Jean turned and sat down as her mother requested. It wouldn’t do to become too anxious. She was superstitious that if she voiced her fears that harm had come to Burns, it would make it true.
Brenda ladled the soup into bowls, setting them on the table.
There was a knock at the door. The two women looked at each other, fear springing in their eyes. They weren’t expecting company.
Brenda rose, and opened it.
Two of the laird’s men stood there.
“We need to come in, Mistress Maxwell,” one of them said.
Brenda widened the door, and they entered.
They dwarfed the space, seeming to fill it with the cold of the evening and their ragged breaths. Jean felt a stab of fear.
“And where is your good husband?” The man who spoke was walking around the room, picking up things and putting them down again. It was deliberate, and disrespectful.
Brenda cleared her throat. “We do not know,” she answered, in a small voice. “He hasn’t returned from the castle this evening. You did not see him on the track?”
The man picked up a clay pitcher, then looked at her. “Now, let’s be honest, Mistress Maxwell.” He turned the pitcher over in his hands. “You know that we haven’t seen him on the track. He has disappeared entirely. Where is he?”
Brenda swallowed nervously. “Sir, I have said, I do not know.”
The man smiled, then turned and threw the pitcher against the wall. It smashed, sending pieces all over the room.
Jean screamed. Her mother ran to her, hugging her. They stared at the men, breathing rapidly.
The other man laughed.
“Mistress Maxwell,” the man said, “I do not believe you. I think you know your husband is a traitor to the laird. You are under his command. We are to take you to the Castle until this matter is resolved. Get your shawls on.”
The two women started crying.
“Please, Sir, you must be mistaken.” Jean found her voice, but it came out shaking from the sobs which were racking her body. “My father is a loyal man to the laird. He would never do anything against him.”
The man came up to her, standing an inch from her face, forcing her to look at him.
“You’re Jean, aren’t you?” he breathed. His breath stank of ale. “The one everyone’s been talking about. Got yourself kitted up for the banquet, hoping to snag the laird’s son.” He laughed, roughly. “We have names for women like you. I won’t say it again. You are both to come with us.”
He grabbed her arm, dragging her to the door. Brenda cried, reaching out for her daughter. The other man grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side.
“No shawls, then.” The man pushed Jean out the door. “We tried to do it nicely, didn’t we, Fergus? But women like these don’t respond to courtesy. Get on the horse!”
The two women were pushed out the door, and it was slammed shut behind them.
The soup sat cooling in the bowls as they rode off into the night.
***
Jean felt bruised all over by the time they rode through the Castle gates.
What was happening? She didn’t understand. One minute, they had been in their warm cottage, about to eat their evening meal and worrying about Burns. The next, these two blaggards had walked in, making outrageous statements about her father and treating them as if they were thieves.
Jean had never been handled so roughly in her life. Her fear felt like a stone sitting in her stomach, heavy and hard.
They pushed the women through the main doors, dragging them to a little room off the main hall.
Inside, Leith Ross was standing by the fire. Jean looked around. There was another figure, sitting in the corner.
Alan, white faced, staring at her with the same fear in his eyes that she felt.
She instinctively went to run to him, and then stopped.
She had to start thinking, and not reacting. Whatever was happening here, it was serious. She, her mother and her father were in grave danger.
And Alan was the laird’s son. On his side, presumably.
He wouldn’t be thinking of her so sweetly now, she’d wager.
Leith Ross stood up. “Sit down, both of you,” he commanded.
Jean and Brenda both sank into seats, staring at each other with wide eyes.
“Mistress Maxwell,” the laird continued. “Perhaps you can enlighten me. Where is your good husband this evening?”
Brenda swallowed. Her face was the color of milk that had spoilt slightly.
“My lord,” she whispered. “I have explained to the men who came and took us from our cottage. We haven’t seen my husband tonight. He did not return after work, the way that he usually does. We were afraid for him. I thought he might have had an accident, and be lying in a ditch on the track somewhere.”
The laird looked at her coldly.
“You are lying,” he stated. “You know what is going on. I will give you one last chance: where is your husband?”
“I beseech you, my Lord, I do not know,” Brenda said. Her hands were shaking on the table.
Leith came up to her, his face twisting in anger.
“How long has he been feeding information to the Gordons?” he spat.
Both women gasped, looking at each other.
“My Lord, my father is your loyal servant,” Jean screamed. “He would never do what you say! Wherever he is, there must be a reasonable explanation. Please, my Lord!”
Leith looked at her, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“I tell you this,” he hissed. “You are both lying. Maxwell has this night fled to the Gordons, under no order of mine or anyone in this castle. The Gordons are sworn enemies of this clan. His actions amount to treason!”
Both women cried, imploring him. But he put a hand in the air to silence them.
“Enough of your lies,” he spat. “You will talk, but maybe you need greater persuasion to do so.”
“Father, no!” Alan was on his feet. “You mustn’t! Even if Maxwell is guilty, these women may be innocent. They might know nothing of what he does. You can’t do it!”
His father turned to him. “I can, and I will.” He turned to the women. “You will both cool your heels at my pleasure, tonight.” He rapped on the door. The two men who had taken them came in.
“Take these two to the dungeon,” he stated. “Maybe a night with the rats and the cobwebs might persuade them to think again about protecting a traitor.”
The two men grabbed Brenda and Jean, dragging them out of the room.
Their screams could be heard echoing down the corridor.
“Father!” Alan was pacing the room. “Maxwell has been a loyal servant to you, for years, as has his family. Please – let me find out what has happened. There might yet be a reasonable explanation. Let me go to the dungeon and speak with them, before you pass sentence.”
Leith looked at his son, witheringly.
“Lad,” he stated. “It’s about time you started thinking with your head, as opposed to another body part.”
Alan gasped.
“Do you think I don’t know? That you’ve been panting after that lassie like a mutt after a bitch on heat?”
“Don’t speak of her like that!” A vein throbbed in Alan’s temple. He could feel his hands balling into fists.
Leith laughed. “You are an innocent, Alan,” he stated. “It’s obvious what that lass has been angling for. Anyone with half a brain can see it! You are all afire for her, now, but fires cool, ye ken? It doesn’t last forever. You are making a fool of yourself, and your betrothed.”
Alan reddened. “I won’t speak of it,” he stated. “And besides, it has nothing to do with what is happening now. Aye, I like Jean, I won’t deny it. I think her and her mother know nothing of what is going on. I am even convinced that Maxwell is innocent, too. Just let me prove it.”
Leith took a deep breath.
“You can go and talk with them,” he said eventually. “Maybe a lighter touch might loosen
their tongues. It is worth a try.” He strode out of the room.
Alan tried to catch his breath. His hands were shaking in fury.
To have his father treat Jean and her mother like common criminals. It was too much. She had been quaking in fear. His heart bled at seeing her so unjustly treated.
But the fact remained: where was Maxwell? Why had he ridden off into the night, supposedly to the Gordons?
He strode to the door.
If Jean or her mother knew, they had to be persuaded to talk.
He mightn’t be able to save the father, but he was determined to save her.
Chapter Fourteen
He saw her before she saw him.
She was in a corner of the dungeon, her mother by her side. Both women were huddled together, their arms around each other. Her mother was stroking her hair, looking off into the distance with a stricken expression on her face.
Dear God. This was barbaric.
He took a deep breath, and then walked into the dungeon.
The women jumped, turning to him with frightened eyes.
“Please,” he said, approaching them as he would a skittish colt. “I mean you no harm.”
They both looked at him, warily.
He crouched down at their sides, feeling useless. It was as cold as a cave when it snowed in here. Icicles dripped from the ceiling, creating pools of water on the floor. He could see the growth of mold everywhere.
“Did they not even give you blankets?” He looked around, angrily.
Brenda sat up, staring at him. “Did you really think they would?”
Jean was looking at him, imploringly, but she said nothing.
“I am here to help,” he stated. “I know that you are innocent. But you must talk to me. I have to find out where Maxwell went.”
Brenda laughed, but it came out sounding like a sob.
“Why should you help us?” she spat. “You have all decided something, and nothing we say will shake your conviction! We have already told you we do not know where Burns is. Why won’t you believe us?”
“I do believe you,” Alan said. He frowned, thinking.
“Did he say anything to either of you today about what his movements would be?”
Brenda snorted. “Nothing. It was a day like any other. He got up, went to work. I saw him around lunch time, taking some horses out of the stables. I expected him home when he finished for the day.”
“He didn’t speak of anything with you, Jean?” He looked at her, pale and shivering in the cold.
Jean roused, looking up at him with her huge grey eyes. “I barely spoke with him today. I was so busy in the kitchen that I barely had time to eat. Sometimes I visit him in the stables when I get a chance, but I couldn’t today.” She stared at him. “I don’t know where he is, Alan. But I know my father. A better man never walked this earth. He would never betray the laird – I swear it on my life!”
Alan could hear the conviction in her voice. He ached to hold her, but he knew it wasn’t the time, or the place. Her mother would be shocked. And there were more urgent things to think about.
Like proving her father’s innocence, and freeing her from this nightmare.
“Alright.” He stood up. “I am convinced you both know nothing about Maxwell’s movements tonight. I shall speak to my father. Hopefully, I can get you both released soon.”
“Oh, Alan, can you try?” Jean’s voice was small. She blinked back tears.
“Keep heart.” He looked at them both a while longer.
Then he walked to the door, rapping on it for the guard to let him out.
He couldn’t look back at them; it would break his heart anew, to see how pitiful they were.
***
Alan found his father in his den. He hadn’t retired for the night, then. There was still hope he could secure Jean and her mother’s release, and escort them back to their cottage.
“Father.” He stood at the doorway. “May I speak with you?”
Leith ran a hand over his face. He looked tired.
“Well, then,” he said. “Come in.”
Alan entered. “Father, I have spoken to the women,” he said. “They both know nothing of where Maxwell has gone, or why. I believe them. Can you release them, at least until we have a better understanding of what is going on? People will talk. They will not look well on us, throwing a mother and daughter in the dungeon on supposition of their knowledge of Maxwell’s plans.”
Leith looked at him, hard. “Not yet,” he said.
At that moment, the men who had been sent to find Maxwell entered the room. They looked tired after a long ride.
“Well, talk!” Leith looked at them impatiently.
“It is as you feared, Laird,” said one. “We rode to the Clan Gordon. The farrier has been taken in by them.”
“I knew it!” Leith smashed a fist on his desk, shaking it.
“That is it, then. I order that the man be beheaded for treason.”
Alan blanched. “Father, no, please reflect…”
Leith looked at him. “It is too late,” he said. “The family is doomed.”
***
Janet hid behind a pillar, watching Alan walk out of his father’s den with a face as white as death.
She smiled to herself. It was playing out exactly as she had anticipated.
The farrier had taken the bait, riding to the Gordons like being led on a string. The girl and her mother had been thrown into the dungeon, and would probably be banished once the father was beheaded for treason.
It had all been so easy, like moving pieces on a chess board.
She watched Alan, struggling to contain his composure. She had to stifle a laugh. Bent out of shape by a peasant girl! Didn’t he have any pride? Couldn’t he see that he was making a fool of himself, begging for mercy on her behalf?
Janet touched her expensive necklace, feeling the coldness of the jewels. It was an old necklace, and she was sick of it.
She would demand another, as payment for the suffering she had to endure at the hands of Alan, dallying like a lovesick puppy with his harlot. Emeralds, perhaps? Or rubies?
She deserved it, after all.
Chapter Fifteen
The guards came at first light, slopping gruel into bowls for their breakfast.
Jean couldn’t eat, anyway. She pushed it away. Her mother frowned at her.
“Jean, you have to keep your strength up.” Brenda took her daughter’s hand. “It won’t do your father any good, if you waste away from worry.”
Suddenly, the guards returned.
“Finish up. We’re to take you to the laird.”
Jean and Brenda looked at each other, fearfully. Was it good news, or bad?
They squinted as the light hit them on the narrow stairwell, blinking rapidly. They had already become accustomed to the dim light of the dungeon.
They were led into the laird’s den. He was standing beside the fireplace, warming himself.
“Sit down, both of you.” He indicated the chairs.
“We know Maxwell’s movements last night.” He stood in front of them. “He did indeed go to the Clan Gordon, where he is now ensconced, in the heart of enemy territory! I must inform you that the situation is very grave, indeed. I have ordered that he is to be beheaded, for treason.”
“No!” Jean sprang up, rushing to the laird. She fell at his feet, wrapping her arms around his legs, looking up at him pleadingly.
“Mercy, laird! Have mercy!”
He looked down at her. “Get up, girl,” he said, coldly. He turned to Brenda. “Mistress, please take your daughter in hand.”
Brenda rushed to her daughter, pulling her up. Her face was ashen.
“My decision is made. The evidence is irrefutable. Maxwell had no reason to flee to the Gordons; no one commanded it. He left of his own accord, and there can be only one reason for it: he was feeding them information about our movements.” Leith’s voice was hard.
“Please, laird,” Jean was wee
ping. “I will take his punishment.”
“Jean!” Her mother looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Say not another word, daughter! Your father would not want it. If he is guilty or innocent, I can no longer say anymore. But I know this: he loves you, and would never send you to die in his place!”
Jean collapsed in her mother’s arms, weeping copiously.
“What are we to do?” Brenda whispered, stroking her daughter’s hair.
“You may return to your cottage,” the laird continued, “where you will start packing. As of this moment, you are both banished from my lands, as befits the family of a traitor.”
The women clung to each other, tighter. Would this nightmare ever end?
At that moment, Alan walked through the door, stopping abruptly when he saw the scene in front of him.
“What’s going on?” His voice was tremulous with fear.
“I have just been informing Mistress Maxwell and her daughter that they are banished from the Ross lands,” his father said. “They can think themselves lucky. Lairds from other clans would hang them alongside the traitor, as an example to all.”
“Father!” Alan tried to think quickly. How could he salvage the situation?
If Maxwell was a traitor, he deserved everything he got. Alan was loyal to his clan and would always put their interest before his own.
But he loved Jean. He couldn’t see her banished, just because of the actions of her father.
He felt torn, unable to decide what was the best way forward. Then an idea came to him.
“Father,” he said, still formulating his idea as he spoke, “I have a proposition.”
“Aye?” His father had sat back down at his desk. He looked distracted.
“What if I bring back the head of the laird, Adie Drummond?”
His father looked at him. “Continue.”
“I will lead a party of men and ambush the Gordons,” Alan said. “I will take the laird’s head, and bring it back to you, if you will promise to revoke the order to behead Maxwell.”
“You want to fight on his behalf?” Leith looked at Alan in amazement.
“I do.” Alan dropped in front of his father, bowing his head. “This is my pledge: I shall bring his head to you, and Maxwell shall keep his.”
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