Highlander's Rightful Claim (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Kenna Kendrick

  It seemed inevitable that Murdoch had not recognized him, if he had done then surely, Andrew would have already been run through with a sword or hung from the castle battlements. To see his father’s murderer so close had made him angry, anger he had tried to conceal as he looked meekly at his captors. Now was not the time for heroics and Andrew’s only thought was for escape.

  He examined every inch of the cell, but it seemed impregnable. The door was made of thick wood, reinforced with plates of hammered metal, the lock, though old, was sturdy and it seemed as though there would be no escape. He wondered just what Murdoch’s intentions towards him were. He had committed no crime, nor dishonored the Laird’s daughter. He was grateful to Nairne for standing by and defending him, what sweet words she had said. Andrew couldn’t believe that she seemed to feel the same way for him as he did for her and after such a short time.

  He felt exhausted, and despite the hardness of the bed, and the coldness of the cell, he found his eyes closing, and sleep coming over him. It was a restless sleep, punctuated by dreams of his father, and the escape his mother had made from this hideous place. But suddenly it was broken by a gentle tapping on the door, and the whisper of a voice he knew well.

  “Andrew … Andrew,” Nairne hissed, “I have brought ye a little bread from dinner, come tae the door.”

  Andrew sat up, bleary-eyed and still sleepy as Nairne whispered for him to come forward again.

  “Here ye are, take it quickly before the guard comes tae check on ye,” and she pushed a hunk of bread through the bars of the cell door.

  Andrew ate them hungrily, for he had not eaten since leaving the crofts that morning and the terror of his capture and the coldness of the cell made him ravenous. Nairne kept her hand around the bar and Andrew placed his own hand on hers, smiling as best he could through the gloom.

  “It will be alright, Andrew, I promise ye, people never stay down here for long, my father will grow bored of punishing ye in a few days and let ye go.”

  “But doesn’t he want tae question me? He seemed angry at the thought of us being together, and ye know I behave honorably towards ye,” Andrew said.

  “Aye, and I have told him that, dinnae worry, he knows ye are not a Cameron, I have told him as much. Ye come from the forest, and he’ll probably worry that yer mother will put some curse on him or some spirit of the trees will come tae visit him in the night and demand yer release.” Her voice was reassuring and calm, despite the circumstances.

  “I cannot stay here for days, my family will be missing me, and will be hunting all over the forest.”

  “Aye, and that is why I will get ye out, dinnae worry about that. I just need some time tae prepare, my father is already cross with me for meeting with ye, but he knows that we were just swimming, I have not betrayed him tae some Cameron vying for the Lairdship,” she laughed, despite the circumstances.

  “How, though? Ye will be punished tae, I dinnae want ye tae be in trouble on my account, or you could well end up in here.”

  “Then at least we’d be together, no dinnae worry, I’ll see tae it that the captain of the guards gets a comeuppance. He had no business following me this morning intae the forest, he’s a lecherous scoundrel and deserves to feel my father’s wrath tae. I’ll make it so he gets the blame, dinnae worry about that.”

  The sounds of the guards crossing the courtyard above echoed down the stairwell, and Nairne placed both her hands on the cell bars, holding Andrew’s hands to her.

  “Dinnae worry, now, all will be well. Just sit tight and wait for yer rescue,” and with that she was gone, slipping out of the dungeons just as the guard arrived on his patrol.

  “What are ye standing there for, ye wretch, get away from the cell door and back in the corner where ye belong, else there’ll be no food or victuals for ye today,” the guard snarled, as Andrew backed away.

  The young laddie lay back on his cell bed and sighed, how he wished to be free of this awful place. Thankfully his story about being a forest dweller seemed to have been believed, he only hoped that Nairne’s confidence in her abilities was justified, if not he feared he would feel the wrath of Murdoch Mackintosh.

  * * *

  Stewart Mackintosh wasted no time in running back to the croft, the sight of Andrew being led away by Murdoch’s men had terrified him, and he feared that the laddie may well already be dead. If his brother recognized his prisoner, then there was nothing anyone could do to save him. But if by chance, Andrew were able to pass himself off as one of the forest folk, then he may just have a chance.

  As Stewart emerged from the forest, he sprinted across the heathers towards the crofts, where Rhona was tending to the animals.

  “Stewart, whatever is wrong?” she cried, seeing the terrified expression on his face as he caught his breath, bent double from his exertions.

  “It is … it is Andrew … they … they have him,” he panted.

  “Who has him? He was going to visit Cairstine and Alistair, has something happened tae them?” Rhona cried in alarm.

  “He was never going tae visit Cairstine and Alistair, he was going tae meet a lassie, and that lassie is a Mackintosh. They met at a pool far down in the woods, it was all very innocent, they swam together and talked of the things young people do, but Andrew was not the only one being followed today. The lassie was tae, and as I watched four of Murdoch’s men burst upon them and took the laddie captive, and dragged him back tae the castle. I followed as best I could, but I’m no match for them, one man again four, I’d have been captured tae,” Stewart, now having caught his breath looked at Rhona with fear in his eyes.

  Rhona could not take it in, his words seemed too incredible to be true, her son, the bairn she had escaped that wicked place with was now held captive in the castle they once called home. A sudden panic came over her, and she collapsed to the floor, tears running down her face at the thought of Andrew a prisoner to that wicked man.

  “What if Murdoch realizes who he is? He’ll kill him,” Rhona sobbed uncontrollably as Stewart knelt down to hold her tight.

  “He’s sensible enough not to tell him, of that I’m sure, dinnae speculate until we know for certain,” Stewart soothed.

  “That is easy for ye tae say, he is not your son,” Rhona replied angrily.

  “He’s as good as my son, woman,” Stewart raised his voice against his wife, “it is I who have raised him, I’m just as much a father tae him, and I will see tae it that we get him back, on everything I hold dear I swear that, Rhona.”

  “But how can ye possibly hope tae do that? The castle is well defended, Murdoch’s men are everywhere, ye know what will happen, more bloodshed, more tears, more anguish,” she shook her head, the tears still running down her face.

  “We will attack at night, we know the castle, he will be in the dungeons, we’ll watch and wait for the right moment and then spring a trap upon them, dinnae worry, lassie,” Stewart tried to sound far more confident than he felt.

  “Ye will all be killed if ye do that, and then I will be left once more a widow, a widow without a son,” Rhona cried, tearing herself away from Stewart and running into the croft. As her husband stood alone, looking back down towards the glen, his face set in worry for the young laddie who was as much his son as Rhona’s

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘The Woes of a Laddie’

  Andrew passed a restless night in the dungeon of the castle, his dreams were vivid, and broke his sleep, waking him in terror, only for the truth of his situation to be more terrifying as he opened his eyes. Every hour the guards would come to check on him, shouting at him to wake up, or drumming their knuckles on the bars to taunt him, so that by morning he felt as though the night were the longest he had ever endured.

  “Ye are nothing but a wretched worm,” the guard sneered, “the Laird should have folk like ye ran through, it would save on bread and water, and save me the trouble of checking on ye all through the night. I get no sleep either ye know, back and forth back down here ju
st tae see if a worm-like ye is still keeping himself occupied in the dungeon. Ye are pathetic if it was up tae me I would string ye up from the castle wall and let ye hang as warning tae others, but perhaps the Laird is more benevolent than I.”

  “I have done nothing wrong,” Andrew replied, neither looking up or giving the guard the satisfaction of knowing he was terrified.

  “Cavorting with the Laird’s daughter, what did ye think ye were going tae do with her? Make her yer wife?” the guard laughed as Andrew looked up in anger, “oh, now that raises yer hackles a little dinnae it, my laddie?”

  “Leave me alone,” Andrew cried.

  “It is I who decide when ye are left alone and when ye are disturbed, laddie, just ye remember that and now I know just what tae say tae raise yer anger. She’s a bonnie lassie the Laird’s daughter, very bonnie indeed. There are plenty of men in this castle who would happily follow her intae the forest. I am one of them, it seems she is soft on ye though, such a shame her father will have ye seen tae well before romance can blossom, ay laddie?” the guard spat on the dungeon floor as he turned and left Andrew alone, humming to himself as he went.

  Andrew sat dejectedly in the cell, he had not seen Nairne since last night, and he wondered whether she would really be able to do anything to help him escape. Surely the castle was impregnable, though of course his own mother and stepfather had escaped from here all those years ago. He doubted if Murdoch would allow such things to happen and thanked God once again that no one here knew his true identity. The guards words about a grizzly end foremost in his mind.

  * * *

  Since leaving Andrew alone the night before, Nairne Mackintosh had not been idle. She had crept from the dungeons, just as the guard was making his way down from the guard tower above, secreting herself in the courtyard until the coast was clear. There was one entrance into the castle courtyard and another door which led up a spiral staircase to the guard tower, which was attached to the gatehouse. This ensured that both dungeon and castle gate was always guarded, an arrangement designed to make escape impossible. But the door out into the castle courtyard was not regularly checked, any prisoner who escaped that way would have nowhere to go, and find himself at the mercy of the archers above unless he knew the castle layout, and that was a weakness Nairne intended to exploit.

  If she could just get Andrew out into the courtyard during the night they could make for the side gate in the castle gardens, Andrew could be out into the forest in minutes, and safely away to freedom. It all seemed so easy, but of course, in practice, it would be almost impossible. The guards kept a constant vigil, and she spent the whole of the next day observing their patterns of patrol. In the guardroom above the gatehouse and dungeon stairway five men kept a constant watch on rotation, each hour two would patrol the battlements, one would check on prisoners in the dungeon, and the other two would take a look from above the gate, lest any unwelcome visitors should be gathered outside.

  Trouble in the glen was rare, for Murdoch Mackintosh kept an iron grip on his people and any signs of rebellion were quickly quashed. This led his men to assume a lazy disposition, sure of their own authority, and the captain of the guards often had to warn his men to be vigilant for trouble and avoid complacency. Nairne knew she could use this to her advantage and knew that if she could only get a key to the cell door and time their escape just right then no one would suspect her of such treachery. Quite how she would get hold of the key was the tricky part of the whole plan, and over the next few days, she watched and waited for any opportunity which might present itself.

  Her father had always enjoyed drinking, and he kept a well-stocked cellar of whiskies, ales, and even wines, which he sent from Edinburgh at the expense of his estates. Murdoch Mackintosh found consolation in excess, and there were always feasts and banquets held at the castle in honor of this or that, any excuse to celebrate a victory, or glorify himself, was the pretender’s pleasure. Murdoch was keen to show his wealth and power, eager to show that he, and not the young pretender in the hills, was the rightful heir of the glen.

  It just so happened that one of these feasts was due to take place on the evening following Andrew’s imprisonment. A host of guests had been invited, and Murdoch had ordered several barrels of his finest whisky to be brought up from the cellar.

  Nairne and her mother were expected to attend, their presence guaranteeing further adulation for Murdoch in his quest to appear as the rightful Laird over the Cameron castle, not to mention the attraction which the beautiful young lassie held for so many clansmen who delighted in her appearance. The preparations lasted all day, and Murdoch seemed to have forgotten the laddie he was holding prisoner down below. Nairne and her mother were preparing for the feast, but the young lassie’s thoughts were elsewhere, a plan forming in her mind.

  “Stay still, Nairne; otherwise these pins will go intae ye and not yer dress,” her mother scolded as she attempted to fasten her daughter into the outfit sent specially from Edinburgh for the occasion.

  “I detest these feasts, they always end with my father drunk and collapsed in his chair, surrounded by men in equal state who then think it acceptable tae place their hands about my person and pass comment upon me.” Nairne secretly hoped that tonight precisely that would happen for she had now decided upon a plan of action, one she hoped would see Andrew free by the morning.

  She knew that both her father and the captain of the guard kept a set of keys about their person and both were prone to falling into a deep sleep when copious amounts of good scotch had been consumed. Tonight could be her only chance to rescue Andrew from the dungeons and if she could just get hold of one set of keys, then the possibility of freeing him would be hers.

  “And that is when ye and I leave, when yer father is too drunk tae notice,” her mother inserted the last pin into Nairne’s dress and stood back to admire her handiwork, “there ye go, pretty as a picture, now help me with mine and we shall be ready for this fresh endurance.”

  Nairne helped her mother with the dress, and soon, mother and daughter were ready for the feast. Down below in the Great Hall, the guests were gathering, a collection of clansmen and invited noblemen. They came, not because they particularly liked Murdoch Mackintosh, many despised him, but because his hospitality was second to none. They would drink themselves into a stupor and return home the next day satisfied that the night had been one worth remembering, even though the precise details would have been forgotten.

  “Are ye ready, Nairne? Please try tae behave tonight, ye know what yer father will be like if ye give him cheek,” her mother warned.

  “Oh, I shall be a model daughter, dinnae worry mother.”

  The pipers announced their entrance and Nairne and her mother were escorted to the high table where her father and the captain of the guard were already sat, the first drink of the night set before them.

  “Come now lassies, sit yerselves down now, the night is young,” Murdoch was almost mellow, the anger of the day before gone as he indicated spaces to his left and right.

  “Ye are looking very fine tonight, Nairne, very find indeed,” the captain of the guard turned to Nairne with a look of lust in his eyes.

  “Aye, that maybe, but she will never be thine,” Murdoch laughed and raised his glass to the captain who toasted the Laird and threw Nairne another look of longing.

  Nairne turned her head away, but not until she had spied the ring of keys hanging from his belt, the pipers now announcing the arrival of the first dishes of the feast.

  No expense had been spared in preparing food for that evening. Murdoch’s huntsmen had entered the forest and brought back two deer, roasted in the great open fire down below in the kitchens. There were bread and cheeses, sides of salmon from the river, and vegetables from the castle garden. But it was in the quantity and quality of his liquor that Murdoch most excelled. Every table was laden with drinks, and soon the company became merry, singing songs and telling bawdy tales which would make even the most hardened highl
and warrior blush.

  Una and Nairne stayed away from such things, each drinking only enough to satisfy the social requirements of the night. But as her father and captain became ever merrier, Nairne did her best to play the part of dutiful daughter and gracious host.

  “Captain, ye can certainly handle yer liquor, can’t ye?” she smiled warmly as the captain poured his eighth glass of whisky that night.

  “Aye … aye, lassie, aye, it takes a man like I tae do so,” slurring his words he swayed slightly, “ye are a bonnie lassie, Laird ye have a bonnie lassie for a daughter.”

  “I would not have a horse now, would I?” Murdoch now drunken, put his arm around the shoulder of the captain of the guard, “she is bonnie indeed,” and let out a loud belch, the two laughing as they slapped one another on the back.

  “And ye father, ye are not so bad at holding the liquor yerself,” Nairne suggested, her mother giving her a puzzled look, for usually her daughter wanted nothing to do with her father’s debauchery.