“’Tis a he-cat, isnae he? Got balls. Makes it a he.”
Harcourt sighed. “Calling an animal a name or he or she makes it more than just something to keep the rats out of the meal or put in a stew and that leads to trouble.” He ignored Geordie’s chuckle.
The cat slipped around an odd stack of old trunks. Harcourt looked at the torch he held and saw the flame move as if there was a breeze in the cellars. He moved closer to the wall, looked behind the trunks, and then swore. There was a door there and whoever had used it last had not shut it all the way thus giving Roban a way in. Somewhere at the end of the passage would be another opening and Harcourt needed it shut.
“I believe we have just found one of the tunnels David used to leave the keep for a tryst. He was a randy fellow cursed with overly pious parents.” He handed Geordie the torch. “Ye go first.”
“Ah, and here I thought ye trusted me.”
“Nay,” he said as he followed Geordie into the passage. “I need an archer. Need doesnae require trust. That takes longer.”
At a few places they had to bend a little to clear the ceiling, but it was a sturdy, well-built tunnel in all other ways. It curved upward near the end leading to a set of stone steps. Harcourt got to the top, moved up next to Geordie who had opened a rough slat door, and looked into the stables. One of the slats was broken at the bottom, leaving just enough room for Roban to come and go as it pleased. He stepped farther inside the stable, startling Dunnie so badly the man fell back against one of the stall doors.
“Where did ye come from, sir?” asked Dunnie as he struggled to compose himself.
Harcourt showed the man the door, realizing that it was cleverly situated at the far back of the stables and blocked from sight by worktables and old blankets. “How long have ye worked here, Dunnie?”
“Near all my life, sir. My da was the stable master before me though. He died nay so long after the old laird did.”
“Ah, and obviously held fast to this secret, taking it to the grave with him.”
“Is it a bolt-hole?”
“In a way. David liked the lassies but his parents were verra strict and pious.”
Dunnie nodded. “Ye think he met with the lassies in here?”
“Nay, too great a chance of being caught. There has to be another door.”
It took all three of them an hour to find the hidden way out of the stables. Just before they were about to give up, Harcourt carefully walked in a straight line from the door he had come through to the opposite side of the stable. It was not easy due to a vast array of obstacles from buckets to tools but the last and largest obstacle was an ill-tempered gelding in a stall who quickly revealed why he was called Biter.
Dunnie managed to get the animal moved into another stall without injury so the three of them could work to clear away the straw covering the floor. In the far corner was a hatch in the floor. Harcourt had to scrape out years of debris from around the edges before he could open it. Beneath it was a set of worn stone steps, not steep but definitely leading down and toward the wall the stable had been built against.
“This wasnae built by David,” he said. “Torch, Geordie.” As the man worked to relight the one they had brought with them, Harcourt carefully studied the sloping, narrow steps. “This is verra old.”
“Weel, Glencullaich is verra old,” said Dunnie. “There has been something on this place e’en before folk began to keep records. But dinnae ken why this is here.” He shrugged. “Though stories told let one ken that the lot who lived here back in that time wasnae always made up of good men. Looks to me that, if ye follow that, ye will end up in the burn.”
Dunnie proved right. With a grumbling Geordie leading the way with torch in hand, they followed the sloping tunnel all the way down to a small cave on the banks of the burn. Not certain if anyone was watching the keep from this side, Harcourt stood at the back of the cave with the two men. It was big enough to stable a horse, he realized and shook his head. David must have found an ancient bolt-hole and used it to enjoy a few secret trysts. Few of the men on the walls watched this side of the keep for the bank of the burn was high, solid stone, and the tall walls of the keep were built nearly to the edge of the banks. It was going to be difficult to secure but he knew it would be the height of foolishness to destroy it. As they returned to the stables he decided to confer with the others. For now, simply replacing Biter in the stall would be good enough.
He wandered back through the tunnel leading into the cellars, Geordie right behind him. By the time he reached the great hall it was to catch Callum and Tamhas about to leave for the night. Harcourt hoped he was not about to ruin a fine night with a bonnie lass, especially when there was a battle on the horizon. Every man deserved what could be his last night in the arms of a woman. It was how he planned to spend his.