by J. L. Jarvis
“Och, Mari. If I have breath in me, I will come back to you. But if I dinnae—”
She put her fingers over his lips as she fought back her tears. “I’ll not hear it. Now you listen to me, we’ll talk no more of that.” Her tone softened. “I’ve brought you something.” She pulled the letter from beneath her neckline, where it had been pressed to her warm breast. Callum took the folded paper and held it to his lips. Mari watched and smiled warmly. “Dinnae read it now. Save it for later.”
“Mari.” He looked into her eyes, trying to memorize their softness and light. He would also remember their sorrow, and its weight on his heart.
Mari held his gaze as though she might hold onto him if looked hard enough. “You cannot be rid of me, so dinnae think that you can. If you will not come back to me, I will come find you.” She tried to sound strong, but she faltered.
She buried her face in his neck as he held her head gently. “I will come back. And I’ll take you home to the Highlands. We’ll drift in a boat across Loch Oich, while I look at your bonnie face. Then we’ll climb into a thicket of trees, where we’ll kiss until our knees buckle. And then I will touch every inch of your body with my hands and my mouth.” He gave her a deliberately piercing gaze that he knew would affect her, and then he grinned when it did, looking almost as though life were normal. Mari attempted a smile, but could not, so she hid her face in his chest. She could no longer hold back the tears.
He let her weep for a bit, and then in a deep voice that caught in his throat, he said, “Look at me, Mari. I want to memorize you.”
She lifted her face and studied him, too. “You’ll see me again in the daylight. I’ll be at the dock.”
“No, Mari. Not there.”
“I have to see you every moment I can.”
He spoke with his officer’s tone. “You will not go there.”
She answered in soft tones, touching his face. “Callum, I must see you again.”
He clenched his jaw to think of how low he had come, and angry for having to make it so plain. “I will not have your last memory of me be that of a weakened wretch walking in chains to a ship.”
The tears in her eyes caught the moonlight as she held his face until he looked into her eyes. “A braw warrior once found me when I was brought low, and he loved me in spite of it. And again, he came to me and lifted me up when I could not go on, and he carried me off on his horse. I will be with you every moment I’m able. And if you are low, I will lift you.”
“And carry me off on your horse? I would like to see that.”
“If I could, my fine Callum, I would, and you ken it.”
“Aye, Mari, I do.”
They shared a smile and a kiss, and then she wiped her eyes. Flashing a brave smile that was nearly convincing, she said, “I’m very strong, ken? And I do have some help. Those lads never leave me alone.” With a crooked grin, she said under her breath, “They’re a bit of a nuisance, aye?” They smiled, knowing the truth of how much those men meant to them both.
The guard gripped Callum’s shoulder.
“No.” Mari’s soft plea came out in a whimper.
Callum held Mari close one last time as she gripped his coat collar. She took off her cloak and pushed it through the bars. He tried to resist, but she insisted. “You’re no good to me sick.”
Duncan put a supportive hand on Mari’s back. Callum exchanged glances with Duncan, and gave him a nod. Duncan stood behind Mari, holding her shoulders as Callum stepped back. Soon all Callum held was her hand, which Mari gripped tightly. Lifting her hand, he kissed her palm gently and released it as he turned away from her and walked away.
Mari whispered his name as she gripped the iron bars. He stopped once to look back before turning the corner.
Mari’s legs gave out beneath her. As she grasped Duncan’s arm, he scooped her up and carried her out to the street.
Mari awoke in the carriage, with Duncan’s strong arms shielding her from the cold and the sorrow.
When she stirred in his arms, Duncan said, “I’m taking you home.”
*
Mari awoke in the dark to find Duncan still sitting in a chair by her bed, where he had been since bringing her home. He had given her a cup of whisky to calm and warm her, which, with her exhaustion, brought her a few hours of sleep. When she opened her eyes, Duncan was sitting beside her, watching her closely. “I’m leaving now, darlin’.”
“Leaving? Where? What time is it?”
His brow creased for an instant, but he went on with little emotion. “It’s early. I’m shipping out to sea.”
“No, Duncan. Not now, please. We need you here.”
His gaze softened. “I’m sailing on the Crown.”
It took a moment for Mari to grasp it. “The Crown? Callum’s ship?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, Duncan!” She threw her arms about him. “Thank you! You’re a true friend to Callum.”
“Aye,” he said, with eyes now dark and remote.
“Take care of him, Duncan.” Mari leaned against him.
Duncan felt the soft breath of her words at the base of his neck. He inhaled the scent of her hair as he held her and stroked the silk strands at her shoulders, too aware of the thin cotton fabric between his coarse hands and her skin. “Aye, lass, I will.” He gripped her shoulders and pressed her away. With a kiss on the cheek and a brusqueness that startled her, he murmured, “Goodbye, Mari.” Turning his back to her wounded expression, he left without a glance backward.
Too stunned to reply, Mari watched with troubled eyes as he walked through the doorway. The latch clicked into place. “Goodbye, Duncan,” she whispered.
*
Mist clung like a shroud to the ships at the Leith Docks. The sun hid behind ashen clouds. Flanked by Alex and Charlie, Mari leaned against a building as the men huddled closely to shield her from the brutal North Sea wind. Menacing gusts brought smells of bilge water, fish and mildew as waves frothed and crashed on the docks.
Mari glanced at Hughie. He had been aloof all morning, riddled with guilt. He should have been in Callum’s place. Mari had tried to convince him that she did not blame him, but he blamed himself just the same. She blamed her brother, whom she had trusted and risked all to help. In return, he had escaped, putting himself above those whom she loved. He had to have known how his actions would hurt her and the others who had tried to help him. She blamed no one but Jamie.
Mari hooked her arm into Hughie’s and pulled him close to her side. He kept his eyes fixed on the ship as he swallowed back his emotions. “Hughie, this is what Callum wants. You cannot go against him.”
His emotions flooded to the surface. He could not face her. “Mari, I’m sorry.”
“Dinnae blame yourself. I do not. Neither does Callum.” He broke her heart. Mari leaned her head sideways to rest on Hughie’s shoulder. They clung together for several moments until Mari fought to rein in her feelings. She was determined to be strong for Callum.
“Mari. I cannot watch him board that ship knowing it should have been me.”
She gripped his arm as she steeled her gaze. “Yes you will. You will do it for Callum.”
Alex was first to notice how upset Hughie was, and the toll it was taking on Mari. He gave Charlie a nudge, and they watched for a moment. Charlie clapped a brotherly arm on Hughie’s shoulder. “Lad, do you think we could find a pub on these docks?” After dodging an old man pushing a handcart, he led Hughie away on their quest, leaving Mari with Alex.
Mari settled into melancholic silence, which Alex allowed for a while. But as fears for Callum darkened her eyes, Alex tried to distract her.
“I saw Duncan this morning. He asked me to tell you goodbye. He had something to do before boarding the ship.”
“Aye.” Mari was not surprised, but she was disappointed. “When Callum is gone, so is Duncan. You’ll think me a fool, but I wonder sometimes if Duncan dislikes me.”
“Och, Mari. He does not dislike you.”
“Well he certainly makes himself scarce.”
“Duncan is…Duncan. Pay him no heed.” He shrugged it off.
With a smile, Mari tried to do likewise. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve enough real problems. I dinnae need to invent more.” She clutched Alex’s arm and tried to grin. “I’m lucky to have you here to keep me from thinking too much.”
In an effort to cheer her, Alex said, “Oh, I keep you from thinking, do I? I dinnae ken what you mean. I’m a thinker. I’ll have you know that I’m thinking right now.”
“And a fine job you’re doing,” she said, trying to smile. “But it’s no use. I’ll not be cheered up.”
The sound of the leg irons and chains announced their approach as the prisoners ended their march from Greyfriars. Callum had told her not to come, but she needed to see him. It might make him angry at first to have his wishes disregarded, but Callum was in no position to argue the point. Mari hope he would be glad, after all, for one last chance to see her.
The two hundred and fifty-seven prisoners marched chained together in pairs in two lines. If one stopped it pulled on the other men’s chains, and grated the leg and neck irons against the others’ raw skin.
Mari rushed to Callum’s side. “Lass, I did not want you to see me like this.”
“I could not stay away.”
His eyes swept over her, committing to memory every feature and curve until the chains yanked him along.
She walked beside him until ordered by one of the guards to step back. Solid hands took hold of her shoulders and held her as Callum walked on.
“Be strong for him, hen,” Alex told her.
Mari gripped his hand, never once taking her eyes from Callum’s back as he walked on toward the water. Charlie and Hughie were standing with her, but she paid them no heed. They all watched as the prisoners boarded the small boats that would ferry them out to the ship in the harbor.
“I’d trust Duncan with my life,” said Alex. “So does Callum.”
*
Hours after darkness had fallen, the Crown approached the tip of Deer Sound in Orkney as the waves pounded the deck. The wind, usually from the west, now came from the arctic north, and with it the snow—not falling, but blowing in icy shards, coating every surface with slick slush that the men’s frozen hands could barely hold onto. Duncan held tight to the rigging as he worked his way to the hatch to go below the main deck.
Countless times since they’d left nearly a fortnight ago, he had not been able to make sense of the captain’s choice of a northerly route in the midst of December. Why had they not headed south along England? The North Sea was rough even in milder months. In fair weather, the choppy water would have slowed their progress. Their provisions looked as though they might last for two months, for a journey that could take twice that in bad weather. An experienced captain would have known better than to come so ill-prepared. But to chart such a course through the rough seas of winter, when bad weather loomed, was unforgivable folly.
Hours before, Duncan had cautioned the captain to take shelter while they were still able. Waves pounded the ship and heaved the prisoners about. The blizzard winds wailed and the waves were relentless, pounding and tossing the ship toward shore. The prisoners had begged and the sailors complained, but the captain heard none of it. On he pressed. It was not until the ship nearly capsized and seemed almost to groan in protest that the captain finally sought shelter.
He ran the ship into Deer Sound and drew close to the shore. Duncan and the other sailors struggled to furl the sails and prepare to wait out the storm. As they dropped anchor, lightning flashed to reveal jagged rocks jutting out from the land. Icy waves shot up like mighty arms from the watery mass to wield power over the ship, whipping it to and fro in its foam. The freezing salt mist blinded Duncan as he made his way back to the hatch.
Once below deck he knelt down and leaned over the chained and locked hatch to the hold of the ship.
“Callum!” he yelled, but his only answers were despairing cries from below, nearly lost in the din of the storm. He knew, packed as they were, with no room even to lie down for sleep, these rough waters could hurl them about to their death. Duncan muttered a curse to the captain as he searched the darkness below.
A violent lurch threw the ship with a deafening crack. Duncan climbed to the main deck.
“The anchor chain snapped,” cried a sailor.
The captain ordered his men to cut down the mainmast. They were going to use it as a bridge to the shore. The prisoners were in a death trap. Callum would die. In that instant, Duncan thought about Mari. And then the thought crept out from some dark part of his soul.
Callum’s death would free Mari to love someone else.
Chapter 15
“Give me the key!” hollered Duncan over the din of the storm.
The captain glanced toward Duncan, but then pivoted back to the work at hand. Duncan grabbed hold of his shoulders. “The key! Give me the key to the hold!”
“Why?”
“Those men will die if we leave them there!”
“I’ll be paid for my costs if they die. If they escape, I get nothing.” The captain looked away. Just as Duncan was swinging a punch, one of his mates caught his arm and pulled him away. “Do you want find yourself down there in irons? You’re no good to anyone there.”
The mainmast was coming down. Every hand on deck guided it as well as they could until its weight brought it crashing to the rocky shore. As the men began crawling along the length of the icy mast toward the shore, Duncan picked up a discarded axe and went down to the hold as the crack in the ship widened. He heaved the axe on the chains and the lock until they broke, then opened the hatch and began pulling men out. He yelled down to Callum as he grasped one man after the other.
“Duncan, is that you?”
“Callum!”
“Aye!” Below, Callum was hoisting the prisoners up to Duncan. Someone found the ladder that had been thrown across the hold. It was missing some rungs, but it sped up their progress.
Above deck, the prisoners tried to cross the mast to the shore, but the captain and his crew kicked them from the mast and pushed them back down the rocks while they themselves scrambled up the steep cliff. The lucky ones fell back to the sea, while the others fell to their death on the jagged shoreline below.
Callum and Duncan helped dozens of men from the hold before the ship groaned and cracked. Duncan grasped Callum’s arm and pulled him up out of the hold as the sea hurled the Crown to the rocks.
*
Mari walked along the high street with a full basket of food from the market. Fresh snow dusted the cobblestone street and the buildings, making everything look nearly clean. She took a deep breath. It was brisk, but she warmed herself with thoughts of a cup of hot tea at home before starting to cook. The lads would be home soon for supper. After Callum’s ship sailed, one of them had been with her each moment for a week, until she finally sent them away for the day. She smiled now to think of how much of a family they had become. With Callum gone, they made sure that she lacked for nothing. In turn, she gave them the things she knew best to provide: a home to come to with good food to eat. She tamped down her longing for Callum. With Callum’s passage paid, he could leave the ship and catch another returning for Ireland or Holland. He might return to her within a year. But that year was so far away.
Her thoughts were drawn back to the present as the droning sounds of a piper and drummer drew a crowd to the Mercat Cross. Mari joined the outskirts of the crowd to hear the town crier call out the news.
“The Crown of London sank off the coast of Deerness, Orkney.”
What had the man said? One week ago?
“Over two hundred of the Covenanter passengers dead.”
Callum dead? She pressed forward into the crowd, but the crier was already telling others that a few may have survived, but they have not been able to determine the number of dead. Bodies continue to wash onto the shore.
Mari walk
ed numbly into St. Giles Cathedral. Was this her punishment for leaving the church of her childhood? Was it not enough to lose her family, her home—her wee bairn? But that had been Thomas’s fault. She could not blame God for that. But why must she pay and not Thomas? And now Callum may well have paid with his life. It was not fair, and yet how perfect a judgment, Mari thought. What worse torment could there be? In exchange for leaving her church and her family, all she held dear was gone. Nothing could have hurt her more. She leaned against a stone column and looked up at the tall arches that seemed as though they could go on forever. So would her despair.
She walked out of the church. A soft snow fell. Had it grown colder in the moments since she had learned of the news? And yet how much colder was it for Callum as the ship sank and the freezing water overtook him? But Duncan was there. He would not have let Callum perish. Mari stopped. Unless he perished, too. Only then did she realize that she had lost Duncan as well.
Mari walked into the apartment and set down her basket. This was her home with Callum. She went to the chair where Callum used to sit. She leaned back and tried to feel him there with her.
It was dark when the pounding woke her. She had fallen asleep in Callum’s chair, hoping to dream of him. Now she remembered. Her Callum was gone.
Mari opened the door to find Alex, his chest heaving from running.
With one look at her, he said, “You’ve heard.”
She looked absently at him and said, “Aye.”
Mari started to turn to go back to Callum’s chair, but Alex grasped her shoulders. “Mari.” He looked deeply into her eyes, and she seemed to awaken. “I’m sorry.”
Mari looked at the tears welling in Alex’s eyes. “No, we dinnae ken it for certain. He might have survived.”
“He’s gone, lass. They’re both gone.”
“No.” The word stuck in her throat. Alex pulled her into his arms and held her to his chest. For the first time, she wept. By the time Mari had cried herself into exhaustion, Charlie and Hughie were there.