Chapter 16
Cat And Mouse
“What do ye have for me?” Ragnall asked Eric.
He was back in his chair, staring down at his man-at-arms, who was leaning against the large table.
“We dinnae have him yet, but I do have good news,” Eric replied.
“I can do with that.”
Ragnall found the piles of maps on the table to be humorous. Eric had studied them so much that he likely knew the lay of the land better than anyone in Scotland.
Eric could not be described as an educated man and had only learned to read when he was twenty-five. He had not once picked up a book, but he spent hours with his nose almost touching the maps as he scoured the country for Fraser.
Some day, Ragnall would share a proper drink with Eric and hear him belt out a tune. The only drinks they shared at the moment were ones to drown their collective sorrows.
“From the reports I’m hearin’, he’s losin’ support all over,” Eric began. “It’s been a long time, and nay one is loyal to Clan Sutherland anymore. Some are loyal to Fraser, but only those who have caused trouble for their own clans. They’re startin’ to see how short the average life span is when in Fraser’s company. And they all ken he will leave them for dead if he can save his own skin. The promise of a castle and a new clan was all well and good, but that dream is becomin’ a nightmare.”
“That is good news,” Ragnall agreed. “What does that mean for us?”
“Could be good or bad,” Eric replied. “I’m hearin’ conflictin’ reports. Some say he will soon mount a last-ditch attack to take ye on, and others say he is headed toward the border and willnae be back.”
“He might be tryin’ to draw some of our forces to the south to mount an attack up here,” Ragnall pointed out.
“Aye, or there could be truth in the rumor,” Eric countered.
“If he does cross the border, I willnae stop chasin’ him,” Ragnall said.
“Aye, I ken ye willnae,” Eric replied with a sigh. “I advise ye to think of the clan, Me Laird. I want him dead too, but ye have to put the clan first.”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Ragnall said, not truly knowing what he would do.
“If I can flush him out, I will, but for now, I have our men stationed in the surrounding villages, and there are more men on the way from Clan Gallacher.”
“Thank ye, Eric. I’ll leave ye to yer maps,” Ragnall said.
Eric nodded and turned back to the table.
Ragnall left the room and headed toward the back of the castle, where the armory was. He had sent a message to Holly and hoped to find her there.
Ragnall greeted the castle blacksmith as he strode through the armory. Brodgar hammered the thick piece of molten metal on the anvil before sticking it back into the hot coals. His father had worked for Ragnall’s father before the castle had been attacked by Clan Sutherland. Ragnall and Brodgar had never spoken of it, but the Laird got the impression that Brodgar made weapons with the hope one of them would be used to kill the last of Clan Sutherland.
The Laird eventually stepped out into the small courtyard. It was only accessible from the armory, and tall stone walls surrounded it on all sides.
Holly was pacing on the other side of the courtyard.
Ragnall looked up at the square of blue sky above, watching as a blackbird flew east. It disappeared, leaving an unblemished azure.
“I hope ye didnae wait long,” he shouted.
“Nay, nae very long.”
“Did ye bring the dirk?” Ragnall asked.
Holly held up the sheathed weapon as if afraid of the blade.
Ragnall had not only fought in the castle against Clan Sutherland when they took it back, but he had been involved in a few skirmishes before that for his father. There was always fighting amongst the clans, but that had stopped for Clan MacPherson when Ragnall retook the castle. It was as if everyone felt sorry for him and did not want to kick him when he was down. The only fighting he had done in the last ten years was fending off the attacks from Fraser.
That had been easy enough in comparison, but each fight brought more frustration. It felt like a loss each time he fought and Fraser got away.
“Let’s start with yer stance,” he began. “How would ye stand if ye were fightin’?”
“I dinnae ken,” Holly admitted. “I never fought afore.”
“All right, try this.” Ragnall shifted into position. “Keep yer feet shoulder-width apart and yer knees slightly bent. That way, ye can pivot back and forth as needed, and ye can react quickly to an attack. A dirk is an offensive and defensive weapon. Let me see.”
He placed his hand on his wife’s shoulders and pushed her gently.
“Nae bad,” he said. “Yer stance is good.”
Holly smiled slightly. If Ragnall didn’t know any better, he might suspect his wife was enjoying herself even if she did not like weapons.
“Now,” he continued, “I could tell ye all about how a dirk is a weapon that requires speed, skill, and precision, but ye arenae gettin’ ready to fight in a war. All ye need to think about is how to defend yerself and how to attack. The attack part is easy, and I want ye to unsheathe yer dirk first and feel its weight in yer hand.”
Holly did as she was told, drawing the small weapon and dropping the sheath to the ground. The blade was clean and shiny, the metal pale but reflecting and refracting some light. The handle was made of simple maple wood with a metal stamp on one side.
Holly loosened and tightened her grip, familiarizing herself with the weapon. She did not look out of place wielding it.
“Ye can do a lot of damage with a dirk when ye get close to an enemy, and ye can use its small size to yer advantage.”
Ragnall pivoted left and right, slashing up and down with the dirk in both directions. Holly watched in fascination.
“I dinnae want ye to waste any time with what I can do. All ye have to think about when ye attack is hittin’ yer target and gettin’ away. So, ye dinnae want to strike downward, or else ye’ll give them the best opportunity to block ye. All ye want to do is aim for the stomach. One quick motion, and then ye run. Like this.”
Ragnall demonstrated the move for Holly, gripping his dirk, keeping his arm hanging down, and then moving forward and using his elbow to thrust the blade.
“That’s it,” he said. “One strike, and then ye run.”
“Like this?” Holly asked, tentatively swinging the dirk forward.
“Come over here,” Ragnall said, taking her arm. He led her to one of the straw dummies that vaguely resembled a human torso. He placed her in front of it and moved behind her, pressing his body against her. He reached down and took her wrist. “Like this.”
He thrust her forward, sticking the blade through the burlap and straw.
“Ye cannae hesitate when the time comes,” he pressed.
“Show me again,” Holly demanded.
Ragnall took her wrist again, thrusting it forward and plunging the blade into the dummy. He felt her body rub against his, and he had to step back. No matter how much he wanted that, he needed to ensure she was safe first.
“Now, ye show me,” he said.
Holly stabbed the dummy, but not as she had been shown. She looked afraid of the fake enemy.
“Harder,” Ragnall demanded.
Holly thrust again.
“Harder!” Ragnall said more sternly.
Holly slammed the dirk into the dummy.
“Good,” the Laird praised. “Much better. If ye are bein’ attacked, and ye get the chance, stick the blade in yer attacker, pull it out, and run for yer life.”
Holly turned away quickly. When she didn’t turn back, Ragnall went to her and held her shoulders. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Are ye all right?” he asked softly.
“I dinnae want to fight anyone,” Holly replied, her voice shaking. “I’ll just stay in me room until ye deal with Fraser.”
“I willnae let him get to ye,” Ragnall promised her. “This is only a last resort. Ye willnae need to do it, but havin’ the confidence that ye can will benefit ye.”
He did worry that she would have to do it. He could be with her much of the time, but if Fraser somehow slipped past him, he needed to know Holly could protect herself. If Fraser somehow killed him, he had to be sure Holly and any potential heir would be safe. That was all that mattered.
He did not want to force her into fighting, but he had to ensure she was ready.
Ragnall kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, just a wee bit more. I ken this is all new, but everyone in the clan should ken how to fight. I promise that ye willnae have to stab anyone.”
“All right,” she sighed.
Ragnall hoped it was a promise she could keep.
“So, most people who wield a dirk or any type of blade will slash with it. I willnae teach ye how to block everythin’, as it is little use against a trained fighter. The best thing to do is to jump back until ye have a chance to run or stab. That’s why ye need a good stance in the first place. Now, pretend I’m a fierce warrior comin’ at ye.”
Ragnall slashed with his dirk, taking it slow and easy. Holly leaped back with every swing, evading the blade.
“Very good.” Ragnall nodded. “Now, the best defense against someone trying to stab ye, either underhand or overhand, is to make an ‘X’ with yer arms. Stick yer forearms together like this, and use that to stop a swingin’ arm. Let’s try it with me swingin’ me arm up.”
Ragnall brought his dirk up slowly, and Holly crossed her arms before her, stopping him from getting the blade close.
“Aye, very good. Now, ye can take the chance to stab me.”
Holly shifted her weight and brought the dirk toward Ragnall’s stomach.
“Perfect,” he said with a smile. “Now, with me comin’ at ye with an overhand attack.”
Ragnall lifted his arm and brought his blade down. Holly crossed her forearms again and blocked the attack. This time, however, the force was a little too much, and she lost her balance. She swung her arms backward and tossed the dirk behind her.
Ragnall dropped his weapon and grabbed her arm, but the momentum was too much.
He caught her arm, and they both toppled over, Holly backward and Ragnall forward. He landed on top of her as she fell to the grassy earth.
“Oof!” Holly said as the wind was knocked out of her lungs.
“Are ye hurt?” Ragnall asked, looking down into her green eyes.
Holly took a deep breath. “Nay, I’m fine. I lost me breath for a moment, but I’m fine. Can we stop for a bit? I just need some time afore we do this again.”
“Aye,” the Laird said.
He could not bring himself to get up just yet, especially when he felt her soft curves below him. He wanted to protect her and teach her how to fight, but he also needed an heir, and he had been waiting to lie with her. He did not care who might see, he wanted to lie with her right there in the courtyard.
Ragnall leaned down and kissed his wife, and she did not refuse him. She kissed him back, and he felt like a man again. He had always been a man, but he had felt like a beast—as if his humanity had been stripped away. He had been dedicated to finding Fraser, but the kiss brought new dedication.
His tongue probed her lips and found hers. They licked at each other as they lay on the emerald grass below the azure sky. And for a brief moment in time, Ragnall forgot all of his problems.
“Oh, me goodness! I’m sorry, Me Laird, I didnae?—”
Ragnall rolled off his wife to see a footman carrying a small wooden box. He looked guilty for walking in on them, even though everyone had access to the courtyard as long as the blacksmith allowed them in.
“It’s fine,” Ragnall said, dusting himself off. “What do ye have?”
He reached down and took Holly’s hand, pulling her to her feet. She looked both ashamed and excited.
“It’s for Lady MacPherson,” the footman said. “It has just arrived.”
“What are ye expectin’?” the Laird asked.
“I dinnae ken,” Holly replied. “Perhaps me sisters have sent me somethin’.”
Ragnall gestured with his head, and the footman brought the box over, setting it at Holly’s feet. He bowed swiftly to the Laird and then scurried back into the castle.
Holly grinned wide. “I wonder what it is!”
She bent down and opened the box. As soon as she saw what was inside, she screamed and fell back onto her rear, crawling away from the box.
Ragnall witnessed the entire thing but still looked around, checking for danger before going to the box. He looked down into it and saw the cause of his wife’s terror.
Inside were three dead rats, their blood spilled all over the interior.
Ragnall closed the box quickly, so Holly would not see them again.
“Go to the kitchens,” he ordered. “Find Mirren and have her make some sweet tea to calm yer nerves.”
“Fraser sent it, did he nae?” Holly asked.
“Aye, I believe he did. This is comin’ to an end soon, Holly.”