The Tower of Ravens

by Kate Forsyth

‘He has no’ the power to stop me,’ Iven replied. ‘Come, let us take her back to the castle. We shall ride for Lucescere immediately!’

  Lewen saw how all the castle men bit their lips and muttered among themselves, but they did not try to interfere as Iven lifted Rhiannon and trussed her to the broad back of the grey carthorse. Rafferty bent and picked up Rhiannon’s saddlebags, and her bow and arrows. She had not even had time to try to defend herself.

  Silently they made their way back to the castle, Durward striding ahead and looking very grim. All the men were muddy and dishevelled, and Cameron, who sported a nasty black eye, was limping painfully.

  ‘Is she badly hurt?’ Nina asked quietly, coming to Iven’s stirrup and looking up into his set face as they rode back through the gate.

  ‘I do no’ ken,’ he said. ‘She would be dead if it was no’ for Lewen. The laird’s gillie tried to shoot her down.’

  Nina’s gaze flew to Lewen’s face and then to the gillie’s. ‘I’m glad ye got there in time,’ she said to Lewen.

  Iven dismounted with a sigh and drew Nina to him and kissed her hair. ‘She’s unconscious. I’d say she’ll be out for some time, leannan. Will ye help me put her to bed in the caravan? We’ll have to shackle her to the bunk, I dinna want to risk her escaping.’

  Nina nodded and beckoned to Cameron and Rafferty to help carry the unconscious girl to the caravans. Lewen watched as the two boys carried Rhiannon’s limp form up the steps and into the red caravan, Nina following close behind. He felt powerless to move. It was as if all the will and desire in his body had been drained away, and he was left just a husk of man, unable to even lift a finger.

  The stableyard was crowded with people. Landon, Maisie and Fèlice looked shocked and unhappy, while Edithe looked very smug and self-righteous. Lord Malvern had been congratulating his men and hearing their account of the capture, which made Lewen grind his jaws together and clench his fists. Now the lord turned back to Iven, saying affably, ‘Well, now your miscreant is caught and the road is clear, ye will no doubt wish to be on your way. I’ve arranged for the kitchens to pack up some supplies for ye, including for some bottles of Dedrie’s elderflower wine, which I believe was very popular with your young folk. I do hope ye have enjoyed your stay with us.’

  ‘Ye have been most hospitable, thank ye,’ Iven answered. ‘We are indeed eager to be on our way.’

  ‘So I understand.’

  ‘I thank ye again for your hospitality and your help,’ Iven said rather shortly. ‘If ye would be so kind as to arrange for all our luggage to be brought down?’

  ‘O’ course,’ Lord Malvern answered, waving one hand at Irving, who was as always hovering in the background. Irving bowed and went silently away.

  ‘I’m sure ye willna mind if I pack up my own belongings?’ Nina said, coming down the caravan steps and shutting the door behind her. ‘I do like to make sure I have everything in place. Lewen, happen ye could accompany me, while the other lads get the horses ready?’

  ‘Shannley, Jem, ye will o’ course assist?’

  ‘O’ course, my laird,’ the old groom said with an obsequious bob of his head.

  ‘Cameron, ye stay here and guard the prisoner,’ Iven said. ‘Maisie, my dear, happen ye had best go and lie down, ye are looking very pale.’

  ‘I dinna want to go in there with her.’ Maisie shrank back.

  ‘She’ll sleep a while yet,’ Iven said wearily, ‘and even when she wakes, she’s tightly secured. She canna hurt ye.’

  ‘Still,’ Maisie said.

  ‘Very well, ye may rest in our caravan, if ye like. I do no’ want ye trying to ride yet.’

  Maisie nodded and limped over to the blue caravan and hauled herself up the stairs with great difficulty. The door shut behind her.

  Lord Malvern smiled and inclined his head, and Nina gathered up her skirts and followed him. Just as she passed through the doorway, she turned her head and said sternly, ‘Roden, stay with your dai-dein, do ye hear? No more running off!’

  ‘Aye, Mam,’ Roden answered in long-suffering tones and, hand-in-hand with Lulu, he dawdled along behind his father.

  Nina was obviously eager to cross-examine Lewen but she could not speak because Lord Malvern had turned to them and asked them a polite question about their plans. As Nina answered, just as politely, they came up the side of the central garden and Lewen saw Lady Evaline sitting under the apple tree. She looked at him and raised one lace-mittened hand to beckon him. Reluctantly Lewen approached her, the scent of sun-warmed lavender rising around him.

  ‘Ye are all leaving now?’ Lady Evaline asked wistfully.

  ‘Aye, the road is clear and we must be on our way.’

  ‘The laddie too?’

  ‘Aye, o’ course Roden is coming too,’ Lewen said.

  ‘Aye, best get him away quickly,’ she said. ‘Too many ghosts here already.’

  ‘Aye,’ Lewen agreed, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘Such a bonny lad he is,’ she said sadly. ‘Such a shame.’

  ‘What’s such a shame?’ Lewen asked, confused and unnerved by this peculiar old lady with her crumpled, vacant face.

  ‘That he must die,’ she answered. ‘They all die, ye ken.’

  ‘Do ye mean, everyone? Everyone must die?’

  ‘Aye, everyone must die in the end,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I hope they let me rest when I die.’

  ‘Evaline!’ Lord Malvern called. ‘Ye must no’ keep the young man gossiping. Lady Nina wishes to be away.’

  ‘Away,’ Lady Evaline murmured. ‘I wish I could be away also.’

  ‘Why do ye no’ go then?’ Lewen asked, his sympathy stirred.

  She raised her soft eyes to his. ‘Where would I go?’ she asked simply. ‘At least here I have my ghosts.’

  ‘Evaline!’ Lord Malvern called impatiently.

  She patted Lewen’s cheek. ‘Goodbye, lad. Have a care for yourself.’

  ‘And ye yourself,’ he answered and broke away so he could rejoin Nina and Lord Malvern by the steps. He felt shaken and unnerved by his conversation with the old lady. She was indeed quite mad, he thought.

  ‘I must apologise for my sister-in-law,’ Lord Malvern said, smiling. ‘She is very auld now, and quite vague.’

  Lewen nodded, smiling perfunctorily. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to be away from this cold, vast pile of stones and out in the fresh, clean air. It took a strong effort of will for him to force himself to follow Nina up the stairs and into its front hall, and he glanced over his shoulder as he went in, for a last glimpse of sunlit green. He thought he understood why Lady Evaline spent so much time sitting under the apple tree.

  It did not take long to pack up all their belongings and help the footmen carry them out to the gatehouse. All the horses had been saddled and bridled, and were eager to be off. Irving had supervised the loading of sacks and barrels of fresh supplies, and Dedrie had come down to say farewell to her patients. She looked pale and tired, and did not have her usual brisk manner as she pressed a basket of herbal remedies upon Nina, as well as a fresh tussie-mussie of lavender and herbs.

  ‘Lady Evaline picked them for ye,’ she said. ‘She wants … she wishes …’

  ‘Aye?’

  Dedrie cast a quick glance at Lord Malvern, who was chatting with Iven some distance away. ‘She says to have a care for yourselves and for the lad,’ she said then, in a fierce, low voice. ‘Get him away from here, my lady! This place is no good for laddies.’

  Nina opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. ‘Never fear, we are out o’ your hair now,’ she said lightly. ‘Thank ye for your help.’

  ‘I’m glad I could do something to help. Have a good journey now,’ Dedrie said.

  Nina quirked her mouth in sudden ironic amusement. ‘Let us hope it is a quick one,’ she answered, then turned to give her hand to Lord Malvern as she thanked him again. Then the apprentices all mounted, Nina was handed up to the driving seat of the red caravan with Roden beside h
er, and Iven leapt up to the seat of the blue, clicking his tongue at Steady. The massive gates groaned open, and the cavalcade rode out from the shadowy gloom of Fettercairn Castle and into the quick bright windy day.

  ‘They say princes learn no art truly but the art of horsemanship. The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer. He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.’

  Ben Jonson (1573–1637)

  The road went down at a steep angle, so they had to go carefully, Nina and Iven both leaning on their brakes. For quite a long way they were enclosed within high walls, then gradually the wall dropped away and they were able to see down into the lowlands, which spread before them, the river winding away like a broad silver ribbon.

  ‘Look, was that the tree that fell? Isn’t it enormous? No wonder it took so long for ye all to clear the road!’ Fèlice called, pointing down the hillside. An immense oak tree lay tumbled to one side of the road, smashed and broken. They could see where it had fallen through the undergrowth, tearing up bushes and scarring the ground.

  ‘Ye ken, I wronged the laird,’ Rafferty called back. ‘I really had begun to suspect him o’ making up the fallen tree to try to keep us at Fettercairn.’

  ‘Me too!’ Fèlice said.

  ‘What rubbish,’ Edithe said. ‘Ye people have such imaginations. Laird Malvern is far too noble and upright a man to stoop to such a subterfuge. Why on earth would he want to do such a thing?’

  ‘Why indeed?’ Landon said. He was sitting up next to Iven on the seat of the caravan, having no horse to ride.

  ‘Next ye’ll be telling me ye believed all those terrible lies that satyricorn girl made up!’

  ‘I do believe her,’ Landon said defiantly.

  Cameron snorted. ‘Ye would.’

  ‘Well, I believe her too,’ Fèlice said. ‘Even if she did kill that Yeoman, doesna mean she wasna telling the truth about other things.’

  ‘My dear Fèlice, what an innocent ye are,’ Edithe said.

  ‘That’s enough, Edithe,’ Nina said sharply. ‘I think we should leave any discussion o’ Rhiannon’s guilt or innocence to the judges in Lucescere. Let us just concentrate on getting her there safely.’

  Lewen said nothing. He felt very tired.

  They came to a sharp corner, the road doubling back on itself, and now they rode back towards Fettercairn Castle, which loomed high overhead, ravens wheeling above its two grim towers. The vast expanse of white, falling water dominated the view. The shadow of the cliff fell over them, cold fingers of spray stroking their faces and hair. At last the road turned again, the cobblestones dangerously slippery with the damp, and they faced out into the sunlit valley again, feeling an immediate sense of relief. Six more times the road switchbacked, and then they came down a long, low decline that led them gradually out into rolling meadows where goats grazed by the river. They were able to quicken their pace until the great brooding cliff was lost to sight behind them, and on all sides there were only open pastures, small copses of trees and tilled fields, with the broad river winding through the middle. The air smelt sweetly of apple blossom.

  Rhiannon woke during the afternoon. Lewen had been riding close to the red caravan, straining his ears for any sound from her, but for hours everything had remained quiet. Then he heard a cry of pain and alarm, then a sudden banging noise, and knew she had woken. Nina heard it too, and compressed her lips. Lewen made a move as if to go to her, and Nina shook her head at him sternly. For a while, they listened as Rhiannon fought to free herself, then Nina handed the reins to Landon and swung round to the steps, opening the door and going inside. Riding as close as he could, Lewen could hear nothing more than a rising and falling murmur of voices. Argent sensed his unhappiness and danced restively, but Lewen hardly noticed. After a few minutes Nina came out again, her face expressionless, and swung herself back to the driving seat. Everything was quiet.

  The sun was getting low in the sky when Argent suddenly pricked his ears forward, whickering loudly. Lewen was roused from his miserable abstraction to look about him. He felt a sudden jolt of excitement as he saw a familiar black winged shape flying behind them, keeping close to the dark line of the woods. At once he glanced about but no-one else had noticed. After that he saw Blackthorn often, though the winged mare was taking care to keep herself hidden. It cheered him immensely, knowing Blackthorn had not abandoned her rider, and he wished he could let Rhiannon know.

  They soon came to a village, and Nina and Iven decided to make camp for the night near the safety of its lights. Nina was eager to buy fresh supplies, being determined not to touch a single mouthful of the food given to them by Lord Fetterness. The apprentices were all glad to dismount, looking towards the village lights eagerly. None of them had been fully able to shake the unease they had felt while staying at Fettercairn Castle, and the idea of having a few drams in the village inn and talking with ordinary people cheered them all. All, that is, except for Lewen, who was racked with misery and guilt. He would have liked to stay with the caravans and try for a chance to speak with Rhiannon, but Nina would not let him.

  ‘Let her be, lad,’ she said, as she poured away every drop of the soup and wine and medicines that the castle servants had packed up for them.

  ‘But I need to try to explain to her …’

  ‘I’d rather ye left her alone, Lewen,’ Nina said, a stern note hardening her voice. ‘To be honest, I’m no’ sure I can trust ye no’ to help her escape. As sympathetic as I am to your distress, she is an accused murderess and the Rìgh has trusted us to bring her to the courts.’

  ‘Please, Nina …’

  She shook her head. ‘Nay, Lewen. I want ye to stay away. Come with us to the village, and drown your sorrows with the other lads. There are times it can do ye good. Besides, this is the closest lowland village to the castle. They must’ve heard tales o’ Fetterness. I want to hear them.’

  So Lewen found himself accompanying Nina and the others to the village, while a rather cross Rafferty was left behind with Iven and Lulu to guard the camp and their prisoner.

  It was a clear, cold evening, with the wind shaking the black branches about and the sky over the mountains very red as the setting sun stained the clouds. Everyone was full of talk and conjecture, for nobody had felt free to talk freely while under Fettercairn Castle’s roof. Only Lewen did not speak, even when Edithe said she had always thought Rhiannon a sly hoar-weasel or when Maisie wondered if it hurt to be hanged.

  Linlithgorn’s inn was small and rough, but it was crowded with farm labourers, milkmaids, eel-fishers and plump crofters’ wives with red hands and cheerful faces. The talk was all of the weather and the spring sowing, and despite himself, Lewen found his mood eased as he drank his dram of whisky, ate a solid vegetable stew with dumplings, and listened. The strangers were all greeted with jovial good spirits, and Nina told them a much edited version of their adventures.

  The news they had come from Fettercairn Castle was met with great interest. ‘Och, they’re an odd people, up there in the highlands,’ the innkeeper’s wife said as she ladled them a second serve of stew. ‘Keep themselves to themselves, they do. Every now and again we get a family coming through, heading for the ports and hoping for work. Terrible stories they tell. We dinna believe most o’ them, o’ course, those highlanders are all a wee touched in the head, but still … enough to make ye check your doors are locked twice over. Ye can never be too careful.’

  Under Nina’s gentle questioning, she expanded like dough in the warmth. She had nothing much new to tell them, except that a few travellers had gone missing in recent years, along with one lazy farmer’s boy, who was prone to leaving his goats to wander as they pleased while he went fishing or fell asleep in a hayrick.

  ‘If it’s stories o’ Fettercairn ye want, ye should ask auld Martin. He came down from the castle nigh on twenty-five years ago, and married a local girl. He’s full o’ stories, like all those highland dreamers.’

  ‘I’d like to hear his stories, if we have time,�
�� Nina answered. ‘Where can I find him?’

  The innkeeper’s wife jerked her head towards the fire. ‘He’ll be entertaining the drinkers,’ she said dryly. ‘I’d ask him now, afore the whisky muddles him more than usual.’

  ‘Thank ye, I will,’ Nina replied and rose and made her way towards the fire, Roden swinging off her hand, Lewen and Landon following close behind. The others stayed where they were, Cameron calling for more whisky, though Fèlice turned to watch them with curious eyes.

  A group of men sat before the fire, some playing trictrac, others gambling on the roll of the dice. A tall, thin man sat folded up on a chair, staring into the flames. He had a crinkled brown face and melancholy grey eyes, and was dressed in a rough smock and leather gaiters. He was telling some tale, which he illustrated with dramatic gestures of his hands. As Nina approached there was a sudden roar of laughter, and one of the men cried, ‘Och, pull the other one, Martin! Ye and your auld tales.’

  ‘I’ve heard ye’re a grand storyteller,’ Nina said gently, pulling a stool towards her and sitting down at the thin man’s gangly knee. ‘Will ye tell us a tale?’

  ‘Give me a dram o’ whisky and I’ll tell ye two, and happen throw in a song as well,’ Martin said, lifting his dreamy eyes to Nina’s face. ‘Ye’re a witch, ye are. I like witches.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she answered. ‘We’ve just come from a place where witches were hated, and I dinna like that at all.’

  ‘Och, ye’ve been at Fetterness, have ye? Bad place. Very bad place.’

  ‘Why? Why is it such a bad place?’

  He stared down at his empty cup and ruminated. Nina glanced at Lewen, who went back and took the whisky decanter from Cameron, despite his howl of protest, and brought it to top up the old man’s clay mug. Martin tasted it thoughtfully, swirled it round his mouth, swallowed, then sipped again. When his cup was empty, Lewen filled it up again.

  ‘I was born in Fetterness, ye ken. More than fifty years ago. They were the good auld days, indeed they were. The Tower o’ Ravens still stood and the town was filled with laughing students who bet on which cockroach would scuttle away the fastest, or which raindrop would reach the bottom o’ the pane first. Lairds and prionnsachan came to the valley to consult the witches’ wisdom, and the MacBrann could often be seen crossing his silver bridge, his cloak flying in the wind, his guards and servants trying to keep up. He was no’ mad then, nay, he was sane as ye or I. But then that was afore the Day o’ Betrayal, when the whole world went mad.’