The Pirate’s Redemption

by Casie, Ruth A.

  The morning’s gray skies were in keeping with the somber mood. The cold breeze swirled about her, stealing her warmth as she stood at the cemetery gate next to the burnt-out kirk, dressed in her MacDougall tartan and carrying her father’s sword. Her councilors, people, and the crew of the Sea Diamond remained silent behind her.

  “We honor Lyall, my man-at-arms, and thank him for his devotion to us, his clan. He joins wi’ others who have gone before him. We wish him well for all he did for us.”

  Moira stepped close to Lyall’s wrapped remains, out of earshot of the others.

  “Tell my father, mother, and brother I miss and love them. And protect Gavin and his family on their journey as ye have protected me, my friend.” She held back her tears. “Forgive me for failing you.”

  She motioned to Aymer to come forward with Lyall’s sword.

  “Safe journey,” she said in a loud voice and laid his sword next to him.

  She turned to the other bodies.

  “Death is unwelcome,” Moira said. “But tis as much a part of our lives as th’ air we breathe.” Heart-rending sobs punctuated her sad words. Her mouth quivered, and she struggled to go on. “Tis painful to lay Gavin, Isla, and their wee babes to rest. We will remember all of them. We take heart in knowing Lyall is wi’ them ta help them on their way.”

  She turned to her councilors. “Join me by th’ grave.”

  “Moira, this is no’ th’ way this is done. Tis yer duty ta see them laid ta rest, no’ yer councilors. We will wait for ye here, wi’ th’ villagers,” Nigel said firmly, the horror on his face apparent.

  Colban took a step back, his hands shaking. For a moment, she thought he would run to the village, but he stayed in place.

  Aymer shook his head.

  Already they abandoned her. She would deal with that later. The more immediate issues needed her attention at the moment. With her head bent in reverence, she turned and followed the clansmen as the bodies were placed in their graves. They laid Lyall near her parents and brother, then laid Gavin’s family next to each other.

  Moira stood and watched as her clansmen covered each body with dirt. Silently, she vowed to avenge each of their souls. She would not rest until Bridgeton was brought to justice by either Laird Ewan or herself. How she hoped Bridgeton would be forced to face her.

  With the graves closed and her clansmen gone, she said her final farewells. Weighted down with grief, she joined the villagers outside the gate.

  “This is what happens when we’re encouraged ta trust th’ English,” Colban said. He made it sound as if she alone had made the decision to welcome them.

  Nigel and Aymer stood by in silence.

  The councilor’s words stung like vinegar on an open wound. Her gaze skimmed over the gathering and her heart sank. All she saw were tired, injured people holding their children close, trying to make sense out of what had happened, and with a need for someone to blame. The complaints grew louder.

  “And where were the councilors?” Gareth asked.

  The crowd quieted and gave him their attention.

  Moira whipped around. His expressionless face told her nothing. Yet there was something in his eyes. She recognized strength when she saw it.

  She nodded her thanks.

  “These deaths are on our hands,” she said, “mine as well as my councilors. But I am th’ chieftain. I vowed ta protect my clan, and I have failed ye.”

  “No, my lady, we have all failed th’ clan,” Nigel said.

  Nigel and Aymer might be contrite, but not Colban. His hostile stare angered her. She didn’t try to hide her growing contempt and readied her response.

  Gareth coughed a warning.

  Moira looked at him. It only took a moment to understand what he was trying to say to her. She must control her temper and speak honestly to her people.

  Overwhelmed by everything going on, she could no longer hide her feelings. She fell to her knees and mourned with them. She would stay with them for however long it took to purge herself of the pain.

  Chapter Eight

  Gilmar, Scotland

  September 22, 1267

  Late morning

  Yesterday had started out a fine day. Today, she battled her way through Hell. Even now, she relived the pirate attack, the pungent smell of burnt wood, the sight of ash-filled air, and the ringing sound of swords mixed with the screams of her people.

  “Th’ fields are burnt. Th’ houses are unlivable.” Nigel said from the high table in the great hall.

  Moira, her councilors, and Wesley all sat there during the evening meal. The rest of her clan filled the trestle tables below.

  “Th’ Pir, can she still sail?” Moira asked. The idea that the ship could be disabled tore at her insides.

  “Yes, I examined her myself as promised. The raiders must have thought her abandoned. They passed her up and concentrated on the village,” Wesley said, then continued to eat in silence.

  She sat back, thankful for small miracles. All of Gilmar helped to hide the ship in plain sight.

  “While our men gathered th’ flocks, th’ crew from the Sea Diamond helped wi’ th’ buildings. All th’ homes are heavily damaged. Five needed ta be taken down. No’ even their stones could be salvaged. Bare walls are all that is left of the other seventeen houses. No’ a stick of wood survived. Most people lost everything,” Aymer said.

  Laughter drew Moira’s attention to the entrance of the great hall. Gareth and a few of the crew entered. Villagers stopped the men with words of appreciation as they made their way through the room.

  She was thankful for Gareth’s help at the cemetery yesterday as well as all he had done today. He’d assessed the conditions of the buildings and instructed repair teams, and sat talking with the people while he rested. He readily shared his smile and good humor. Several times during the day, she found herself grinning at the sound of his hearty laugh.

  “Gareth,” she called out.

  He stopped and gave her his attention.

  When their eyes met, she was taken back. She had thought nothing particular of his eyes, but now she noticed they were dark brown and compelling.

  “Come, join us.” She offered the empty seat to her right.

  He nodded and made his way to her table.

  “Ye have th’ thanks of my people and me.” Moira said. “For all yer—”

  “Ta Gareth, for all yer help,” Nigel interrupted as he raised his tankard.

  Moira gasped at Nigel’s disregard for protocol. It was the chieftain’s responsibility to honor someone. She quickly tried to disguise her annoyance. The mood was somber enough without making it more uncomfortable.

  “To Gareth,” everyone in the room repeated.

  Gareth rose and held his tankard high. He gazed directly at her, humor still in his eyes. “To you, my lady. No one worked harder today. I am proud to play a small part in the village’s recovery. To Moira, chieftain of Clan McDougall of Gilmar.”

  Everyone stood.

  “Ta Moira.”

  He emptied his tankard and sat down again.

  She leaned toward him so only he heard what she had to say. “That makes two times ye’ve come to my rescue wi’ my councilors.”

  “At times, councilors forget their place.”

  “I think they expected one of them would be chieftain.”

  “The reason doesn’t matter. They overstepped their position. I made it clear I recognize you as the authority and had everyone in the room confirm it. Look at your clan. They know who leads them.”

  She gazed across the room. A toast, such a small thing, but the intent behind it was powerful.

  “Perhaps ye should stay. I could use an advisor,” she said, only half jesting.

  “I would be honored, but I prefer not to stay in one place.”

  “Oh,” she said, her brows raised.

  “Please, do not take offense. I never stay anywhere for long.”

  “No offense taken. Right now, I’d go myself if I could.
” The absurd idea brought a smile to her lips. “Ye’ll tell me if ye want a stowaway. At the moment, th’ idea is appealing.”

  “Moira.” She turned to Colban at her other side. “We were fortunate yesterday. I dinna think we would have th’ same outcome without th’ Sea Diamond. We spoke earlier—”

  “Who did you speak wi’?”

  Colban frowned. “Nigel and Aymer. We discussed protection for th’ clan. We canna rely on Wesley and his men. They will leave soon.”

  Moira froze at his words, too startled to say anything. She wanted to show Gareth she was worthy of his support, worthy of being the clan’s leader. There was more. Her panic dwindled, replaced by a stronger emotion. He intrigued her, touched her heart in ways no one ever had. No, he couldn’t leave Gilmar now.

  She focused her attention on protecting the clan and faced Colban.

  “I will see ta our clan’s protection. As th’ chronicler, provide me wi’ th’ number of people injured, food stuffs needed, and building repairs. Speak ta Aymer and discuss what’s needed for our defense. When I have all th’ information, I will leave for Dundhragon Castle and speak wi’ Laird Ewan,” she said.

  Colban gave her a reverent bow.

  Moira stood then, and everyone got to their feet.

  “Good day,” she said and left the room.

  Gareth watched Moira walk away. The down-to-earth woman cared for her clan. They looked up to her and were more convinced she was their chieftain than the councilors or even Moira herself.

  Moira had intrigued him from the moment she attacked him on the Pir. He admired her skill as a warrior, but it wasn’t until he saw her at the manor that he was struck by her beauty. Her dark hair flowed down her back. Her blue eyes were bright with emotion and intelligence.

  “The clan can use our help here. I understand you need to be at Dundhragon,” Wesley said. “A lot can be accomplished if we stay a few more days. When we have everything under control here, you can take Moira to Dundhragon”

  Gareth looked at Wesley.

  “Perhaps you should be the captain of her guard. You play that role well, you know.”

  Gareth laughed to cover his annoyance. Was he that easy to read? He should keep his feelings better hidden. “Her councilors cause her to doubt her own decisions.”

  “That bothers you?” Wesley asked.

  “Yes. I’ve also been bothered with the way this attack unfolded. Why wasn’t her bodyguard with her at the manor? His place was at her side.” Gareth’s lips pressed together.

  “I asked Aymer the same question. When Bridgeton’s men overran the village, she told him to move the villagers to safety. She insisted on going back to the manor.”

  “What was so important that she put her life in jeopardy?” Rage seeped into Gareth’s voice.

  “Her father had documents that had to be destroyed. They were too dangerous to let them fall into the wrong hands.”

  “What could a small clan have that was so important?”

  Wesley’s face was blank. It was the face of a man with secrets. Gareth could try to pry them out of him, but he knew he would not succeed.

  “Her men are testing her. She will show them she can deal with difficult situations when the time comes,” Wesley said.

  “By that time, it may be too late. Her leadership of the clan could be damaged beyond repair. We can’t let that happen,” Gareth said.

  “We can’t?” Wesley’s smirk grew into a look of approval.

  “If Moira knew her father’s documents needed to be destroyed, she knew what they contained. Bridgeton will be after her.” He sighed. “She needs to be protected so she can bring whatever information she has to Laird Ewan.”

  “And you’re the one who’s going to help her,” Wesley said.

  “I have a liking for a pretty face,” Gareth said as he got up from the table. He glanced around the hall. Colban and Nigel were in a heated discussion, but he didn’t see Aymer.

  “And a need to aid the helpless, except Moira is far from helpless,” Wesley said.

  “She fights against Bridgeton. While Moira fights fair, he doesn’t. I plan to ensure her success.” Gareth said before he left the hall.

  Standing on the manor steps, he scanned the area for Aymer. He didn’t see the bodyguard, but found Moira headed for the dock. He reached her as she untied a small boat.

  “You get in,” he said. “I’ll cast off.”

  After he nudged the vessel from the dock, he joined her inside.

  “What are ye doing?” she asked.

  Grabbing an oar, he pushed away from the dock. “I’ll set the sail,” he said.

  “I prefer to row,” she said.

  He took the oar from her and set them in place.

  “You chose a nice day to go on the water. Did you have a destination in mind?” He glanced at her as he rowed. She appeared thoughtful more than upset.

  “There’s a small island in th’ channel that my father used. I want ta see if Bridgeton paid it a visit.”

  “I know the island. We passed it on our way to Gilmar. It’s deserted.”

  “My father and I often rowed there together. He said th’ rowing built up my arms. He took one oar and I took the other. On the way back, we changed places.” Moira stood. “Here, let me show ye.”

  The boat rocked, and to his delight, Moira thought nothing of it. He enjoyed watching her settle next to him and grab the starboard oar.

  “Ye ready? We pull together,” she said.

  He matched her stroke, and they glided across the water. “I didn’t realize you were practicing. You seem to enjoy it,” he said.

  “Aye, I do.” She paused. “I’m glad ye decided ta come wi’ me. I enjoy the company.”

  “With Bridgeton’s recent attack, it’s wiser not to be alone. The man won’t give up when he’s after something. Is there any place where we should go ashore?” he asked.

  “There’s a grotto on th’ eastern side. Tis well hidden. No one can find it,” she said.

  “A grotto may be difficult to find along those tall cliffs, but a good seaman would have no trouble,” he said.

  She turned to him and smiled. “I wouldna be so sure if I were ye.”

  “What will you give me if I find it?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m no’ a betting woman,” she said. “But if I were, I’d give ye a walk on the beach. And if I win, what will you give me?”

  “Anything you want.” He turned to her and looked into her eyes. “That’s in my power to give you,” he added.

  He studied her expressive face. She tried not to laugh, but her eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Ye play a dangerous game.”

  “Are we playing?”

  Her eyes widened with excitement.

  “Ease up, and I’ll get us on the right course,” he said.

  Moira held her oar in the water while he took long, easy strokes and corrected their heading, then together they rowed toward their destination.

  The stone cliff went on until the north side of the island where the cliffs sloped down and became a grassy meadow that ended with a beach on the western side.

  He turned the boat around and went along the shore, this time a bit closer. He looked for a change in water color, a change in current, even in the way the foliage grew.

  “I will tell ye, th’ stone is no’ as it appears ta be. Row closer,” she said.

  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m ready to claim my winnings,” she said, trying not to smile.

  He brought the boat closer to the cliff and found a field of stones tumbled at the base. He would have missed the opening if he hadn’t seen the sea birds fly out of the rock.

  He brought the boat around and got even closer to the wall. Between a series of large boulders was a small channel big enough for the boat to fit through. In the distance, he heard the sound of rushing water. He took the oar from her and maneuvered the boat through the tight space. The roar of racing water grew
louder.

  Gareth managed the last turn and brought the boat into the small grotto. In front of them, water cascaded down a series of rock ledges. Light slid through large cracks in the high, arched ceiling, creating shafts of light that glittered across the water.

  He pulled the boat onto a rock ledge and helped her out.

  “This way,” she said, and led him up a set of natural steps that went behind the waterfall. “Tis beautiful here,” she said. “Peaceful.”

  For a moment, he saw her as a girl, not a chieftain, and wondered if that was her reason for coming here. Even a seasoned warrior would have difficulty with what she’s faced.

  Moira squeezed between the rocks and into a separate area within the large cavern and froze.

  Gareth came up behind her. Rolls of parchment were strewn across the floor mingled with feather stuffing ripped out of pillows. The worktable was on its side, broken pottery scattered about.

  “Someone came here looking for something and was very thorough,” he said. He almost choked on a flash of anger as he surveyed the destruction.

  “Aye, they did.” She lifted her face to him. “When they dinna find what they came for, they came ta Gilmar.”

  “You were right about finding this place. Someone had to know how to get here,” he said.

  “The villagers know about the island, but only six people know how to find this room, my father, me, and the four councilors.” She dropped onto one of the stone boulders. “I find it hard to believe any of them would betray my father and th’ clan. I’ve known them all since I was a girl. What would make one of them turn on us?” she asked.

  “There are many things a man would give his life for-power, money, even love,” he said. “Are you sure your councilors are the only people who know how to get into this room? Did your father ever bring anyone here?”

  “Father had a way of bragging, and he did have a visitor before he was killed. I wonder if he said something ta de Montfort. Th’ man was wi’ Bridgeton when he attacked th’ village.” She got to her feet. “There’s nothing we can do here. I’d like ta start back.”