Prologue

PROLOGUE

Gavin Forsyth turned over in his bed and muttered irritably in his sleep as he heard the handle of his bedroom door being rattled, but when someone outside started to thump on it furiously, he yelled, “For god’s sake, stop that! Who’s there?”

At that moment, the door burst open with a bang and a red-faced, breathless figure shot through it. “Gavin! Ye must get out o’ bed an’ run for your life! They are comin’ tae kill ye!” It was Archie Carmichael, his Captain of the Guard and his best friend.

Gavin flipped his blankets off and leapt out of bed, alarmed by the usual calm and unflappable man’s panic and fear. He grabbed Archie by his upper arms.

“Who is coming to kill me, Archie?” he asked fearfully.

However, Archie was determined; he had no time for conversation. “Ye must run, M’Laird! Get somethin’ tae wear an’ some money, then get out through the closest tunnel. They dinnae know where some o’ them are.”

Gavin hesitated for a moment. He would have challenged his friend’s words, but as he listened to the distant clamour of clashing arms and the roar of men's voices, he realised that he was in mortal danger. It was only as he began to throw on his clothes that he noticed that Archie was covered in blood.

“What happened to you?” he demanded.

“It is only a wee scratch,” the man replied, although the expression on his face said otherwise. “Never mind about me.” He went to Gavin’s armoire and pulled out a cloak and a couple of warm jackets, then stuffed them into his master’s satchel.

Gavin had grabbed a pouch of coins and stuck it into the pocket of his breeches before putting on his boots. He had no idea how much it contained, but at that moment he had no way of reaching the strong room where the riches of the castle were kept. He would have to hope there was enough for his needs, whatever they might be.

“Who is coming to kill me?” he demanded, frowning. He was still half-asleep, and his mind was fuzzy, but as the impact of Archie’s words sank in, fear began to seep into his heart—cold and paralysing. He was not the kind of man who usually backed down from a challenge, but this sounded deadly.

“The clan elders,” Archie replied grimly. “I should have known about this an’ protected ye, M’Laird, but I had nae inklin’ o’ it. They arenae far away, but I have left your horse outside the gates. Ride him for half a mile an’ somebody will meet ye wi’ a cart an’ take ye tae Carmalcolm. Ye should be safe there. But remember, ye must keep out o’ sight so that everybody thinks ye’re dead. None o’ this lot must know ye are still alive.”

“But why do they want to do such a thing?” Gavin was appalled. “I have done nothing to deserve this!”

His first instinct had been to run out and confront his enemies; he was horrified that he would have to go to such extremes just to stay safe.

“And what will happen to you?” Gavin asked.

He was fearful, since Archie was more than just the Captain of the Guard; they had been friends since they were both ten years old. Gavin was not a man who cared about many people, but for various reasons, Archie was one of the few.

Just then, they heard the discordant chorus of men’s voices had become much louder as they drew closer to Gavin’s chamber. It was obvious that they were coming for him. He thought of hiding under the bed or in the wardrobe, then realised that they were the first places they would look for him.

There was only one more thing he could do, but again, he hesitated. He was not normally so considerate to his guards and servants—in fact, most of them despised him—but Archie was different.

“I have to flee,” Gavin said desperately, “but I cannot leave you here. God knows what they are capable of.” He could hear his voice trembling with anger as he spoke.

“Go, there is no time to go through the closet now,” Archie said impatiently as he opened the window so that Gavin could climb out. He cast a quick glance back at the door. “I will keep them busy for a while an’ you get away.”

“Make sure you do.” Gavin said grimly. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”

“I cantake care o’ mysel’,” Archie growled. “Good luck, M’Laird.”

He closed the window behind Gavin, making sure that his master was standing firm and upright on the sill, and Gavin heard the shouting and banging as they set about trying to give Archie the beating they thought he deserved. However, he knew that the Captain of the Guard was as tough as saddle leather, and he would defend himself to the death.

Gavin wished he could go back and set about them with his broadsword, but he had other things to worry about at that moment. He had shuffled sideways on the sill, and now only a few inches of brick and plaster separated him from falling to his death. His bedchamber was on the first floor of the castle, but still about thirty feet from the ground. Using one of the escape tunnels was now impossible, so the only way he could escape was by clinging to the tendrils of ivy that covered the stonework of the castle wall like a second skin.

Gavin looked down at the ground briefly, and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. He was putting off the evil moment when he would have to trust his weight to the fragile tendrils of ivy. However, he knew that putting off the inevitable would not make it any easier. He tossed his bundle of belongings onto the ground, then took a deep breath and reached sideways to grasp one of the thicker stems.

Gavin’s vivid imagination, fuelled by fear, visualised the ground reaching up to smash into him, but he forced himself to cling to the ivy, having no other choice. When he put his left foot into a tangle of stems, he felt them giving way slightly and froze in fear, terrified to go on.

Yet, he knew that if he stayed where he was he would fall down eventually, so he forced himself to move downwards inch by inch, then jumped the last six feet to the ground. He landed on his feet, but fell down and rolled over to lie with his heart thumping for what felt like an eternity before standing up. He had never been so afraid in his life, but he had accomplished something he had never thought himself able to do.

In a strange way, he felt proud of himself. However, it was no time to pat himself on the back. Soon, the enemy would be swarming all over the grounds like too many ants; he had to make his escape.

Gavin began to creep around the castle wall towards the side that was closest to the stables. There was no moat on Duncairn Castle, but the curtain wall was almost twenty feet high to deter invaders. Unlike the inner walls, he had climbed this one many times over the years, and it was only a matter of moments before he was scrambling down to find his trusted mount.

Archie had placed his horse, a coal-black stallion named Sable, close to the highest part of the wall. It had some thick brush growing next to it, in such a way that anyone looking directly downwards could not see him.

Sable had been Gavin’s horse since he was a foal, and they understood each other so well that the stallion always obeyed his master’s instructions without hesitation. Now he waited patiently while Gavin mounted, and they set off, keeping to the shadows as much as they could. Fortunately, this was not difficult; since it was still night, Sable blended into the dark until he was almost invisible.

Presently, Gavin saw a light under the trees, and they moved towards it.

“M’Laird!” a voice called. The figure held up the lantern, and Gavin saw that it was one of the stable hands, the lanky eighteen-year-old Jerry MacKay. “I was sent tae get ye an’ take ye tae Carmalcolm.”

Gavin dismounted from Sable, who was his most beloved companion in the whole world. His heart ached to say goodbye to him, but he knew he had to, and he was glad that Jerry could not see the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He patted the horse’s nose and whispered a farewell.

“Get me there as fast as you can,” Gavin said stiffly, climbing up onto the farmer’s cart Jerry had brought.

As soon as they were out of sight of the sentries, Jerry speeded up a little, although it was impossible to make any kind of speed in the pitch dark. Gavin was incredibly confused, frightened and desperate to know why he had been evicted from his home in such a brutal manner.

As well as that, he was concerned about Archie. They were so close that Gavin had asked him not to use his title when addressing him after he inherited the Lairdship, but he had shaken his head and refused, and nothing would change his mind.

“No, M’Laird,” he had said firmly. “We will aye be friends, but we cannae be wee boys like we were before. You are the leader now, an’ ye have responsibilities, burdens tae shoulder. The men under your command will no’ be pleased if ye have favourites.”

Gavin and Jerry plodded on through the night. There was only half a moon to light their way, so it was slow-going, and the fact that it was absolutely freezing did not help at all. Gavin knew that he still had at least five miles to go, and the fastest pace the carthorse could manage was a walk. At this rate, he would not reach Carmalcolm before early afternoon.

It was late October, and the nights were becoming longer and longer. Soon daylight would not appear till very late in the morning, but if he was obliged to go slowly, then so would anyone who was following. The thought gave him a sliver of comfort, but when he thought about his eviction from the castle, he felt a smouldering mixture of anger and bewilderment.

What right did anyone have to turf him out of his home? And for what reason? None of it added up, and Gavin’s head began to throb as he tried to make sense of it. Dawn broke very slowly, and the deep grey of the cloudy night sky gradually turned to a lighter tone of the same shade, heralding the day.

The colour matched Gavin’s mood as they went on. Rage soured his stomach; he felt sick with it, and vowed revenge on those who had taken away what was his.

Presently, the lie of the land told him that he was near Carmalcolm, and soon he saw the huddle of small cottages that made up the village. With half a mile to go, he instructed Jerry to stop.

“I will walk from here.” He reached for his sack of belongings and was just about to jump down from the cart when Jerry said suddenly, “Wait a minute.”

Gavin looked back at him, startled to see that there was no deference or fear in the boy’s face. Instead, he looked angry.

“I want tae be paid for my time,” he demanded, “or I will tell them where ye are an’ that ye forced me tae take ye there.”

Gavin was outraged. “How dare you! I am your Laird. I put food in your mouth and a roof over your head!”

The young man laughed cynically. “No’ any more, ye’re no’!” he pointed out. “Now ye are just a stranger on the road, an’ ye cannae bully us any more. So pay me.”

In the dim light, Gavin could see the smug look on the boy’s face.

He glared at Jerry, but seeing that he had no alternative, Gavin plunged his hand into his money pouch and pulled out a few coins, which he slapped into Jerry’s hand. The young man gave him a smug smile.

“Thank ye, Gavin,” he said with deliberate disrespect. If things had been normal, Jerry would not have dared to address the Laird by his first name.

However, they were not, and Gavin was powerless as he watched the wicked glee on Jerry’s face. Gavin tossed him a venomous look as he turned away and began to stride towards the village without looking back. He knew that the boy could break his word and betray him anyway, but he could do nothing about that.

When Gavin was some distance away, Jerry counted the money he had been given and raised his eyebrows in astonishment, then laughed heartily. This was his reward for putting up with his rude, arrogant Laird for so long!