by Fiona Faris
“Were you injured in battle?” she asked between bites.
“Aye, th’ battle of Dunkeld. I was imprisoned for a long time after, the leg was infected. I would’ve lost it had I not escaped the English when I did.” The battle of Dunkeld, imprisoned and escaped. Amelia’s heart began to race. What were the odds that she would come across this particular Highlander, now, in her time of need? She swallowed a hard clump of bread.
“May I ask, kind sir, if you know of someone that I happen to know was also imprisoned after the battle of Dunkeld? Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
The man stopped pacing and approached the cell. “But yer English, how is it ye would ken of a man imprisoned at Dunkeld. Me Da says ye be a witch, perhaps ye are tryin’ tae enchant me?” Amelia groaned. She was already in a cell, surely no worse could come to her for displaying a bit of attitude, but this was the second man in as many days who had accused her of witchcraft. It was rather tedious.
“I’m no witch. My sister is married to the laird of Cadney. I am English, it’s true, but I am no enemy of the Scots, and no enemy of the highlander. I am an ally. I simply wished to know if you were familiar with Gavin MacGille?”
“Gavin MacGille, ye say?” She sensed an easing in the man.
“Yes, He was imprisoned after Dunkeld. He was involved in a failed escape attempt. I’m afraid it was my fault. You see, there was a horse —” she was unable to finish. The man took up the story for her.
“Aye, yes a horse, the beastie got spooked. It was supposed to be easy, but there was a lass in the way… you?”
“Yes, me,” she replied softly, hoping to encourage the man to speak more.
“Och,” he rubbed his temples, and Amelia noticed he had the sandy hair of a younger man than his voice and words indicated. “I’m th’ reason ye were almost killed that day and the reason Gavin was nay able tae escape. It’s been a black mark on me soul these four years.”
Amelia didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
“Ah lass, I was weak ye see. Verra weak, and Gavin, he was my friend. We kent each other since we were lads. He came here a time or two, and I to Cadney. We kent the sassanach were gonna send us tae a work camp, and Gavin, well he kent I wouldnae survive such a place, so he devised the escape, the reason the horse reared was his fault, or so he thought.”
Realization dawned on Amelia. Gavin was supposed to escape that day as well. He was supposed to leave with his friend, this man, but he didn’t. He didn’t leave because the horse had spooked, and she had been in the way. In the wrong place and the wrong time. He risked everything to save her that day. He was recaptured. The four extra years he spent in that gaol, that hell hole, it was because of her.
“May I ask your name?” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Aye, lass, my name is Tristan. Tristan Cabduh. ’Twas me Da that put ye in this hole.” Amelia could see the misery in his eyes, even in the darkness of the dungeon. He didn’t seem anything like his mad father. She certainly understood misery, and this man had shown her more than kindness. He showed her the first true signs of humanity since she had arrived at this godforsaken castle.
“Even with what my Da has done, I have one request of ye, if ye’d be so kind as tae grant it.”
“Of course,” she replied. How could she refuse him after what he had revealed?
“Tell me of me Ma? Did she suffer before God took her home?” The memory of Lady Cabduh and the words she spoke came back in a flood. Should she tell Tristan the truth? They were cousins by blood, she was sure of it, but maybe this was not the time to reveal all. There was still much to uncover. But then again, what more did she have to lose? Someone should know what she was after, just in case. The thought was too devastating to think on, but still, she had to prepare.
“She did suffer, and I’m sorry for it. I tried to make her final hours as comfortable as possible.” She continued to tell Tristan of what his mother said, and their potential relation. He didn’t appear surprised at all when she revealed all about the babe or the MacLeod clan.
He simply nodded, by way of what Amelia thought was thanks, before adding, “I ken what it’s like tae be in a cage, lassie, and I wouldnae wish it upon anyone. I’m sorry for what me Da has done tae ye.”
“Your Da was grieving,” she said. “He’ll see reason, or Gavin and my brother-in-law will come for me and make him see reason.” She wished she was as certain as tried to make her voice sound. Tristan, it seemed, saw right through it.
“That maybe so, but, lassie, ye doona nay have the time tae wait for Lucas or Gavin tae come for ye. My Da plans tae end ye on the morrow.”
“End me?” She couldn’t fathom what Tristan meant.
“Aye, either by hanging or burnin’. That’s why I came down. Even before I ken who ye were, I meant tae show ye how tae escape. Now that I ken yer character and who yer kin are, I’m certain of ye. Even though I owe Gavin me life and would have done anythin’ to repay him, on yer own I ken yer a good lass, yer me cousin, and ye doona deserve what my mad Da has in store for ye. English witch or nay.” She smiled at his attempt at humor, and he smiled back.
Amelia didn’t want to know what it was Laird Cabduh had planned. She knew Tristan was right. She couldn’t wait around to be saved. She had to escape. She knelt as close to the bars as her body would allow and listened to every word Tristan said next. When he was done with his instructions, her mind was made up. It would do no good to wait until the dawn. She had to make her escape as soon as possible.
“God willing, Tristan Cabduh, you and I will cross paths again.”
“Aye, lassie, dinna fash, I ken it will be so,” he said, as he stood up and left her alone in Cabduh dungeon. Amelia was ready.
Chapter Fourteen
A roll of thunder clapped in the distance, and Gavin knew a storm was brewing. He approached what used to be the gates of Cabduh with dismay, wondering what the old laird had done to allow the clan to have fallen so low, and hoping he still had enough of his wits about him to see reason.
“Who goes there?” It was a disembodied voice, seemingly shouting from hell itself, and in the mist, Gavin would have hardly been surprised if it did indeed turn out to be a ghost that met him at the gate. He slid down off his horse, gently soothing the beast who was already over tired from the journey.
“Gavin MacGille, Clan MacGille come from Cadney to speak with th’ Laird!” Gavin called out.
“We’ve a sickness here, ye best turn back!” The voice sounded unsure, and Gavin took that as his opportunity.
“Aye, I’ve been told of yer sickness, and my clan’s healer is a guest here. His lairdship will surely grant me entrance. Ye should be th’ one tae ask?”
The voice gave a snort. “There’s nay healer here, not anymore,” came the response. “I wouldnae want tae be anywhere near his lairdship on this day, but ye may as well come in. Better ye be the one tae incur his wrath than me.” Gavin didn’t waste time trying to figure out what the ghost soldier meant by no healer. He climbed back atop the horse and road into the gates toward the keep.
The inside of Cabduh Keep was in no better condition than the outside. People laid about the great room, oblivious to Gavin, lacking any energy or vigor. The walls were darkened save for a candle or two. Gavin had to cover his mouth and nose to stem the stench.
“Not exactly the grandeur you’d be used tae, aye, milord?” Gavin spun coming face to face with the old laird as he rose from his seat at the main table. “Most of me clan is dead or dying, save for a few hearty stock and myself. The work of the English witch yer brother sent tae me. I should wage a war against him, but I fear he was also bewitched by the woman.”
The dark circles and red-rimmed eyes of Laird Cabduh let Gavin know it would be worthless to argue with him. His only concern now, Amelia.
“My laird, word of the tragedy here has reached Cadney, and my brother, Laird MacGille bade me come here to offer out condolences on the loss of yer lady, as well as to
offer assistance by removing the woman so she may be dealt with.”
The Laird let out a long, choking laugh.
“Ye want tae offer us assistance by removing the lass?” Gavin realized the Laird may be too far gone for reason, and every muscle in his body tightened.
“Aye, Laird, ye mayhap nay be aware but yer son, Tristan, and I have a history of friendship —”
“I ken, I ken, ye helped return me useless bairn tae me. Nay more a man then when I sent him tae battle.” Laird Cabduh interrupted, “I’ve nay use for him anymore than I hae use for ye. Yer witch is gone from here as ye should be!”
“Excuse me my laird, but gone? I doona understand?” What the hell did the man mean, gone? He clenched his fists at his side and moved closer to the main table. If this mad, old fool harmed so much as a hair on Amelia’s head, so help him, Gavin would end the Cabduh clan, here and now.
“SHE’S GONE! GONE! How could ye nay understand, lad?” The old man slumped into his chair again before continuing to ramble. “She was here, and she used her spells and magic tae bewitch me lovely wife, now gone from this world. I hae nothin’. Yer witch took it all, and when my lads find her, she’ll pay. But nay by the MacGilles’ hand, nay, she will die by me own hand.”
The thought of her light being extinguished caused a physical reaction in him. Gavin held his breath and his anger. Over his own dead body would this crazed man kill Amelia, but he had to keep his wits about him. He didn’t know where she was, and if Cabduh’s men reached her first, it would be over. A movement in the corner caught his eye, and Gavin turned, catching sight of a familiar, slight frame. Knowing it could belong to only one man, Tristan.
Tristan peeked around the stone corner and motioned Gavin to keep his hiding place a secret. The Laird had his head in his hands and was not watching anything in the hall. Gavin gave his old friend a discreet nod. What did Tristan know?
Through clenched teeth, Gavin turned and addressed Laird Cabduh carefully. There was only one way he could ensure Amelia’s safety, and that was to — “My laird, I would like to offer ye my services in helping find the witch. Ye’ve no doubt heard word of my skills from yer son, and mayhap others. I will find her and bring her back here to face yer justice.” He barely choked out the words, they felt bitter and poisonous on his tongue. His time imprisoned had taught Gavin how to be duplicitous, but it felt wrong when discussing Amelia. It was necessary to keep her safe, but Gavin still felt the words tear through him.
The Laird looked up, eyeing him with dark suspicion. “I’ve heard of yer talents, lad, but why should I trust ye?”
Gavin approached the table and got as close to the Laird as he could. “My Laird, I’ve no love of the English. I sat, rotting in their gaol for nigh on four years. I was beaten, tortured, and toyed with. Ye’ve my word I’ve no love for an English witch. I’ll find her.” The trick to a good lie was sticking as close to the truth as possible. Gavin knew Amelia wasn’t a witch, he didn’t have to lie about that. And he would find her.
* * *
Gavin took his leave of the Laird, too eager to leave the confining walls of the decrepit keep and into fresher air. Once outside the walls, he gave a whistle, knowing if Tristan was anywhere in earshot, he would come. It was a familiar signal they’d used in the prison in Perth to identify when guards were coming, enabling the prisoners to hide contraband before incurring any punishment.
“Amelia said ye’d come for her.” Gavin turned to see his friend, alive but no better off than he had been in Perth. He pushed away from the envy that threatened at Tristan using Amelia’s Christian name with no title. It was too familiar. He didn’t like it, but he also needed his friend’s help to find her.
“Tristan, ye look like hell, man.”
“Aye, life’s nay easy here, but let’s not waste time speakin’ of this place. Let’s walk, and I’ll tell ye what I ken of the lass.”
Gavin followed Tristan to a far, tree-covered section of the bailey. They sat under the tree, and Gavin watched his friend turn his face toward the misting rain. He understood immediately. Even after all these years, it still felt good to be out of doors.
“Tristan, where is Lady Amelia?”
“Me Da was nay wrong, she is gone,” he answered. Gavin relished his time outside, but he grew impatient.
“Tristian, I need more from you, she’s in danger.” Tristan gave him a look that Gavin could only describe as filled with a pang of deep sadness, more so than their time in gaol, Tristan’s return to his home did not appear to be a pleasant one.
Tristan began to speak, telling him how he had given her the tools and instructions on how to escape. She had disappeared in the middle of the night, like a ghost. Chains and locks left behind against the wall of the stone prison wall of Cabduh, broken as if a strong man had come for her under cover of darkness. Not a single guard recalled anything amiss. Although, Gavin would put good coin on the guards being so far into their cups that a cannon blast wouldn’t have woken them in the night.
He had to admit he was a wee bit impressed by the lass. He’d never ken anyone to escape the Cabduh Dungeon before, least of all a woman. But Amelia was unlike anyone he had ever known.
“Did she tell ye where she intended tae go?” He needed a direction, a hint, anything that would give him a way to head. The Laird’s men already had a full day’s lead. While Gavin didn’t doubt his ability to track and find her first, he didn’t like when the odds were this stacked against him.
“Aye,” Tristan said. “She’s headed north. The babe she seeks is with the MacLeods.”
“Do yer Da’s men ken what she seeks or which way she headed?”
“I doona ken. I tried tae convince them she headed east back tae yer brother’s lands. That was what made the most sense. But I doona ken if they believed me.”
Gavin resisted the urge to shake he man. If he didn’t know if they believed him, he should have tried harder. How could he let Amelia down?
“I ken yer Da doesnae trust my intentions. Nor should he, but I will find the lass. I’ll head north on the second road toward Ullapool. That’s the only way tae get a boat tae MacLeod land. Whether the lass kens it or nay, she will end up there. Let’s hope I find her before yer Da.”
“You care for her, Gavin, I can see it in yer eyes.” As he said the words, Gavin noticed he avoided looking right at him, instead focusing on a slick blade of grass at his feet.
“Aye, she is mine, Tristan. I’ll nay lose her again.”
“Then go, friend, and Godspeed with ye.”
Gavin stood and took Tristan’s hand in his own. He was an odd sort, but Gavin trusted his tale, he knew the man would not steer him wrong.
“Tristan, I thank ye for yer help. Be safe, and if it gets bad, head tae Cadney. Tell Lucas I bade ye go, and he will take ye in.”
“Ahh, I wish I could my friend, but this is me home. These are me people. I must stay, and when the old man finally dies, mayhap I can make it better here.” Tristan nodded solemnly.
“I hope ye can, Tristan. I hope ye can.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Come here, lad!” Tristan winced as his father called him over to his throne in the main hall. Throne was the only word that Tristan could think of to describe the stone monstrosity that his father sat in to lord over the clan. It was tall, hard, and left no room for anyone to doubt that the man who sat in it was their leader. Only Tristan knew better. His father had been too ill to lead their clan for a long time now. He only kept his title because Tristan allowed it, but now he had gone too far.
“Yes, Father?” He despised the sound of acquiescence in his own voice.
“Did ye let th’ witch go on purpose?” Laird Cabduh’s sallow skin hung and dragged on his bones, all but swallowing his face.
“Ye ken I would never go against our clan.” Tristan was tired of waiting for the old man to die, yet he felt helpless. If he hung on much longer, he would drag the rest of the clan down into the mire of madness with him.
“Perhaps nay, but it’s strange that she was able to get out without detection.” He may be mad, but his father wasn’t daft. Tristan would have to avoid him in order to escape being found out, yet how could he have not helped the lass? She was family, she was locked up for nothing more than trying to help. Tristan could no more have left her in that cell that he could have climbed in with her.
“What will you dae?”
“What will I dae? As if ye care, lad. Ye’ve always been a thorn in me side. Now ye want tae ken me plans for the witch? Don’t ye worry about what I will dae? Ye think me frail. Ye think me weak. I’ll show ye; I’m still stronger than ye.” Tristan knew to allow his father to ramble. The longer he spoke, the more likely Tristan would be able to get information from him.
“Ye wait only fer me tae die. Ahhh, ye think I doona ken what ye want, lad? Oh, I ken. I ken ye wait for me corpse to cool just a bit so ye can take me clan and me power as yer own. I willnae allow it! Nay, I have me own plans fer th’ witch. Her and that MacGille lad think they’re smart, but do ye not think I ken where they go? Do ye nay think I didn’t see with me own eyes the way the witch looked like my sweet lady? She’s goin’ after that half-English bairn. She’s headed tae MacLeod.”