Love's Ransom

by Kirkwood, Gwen

  ‘Yes, Mistress Isabella, but…’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t know if I can k-kill a man, even an evil fellow like Snodd. Master Walter has gone ahead. I –I hope he will deal with him before he can harm you.’

  ‘I am not afraid with both you and Walter watching over me. Someone must teach Snodd a lesson though or he will keep trying to waylay Nell and me. Remember Nell Duncan if you need to use your pistol. He would not hesitate to harm her.’

  The sun had gone down and darkness was falling fast. A chill wind had sprung up and Isabella gave a shudder and tightened her grip on the reins. Beauty pricked her ears, sensing her mistress’s tension. Isabella leaned forward and patted her neck to reassure the little mare.

  ‘Oh Mistress do keep a tight hold on the reins. We’re near Snodd’s place and I dinna see any sign of Master Nixon, or his horse.’

  ‘I was only comforting Beauty. Horses are sensitive to our moods. Master Henry said Moonlight always understood his. He loved her dearly. How do you like having her for your own horse, Duncan?’

  ‘Oh I love her, Mistress,’ Duncan responded with youthful eagerness. ‘I never dreamed I would ride a horse like this.’

  ‘I knew you would treat her well. Walter told me you have gentle hands and a kindly heart.’

  ‘Please, let me ride a wee bit in front, Mistress?’ Duncan urged. ‘Snodd has some sly tricks.’ He edged half a neck ahead but they were still close together when a rope shot up across the track. A pistol shot rang out, quickly followed by another. The rope fell. A man screamed. Beauty would have reared but Isabella was prepared and she threw herself forward close to the mare’s neck, clinging on and trying to soothe her horse as she galloped forward, trailing the rope with her hind leg. This frightened her even more. Isabella managed to turn her, leaving the rope behind. It was only then she realised Duncan had been thrown from his horse. Her heart pounded with fear for him. Moonlight was galloping back the way they had come. Isabella guided Beauty to Duncan’s side and slid from her back.

  ‘Are you badly hurt, Duncan?’ She knelt beside him, smoothing his brow. He blinked his eyes and tried to lift his head. Confused and bruised though he was he saw Moonlight disappearing up the track. He put two fingers to his mouth and gave a piercing whistle then sank back against Isabella’s arm. Moonlight slowed, then came to a halt. Duncan gave a low whistle and the mare walked back to him.

  ‘Jesu! I thought it was a ghost horse! And her husband with her.’ Snodd uttered several oaths. Isabella remembered the brawny blacksmith had a fear of magic and ghosts. He had believed Henry had magical powers.

  ‘It’s lucky your head did not hit a stone, Duncan,’ Isabella said with concern. ‘You’re going to have a nasty bruise and a headache for a day or two.’ She pretended bewilderment. ‘I think somebody wanted to kill us.’

  ‘’Tisna him ye should be thinking about,’ Snodd whined as Duncan sat up. They both looked at Snodd sprawled on the grass at the edge of the track, one hand clutching his shoulder. Even in the fading light they could see blood trickling through his fingers. His leg seemed to be bleeding too. ‘Somebody tried to kill me. I’ll see him hang, whoever he is,’ he muttered, rocking backward and forward as he clutched his wound. Duncan struggled to his feet and shook his head, trying to clear it. He had fallen heavily and the world had a tendency to spin.

  Walter came riding jauntily up the track as though he was just arriving on the scene. He was a good shot and he had aimed at Snodd’s shoulder to make him drop the willow plait. He had aimed at Snodd’s leg to teach the man a lesson. Duncan had been right, the willow rope was almost invisible if he had not been looking for it. He had hidden his horse further down the track then moved quietly through the bushes and mounted to ride back.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked feigning innocence. He looked from one to the other. ‘Are you hurt, Duncan, laddie?’

  ‘N-no Master Walter. The horses were startled. Moonlight turned sae fast I fell off. I’ll be all right in a wee while.’ He approached his mare cautiously, murmuring gentle words to soothe the trembling animal.

  ‘Who’s this groaning?’ Walter asked with a wink at Isabella as he turned to Snodd. ‘Did your horse throw you too, Snodd?’ The blacksmith uttered another string of oaths.

  ‘You know damn well I havena got a horse. Somebody tried to kill me.’

  ‘He must have been a poor shot then if he wanted to kill a man your size.’

  ‘He hit ma shoulder.’ He looked down at his wound. ‘I’m bleeding to death,’ he yelled hysterically. ‘Ye’ll need tae get help. I canna move. He shot me in ma leg.’ Snodd was almost weeping in his pain and frustration.

  ‘Aye, it’s a pity Mr Henry isna here to dress your wounds with his magic salves,’ Walter mused. ‘Ye’ll need to bring a curse down on the man who made a hole in the garden fence and let in the wild boar that killed him.’ Isabella paled as she listened.

  ‘Did someone really weaken the fence?’

  ‘Aye, we found the damage,’ Walter said, serious now. They had no proof of the culprit but he and Thomas suspected Snodd could have done it deliberately. ‘Don’t worry Isabella. We mended it well and it’s rare for wild boars to come so near. It was probably starving.

  ‘Thank you, Walter,’ Isabella said with relief. ‘If you could help Mr Snodd into his house I will go and make up a salve to cleanse his wounds and something to soothe the pain.’ Normally she would have attended to them herself but she did not trust Snodd even now he was wounded. ‘Maybe one of your neighbours will help you dress the wounds,’ she said.

  ‘I want young Nell,’ Snodd demanded.

  ‘No!’ Duncan’s voice rose.

  ‘I cannot spare Nell,’ Isabella said firmly. ‘You must depend on your friends.’

  ‘If he has any,’ Walter muttered under his breath. ‘Come on then, Duncan. Are you well enough to help this hulking great man into his cottage?’

  ‘I’ll go and make up the salves,’ Isabella said. ‘Come to me Duncan and I will have a drink ready to ease your headache, and a salve for your bruises. You could have been killed,’ she added, glaring at Snodd, letting him know she was aware he was responsible and deserved his punishment.’

  The following morning when Sir William heard what had happened with Snodd he sought Isabella out.

  ‘Are you sure you were not injured, my dear?’

  ‘I am fine thank you. Duncan had warned me. He got the worst of it.’

  ‘Yes, I see his face is badly bruised. He is a good lad but I don’t think I should be entrusting you to someone so young with men like Snodd about.’

  ‘I feel perfectly safe with Duncan,’ Isabella laughed. ‘As for Mr Snodd it will be a while before he plays vile tricks again.’

  ‘He never forgets a grudge. His father was the same. You would be safe if you were to marry me. He would not dare to harm my wife.’

  ‘M-marry you…’ Isabella repeated faintly. The colour drained from her face.

  ‘Haven’t I always looked after you and treated you kindly, Isabella?’

  ‘Y-yes, of course and – and I am grateful, b-but I do not want to marry. You promised Henry you would not force me to marry again.’

  ‘And I shall not break my promise to a dying man. I am not forcing you.’ His tone hardened and his blue eyes glinted, no longer twinkling and kind. ‘But I am telling you it would be better for you if you see things my way.’ He reached for her hand to draw her closer but Isabella resisted.

  ‘I don’t want to marry you. You are grandfather to my children.’

  ‘I am not so old that I could not sire another son to take Henry’s place, maybe several sons with a young and robust wife. Twice I have been denied…’

  ‘You craved for a grandson. You have Alex.’

  ‘Many children die. There would be safety in numbers.’

  ‘No!’ Isabella gasped. ‘Alex must not die. I take good care of him. He is healthy and strong. He will grow to manhood and follow in your footsteps.’

&nbs
p; ‘You have no one except me to watch over you and your children. Consider what I say, Isabella and consider well.’

  Was he threatening her? Isabella ran from him and she kept on running up the spiral stairs until she arrived breathless in the safety of her own room, but was she safe, even here? He might not force her to marry him but would he come to her some night without warning?

  ***

  Father Oliver’s health had deteriorated quicker than he had expected. The cold spell of weather showed signs of a severe winter and he sent for Father Barron.

  ‘I would like you to travel to Moyenstane Tower before the winter sets in.’

  ‘But if the winter is a harsh one, as you are predicting, Father, I may have to stay there until the spring. What good could I do there? The children are still too young to need me as their tutor.’

  ‘I believe your presence will reassure Isabella and as a priest it will be a deterrent to Sir William.’

  ‘A deterrent? What sort of deterrent’

  ‘Zander feared Sir William would try to persuade Isabella to marry him, even though she has given him a grandson. You are a man of God. Although Sir William feigns impatience of our teachings and would like to shun us and deny God, he fears for his own soul. He is superstitious, although he would not admit to such weakness. You would be a constant reminder of the promise he made to his son.’

  ‘What promise?’

  ‘Henry asked his father to promise he would not force Isabella to marry again. He will keep a deathbed promise I think, but If she agrees to marry of her own free will that would be a different matter. While Zander is absent Sir William may try every persuasion.

  Father Barron was reluctant to set out for Moyenstane Tower, knowing he would not be a welcome visitor and would have to spend the winter there but he had given his word to Father Oliver. The week after the old priest’s funeral he set out on his journey west, with Father Oliver’s donkey tethered behind his horse. The pannier baskets were filled with packets of herbs and medicinal brews, spice and seeds, books and paper, all as his mentor had instructed.

  Isabella welcomed Father Barron warmly and, young though they were, her children followed her example, as did Nell and young Duncan. The two little girls sought him out whenever they could, pleading with him to show them games, draw them pictures or tell them stories. When the weather was suitable they followed him out to the garden and listened attentively when he told them stories of plants and animals. He was surprised at Isabella’s knowledge of the herbs and her eagerness to learn all he could tell her about healing and medicines. She asked if he would teach Nell and Duncan their letters and to write their names.

  ‘But Sir William?’ Father Barron said in consternation when she first mentioned this, ‘He does not consider servants should be able to read and write. Most of the Clan Chiefs feel the same. It is as though they are afraid the devil will enter them and make them rebels.’

  ‘I know but my father disagreed. Not all of our servants wanted to learn but he thought they should be given the opportunity to learn to read. Sam, the man who first brought me here and acted as my guide over the marshland, could write a little and he could read the bible and add up figures. I would like Nell and Duncan to do the same so that they will be able to read the labels of the medicines.’

  ‘I see, now I understand.’ He smiled. ‘I am sure opportunities can be made,’ Father Barron was pleased that his time at Moyenstane Tower would not be entirely wasted. ‘And speaking of counting, your daughters can already count their fingers and toes I see. I may be able to teach them their letters while I am here.’

  Christmas was a happier time than any Isabella had spent since she had been away from her family. Father Barron was happy to lead the services in the local church in place of their local priest who was getting old and troubled with a persistent cough whenever he talked for more than a few minutes. The children were delighted with the small wooden stable which Father Barron constructed and they helped Nell make a thatched roof. Duncan helped him to carved some sheep and other wooden animals while Father Barron quietly seized every opportunity to teach them numbers and letters as they worked. He made a donkey himself and small wooden figures for Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and three wise men. Nell sewed simple clothes for them from the bag of material pieces which Isabella kept for mending and patching. Even Alex enjoyed helping his sisters arrange and re-arrange the animals, learning to count as they played.

  Shortly after Christmas a mild spell of weather allowed them all outdoors again and Mamie was delighted when she found the tiny white flowers beneath the fruit bushes.

  ‘These are snowdrops,’ Father Barron told her. ‘They are the first flowers of the year and a sign that beneath the hard cold earth other plants are beginning to grow.’ Sir William rarely ventured into the garden but he too, was tempted by the mild spell of weather.

  ‘It is a sign that spring is on the way,’ he said, ‘So, Father, you will be setting out on your journey to the monastery tomorrow? Or perhaps the day after?’ Father Barron looked surprised, then he flushed. The look in the Clan Chief’s cold blue eyes told him he was not expected to prolong his visit.

  ‘We don’t want Father Barron to go away,’ Nettie said and seized his hand. Following her sister’s example, Mamie agreed and seized his other hand. Isabella smiled but her father-in-law scowled.

  ‘I fear this mild weather is no more than a pretence that winter is over. I believe the worst is still to come and I would not like to be caught in a snow storm on my journey,’ Father Barron said quietly but firmly. Both he and Isabella knew that Sir William was not pleased. Tension returned. He called Isabella to his side after they had eaten their evening meal.

  ‘You are spending too much time in the company of the priest,’ he said severely. ‘It is unseemly. He is not a good influence on my grandchildren. I am ordering you to keep them away from him.’ Isabella frowned.

  ‘I cannot agree. He is exceedingly good for them. They listen and learn when he talks to them or tells them stories.’

  ‘I will tell them the sort of stories they ought to hear.’

  ‘No,’ Isabella protested. ‘They are too young and I don’t want them to hear of your adventures when you raided and stole other men’s cattle.’ She blushed ‘And I hope they never hear of the things fighting men did to mothers and sisters.’ She turned on her heel and strode away. He called her back but she did not pause.

  ‘That priest has to go,’ he muttered to Lizzie, and anyone else who might be listening. ‘He is a bad influence.’

  ‘He’s right about the weather though,’ Walter said. He had been supervising the work and animals belonging to Sir William at Moyenstane Tower during Zander’s absence and had stayed for a discussion with his father-in-law during the evening meal. Now he would have to ride home in the dark. Anna was expecting their third baby and he wanted to get back to her. He wished Zander would return. Henry had been an efficient organizer and done more work than any of them had realised. Walter felt it was too much for him on his own in addition to the land and animals belonging to his own family. It was always a struggle as the winter wore on to make sure there was enough food to keep the animals alive. ‘We shall probably be snowed in within a couple of days. That is why I came down today to make sure everything is prepared. I am going home to Anna now. I hope the baby does not come early. She is hoping Isabella will be with her when her time comes.’

  ‘Take her back with you now then,’ Sir William snapped.

  ‘Tonight? In the dark? I would not ask her to do that. The children need her here and Anna is not due to give birth until after the next full moon.’

  A couple of days later Walter’s prophecy came true and they awoke to a world covered in several feet of snow. Tensions grew. Every pair of hands was needed and Father Barron was no slacker when it came to physical work. He and Duncan spent hours breaking through thick ice to get water for the animals, only to find it had frozen again by evening. Their hands were cu
t and raw but neither of them complained. Sir William was cantankerous and grumbled constantly, but he could not fault the young priest, nor could he criticize Isabella’s management of the kitchens. Young though she was she managed to vary their food and make tasty dishes of stews and broths.

  Eventually the snows began to melt and the days grew longer. The animals were allowed outside a few at a time to drink freely at the burn, while the horses were led to the big trough beside the well which could now be filled each day without fear of it freezing within the hour.

  Father Barron was pleased to escape from the tensions of the Tower for an hour or so. He saddled his horse and rode west along the glen. He went alone, needing peace. Sheep were foraging for food amongst the rocks and ledges higher on the hills and he knew they too would be enjoying the improvement in the weather and the approach of spring. He was surprised when he came upon a half built house beside a burn. It stood alone, some distance from Moyenstane Tower. He dismounted and tethered his horse to a tree so that he could take a better look. The outer walls were stone and of sturdy construction. The roof was already wind and water tight. It would be quite large when it was finished. It was in a beautiful situation. Presumably the work had been halted by the freezing conditions. It was such a tranquil spot. He bent to drink from the clear water of the burn as it gurgled along over the pebbles.

  He had not ridden far on his return journey when he saw a man carefully guiding his horse down a steep track through the hills from the north. As he drew nearer Father Barron recognised Walter. The two men greeted each other pleasantly before the young priest commented on the house.

  ‘The Long Glen originally belonged to the Latimer family. Sir William took it over when he returned because both Mr and Mrs Latimer were dead and Zander was a young child. The house is supposed to be a secret, but I reckon you’re good at keeping secrets, Father?’

  Fifteen

  Zander had spent the past few months experiencing both frustration and elation. He liked and respected his partner and he understood when Captain Murray was dismayed and anxious when he heard Zander wanted to withdraw from their partnership so soon. He had looked forward to another journey to the east and bringing back more profitable cargoes with a fellow Scotsman who could stay sober and knew how to bargain. He had promised his nephew he could join them and the young man would be sorely disappointed.