As though he was displeased with his own decision, Gordie spun on his heel and faced his angry brother.
"Are ye insane?!" Roy roared. "He's a Douglas! And not just any Douglas, but The Black Douglas!"
"Aye, I ken it, Roy, but there are thi
ngs ye be to young to understand yet. For example..." Gordie's voice faded as he draped his arm around Roy's neck and led him away.
A different man than the one who had shackled her hands came up to Gabrielle and, taking her by the arm, guided her toward her horse. She put up no resistance. Truly, she was too shocked by what had transpired since Connor had awakened her to even consider it.
Chapter 10
Dark and murky, the dungeon was located deep in the bowels of Caerlaverock. The cell in which Connor and Ella had been locked more than an hour ago was small and cramped. A narrow, slitlike window in the upper portion of the far wall—much too high to reach, even with Ella on his shoulders, Connor had been quick to discover—let in a modicum of midafternoon sunlight.
If he strained, Connor could see a patch of the sky. While the night's storm had dissipated, it hadn't entirely abated. Threatening clouds hung in the sky like thick, dark swatches of wool. The afternoon looked gray and dingy, as unpromising as his mood. The floor upon which he sat was as cold and hard as the stone wall against which he leaned his back.
The muscles around his heart clenched into a tight fist when he thought about Gabrielle. He'd not seen her since reaching the Maxwell stronghold, when he and Ella had been hauled down to the dungeon while Gabrielle had been taken...
Where?
He knew not, nor did he dare to guess at what the Maxwells had done with her. A shiver coursed icily down his spine. The possibilities were too gruesome to contemplate.
Lord, how he wished he knew what was going on elsewhere in this cursed keep!
Unfortunately, the dungeon was situated too far below the ground floor for them to hear any activity coming from above. Connor was sure there was a good deal of noise and commotion going on up there somewhere, but the thick stones and mortar deadened any noise. And all of it centered around Gabrielle.
To distract his mind from unwelcome images, he concentrated on the sound of Ella's bootheels echoing crisply off frigid stone as she paced restlessly in front of him.
"Ye ken, of course, 'tis only thanks to a Maxwell—may the devil roast the lot of 'em in hell for all eternity!—that a Douglas could find himself in a scrape such as this. I swear there's not been a moment's rest for our poor, weary clan since those detestable Maxwells stole that ugly auld nag near on twa centuries ago!"
"Och! lass, ye dinny ken what ye're talking aboot. That horse was a prime specimen. 'Twas not auld, not ugly, and certainly not a nag. 'Twas a maun fine example of its breed, well worth fighting o'er. Our ancestors were right to want the beastie back at all costs."
"Dinny be such a simpleton, Cousin." Ella shook her head, gave forth a sigh of exaggerated impatience at the same time she sent Connor an indignant glance from the corner of her eye. "'Tis our great-aunt Ailean I be referring to," she explained with forced patience, "not the fine beast lifted from Bracklenaer on the same midnight raid. The horse was recovered quickly enough. Nay, whilst the theft of the beastie may have started the feud, 'twas Ailean who kindled the grudge between Douglas and Maxwell by choosing to stay and marry into the hated clan."
"Had she a choice?" Connor shook his head and frowned. "If so, I dinny see it. Oh, aye, she could have returned to Bracklenaer, but e'en if she did, how many Douglases do ye think would have wanted to take to wife a lass so obviously soiled by a Maxwell? Nae self-respecting one, I'll tell ye that for nothing. Nae doubt the safety of the bairn that Lachlann Maxwell had already planted in her belly weighed heavily on her mind, and her decision to stay at Caerlaverock."
"Mayhap, but nae matter what the reason, I still think 'twas a foolhardy decision. One that, in its thoughtlessness, has caused her Douglas descendants—us!-—enormous trouble and hardship e'er since!"
"Ella—"
"She was ne'er happy at Caerlaverock," a third voice interceded. "I dinny ken if that be any consolation to ye, but 'tis true."
Ella and Connor jerked their attention to the door, and the direction from which the voice had come. A window was embedded in the upper portion of the thick oak panel. The "window," such as it was, consisted of a small, lopsided square. The barred opening wasn't even large enough for Ella to shimmy through...
The shadows clinging to the window and the narrow hallway that lay just outside of it were complete.
"Who's there?" Connor demanded as he shoved himself to his feet. He took a step forward, positioning himself protectively between Ella and the door.
There was a beat of hesitation, and then the voice asked in an almost timid pitch, "Are ye The Black Douglas?"
Ella came up close behind Connor and whispered in his ear, "From the sounds, 'tis naught but a bairn."
He nodded, having already determined as much himself. He guessed the intruder's age to be between seven and nine years.
"Did ye hear me? I asked if ye be The Black Douglas." This time there wasn't a thread of timidity in the voice.
A layer of solid oak and handful of strong iron bars went a long way toward fostering false courage, Connor thought as he glared at both. "Aye," he growled finally, "'tis what they call me, howe'er I'm not, nor have I e'er been or claimed to be, The Black Douglas. I'm but a descendant poorly nicknamed. Who be asking?"
An excited giggle drifted through the window, ricocheting throughout the cell. The high, sharp pitch made Connor wince as it reverberated off the bare stone walls. "Gordie said he'd done it, ye ken, but I dinny believe him. Yet here's proof! Imagine, the notorious Black Douglas safely locked away in Caerlaverock's dungeon." The boy paused long enough to giggle again; the sound was stifled, as though he'd muffled it with his hand at the last second. "Och! but is this not a fine day for the Maxwell!"