kutzkattherine.the bishopsheir-第25部分

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But　then　consciousness　was　slipping　away　even　as　his　captor　charged　into　the　fray　again；　and　he　knew　no　more。

Caball　MacArdry　and　the　remnants　of　Dhugal's　mand　limped　their　way　back　through　the　gates　of　Castle　Transha　just　at　dusk。　They　brought　two　dead　with　them；　and　not　a　man　among　the　living　had　escaped　unscathed。　One　prisoner　they　had　managed　to　take；　lashed　to　the　saddle　of　Dhugal's　protesting　pony；　but　only　because　he　had　been　too　badly　injured　to　ride　with　his　rades。　Were　it　not　for　the　fact　that　they　hoped　to　question　him；　Caball　gladly　would　have　cut　his　throat　without　further　ceremony。
All　during　the　slow；　painful　ride　back　from　Carcashale；　the　devastated　Caball　had　rehearsed　the　possible　ways　of　telling　old　Caulay　that　his　son　was　captured。　In　the　end；　he　could　only　let　Dhugal's　absence　speak　for　itself。　He　dared　not　meet　the　old　man's　eyes　as　he　and　the　five　other　survivors　still　able　knelt　at　the　foot　of　the　chief's　chair　in　the　great　hall。　Caulay　stiffened　as　his　rheumy　eyes　searched　the　faces　of　the　six　and　did　not　find　Dhugal。
〃We　met　them　at　Carcashale；　sair；〃　Caball　said　in　a　low　voice；　blood　seeping　between　his　fingers　where　he　clutched　at　a　wound　in　his　right　shoulder。　〃Brice　of　Trurill　led　them。　He　has　turned　traitor。〃
〃And　my　son？〃　Caulay　managed　to　rasp。
〃Taken；〃　was　all　Caball　would　whisper　miserably。
He　tried　to　tell　Caulay　that　they　believed　Dhugal　still　to　be　alive；　though　wounded　…　and　that　Caball　would　send　out　the　fiery　cross　to　summon　the　clan　and　pursue　…　but　the　news　was　the　final　blow　to　Caulay's　already　frail　health。　Without　uttering　a　sound；　the　old　man　clutched　at　his　chest　and　sagged　in　his　chair；　eyes　rolling　up　and　out　of　sight。　He　died　within　seconds；　cradled　in　the　arms　of　Kinkellyan　the　bard；　his　helpless　kinsmen　able　to　do　nothing。
Though　numbed　almost　beyond　further　reaction；　and　weak　from　his　own　injuries；　Caball　had　the　alarm　rung　and　summoned　the　remaining　clansmen　at　Transha　to　the　great　hall　…　young　boys　and　old　men；　for　the　most　part；　though　some　of　the　women　came　to　tend　the　wounded。　Stripped　to　the　waist　so　his　own　wounds　could　be　cared　for；　Caball　sat　on　a　stool　beside　the　slumped　body　of　the　dead　chief　as　the　others　gathered　before　him；　one　hand　gripped　tight　on　the　edge　of　the　table　against　the　pain。　As　castellan　and　next　in　succession　after　Dhugal；　it　had　bee　his　grim　duty　to　assume　the　leadership　of　the　clan　until　Dhugal's　condition　should　be　learned。　He　winced　as　his　wife　and　Kinkellyan　began　washing　out　his　wound；　trying　to　ignore　the　bard's　troubled　muttering。
〃Young　Dhugal　is　our　chief　now；〃　he　told　the　assembled　men；　〃if　he　lives。　I　dinnae　know　what　his　captors　will　do　wi'　him；　but　since　they　didnae　kill　him　when　they　first　threatened；　we　must　hope　he　is　still　alive。〃
〃We　should　go　after！〃　one　of　the　men　rumbled。　〃If　young　Dhugal　still　lives；　then　he　must　be　rescued　…　an'　if　he　be　dead；　then　he　must　be　avenged！〃
〃Aye；　an'　where　is　the　prisoner？〃　another　demanded。　〃Before　we　gae　chargin'　offtae　take　on　rebel　knights；　we　should　first　find　oot　wha'　we　be　dealin'　with。〃
〃Ciard；　bring　him；〃　Caball　ordered；　waving　off　those　tending　his　wound　as　the　gillie　and　another　clansmen　went　to　do　his　bidding。
The　prisoner's　face　was　pale　as　whey；　his　sword　arm　splinted　and　bound　to　his　chest；　but　he　managed　to　stay　on　his　feet　as　he　was　marched　roughly　to　the　dais。　Though　they　had　stripped　him　down　to　woolen　singlet　and　boots　and　breeches　beneath　his　black　mantle；　he　still　wore　a　rust…stained　arming　cap　on　his　head。　He　bit　back　a　groan　as　he　was　shoved　to　his　knees　before　Caball；　only　barely　catching　himself　on　his　good　hand。
〃On　yer　knees　an'　uncovered　before　yer　betters；　man！〃　Ciard　barked；　yanking　back　the　man's　coif　and　shoving　his　head　closer　to　the　floor。
The　man's　lank　hair　was　cut　in　the　bowl…shaped　hair…style　favored　by　many　warriors；　but　a　tonsured　spot　gleamed　at　the　crown。　As　the　significance　registered；　Caball　seized　a　fistful　of　hair　and　yanked　the　man's　head　up　to　look　at　his　face；　heedless　of　the　blood　streaming　down　his　wounded　arm。
〃By　the　good　God；　he's　a　cleric　an'　e　armed　among　us！〃　Caball　breathed。　〃Look　a'　the　tonsure！　What's　yer　name；　priest？　Wha'　master　d'ye　serve；　who　sends　priests　armed　into　the　king's　lands？〃
The　man　merely　grimaced　and　closed　his　eyes　as　Caball　twisted　the　handful　of　hair　harder。
〃Speak　up；　priest！　I　hae　little　patience　t'day。〃
〃I　have　nothing　to　say；〃　the　man　whispered。
〃Dinnae　waste　yer　time　wi'　such　slime；　Caball！〃　one　of　the　clansmen　snarled。　〃He's　a　traitor。　Let's　gie　'im　a　traitor's　reward。〃
〃Aye；　hang　him；　Caball！〃
'Touch　me　and　your　lands　go　under　Interdict　the　instant　my　master　hears　of　it！〃　the　prisoner　responded；　opening　blue　eyes　defiantly。　〃He'll　exmunicate　the　lot　of　you。　I　claim　benefit　of　clergy　and　the　right　to　ecclesiastical　trial。　You　have　no　authority　to　judge　me。〃
〃Interdict？〃　one　of　the　men　murmured；　as　several　others　crossed　themselves。
Caball　gave　the　man's　hair　another　vicious　twist。
〃Mind　yer　tongue；　priest！　Yer　traitor　master　cannae　save　ye　here！　Speak　up。　Who　are　ye？〃
Consternation　flickered　across　the　man's　face　for　just　an　instant；　but　still　he　shook　his　head　stubbornly。
〃I　do　not　have　to　answer　to　you。〃
〃No；　but　ye　may　well　wish　ye　had；〃　Caball　replied；　releasing　the　man　with　a　shove　that　overbalanced　him　into　a　groaning　heap　on　the　floor。　〃An'　there　is　one　to　whom　ye　will　answer。〃
Caball　backed　off　unsteadily　and　leaned　against　the　edge　of　the　table；　catching　Ciard's　eye　as　he　let　his　wife　and　Kinkellyan　return　to　their　ministrations。
〃Ciard　O　Ruane；　as　gillie　to　our　young　laird；　I　give　ye　the　charge　o'　tellin'　the　king　what　has　occurred。　Spare　neither　self　n？？　steed；　sae　lang　as　ye　reach　Rhemuth　quickly。　If　the　king　is　n？？　there　now；　he　will　arrive　shortly；　so　wait。〃
〃Aye；　Caball。〃
〃As　for　the　prisoner；〃　he　smiled　menacingly　as　he　turned　his　eyes　back　on　the　defiant　captive；　〃a　suitable　escort　shall　follow　ye　tae　Rhemuth　on　the　morrow。　'Tis　only　for　this　that　we　spare　ye；　priest。　An'　know　that　th'　king　is　bloodkin　to　our　young　laird；　an'　will　be　greatly　wroth　if　any　further　harm　should　e　to　him。　Ye'd　best　pray　that　yer　master　does　nothing　rash。　Take　him　out。〃
As　the　prisoner　was　jerked　to　his　feet　and　led　none　too　gently　from　the　hall；　a　grim　Ciard　following；　Caball　collapsed　back　against　the　edge　of　the　table。　Behind　him；　a　gillie　handed　Kinkellyan　the　cloth…wrapped　end　of　a　glowing　iron。
〃Devlin；　send　out　the　fiery　cross　to　summon　the　seven　chieftains；〃　Caball　said　to　the　clan's　gleeman；　who　stepped　forward　at　his　name。　〃An'　let　th'　piper　sound　the　corranach　tae　speed　Th'　MacArdry　on　his　way。〃　He　steeled　himself　as　Devlin　and　another　man　moved　in　to　hold　him　for　Kinkellyan's　work。
〃An'　let　the　women　prepare　The　MacArdry's　body　for　his　final　rest；〃　he　went　on。　〃Until　we　hear　otherwise；　young　Dhugal　is　our　new　chief；　an'　I　shall　direct　the　clan　only　in　his　…　〃
The　hiss　of　the　hot　iron　searing　flesh　cut　off　further　speech；　and　Caball's　body　arched　with　the　agony；　though　he　uttered　not　a　sound。　He　slumped　into　merciful　unconsciousness　before　it　was　done；　so　he　did　not　hear　the　lone　piper　begin　his　lament　for　the　dead　chief；　or　the　women　keening　as　they　drew　around　the　body　to　take　it　away。
Those　who　had　ridden　with　the　new　chief　heard　it；　however；　and　Ciard　O　Ruane；　as　he　mounted　a　fast　horse　to　ride　for　Rhemuth；　hoped　desperately　that　the　corranach　was　not　for　the　young　laird　as　well　as　the　old。

Dhugal　MacArdry　would　have　deemed　the　piper's　lament　wholly　appropriate　in　the　days　which　followed；　though　he　stubbornly　refused　to　die。　Nor；　it　seemed；　did　his　captors　wish　him　dead。　He　vaguely　recalled　shouted　threats　to　do　him　harm；　when　he　first　had　been　taken；　but　he　sensed　that　his　captors　considered　him　a　hostage　of　some　value。　When　he　first　regained　consciousness；　they　were　bandaging　his　head；　though　nothing　was　done　about　his　cracked　ribs。
He　passed　out　again　when　they　made　him　stand　to　put　him　on　a　horse　of　his　own；　however；　and　he　drifted　in　and　out　of　consciousness　often　in　the　days　which　followed。　Even　when　he　was　awake；　swaying　groggily　in　the　saddle　of　the　rough…gaited　mount　they　had　given　him；　his　head　throbbed　and　his　broken　ribs　burned　with　every　breath　and　jolt。　Sometimes；　the　very　effort　of　trying　to　focus　on　the　world　around　him　made　him　pass　out。
Unconsciousness　was　something　of　a　blessing　initially；　for　there　was　no　part　of　his　anatomy　which　did　not　hurt。　He　could　not　fall　off　his　horse；　for　his　feet　were　bound　to　his　stirrups　and　lashed　beneath　the　animal's　belly；　but　whenever　he　fainted；　which　was　all　too　often；　his　already　battered　body　sagged　limply　against　the　ropes　and　strained　tortured　muscles　anew。
But　his　head　was　the　worst。　As　often　as　not；　when　they　roused　him　from　one　of　their　infrequent　rest　stops　and　made　him　stand；　he　passed　out　again。　No　matter　how　he　reckoned　that；　it　meant　a　serious　concussion　…　for　which　the　only　cure　was　rest。　And　so　long　as　his　captors　continued　to　press　onward　toward　their　unknown　destination；　he　knew　he　would　simply　have　to　endure。
In　such　manner　did　the　days　pass　…　four　since　his　capture；　so　far　as　he　could　calculate。　He　had　learned　the　identity　of　the　men　his　captors　escorted