“And what if what I know may save lives?”
Her mother sat in the chair across from her.
“Tell me.”
Muren drew in a deep breath. “The first vision I had was of Rorie being run through. He dropped to his knees and then fell over.”
Her mother placed her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Muren. Are you certain?”
“Aye, it was as clear as if I was watching it happen right in front of me.”
“I understand why you would be upset. Rorie hardly left your side while you were out.”
“I cannot let him go and be killed. I now have no choice but to leave as soon as Rorie does.”
“Aye, we will make preparations to go as soon as he has left. Did you have any other visions?”
“Aye, I saw the king in battle, but later saw him being slaughtered in his own bed.”
Her mother leaned forward. “That you must never repeat. Promise me, Muren. It is one thing for people to think you a witch, but those words are full-on treason.”
“I know, and I promise to never utter the words again.” Muren put her head down and wrung her hands.
“Was there another vision?”
“Aye,” she said in a soft voice. She was not quite sure how to describe it.
“Tell me, love, then put them all out of your head.”
Muren looked deep into her mother’s eyes. She barely had the heart to voice the words, but she did not possess the strength to hold onto such an image and bear the burden of it alone.
“The last image was that of me carrying a newborn bairn. The babe was swaddled, and I held her so tight.”
“Did you know ‘twas a wee lassie?” Her mother smiled. Clearly, she thought it was a happy vision.
“In the vision, I was weeping.”
Her mother’s expression turned to concern. “Maybe they were tears of joy?”
“Perhaps. I could not tell if I was happy or sad. Just that I looked upon the bairn with love and I was weeping.” Muren had not the heart to voice the vision about Ronan.
Her mother came over to her chair and wrapped her arms around her. “Oh love, you’ve been through so much. Why don’t you let me put you back in bed so you can rest? Tomorrow will be a long day.”
All of a sudden, weariness settled over her. She let her mother help her to the bed and cover her with the thick quilts. Morag tended to the fire, then blew out the candles and left the chamber.
Heavy slumber settled over Muren, and just as she was drifting, the door opened and closed again. The sound of a belt and other clothes being removed was followed by the quilts lifting and Rorie slipping in beside her. He must have assumed she was asleep because he rolled her onto her side and then contoured his body behind hers with one arm draped over her.
“I am awake,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said and kissed the back of her head.
“I do not want you to leave while you’re angry with me.”
“I am not angry with you, Muren. I only want to keep you safe, and the words you spoke earlier scared me. I can fight an army, but I cannot fight an angry mob wanting to burn you for a witch.”
“I know. I told my mother about the visions, and I will never repeat them again.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said, and cupped her breast and squeezed a little. “How do you feel now?”
Muren wanted the physical comfort he offered. More than anything. They didn’t have to always agree on everything, but they had a wonderful way of comforting one another in a way that transcended common language.
She turned toward him and slid her leg over his hip, then pulled him on top of her. “I would feel much better if my husband would drive me mad with desire.”
Rorie leaned down and kissed her so passionately she thought her heart would burst. She kissed him back with absolute abandon as if she would never get another chance. She spoke with her body, telling him that he had imprinted on her very soul. Their lovemaking was not hurried as the other times; this was slow and sensual and filled with such emotion that when her orgasm overtook her, tears of sadness and joy slipped down her face.
Chapter Sixteen
Rorie looked over his shoulder to check on the progress of his men. Two days into riding and he was nearing the closest he would come to a decent vantage point. The sun was still pretty high in the sky, and they had plenty of time to set up camp, but preparations for battle took much longer.
Ewen rode up beside him. “Here?”
“Aye. Here is about as good as we’ll get. Did we get a pigeon back from our scout yet?”
“Aye. The king’s army is about a day’s ride away. No doubt they have scouts riding north as well, and he will be well aware of our position long before he gets here.”
“Any word from the clans?”
“Nothing yet. It will take Fergus a few more days to get here, but I expect Fraser and Grant sometime today, considering the distance they had to travel compared to us.”
“Get the men set up and let’s take stock of what we have to our advantage.”
“Aye. Rorie, I heard about Muren’s visions.”
Rorie’s guts lurched.
“How?”
“One of the maids was about to enter the chamber the other night to bring fresh linens when she heard your raised voice. She said she dared not enter because it sounded like you were vexed. As she was walking away, she heard you mention visions and keeping it a secret.”
“God’s teeth. Who is she? What do we have to do to keep her quiet?”
“Nothing. She’s auld Allain’s daughter.”
“The ferrier?”
“Aye, and just as quiet as he. She came to me this morning before we left, and told me.”
“And you are certain you can trust her?”
“I am as certain as anyone can be with such information. Does Muren really believe she’s had visions of future events? And what did she see?”
“She does. She says she saw me being run through, and that’s when I cut her off. I do not want my head filled with such images when I need to focus on this conflict with the king. I cannot afford to have my head clouded. And we cannot afford for anyone else to think so. I expect this topic to never rise again.”
“You have my word.”
Rorie watched Ewen ride off to oversee camp being set up. The business with Muren was delicate and dangerous. Between him and her mother, and now Ewen and the maid, the list of people who knew was growing like a cancer. He thought back to the morning he’d left her, her soft body lying next to his. He had watched her sleep for a while before waking her to love her before leaving. She was so passionate. He was a very lucky man to have such a woman who was so free with her desires.
Rorie squirmed in his seat. He needed to put thoughts of her out of his head and focus.
From where they were situated at the head of the glen, they had a perfect view of the only road leading northwest. Here they would pitch, and here they would wait. By all estimations, he would see the king’s banners on the morrow.
Rorie rode around the encampment and watched the men erect tents, dig trenches, and sharpen posts. They had a lot of work to do in a short time, and he hoped he’d see his allies riding in before much longer.
Dismounting, he grabbed an axe and joined the men who were shaping the logs they had felled to make spears for the king’s horses. If they rode hard against them, Rorie’s men would have to stop or at least slow them, or risk being trampled.
An hour later, Ewen tapped Rorie on the shoulder. “Grant is here and said Fraser is not far behind.”
“Excellent.”
He followed Ewen to where Iain Grant was just dismounting. Rorie had met him before but a long time ago, and only briefly. The man was much larger than Rorie remembered, with flaming hair that hung to his shoulders and a thick beard, but the most memorable feature that captured Rorie’s attention was his icy blue eyes. He looked almost wild, and Rorie was glad he did not have to face this man in batt
le.
“Grant.
“MacKenzie. You’re bigger than I remember.”
Rorie smiled. “Aye, and you. Thank you for joining our cause.”
“Someone has to do something. This business has gone on long enough, and what you’re dealing with could be any one of us.”
“How many men have you brought?”
“Five hundred and change.”
“Excellent. Well, we can put them to work right away, finishing the trenches and poles.”
Grant nodded and signaled to his men to go with Ewen and do as they were bid.
A short time later, Fraser rode up. Rorie had never met the man before but knew of him by legend. With hair as black as night and eyes to match, he had the nickname of Raven. As the man dismounted and walked toward them, Rorie could see why he was so aptly named. Head to toe in black, the man carried an intensity about him that would be formidable for anyone who met him on the battlefield.
The Wildman and the Raven. An interesting pair, Rorie noted, as the two men clasped arms in greeting. Being such close neighbours, it would be near impossible to thrive if they feuded. And though they had squabbled in the past, they were close allies for the most part.
“Welcome, friend,” Rorie said to Fraser.
“ ’Tis I should be thanking you for bringing us together in this cause.”
“That’s what I said,” Grant said.
“Well, I’m saying it again,” Fraser said.
“But I said it first,” Grant said.
“And I’m saying it now,” Fraser said.
Listening to the two of them made Rorie’s head hurt. “Enough, you two. Come, we have much work to do. Fraser, how many men did you bring?”
“Eight hundred.”
“Excellent, let’s put them to work. We only have an hour or so of daylight left and a lot of work to do.”
“Aye.”
Fraser went off to instruct his men, then returned to the tent where Rorie had set up his council. He’d laid out the map and positioned markers showing where everyone was located at the moment.
“Do you think Ross can keep Sutherland at bay?”
“If it was the elder Sutherland, I would say no, but Ronan is not his father. He will be stopped.”
“I hope you’re right. What about MacKay, and how many men can he amass on short notice?”
“He can pull together four thousand with a couple months’ notice, but with mere days, he should be coming with a thousand.”
“We will need to stay in contact with him to monitor his progress,” Fraser said.
“Aye,” Grant said. “If Ross runs into trouble, MacKay may need to send some of his forces to their aid.”
“What about Sinclair?” Fraser asked. “Will they join Sutherland or stay out of it?”
“They’ve answered the call before, but who is to say where their loyalties lie now. Being so close to Sutherland, they’ve never been reliable,” Grant said.
“Understandable, since John Sinclair has been sickly. He’s only been interested in keeping the peace. What do we know of the king’s progress?” Fraser asked.
“He will be here on the morrow, and we will be ready for him.”
“So, now can you tell us what this is all about? Why do you battle both the king and Sutherland when you are to marry Sutherland’s sister?”
Rorie recounted the events leading up to that moment, including the fact that he was now married to Sutherland’s sister.
“God’s teeth, man, you must have balls of solid rock,” Fraser laughed.
“It was the only way to protect her from the Douglas.”
“Aye, I see that, but you’ve not only disturbed the hornet’s nest but you've also beaten it down from the tree and danced on it.”
It was an interesting analogy. Rorie scanned the map again and everyone’s positions. Still no word from MacDonald, so he had no idea what to expect there. But MacLeod would block him if he meant to sail north and block his retreat.
Rorie bid his allies good night and lay on the straw pallet after dousing the candles. He covered himself with a fur and listened to the sounds of the night. He’d been in battle before and always found sleep hard to come by in anticipation of the dawn. One way or another, tomorrow would bring change to the situation.
* * *
Muren maneuvered her horse off the road, urging her mother with her when she heard pounding hoofs approaching. They hid behind a tree and watched as several riders passed by. With no distinguishable markings on their tunics, Muren had no idea if they were friend or foe and so waited until they were well past before venturing out onto the road again.
Her grey mare was used to her and was, thankfully, not easily spooked, but it would soon be necessary to take an older Roman road to avoid detection. The decrepit condition of the path would slow their travels, but it was a much-needed trade-off in order to risk not being caught.
They took a turn and ventured onto the overgrown road. Not many used this one anymore since it worked its way through the mountains versus down through the glens. Mostly scouts seeking the goings-on of the Pictish tribes had used this road. The larger roads that were still used now were how the Romans moved their large armies.
As they climbed, the air cooled. Muren wrapped her cloak tighter around her and prayed the mists would remain at bay. After riding for several hours, they came to a small loch. She dismounted and led her mare to it. Her mother did the same. The sun was just dipping toward the horizon.
“We should make plans to camp here tonight. I think it’s about as good as we can expect for comfort, and the horses can drink freely here.”
Muren walked around the side of the loch and found a small clearing that was well protected by trees. It would allow them to avoid detection in the unlikely event that anyone happened by.
The two women made a fire and shared some bread and meat. Her mother warmed the honey mead she’d brought, and Muren sipped the sweet drink, enjoying the way it spread comforting heat through her body.
“What is your plan for when we get to Dunrobin?” Morag asked.
“I plan to walk into the castle and find my brother.”
“Do you think he will be there, or do you think he will be trying to break through Ross’s defences to get to Rorie?”
“I do not know. But we will go to Dunrobin first. If he is not there, I will find him and talk some sense into him.”
“I know that, love. Have you thought any more on your visions?”
“I do not need to. They were crystal clear to me. I know they mean that if I do not intervene, I will lose my husband.”
“But you never saw him laid out. You only saw the injury, not the result.”
“I didn’t need to see the result. Those were mortal wounds. I know it in my heart.”
Her mother did not press the issue any further, and Muren was grateful for it. Her mind buzzed with the possibilities of what she suggested. All she could rely on now was what she had seen and how that made her feel. In her heart, she was certain Rorie and Ronan were in mortal danger.
The next morning, they broke camp and continued along the old road just as the sun was coming up. At times, Muren was awarded a stunning view of the lands that flattened out to the east, shrouded in a layer of mist. She breathed in the clean air, willing it to cleanse her mind from her troubled thoughts.
If Ronan was still at Dunrobin, she was certain she could get through to him. Nothing she and Freya had said to him had managed to sway him from allowing the betrothal with the Douglas to go ahead. But now that she was already married, surely he would see that peace could be had. The Douglas could be compensated another way. They had more money than they knew what to do with. Surely the man could be paid off and sent away.
As for the king, she prayed Rorie would utilize a diplomatic approach and do everything he could to avoid a bloody battle. Her stomach lurched as the image of him doubled over flashed across her mind.
She pushed the image aside and fo
cused on the journey ahead. Grateful for her mother’s company, she was equally thankful she did not find it necessary to chat while they rode. The silence allowed Muren to mull over just what she would say to Ronan.
As the sun fell toward the horizon, Muren and her mother rode up to the drawbridge of Dunrobin Castle. Old trepidation welled up and bubbled to the surface, but Muren worked hard to tramp it down so she could maintain her courage.
They only had to wait a moment or two until the drawbridge was lowered and they were permitted entry.
Freya rushed out to meet them.
“By God, you’re a sorry sight!”
Muren dismounted and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug by a very pregnant Freya.
“It is good to see you, sister. Where is my brother?”
“He is not here.”
Muren’s heart squeezed. She was too late.
“Where is he, Freya?”
“Come inside and let me get you fed and rested. You look like death warmed over.”
“We have little time. I must find Ronan.”
“What has happened?”
“I will explain, but first you must tell me where he is.”
Freya looked from Muren to her mother and back again. “He was bid to the king, to aide him in a campaign.”
Muren’s heart sank. “When?”
“A sennight ago.”
Christ’s teeth. Rorie was walking into a trap. Ross would not be able to stop Sutherland because the king’s army had somehow skirted around them before Rorie had even asked them to block the route. Rorie was not just waiting for the king’s army; he was awaiting the added thousands in Ronan’s army, too. There was no way MacKenzie, Fraser, and Grant numbers could match what approached.
Muren turned to her mother. “We must leave again at once.”
“Our horses need the rest, Muren. We will ride them to their death if we do not let them rest.”
“You must tell me what is going on,” Freya said while rubbing her belly.
“We will come inside, but we will have to borrow two fresh mares. I need to warn Rorie.”
Muren and her mother followed Freya into the castle and to the great hall. Chairs were moved to the hearth, and the women were brought bowls of stew and pieces of crusty bread along with a tankard of ale and goblets.
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