by Amanda Scott
“But ye came to me first,” Andrew reminded him.
“Aye,” Rob said. “I knew almost nowt about Pharlain and little of Dougal, although I did hear much about him from Ian and Mag. My father insists that I need only have a quiet, reasonable talk with Pharlain. Father believes that if I simply point out the wisdom of keeping the lochs open to all vessels that want to enter or leave them, Pharlain will understand that the fees he and Campbell want are a bad idea. I thought you might believe, as I do, that such a course would be futile.”
“Aye, then ye were right to come to me,” Andrew said, nodding. “I doubt there be anyone in Scotland who kens as much about me cousin Parlan MacFarlan, for all that he chooses to name himself now after our great ancestor, Pharlain. As Parlan, he were a sly lad, who thought better of himself than anyone else did, including his father. He’s gey sly now, too, and greedy withal. So, whatever he might say, dinna trust the man. He’s right daft about Arrochar and least trustworthy when he gives ye his ‘solemn promise.’ Those were the words he said to me the day afore he attacked us at Arrochar.”
“Is that why you were able to get away? Because you understood that he meant the opposite thing and distrusted his solemn word?”
To Rob’s surprise, the twinkle lit Andrew’s eyes again. He said, “That were no the main reason. But I willna lie to ye, and ye’d no believe the truth, so I willna weary ye with it. ’Tis enough that my lass and I did flee. Sithee, I had a bolt hole, as any man of such wisdom as m’self would. So we scooped up our newborn lassie, Andrena, and fled here to Tùr Meiloach.”
“How did you get over that pass before they caught you?”
“Aye, well, ye must ask our Muriella that question when ye find her. She kens the tale as well as anyone does.”
Rob eyed him shrewdly. “I have heard some absurd versions of that tale, I believe,” he said. “Surely, you will not insist that they are true.”
“I’ll insist nowt,” Andrew said with another mischievous grin. “ ’Tis such tales that have kept us safe since then. Now, with only a short time left afore I can present me charters to his grace, we must retrieve Muriella as fast as we can. This afternoon, we’ll devise a tactful and enticing message for ye to send to Pharlain.”
Accepting the change of subject, Rob wondered if Andrew would be patient enough to await the results of such a message. He wondered, too, if a quick retrieval of any sort could be possible.
The rest of the day passed slowly for Muriella, whose patience was straining if not nearing its end. She had racked her brain for ideas of how to escape, but not one plausible method occurred to her.
The silent woman had brought food again at midday but had not left the candle. Murie could see well enough in the faint light through the cracks to reveal that the food was plain and held little appeal. Nevertheless, she ate, if only because she had nothing else to do. The guard took away her tray afterward, and she did not see the woman again until darkness had fallen.
She brought a candle then and set it again in its own tallow on the shelf. Then, taking the tray from the guard, she carried it to the stool.
As she turned to leave, Murie had an inspiration. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “ ’Tis cold in here at night, and that blanket is too thin for warmth. If I am not to be sick, I must have another blanket and my own warm cloak. It must be dry by now.”
The woman shook her head.
“Do you think Dougal or Pharlain will let me have just one more blanket?”
The woman shrugged.
“Come away now, woman,” the guard said firmly. “Ye shouldna even listen tae her ’less ye want tae find yourself in the suds.”
“Prithee, ask Dougal,” Murie urged. “Just ask if I may have another blanket.”
Hesitating briefly, the woman nodded.
“And a bath?” Muriella added hastily. “A hot bath?”
The woman looked at her.
“Mae, come out o’ there now,” the guard snapped.
Without another word, the woman left, and the guard slammed the door shut and barred it.
But Murie had the candle, and now she knew the woman’s name.
Moreover, if they did let her bring a tub and hot water, they might let her stay in the shed while Murie bathed. If so, even if Mae remained silent, Murie could at least talk quietly to her and perhaps persuade her to help her escape.
At Tùr Meiloach Sunday morning, Rob ached for the peacefulness and solitude of the cottage so he could think. He had spent the previous afternoon and evening with Andrew, discussing possible tactics to employ when meeting with Pharlain. But none of Andrew’s notions seemed either tactful or plausible to Rob.
The message they had finally composed to send Pharlain had taken only a few minutes before supper. When Rob asked how they would send it, Andrew said he would have to think about that. Then, at supper, he made more outrageous suggestions, none of which were actions or arguments that Rob could approve.
Declaring exhaustion at last, he excused himself to sleep, only to waken the next day and find Andrew eager to talk more while they broke their fast.
Hoping to change the subject, if only briefly enough to let him finish his meal, Rob said, “How soon should we expect that galley to arrive from Craggan, sir? And where will they dock it when it comes?”
“They’ll have a towboat,” Andrew said. “The lads who come ashore will use that and send a lad back with it. Others will stay on the galley and anchor offshore.”
Rob chewed the food in his mouth and swallowed before saying, “They will not want to sit idle for days, sir. Nor do I. The sooner I can talk to Pharlain, the better I shall like it. We must get my request to him at once.”
“Aye, sure, lad, I’m that road m’self,” Andrew said. “But he willna listen to explanations or agree to suggestions from you or your da. He’ll want his own way. Ye said yourself that that’s why ye’ve come to me.”
“It is, aye, but I cannot see myself doing or saying aught that you suggest.”
“Then I’ll cudgel me brain more,” Andrew said. He glanced around, but the gillie who had served them was helping others take down the breakfast trestles in the lower hall. Speaking quietly, Andrew said, “Meantime, I’ve a question for ye.”
Smearing butter on a crust, Rob said, “What is it?”
“Ye told me last summer that ye’d not inflict yourself on any female. At the time, I thought ye might have said that because ye believed a warrior would make a devilish husband. Thinking it over, though, I did wonder if ye’d already inflicted yourself on some other lass. Did ye?”
Rob met his gaze, wondering what he could say. Anything other than the truth would likely cause trouble later, so drawing breath, he said, “I did nowt by choice, sir. You revealed earlier that you know about my mother’s hopes for me. What you may not know is that she and my lord father arranged to betroth me to a young woman of good family. I was reluctant then to assume the burden of a wife, because I was in the midst of my training and still yearned for action.”
“Your father couldna back out of whatever offer or agreement he’d made, though,” Andrew said. “What happened, then?”
Bluntly, Rob said, “The lass jumped from her tower window to her death.”
When Mae entered the shed with Murie’s breakfast tray, the guard stood in the doorway as he had before while she carried it to the stool.
Despite his presence, Murie said, “Did you ask about a bath and blankets?”
Mae gave only a curt nod in passing and vanished out the door.
As the guard shut it, he leered at Muriella and said cheerfully, “Sakes, lassie, I’ll bring ye a bath if ye want. I’ll even scrub your lovely back.”
“Bless my soul!” Andrew exclaimed in response to Rob’s candid statement of how his first “betrothal” had ended.
“You should be blessing my soul,” Rob said ruefully. “Her parents damned it to hell, because they blame me, and only me, for her death. Her mother told mine that I’d frightened the
poor lassie so much that…” He paused to stifle the rest of that thought. Then, when Andrew remained silent, he added, “By my troth, sir, I did nowt that should have terrified her so. We’d met only twice and were never alone.”
“Did you never learn aught more than that?”
“My mother did say that it was likely my size and strength that gave her such a fright. She believes that I could have wooed her less clumsily. Even now, she plagues me to treat women with greater chivalry.” He grimaced. “I’ll admit that I do tend to speak my mind rather than mouthing pretty phrases meant to flatter. I doubt that such stuff would have helped then, though. Her ladyship barely spoke to me when I did address her. She was small and slender, however—much like the lady Muriella in stature. And, in troth, she did comment once on my size, saying that I was overlarge for a husband. Perhaps my lady mother recalled that, too.”
“So now ye see yourself as an affliction to the lassies. I ken little of those feelings, lad, having never suffered such. But I’d say ye’re condemning yourself unfairly. We men will never understand women. I ha’ me doots that God Hisself understands them or that He intended for us to do so. Another fact of wicked Nature is that we’re drawn to women nonetheless,” he added with a knowing grin.
Rob ignored both the grin and Andrew’s apparent ability to understand the intentions of the Almighty. Instead, he said, “Have you thought of any sensible way that we can quickly arrange for me to talk with Pharlain?”
“Aye, sure… if ye should happen to have a MacAulay banner amongst the things ye brought with ye.”
“I do,” Rob said. “I carry one with me always.”
“I thought ye might,” Andrew said with a grin.
Chapter 9
Worried now about her safety from Dougal’s guards, Murie paced the area inside the shed, trying to think how she might escape. The only possible weapon she had so far was the candle that Mae had left behind two nights before.
But what good was a candle, other than for light, in a shed built of stone?
Imagining herself attacking the lecherous guard with it, Murie could easily envision the man erupting in flames if she could set him alight. But doing so was a remote prospect at best, even if she could bring herself to do it.
Like Dougal and many other men she had seen on her arrival, the guard was much larger than she was. And a candle was dangerous only when its flame was lit.
Glancing up, she considered the thatched roof, but it still dripped in places. Even where it did not drip she could assume that the thatch was damp throughout.
The light, rickety stool was useless. The door opened outward, so she could not hide behind it and hope to surprise anyone.
Perhaps if she pretended to faint or be sick—
The scrape of the bar on the door stopped that thought dead, and Murie quickly moved behind the stool. She could hit the guard with it if he expressed more notions of helping her bathe. The stool would break, but it might deter him even so.
Daylight poured in when the door opened. Two men stood outside, holding a tub between them large enough for bathing. Behind them stood Dougal.
Just beyond him, in a clearing, she saw other men attending to their duties. Catching a glimpse of thick red curls, she thought of Pluff.
That cheeky lad would doubtless be as irate with her as her father would, but she’d welcome even Pluff’s scolding if she could just get safely home again.
She watched the men carry the tub in and set it down.
Dougal said, “I hope ye’ll show proper gratitude for this kindness by mending your attitude toward me, lass. These men will bring hot water, so ye can take your bath. Afterward, they’ll take the tub away.”
“I won’t bathe unless you send the woman to me again,” Murie said firmly.
“Ye’ll do as I bid.”
“Nay, I won’t, for I dare not trust your guards any more than I trust you.”
He frowned heavily. “What d’ye mean by that?”
“When that woman left this morning, the guard with her offered to bring me a tub himself and to scrub my lovely back,” she replied angrily. “If you think I will undress, let alone dare to bathe, with such men as guards and no one to protect me from them, you are even wickeder than I depicted you in my tale.”
“I’ll fetch her then,” Dougal said curtly. “Ye willna be troubled by such ill manners again, m’lady. Ye may also have as many extra blankets as ye want. Ye should have requested them straightaway.”
Stunned to realize that his anger was not for her but for what the guard had said to her, Murie nevertheless felt a distinct chill.
By the time Mae arrived, carrying a fresh towel, a washrag, and two more blankets, the two men who had carried in the tub had also filled it with hot water. One of them also brought a large ewer of cold water, saying that she might need to lower the water’s temperature. Steam rose from the tub in welcome clouds.
Somewhat to her consternation, Dougal had returned with Mae. “I’ll be right outside until ye’ve had your bath,” he said. “Ye’ll have nowt to worry ye.”
Although Murie thanked him politely, she greeted the news with less gratitude than he might have expected. She was grateful, but his presence so nearby would prevent Mae from speaking to her.
As soon as the door had shut with the men all outside, though, Murie said quietly, “Thank you, Mae.”
Nodding but without any expression to indicate her feelings, Mae deftly helped Murie take off the lavender kirtle and the shift.
“I wish I could wash my hair,” Murie said as she dipped a foot in the water. “It would not dry in here, though, and I doubt Dougal would let me dry it outside.”
Mae shook her head, looking distressed.
“Are you saying, ‘No, he won’t’ or that I should not talk?” Murie asked her.
To her surprise, Mae rolled her eyes.
“He won’t allow it,” Murie said flatly, realizing that Mae could not answer two questions at once, certainly not without talking.
Mae shook her head and gestured authoritatively into the tub.
Resigned, Muriella stepped in, sank down, and accepted a bar of soap from her. “Are you so afraid of him that you dare not even whisper to me?” she asked.
With a nod, Mae put a finger to her lips.
Understanding, Murie whispered, “You are afraid that if I keep talking, he may think that we are both talking. In troth, Mae, if we both whisper, I doubt that even he would be able hear us.”
Mae shook her head and mouthed, “Too dangerous.”
Muriella sighed.
For a time, she concentrated on getting warm to her bones and clean. But silence was no friend when conversation beckoned. The older woman’s silence soon made Murie want to shake her. That thought brought a sense of shame when her imagination instantly summoned up an image of Dougal flogging Mae. He might do it if he even suspected they had talked. Faith, she thought, he might even flog her.
Murie assured herself that the second possibility was irrelevant, that no matter what he might do to either of them, she had to know one thing.
She whispered even more quietly, “Does my father know I’m here?”
Mae shrugged, her expression rueful.
“He will be gey worried,” Murie said. “My lady mother, too.”
Mae nodded again. Then, to Murie’s surprise, she looked thoughtful.
“What?” Murie demanded, barely remembering to whisper.
Mae shook her head and moved the two folded blankets from the stool to the rolled-up pallet. Then, shaking out the towel, she held it up invitingly.
With a sigh, Murie stood and let Mae wrap the towel around her.
While she did, Murie murmured, “I do wish you could talk, Mae, but even though you can’t, I’m glad you are here. That guard this morning scared me.”
Mae grimaced and looked as if she might speak, after all, or mouth words as she had. A brisk rap at the door ended both possibilities.
Dougal opened it a c
rack and said impatiently, “Are ye no done yet? I’ve more important matters to see to.”
Murie called back, “I’m just getting out. Prithee, be so kind as to let me have a wee bit more time.”
“Aye, lass, but I’ve no got all day.”
Mae handed her the shift and when she had it on, held the kirtle for her to step into. Since its bodice laced in front, Mae then turned to fold the towel and take the washrag from the side of the tub where Murie had draped it. Then, with a quick glance at Murie, now safely dressed, Mae rapped on the door.
Dougal opened it and held it open for her, shifting his gaze to Murie.
Hearing a scream outside as Mae hurried away, Murie expected him to leave at once. Instead, he held her gaze.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she demanded when the scream came again. “Do you hear so many screams here that you pay them no heed?”
“I ken fine what causes those screams,” he said. “I told ye, that guard will never be uncivil to ye again. Mae will bring ye your dinner anon.”
Andrew’s running gillies were speedy, so the Colquhoun galley arrived just before sundown Monday evening. Rob walked down with Andrew to meet it.
“Is it safe to send them straight on to Arrochar?” Rob asked.
“Aye, and ’tis the wisest thing, too,” Andrew said. “Sithee, Pharlain posts men along Arrochar’s cliffs. Since they’ll tell him that a galley put in here, ’tis best if that same galley continues to Arrochar with your message, under your banner, then vanishes in the ensuing darkness. Pharlain will then think only that it also carried a message for me. Afterward, Colquhoun’s lads can put into a cove a mile south of here, where nae one will see them except me own people.”
Rob nodded. “Be sure that whoever delivers the message is unknown to Pharlain. He must know some of Colquhoun’s men, I should think.”