The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel Read Free Page B

south at Galloway.
    With the timing so tight, and since they could travel only at night, there was no margin for error.
    “I don’t want any surprises, Tommy. This way we’ll make sure of it.”
    Nothing would interfere with his mission, but they could have a little fun doing it.
    “It’s reckless,” Randolph protested angrily.
    Erik shook his head. The lad really was hopeless. “Now, Tommy, don’t go throwing around words you don’t understand. You wouldn’t know reckless if it came up and bit you in the arse. It’s reckless only if there is a chance they’ll catch us, which—as you’ve already heard—they won’t.”
    His men hoisted the square sail. The heavy wool fibers of the cloth coated with animal fat unfurled with a loud snap in the wind, revealing the fearsome black sea hawk on a white-and-gold striped background. The sight never ceased to send a surge of excitement pumping through his veins.
    A few moments later he heard a cry go up across the water. Erik turned to his disapproving companion with an unrepentant grin. “Looks like it’s too late, lad. They’ve spotted us.” He took the two guide ropes in his hands, braced himself for the gust of wind, and shouted to his men, “Let’s give the English dogs something other than their tails to chase. To Benbane, lads.”
    The men laughed at the jest. To an Englishman, “tail” was a hated slur. Bloody cowards.
    The sail filled with wind, and the birlinn started to fly, soaring over the waves like a bird in flight, giving proof to the Hawk’s namesake emblazoned on the sail and carved into the prow of his boat.
    The faster they flew, the faster the blood surged through Erik’s veins. His muscles strained, pumping with raw energy, holding the boat at a sharp angle to the water. The wind ripped through his hair, sprayed his face, and filled his lungs like an elixir. The rush was incredible. Elemental. Freedom in its most pure form.
    He felt alive and knew that he’d been born for this.
    For the next few minutes the men were silent as Erik maneuvered the boat into position, heading straight for Benbane Head, the northernmost point of Antrim. His clansmen knew him well enough to know what he had planned. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken advantage of a high tide and treacherous rocks.
    Glancing back over his shoulder, he could see that his ploy had worked. The English patrol had forgotten all about the fishermen and were giving chase.
    “Faster,” Randolph shouted above the roar of the wind. “They’re gaining on us.”
    The lad certainly knew how to put a damper on a good time. But grudgingly, Erik had to admit that the English galley was closer than he’d expected. The captain had some skill—and some luck. The Englishman had taken advantage of a gust of wind stronger than the one Erik had tapped into, and was augmenting their speed with his oarsmen. Erik’s oars were silent. He would need them later.
    A little English luck didn’t worry him overmuch—even a blind squirrel found an acorn once in a while.
    “That’s the idea, Tommy. I want them close enough to lead them into the rocks.”
    Devil’s Point was a promontory that jutted out like a rocky finger from the coastline just west of Benbane Head on the far north coast of Ireland. At high tide, the rocky reef would be invisible until it was too late. The trick would be to get the English between him and land, so it wasn’t his boat that was torn apart by the jagged rocks. At the last minute Erik would let them catch up and then turn sharply west, holding course just past the edge of the rock while leading the English right to the Devil.
    It was just the kind of deft maneuvering that he could do in his sleep.
    “Rocks?” Randolph said, his voice taking on a frantic edge. “But how can you see anything in this mist?”
    Erik sighed. If the lad didn’t learn to relax, his heart was going to give out before he reached three and twenty. “I can see all I need to. Have a