Page 56 of Highland Guard

“And how do ye think ye can make such a decision? And why would ye want to?”

“One can always use another mon in a fight such as we are facing but I think ye may have a skill we have a particular need for. First, I need to ken why ye have no clan name. Ye were outlawed?”

“Nay, just tossed out of the clan. Laird said any of them could kill me without fear of punishment, though few would even try, but I am nay outlawed.”

“What did ye do?”

“Put an arrow through the arm of the laird’s son. Bastard was beating on a wee lad and ye could see he wouldnae stop ’til he had killed the boy. He had that look, ye ken.”

Harcourt nodded. “So, ’tis true. Ye are an archer.”

“Aye, though the lad took my bow and all. Only got a sword and a knife or two from, er, collecting them as I wandered about.”

“Did ye kill for them, Geordie?”

“Killed only one mon because he had the urge to kill me.”

“What are ye doing with Sir Adam then, for I have heard naught yet to mark ye as one of his ilk.”

“Mon has to eat, doesnae he. Only skill I have is fighting. Once my laird made me a broken mon I couldnae just walk o’er and join another clan’s fighting men. Jaikie took me along with him when he decided to sell his sword.”

“But ye didnae tell them ye were an archer?”

“Didnae have my bow but I had a sword.”

“How good an archer are ye?”

“Weel, I havenae seen too many better than me, but a lot who be worse.”

For reasons Harcourt suspected he could never adequately explain that not quite humble statement decided him. “Weel, best we get ye cleaned up and give ye a bow then,” he said as he unlocked the cell.

“Ye are done deciding then?” Geordie asked, stepping cautiously out of his cell as if he expected a hasty killing rather than freedom.

“They have verra skilled archers. Near twenty of them. I have about a dozen adequate ones.” He watched as Roban unfolded himself from the cot, jumped down, and sauntered over to them, only to walk out of the open cell through the bars.

“He does that to taunt me,” grumbled Geordie.

“How does that cursed animal still get into these places?”

“He comes out of there,” said Geordie, pointing to the storage room across from his cell.

“It! ’Tis a cat, nay a person,” snapped Harcourt as he grabbed the torch from the wall outside Geordie’s cell and followed the cat.”

“’Tis a he-cat, isnae he? Got balls. Makes it a he.”

Harcourt sighed. “Calling an animal a name or he or she makes it more than just something to keep the rats out of the meal or put in a stew and that leads to trouble.” He ignored Geordie’s chuckle.

The cat slipped around an odd stack of old trunks. Harcourt looked at the torch he held and saw the flame move as if there was a breeze in the cellars. He moved closer to the wall, looked behind the trunks, and then swore. There was a door there and whoever had used it last had not shut it all the way thus giving Roban a way in. Somewhere at the end of the passage would be another opening and Harcourt needed it shut.

“I believe we have just found one of the tunnels David used to leave the keep for a tryst. He was a randy fellow cursed with overly pious parents.” He handed Geordie the torch. “Ye go first.”

“Ah, and here I thought ye trusted me.”

“Nay,” he said as he followed Geordie into the passage. “I need an archer. Need doesnae require trust. That takes longer.”

At a few places they had to bend a little to clear the ceiling, but it was a sturdy, well-built tunnel in all other ways. It curved upward near the end leading to a set of stone steps. Harcourt got to the top, moved up next to Geordie who had opened a rough slat door, and looked into the stables. One of the slats was broken at the bottom, leaving just enough room for Roban to come and go as it pleased. He stepped farther inside the stable, startling Dunnie so badly the man fell back against one of the stall doors.

“Where did ye come from, sir?” asked Dunnie as he struggled to compose himself.