by King, Susan
"I can get free myself, with a little help."
"Ask what ye will o' me, man. I will do what I can."
* * *
Edinburgh was unlike anything Elspeth had imagined, a dramatic citadel above teeming streets. She saw a soaring wedge of rock crowned by a silhouetted castle, and the sloping city beneath, hung with a blue haze of smoke. A single broad street with a maze of cobbled side streets, crowded with tenements and people. Thousands, it seemed to her, wherever she looked, along the streets, in doorways and staircases, hanging out of windows, leaning against walls eyeing the Highlanders as they rode past on their short, sturdy horses. Even in Inverness, she had never seen such a conglomeration of people. Unaccustomed to such crowds, she tensed her hands on the reins and rode on.
Nor had she anticipated the sneering laughter as they entered the city. Silent and wary, following Alasdair as he led them along, she and her cousins heard the hoots and guffaws of Lowlanders who seemed to find their Highland dress quite amusing. Her cousins wore their wrapped and brooched plaids over linen shirts, with deerskin vests and plaid trews added for warmth. With their bonnets stuck with sprigs of Fraser yew, and swords and dirks gleaming at their wide belts, she thought they looked like fine, strong young warriors. She was proud to ride among them, and could not understand the mockery.
She also understood very little of the words that were called out, for the language was Scots English. But tone, gesture and expression were accurate translators.
"Do not be concerned, girl," Alasdair murmured as she pulled her horse even with his. "There is strong sentiment against Highlanders recently. You are seeing some of that. Ignore it." He smiled at her, and she nodded.
"Where do we go," he continued, "now that you have brought us here? Shall we look in Duncan's rooms for him—he rents a floor of a house just down the way here—or shall we inquire if he is at the castle? He may be with Kirkcaldy of Grange, the captain of the castle, or with members of the Council."
Elspeth shook her head. "He is in the prison. I feel it is so, and he needs us. Where would the prison be?"
Alasdair frowned at her. "Castle dungeon or city tolbooth? A prisoner of Duncan's rank would be in the castle, I think. If he has been incarcerated at all."
"If Elspeth says it is so," Hugh said, riding behind them, "then we will assume it is true."
"Take us up to the castle," Callum said.
Alasdair looked from her to the cousins who flanked her, and then nodded. Lifting her chin proudly, she followed Alasdair, her cousins close behind. Alasdair insisted, first, that they stable their horses in the town. Then they walked up the incline of the castle rock, where a tower housed the gate.
Gaining admittance when Alasdair explained to the guards that Elspeth was the wife of a Council lawyer, the Frasers entered the citadel, leaving their weapons with the gatesman. They walked to a building on the south side of the palace yard, which, Alasdair explained, held both the royal apartments and the dungeons.
At a door in one inner corner, Alasdair spoke to a pair of guards in steel breastplates and helmets. Hugh, who understood some of the Scots tongue, went with Alasdair, asking questions himself. Elspeth waited anxiously, hearing Duncan's name several times, and hearing Robert's name as well. Beside her, Callum, Ewan and Kenneth stood, solid and steady. She glanced at them, and a rush of emotion flooded her heart: her young cousins were men, with little trace of the lads she had always seen in them.
Hugh, standing with Alasdair, was serious and stern, though she knew the gentleness layered beneath; Kenneth and Callum understood loyalty so well that she knew they would willingly give up their lives for her or for Duncan; Ewan might have the soul of a poet, but he had the heart of a warrior, and would not shrink from fighting for Duncan if the need came. Now more than ever before, she saw a deepening maturity in her cousins. Loyal and calm, they stood beside her now, and she knew they would support her in trying to help Duncan. They would see the end of this nightmare with her, no matter the outcome. She closed her eyes briefly, grateful for the blessing of these men in her life.
She opened her eyes to see Alasdair and Hugh turn away from the guards at the door and walk back toward her.
"There has been a trial," Alasdair said. Elspeth nodded, hardly surprised, her gaze fixed on his face. Though she dreaded hearing the rest, she knew that she must.
"Charges were brought against Duncan by the Privy Council through trial by witness—a fast method, with Robert as the sole witness to Duncan's crimes. He was found guilty of disturbing the queen's peace, countenancing with a clan under bond, and agreeing to a catholic rite."
"Dhia," Elspeth said. "Where is he now?"
"He is here in the dungeon, just as you said he would be. But we may not see him. Only Robert and a few others have been allowed in on the queen's business. The guards have orders that his wife and family are not to be permitted to see him."
"Why? What is the harm?" Elspeth's heart began to pound heavily. She felt Hugh's hand on her shoulder.
Alasdair looked away, and looked back again, his brown eyes sober. "He has been condemned to a beheading in four days."
She wanted to close her eyes and fade into the haze that clouded her eyesight, but she could not allow herself that. Taking a deep breath, and then another, she faced Alasdair. Hugh gripped her shoulder, and she felt Kenneth's hand on her back.
"I want to see him."
"He is denied visitors," Alasdair said gently.
"I will see him," she said, fisting her hands. "Only Robert is allowed into his cell?" Alasdair nodded in answer.
"And where is Robert?" Kenneth asked. "It is time we dealt with the man." Callum and Ewan muttered agreement.
"The guards do not know where he is staying," Hugh said.
"Take me to Duncan's rented chambers," Elspeth said. "I know where Robert may be."
Alasdair frowned, perplexed, and then led them out of the castle and back down the incline to the High Street.
* * *
"Here," Elspeth said. "Regard my half-brother Robert." She turned slowly around, spreading wide the black cloak that covered her from head to foot. Her cousins, crowded into the little antechamber that fronted Duncan's rented rooms, looked at her with amazement and pleasure.
An hour earlier, Alasdair had used a few coins to convince Duncan's house servant to admit Macrae's wife and depart himself. Then Elspeth had closed the door to Duncan's bedchamber and set about going through his cupboards. She had found a silk shirt, black trews and a padded black doublet, a black bonnet and the long cloak.
Trying on the clothing, she had paused once to hold the silk shirt to her face, breathing in the ghost of Duncan's own scent. A subtle trace of leather and spices, blended with an elusive drift of maleness, made her catch her breath. She had held in a sob, swallowing it, refusing to allow herself to break. Not yet, she had repeated to herself, not yet.
No matter that the garments were too large. Tucking and pulling, tying and rolling, she achieved a semblance of fit. She found a pair of black leather soft-cuffed boots, too large, and stuffed them with silk torn from the shirt to fit her feet. Tucking her red-gold hair up under the bonnet, letting some strands hang down, she had stepped into the outer room.
Now, as her cousins perused her critically, she waited for their pronouncement. Standing as tall as she could, she looked at them with a sour, pinched expression.
Kenneth suddenly burst out laughing, followed by Ewan and then Callum. Elspeth grimaced in a way that only Robert would do, and rolled her eyes disdainfully. Hugh smiled.
Alasdair shook his head. "We have somber troubles, and the girl takes to jesting."
"This is no jest," she said. "I mean to get into the dungeon this way."
"Well, you have no hope of getting in any other way," he replied. "This folly may get you thrown into the cell beside your man."
"A fine idea," she said firmly.
"We had better go at dark, if we can," Hugh said. "She looks like him in her coloring and slight size
, but she would not fool too many for long. We must hurry her through somehow."
"I will—" she began.
"Elspeth," Alasdair said, "do not speak. You make Robert sound like a girl."
* * *
"Master Robert Gordon to see the prisoner Macrae of Dulsie," Alasdair said. His tone was so authoritative that Elspeth felt a wave of admiration. Keeping the hood of her cloak over her head, she nodded perfunctorily at the guard. He glanced up briefly as she passed through the dark doorway. Behind her, the Frasers and Alasdair were suddenly detained.
She had not expected that. Heart beating rapidly, she resisted the urge to look back at them. Another guard approached her, a burly man in steel and leather, carrying a sputtering torch. She followed him along the narrow rough-stone passageway, trying to lope in the manner of her half-brother.
"Yer back again, are ye, Master?" the guard asked. His tone was sly, but Elspeth did not know what he had asked.
She grunted. He did too.
They came to a wooden door, reinforced with iron bands. The guard fitted a large key into the lock. "Duncan Macrae of Dulsie," he called out.
The door screeched open, and the guard stood back. She cast him a nervous glance, and stepped into the blackness.
And fell through the dense shadows, smacking hard on her knees against cold stone. The floor of the cell, she realized, was well below the corridor level. Robert would have known that.
"Oof," she said, sitting up. "Ach."
"Would ye like a light, there, Master Gordon?" the guard asked.
"What in the name of—Hob!" Duncan called. "Leave that torch!" Hearing his voice in the dark, Elspeth's heart began to hammer. Then she heard an odd sound, scraping and clinking, as he came nearer. She noticed, too, that the air was redolent with unpleasant odors emanating from old straw and slimy walls.
The door creaked again, and Elspeth looked up. An amber glow filled the small cell as the guard bent down to hand her the torch. She got to her feet and reached up for the light.
"Jesu," Hob said. "A wee lassie, is it?"
"My wife," Duncan drawled. "Mo céile," he translated, for her benefit. She nodded hesitantly and looked at the guard.
"Jesu," Hob said again. Grinning, he handed her the torch.
"Thank you, Hob," Duncan said. When the door squealed shut, he stepped forward into the light.
Elspeth gasped. He was dark and gaunt, long hair to his shoulders, his beard black, his eyes shadowed. Around his wrists and ankles hung heavy iron bands with attached chains. Despite his shocking appearance, he stood tall and proud, gazing at her with a deep frown.
"Duncan," she breathed.
He remained motionless. "What are you doing here?"
She stepped forward. "I knew you were here, I felt it, and had to come. My cousins are with me. What can we do to help?"
"You can leave," he said, turning away. "I have no need of your help."
Elspeth stood there, holding the torch, watching his back, wide and muscled beneath the thin shirt he wore. She came forward and placed one hand on his shoulder. He tensed, and in that instant, she felt his strength, and his misery as well.
Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to hold him again, feel his arms around her, his warmth, his solidness. But he had put up a cold wall between them, invisible and real. That shield hurt her deeply, a wrenching ache; she feared that he truly hated her for predicting his death. She felt, in her own misery, as if she had led him to it.
"Ah, Duncan," she murmured. "I know you are angry with me. I am the one who brought you to this. I am sorry." She choked back a sob. "I will do whatever I can to get you pardoned. I will appeal to the Council."
Duncan was silent. She felt the tension in his muscles. "There is nothing you can do," he finally said. He drew a deep breath. "Go away from here, and do not come back."
"Ah, Dhia," she said. "Please forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, girl," he said softly.
"Hold me," she whispered.
"I cannot," he said. "I am chained."
Gasping back tears, she leaned her head into his back, circling one arm around his waist.
She heard a gruff sound, and he turned. His hands, restricted in the iron cuffs, grabbed around her waist through the thick cloak and overlarge doublet. She balanced the torch and held onto him, her body trembling suddenly.
"I am sorry," she said. "So sorry. The vision—"
"Hush you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You have done nothing. This is between me and your half-brother."
"What do you mean?"
"Pay it no mind," he said. "Only go. You endanger yourself and your cousins by visiting a condemned man." His beard brushed her forehead.
"I will appeal to the Council. Alasdair will help me. Tell me what to do. Please."
He sighed. "Stubborn girl. Listen to me. Do not talk to anyone but Moray and Maitland. If the other members of the Council learn the Frasers are here, they may have your cousins up on charges as well for breaking the queen's peace."
"Moray and Maitland," she said. "Where do I find them?"
"They are both away from Edinburgh," he said. "My cousin Hob has smuggled out messages for me. That is the most that can be done now." He pushed her gently from him. "Go, now."
"Do not send me away."
"Elspeth." His voice swept over her like dark velvet, soft and deep and comforting. "Mo càran. You look like an angel come down from heaven into this piece of hell." He stepped back into the shadows, ankle chains dragging. "Leave now."
She hesitated. "Wait—" she began to tug at her well-padded doublet, and pulled out a loaf of bread, then another, a wrapped cheese, and a flask. Holding the torch, she set the food on the floor. "Alasdair said you would need food. And this—" she tugged again, and pulled out a heavy bag of coins. "We found it in your cupboard," she confessed.
Duncan nodded. "That will buy some handsome bribes."
"You will need these—" Bouncing around, she pulled off the boots. "They are yours. And take the cloak against the cold." She undid the cloak and tossed it to him. "We have been in your rooms."
"I see. Whatever is there is yours, Elspeth."
"I will bring clean clothes and more food."
His steady gaze burned, like blue fire. "Do not come back. It would not be safe for you." He turned away abruptly.
"The day I had that cursed vision, I told you that your death would be mine. I know what that means now," she said. "I cannot bear it if you are not with me." The words echoed across the cold chamber.
"You will survive this," he said. "You are strong."
"You are my anam, Duncan. My soul."
"You will live," he said firmly. "Remember the child in your vision." He looked over his shoulder. "Are you—"
She drew in her breath on a shaking sob. "I do not yet know," she said. "It may be."
"Go," he said then. "Go now, or break my heart."
Chapter 24
There is a fancy in my head
That I'll reveal to thee,
And your assistance I will crave
If ye will grant it me.
~"The Twa Knights"
Climbing out of the dark cell, Elspeth handed the torch to Hob. He shut and locked the door, and Elspeth turned back to lay her hand against the door, pressing her forehead to the rough wood. Her breath came in a shallow rhythm. She felt numb, suspended in a dark void without emotion or sensation. She was afraid to feel, knowing how much it would hurt when she did.
Hob set a large, gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and followed him down the corridor. In her stockinged feet and without the cloak, the stone passageway was chilly and damp. But she did not care; she hardly felt the discomfort.
Hob approached the guard who had admitted her, thinking her to be Robert Gordon. The man gave her a startled glance, but Hob murmured something that made him laugh softly.
She walked outside, to where Alasdair and the others waited in the dark courtyard. Kenneth rushed to her, taking
her arm. Behind her, she heard Hob speak in hushed Scots to Alasdair and Hugh. When she turned, Hob gave her a kind nod before going back inside the bleak prison corridor.
"The man is Duncan's cousin," Alasdair said, coming near.
She nodded. "He wants us to meet with him in a tavern tomorrow," Alasdair continued. "And he spoke of you, Elspeth."
She frowned at him. "What did he say?"
"He wants you to know that you remind him of a young woman whom he much admires, a very great and beautiful lady who also dresses in men's black hose and doublet from time to time. But she does it for amusement, and what you do here is no game. He understands your wish to save your husband's life, and he will do what he can to help you."
She nodded. "Who is the lady he mentioned?"
"Mary the Queen."
* * *
Elspeth sat and waited as her cousins finished an early midday dinner of meat pies, bought in a town shop. She had eaten some bread, light and fine-textured, unlike any she had ever tasted, and had taken a little watered wine, but her churning stomach could not tolerate meat. A subtle, draining lethargy suffused her body, and she had little appetite. At first she had thought this was due to her overwhelming distress, but she knew that the child—she was certain of it now, though she had not mentioned to her cousins—could sap strength in the beginning.
She had slept much of the morning, having agreed to wait in Duncan's rooms while her cousins had gone out to meet with Hob Kerr. Alasdair had said that a woman dressed as a Highlander in public would only attract attention to them. Now she was impatient to know what had gone on during their meeting.
Alasdair swallowed the last of his meal and wiped his hands on his plaid. "Hob does not know if Duncan will gain the pardon he wants," he said. "He has smuggled out two letters for Duncan, to the secretary Maitland and to the Earl of Moray. But both men are away. Moray is at Stirling, not far from here, but Maitland, who knows Duncan best, is in England. Hob does not know if the letters will reach them before the date of the execution. And who knows what either man will decide to do upon receiving word."
She drew in her breath. "Has the date been set?"