Page 28 of The Bells of Triumph (Highlands’ Lost Valley #3)

27

TEARS IN THE TOWER

F oam gathered in the corners of his horse's mouth, but Seamus couldn't bring himself to care. He had to get to his mother before it was too late. He had to save her from any more agony brought on by Campbell.

Flora stayed by his side, riding just as recklessly fast as he was, while the rest of the Murray army traveled at a more reasonable pace behind them. It sounded like thunder rolling with the number of horses and riders heading for Drummond Castle.

Good. Maybe she can hear me coming.

Glancing over at Flora, he admired the determined set of her brow. She knew just how important this was to him and was willing to do whatever it took to make sure he got to see his mother again. She looked back at him, as though she could feel the weight of his stare, and that determination morphed into concern. Whether it was from his own expression or the fact that neither of them were paying attention to where they were riding when traveling this fast, he didn't know, but he loved her for it all the same.

“Seamus,” she called over the hammering hoofbeats.

He turned to look where she was pointing, and relief came crashing down over him. The ivy covered walls of Drummond Castle were in sight. With four towers facing each direction and a large wall built in between them, it was a menacing sight to anyone who didn't already have ownership of the castle. It would be devastating should Campbell get there first and reclaim his foothold. They couldn't allow that to happen.

Pushing faster and harder, they made it to the gate just as the few soldiers who had been left there managed to open the oversized wooden doors.

“Where is she?” Seamus called out to the shocked crowd of four or five servants who met them in the courtyard. “Where is my mother?”

He hadn't even bothered to dismount before he had asked his questions. Nor did he wait for a response before he jumped out of his saddle and took off sprinting toward the castle doors.

“In the west tower,” one of the women answered.

The sound of Flora's boots hitting the stone behind him let him know that she was there with him. He had nearly made it inside the castle before he skidded to a halt and turned back around.

“Campbell,” he explained to Flora at her silent question.

“We must tell them. We must help them to prepare.”

“Listen, everyone,” he called out, rushing through his orders. “We have word that Campbell will be descending on this castle at any moment. My men are close behind. They will help ye defend this castle. The village has already been cleared out in preparation for a battle. If ye are willing and able to fight, find something to defend yerself with. If ye are nae, get to the dungeons and hide. Dinnae come out until ye are sure that it is safe.”

As if his urgency were contagious, the courtyard became a flurry of activity. Minutes later, the rest of the Murray army poured into the courtyard as well. Horses were stashed while soldiers climbed to the ramparts, gathered their supplies, and secured the gates closed. Errik and Liam were standing at the center of it all, shouting orders. Finn and Connor worked together to arrange men inside the courtyard to ready themselves for a fight. Brid and Iona blew past Seamus and Flora, into the kitchen to start readying whatever they might need for after the battle was over.

The sound of windows being shuttered and furniture scraping against the stone floor to barricade weak points filled Seamus' ears. But all he could do was stand and watch. He wanted nothing more than to forget Campbell, forget this battle, and race upstairs to his mother. Everything in him was screaming to do just that. Yet, his feet stayed glued to the step, not moving, wanting to show his people that he was there to fight with them and for them.

“Seamus. Seamus!”

Flora's voice cut through the chaos going on inside him and all around him. He blinked a few times before looking at her.

“Go to her. I will see that this is taken care of.”

When Seamus didn't move, didn't drop the grip he hadn't realized he had on her hand, Flora repeated herself.

“Seamus, go see yer mother. Nay one will fault ye for wanting to see her after a lifetime apart. Ye dinnae ken how much longer ye have left with her. Errik and Liam have things in hand. It is all right.”

His throat went dry. Despite his urgency to get here, the way he rode like a madman, and sprinted through the courtyard, the idea of facing his mother alone was paralyzing. Even worse than that, Seamus couldn't fathom the idea of leaving Flora's side, not when he knew that Campbell was coming for them. Should he get to Flora, Campbell would unleash untold horrors on her, just to get at Seamus. The thought of it had him shaking his head in refusal,

“I cannae leave ye,” he croaked out.

“I will go with ye then,” she promised. “I will nae leave yer side.”

Finally, he agreed and the two of them disappeared into the castle, leaving the scrambling of the courtyard behind.

Seamus didn't stop to see the deteriorating state of the castle or the bare walls where Drummond had sold off things to fund his drinking habits. He didn't think of the man he had killed or the many that had died since then. He didn't notice the terrified expressions of the servants he passed nor did he count any of the steps on the five flights of stairs it took to reach the top of the tower. All he could think about was Flora's hand in his and seeing his mother.

“In there,” Flora pointed to a door that was left cracked open. “She must be in there.”

He paused only long enough to swallow his nerves and take a deep breath before he pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“Mother?” he called out.

The room was streaked with sunlight coming in through the open window. A chair was pulled up next to the edge of the bed where a table stood with a half-eaten bowl of mush, a pitcher, and a glass all waited. His eyes searched for her thick, brown hair, finding instead a soiled wet cloth draped over the back of the chair, blocking his view of the bed. He stepped inside the room a little more, only to find the covers tossed back and the bed empty.

“Mother?” he called out again, this time a little more frantic.

“Och, Seamus. There.”

Flora pointed to a heap on the floor just in front of the window. Seamus dropped Flora's hand and rushed over, with Flora close on his heels. Moving gently, he rolled the figure over only to find his mother's pale, gaunt face staring back at him. Her once thick brown hair had turned stringy and gray. It was nearly impossible to believe that this woman was indeed his mother. But as he collected her in his arms to bring back to the bed, her eyes fluttered open, and he saw the memory of her come back to life.

“Seamus? My son?”

Her voice shook as tears gathered in her eyes, hiding the deep brown orbs behind them. Seamus' blue eyes were just as hidden behind tears of his own. Even Flora was unable to stay unaffected by the emotions in the room.

Moving as softly as he could, Seamus carried his mother back to her bed and tucked her under the covers. He smoothed the blankets and then her hair, the same way she had done countless times for him when he was younger. She leaned into his touch, as though it was her lifeline. Judging from the blood coming through the bandage and staining her shift and sheets, he wasn't convinced that wasn't the case.

“What were ye doing on the floor?” he asked, sitting in the chair, picking up the cloth to wipe her brow.

“I-I heard horses. I thought it might be ye. But they were wearing Campbell's colors. This must be a dream.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, the idea too painful for her to keep her eyes open any longer. Seamus reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“It is nae a dream. I am here. But I came from the east, so ye would nae have been able to see me.”

Behind him, Flora moved to the window to check the view. Her face gave away when she saw what Caitria had seen; Campbell and his men quickly approaching. They didn't have much time to spare, but Seamus was determined to soak up every second he could get with his mother.

“Ye are truly here?” she asked, her hands searching his face, trying to convince herself that he was real.

“Aye, Mother. I am here.”

They leaned into each other, the heartache of a mother at long last coming to an end. Her breath was shallow and quick, but she seemed just as determined to make the most of the moments they had.

“Please forgive me, Seamus. Ye must ken how sorry I am. Please, say that ye will forgive me.”

Her pleadings were frantic, working her up into a breathless state. He needed to keep her calm and still if she was going to survive. She needed to rest, not worry about him.

“There is nothing to forgive ye for,” he answered in his most soothing voice.

“Seamus, please, forgive me for leaving ye. Ye must ken, surely ye must ken, that I never stopped thinking about ye. There was nae a single moment in any day that ye left my thoughts. I hated myself for allowing them to take me from ye. I should have fought for ye, I should have insisted that ye come with me. Could ye ever forgive me?”

The raspy weakness of her plea tugged at Flora's heart. She could only imagine how Seamus was feeling. It must have been overwhelming to hear his mother vie for his heart so earnestly. It was what he always wanted but did without. She had seen the way he had convinced himself that his mother didn't want him. To be told now, all these years later, that the opposite was true had to be a shocking revelation.

“Of course I forgive ye,” Seamus choked out. “There is nothing to forgive, really. Ye were every bit a captive as I was. But if ye feel as though ye need my forgiveness, it is yers.”

Caitria sobbed, the cries shaking her whole body, mumbling confessions of love over and over again. Seamus perched on the edge of his chair, doing all he could to hold her. Flora put a hand over her mouth to stop her own cries from sounding. It wasn't her moment to interrupt.

“What was that?” Caitria asked, her eyes nearly shut from the pain.

A loud bang echoed up through the walls, reverberating throughout Caitria's room. Flora rushed back to the window only to find Campbell's army slamming a battering ram into the wavering wood of the gate.

“Seamus,” Flora called out in warning.

The ram struck again. Her eyes turned to the gathering soldiers in the courtyard and those lined on the ramparts. She could barely make out Finn's arm swinging as he gave the order for the archers to unleash their arrows. The battle was beginning. They couldn't afford to stay any longer.

“Seamus,” she said again, this time turning.

It was then she realized that they couldn't afford to leave. Caitria's eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and thready. Seamus had given up on the chair and climbed into the bed beside her, holding her in his arms. From across the room, their eyes met, admitting what they both already knew; Caitria would never open her eyes again. The walls shook and the shouts of men filled the air, but Flora and Seamus stayed silent. She let him hold his mother until he was ready to let go. For a moment longer, Seamus studied his mother's face, as though he was trying to commit it to memory. When he looked back at Flora, the emptiness and grief there was almost too much to bear.

Stepping away from the window, Flora moved back to the bed. Seamus gently placed his mother on her pillow and slid out from beside her. He took great care to tuck in her blankets and brush her hair away from her face. Finally, he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. When he stood, tears streamed down his cheeks in silence. Flora stepped into him and clasped his cheeks in both hands, using her thumbs to brush away the tears.

“There are nay words,” she whispered, “to take away this pain. I wish that I could. I wish I could do something, anything to make this different. But there are nay words.”

“Ye are wrong, my love,” Seamus tells her, leaning into her touch. “I can think of three words that would make all of this much more bearable.”

She looked at him expectantly. As if he were putting on physical armor, Flora watched as Seamus tucked his emotions back inside and slipped into his role as Laird. When he answered her, he was no longer the boy who had just lost his mother, he was a great leader, ready to defend his people.

“Let's kill Campbell.”