“She’s a liar as well. Donald can vouch that I speak the truth.”
The sheriff turned to Donald who leaned against the doorway of the sheriff’s office with his arms folded across his chest. Donald’s disgusted expression was easily read.
“Well?” the sheriff asked.
Donald answered with a shrug of his shoulders, as if he didn’t give a damn about anything.
Nora assumed Donald’s silence was his way of avoiding outright lying to the sheriff. His reticence proved Nora’s opinion correct. Donald was just as much a coward as Horace. Though she had not expected him to come to her defense, his silence still irked her. Silently, she wished them all to go to the devil.
The sheriff harrumphed before taking another bite of his mutton. He stared at Nora as he wiped the grease onto the sleeve of his shirt. He studied her quietly for a moment before looking up at Horace.
“’Tis your right as her husband to have her punished for her misdeeds. How do you want to do it?”
The evil sneer that Nora had come to loathe resurfaced on Horace’s face. “The hole,” he said as he glared at Nora.
Nora could contain neither her shock nor her fear. A gasp passed through her lips and she suddenly felt nauseous all over again.
The hole was a deep, dark place that sat near the center of the village. It was a place where criminals, thieves and ne’er-do-wells were sometimes put as a means of punishment. A set of wooden planks covered the hole where the accused would be left in almost complete darkness. How long the guilty stayed was dependent upon the nature of the crime or the discretion of the sheriff. Seldom, if ever, did the sheriff show mercy.
“Horace, please,” Nora began to plead with him. She would have received more sympathy and compassion from a stone.
“You heard the sheriff. ’Tis my right as your husband to choose your punishment.” Horace pulled on the rope again and began to lead her toward the hole.
In England, criminals were afforded more rights than a wife. All a husband need do was accuse his wife of some offense. It mattered not if he told the truth or lied. A wife was considered to be the husband’s property, to do with as he pleased. No amount of begging or pleading would change the fact that the sheriff believed Nora to be Horace’s wife.
“I had our marriage annulled!” Nora cried out. Horace came to an abrupt halt.
The sheriff had finished his mutton and tossed the bone to the ground. People in the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves.
“When did you have that done?” he asked as he took a step toward her.
“Months ago,” Nora said anxiously as her chest heaved up and down.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow as if he was not sure he should believe her. “Who annulled it?”
“A priest,” Nora began. “Father Michael is his name.”
“I know of no priest by that name here,” the sheriff said.
“He is Father Michael of Dunshire,” Nora suddenly felt quite unsteady.
Horace interjected with a laugh. “A foul Scottish priest!”
The sheriff seemed to be mulling the facts over in his mind. A man in the crowd spoke up. “I do not think a Scottish priest can annul an English marriage.”
The sheriff turned to face the crowd as if their opinions had any merit to the situation at hand. “I think we should let the earl decide,” he told Horace before quickly adding. “He’s gone until the morrow. You can put her in the hole until he’s made his decision.”
Nora felt all hope disappear in the span of one heartbeat. The earl hated all Scots and anything associated with them. He would give no weight to Father Michael’s annulment, even if the church were to allow it. He would find Nora guilty simply because she had associated with a Scot.
Her feet felt as though they were cast in iron as Horace led her to the hole. Exhausted, nauseous, and terrified, she had no fight left to give. Her limbs felt as weighted down as her spirits as she reluctantly took the ladder down into the dark hole. Horace pulled the ladder up the moment her feet hit the dirt.
The last vision Nora saw before darkness completely enveloped her was Horace’s gleam of victory as he placed the last plank over the entrance.
Twenty-Nine
Nora had lost all track of time. The tiny rays of sunshine that had streamed into the hole earlier had disappeared, along with any hope she had that Wee William would come for her.
When she had first entered the hole, she felt along the wall and counted out her steps. She had dug a tiny hole in the dirt floor and slowly made her way around in the dark. Thirty-six steps later she had made her way back to her mark. It was as she figured it to be -- a very small space.
She sat huddled against the cold dirty wall, shivering uncontrollably, thirsty, unsettled, and frightened. Horace knew all too well how much she hated the dark and he used that simple bit of knowledge to punish her. She supposed he was sitting in the inn right now, gloating over the fact that he had found her and brought her back for his idea of justice.
The only satisfaction she could take was the belief that his reputation would precede him and there would not be a woman within three hundred miles that would ever agree to be his wife. She felt as though she were saving innocent women from the same fate she had endured. Sacrificing her life would keep other women safe.
As much as she tried to sleep, her dreams were invaded with images of wolves, satyrs, and Horace’s laughing face. He taunted her, called her names, laughed at her fears and weaknesses. There were moments when she questioned her lucidity for it became difficult to separate reality from her dreams.
Her stomach, though devoid of any food or water, still wretched, sometimes violently. Knowing she would most likely be left to die in the hole did not mean she would die without holding on to some of her dignity. With her bare hands she had dug as far as she could and used that space to empty her bladder and to wretch in and tried to stay as far away from it as possible.
Between fits of sleep, she cried. Her heart ached for Wee William. She sent silent prayers up asking the good Lord to let Wee William know she had forgiven him. Aye, he had lied, but she realized now why. He had lied because he loved her. William had shown her nothing but kindness and adoration. He respected her, loved her unconditionally. To her core, she knew he would never do anything to hurt her, not intentionally anyway. Nay, he would have done anything he could to protect her.
She longed to feel his arms around her, to listen to his steady breathing as he slept, holding her tightly yet gently. Each morning when they woke to start their day, he oft said he did not want to let her go. William’s idea of holding on to her was so far removed from Horace’s.
Wee William wanted to hold on to her because he loved her, cherished her. Horace held as much value in Nora as he did his ox. In his mind there was no distinction between the two. He owned Nora and Benny and could do whatever he pleased with either.
She was grateful for the time she had spent with William. He had taught her what true love and adoration felt like. He allowed her to love him as much as he loved her. Their love and devotion to one another was something she could take into the afterlife with her, although it was only a few moments compared to the lifetime she wanted with him.
As she sat holding on to her memories, her heart tearing with each beat, she though she heard a scratching sound coming from above. Her first thought was that it was Horace coming to taunt her further, mayhap throw down garbage or a few rats to make her even more miserable.
She held her breath and listened, though it was difficult to hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears. One of the planks was lifted and moonlight streamed in, but only for a moment. A figure soon blocked most of it before she heard a soft whooshing of air and a quiet thud as something landed on the floor. Nora could not move, fearful the object dropped was filled with something she did not want to see.
“Lass,” came a familiar voice.
Nay! It couldn’t be. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She’d been stuck
in the hole for far too long. She’d officially lost her mind and was now lost in some odd hallucination.
“Lass,” the voice whispered to her. “’Tis me, David!”
Nora shook her head as if doing so would break the spell of the hallucination.
“Lass, there be water and food wrapped inside the blankets,” David called down to her.
It was all too much to hope for. It had to be a dream, hadn’t it? Nora reluctantly felt around in the dark until her hands landed on the soft blanket. If she were hallucinating, would she be able to feel the soft blanket under her fingertips? She doubted it.
Jumping to her feet, she clung to the blanket and looked up into the darkness. “Is that really you, David?” she called up to him. Her throat felt sore and scratchy from lack of water and all her crying.
“Aye, lass!”
Nora could hear the significant sound of relief in his voice. She could almost imagine the bright smile that was undoubtedly formed on his face.
“Daniel and a few others are with me. We need ye no’ to give up hope, lass. Wee William will be here soon. There are too many English soldiers nearby to get ye out just yet. Can ye hold on for a while?”
She was too relieved and happy to ask how long it might take. As long as she knew they were there, simply waiting for Wee William and more men to arrive, she reckoned she could last for weeks if needed. For the first time in days, she felt more than just a glimmer of hope. She felt down right giddy!
“Aye, I can David!” She could get through anything knowing her husband was on his way.
“I’m sorry I let ye down, lass,” David whispered.
Nora could hear the sincerity and regret in his voice. “It isn’t your fault, David, it is mine. I set out to find Horace so that I could run my sgian dubh through his heart.”
She could hear David chuckle from above. “I ken ye weren’t a Sassenach the first time I met ye! And yer Gaelic be improvin’, lass!” he said. “I must go now. Just ken that we’re nearby, watchin’. If things get too ugly, we’ll no’ wait for Wee William. We’ll get ye out, I promise.”
David replaced the plank before Nora had a chance to thank him.
Although it was dark again, her spirits had been lifted a thousand fold. She sat back against the wall and carefully unwrapped the contents of the blanket. She felt the flagon of water, a loaf of bread that smelled magnificent even in the musty confines of her prison. Further inspection found a hunk of cheese, dried meat that turned out to be venison, and a small pouch filled with ripe berries.
She drank greedily at first, the cold water soothing her scratchy throat. Not knowing how soon before she’d be rescued, she decided to ration out the water and the food. It might be days before Wee William arrived and it might be too risky for David to bring her more supplies.
Nora wrapped the blanket around her body and ate some of the bread and cheese and a few of the berries. Her stomach tried to protest the invasion of food, but she forced herself not to wretch again.
With her thirst sated and her belly as full as it could tolerate, she curled up under the blanket. William is on his way! As much as she wanted to shout that news out to the world, she knew better. It might be days from now, but her husband, her true husband, the man who loved her was on his way.
The despair and anguish she had felt only moments ago evaporated like an apparition. She felt happy, elated, and hopeful. This would all be over soon. Wee William was coming for her and soon she would be back in Scotland, back in their little cottage next to Castle Gregor. She would soon be reunited with John and Elise. Nora vowed she would never again leave any of them. And if she must leave, she’d have more sgian dubhs hidden about her person than any man could find.
And she would never again let her temper control her actions.
Horace couldn’t resist the urge to check on Nora. She’d been in the hole for two days now. He imagined he would find her curled up in a little ball, crying her stupid blue eyes out, trembling and terrified. The image excited him and put a little bounce in his step.
He would go check on Nora then head over to Castle Firth and find Fritz. Fritz would help to alleviate some of his physical needs. The image of his whore of a wife trembling with fear combined with the knowledge of Fritz’ expertise at certain things doubled his excitement.
He left the inn and practically skipped his way to the hole. Confusion began to set in as he neared the hole. Something was wrong. The closer he got to the hole, the louder the sound. Angrily, he flipped up the plank and peered down.
She was supposed to be huddled in a ball, terrified, overcome with fear and trepidation. She was not supposed to be singing.
“What the bloody hell are you doing Nora?” he blared down at her.
Nora looked up, shielded her eyes with the back of her hand, and smiled.
“Good morning to you, Horace,” she said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”
This was all wrong. “Why were you singing?” he demanded.
Her smile increased. “Well, I made a decision.”
Horace blinked, growing just as irate as he was confused. “What are you talking about?”
Nora giggled. “I decided that I’ll not let you win. Aye, I might die a horrible death down here, all alone in the dark. But I’ll die knowing that I did nothing wrong and that you are a despicable, perverse man who prefers the company of boys to women. I’ll die knowing you’ll burn in hell someday. That gives me a good deal of satisfaction and makes me want to sing!”
Horace could only conclude that she had lost her mind. She wasn’t truly happy—she was insane. It was the only plausible explanation. Oh, she would die in that hole, he was certain of it. Sooner or later, her smile would fade. She could pretend for now not to be worried, not to be fearful. He knew her better than that.
“Bah! You’ve lost your mind, woman! Sing all you want to. It won’t change the fact that I’m up here and you’re down there. It’s your grave you’re singing in.” He rolled his eyes and replaced the plank.
As he walked away, Nora began to sing again. He couldn’t make out the words, but the sound of her gleeful singing made his ballocks shrink. He cursed at her as he walked toward the castle. I’ll have the last laugh he swore to himself.
Singing helped to soothe Nora’s worries and to pass the time. She hadn’t expected to see Horace, but found a good deal of satisfaction in the confusion she saw on his face. It made her feel a bit happier knowing she had irritated and confused him. She was quite sure he had stomped off thinking he would have the last laugh. His ignorance, arrogance, and selfishness was going to be the death of him. A tingling sensation came over her when she thought of him finally dying. She couldn’t help herself. Knowing William would eventually arrive and Horace would finally get what was coming to him, brought forth the overwhelming urge to dance happily around the hole.
It won’t be long now, she thought happily. William will be here soon. He’ll take me home.
Settling down, Nora fell asleep with a smile on her face, happy in the belief that William was on his way. For the first time in many days, she actually dreamt of her cottage and flowers blooming across the Highlands, of her husband and John and Elise.
It had taken Wee William and their group two days to locate Gillon and Bree. It had taken only moments to extricate her from Gillon’s encampment.
Gillon had miscalculated several things. Firstly, he misjudged the amount of time required to make it to Bowie lands. While he thought he was safely ensconced in Bowie territory, he was in fact, camped on Carruthers land. Gillon and his band of fools had missed the mark by nearly thirty miles.
Secondly, he had misjudged his accomplices’ fealty. When they had seen the furious Angus McKenna, Wee William, Caelen McDunnah, and Nial McKee along with seventy-five equally furious Highlanders storm into their camp, not one of Gillon’s men stood to fight or defend him. Obviously, Gillon Randolph had not earned enough of their respect or admiration that they were willing to lay down th
eir lives for him.
Thirdly, he misjudged his captive’s tenacity, intelligence, and determination entirely. Bree McKenna was every bit her father’s daughter and she was determined not to be one of Gillon Randolph’s victims.
Nial was the first man to dismount and with sword drawn, he demanded to know the whereabouts of Bree McKenna. The young man to whose throat Nial held the edge of his sword shakily told him she was in the tent with Gillon. Nial shoved the terrified young man to the side and bounded to the tent, threw open the flap and stepped inside.
Nial was beyond furious, his face red with anger, every muscle on full alert, ready to do battle if he must, in order to save Bree. He had been fully prepared to kill Gillon Randolph, either with sword or his bare hands, he didn’t care which. He had not, however, been prepared for the sight before him.
There was Bree, straddled over a prone, gagged and bound Gillon Randolph. She had a sgian dubh in one hand while her forearm was bearing down on the back of his neck. A blend of relief and admiration washed over Nial.
“I see ye have things well in hand,” Nial muttered, as he stood dumbfounded at the entrance of the tent.
Bree had not seen him enter for she had been so focused on making certain Gillon understood that, in no uncertain terms, she would cut off his manly parts before she would ever become his wife. Startled, she raised her head at the sound of Nial’s voice. Nial watched as her shoulders sagged in what could only be relief.
She was a vision of beauty as far as he was concerned. Aye, she was covered in dust and dirt, her dress was torn in several places, and her hair had come loose from its braid.
Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series Page 38