Page 81 of The Scot

Chapter 33

Terric sat for the first time in two days.

They’d needed to hasten to burn the area outside the outer walls so Ulster’s men could not forage for supplies, but otherwise they were well prepared for this siege.

Too prepared.

The presence of his clansmen and Berkshire meant there were extra mouths to feed. Even so, they could hold here well into the fall, if necessary.

And Terric did not intend to lose.

“The archers need to be resupplied.”

Gilbert crossed his arms. “You’re the only one who has not yet rested.”

Terric gestured to the bed upon which he sat. Not his bed, to be sure, but he didn’t dare leave the gatehouse. He needed to be on the front lines, near his men.

“Am I not attempting to do so?”

Gilbert shouted a command over his shoulder.

“Attempting. You’ll sleep as well in the gatehouse as you would on the drawbridge, my lord. A proper sleep. They’ll not be building any more bridges this night.”

Courtesy of the wet moat, their attackers had been faced with the choice of building a bridge or filling in sections to cross, given they did not appear to have brought a barge with them. Guards had been posted not just in every tower, along both the inner and outer walls, but also at positions between them. If any of Ulster’s men attempted to fill in parts of the moat, they would know.

Bridges, it seemed, would be the key to winning or losing this conflict.

“No man can survive on will alone, my lord.”

“Gilbert may be too kind to say so, but what he really means is you need to get your arse into the keep for a real sleep. Now,” Lance said, approaching from behind the marshal.

“You will resupply the archers?”

“Aye, my lord,” Gilbert said, “already being done.”

“And will post new guards at all the stations?”

Gilbert and Lance exchanged a glance.

“Go. To. Sleep. Little will change until morn,” Lance urged, his tone insistent.

Rory walked up to them then, his presence ensuring Terric would find no sleep here. He clapped Lance on the back, grinning. “You’ve the singular pleasure of being able to order my brother about. For that, I like you above all others,” he said.

Terric stood, grumbling, and pushed his way past all three men.

“Remember the archers,” he called from the stairwell, making his way out of the gatehouse and through the inner ward. More exhausted with each step, he stumbled into the keep. Circumnavigating the hall, which would be filled with sleeping servants, he spotted a maid.

“A bowl of hot water and cloth. In my chamber.”

She curtsied. “Aye, my lord.”

About to climb the stairwell, Terric stopped.

His thoughts turned to Roysa, but surely she would be sleeping. He had so much to tell her, and he was hardly coherent at the moment. It would be better to visit her in the morning, surely.

“Cait?”

She’d just exited the chamber she’d claimed, just down the hall from his own.