Anne’s heart went cold, but she forced herself to ask, “What happened tae her?”
“She was burned at the stake in the town square, in a little village halfway between Kirkwall and Orkney, near the standing stones. She was burned, and my father hanged as the husband of a witch. I escaped a similar fate. I was fifteen, but I joined up in the King’s army and went tae France and ended up knighted for my service there. When I came back, I went tae a place where an oak tree grew, and I dug up their remains which I gathered intae a pottery jar after the burning and buried before my flight. Then, at last, I gave her a Christian burial. She was no witch, just an intelligent woman who dared to speak back to power.”
“And is that why ye hate the church in Orkney so much?” said Anne.
“No, lass,” he said. “I hate it so because it keeps honest young folk like ye and yer soon-tae-be husband there from coming intae yer own. I hate it because it holds the poor folk down, in fear and destitution. Well, I would be lying if I did not say that it’s partly because of my mother, but she is only one victim of countless thousands over the years.”
He caught his breath and then spoke again with an effort.
“Go well with him, Anne Gow. Stick by him, lassie, and see that he gets his due. See that my land of Orkney is restored tae the people.”
“I will, Sir Magnus,” said Anne, with feeling. She reached out and took his hand.
She fell asleep there, sitting in the chair holding his hand in the light of the lamp. Her head lolled forward on her chest, and the sound of the sea lulled her into a deep and peaceful sleep. When she woke, she had a painful crick in her neck. Thorvald was standing by her, a look of concern on his face. She still held Sir Magnus’ hand, but now it was cold.
“Is he gone?” asked Thorvald.
She looked at the still figure on the bed, then up at her lover.
“Aye,” she said, “he's gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“We are just in time,” said Iain Grant darkly.
It was dawn, and everyone else was still asleep, but Iain stood with Captain Morton, looking over the water into the busy little bay of Kirkwall harbour.
“What do ye mean?” asked the captain.
“There,” said Iain. “See that flag? The authorities from the High Kirk at Edinburgh travel under that flag. That ship must be carrying the clerics and officials who will confirm Benedict as the bishop. For all we know, it may already have happened.”
“Sickert!” shouted Captain Morton, and the little man appeared nearby, alert and ready for duty as always. “Roust up the Skylness men, ten of the soldiers, and Earl William. We go ashore at once!”
In a short space of time, those the Captain had called were gathered in a little landing craft, rowing hard toward the pier. Sickert had been left in charge of bringing the Endeavour into the harbour. The Caithness Seal was left out in the bay, at anchor, under a strong guard of soldiers.
“Where do we go?” said Captain Morton when they landed.
“The chapel first,” said Iain grimly.
Folk stuck their heads out of their doors and windows and called out to each other as the group passed by. It was clear that something was afoot, and by the time they came into the plaza in front of the cathedral, Iain’s party had quite a following of folk. When they marched up and pushed open the cathedral doors, however, the crowd fell back, muttering.
Inside, all was cool and dim. At first, the place seemed empty, but then they heard low voices muttering up at the other end of the great cavernous building. When the measured tramp of the soldiers began to echo through the hall, the voices changed to questioning tones.
“What’s this?” said an angry-sounding voice. Out into the light of a shaft of the morning sun, immaculately dressed in a beautiful robe of dark green, stepped Benedict. Behind him, a group of officials and priests clustered together, looking with trepidation upon the newcomers.
“Mr Grant!” cried Benedict, “how good tae see ye again! I didn’t recognise ye!” But the smile on his face did not reach his eyes, and his enthusiasm sounded rather forced.
“This is the man?” asked the Earl of Caithness, not looking at Benedict but at Iain.
“This is he,” Iain confirmed grimly.
“Very well, then. Carry on.”
“Captain Morton, arrest this man,” said Iain.
“Wait a moment, wait a moment,” said one of the officials, stepping forward. “This man is tae be appointed Bishop of this place in three hours. On what authority do ye arrest him?”
“On my authority,” said the Earl. “I am William Sinclair, the tenth Earl of Caithness, and I’m taking command here in Orkney for the moment. This man and others here are accused of heinous crimes. We have documents of proof. There is a long road ahead of us, but we will begin today.”
It was a dramatic scene, but in the end, Benedict himself went quietly. He made no protest, walking with his head held high away from the cathedral, led toward the palace by the Earl and his men. There, Earl William commandeered the Palace and announced that he was in charge. He summoned the local magistrates and presented what they had found. He told them the story first, of Thorvald and the inheritance, but it was when he came to talk about the inheritance itself to them that they were really shocked.
“For there was more to it than stolen money and hoarded power,” he said. “When, in the early hours of this morning, after Sir Magnus’ death, we had opened the packet containing the inheritance, they found that it contained more than property deeds. It also contained ten sheets of paper, on which were lists of names, dates, and locations. At first, we did not realise what we were looking at, but on closer inspection, we realised that it was a list of crimes. The lad Thorvald entrusted that part of the documentation tae me.”
To the fascination of the magistrates, he brought out the papers from his jerkin and laid them on the table before them. There were murders there, and kidnappings, embezzlements and robberies. And beside every name, there was a reference to a map, or a set of documents in Rognvald’s private files, proof, in fact, of a heinous record of abuses by a small cabal of men at the top of an incredibly powerful institution.
It took some time – many weeks, in fact – but the presence of the Earl of Caithness and his men caused the documents to be gone through in detail, and the result was the complete dismantling of the power system in the Islands. The Earl took charge of things in the ensuing power vacuum, and Thorvald, overwhelmed by the responsibility of his new office, appointed Earl William as his regent until he had learned more about his role and his holdings. The Earl was happy to help, and Iain Grant agreed to stay on for several months to tutor Thorvald in the skills needed to handle his new responsibility.
It was a source of chagrin to all concerned that the disgraced clerics were never prosecuted for their crimes. Not one of the men on Rognvald’s list stood trial, not even Benedict or Hallam. They were allowed their freedom while the prosecution was awaited, and one night they left en masse on a ship which had come from the continent. They took with them a great deal of material wealth – jewels, tapestries, and gold and silver coinage and bullion. Earl William had sent for more of his men from the mainland, but even then his men were not numerous enough to keep a watch on all of them, and they still held enough sway in Orkney that few were prepared to actively hinder their passage.
For all the frustration that brought, there was one villain who was brought to justice and one hero who was given the respect he deserved. The hero was Seamus McMillan, who was transported back to Harrow and buried in the Kirkyard there, with his friends all around the graveside. The villain was Neil Gow-Sinclair, who was hanged for piracy at Kirkwall under the authority of the Earl on the 3rd of March, 1773.
That was a grim morning for Anne. They had been back on Orkney for a few days at that point, and the place was in a state of great excitement.
When Anne tried to speak to him before the execution, he spat at her and missed. She ste
pped away from him and turned away, walking off as the magistrate pronounced sentence. So it was that Thorvald witnessed the execution, but Anne Gow did not.
Afterwards, Earl William took Anne aside and spoke with her. They were in a room at the palace, and Anne was taking a glass of wine to steady her.
“I... I knew yer father, ye know,” he said to her, “a long time ago. He was a good man, though perhaps a little naïve. It was for his sake, and for yours that I shielded Neil as I did. If I had known how things were for ye...”
“Do not think of it,” said Anne. “It’s over now. Thorvald and I will be married – at least we will be as soon as we can find a churchman who is not corrupt, and then all will be well.”
They laughed at that, and Earl William left it there.
After a little while, the clerk, Mason, came in to see if he needed anything.
“No, thank ye,” said the Earl distractedly.
“Are ye well, sir?” asked Mason carefully.
“Oh, aye,” said the Earl with a jolt, then laughed. “I was just unsure of whether or not I should tell her. I didn’t, in the end.”
“Tell her, sir? Tell her what?”
The Earl looked at him, levelly for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath and confirmed what the clerk had long suspected.
“I didn’t tell her the truth about her father, Mason,” he said. “I didn’t tell her that, as a young man, I was guilty of infidelity with a woman I knew. That she gave birth and died in doing so, and that, once the girl was five years old, I handed her over into to the care of my cousin Neil. That was before the drink took ahold of him, ye know. He was a different man then, a bit of a rabble-rouser, yes, but a different man from the mad dog who we had hanged this morning.”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“We were close, back then, and he had people around him who would help him with the girl. He had a strong right arm, and I trusted him. Later, after he turned privateer, he took the lassie with him off tae America against my wishes, and I’d given up all hope of seeing her again. Then, all those years later, he came back, and he threatened me with her safety, and he threatened tae expose me for my youthful folly. Well, I could have cared less about my own safety, but it was the girl that I was trying tae protect. Neil had changed, and I did not know what tae do then. I’d just been made the Earl, ye know and... anyway. Ye ken what happened.”
The clerk nodded sagely.
“I often suspected there was more tae it than the relationship of cousins,” he said. Mason had, of course, been privy to the Earl’s financial transactions, and knew that he sheltered Neil in the old castle.
“Aye, I knew ye did. And I appreciate yer not prying further. Ye are a good servant, Mr Mason, and... aye, I don’t mind saying it – ye are a good friend. Do ye think I did the right thing?”
“Who can tell?” said the Clerk. “What else could ye have done?”
“Why I could have marched down there with a hundred men and just taken the girl!” said William, slapping a fist into his palm.
“Not really yer style, Earl William, if I may make so bold as tae say so,” said the clerk.
William laughed. “No, indeed,” he said. “And I suppose such questions are vain now. All’s well that ends well, eh, Mr Mason?”
“So they say, sir,” said the clerk. “So they say.”
“What fools men are,” William muttered, shaking his head. The clerk made a non-committal noise in his throat and rose to bring his master a glass of wine.
* * *
Anne found Thorvald standing out by the pier, his hands in his pockets, watching the ships.
“The Earl seems troubled,” she said to him. He turned to face her, smiling as he saw her coming, the chilly winter wind bringing the rose out in her cheeks.
“Do ye know why?”
She shrugged.
“I think he feels like a fool for sheltering my uncle for so long, and not keeping a closer watch on him.”
“Hm,” said Thorvald.
“What do ye mean, ‘Hm’?” she asked sharply, slipping her arm through his as they walked along the pier. “Come on, man, ye can talk tae me.”
He laughed, a little shyly.
“Yes, I suppose I can talk tae ye,” he said. “Well, I was just thinking, if Earl Willian had kept a closer eye on his ne’er-do-well cousin well, it’s likely that none of this would have happened. Neil might not have been available for hire, and Benedict might have chosen some subtler means of doing away with me. Who knows where we might be then?”
Anne shuddered.
“I dread tae think,” she said with feeling.
“No regrets, then?”
She looked up into his face and kissed him firmly on the mouth. When they broke their kiss, she met his eyes.
“None,” she said.
That night, there was one more important thing to see to. Sir Magnus Bain’s will had been uncovered as per his request, and in it, they had found the curious instruction that he wished to have a funeral in what he referred to as ‘the old Norse style’. When they asked what this meant, the town elders informed them that this meant a funeral pyre at sea, in a burning boat, ideally the boat of an enemy. Earl William was eager to grant Sir Magnus’ last request, and since the Caithness Seal was in the harbour, and had been the ship of Sir Magnus’ enemy, they all agreed that it should be done.
They were sitting wondering where this elaborate and dangerous operation could take place when Thorvald suggested, “What about Skylness?”
So it came about that, the evening after Neil Gow’s execution, Anne and Thorvald stood with Earl William, Iain, Alice and John, and all the villagers of Skylness, as two small tugboats drew the Caithness Seal round the headland and set her afloat in the deep bay, rowing quickly away. For once, the wind was only light. On the boat, Sir Magnus had been placed in the tent which had been used on the voyage home, and all the valuable items had been moved from the ship. There was nothing on board but bales of straw soaked with oil, and Sir Magnus Bain, arms crossed by his sides, his great axe lying across his chest. Flammable oil had been poured down the sides of the boat, and it only took one lighted arrow, fired from the bank for the ship to catch.
John and Alice looked at one another in the glowing, flickering light of the conflagration, and looked forward to getting home. Iain Grant watched the flames and thought of the great responsibility his brother had laid on him, to see that these two young people doing so well in the roles that had been thrust upon them.
But Anne and Thorvald did not watch the fire. In the ruddy glow of the great burning, they had eyes only for the other. They watched each other’s faces, holding hands as the mast of the great ship cracked and crashed down, splitting the burning ship in two. In the gasp of the crowd, her eyes met his, and she mouthed two words and smiled.
“No regrets.”
The End
But there’s more…
Eager to learn what the future holds for Anne and Thorvald?
Then you may enjoy this extended epilogue.
Simply tap here and you can read it for FREE, or use this link:
https://www.kennakendrick.com/jssp
Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, Fighting for a Highland Lass. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write your review HERE?
It is very important for me to read your thoughts about my book, in order to get better at writing.
Please use the link below:
https://www.kennakendrick.com/xhxb
Defenders of the Highlands
Book#1
Fighting for a Highland Rose
* * *
Book#2
Fighting for a Highland Heart
* * *
Book#3 (this book)
Fighting for a Highland Lass
Do you want more Romance?
If you’re a true fan of the Scottish romance genre, here are the first chapters of the prequel t
o this story, which was my first best-selling novel: Fighting for a Highland Heart
This is the story of a love born in the sea. It's about two people who must fight against everyone and everything to find their place in life and where their hearts lie…
* * *
Fighting for a Highland Heart
Chapter One
Fighting For A Highland Lass (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 3) Page 25