Iliana watched dully as the others worked over him, applying pressure, then the salves; one to clean the wound, and one to encourage healing. Then Gertie quickly stitched and bandaged him front and back.
Once it was finished, the others stepped back to eye him worriedly. Despite Gertie's quick work, he had lost a good deal of bood. Even his lips seemed gray now.
"Are ye done?" he asked, grimacing.
Gertie nodded solemnly.
"Good. Then I'd best see to our visitors." He pushed himself off the steps then, swaying but managing to gain his feet, much to the amazement of the people surrounding him. He even managed a shaky step forward. Then he collapsed like a tree under the ax.
Crying out, Iliana and the others hurried to catch him as he pitched forward, then gently eased his unconscious form to the ground.
"Laird!" Willie, the stablemaster's son, came to a shuddering halt before them, eyes wide in horror as he saw that the man would be of little assistance.
"What is it?" Iliana asked impatiently.
The boy hesitated, then seemed to decide there was little harm in telling her. "My father sent me to tell the laird that the English are erecting a causeway. Once 'tis done, they will no doubt either ram the bridge or set it afire.
Iliana frowned and glanced toward her unconscious father-in-law.
"Go," her mother murmured. "See what you can do. You are in charge now."
Iliana stiffened in dismay, for her mother was right. With Angus out of action and her husband away, she was in charge. Even Allistair was not there to relieve her of the burden. 'Twas a frightening realization, made more so by the anxious expressions on the faces of those around her.
Realizing she had no choice, Iliana gathered her courage. "Where is your father?" she asked at last.
"On the wall."
"Go," her mother repeated when Iliana glanced toward her uncertainly. "We shall see Angus to his room."
Nodding unhappily, Iliana turned to walk toward the stairs she and her mother had helped Angus down not more than half an hour earlier. Aware that Willie was lagging behind, she glanced back at him sternly. "Pick up your feet, lad," she ordered with as much authority as she could muster. "'Tis not a Sunday picnic we are heading to."
The boy's eyebrows rose at that and he did speed up to walk beside her. He even managed to look a little less positive that they were doomed.
One glance down the wall when she reached the stablemaster's side told Iliana that this was not a problem that could wait for her father-in-law to regain consciousness.
Greenweld was below. She recognized him in his armor. He was mounted and shouting orders at the men building the causeway across the moat.
"If they finish that, they'll be within the walls in no time," the stablemaster announced as she straightened. "They'll set fire to the bridge and gate."
"Aye." Iliana racked her brain for a solution.
"Our arrows are no good with that barricade over their heads," he informed her helpfully.
"I realize that." Iliana sighed, then glanced toward the mound of boulders in the inner bailey. The men had just managed to finish the wall ere leaving on the expedition to rescue Seonaid. That was a blessing. They would have been in quite a spot had they not. Still, there was stone left.
Iliana remained silent for a moment, her mind working over the problem that had been presented to her. Her gaze slid to the rocks again. Most of them were too large for the idea forming in her mind, but the smaller ones would do quite nicely.
"Collect as many men as you think you will need and fetch that rock up here."
"Rock?" He peered where she pointed dubiously.
"The smaller one on the edge of the pile," she explained.
"I don't think--"
"Do it."
"But 'twill take at least six men to get it up here."
"Then take six men," she responded promptly. "And send four more to the kitchens with two long posts to fetch Elgin's vat of stew up here as well."
"The cook's stew?" He goggled at her.
"You heard me."
"Aye, but--That will leave only two men up here to keep shooting arrows at--"
"There is nothing to shoot at, sir," she pointed out dryly. "As you have said, they cannot shoot through the barricade, and the others are out of range. Now, stop questioning me and do as I have ordered. I have a plan."
Rabbie opened his mouth to argue further with her, caught a glimpse of her stubborn expression, and thought better of it. Closing his mouth on a sigh of resignation, he turned and moved away, shaking his head.
Iliana watched him go, then peered down on the Englishmen again, watching them work until she heard a series of muttered curses coming from the steps.
"Be careful! Ye'll spill the--Damn ye fool men!"
Iliana whirled toward the stairs at those harassed words from Elgin, who had apparently accompanied the product of his labors.
"Me lady!" Elgin's florid face came into view as he mounted the last of the steps. Wringing the hem of his apron in his hands, he hurried toward her. "These buffoons came charging into the kitchens, slid those damn posts under the handle of my vat, and started to leave with it. When I asked what they were about, they claimed ye wanted it up here. I told them they must be mistaken--"
"They told you true," Iliana soothed, patting his shoulder gently. Stepping past him, she instructed the four men to set the vat of steaming liquid down as close to the wall as possible to make as much room as they could for the six men huffing and puffing along behind them, carrying the boulder she had requested.
"Where do ye want it?" the stablemaster gasped breathlessly as soon as he and the other men had maneuvered gingerly past the steaming vat.
"Set it on the wall, directly in the center," Iliana instructed, then turned to the four men still standing by the vat. "I would like that on the wall right next to it."
That they followed her instructions at once was good, but the exchanged looks made her grimace. She was not a stupid woman, nor was she mad, and the fact that they had not yet caught onto her plan was rather irritating.
"Me lady?" Elgin was glancing from her to the vat that was teetering dangerously on the edge of the wall, looking nearly ready to burst into tears. Iliana smiled at him gently and patted his shoulder once more.
"Do not fret, Elgin. All will be well."
"But me stew..."
Iliana's mouth thinned out into a straight line. "We have gu
ests at the door. Would you turn them away without at least offering them some sustenance?"
His eyes widened in horror at that, but the other men suddenly began to grin as they understood her intentions. Iliana turned toward Rabbie.
"The rock first to smash the barricade and causeway. Count to three, then tip the vat after it."
"Me stew," Elgin whimpered, twisting his apron more frantically.
"'Twill be put to good use, Elgin," Iliana murmured sympathetically.
"Aye." The stablemaster grinned at the cook as he and two of the other men shifted in preparation of pushing the boulder off the wall. "'Twill be a meal those English dogs'll not soon forget." Pausing, he glanced toward the men now manning the vat. "Remember, on the count of three."
Iliana took a step to the side and leaned over to peer down the wall as they pushed the rock off. It plummeted downward so swiftly there was little chance for those watching to shout a warning. The crash as it smashed into the barricade was incredibly loud, the screams of the unfortunate men in its path louder still as the entire structure shuddered and collapsed beneath. Stew poured down over the now unprotected men.
"Me vat!" Elgin cried as it followed the stew, the men unable to hold the hot vessel. His voice was drowned out by their cheers, however, when the heavy metal vat crashed through the causeway, sending it shuddering and collapsing into the moat, taking a great many of the men below with it.
Iliana herself was silent as she stared at the devastation below. Dead or dying men were strewn about like fallen chess pieces, their moans rising to batter her ears. A few of the men who had waited in the cover of the woods charged forward to aid their fallen comrades, and Iliana's men immediately loosed arrows upon them. They would give no quarter.
Turning away, she muttered something about checking on Lord Angus and walked blindly back toward the stairs, nearly stumbling into her mother.
Lady Wildwood took one look at Iliana's stark face, then raised the pitcher she had brought with her. "Here. Have some of this." Unwilling to be denied, she lifted the pitcher to Iliana's lips herself, and tipped it up. The fiery liquid poured down her throat, burning a path into her belly. Iliana tugged her head away after a few swallows to splutter and cough.
Lady Wildwood thumped her back hearteningly, watching her face with concern and muttering, "Well, at least you have some color back in you."