Chapter 19

"What if we"re too late?" Ainslee asked, with bated breath, as they raced towards the keep.

The sturdy brownish-gray outline cast a shadow over the landscape, standing out for miles around. With Marisse by her side, the pair hastened over the muddied ditches and glens of the way.

Marisse fixed her with a stare. "Well we"ll just have to hurry," she said, taking the reins of her mare. Ainslee, astride her horse, harrumphed exasperated.

"I shouldnae have let him get ahead o" me!" she said, anxiously. "I nae should ha" let him go..."

Marisse looked at her sharply. "Let him?" she said, briskly. "He"s a grown man, ye cannae tell him what to do..."

Ainslee nodded, reluctantly. Marisse was right, when had she ever been able to tell Malcolm what to do? Spurring on her horse further, Ainslee took the reins and rode like she had never done before.

Past the little copse of trees reaching to the keep, and up to the main gates, she galloped, the little pony dutifully doing its best. As they approached, she could already see a crowd forming with folk milling in and out of the castle.

Slowing up, Marisse looked at Ainslee. "What"s happening?"

Ainslee stared ahead. The guards on the gate seemed overwhelmed. The sheer force of the people had proved too much. They were waved through the gates, and soon enough the pair found themselves at the Duncan keep.

"I cannae believe folk are just going in," said Marisse, dumbfounded. But with several heavyset men behind them, they simply passed through the keep doors, and into its drafty corridors.

All the while, the sense of alarm was growing.

"What, what is going on?" whispered Marisse, as all the guards seemed to have disappeared. Ainslee, her eyes peeled and darting, watched anxiously.

"I dinnae ken," she began, when a thickset villager cut in.

"The auld laird"s son is back, an" fighting wi" his brother for the clan!"

"So they say!" added a second one, a small, bony man, smelling of sheep. Before either of them could answer, the pair pushed past them. Not far behind, a noisy stampede was igniting.

"Come on," Ainslee grabbed Marisse, and deftly cut through them all. Taking advantage of their smaller size, she simply dived under the crowd, to get to the front.

Not long later, they had shimmied to the front of the great hall. Clutching Marisse"s hand tightly, Ainslee dragged her friend along.

"I cannae let him kill himself, I cannae..."

The hall was packed and buzzing. Its froideur lost under the weight of bodies, pushing to get to the fore. There was so much shouting, Ainslee could not hear, and it was some time before she got close enough to see.

Then, she did see.

"Ainslee!" Marisse, taking her hand, led her through the crowd, to the side, where there was a gap. There, at the front of the hall was Bruce. He was on the floor.

For a moment or two, he did not move; his face, a strange shade of gray.

"Och," Ainslee"s hand went to her mouth. For a few seconds, she thought he was dead. Then, he began groaning.

"Malcolm? Where is he?" Ainslee shrieked out loud, but the noise was so loud that no-one heard her. With the jostling from the crowd, it was impossible to hear, or see. Turning to Marisse, she was just about to speak, when she saw him.

Malcolm had appeared, holding a sword straight to Bruce"s neck. His stance was defiant, but on the ground, Bruce was beginning to rally.

"Where are all the guards?" hissed Marisse, seeing the madness all around. Ainslee just shrugged, too busy keeping her eyes on Malcolm. Then, she yelped.

"Mal, watch oot!"

Ainslee gasped, as the not-dead Bruce suddenly made a grab for Malcolm"s leg. Pulling it hard, he succeeded in toppling Malcolm, who crashed to the floor.

"Malcolm!" Ainslee was shrieking, but she could barely be heard. Yelling all around surrounded her, the noise closing in and almost drowning her own thoughts out.

Jostling hit the crowd, but something kept them back. Screwing up her eyes, Ainslee picked out a few of the guards, their backs pressed to the fight.

Now Malcolm was on the floor, thrashing and flaying. Ainslee felt a cold hit her heart at the sight of him floundering. Desperately, she attempted to break through the human chains, and help him, but Marisse forced her back.

"Are ye rocket? Marisse dragged her away, pushing her roughly into the corner. Around them, men chanted, Ainslee felt her anger surge.

"Wheesht! Get away!" she said, shooing her friend, but Marisse would not let her.

"Ainslee, ye great walloper, ye"ll be killed!"

For a few minutes, their fighting threatened to overshadow the ruckus at the top of the hall. Finally, Ainslee gave up trying to win against Marisse and watched, in creeping horror, as Bruce pummeled Malcolm with his fists.

"Noo," howled Ainslee, impotently. She was close up against the line of guards. Malcolm still hadn"t seen her yet, leaving Ainslee sobbing impatiently.

Bruce had the upper hand. For minutes, he was swaggered, with Malcolm at his feet. Ainslee felt sick. Then, out of nowhere, Malcolm swang up, grasping Bruce tight.

A huge cheer rang up from the crowds. Malcolm had Bruce in his grip, and although he struggled to get away, this time he could not.

Malcolm did not rest for one minute. Grabbing Bruce, he knocked him over, beating him into a retreat, before brandishing the Duncan Sword at his head. Now they were quiet.

An uncanny hush descended on the Duncan hall. Marisse held Ainslee, who found her heart to be throbbing hard in her chest.

Bruce struggled, floundering like a landed fish, as Malcolm towered above him. This went on for what felt like hours, until the crowd"s low hum grew into a roar.

"Malcolm for laird!" shouted one of the villagers.

"He is the true heir!" yelled another, only just audible over the din. Pretty soon, the whole room was cheering and stomping their feet.

Europheria rising, Ainslee grinned crazily at Marisse. "He"s done it! He is the new laird!"

With Bruce on the floor, it certainly seemed as though it was, but an elder, watching from the front line coughed quickly.

"Only if the auld laird acquiesces," murmured a dark-haired elder.

The weight of the room shifted to Bruce. Listless on the floor, he groaned.

"Aye," he said simply. A huge cheer rose in the room.

Excited, Ainslee leaped in the air. "Hoo, Malcolm! Hoo!"

At last, he saw her. Through the chaos and the noise, Malcolm"s confused eyes fell on her.

"Ainslee?" He stood still, his mouth falling open. "But..."

Ainslee felt her heart surge, cheered on by the crowd, she rushed forwards, suddenly.

"Mal, ye did it!" she began, but then stopped dead.

Bruce had got to his feet. She did not see how or why, just that he had Malcolm by the throat, pressing him up against the wall. Malcolm dropped the sword, to the turmoil of the crowd. Men jostled to get forward, but could not reach in time. The sword fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Ye are nae gonnae win, wee man," glared Bruce. Ainslee"s stomach churned. Chaos was erupting, but no-one seemed to be able to get near. Men jostling the crowd were pressed back by the keep"s guards.

Marisse tried pleading, to one of them, a curly haired lad. He did not budge, but she kept his attention long enough for Ainslee to come closer. Now she was near the front, just by where the sword had fallen. It lay, tantalizing her by her foot.

In a flash, she had pulled it up, stashing it quickly beneath her shawl. Then, she pushed forwards, trying her hardest to get to the fray, But something blocked her; James.

Looking up, his face towered over hers.

"Here," she said, placing the sword in his hands. "Quickly!"

James needed no more prompting, In seconds he was at Bruce"s throat.

"Ye miserly worm!" he hissed, pressing the new blade deep into him. Bruce gasped in shock, and fell away. This time, James took no chances, tying him securely with a rope.

Finally, Ainslee rushed to Mal, who squeezed her tenderly.

"Ladies an" gentlemen," announced James, holding Malcolm"s arm in the air. "I give ye, yer new laird, Malcolm Duncan!"

Confused shouts turned to loud cheering. Ainslee turned to Mal, hugging him hard. An outbreak of shouting thronged in the air. Malcolm"s eyes twinkled and led Ainslee away by the hand.

"I told ye I would do it!" he said, putting his arms around her. Ainslee caught his scent, and leaned down into it. She felt her emotions ignite.

Then, Malcolm smiled. Taking her hand, he asked her; "Noo how do ye fancy a tour o" the laird"s private quarters?"

Ainslee held tightly onto him, her head a confused mixture of noise and joy. The way she felt, she never wanted to let him go.

"Aye, I"d like that verra much..."