The Price of Freedom by Carol Umberger Page A

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I only know marriage to Rodney is out of the question. I will not allow him to bully me, and I certainly won’t give him Homelea. I must cast my lot with Bruce and pray he will treat us fairly.”
    â€œCan’t be any worse than Lord Carleton.”
    They peered out the window slit at Bruce’s warrior.
    He bellowed once more. “Do you yield or not? If so, raise the portcullis. Now.”
    She shrank back and fear clutched Kathryn at the thought of what she was about to do. Had she simply traded one bully for another? Kathryn searched Fergus’s face. “Am I doing the right thing?”
    He nodded his agreement.
    She made an attempt to put her hair to rights, then walked to the window and called out, “You will not harm my people?”
    â€œI give you my word, lady. No one is to be harmed unless they take up weapons against me or my men.”
    â€œAnd my home? You won’t destroy it?”
    â€œThe castle belongs to my liege laird. To do with as he sees fit.”
    She hesitated, frightened for Homelea’s future. Bruce razed castles to the ground so they couldn’t be held against him again. But this wasn’t just a castle, it was a home. Surely he would spare her home. The people who depended on her would be safe as long as they didn’t defend Homelea, and she would be safe from Rodney Carleton, God willing.
    She nodded to Fergus, and he signaled the man at the gate. The portcullis chains groaned and clanked as the timbered gate slowly raised, placing Kathryn’s future in the hands of Robert the Bruce.
    And at the mercy of Bryan Dubh.
    THE SOUND OF A WOMAN’S SCREAM had unnerved Bryan. “By the heavens, what treachery passes in there?” Bryan Mackintosh muttered as he stared at his latest conquest. Wary of a trap, Bryan remained mounted, instructing the men who would enter the bailey with him to be vigilant. Only those with chain mail would accompany him until he was sure the woman meant to yield.
    His master at arms reined his mount to a stop beside Bryan. “They’ve withdrawn their archers from the walls. Looks as if they truly mean to yield.”
    â€œAye, so it does.”
    â€œIf the place is so poorly defended, why do you fear resistance?” his squire, Thomas, asked.
    Bryan gazed at the fortress. The sixth sense that had saved him more than once in battle bade him to be cautious. “Something is amiss. The woman yielded, but I have no idea who actually wields the power, her or Carleton.” Bryan calmed his horse as they awaited the slow progress of the lowering drawbridge. The countess should not have yielded without a fight and until he knew why she had, he would assume the worst.
    The gate finally stopped its ascent. With a last caution to Adam and Thomas, Bryan led the way. The horses’ hooves clomped upon the wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and they entered a courtyard. Bryan halted his horse while half a dozen men formed a defensive position around him. Each man faced his mount outward like the spokes of a wheel, three on each side. In short order and without resistance, the rest of Bryan’s well-disciplined troops disarmed Homelea’s defenders and secured the castle.
    Thus assured, Bryan dismissed his guards and gave his attention to the question of who was in command. Bryan couldn’t help the satisfied grin that creased his face at the sight of Rodney, held in the tight grip of two burly men at arms on the other side of the small bailey. An older man, the household steward by the quality of his clothing, stood next to them.
    Bryan urged his horse forward and halted in front of Rodney. “Lord Carleton, why has the countess restrained you like a common thief?”
    Carleton glared at him, dried blood marring his aristocratic nose. Someone had taken offense at Rodney. Bryan would like to hear more about the fight but it would have to wait until