by J. L. Jarvis
Ten days had passed since they had arrived in Edinburgh, and the lads were over for supper with news. The Privy Council had issued an order offering liberty to prisoners if they would sign a bond promising not to take up arms against His Majesty again. When she heard it, Mari jumped with glee and threw her arms about Hughie.
“Does Jamie ken yet?”
“Aye,” said Hughie, smiling. “Duncan told him not an hour ago.”
Then Mari threw her arms about Duncan and kissed his cheek. Callum sat across the room with his feet propped up and watched, laughing as Duncan took Mari’s elbows and gently stepped back an arm’s length from her.
“Jamie’s going to be free!”
Duncan said, “Not yet, Mari. He’s not yet agreed to sign it.”
“Well, I’ll just have to convince him.” She looked at Duncan frankly.
“He didnae seem very likely to do it when I saw him.”
Mari would hear none of it. “He just needs time to consider it. He’ll see it’s the right thing to do.”
Hughie pulled out his fiddle. “This calls for a ceilidh!”
Duncan gave him a dark look.
“For Mari,” said Hughie.
Charlie swept Mari into a dance while Alex played the bodhrán. Soon he begged off, claiming fatigue, but Mari saw through him. He wanted a drink. With gentlemanly flourish, he offered Mari back to her husband, but he declined.
“Oh, Callum, dance with me!” said Mari.
“No, lass, my leg’s not up to it.” He noticed Duncan leaning on the mantle, a drink in his hand. “Duncan, this fine lass needs a partner.” Callum held out Mari’s hand. Mari’s smile faded to see Duncan’s reluctance.
“Callum, no,” Mari said, her eyes darting toward the frowning Duncan.
Duncan surprised her by coming over and taking her hand. Mari smiled, and his frown nearly dissolved. They danced about the room. To Mari’s surprise, Duncan was a fine dancing partner. Whatever had troubled him was gone now. Mari’s joy seemed to spread to everyone present. Charlie took a turn dancing with Mari. In the midst of the song, Callum set down his whisky. It landed too hard, causing the music and dancing to stop. All turned toward him in silent expectation.
“Sorry,” said Callum as he took pains to slowly stand up. “I’m going to bed.” His balance faltered.
“Steady, lad.” Charlie laughed.
Alex chimed in, “Whisky willnae cure your leg, but it fails more agreeably than most.”
Everyone laughed except Callum, who stared with a look of confusion and then sank to the floor.
Charlie was closest. Still laughing, he knelt down to pat Callum’s cheek and drag him up by the armpits. His broad grin changed to alarm. “It’s not drink that ails him. It’s a fever.”
Alex and Duncan helped carry him to bed. As they set him down, his plaid folded over, exposing the putrid bandage covering his leg wound.
“Mari!” Duncan called out, but she was already on her way into the room. “How long has it been like this?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Over a week. The doctor said there’s no more we can do but keep it covered and wait for it to get better.”
“Or worse,” Duncan muttered. He left, and returned an hour later with a professor from the University’s College of Medicine. How Duncan had found him and got him to come so quickly, no one knew or dared ask. A dirk poised at the poor man’s back would not have surprised anyone there, but there was none. He, in fact, seemed to have come quite willingly, which impressed Mari even more with Duncan’s skills for persuasion.
The surgeon applied a mixture of egg yolk, oil of roses, and turpentine to the wound. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on his progress,” he told them. Duncan showed him to the door and pressed something—money, Mari presumed—into his hand. Closing the door, Duncan turned to find Mari before him.
“Thank you,” she said, looking weary.
His reply was brusque. “What else would I do?” His mood changed as he looked intently at her. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He abruptly left, closing the door behind him.
Callum remained feverish, barely talking—and then only in fits of delirium. The doctor came back daily; at what cost, Duncan would not say. Duncan, in fact, said very little, which did not go unnoticed by Mari. The one time he spoke at any length to her was the day after Callum fell ill.
“I’ve been guarding the inmates at Greyfriars Kirkyard.”
“Have you seen Jamie?”
“Aye. Sit down, Mari.”
This prompted immediate alarm. “Tell me.” She searched his eyes as she placed her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand in annoyance. Remembering herself, she removed it at once.
“He’ll not sign,” Duncan told her. “I have talked to him, Mari. He willnae change his mind.”
Mari looked up, and then closed her eyes. “Och, why must he be so stubborn? He could be free.”
“He said he wouldnae sell his conscience for comfort. He’s one of the few. Your brother has strong convictions,” Duncan said with respect.
Mari buried her face in her hands. “First Callum. Now Jamie. It’s too much.” She wept as Duncan sat silently by. When she had calmed down enough to speak, she said, “How many are left?”
“Lass?”
“How many prisoners are left?”
“Of the twelve hundred, barely more than three hundred remain.”
“What will they do to him?”
“I dinnae ken. It’s best not to think of it until we know for certain.”
Mari looked at him gravely. “They could hang him.”
Duncan was reluctant to agree, but he would not lie. “Aye. Or transport him.”
“And what good will his conscience be then?”
“He did ask me to give you a message.”
“What is it?”
“He asks that you not tell your parents. It would be better for them to go on believing he is dead than to suffer another death, should it come to that.”
“There is no chance of my telling them anything. I have written to them. They sent me one letter, their last. I’m not to write to them again.”
He scrutinized her as she looked away. Tears filled her eyes and one trailed down her cheek, and another. His hand twitched as though he might reach up and wipe them away, but he did not.
Her voice wavered as she tried to hold back her emotions. “I’m losing everyone I hold dear.”
“Not everyone, lass.”
As she wiped tears, she said, “If I lose Jamie, I’ll have lost my whole family.”
Duncan said, “You’re one of us now. We’re your family.”
Moved by his words, she reached out and gripped his arm as she turned away and covered her face and her now uncontrollable sobbing.
“Och,” he murmured as he touched his hand to the base of her neck. She spun around and buried her sobs in his chest. Duncan held her in his arms until she was cried out.
Mari lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. “You’re a good friend.”
His expression grew grim, and he looked away. “Aye.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he took a step back. “Goodbye, Mari.”
He turned from her and left without looking back.
* * *
The lads stopped by increasingly often, so that someone was always there with her. It worried her that they felt Callum was so ill that they could not leave her alone for fear something might happen. Duncan came with one or more of them daily to check in on Callum, after which he would slouch in a chair by the window and wait for the others.
On one such day, Alex once caught Mari studying Duncan. “Dinnae worry about him. He’s in a dark mood, is all. It will pass.”
But the dark moods continued. One day, after Mari saw Callum’s doctor to the door, she closed it gently and turned to face Duncan. “What have I done?” His expression was dark and unreadable.
“You are Callum’s friend. He thinks highly of you and of your opinion. And I see that somethin
g’s changed, but I dinnae ken why.”
He held her gaze long enough to scowl and say, “I dinnae ken what you mean.” He turned away and walked to the window.
“I think that you do.” Mari waited. “Duncan, I love Callum. He is my life. I will never hurt him. Why won’t you trust that?”
Impatiently, he glared at her. “Have you not got enough to worry about without bothering with me?”
Hurt but persistent, Mari walked over behind where he stood at the window. “No.”
Duncan bristled.
Growing desperate, Mari said, “I can see you no longer approve of me, or perhaps you never did.”
“Dinnae be daft, woman.”
She said, “Callum’s friends should be my friends. Am I daft to want that?” When he did not respond, Mari put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Duncan? Look at me.”
He whirled about. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and glared. His look frightened her. “Mari, just leave it alone!”
Callum called out from his bed. Duncan released her, and they both rushed to the bedroom. Callum was fully awake for the first time in days. His fever had broken. Duncan watched from the doorway as Mari smiled and brushed Callum’s hair from his forehead. A moment later, the door closed and the latch clicked behind him.
15
The Price of Freedom
In the lingering light of a summer evening, the MacDonell lads arrived to see Callum. They brought armloads of food, which was their habit. For Mari, they brought the surprise of a new shift, jacket, collar, and petticoats.
When she tried to refuse them, Alex said, “You were looking a wee bit tattered there, lassie.”
Charlie added with a wince, “We could not take any more of it, dearie, as we were the ones forced to look at you!”
Feigning offense, Mari said, “Oh, I see! Well, all right then. If I must, I’ll accept these—but only to spare the likes of you sorry lot.” She looked up into his mischievous eyes with a smile as she took the parcels of clothes and started toward the bedroom.
Hughie called after her, “It had nothing to do with two shop girls they followed—or with needing an excuse to go into their shop and make their acquaintance.”
“Och, hold your tongue, Hughie!” said Alex as he swatted Hughie’s head.
“Dinnae listen to him, dearie!” said Charlie. We were only thinking of you.”
Several minutes later the men sat talking and laughing with Callum, whom they had brought to the sitting room and propped up on pillows. The laughter stopped as one by one they saw Mari, just arrived in the room and enjoying the sight of them laughing with Callum. They were pleased by the sight of her too, as she stood in fresh clothing with a warm glow about her. Callum clasped her hand and smiled. His eyes swept over his Mari as the men showered admiration on her. She accepted their words with grace, even though she had not been raised to receive such attention. Her eyes settled on Duncan, who had been silent. Their eyes met. He seemed almost to smile. It was not much, but Mari took it as a semblance of acceptance.
* * *
Days followed in which Callum grew stronger. He and Mari went on walks. By summer’s end, Mari could no longer keep up with him. He was climbing the steep closes and wynds at a near running pace. He would wait at the top and scoop Mari into his arms and steal kisses in shadows.
The lads were over for supper one night, teasing Mari about Callum’s renewed vigor while she cleaned up after supper.
“Mari, lass, that broom will do you no good now that your man can outrun you,” said Alex.
“Aye, then I’d better put it in your more capable hands. And dinnae miss that corner over there,” she said as she placed the broom in his hand.
Callum circled Mari’s waist from behind and said, “A man would be mad to run away from this bonnie lass.” He planted a kiss on her neck.
Charlie clapped his hands over Hughie’s eyes. “Dinnae look, laddie. ‘Tis no sight for young eyes to see.”
Hughie ducked and swatted his older brother away.
With no warning, Duncan announced, “I’ll be leaving.”
Everyone stopped to stare.
With a dismissive shrug, Duncan said, “I’ve signed on with a merchant ship.”
No one seemed quite able to find words, except Mari. “But why?”
He glanced about, but without making eye contact with anyone in the room. Gruffly, he said, “Adventure. New scenery.”
Hughie and Charlie exchanged looks of disbelief. Alex studied Duncan intently.
“Duncan, do you ken what you’re doing?” asked Callum.
Duncan shot a look of annoyance at him. “Aye. I ken well what I’m doing.”
Mari softly said, “Forgive us, but it’s a wee bit sudden.”
Duncan stood abruptly. “Sudden or not, it’s my decision to make, is it not?” The subject was closed. “Thank you for a fine supper, Mari. Callum.” With barely a nod, he was gone.
Callum stared at the door. He had known Duncan since they were boys. When something was wrong, the other one knew it, whether or not they spoke of it. This was different. Something was wrong, and he had not a clue what it was.
Alex rose and went over to Mari and took both of her hands. With a light peck on her cheek, he said, “Thank you, lass. Dinnae worry about Duncan.” Charlie and Hughie started to get up, but Alex waved a hand, urging them to sit down. “Stay, lads. I’ll go find him.”
The next day, still drunk and head pounding, Duncan walked along the Leith docks to a ship bound for Poland. He boarded and did not look back.
Callum took Mari walking that day. The first falling leaves of the season swirled about their feet, looking as restless as Mari now felt.
“I want him to be happy,” said Mari.
“I’ve kent Duncan a long time. He’s a tough man, even by Highlander standards. He will work out what’s bothering him.” Callum gave Mari’s hand a pat where it lay on his arm, and they walked on, enjoying the day.
* * *
Edinburgh’s stone buildings cast shadows over the narrow streets as the bare trees stretched up to the darkening sky. It was a November evening, already dark when Callum came with news. Since Duncan had gone weeks before, Callum had taken his place guarding the prisoners housed in Greyfriars Kirkyard.
“Come, Mari. We’re going to visit your brother.”
“Jamie? Oh, Callum!” She threw her arms about his neck. “Truly?”
“Aye, lass, but we must make haste, and be quiet when we get there. I’m breaking the rules, ken.”
Mari bundled up what was left of a loaf of bread and some bannocks. “I wish I had kent. I’d have cooked for him.”
“Dinnae worry. I’ve seen that he’s gotten the food that you’ve sent. He’s better off than many.” Mari stopped at the door. “He’ll need another plaid.” She rushed to the bedroom and returned with a plaid.
A nearly full moon lit their way through the dark night as they wended their way through the kirkyard. Skulls and crossbones carved into gravestones and mausoleums peered at them as they passed by, while skeletons seemed to stop in the midst of grotesque dancing to watch them.
“Och! ‘Tis a dismal place!” whispered Mari.
Callum looked at her patiently. “It is a graveyard, Mari.”
“Aye, but to make good men bide here alive is not right.”
“It’s a bad business for all of us.”
They arrived at the gate, where a guard stood concealed by the grotesque shadows from tree limbs overhead.
“Hughie?”
“Aye, Callum.” Hughie opened the gate, let them in and then closed the gate quietly behind them.
Callum told Mari, “Wait here with Hughie.”
Mari nodded, bright-eyed with excitement. It had been over seven months since she’d seen Jamie.
Callum gave her shoulders a squeeze and, with a steadying gaze, released her and went in through the gate. He walked down a stone path, leaving Mari behind under the shadowy limbs of an old oak. She shiv
ered, more from nerves than the cold. Yet she could not shake off the uneasy feeling that someone was watching. A sudden flutter of wings taking flight overhead jarred her senses. When the sound of footsteps drew near, she stood still.
“Marion?” came the familiar whisper.
“Jamie!” She threw her arms about him. “Och! You’re so thin!” She took a step back and stood holding his hands.
“Marion, I’ve missed you!” His smile looked weak in the shadowed moonlight.
“Is it very bad, Jamie?”
He lied. “Not as bad as it was. There are only three hundred of us left, so it isnae so crowded.”
“Good.” Mari looked at him, knowing their time would be short, yet finding it difficult to broach that which loomed largest between them.
“Jamie, it’s so good to see you.”
“Aye.” As he gazed at her, memories returned of their last time together, and his eyes shone with the tears he choked back.
“Och, Jamie. How could you let us believe you were dead? We grieved for you so.”
The roar of shouting rose up from the prison. “Stay here with Mari,” Callum told Hughie as he ran. The sounds of fighting grew louder–a brawl had erupted.
Jamie grasped Mari’s hands and pulled her farther from Hughie and spoke in a hush. “Listen, you must help me get out of here.”
“I’m trying, Jamie. But you gave up your best chance.”
“What? To sign their bond an oath saying that we were wrong to fight back? Never. You can live with your choices, but I’m no turncoat. Not after what they did to Ellen. She never backed down. Nor will I.”
Mari flinched, but overlooked the affront. “But Jamie, it’s only paper. You’d be free! Ellen would want that.”
“I’d liefer spit on her grave.”