by B. J. Scott
“It willna be as easy to get an audience with the priest as you think,” Simon said. “He has the abbey heavily guarded.”
“Let me worry about that. If it takes a battering ram and brute force to get in, so be it,” Alasdair said. “You take care of our brother while I fetch the lad. I’ll leave Bryce and Ian here to help you. You’re going to need someone to hold him steady while you set that leg.”
Simon nodded, murmured something in Latin, then made the sign of the cross in the air. “May the Lord watch over you and bring you back safely, Alasdair.”
Alasdair turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder at Lazarus. “You stay put and mind Brother Simon. I’ll bring your lass and the lad back safely.”
Lazarus stared at the ceiling as darkness threatened to close in around him. At least if he died now, he would do so knowing an effort was being made to save Sheena and Quinn. But when Bryce an Ian approached, carrying two long branches and an armful of linen rags, his eyes widened.
“Where do you want these, Brother Simon?” Bryce asked.
“Right here beside me. Then I’ll need you to hold him steady,” Simon said, then glanced at Lazarus. “This is going to hurt like the blazes, but it must be done. If we dinna set your leg, you may never walk again.”
Bryce crouched beside him and placed his hand on Lazarus’s shoulder. “I have some whisky. Do you fancy a swig before the brother starts?”
“Nay,” Lazarus said through gritted teeth, then glared up at Simon. “Get on with it.”
Simon nodded, then placed a small branch in Lazarus’s mouth. “Bite down on this and I’ll move as quickly as possible.”
Lazarus waited with bated breath while Bryce positioned himself on one side of him and Ian on the other. He was not a coward, but when Simon grasped his ankle, then tugged on his leg, all he wanted to do was die.
Chapter 18
Sheena wrung her hands while pacing the length of her priory cell. A couple of days had passed since her visit to Coldingham Abbey and she could not get the image of Lazarus out of her head. Was he still alive? He was so weak, his face and body battered and bruised. She cursed beneath her breath, wishing she had never let Simon talk her into leaving him. And what of Quinn? Father Marquis assured her he was unharmed, but could she believe him?
The door opened. “I dinna mean to disturb you, m’lady, but I knocked twice and you dinna answer,” a woman said as she entered the room.
“I’m sorry, Sister Agnes. My mind was elsewhere.” Sheena faced the Reverend Mother of the convent. “Has there been any word from Brother Simon?”
Agnes shook her head. “Nay. We havena heard from him since he left you here. I just stopped by to see if all was well.” She glanced at the trencher of food on the small table beside Sheena’s bed and frowned. “You havena eaten enough to keep a wee bird alive and have remained holed up in your cell since you arrived. I’m getting concerned.”
“There is no need to fash,” Sheena replied. “I’m grateful for the sanctuary, but I canna stop thinking about my brother and—” She caught herself before she said any more. Father Marquis warned her not to tell anyone about what had happened to Lazarus, or that Quinn was being held prisoner. She feared for both of their lives.
Sister Agnes took her hand. “Brother Simon dinna have time to explain why he brought you to stay with us, only that you needed our help. You mentioned you have a brother just now. Where is the lad, and why are you so worried about him?”
Sheena lowered her gaze and shuffled her feet. She had to come up with an answer that would satisfy Sister Agnes, but not disclose the truth. She had already said too much. “I . . . um . . .”
One of the sisters burst into the room, panting in an attempt to catch her breath. “Sister Agnes! There is a man in the vestibule, and he is demanding to see Sheena.”
“What man?” Agnes asked. “Calm down, Sister Mairi, and tell me what this fuss is all about.”
Before Sister Mairi could explain further, a burly Scottish warrior appeared in the doorway.
“Who are you, sir, and what do you want?” Sister Agnes stood between the man and Sheena.
“I am Alasdair Fraser and I’m here to find Sheena MacLean. Might this be her?”
“Why do you wish to know?” Sister Agnes planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “This is a convent, a place where people come to reflect, worship, and find sanctuary. You have no business barging in here, and I ask that you leave at once.” She pointed toward the hallway.
“I’m here in regards to Brother Lazarus and am not leaving without the lass.” He returned Sister Agnes’s glare with one of equal determination.
“Who?” Agnes furrowed her brow. “I know of no Brother Lazarus, and the lass is going nowhere with you.”
Sheena had to admire the nun’s spunk. For a woman she guessed had seen at least sixty summers, she was as feisty and stubborn a woman as she’d ever met.
Sheena’s heart began to pound, her stomach knotting with dread. She was certain he came to deliver bad news, but she had to know. “What is it you want to tell me about Brother Lazarus?”
“You dinna have to speak with this man,” Sister Agnes reminded her.
“I want to hear what he has to say,” Sheena said. “Please leave us alone.”
The nun gave her head a shake, then folded her arms over her chest. “I dinna like the idea of you being alone with this man. You were left in my care, and—”
Sheena held up her hand. “I’ll be fine. Please leave us.”
Sister Agnes steepled her hands together as if she was about to pray and bowed. “As you wish. Come, Sister Mairi, we will leave them alone to talk.” She turned, then left the room, grumbling under her breath. Sister Mairi followed close behind. But as they reached the hallway, the Reverend Mother spun on her heel and addressed Alasdair. “I dinna like this one bit and I’ll be waiting in the hallway. Dinna try anything.”
“With you guarding the door, I wouldna dream of it.” Alasdair tossed back his head and laughed.
Sheena glowered up at him. “I see no humor in any of this. Tell me what you know about Brother Lazarus. Is he . . .?” She bowed her head and crossed herself.
“Nay, he isna dead. In fact, he is very much alive and if he werena injured and flat on his back recovering, he would be here himself. Instead, I have come to take you to him.” Alasdair held out his hand in her direction. “Come, we have much to do before we see Lazarus.”
She took a step back, then raised her hands in the air. “Hold. I’m na going anywhere with you. You’re a stranger, and how do I know this isna a means by which to trap me? How did you know I was here?”
Alasdair moved in her direction. “Brother Simon told us where you were hiding.”
Sheena wrapped her arms around her middle, then peered up at him. “You spoke to Simon? Why did he not come himself?”
“Because he is with Lazarus, tending to his injuries,” Alasdair replied.
“This must be some sort of trick.” Sheena slowly shook her head from side to side and backed away. “Nay. You lie. Lazarus is locked in a cell beneath Coldingham Abbey and Father Marquis wouldna let Brother Simon anywhere near him.”
“He was in a cell beneath the abbey.” Alasdair tried again to reach out to her, but she swatted his hand away. “I dinna blame you for being wary. Simon explained to me about the threats made by Father Marquis against Lazarus and Quinn. But you can trust me. I’m Lazarus’s brother.”
Her mouth gaped open and she found herself momentarily at a loss for words, then she squared her shoulders and pinned him with a stare. “Lazarus has no brother. He has no family. He was a foundling raised by the monks.”
“He is a Fraser. Andrew James Fraser to be exact. The oldest son of Laird Andrew Fraser of Beauly.”
“I di
nna understand.”
“We believed he was dead or we would have left no stone unturned,” Alasdair said. “My brothers and I saw him slain along with our da during the massacre at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Or so we thought.”
“If you believed he was dead all these years, why do you seek him out now?”
“You were attacked in Berwick a little over a fortnight ago, were you not?”
She nodded.
“Our cousin Ian was in Berwick on clan business. He happened by right after you were assaulted and offered his assistance. Lazarus had already managed to run the assailants off, but you were injured and needed to be taken home. He paid my cousin to do so with a dirk like this.” Alasdair unsheathed a weapon with a jeweled handle and showed it to Sheena. “It was made by our father, and there are only six like it in all of Scotland. He made one for each of his five sons.”
“You said there were six dirks made by your father, yet he only had five sons.”
Alasdair nodded. “We recently had a matching one made for our sister, Arya. When Ian saw the dirk and noticed the strong family resemblance, he let us know right away that he suspected our brother was still alive. We came as soon as we could, but we had a lot of territory to cover. All we knew was he wore monk’s robes, lived near Berwick, and called himself Brother Lazarus. It was by pure luck we happened upon Ayton Abbey and Brother Simon.”
She studied Alasdair. “I see no family resemblance.”
Alasdair laughed. “That is because I got my handsome looks and auburn locks from our da. James, Connor, and Bryce took after our mother. Once you see the three of them together, you will have no doubts they are related.”
“That is an interesting tale, but Lazarus is being held prisoner by Father Marquis, so how could Simon be taking care of him?”
“Simon learned our brother was being sent to France, so we intervened before they reached the ship. There was a skirmish with the French soldiers, but we managed to free him.” Alasdair leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I’m afraid the Frenchmen were killed.”
“I canna say I’m sorry to hear about the demise of those brutal bastards. And I’m relieved to know Lazarus is safe and no longer subject to their torture. When last I saw him, he was badly injured and in need of a healer.”
“When we first told Simon about the rescue plans, he suggested if we were successful in freeing him, that we take our brother to an abandoned convent not far from Berwick. It is there he is being cared for and is waiting for you.”
Sheena turned her back to him and stared out the window. “I canna go. If Simon told you about Lazarus, he must have mention that my wee brother Quinn is also being held by Father Marquis. I canna leave until I figure out a way to get him back.”
“That is the other reason I’m here, to see that Quinn is released as soon as possible.” Alasdair cupped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I would never expect you to desert the lad.”
She fought back tears as she turned to face him. “How do you plan to get him back? Father Marquis is an evil man and willna give him up without a fight. He swore if I told anyone what had happened to Quinn, he’d—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Dinna fash. I intend to see nothing happens to the lad,” Alasdair replied. “I give you my word that Quinn will be returned to you before this day is over.”
“But how?”
“I’ll go into the abbey and demand the lad be released. And if Father Marquis doesna agree, I’ll take him by force if necessary. Either way, he will be returned to you hale and hardy.” Alasdair extended his hand. “Will you come with me?”
After a moment, she nodded. Going with a stranger might seem like a foolish venture, but since they’d talked, she sensed a sincerity about Alasdair, something that made her believe he was telling the truth.
Chapter 19
Lazarus opened his eyes and searched the empty room for Simon. He lay upon the floor of the convent, covered by a thick layer of pelts, but he appeared to be very much alone. Thoughts of Sheena and Quinn flooded his mind and his heart began to race. Had Alasdair been successful at retrieving them? He had no idea how much time had passed since his departure. It could be hours or days for all he knew.
“You’re awake.” Simon entered the room smiling. “The others will be pleased to hear it.” He knelt beside Lazarus and slid his hand beneath his head. “Do you feel up to having a drink?” He brought a pewter cup to his lips.
Lazarus grasped the vessel with both hands and drank greedily. The refreshing liquid slashed over his tongue and warmed his belly. “Thank you,” he said once he’d had his fill, then he released the cup.
“It’s good to see you so alert. Perhaps we can tempt you with some food once you’re feeling a bit stronger.”
“Sheena? Is she here?” Lazarus clutched the sleeve of Simon’s robe.
“Nay. Alasdair has not yet returned. But I pray he will soon.”
“How long was I asleep?” Lazarus asked.
“Two days. You lost consciousness right after Alasdair left. This is the first you’ve opened your eyes. The Lord mercifully let you sleep while I set your broken leg and wrapped your ribs. Otherwise, I’m not sure you could have endured the pain.” Simon brushed his fingers across Lazarus’s brow. “Your fever has broken too.”
“They should have been here by now. Something must have happened.” Lazarus could have cared less about his own state of health when the uncertainty of Sheena and Quinn’s safety weighed so heavily on his mind. “If anything happened to either of them because of their association with me, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You must be patient, Lazarus. Retrieving the lad is a task that takes careful planning. I’m sure he is safe and I would wager they are on their way to the convent as we speak.” He tucked the pelt around Lazarus’s chest. “Right now, you need to rest. When you awaken again, I’ll bring you some broth.”
“I canna sleep. Not until I know for certain if Alasdair was successful,” Lazarus said. “Help me to sit up.”
“It is too soon. You need to lie still and shouldna move about too much,” Simon cautioned.
“I have been on this hard floor for so long, my arse is numb and my back is aching.” Lazarus tried to roll over, but stopped when assaulted by crushing pain squeezing his chest. When he moved his broken leg, he wished he hadn’t. He drew in a shallow, ragged breath then peered up at Simon. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“You’re a thrawn man.” Simon slid his arm under Lazarus’s right shoulder and gently lifted. “Move slowly or you will live to regret it.”
“I already do,” Lazarus mumbled, then gritted his teeth while battling the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over him. Perhaps he should have listened to Simon.
“Lean back. The wall should give you some support,” Simon said before covering Lazarus with a pelt. He rocked back, resting on his heels. “Are you comfortable?”
“As good as can be expected.” Lazarus closed his eyes and tilted his head toward sunlight coming through the open window. “The warmth from the rays on my face feels wonderful. It must be close to noon.”
“Aye. It is a glorious day,” Simon replied.
Lazarus looked at his friend. “Now that I’m awake, are you going to tell me who the men are who rescued me and why?”
“Perhaps I can answer your questions,” a tall, dark-haired man said as he approached. “You must be feeling better. You’re sitting up and even have a wee bit of color in your cheeks. Aside from the bruises.” He stopped halfway into the room. “I must say, you had us worried.”
Lazarus nodded, then scrubbed his hand across his beard-stubbled chin. “I feel better than I have in a sennight. And it appears, I owe a debt of gratitude to you and your friends.”
“Our brothers,” the man corrected him.
“I dinna understand.” Lazarus scratched his head. “What do you mean by our brothers? I have no kin.”
“You’re wrong.” The man chuckled. “What I’m about to tell you might take some getting accustomed to, but in time, you will learn to love us despite our faults. I guess I should start by introducing myself properly. I’m Connor Fraser.”
“Fraser? Be you kin to a man named Ian Fraser?” Lazarus asked. “I met him not long ago in Berwick.”
“Aye. He is our cousin.”
“Our?” Lazarus asked again. He was getting more confused by the minute.
“Once I’ve explained this will all make sense,” Connor reassured him. “I am laird of Clan Fraser. We live in Beauly, a town not far from Inverness. We—”
“If you’re Highlanders, why are you here in the Borderlands? Better yet, why did you help me?” Lazarus interrupted.
“Because that is what family does.”
“Family?”
“Aye. Alasdair, Bryce, and I are your younger brothers,” Connor replied. “I know this might be a lot to take in right now, especially since Simon told us that when he found you after the Battle of Berwick-upon-Tweed you dinna recall anything about your past.”
Lazarus studied Connor for a moment before he responded. While he saw no resemblance between himself and Alasdair, he had to admit looking at Connor was like staring at his own reflection in a still pond. “If this is true, and you are in fact my brothers, why did you wait so long to find me? It has been twenty summers since the battle.”
“We believed you were dead or we’d have never have stopped searching for you,” Connor said. “You and Da were at the cattle auction when Longshanks attacked the village. Alasdair, Bryce, and I were off visiting the vendors. Da said we were too young to take part in the sale, or the secret meeting that was supposed to take place with the other lairds. He wanted us out from under foot. But as oldest son, and next in line to be laird, he allowed you to stay.”