by Victoria Zak
Voices from outside the solar brought Effie’s attention to the door. Aye, a man’s voice, it was certain. Effie walked to the solar door and placed her ear to it. Two men were talking, but about what she couldn’t quite make out. Their tone was low and their footsteps were heavy. As she listened intently at the door, her body stiffened as one of the voices came clear. Tavish? Of course it was him. How could she not recognize that deep, sinister baritone of his? For the longest time and even now when old wounds would resurface, she could hear him haunting her sleep, calling her a whore.
Quickly she wondered where she could hide. Taking in all the obvious places to disappear, she made a hasty decision and scurried behind the huge wooden desk and pleaded for the men to walk on by.
~~~~~
“Me sister looked verra bonny this morn, what say ye?” Tavish walled with pride, as he and Sir Henry made their way down the empty corridor to his father’s solar.
“Indeed, Tavish.”
Tavish could sense the tension swirling around them. Sir Henry didn’t fully trust him yet, but he would make sure before long that Henry had an ally here in Dumfries.
“Does me plan not fare ye well?” Tavish questioned.
“Your plan had better work,” Sir Henry demanded with his deep English timbre.
“Aye, I have me sister under control.”
“Need I remind you of our agreement? I’ve ceased my attack on the north tower and allowed your filthy Scotsmen to stay here at Caerlaverock.” Sir Henry paused. “A fool I must be. You know what I want in return for the mercy I’ve showed your people.”
Tavish stopped short just outside the solar. He placed a firm hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Nay, my lord I need no reminding. Rest assured ye will receive yer wish.”
Henry looked down at the hand that squeezed his shoulder with disgust as if the mere thought of a Scotsmen touching him made him sick. Shrugging out of Tavish’s grip, the knight continued walking with an authoritative stride.
Quickly trying to redeem himself, Tavish asked, “Shall we discuss our further plans over a dram?” He opened the door to the solar and motioned for Henry to step in.
In shock at the mention of her name, Effie bumped her head on the desk from underneath. Oh for the love of saints! She closed her eyes trying to force back a cry of pain. How could she have been so stupid? But then again she wasn’t expecting Tavish and Henry to be talking about her.
She opened her eyes and her heart began to thump against her breast bone. Tavish’s boots were in plain sight as he walked over to the desk. Panic-stricken, she realized that she had to come up with a plan and fast, for if her brother caught her, he would beat her senseless. Looking down at her clenched hands, she felt the ring that Conall had given her bite into her palm.
Swiftly, she removed the ring and gathered all the confidence she could muster up before she made herself noticed, for facing Tavish was like meeting the devil himself.
“Och, there ye are,” Effie announced and stood up from under the desk with the ring in her hand. “Oh!” she cried out in shock as she looked at Tavish and then to Sir Henry. “What are ye up to sneaking up on a lass like that?” With a surprised look on her face, Effie placed her hand on her chest as if she was startled. “I thought to be alone.”
“Please pardon our intrusion, mistress.” Sir Henry nodded.
Tavish was silent for a moment, not sure what to believe. “What are ye doing in here, Effie?”
“I wanted to find a book to read and that’s when me ring slipped off my finger and rolled under the desk. I am lucky to have found it.” Effie was playing her part well and thought just maybe she would escape this situation without a beating.
“Aye, I see. Well, since ye’re here we have some business to attend to.” Tavish looked over at Henry and nodded his head.
By the way the two men glanced at each other, Effie knew they were up to mischief and prayed it had nothing to do with her. “Well then I’ll leave ye to yer business. ’Tis nice to see ye again, Sir Henry.” Effie grabbed a book and began to make her exit when Tavish stopped her.
“Don’t scamper off quite yet, sister. This business concerns ye.”
“Well, I dinnae understand why. After father’s funeral I’ll be heading back...”
Effie stopped and realization hit her like a stone to the head; she couldn’t go back home. If the rumors were true, clan Douglas would not welcome her back.
Tavish paced in front of the hearth with his hand behind his back while Effie stood in front of him motionless. “See Effie, dear sister, once our father is laid to rest, I will be appointed clan chief. And as acting chief me first call of duty is to arrange yer betrothal.”
Effie took a step back and her heart raced.
“Ye see, I believe it would suit clan Maxwell verra well to be in good favor with King Edward. Ye will marry Sir Henry of Lancaster to ensure our loyalty to England.”
Before she could stop herself she blurted out, “Nay, I willnae do it.”
Tavish advanced on Effie so quickly she didn’t have time to move away. His hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed. “Are ye defying yer chief’s orders?”
Effie shook her head no, for she couldn’t speak.
“I know all aboot yer dragon down in the dungeon,” he seethed into her ear. “He will be found guilty of murder and will be punished for his crime. Do ye understand me?”
Effie frantically grabbed at his hands trying to free herself but it was no use. Her face was turning redder by the second.
“Ye will do as I say or yer precious dragon will fall to the same fate as William.” Tavish stared deep into her eyes, telling her that what she’d feared had truly happened to William; he had murdered him. Effie could feel her body grow weightless as he squeezed harder.
Sir Henry had stood by long enough. Aye, he was a killing beast of a knight but one thing he wouldn’t stand for was a man using his hand on a woman. Henry strode up to Tavish and shoved him away from Effie. She fell to the floor, gasping for air.
Henry grabbed Tavish by the front of his tunic and shoved him up against the wall. “A true man shouldn’t have to lay his hand upon a woman. Heed my words and hear them well, do not lay another hand on your sister again. She’s mine now and I will not have her damaged.” The cold dark stare from Henry was enough to make any man wet himself.
Henry released Tavish and began to straighten out the man’s rumpled tunic. Tavish tucked his tunic into his plaid and retreated from the solar but couldn’t resist one last scowl in Effie’s direction before he left.
Sir Henry bent down in front of Effie. “He won’t touch you again, I assure you.”
Still gasping for air Effie placed her hand on her throat and looked up into the knight’s light brown eyes, and whispered, “Thank ye.”
Sir Henry cast her one of his handsome grins and helped her up off the floor. “We shall marry soon. I have some business to take care of and will need to return to Northumberland.”
Her throat burned but she began to protest. “I... will no’ go, nor marry ye.”
Henry smirked and slightly chuckled as he marveled at the boldness and beauty of the redhead looking up at him. He bent and looked down at her. Taking her head in his hands, he forcefully craned her head back so she had to look up at him. “Mistress, you’ll find that I’m a tolerant man, for the most part.” He stroked her freckled cheek with his thumb. “But I must warn you, when I set my eyes on something I want,” he looked her up and down, “I will not be denied.”
Effie swallowed hard as she felt the dominance of his authority radiate off of him. He most definitely was a powerful noble knight and it would behoove her to obey his orders, yet this was her life and she would not be told who to marry.
“Yer an English high born, why would ye want to marry a Scottish lass?”
“You see, my poppet, I have conquered castle after castle throughout Scotland and have always walked away victorious, yet no matter how many I have seized, the desir
e for more consumes me.” Henry strode back to the corner table and poured himself another dram. “It’s not until now that I have realized that it’s not the castles, nor the riches that I desire. I desire to conquer a Scottish lass.”
Effie’s brows furrowed in disbelief. Did she actually hear him right? He only wanted to marry her in order to fulfill some arrogant quest. She fought down the bile rising in her throat as she stood dumbfounded. “Now, I suggest you get some rest and join me for the evening meal.” Henry escorted her out of the solar and helped her to her bedchamber.
Effie’s world kept spinning. Emotionally she was drawn taut. In less than two days she had found out her father had been murdered by the man she loved and now she was to wed an English man and leave Scotland, her home. Nay, this had to be a nightmare, but when was she going to awaken?
Chapter 9
The great hall of clan Maxwell buzzed with constant chatter as several hundred clansmen sat side by side along long wooden tables filled with the night’s feast of lamb, fish, and an array of vegetables. Sir Henry and a few of his elite men resided at the head table in front of the great hall overlooking the clan folk. They were surly, but on their best behavior. The gathering had begun.
Sitting directly at the head of the table, Tavish grinned and ate his full, proud of this day’s accomplishments. Plans seemed to be going along well. Soon, very soon, he would be clan chief and his sister would marry into one of England’s wealthiest families. Not only would he gain a powerful ally; he would be rid of Effie and secure his future as chief. Dastardly deeds came with a hefty reward.
Next to Sir Henry, Effie sat picking at her meal. Earlier it had been a difficult task for her and Maggie, trying to find a wide enough ribbon to hide the bruised marks that marred her neck. It was almost impossible. But as luck would have it, they found a dark forest-green ribbon that matched her gown perfectly. Added to that, the fact that she wore her hair down helped hide the marks even more.
As she moved the carrots around her trencher, she was lost in thought about yesterday’s events. Most of the night had passed by with visions of how she was going to get herself out of this mess. Running away had been a short-lived plan. With the power that Henry and now her brother held, she would have been caught in no time. Moreover, with the uncertainty of her welcome if she returned to Clan Douglas, it seemed as though she was stuck here.
Effie huffed in defeat as her eyes stayed focused down on the escaping vegetable. The longer she stayed here the more she could feel herself slipping back into that scared defenseless little girl she’d been years ago. This place most definitely was destined to be the cause of her death if she didn’t do something to change her fate.
Sir Henry noticed Effie’s behavior. “’Tis rude to pick at your food,” he said as he wiped his mouth on a white linen cloth.
It was apparent that her table manners were not to his liking. She met his scrutinizing glare. “Please forgive me, my laird.” She bit into the carrot spitefully.
Leaning in close to her so only she could hear him he replied, “Spirited are we? I like that in a woman.” He slipped his hand under the table and placed it on Effie’s thigh. “I will only warn you once, when we’re in public you will be a proper wife of a noble knight. Do you understand me?” He squeezed her leg as Effie nodded her head. “For you will not like the repercussions of your disobedience.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. “I beg of you to not test my patience.”
Effie grabbed her goblet of wine and drank swiftly, pushing the vegetable down her throat. Was there a way to escape this nightmare? There had to be a way out, she thought.
The clanking sound of silver cups brought the room to silence as Tavish stood. “As ye all know by now, Sir Herbert Maxwell, my father has entered through Heaven’s gates. May his soul rest in peace.” As if on cue, every man, woman, and child bowed their heads and repeated, “Rest in peace.” Tavish continued his speech. “As his only son, I have inherited the seat of chief of clan Maxwell. Once the charter has been recorded and signed, I will be your chief.” The great hall stood silent. Not the warm welcome Tavish had wanted. Clearing his throat as he looked at Effie he announced, “On a lighter note I’m proud to announce that me sister, Effie, will marry Sir Henry of Lancaster bringing our two houses together and under English rule.”
From the back of the great hall a man stood and called out, “What will be done to the men who attacked our tower and murdered our chief? I believe I speak on behalf of all clansmen. Justice should be served.”
“No one wants justice as much as I do,” Tavish lied. “The man who murdered me father lies in the dungeon and awaits his punishment.”
The man spoke up again. “But why wait? Let the bastart pay.” The room erupted with their approval.
Tavish glanced at Sir Henry and Henry nodded his support. Wanting to be in the clan’s good favor, Tavish seized the moment. “So the clan has spoken, aye?” A symphony of ayes echoed throughout the hall. “A public flogging, aye?”
The man turned behind him as if asking the clan mockingly. “Flogging?” The crowd grumbled. “Nay.” The man stood firm and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Trial by combat!” Tavish yelled out as he held his goblet high and the room exploded with cheers and the Maxwell war cry. There was nothing more worthy of approval to the Highlanders as announcing there was going to be a bloody brawl. They breathed to fight; it was in their blood.
Sir Henry stood and cleared his throat and the room fell silent once more. “It shall be my honor to champion and fight against the accused. I will avenge my soon to be wife’s father.” He looked down at Effie and smiled.
Effie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Torn between seeking justice for her father and believing that the man she loved had killed him, she didn’t know what to do. If in fact Conall had killed her father, he still deserved a fair trial and to plead his case. This was not justice, this was a lynching.
As the crowd cheered over drams of whiskey and danced to the tin whistle, Effie excused herself and made her way to Tavish. She had to talk some sense into him. “Tavish, may I have a word with ye?”
“Oh, aye, what be on yer mind?” The smugness of his smirk was enough to make Effie’s stomach turn.
“I do no’ believe ’tis fair to not have a trial for the accused.”
Tavish’s smirk turned grim as he glared at her. “Dinnae ye want the man who killed father to pay for what he has done to our family?”
Effie glanced down at the floor, afraid to speak her mind. “If in fact the man is found guilty by a fair trial, aye.”
Tavish grabbed her arm and pulled her into him. “I be the chief and what I say will be obeyed. Now, excuse me.” Tavish walked away to bask in the approval of his fellow clansmen.
Being that she was a fighter at heart it sickened her how quickly her brother could weaken her. Growing more irritated with herself, more so being here watching these people celebrate over injustice, she needed fresh air. Quickly, she exited the great hall, leaving Sir Henry with the excuse of a headache for her early departure.
Once outside, Effie walked and walked and walked some more. She walked through the courtyard to the gatehouse and kept on moving over the bridge until she found herself at her father’s and mother’s gravesites right below the old rowan tree. The tree was full of power, its trunk black and twisted. It protected the dead.
Effie fell to her knees and began to cry. She grabbed a handful of freshly disturbed dirt, for it had been only a few hours since she had laid her father to rest. In fact the earth was still warm.
Both of her parents lay before her underground. Never had she felt so alone and hollow inside. Everyone she loved, she had lost.
She smiled as she remembered a time when she was a wee child. Often when scared she would sneak into her parents’ bedchamber as they slept at night. She would climb into their bed and snuggle between them, flanked by love and safe from the things that go bump in the night. Oh how she wished she
could do that now.
Sobbing, Effie lay down between their long rectangular gravestones that had been laid on top of the ground. She rested her cheek on the cold slab marking her father’s grave. Pulling her cloak tighter against her body, she said, “Da, please forgive me for leaving the way I did. I wish I could have stayed.”
“Och, lass, yer da was verra proud of ye.”
Effie looked up and shot up from the ground. “Oh Neil!” Effie cried and raced toward the Highlander with her arms wide open. Finally a familiar face she could find comfort in. Wrapping her arms around Neil, she let go of everything tormenting her. “Thank God that ye’re here.”
“Sweet lass, I’m sorry about yer father. I should have told ye sooner.” Neil folded his arms around her. She broke into a million pieces as her world came crashing down and spun her out of control.
“Neil, ’tis no’ fair.”
“I know. Yer father was a good man. He left us too early.” Neil looked down at the graves.
“Aye.”
For a moment Effie allowed herself to let go of the pain of losing her father, the pain of being back home, and the pain of knowing there was nothing she could do to help Conall. Even if he was guilty he deserved a fair trial.
“Tavish is out of control. He’s going to kill that man in the dungeon for murdering me father. He deserves a fair trial, no?” She began to sob, for saying the words out loud made it all too real.
“Effie, that man did no’ kill yer father.”
Sniffling, Effie took a step back, confused as to what she had just heard. “What do ye mean?”
“The English garrison led by Sir Henry attacked the north tower. Tavish convinced everyone that clan Douglas was behind the attack and those of us who asked questions...well.” Neil looked away and Effie understood what he was saying. No commander as loyal as Neil was to her father would surrender to a tyrant, unless the consequences were deadly to his men-at-arms.
“So, he’s innocent?”
