by King, Susan
"Duncan," she whispered. "Duncan."
"Dhia!" The word was soft as a prayer, but she knew he swore. He opened his arms and the cloak folded around her like the wide wings of a raven. She caught a sob in her throat and pressed against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body, circling her arms tightly around him under the cloak.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her cheek against his chest. "How is it you are free?"
"Hush," he said, and pulled her with him through the crowd, moving quickly. He drew her into an alley and ran with her to a dark corner. There, the wings of the cloak enveloped her again.
His lips met hers with a fierceness, a passion that she had thought taken from her life. She held onto him and opened her mouth and felt him there, on her lips, against her body, real and solid and hard, one hand on her back, the other smoothing along her jaw, tilting her face to his.
"Duncan," she breathed, "tell me what happened."
He kissed her again and laid his cheek against her hair. "Your cousins," he said. "They brought Robert, and freed me from the prison. But when we thought to leave Robert behind in my place to make his explanations, he tricked us in the dark. Kenneth was left instead. And now he will be brought to the block."
Her trembling knees nearly gave way beneath her. "Kenneth? They would not kill him!"
He pressed her closer. She felt the rasp of his beard on her brow. "They would, mo càran. But there is a way to stop it." He drew back and looked at her. "I want you to go back to my rooms. Stay there until someone comes for you."
"I will not leave you," she said.
"Elspeth—"
She scowled up at him. "I will not. Now that you are free, I will not let you out of my sight."
He sighed. "Then you will have to be very strong, girl, if you will stay. I do not know what will happen."
"I am strong. When you are with me, I am."
He gave her a curious look, a dazzle of blue touched with darkness. She felt chilled by that glance, and stepped back. He smiled, and touched a finger to her chin. "You have a fine will in you, like hard steel. Rely on that now. Promise me."
"I promise." The chill spiralled down to her feet. "But Duncan, you are free. The vision was wrong."
"My girl," he murmured only, and there was deep love in it. He took her hand and walked back to the square.
The rain had lessened, and cold fog had settled in to obscure the castle rock above the town, veiling the church, the empty platform, and the crowd in a gray murk. Within moments Duncan found Alasdair and the rest of her cousins, and murmured to them in quick, hushed tones.
Duncan came to Elspeth and took her hand in his, warm and strong, holding it beneath the cover of his cloak. Hugh and Callum ran off through the crowd and left the square. Ewan faded into the crowd, and Alasdair stood near her.
"They will not bring Kenneth," Elspeth said. "It is past the noon hour now."
"There." Duncan put his arm around Elspeth. "Walking down the slope from the castle. The mist hid them until now."
Several guards and two black-robed officials advanced along the High Street. Elspeth raised up on her toes, straining to see the party as it entered the church square. Kenneth, the tallest man in the center of the group, was dressed in his Highland wrapped plaid and torn linen shirt. His long hair, braided like dark ropes, swung about his face and shoulders. As they came closer, Elspeth gasped as she saw the deep bruises on his temple and cheek, and blood stains at his shoulder.
But he walked tall and straight between the guards, his face a weary, set mask of pride and courage. The party divided the hushed crowd as they passed through the square. Beside Elspeth, Duncan pulled his hood lower and stepped back.
The guards and officials mounted the platform with the prisoner. Elspeth watched as they forced Kenneth to kneel on the pine boards. From the church behind them, two men dressed in black emerged, a kirk minister and the executioner, who wore an errie black mask over his upper face. They joined the others on the platform, and spoke in low voices to the two robed officials who had come down from the castle. There seemed to be some confusion among them, gestures and arguing, but at last they seemed to agree, and turned toward the crowd.
Elspeth did not understand the words, but knew that one of them spoke a pronouncement of guilt. Alasdair muttered to her that they claimed that Kenneth had forfeited his life by helping a condemned man to escape. The minister uttered some prayers on Kenneth's behalf, and read a passage from the Bible.
She glanced at Duncan, who had turned away to scan the crowd with a furrowed glance. Then she noticed that one of the officials held up a white cloth, meaning to tie it around Kenneth's head. The executioner stepped forward.
"Stop them," she said, turning to Duncan. "Please stop them. There must be something we can do!" She laid her hand on his chest, and felt his pounding heart.
He bent down to her. "Elspeth," he said softly. "Know that I love you always. Never doubt it. Never forget it."
She looked at him in confusion as he laid his hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Then he let go and stepped away, nodding to Alasdair. The wings of his black cloak swept wide through the crowd as he strode forward.
Elspeth moved to follow him, but Alasdair put up an arm to hold her back. She pushed in sudden fright when she saw Duncan approach the platform.
"My Lords," he called out. "I am Duncan Macrae, the man you want. Let this lad go."
Chapter 26
'O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness
Tho after it but few enquires.'
~Thomas the Rhymer
Elspeth shoved desperately at Alasdair. She did not understand Duncan's words, but no one needed to tell her what he had said, or what he planned to do. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Duncan mounted the steps to the platform, causing an uproar among the men there, and among the crowd in the square. He crossed the scaffold and went to Kenneth, raising him up to his feet. An indignant official gestured wildly and shouted, and three men-at-arms strode across the boards to grab Duncan. Another two guards grabbed and held Kenneth.
Duncan began to speak to the black-robed men, the mellow, deep tone of his voice calm and certain. Elspeth watched him with tears in her eyes, her breath coming in odd little gasps.
She hit at Alasdair's chest in frustration. "What does he say?" she asked, sobbing.
"One of the long-robes is a clerk of the Council. The other is the captain of the castle, Kirkcaldy of the Grange. Duncan has just told them that he and Kenneth are both wrongfully accused. Now he asks that new evidence be considered."
One of the officials stepped forward and snarled an answer.
The guards shoved Duncan down to his knees, so roughly that Elspeth cried out. The church deacon came across the platform and began to tie the white cloth around Duncan's eyes.
Elspeth felt the world begin to spin slowly around her. A cold, foggy haze closed over the platform. When it drifted back, she saw the scene that she had been dreading all these months.
Duncan knelt by the block, his cloak gone, his shirt pulled away from his neck. The white cloth hid his face from view.
Elspeth screamed, and pushed at Alasdair, but he held her fast. "This will not happen," she cried. "This cannot happen!"
"If you would help him," Alasdair suddenly hissed, "stand forward now with the Frasers."
Turmoil had begun to churn through the crowd when Duncan had mounted the scaffold. Their shouts, and the sound from those who had begun to chant Duncan's name in unison, suddenly quieted. The crowd split apart and drew back.
Striding through the center of the square, a small party of men approached the platform. Elspeth saw her cousins Alasdair, Hugh, Ewan and Callum come forward, a tall, brawny escort for Robert Gordon. He walked slight and cowed in their midst, his hair lank and brassy, his face a thin sneer.
Her cousins
came through the crowd and paused before the scaffold, four tall Highland warriors amid a few hundred Lowlanders, standing in a cold mist that heightened the colors of their blue and green plaids, and their red, brown, and blond heads. Long hair and wrapped plaids, strong stances and unwavering gazes marked them as fierce and proud. The steel dirks and claymores at their belts reinforced that impression.
Elspeth stepped forward too, with Alasdair at her side. They joined her cousins to flank Robert and face the officials on the platform. She squared back her shoulders and stood at the front, realizing that the appearance of the Highlanders, united and strong, wild and somehow foreign, even in this Lowland town, had stunned their onlookers into silence.
Duncan rose to his feet and shook off the guard who grabbed his arm. He tore off the blindfold and looked at her, his gaze intensely blue and free of fear. His glance was filled with something clear and shining, a power, almost an invincibility that lay in his resolve to give up his life if he must.
She knew, in that moment, that he possessed more courage than any man she had ever known. He had offered his life to protect her and her family, not on a battle impulse, but as part of a careful decision. She saw a wildness, too, in his gaze and in his stance. Though he wore no plaid, Duncan Macrae was just as fierce and wild and indomitable as the Frasers at her back.
Duncan looked at her and nodded. She stepped forward at his nod, and mounted the platform steps, her cousins and half-brother behind her. They walked toward Kenneth, so that he stood with them, his long hair blowing in the mist.
Hugh came forward and turned to the officials. Elspeth blinked as he addressed them in his own Highland language of Gaelic, leaving it up to the Lowlanders to find a translator.
"I am Hugh Fraser of Lovat. We are here to support our kinsman Duncan Macrae of Dulsie in his claim of innocence." He looked at Duncan, and stepped back. "Now let him tell you what he would say."
Duncan turned to the council members and translated Hugh's words. They nodded warily, and waited.
Alasdair was beside Elspeth, murmuring quiet translations when necessary. Although Duncan spoke in Scots, he repeated much of what he said in Gaelic for the Frasers on the platform.
"It is true that I broke the bond of caution that was signed between the Frasers and the crown regarding the MacDonalds. No one else broke the bond but myself, by my own actions. I admit to that. But I abetted disorder only by attempting to rescue my wife, who had been cruelly taken by two members of Clan MacDonald."
Duncan turned and held out his hand. Elspeth came to him, and he wrapped his fingers around hers. "Any man would have done the same in my place. I plead innocent of murder charges. The man I am accused of killing fell and broke his neck when he attacked me. My wife is a witness to that, and one other man, Magnus Fraser, whose injuries at the hand of a MacDonald prevent him from being here. He will send written testimony if you so require it. I admit to breaking the Fraser bond. No other shoud be punished for that but me. The bond stipulates that a fine be exacted from the pledge before a life would be taken. I will pay the fine."
The two officials frowned and muttered between them, and one of them motioned for Duncan to continue.
"But the charges of spying and treason, which ultimately brought about the sentence of beheading, are falsely made and maliciously concocted. One man accused me, and one man made witness against me. I was not allowed counsel because of the charge of high treason. But that very charge was wrongly made against me. I speak now as my own counsel, since I was not allowed to speak on my own behalf at the trial." Duncan looked around at the Frasers. Callum and Ewan shoved Robert forward and stood beside him, holding onto his arms.
"This man accused me of spying and treason. But his own evil turn of mind created those charges. He has resented the dishonoring of his Gordon kin and his Gordon name. He has sought revenge against any who brought that shame about for his clan. As you are aware, I was one of the lawyers involved in the trial of George Gordon, earl of Huntly, and I took part in the condemning of John Gordon. When I married Robert Gordon's half-sister, he sought his revenge." The council members nodded grimly. Duncan turned to approach Robert, and reached out his hand, palm up.
Elspeth saw her half-brother sneer at Duncan. The raw hatred in Robert's face caused her to draw in her breath sharply. Robert turned his gaze to her, then, and she looked away from the acid blue of his eyes. She felt sick.
Duncan held out his hand as if he waited. Robert did not move, until Callum drew his dirk and laid it against Robert's neck. Duncan nodded, barely glancing at the brawny Fraser.
"Robert," he said patiently. "Give me the papers."
Robert reached into his doublet and slid out some folded pages. Duncan took them and passed them to the Council members, who read them in silence.
"Some of these were presented at your trial," one of the black-robed men said. "But they are addressed to Robert Gordon."
Duncan nodded. "The ones at my trial were copied from these, with my name falsely added. Two letters are to Robert from other Gordon kin, detailing their hopes to bring power back to their disaffected clan." He waited while the men found these pages and read them.
"You will find that the other letters are from a member of the English court, commending Robert for his services to the English, and mentioning money paid Robert for information about a secretly planned uprising of the Gordons." Duncan drew a deep breath. "Robert has been spying on his own kin for money, and blamed me for that betrayal. The English court would be pleased to see more strife between the Scottish crown and the clans, and paid him well for the news."
One of the officials snapped an order, and three guards came forward to take Robert Gordon prisoner. The muttering between the officials now grew to a sharp discussion. Elspeth understood none of it, but knew from tone and gesture, and from the joyous thud of her own heart, that Duncan had proved his innocence.
The men continued to speak, even as a murmuring arose in the crowd. Elspeth turned to see a man running through the crowd, waving a piece of paper. He climbed the steps to the platform and spoke to the officials there in an agitated tone. Duncan was called over to them, and he went, bowing his head to listen.
Alasdair smiled, and then began to grin. Hugh smiled too, and Elspeth went over to them to ask what was happening.
"The runner is a clerk sent from the queen," Alasdair said. "She was having dinner with the Provost when her brother James Stewart, the earl of Moray, sent word to her about Duncan Macrae. Queen Mary had this man deliver a remit of execution to the Captain of Edinburgh Castle. She hopes it is not too late. Too late!" Alasdair laughed. "Duncan got himself free, but the remit comes just in time to keep him out of prison altogether. They were going to hold him on the other charges, but the remit clears up all of that, and only asks that Duncan pay a fine."
Hugh grinned. "God bless that sweet face, as the people here say of our queen."
Elspeth turned, smiling, to see Duncan look up at her and hold out his hand. She ran the few steps toward him, and he gathered her into the circle of his arm.
The crowd cheered, and Duncan turned to wave at them. Elspeth wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face in his shoulder.
"The vision was wrong," she said. "It was wrong."
He pressed his cheek to her hair. "I told you long ago that I believed that I would not die." He sighed. "But Elspeth, the vision was right."
She drew back and looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean? Are you not free?" She glanced anxiously at the officials, who were directing the guards to lead Robert away.
She turned to stare up at him, and suddenly realized what he meant: her vision had indeed revealed Duncan's blindfolded face, his bare neck, and the rough curve of the heading block.
She had never seen his actual death.
"Duncan," she breathed. "The vision happened, just as I saw it. Only as I saw it, and nothing more."
"You never saw my death," he agreed gently. "Perhaps it was never destin
ed at all." He traced his fingertips over her cheek, her jaw, and tilted her chin upward. "We are meant to be together, mo càran. There is nothing that can separate us now, until we are done with this long life and happy to go on. Death will be no threat to us, but only a welcoming home at the end of our lives."
Tears rose in her eyes, and one spilled softly down her cheek. "Is that a prophecy, from one who has the Sight?"
He smiled and took the tear with his fingertip. "It is," he whispered. "And so be it."
Epilogue
Then I'll grow in your arms two
Like to a savage wild,
But hold me fast, let me not go
I'm father to your child.
~"Tam Lin"
The late spring wind blew softly around his face as Duncan climbed the rock-studded hill. Pausing, he inhaled the fresh odor of new grass and looked around him. Wildflowers and bright tufts of grass spring up between chunks and boulders of gray rock. Just above him, Elspeth sat perched on a bare shelf, her copper and gold hair a shining warm light against the rocks.
He swore under his breath and walked up the slope. The way was not step here, and he climbed easily toward her. She waved at him, but he only scowled at her.
He stopped onto the wide shelf she occupied and stood over her, hands fisted on hip ships. "And how did you get up here? They are half mad below looking for you."
She smiled and shifted to the side, making space for him to sit beside her. When he stood there still glaring down at her, she patted the rock. "Come now, Duncan Macrae," she said. "You will not grudge the little freedom left to me, will you?"
He sighed and sat, dangling his legs beside hers over the rock shelf. "You could have come to harm, coming all the way up here alone."
"Ach, it is not far. You fuss like an old woman. Your own grandmother does not fuss at me as you do lately."