He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a cry which echoed from the gallery. There was a crash and a pale figure appeared at the top of the stairs. The light was not good, but Gaise could make out the Moidart’s sharp features. He was wearing a white nightshirt, stained at the shoulder by something dark. A black-garbed figure rushed at him, and the two men grappled and fell to the floor. Another man came into view. Gaise saw the gleam of a blade. With a great heave Gaise hurled the coal bucket at the knifeman. It struck him on the shoulder, knocking him back. Gaise ran up the stairs two at a time. He could hear the Moidart shouting: ‘Assassins! Assassins!’ But no guards came.
Gaise rushed at the knifeman. The blade slashed out. Gaise swerved and threw himself to his right. The assassin was fast. Gaise managed to block a thrust with his forearm. The knife blade slid along his sleeve, ripping the cloth and creating a shallow cut to his skin. Gaise leapt at the man, ramming his elbow into the assassin’s face and following it with a head butt to the nose. The assassin cried out and fell back, half stunned. In that split second Gaise sensed someone behind him and threw himself to his left. Something heavy cracked against his right shoulder sending searing pain into his neck. Gaise fell to the floor. The new attacker, wielding an iron club, ran in. His foot twisted on a lump of coal and he too fell. Gaise rolled to his feet and launched a kick into the newcomer’s face. The man made a grab for Gaise’s foot and missed. Gaise ran back to the gallery wall. It was decorated with shields and ancient weapons, lances and spears, broadswords and bows. Gaise tried to lift clear a sword, but it was held too firmly in place. Instead he grabbed a hunting lance, wrenching it from its bracket.
The man ran at him. With no time to turn the spear point towards his attacker Gaise spun on his heels, the haft of the lance cracking against the man’s temple. With a grunt he toppled to the floor. Bringing the lance to bear Gaise hurdled the fallen man and plunged the spear into the side of the attacker struggling with the Moidart. The man gave out a terrible scream and dropped his knife. The Moidart took up the weapon, ramming it into the assassin’s throat. Pushing aside the corpse the Moidart wrenched the blade clear and rose to his feet.
The last of the assassins hefted his dagger. ‘I’ll kill you yet, you black-hearted bastard!’ he yelled. He rushed at the Moidart. A gunshot boomed. The assassin staggered, blood pumping from a great tear in his throat. He grabbed the gallery rail and tried to pull himself towards the Moidart. A second shot echoed in the gallery. The assassin’s head snapped back. Gaise saw that he had been shot this time through the right eye. The young noble swung to see the tall figure of Mulgrave walking along the gallery, two long-barrelled duelling pistols in his hands. Gaise ran to a curtain, wrenching it open. Moonlight bathed the gallery. Mulgrave placed the pistols on a nearby table and moved alongside the Moidart. ‘You are cut, my lord,’ he said.
‘It is nothing,’ said the Moidart, his voice cold. ‘I see one of these wretches still lives.’ He pointed to the unconscious man Gaise had struck with the lance butt. Take him to the cells. I will attend his questioning myself.’
‘Yes, lord.’ Mulgrave glanced at Gaise. ‘You fought well, sir,’ he said. Gaise bowed and returned his attention to his father. The Moidart did not look at him but walked back towards his room. ‘Send the surgeon to me,’ he told Mulgrave. Then he paused and stared down at the carpet. He swung towards Gaise. ‘I see that you were stealing my coal. We will speak of this another time.’
At thirty-one Maev Ring was a handsome woman, tall and green-eyed. Her hair, still a lustrous red, now shone with faint streaks of silver. She was regarded by many clansmen as cold and remote -largely due to the fact that, following the death of her husband ten years before, she had refused all advances from the many widowers among the clan. Maev had been just sixteen when she had wed the young warrior Calofair. It was widely accepted that they were the best-looking couple in the highlands. Many of the young men envied Calofair’s luck. Maev was not only beautiful but also the sister of Lanovar, the chieftain, and all men knew that this brilliant and gifted warrior would bring prosperity to the clan. Through his efforts the Rigante name would be restored to the Scroll of Clans, and their stolen lands returned to their rightful owners. These were days of golden promise.