Page 14 of Flanders’ Folly (The Curse of Clan Ross #7)

14

THE LOVE OF GOOD MEN

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"E asy,” Robert whispered, then extended a hand. “Ye’re the last?”

Flanders nodded, all but speechless with relief. “Where is she?”

His friend pointed north and they crouched and ran. The women had gathered beneath the wall walk and moved west along it with a handful of rescuers. In a quiet, but steady line, they followed Wolfy’s father. And above them, guards moved back and forth, their attention on the hills beyond.

Brigid was waiting for him. At the same time he reached for her hand, she reached for his and together, they joined the end of the column. With the mere connection of their hands, his body filled with a sort of wholeness that warmed him all the way to his frozen ears.

He knew where they were headed. The postern gate—a small, obscured door—was built into a jog in the palisade wall. He'd used it himself many times when he’d wanted inside the fort while avoiding whatever unsavory visitor stood at the front gates.

A lifetime ago, when the crown was secure in The Bruce’s hands, James ruled Todlaw, Robert was yet a child, and Flanders was free to roam Scotland in search of exceptional lasses. Back then, he’d been welcome to stop at Gallabrae for a meal and a warm bed…

It hadn’t always been the dreary shambles it was now.

They moved smoothly through the darkness like a large family of mice sneaking along beneath an owl’s nose. When the opening of the postern produced a tiny squeak, they all froze.

"Who goes there?" A man looked over the walk just ten feet away. With no rail on the inside, it would be an easy thing to tip him off the edge…

Just ahead of him and Brigid, the man helping Gerts carried a coil of rope on his shoulder. Flanders took it from him and moved toward the guard, making a loop as he went.

“Show yerselves or I’ll raise the alarm!”

Flanders stepped out of the shadows and threw the loop high. It caught on the guard’s pith helmet and his shoulder, and Flanders pulled him over. He landed on the ground and lost his breath. Before he could catch it again, Robert knocked him unconscious with a hilt to his head, which, unfortunately, made more noise than expected.

No one moved. And though they waited, no one came to investigate. So, the parade continued. Wolfy's father held the gate open while each of them slipped through. There was a fifty-foot stretch of open ground between the wall and the nearest shrubbery that then extended to the forest. But, thanks to the sliver of new moon, off to the west now, the shadow of the trees made for a mottle of dark on dark. Even from above, it would be difficult to pick out movement.

The escapees crossed the expanse in twos and threes. When everyone was safely in the woods, and only he, Brigid, and Robert remained, they held back and waited for the passing of yet another sentry. Soon, he would wonder where his fellow had gone.

“Now,” Robert whispered, and led the way.

He and Brigid followed, their hands clasped so tight they might never get them apart again.

The taste of the cool night air helped chase away the dank smells of the pit, and Flanders filled his lungs with it. His chilled bones and body had warmed nicely, and the prospect of morning was now a joyful one. At least now, they had a chance.

The women moved with purpose, following a path they seemed to know. Robert brought up the rear, watching for pursuers. Flanders glanced back, now and then, just to be sure the fort was getting smaller, that they weren’t caught in a nightmare.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, the others paused in a clearing. And there, waiting in the shadows, were children and husbands. James had worried what leaving their families would mean to the women, but Wolfy’s father and the others must have had their rescue planned long before James had goaded him.

Reunions were silent but for the happy wails of the smallest children. Flanders watched, a lump in his throat, as families found their matriarchs again. Men held their wives with the same passion Flanders had felt when he’d located Brigid in the dugout.

Aye, the love of a good man for his woman had been a safe bet.

Robert moved to the center of the gathering and lifted his arms. "Todlaw welcomes ye all," he said, keeping his voice low but ensuring all could hear. "There's food and shelter a’ plenty, and neither man nor woman will suffer for speaking their minds."

Wide smiles widened further.

Mael waved from the far end of the path, holding the leads of their three horses. He warned, “We should move. Dawn isn't far off."

"We'll need to go quickly," Robert said. "Put the children on the horses."

As they prepared to leave, Flanders noticed Gerts standing apart from the others, her face troubled.

He went to her. "What troubles ye?"

She sighed heavily. "Hector is a monster, aye. But I hate to leave him at the mercy of that snake."

Flanders raised an eyebrow. "I thought ye wished Hector dead.”

“Auch, I did. I do. But…this seems cruel. The past sennight, he’s been a pitiable bairn betimes…”

“A bairn wouldn’t have sent ye to the pit. A bairn wouldn’t let ye burn.”

“True. True.” She seemed no more relieved.

“Come to Todlaw, my friend. Come and rest. And we shall decide what to do about yer husband after ye’ve regained yer strength. Despite what happens to him, we cannot leave the rest of yer people to Heslington in any case. He has a history of allowing people to starve.”

Gert nodded, satisfied for the moment at least.