Warriors: The Rose and The Warrior Part 11

"Oh." Gillian's disappointment was obvious.

"I am," said Patrick, trying to cheer Gillian up.

She put her arm around him. "Then we shall find you something to eat right after Laird MacKillon's announcement."

"When is he going to speak, anyway?" wondered Daniel impatiently. "I have to go practice my swordplay so I'll be able to fight the MacTiers when they come back."

Matthew regarded him with alarm. "The MacTiers are coming back?"

"Of course not," soothed Melantha, casting Daniel a warning look.

"In case they come back," Daniel amended, understanding that Matthew and Patrick were just babies and could not be expected to understand such grown-up matters.

Laird MacKillon rose slowly from his chair to address his people. "I know 'tis a terrible thing to rouse a body at this unG.o.dly hour of the morning-"

" 'Tis still night as far as I'm concerned," grumbled Thor.

"-but it is very important that everyone hears what Roarke has to say."

"Then let's hear it so we can go back to bed!" suggested Ninian.

The clan laughed.

"As you know, the attack by the MacTiers some months ago has left our holding in rather a bad way," continued Laird MacKillon. "And Roarke has brought it to my attention that we might not be able to defend ourselves should we be attacked again."

"Who would want to attack us?" wondered Gelfrid. "We've nothing left since the MacTiers stripped us of everything."

"I've got this worn pair of boots." Mungo raised his foot to wiggle his naked big toe. "Perhaps the greedy filchers will be back for them!"

Laughter rose once again from the clan.

"A vulnerable holding will draw an attacker," Roarke said with flat cert.i.tude. "There is always something to be gained, even if it is just a night of revelry and some food."

Uneasy silence fell over the courtyard.

"When the MacTiers attacked you the first time, they could not be sure if there were riches within these walls, or nothing more than a few rusted swords and some barrels of ale," he continued, regarding them seriously. "It didn't matter. Whatever they found was theirs for the taking, and it cost them virtually nothing. By now the tale of your effortless defeat has reached other clans, who one day may decide to ride over here and see what remains for them to acquire."

"You mean steal," corrected Ninian angrily.

Roarke shrugged. "Call it what you will."

"By G.o.d, if anyone dares attack us again, they'll feel the cold steel of my sword slit their belly!" shouted Thor. He braced his hand on the back of his chair and struggled to rise while lifting his heavy sword. Ultimately the effort proved too much, and he collapsed into the chair, dropped his sword, and dissolved into a fit of phlegmy coughing. "Ale," he gasped, motioning to young Keith.

The lad obligingly went running to fetch him his drink.

"Better bring a jug of it," Thor advised, thumping himself on his chest. "If this is my time, by G.o.d, I shall not go out in need of a drink!"

"If we're in danger of attack, what are we supposed to do about it?" demanded Gelfrid.

"The MacTiers slew some twenty-six of our bravest men, and tried to destroy our homes and reduce our castle to rubble," said Ninian. "We're less able to defend ourselves now than we were when they attacked the first time."

"But we won't be once we get the ransom for these prisoners and secure an alliance with the MacKenzies," Colin reminded them. He looked pointedly at Roarke. "That's why they're here."

"It is good that you plan to make alliances with other clans," said Roarke, ignoring the issue of his ransom. "But it is not enough. No invader is going to send you a missive detailing the day and time of his attack. You must be prepared to fend off an a.s.sault yourself, at least until you can get word to your allies and they are able to get here."

"That's a grand idea, laddie," said Magnus, smiling with approval.

"It's impossible," argued Ninian impatiently.

"Once an army gets in, we've no hope of defeating them," added Gelfrid.

"Of course we do!" roared Thor, much restored by the cup of ale he had just drained. "All we need do is hack off their heads, and toss them in a pile to be ground into bread!"

Laird MacKillon regarded him curiously. "Your pardon, Thor, but have you ever hacked off a man's head before?"

"Dozens of times," Thor boasted, patting his sword.

Laird MacKillon looked skeptical. "Didn't you find it rather a lot of work?"

"Not at all," Thor a.s.sured him. "Just like cutting a dumpling."

"You must focus your energies on preventing an attacking force from breaching the wall," continued Roarke, struggling for patience.

"But how?" asked Hagar. "The MacTiers appeared in the middle of the night, and were up the wall and waving their swords in our faces before we even knew what we were about."

"We had some fine, brave men keeping watch," Magnus added, "but it was dark and they couldn't see them until it was too late."

Roarke nodded. "Many clans prefer to attack a stronghold at night, knowing that the inhabitants are sleeping and they can use the cover of darkness to their advantage. What you need to do is establish a warning system, so that you are apprised when an aggressor is near and you can quickly prepare yourselves for defense."

Laird MacKillon looked at him blankly. "A warning system?"

Roarke nodded. "First, you must increase the number of guards you keep posted on the wall head to watch for anything unusual. Every pair of eyes helps. But in the dead of night it is difficult to see what is happening below. That is why you must set traps."

Magnus's brows knitted into a single white pelt. "Ye mean like for an animal?"

"Exactly," replied Roarke. "You will dig a series of pits around the base of the curtain wall. Each pit must be no less than twelve feet deep and ten feet across, with a covering of branches to hold the sod you will place over it. Eventually you should have a pit every twenty paces, but begin by placing one at each corner of the wall, adjacent to the towers. Most attackers will approach a castle wall at the sides rather than attempting to climb straight up the center. As they make their way toward the wall, a number of warriors will step on the covering for the pit and fall in, bellowing in fury as they go."

"And that's our warning!" said Magnus happily.

"It's very clever," Hagar admitted, "as it has the added benefit of reducing their numbers at the same time!"

"Even if we dig ten pits, we can't expect an entire army to fall into them," objected Colin, regarding Roarke with contempt. "That's not going to be enough to win a battle."

"No, it isn't," Roarke agreed, ignoring Colin's hostility. "And since your numbers are limited, you must employ more imaginative methods of retaliation. Methods that the notorious Falcon might use as she preys upon unsuspecting targets in the woods."

Melantha kept her expression contained. Was Roarke actually complimenting her technique?

"The Falcon's band is able to surprise its targets because they are the ones planning the ambush," Mungo pointed out. "It isn't the same as being attacked."

"Not the same at all," agreed Ninian.

"The principle of surprise remains the same," Roarke argued, "and that is what you are trying to do-surprise them and reduce their numbers. At worst you are eroding their confidence and shrinking their size. At best, you may cause them to reconsider their a.s.sault and retreat."

"The lad's right," said Magnus. "Many's the time the Falcon's band has attacked a group much larger than us. By the time we're through, we've stripped them of their possessions and have them quivering in their skins, wonderin' if we're goin'to let them live to see another day."

"You swore to me that you'd never slain anyone," objected Edwina.

"We haven't," Magnus admitted, "but our victims don't know that."

"I wanted to kill these MacTiers," said Finlay. He gave Roarke and his men a menacing look and spat on the ground.

"Good for you!" burst out Thor.

"Why didn't you?" Hagar wondered.

Finlay looked sheepish. "Melantha wouldn't let me."

The clan laughed.

"And it's a good thing she didn't," interjected Laird MacKillon, "or else we wouldn't have Roarke here today giving us these fine ideas. Tell us, lad, what other tricks did you have in mind?"

"My men and I have learned firsthand about the effectiveness of dropping nets," Roarke continued. "If you place nets above those chambers with easily accessible windows, you will be able to capture your intruders as they steal across the floor-quickly, quietly, and without bloodshed."

"A net is only good for capturing a few men," Mungo objected. "Our time would be better spent practicing our fighting rather than making nets."

"If they are used properly, the nets will do the work of twenty men," argued Roarke. "Lewis, I'm sure, can develop an effective system for quickly raising the net after the prisoners have been removed, so that it can be used again."

Lewis stared at him in shock.

"Does he mean our Lewis?" demanded Thor.

"I have some other ideas on which I would like to confer with Lewis," Roarke continued. "As you all know, he has an exceptionally quick mind when it comes to solving problems."

Lewis looked around uncertainly, as if he expected someone might laugh.

"I think he's talking about one of his own men," Ninian decided. "Probably that fancy one who keeps staring at the la.s.ses." He pointed to Donald.

"It is essential that everyone be a.s.signed a duty, and that you are thoroughly drilled in performing that duty," continued Roarke. "If you are attacked, each man, woman, and child must know exactly where they have to go and what they are to do. Practice curtails panic. You will be divided into groups, and your groups will rotate between training and other duties. One will train, one will work on the castle's defenses, one will produce an ample supply of weapons, and one will prepare food in case of a siege. Your battle with the MacTiers only lasted a day, but if your next attackers don't defeat you with similar alacrity, they may decide to linger awhile. You must make sure you have enough arrows and bread to maintain your defense."

"We'd have a lot more bread if MacKillon here would just let me slay you lot," grumbled Thor.

"I have some suggestions as to who might lead the training sessions," continued Roarke, consulting his notes.

"I'm happy to sharpen the men's skills with a bow," Magnus volunteered. "I'm sure I don't need to remind ye that I'm a wee bit more than a fair shot," he added, giving Roarke a sly wink.

"No, of course not." Roarke thought of Magnus's trembling hands as they fought to restrain his arrows. "But since you will have a large group to train, perhaps Donald could a.s.sist you."

"An apprentice, ye say?" Magnus doubtfully scratched his white head. "Very well. If ye keep yer eyes more on me and less on the la.s.ses," he said, regarding Donald sternly, "maybe I'll be able to teach ye a thing or two."

Donald gave him a graceful bow. "I shall forever be in your debt."

"Now, then," continued Roarke, "for the training with swords-"

"All right then, I'll do it," interrupted Thor grumpily, as if he had just relented to Roarke's lengthy beseeching. "But I warn you, I don't tolerate laggards."

Roarke cast an inquiring glance at Eric.

"Never," growled the fair-haired warrior. "I would sooner have my bowels dragged slowly from my body and be left to rot in their hot, stinking-"

"Eric will help you, Thor," said Roarke amiably.

Thor glared ominously at Eric. "If you give me so much as a whit of trouble, Viking, I shall have no choice but to kill you."

"Only if I don't kill myself first," muttered Eric, glowering at Roarke.

"I propose that Lewis be in charge of designing the traps," Roarke continued, "and he should oversee the men as they build them, to ensure that his instructions are carried out accurately."

Lewis shook his head. "I can design them," he said, not sounding terribly confident even on that point, "but I can't supervise the men."

"Of course you can," Roarke insisted.

Lewis shook his head more adamantly.

"The lad's right," said Gelfrid.

"He's too timid to make a crew of men do his bidding," Ninian scoffed.

"Why don't you believe you can, Lewis?" asked Roarke, irritated by the way everyone constantly contributed to the youth's lack of confidence.

Lewis stared at the ground. "Because no one will listen to me." His face was nearly crimson with embarra.s.sment.

"Of course they will listen to you," Roarke objected, "or they will have to deal with-" He stopped suddenly, realizing he had been about to say himself. But he had no authority here-he was a prisoner, for G.o.d's sake.

"They will have to deal with me."

Everyone looked in surprise at Laird MacKillon.

"According to Roarke, our Lewis has a special talent. If this is true, then we should ensure that he is able to put this talent to work for the good of the clan, should we not?"

The clan regarded him in uncomfortable silence.

"Splendid. I'm sure I can count on everyone a.s.signed to implement Lewis's designs to pay close attention, and to carry out his instructions to the best of their abilities."

Mortified at being the center of this discussion, Lewis continued to study his feet.

Roarke swept his gaze over the courtyard. It was clear the MacKillons were unconvinced, but knew better than to contest a direct order from their laird. He sighed inwardly, hoping Lewis would be able to overcome his lack of confidence, thereby earning the respect of the clan.

"Well, I'm happy that's all sorted out," said Laird MacKillon, rising slowly from his chair. "And now, I suggest that everyone go back to bed and get a bit more sleep-there's plenty of time to address all of these things."