Debra Kay Leland

by From Whence Came A Stranger. . .

  “They—they only roughed me up a bit.”

  She looked up at the men around her. “He is but a boy!”

  “Aye, a boy that fights like a wild cat! He bit me, he did!”

  She gathered him in her arms and hugged him closer. He stiffened and moaned at her touch and she released him gently. “Turin?”

  “He has cracked ribs, m’lady.” She looked up into Garrick’s stern eyes as he came to stand before them.

  “Yur men did this to him?!”

  “He is lucky they did not crack his skull. As it is, they took the greatest amount of care to get him here in one piece.”

  She frowned at his words then turned back to her brother speaking softly in Gaelic, hoping the men around her would not know what they said. She asked him if her father was with him and he told her it was Egan and his father who had brought him to find her and bring her back, and she stiffened at his words. “Ye do not belong here, lass.”

  Miranda glanced around her at the men who watched her cautiously. “Did ye try to kill the Earl, Turin?”

  “Nay, we only came to take ye back with us, and away from these English dogs!”

  “But truly, someone tried to kill the Earl…”

  “All the better reason for ye to leave. I shall help thee, Miranda. We can take ye from here if ye only can find a way out of the castle and go towards the north, there is a stream that runs there and a small bridge, we shall find ye there, I promise thee!”

  She shook her head slowly as she closed her eyes. “’Tis impossible. And even if I could, I am heavy with child, the journey would be difficult.”

  “We would help thee! This is no place for thee, ye are Welsh, and ye don’t belong with the likes of these!”

  She closed her eyes as tears streamed down her pale cheeks and she kissed him. “I—I don’t know if I can, not the way things are now. They are suspicious of everyone, even me. And they don’t leave me from their sight.”

  “Ye are smart, lass, ye shall find a way. And when ye do, we shall be waiting for ye.”

  Garrick grabbed her arm and drew her away. “Enough whispering! Take him to the dungeon.”

  “The dungeon? Nay, Garrick! He’s but a boy! Ye cannot do this!”

  He held her back when she would have gone after the boy who was hauled to his feet and dragged roughly down the dim corridor.

  “Garrick, I asked him if he shot the arrow that hit the Earl, he told me he did not! He swore it to me!”

  “That remains to be seen. Now, calm thyself, my lady.” She struggled against him until he encircled her in his arm and forced her to stand against his tall frame that felt more like a cold stone wall against her back this time, her breath heaving in and out of her lungs as she looked at her brother’s fearful eyes.

  He murmured in her ear. “The truth shall be had; if the boy is innocent he shall be released…”

  “He shall be tortured! I—I hate ye! Do ye hear me! I hate ye!”

  He turned her in his arm and glared down at her, holding her thin arms in his strong hands. “Careful what ye say, m’lady, I am the only cool head here this night and the only thing that stands between thy brother’s release and his death.”

  She stepped back away from him, but he didn’t let her go. She dropped her head, not wanting him to see the hatred or the fear in her eyes; but he took her chin and lifted her face to his anyway. “I told ye before, ye are an awful liar. Hiding thy head doesn’t hide the look in thy eyes!”

  She pulled away again and refused to look at him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the steps.

  “Nay, please let me stay here with him! Please!” She pulled away again but he caught her wrists and dragged her easily along with him again, then scooped her up in his arms and took the stairs to the corridor above; her arms pinned at her sides—and yet she struggled breathlessly.

  “Have a care for thy child!”

  At his words, she ceased with a great sob and glared at him with teary eyes. “I—I swear if ye kill him—”

  “Ye would do well to plead his case and not to threaten me! I heard ye whispering as ye held him, Miranda, what were ye saying?”

  “If ye heard, then why don’t ye tell me?!”

  “Ye know well ye did not speak the King’s English! Do not be a fool, Miranda. I told ye before, ye would do well to plead his case and not waste time arguing with me this night!”

  She closed her angry eyes as she considered his words, knowing he was right. Knowing he was the only thing that prevented the guards from killing her brother. “…He—he told me that they didn’t shoot the Earl, he swore they didn’t!”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  “Two men from our village.”

  “Who?”

  “…Egan Wallace and his father.”

  “That is the man who ye told me of?!”

  She closed her eyes again. “Aye, but he said that they are innocent!”

  “Then why are they here?”

  She shook her head, knowing she couldn’t tell him.

  “Miranda?”

  She turned her face away. “It has nothing to do with—with what ye have against them!”

  “I need to know why?!”

  She closed her eyes and refused to look at him as he took her to her room. The guard opened the door and he stroke in easily and set her down on a chair with care despite his temper that night, then he knelt before her and grabbed her arms tightly in his strong hands. “If—ye want to see him on the morrow, ye shall tell me now!”

  “Ye would keep me from him?!”

  “Aye, if ye tell me not.”

  She considered it all in a moment of time and then said with a soft sob, “They—they came to take me home...”

  His face grew dark and hard as he stared at her before he answered in a low even tone, “Never.” It was all he said, all he had to say, and then he was gone.

  She slept fitfully that night knowing that Turin was in the dungeons below. She had to get him out, but how?! Her mind whirled with possibilities, trying to think of a plan that all hinged on the promise Garrick had made to let her see her brother that next day… And yet in her mind it seemed so impossible to do…

  Garrick watched his men whip the lad again. “Tell us where the others are and we shall stop!”

  The boy glared at them through bloodshot eyes, but didn’t utter a word. His back was welted but not bloodied, yet. “Enough! He is the lady Miranda’s brother. I shall not see him beaten to death.”

  “Beat me to death if ye like, but I shall tell ye nothing, English dogs!”

  The guard cuffed him again making his head fling to the side. “Ye would do well to remember to whom ye speak to boy!”

  Turin spat the blood in his mouth at the man’s feet, only making him raise his hand to him again.

  “Enough! Put him in a cell!”

  They dragged the boy with them to the cell down the long corridor and threw him in roughly, slamming the door shut behind him. Garrick stood there for a few minutes then went to the door. His voice low and even as he spoke to the young boy who knelt weakly in the dirt, “Turin… if ye care at all for thy sister, ye would tell us what we need to know, and then go home in peace.”

  “Nay! I have come to take her with me and I shall!”

  “She is with child.”

  “We shall take care of our own! She is Welsh, and she belongs with her own people, not to be passed around to English dogs for she is fair to the eye! A husband waits for her, a man who has sworn to protect her. Ye cannot have her! Do ye hear me! Ye cannot have her!”

  He turned from the door then and headed up the steep steps that lead outside. Walking purposefully to the well and washed the smell of the dungeon from himself as he pondered the boy’s words. He had hoped that the boy could have been released but now he was not so sure. He glanced at the darkened windows beyond wondering if she was truly slept. And wondering if he could somehow convince her to make her brother go home, knowing she was the onl
y one who could save his life now. For truly, if she could not, Garrick knew that the boy would be condemned to live it out the rest of his life here hidden away from her in the dungeons or in death…

  Chapter Fourteen

  The long night turned into an even longer day as she waited for Garrick to let her see her brother again. She worried for him in the dark, dank place, as if he were in the very caverns of hell, and yet he did not come. All she could think was that he was already dead—and if he was, she’d never forgive any of them for it! But if he was not, then she had to do something, but short of plotting his release she had nothing but herself to barter with. She paced the room, followed by her maid’s accusing eyes. When would they come get her?! What if something already happened to Turin…?! Her mind whirled enough to make her dizzy. She sank down onto the bed and covered her eyes with her thin arm.

  “Are ye well?”

  She shook her head in reply and tried to hold back the nauseating fear that took hold of her.

  “Do ye want me to go get the healer or Lord Farrington?”

  “Nay…” But even as she said it she was on her knees on the floor with the chamber pot before her, her stomach revolting of its own accord. She rested her head against the edge of chair weakly as the woman pressed a cup into her hand.

  “Here drink this, it shall settle thy stomach.”

  She took but a sip then set it down on the floor next to her. She heard the maid knock on the door and murmur to the guards, but she was too ill to even care… She closed her eyes against the weak nauseated feeling, her head on her arms, giving way to the tears that shook her thin frame…

  She felt his hand before she heard his voice. “Miranda?” For a moment reality mixed and swirled with her dreams as she whispered his name. “…William…” All was quiet except for the warm hand on her shoulder and images of her dream before her. “…Don’t leave me again…” But yet the pressure from the large warm hand remained upon her even as the dream slowly departed. She turned her head slowly and looked at him with dazed confused eyes, as she whispered still not fully awake. “Are—are ye here?”

  “Aye, I am, lass.”

  “Don’t leave me again… please, William… I love ye so…”

  Garrick clenched his teeth at the sound of her heart wrenching pleas, unable to make himself force her from her dream. He leaned closer and whispered against her cheek as his lips left a soft kiss against the skin he found there. “I love thee too…” It was true, he did; though she was not ready to hear such things from him yet.

  She smiled weakly and tilted her head towards his silken kisses, a soft smile on her young face. Caught in the moment and without allowing himself to think further he kissed her back gently. “William…”

  The words were faint, but the reaction within his heart was earth shattering. He wanted her to whisper his name, to welcome his kisses, to tell him she loved him too…

  She smiled then turned towards him, but the smile on her face faded away at what she saw then. She up sat shakily staring at him numbly, her lower lip trembled and he feared she would cry. She dropped her head then moved away unsteadily from where she sat on the floor. “I—I did not know… I—I thought—”

  He reached out to touch her cheek but she moved still farther back from him without a second thought.

  “Please go.” She covered her face with her hands to hide her shame.

  He hesitated, wanting to comfort her, but knowing she would reject him even now. “Emma said ye were ill.”

  She dropped her hands slowly, yet refused to look at him as she sat on the floor, her back to the chair. “I’m fine now. I only wish to see Turin.”

  He hesitated watching her, knowing how hard all this had been on her for he could see it written on her pale features.

  She lifted teary eyes to his face as she held herself tightly somehow trying to brace herself against words she wasn’t sure she could bear hear! “Dear God! Tell me ye have not beaten the boy to death…!”

  “Nay… I shall make sure ye see him before the day is done.”

  “Do not—do not kill him…!” Her voice broke at her words.

  He stood then and walked to the window, his back to her stiffly. “Miranda, we both know why he has come here—but what he came to do is nigh impossible now. Ye cannot leave with him, not with William’s child within ye and with others out there who would do thee harm. Ye must convince Turin to go home without thee. I asked him to go last night, I promised him his freedom, but he said he shall not return without thee. I—I fear for the boy’s life if he does not leave.”

  “Nay! He is not a threat! I swear it!”

  “He is… as long as he shall not go back to his home in peace.”

  “He—he loves me…”

  He sighed. “If he loves ye, he would leave here.” He turned and held her with his dark eyes. “Miranda, if ye cannot convince him to leave… I fear no amount of torture shall change the boys mind short of death…”

  She stood unsteadily at his words and watched him with wary eyes. “Ye—ye can’t mean that… Garrick, please he is but a boy!”

  “If he shall not be reasoned with, he has already doomed himself.”

  “Nay! P—please!” She came forward and took his hands and knelt down before him. “Nay… please… I—I shall convince him to go home… I swear it!”

  He looked at her pale pleading face and clenched his teeth trying not to succumb to the emotions it incited. “Very well. Convince him to return home, for if ye do not it is out of my hands, Miranda.”

  She dropped her head weakly and let her hands fall to her lap as her sobs shook her thin frame where she still knelt before him. He reached down to take her arm, but she moved away. “…J—just leave me…”

  He bit back a curse and took her arm anyway, lifting her to her feet with care. “Nay, I shall not leave thee on the floor like a peasant.” But even as the harsh words left his mouth he knew the damage they had already been done.

  He released her and she turned on him with fire in her teary eyes. “Ye would do well to remember what I am, English! I am a common Welsh peasant, the daughter of a farmer, and an enemy to ye…!”

  He took her arm rougher than he had wanted. “And ye shall do well to hold thy tongue!” Then released her and turned towards the door more angry with himself than with her.

  “Threaten me as ye will, English, but yet my blood remains that of the Welsh and nothing ye nor I shall do can ever change that fact!”

  He didn’t answer her as he walked out knowing he’d just managed to give her more reasons to push him away!

  But all her bravery was for not, for she trembled so badly that she slowly slid into the chair beside her once the door was once again closed…

  Her maid slipped in the room and looked at her with a frown. “Ye still are not well?”

  She shook her head. “I only need a cold cloth for my head.”

  The maid brought it to her without a reply as she went to her bed on trembling legs and covered her eyes with it, then let herself drift off again.

  Garrick’s steps were angry as he walked to the dungeon again. The lad was held in shackles as he had been since his last beating. He stopped not far from the boy and stared at him a long moment before he spoke. “Turin?”

  The lad did not even try to open his swollen eyes. “…English dog.”

  He clenched his teeth to keep his composure in check. “Thy sister is on her sick bed with worry for thee. I cannot allow thee to take the girl from here, surely ye must know that. The Earl did not just take the girl, he is William’s father and he brought her here to protect her and her child… Miranda, herself chose her destiny willingly when she married William and gave him an heir. She is content here, Turin, and she and the child shall be well provided for; I promise thee that. I would that ye be released and go home and be at peace with the matter for her sake if for nothing else.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Even if ye die in this place?”
<
br />   “Then I die saving her.”

  He looked at the mere boy in front of him, whose brave heart matched that of any man. “Do not do this to her, do not make her live knowing that she has cost thee, thy life.”

  “I—I cannot go.”

  He dropped his head and turned from the place again.

  “He shall not be reasoned with?”

  “Nay.”

  “Foolish boy.”

  “Or a brave one.”

  Edmund shot the younger man a concerned look. “I shall not let her go.”

  “I agree. But the boy does not see it that same way we do.”

  “Garrick, I am not strong enough to take care of such things… I leave it in thy hands, but know that I shall not lose the girl, not now, not ever!”

  He nodded and stood up, the weight of it all heavy on his mind. “I have told Miranda that she must convince the boy to go home, I believe she shall.”

  “And if he shall not go.”

  “Then he shall be taken to Claymore and shall live out the rest of his life there hidden from her in the dungeons.”

  “Claymore? It would be best to leave him here, Garrick.”

  “I cannot, in good conscious if I must condemned him, then I shall do so in my dungeons and under my care.”

  “And if she finds out about it?”

  “She won’t, I promise thee.”

  “Then so be it.”

  “Aye, ‘tis cruel, but I can see no other way.”

  When evening came, Miranda was still weak with worry and yet when she heard Garrick’s boots upon the cold stone floor she straightened in the chair and waited for the sound of the keys, and for the door to open, and for him to come in again. She cast her eyes down as he came into the room; he stopped and looked at her shaken appearance with a concerned frown. “Ye still are not well…”

  “Well enough to see my brother.” She stood and swayed lightly on her feet, her hand pressed on the soft sway of her back.

  His voice softened as he watched her. “Nay, Miranda, a day of rest shall not matter much.”