"Please, go and sit down," Gillian ordered Bridgid.
She wanted her out of harm's way, and Bridgid didn't have to be told twice. She backed away from Edwin and then hurried to a chair against the far wall. Her heart was pounding from fear and shame because she realized now that she was far more of a deterrent than a help to Gillian. Too late she understood what her friend had meant when she'd told Proster that if he went with her, the baron would use him to get what he wanted.
"This is between you and me, Alford," Gillian said. "It began in this hall, and it will end here. I know where the treasure is hidden, and I'll show you where it is as soon as Uncle Morgan and my sister are given safe passage out of here. I suggest you bring my uncle to me as quickly as possible, for I will not tell you anything more until I see for myself that he is well. Do we understand each other?"
"Did you notice, Edwin, that she doesn't ask safe passage for herself?"
His friend nodded, and realizing he wasn't going to get Bridgid upstairs now, he rejoined Hugh at the table. Reaching for the jug of wine, he called out, "Why didn't she include herself?"
"Because she knows I will never let her go." He stepped closer to Gillian and said, "You and I have been playing our game for years now, and one of us must lose. I swear to you the day will come when I will break that spirit inside you and you will learn to cower in my presence."
A shout disrupted his train of thought, and the brute came running into the hall pulling another soldier along in his wake.
"You know better than to interrupt, Horace," the baron snarled at the brute.
"We have good cause," he called out. "You'll want to hear this, milord." Turning to the soldier, he commanded, "Tell him, Arthur."
The pock-faced soldier nodded, swallowed loudly, and then blurted, "We have just returned… We went to Baron Morgan Chapman's holding to fetch him here for you, milord, just as you ordered, but when we-"
Alford cut him off. "You were told to go to my home first."
"Yes, milord, but it seemed quicker to us if we-"
"Did you bring me my favorite cloak?"
The question seemed too difficult for the soldier to understand. Horace shoved him. "Answer your baron," he commanded.
Arthur frantically shook his head. "No… no, we didn't think to look for your cloak."
"Where's Morgan?" Alford demanded then. "Bring him inside."
"I can't, milord. I can't. You don't understand what's happened. We went to his estate, and it was… empty. They're gone. All of them gone."
"What are you stammering about? Who's gone?"
"The soldiers," Arthur wailed, terrified because he knew that when the baron was given bad news, he often lashed out at the messenger. Stepping back to put some distance between them, he continued, "Morgan's home was empty and your soldiers have vanished."
"What do you mean, they've 'vanished'?" he roared.
Arthur cringed when he saw the murderous rage in the baron's eyes. "I'm telling you the truth. The men have vanished. The holding was completely empty, milord, and there was no sign of attack or struggle. Not a chair or a stool was overturned, and we couldn't find any arrows or blood anywhere. It's as though they all just got up and walked away."
"Where is my Uncle Morgan?" Gillian demanded.
"Silence," Alford shouted. "What did the servants tell you happened?" he asked Arthur.
"There were no servants there, milord. The place was deserted I tell you. We decided then that the soldiers must have gone to your home and taken the servants with them and that you had ordered them to do so."
"I gave no such order," Alford muttered, his anger barely controlled. "And they will pay with their lives for leaving their posts, every last one of them."
Horace cleared his throat and said, "There is more for you to hear, Baron."
Alford squinted at Arthur. "Well?" he snapped when the soldier stood there quivering in his boots.
"We rode like lightning to your holding, milord, but when we got there, the drawbridge was down… and it was the same. Not a soldier was there."
"What say you?" Alford screeched.
"Your home was deserted."
"And the servants?"
"They, too, had vanished."
Alford became rigid. "My own men dare to desert me? Where could they have gone? Where?" he bellowed. "I will know who is responsible for this…" He suddenly stopped ranting. His head snapped up and he whirled to confront Gillian. "What do you know about this?"
"I know only what I have just heard."
He didn't believe her. He reached for his dagger at his waist, realized it was on the table, and went to get it. Then he slowly, deliberately walked back to her and held the blade in front of her face.
"I'll slice your throat, you bitch, if you don't tell me the truth. Where are my soldiers?"
"I don't know," she answered. "Would you like me to guess?"
He pressed the point of the blade against the side of her neck, a look of perverted pleasure in his eyes as he deliberately pricked her skin. He took yet another step closer to her and then froze, slowly looking down at the knife Gillian had pressed against his belly.
"Shall we find out whose blade is quicker?" she whispered.
He jumped back. "Seize her," he shouted to Horace.
Bridgid jumped up and ran to Gillian, but Horace saw her coming and shoved her aside. He grabbed Gillian's arm and tried to snatch the weapon away from her. She cut him twice in the palm of his hand before he was able to get the knife.
"I know what happened to your soldiers," Bridgid shouted.
"Move back, Horace," Alford ordered.
Shaken, Alford poured himself a drink, then turned and leaned against the table's edge. "Tell me what happened to them."
"They're dead," Bridgid answered. "All of them. Did you think you could take a child from a powerful laird and not suffer the consequences?" Gripping her hands together, she laughed. "You're next. You and your friends."
Edwin scoffed. "They won't come to the heart of England. They wouldn't dare."
"Yes," Hugh agreed. "If it was the Highlanders, they've gone back home by now. They've certainly finished-"
"Oh, they've only just begun," Gillian called out. "They don't care about gold or treasures. They want the three of you, and they won't stop until you're dead."
"She speaks lies," Horace shouted. "The Highlanders are savages, and our soldiers are vastly superior."
Gillian laughed. "Then pray tell, where are they?"
"How many soldiers do you have posted along the perimeter?" Hugh asked.
"Whatever the number, perhaps you should double the guards. One cannot be too cautious," Edwin interjected.
Alford shrugged at their worries. "If it will please you, I will double the guard. See to it, Horace," he commanded. "No one can get into this holding. I've made it impenetrable. Why, I've over two hundred men here, all hand-picked and all loyal to me. Add their number to the soldiers who escorted the two of you, and we are an invincible force."
"There were forty men who rode with me," Hugh said.
"Twenty-two came with me," Edwin said.
"So you see? We have nothing to fear."
The commander had only just left the hall when he came racing back. "Milord… you have company coming."
"Who is it?"
"My God, it's the heathens?" Edwin shouted.
"Nay, Baron, it's not the heathens. It's the king himself and a full contingent of soldiers. The watch spotted their banner, milord, and the drawbridge has been lowered."
Alford was astounded. "John is here? The king of England is at my door?"
"Aye, Baron."
"How many soldiers do you suppose ride with him?" Alford asked.
"The watch reported near to sixty or seventy men."
Alford snorted. "So my troops outnumber his," he remarked.
Hugh laughed. "You always try to outdo him, don't you?"