The Firebrand Read Online Free Page A

have it.” The abbess shook her head adamantly at the two men. “We’ve done that. Two days ago, when we first brought her down from the abbey, I had her cage hung right there from that rafter. Why, in a few moments, the brazen creature was amusing herself entertaining everyone below with her wicked tongue. And I do not mind telling you that I myself was the butt of most of her impudent mockery. Nay! That will not do, at all. Why, inside of an hour, she’d managed to win a number of those listening to take her side against me!”
    Again Alan directed his words to the master. “Half-Scot she might be, but the lass was raised an English lady. She may not survive the night out there.”
    “I had blankets put in the cage for her. She’ll survive.” The nun wrapped both of her hands around the ornate silver cross hanging around her neck, and a small smile broke across her thin lips. “I am pleased, though, that my prayers have finally been answered. Once and for all, we will be ridding Barra of that wee scourge.”
    Sudden shouts coming from the courtyard drew everyone’s eyes to the doorway as the burly steward ran into the Hall.
    “The cage, m’lord!”
    Wyntoun shoved the map in Alan’s direction. “What about the cage?”
    “The cage fell. The thing is crashed on the rocks. The rope must have given way.”
    “What of her?” Wyntoun walked around the table and quickly crossed the floor with Alan and the abbess on his heels. “What of the Englishwoman?”
    “She went down, too, m’lord...on the rocks. The men heard her scream. And that was that. By the time we got out there, the tide had washed away most of her...Lord bless her soul.”
    The steward made the sign of cross, and Wyntoun glared back at the ancient nun.
    “It appears your prayers have been answered sooner than you expected, Aunt.”

CHAPTER 3
     
    The night wind, black and bitter, tore at the flaring torches, threatening to extinguish them and...at the same time...snuff out Wyntoun’s hopes. Still, though, the old woman continued to rail at the knight.
    “Get back to your ship, I tell you. You need to be ready to set sail with the tide.”
    Wyntoun swung the smoking torch abruptly around and glared with annoyance at the face of the nun looking on.
    “We set sail when I am ready, Aunt.” The mix of rain and snow driven by the wind stung his face, but as he looked at her, the aged nun seemed oblivious to the storm. He frowned, gentling his tone. “I advised you to stay indoors and leave the search to the men.”
    “I am telling you, Wyn, you have to go.”
    The Highlander turned and faced the roiling surface of the bay. His ship—not an arrowshot from the castle—was riding the waves easily. From the rise and fall of the torches, though, he could tell that the small boats working just beyond the castle’s rocks were clearly struggling to keep stay afloat and still continue the search. Men on the shore, waist deep in the frigid waters, clung to half-submerged boulders and looked for the young woman’s body. “We are not leaving. At least, not until we find some trace of her.”
    A shout came from one of the boats. Wyntoun moved into the water himself, edging closer to where the torches flared in the wind.
    “A blanket, m’lord!” One of the men shouted to Wyntoun.
    “More pieces of the cage.” The call was from Alan on the right.
    The Highlander turned in that direction.
    “Listen to me, Wyn,” the abbess called from the shore. “You’re wasting your time here.”
    The knight disregarded the abbess’s comment and raised his torch higher in the air.
    “By the saints! ‘Tis her hair!” The steward’s shout was almost a moan. “Och, the blessed lass. Here’s a lock of her hair caught between these slats.”
    Wyntoun waded back to the shallows and climbed up to where the steward stood with a handful of long wet curls. The abbess reached the spot ahead of him and snatched the hair out of the man’s hand.
    “I do not care to