the chair behind it with his hands folded in his lap.

“You are aware the Norsemen assaulted many of our people when they pillaged the areas in South Ayrshire and up to Loch Lomond, aye?”

Robbie and Tomas both nodded. “Aye, we were in South Ayrshire when one of their galleys unloaded men who set fire to a gathering of cottages.”

Dundonald nodded. “Well, this won’t be a complete surprise if you have already witnessed the Norsemen’s brutality. As they headed south on the Firth of Clyde, one of the Norsemen’s longboats came upon a lone Scottish merchant ship heading south. Some fools didn’t listen to us when we advised our local merchants to postpone all journeys and keep all ships out of the Firth. The Norsemen overtook the ship, did what they needed to, then left the galley afloat in the waters of Arran. The ship has finally come ashore a bit south of here and I would like you to assist some of our men with the cargo. And since you have just come from there, I would like the cargo to be brought to the priory near Glasgow.

Robbie and Tomas exchanged perplexed glances. Robbie said, “Excuse me, what cargo are we dealing with that must be brought to Glasgow by land? I don’t understand, Chief. Why not send it to Glasgow by ship as was intended?”

Dundonald’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Because the ship was loaded with women. No merchant has come forward to claim the ship. Our guess is that the women were headed for a life of slavery in the East.”

“A ship full of women to be sold as slaves?” Tomas asked, incredulous at the implications of what Dundonald had said.

Robbie could only shake his head at the thought of what they might find. He had seen what one Norseman had done to one lass. The Norse would not have been pleased to be chasing their tails down the firth. How it must have delighted them to come upon a ship full of inadequately protected women. “It makes one wonder, which fate would have been worse for them? The East or the Norse?”

Dundonald snorted. “I wish the bastard who owned the ship would claim his cargo so I could publicly cut his bollocks off for all to see. You’ll need a strong stomach for this journey. What the Norsemen did to them isn’t pleasant. I want the women brought to the priory to heal, you are to take care that no one sees them while you travel.”

Robbie and Tomas left the solar and made their way out of the royal castle. As they strolled down the cobblestone courtyard inside the keep walls, a yell from outside the keep caught Robbie’s ears.

“Grant, would you make haste? I need to speak to you.”

The speaker stood just outside the castle gate, clearly unable to pass since he was not connected with the king. Robbie squinted, hoping to unmask the stranger.

“Will you stop your staring? Can you not recognize one of your sister’s family members?”

Robbie peered at the man before breaking out into a broad smile. “Logan? Logan Ramsay? What in hellfire brings you here, you hedge-born halfwit?” He hurried out of the gate with Tomas fast behind him.

Logan grasped Robbie by both shoulders once they met on the cobblestones. “Halfwit, is it? We’ll see what your brothers call you when you get home. They’re vexed over your disappearance and sent me to find you.”

Robbie cocked his head at his friend. “Somehow, I doubt my brothers sent you to find me.” Logan’s smirk told him he was correct in his assessment of the situation. “You couldn’t stay in one place, so you came here on your own. Dundonald informed my brother of what I was doing, and I already sent one group of warriors home. My brothers couldn’t have been overly concerned about my welfare. ”

Logan chuckled. “Middling bastard. Does it make a difference? Mayhap not your brothers, but the women are all worried about you, thinking you’ll never return. You broke too many hearts in the Grant clan.”

Robbie chuckled. “Now can we hear the truth? You just wanted to be in the thick of things again, Ramsay. You just can’t settle for long.”

Logan laughed. “Och, aye, that, too. Enough about my reasons for coming, though. What are you still doing at the king’s castle, and where are you headed?”

Robbie thought for a moment. Dundonald had mentioned he might need more men. Riding a cart full of women wouldn’t be easy, especially with the renegades outside of Glasgow. “You’re here at just the right time. I need a couple more warriors for my next assignment. Will you join me?”

“Of course, ‘twas my intention all along. Lead the way.”

Chapter Thirteen

A couple of hours later, they neared the Kirk south of the royal burgh. Robbie could hear sobs from inside as they neared the building. He hoped he could handle whatever they found inside. It couldn’t be as bad as battling, could it?

He knocked on the locked door of the Kirk, night having settled in. He stared up at the stars hoping he could finish this mission and hurry back to continue his search for Caralyn’s daughters.

The door opened a crack and a priest stared out at him. “State your purpose.”

Once Robbie convinced him they had been sent by Dundonald to help, the priest led them through the front door and into a room in the back primarily used for storage. As he drew closer, he could hear a painful chorus of moans and groans from the back room. Robbie shook his head, praying for strength. Whatever he was about to discover, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he found the bastard responsible for sending a ship full of women out alone for such a dark purpose.

They stepped into the small chamber and Robbie made a slow assessment of the inhabitants. Six cots were spread around the room, young women resting on them in various stages of recovery. Cuts, bruises, bloody lips, broken bones, and worst of all, broken spirits. Some sobbed openly while others stared into space. A couple of priests assisted with cleaning the women’s wounds and offering comfort where they could, but it was obvious that these wounds would be a long time in healing. Seeing the mistreated women brought memories of Caralyn the day he’d found her in the hands of the Norseman. Mayhap the same group of beasts had found this ship.

Robbie turned to the priest, uncertain how to best proceed with transporting the women to Glasgow.

Father MacLaren spoke in a soft whisper. “Probably better to move them tonight, lads. There is naught more we can do for them here. They need to be tended by women, and we just don’t have the supplies for bandaging or the healers to set their broken bones to rights.”

Robbie frowned, but searched the priest’s face. “How shall we move them, Father?”

“Och, there are two carts. I believe we can get them comfortable for the most part. There are several mounds of hay in the back. My fear is if you wait until daylight, you will draw more attention to the women. If you leave soon, you should be able to make it to the priory by morning. At least you’ll travel through the royal burgh in the dark.”

Tomas and Logan entered the room behind him. Without speaking, Logan moved over to one of the beds where an alert woman was resting, watching their every move. He moved toward her a bit, Robbie didn’t know why.

The woman hissed, “Touch me and I will rip your bollocks in two, you rutting bastard.”

Father MacLaren pivoted toward the young lass, probably around twenty summers. “Gwyneth, these men are here to help. They aren’t the enemy. Their mission is to transport you to the priory. Please be agreeable.”

Gwyneth lifted her head into the light so she could survey the group. Robbie decided she had been a beautiful woman before she’d encountered the Norse, though it was hard to tell between the bruises.

She hoisted herself up tall enough to almost look Logan eye to eye. Logan was still a mite bit above her, but she was close. Long legs supported her and she clutched a small plaid to her torso.

She cocked her head at Robbie. “Take me back to Glasgow and I will be eternally grateful, but I won’t go to the priory. Fair warning for any of you, if you try to touch me, I’ll stick a knife between your ribs when your head is turned.”

Father MacLaren said, “Gwyneth, these are the men who fight for the Scottish crown. They aren’t here to hurt you.”

“Your pardon, Father. Other than you, all men are the same. Get me to Glasgow and you’ll never have to see me again. Just give me my bow and arrows and my knife, and I will leave a happy lass. And don’t try to tell me they aren’t here, because I know the rotten bastard intended to sell my weapons, too.”

Logan checked the woman over from head to toe, smiling when her gaze caught his.

“Do that again, and ‘twill be the last thing you do, warrior or not.” She leaned in so she was nose to nose with Logan. “You don’t frighten me. I could kill you easily.”

Logan locked gazes with her, his smile gone now. “I have nae doubt you could, lass. I’ll keep my hands to myself until you request otherwise.”

The two stared at each other for a long pause, Gwyneth in a snarl, but Logan unrelenting. The air bristled with tension, though Robbie wasn’t quite sure what type of tension it was. Had his impulsive, daredevil brother-in-law just met his match? Finally, Father MacLaren cleared his throat and said, “Come, lass, I will give you your things as long as you promise not to use any of your weapons on these men.”

Gwyneth limped along behind the priest. “As long as no one touches me, you have my word, Father. If any man dares to lay a hand on me, believe me, his life will be in
my
hands.” When she made this last statement, she turned to give a pointed look to Logan, who had yet to remove his gaze from her.

***

Caralyn’s hands trembled as she awaited the arrival of the abbess. She had been unable to come last night, but this morning, as soon as Malcolm left, she had made her way over to the priory. Malcolm had given permission for her to go to two places only, either the Kirk or the priory, supposedly to pray with the nuns. He sent two escorts with her each time she left the keep to make sure she went nowhere else. Fortunately, the priory wasn’t far from Malcolm’s by horseback and the men were only too pleased to stand watch from the outside of the building.

Once at the priory, Caralyn had volunteered to contribute her help to the priory in some way. Mother Mary had led her down a dark staircase to the basement. After leading her through a maze of corridors, Mother Mary stopped outside a doorway and turned to speak to her. “My dear, I know your life has been difficult. I could ask you toil in the vegetable gardens or in the kitchen peeling potatoes, but my instinct tells me you can better serve our God down here. This is where our healers do their work, and what they do varies depending on the needs of the town. Not long ago, we treated men who had been hurt at the Battle of Largs. Now, we have the need to treat those who have been hurt by the war in a different way.

“Father MacLaren sent me a message yesterday informing me of a group of women who had been beaten and brutalized by a ship full of Norsemen. These women were on a ship when the Norsemen took control of it. They used the women as they saw fit and sent the longboat drifting out to sea. The ship was recovered by the Scottish crown and brought to shore south of Ayr.

“The females are being brought here for treatment. A small group of the king’s Highland warriors have gone to escort them here in carts. This will be a challenging assignment for anyone in the room. I believe you are up to that challenge. Tell me now if I have misjudged you.” Mother Mary crossed her hands in front of her body, awaiting Caralyn’s response.

“Aye, you have judged correctly, Mother.”

“You understand you may see females in the same condition you came to us or worse? We kept you upstairs at the time because this hall was filled with men. But now it will be all women. If at any time you feel this is inappropriate or painful for you, please return upstairs. I will take care of your escorts.”

“I would like to do this, Mother Mary. Please.”

“Follow me, child.” The abbess strode into the long hall lined with small cots on both sides of the room. A large hearth was situated outside of the room and a small hearth where they heated water and broth sat against another wall. Tables sat in the middle covered with linen strips and salves. Storage chests sat at the foot of many of the beds.

The beds were empty. A couple of nuns fussed with supplies, but there was no one in need of care yet. A sister with a warm smile and a dimple strode toward them, opening her arms wide to Caralyn. “My dear, you have come to assist us in our care of the weak?”

Mother Mary’s chin lifted a notch, commanding the sister’s attention. “Sister Donna, this is Caralyn. You may remember her from a fortnight ago. She was here with her two daughters.”

“Of course, I remember her. And how do your sweet lassies fare?”

Caralyn stole a glance at her fingertips before answering. “They are fine, Sister Donna. My thanks for your concern.” How she wished she could be truthful and tell them she had no idea how her daughters fared, that they had been taken from her and were being held against their will. Their happiness was completely dependent on her submission to Malcolm.

Mother Mary said, “I will leave Caralyn with you, Sister. I hope she can be of assistance. My messengers tell me we should expect our visitors sometime this morning.”

The abbess left and Sister Donna gave Caralyn a quick tour of the facility, explaining where the most used supplies were stored. She introduced her to another nun, Sister Elinor, a younger lass with golden hair and a sweet smile. Fortunately, Sister Elly, as she called herself, chattered on so much that Caralyn didn’t need to speak. At present, her thoughts were with her girls. Tears threatened to slide down her cheeks, but a noise from above interrupted their thoughts.

“Och, they’re here, my dear. Follow me and I’ll tell you what to do.” Sister Donna ushered her over to the doorway.

She waited in the background, which proved to be a wise move. It allowed her to cover her surprise when she recognized the first man to carry a wounded woman into the room as none other than Captain Robbie Grant. He actually came to a halt when he saw her, but then continued on after Sister Donna. Oh, how her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Robbie Grant. Aye, she wondered if he had located her daughters, but she had to admit her reaction to the sight of him was stronger than she ever would have guessed.

Robbie stopped on his way out the door and said with a smile, “’Tis nice to see you, Caralyn.” He headed down the corridor, presumably to assist more women who needed care. His smile had a way of warming her to her core, causing her to blush with pleasure.

Sister Donna oversaw everything while Caralyn worked with Sister Elly who kept her so busy she didn’t have the opportunity to seek Robbie out again. She hoped he would come speak with her again before he left since she was desperate to hear anything about her lasses. The location necessitated discretion, however, so she didn’t know if the chance would come or not.

Occasional moans and groans could be heard from the group, but for the most part, the lasses were silent, visibly sighing when they reclined on the soft mattresses and gave in to the ministrations of the sisters around them. An argument interrupted the silence.

Caralyn spun around in time to see a brawny Highlander carrying a woman into the room. She was arguing with him the whole way.

“Put me down, Logan Ramsay. I told you that you were never to touch me. How dare you assume I need help when I don’t. And I am not staying here either.”

Logan grinned all the way across the chamber. “Just following orders, my lady. Want to make sure you have no serious injuries.” Logan plopped her down on the nearest cot and she landed with a string of curses.

Caralyn froze. “Gwyneth?” She hobbled across the room, her ankle still a bit tender, her arms open wide. “Blessed saints, ‘tis really you?”

“Caralyn? Hellfire! How I have missed you.”

Gwyneth smiled and the two lasses threw themselves at each other, hugging as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Caralyn stepped back and stroked Gwyneth’s arm. “I was afraid I would never see you again. Where have you been? Are you unhurt?” She helped Gwyneth back onto the bed before she sat down next to her.

“I wouldn’t sit here for anyone but you, Caralyn Crauford, especially not for this lout!” She waved her arm toward Logan, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. With a huff, she turned away from him, giving him her back. “Caralyn, I am so happy to see you. Where are your sweet lassies? Wee Gracie must be so big by now.”

Caralyn’s face twisted into a frown, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. Please, may we talk about this later?” She glanced up just in time to see Robbie striding over to the bed, Logan at his side. Caralyn’s gaze caught his and he shook his head.

He whispered so no one else could hear him but Logan, Caralyn, and Gwyneth. “Sorry, lass. We haven’t yet found your wee ones.”