“Hamish,” Evie said, and put her arm around Margaret, as Rory called out from the cell door.
“Ye, guards, open this cell door now,” he cried out, but it seemed the guards were gone, and now, the sounds of battle were unmistakable.
“Hamish must have come with reinforcements. The garrison from the McBryde castle,” Evie said, and they listened for further sounds from above.
It seemed that a pitched battle was being fought. One that was bloody and long. The dungeons lay below the outer wall, and, even in the depths of that miserable place, it was possible to hear the anguished cries of the soldiers above. But which side would be victorious?
“If Hamish has caught them by surprise, then perhaps they were nae ready. The English had already fought a battle yesterday, they must have been wearied, but Hamish’s men would have been fresh for the fight,” Evie said, her voice sounding hopeful.
“But if their reinforcements have arrived, then this castle would be well defended,” Rory replied.
“Aye, but the gates are burned, Rory,” Evie said, and she began to laugh.
Just then, the shouts of men came clearly along the passageway, as though the fight were being brought into the dungeons themselves. Evie swept the children up into her arms, and they crowded back from the door as the sound of clashing swords came from just outside the cell.
“We are here, Hamish, is that ye?” Rory called out, as a piercing scream filled the air.
“Aye, tis’ I,” Hamish called back, and Evie let out a cry of relief.
“Hamish, we are all here, let us out,” she called.
“A moment, lass, a moment,” he replied, as the sound of another English soldier falling upon his sword echoed along the passageway.
“Come now, we must find our way to the library and escape. Evie, Margaret, take the others and flee across the moorlands. It will be a bloody battle here,” Rory said, as Hamish came to the cell door.
“And who is this I’ve just stumbled over?” he asked, almost falling over the body, laying in the passageway.
“Tis’ our friend Niall McCall, who proved to be the traitor in our midst,” Rory answered, as Hamish turned the key and opened the cell door.
Evie rushed to embrace him, as did the children, and Isla let out a sigh of relief at their deliverance.
“Thanks be to God,” she said, as they filed out into the passageway.
“What is happenin’ up there?” Rory asked as the light of a flaming torch illuminated the way up the steps, and several of the McBryde soldiers came to escort them.
“We took them by surprise just before the dawn began to break. In their arrogance, they had nae barricaded the gate which they burned, and we came upon them by surprise. I have soldiers here from across the borderlands. When our plight was heard, they soon rallied to our banner. I have nearly three hundred men, and there are nay reinforcements on the English side. We outnumber them, and we shall soon have control of the castle. Come now, follow me,” Hamish said, and they hurried up the steps from the dungeons.
Margaret kept close to Rory, still fearful of what her family might do in revenge for this latest ploy. Isabella had already proved herself to be the most ruthless of women and, despite their sisterly bonds, Margaret knew that Isabella would not allow herself to be humiliated for a second time in a day without a fight.
“We must be careful, Rory. Isabella will be like a caged animal,” Margaret said, as they came to the courtyard.
The battle was mostly over, but there were still pockets of English soldiers fighting with the Scots, and Hamish handed Rory his sword, as they made their way towards the keep.
“Daenae worry about Isabella, she’s in the great hall, and I have a guard upon her. She is nay danger to us now, lass,” Hamish said, and he smiled at Margaret, who nodded.
“I am grateful to ye for forcing the truth to be known, Hamish,” she said, and he nodded.
“And I am sorry that I thought less of ye than was the truth, lass,” he said, glancing at Evie, who nodded.
“We are all sorry for the way we have treated Margaret these past days,” she replied.
“And I do not hold it against you for a moment,” Margaret replied.
They were her family now, she had made that very clear in her rejection of Isabella and Niall. She wanted nothing more to do with her family; she hated them for how they had behaved and for the terrible history which existed between them and the Elliotts. How she longed for the end of hostilities and violence along the borders, and a return to peace.
“Come now, tis’ nae yet the time to celebrate a victory. We must make our peace with Isabella first, come now, Laird, yer hour has come,” Hamish said, urging Rory and the others across the courtyard.
As they came to the keep, Margaret turned to look back towards the burnt-out gates of the castle. The English soldiers had now been quelled, and the fighting was over. Swords no longer clashed, and the cries of battle were replaced with shouts of surrender.
“Come now, lass, there will be time for lament later,” Rory said, taking her by the hand.
“You know I would never have betrayed you, Rory?” she said, and he nodded.
“But I did believe it, and for that, I will always be sorry,” he replied, putting his arm around her.
“Fortunately, I can understand, as much as it broke my heart,” she replied, “I am not angry with you; I forgive you.”
“Come now, Isabella awaits,” Hamish said, and hand in hand, Rory and Margaret hurried towards the great hall.
There, they found the tables quite literally turned. Isabella sat on a stool by the fire, the great table on its side, and furniture smashed around her. She was flanked by several of the clansmen, and her own soldiers were bound and shackled to one side. She had not suffered the further humiliation of being tied, and she looked up angrily as Margaret, Rory, and the others strode into the great hall.
“Now then, Isabella Musgrave, it seems yer fortunes have turned,” Rory said, coming to stand before her.
“And it seems that I underestimated you, Rory Elliott, or rather the family you have around you,” she replied.
“Ye have lost, Isabella, there is nothin’ more for ye. Ye have been betrayed by yer lover and defeated by the man ye once sought to marry,” Evie said, stepping forward, as Hamish caught her hand.
“Peace, Evie. Let us nae gloat over misfortune,” he said, and Evie fell silent.
“Am I to be your prisoner now then, Rory Elliott?” Isabella asked, and Rory glanced at Margaret.
“And what would I dae with ye? I wouldnae hold ye here and risk the wrath of yer family. I wish nay more to dae with ye, Isabella Musgrave, or with yer family. Ye have been defeated, that is enough humiliation. Ye have lost everything, and I have nay desire to have ye here as a reminder of what I so nearly lost at yer hands,” Rory replied.
“But Rory, ye cannae just let her go,” Evie said, but Hamish shook his head.
“Rory is right, this woman will nae change. She had the chance to dae so once before, and instead, she became even more bitter and twisted,” Hamish said, as Isabella looked at him with a hateful expression.
“Because you left me for her,” she said, pointing at Evie.
“Because yer mind was filled with a desire for revenge, that is all yer family have ever thought of, ever since the days that Fraser and dear Isla here escaped yer clutches and saw Howard Musgrave fall upon the field of battle. Ye Musgraves are all the same,” Hamish said, but Rory held up his hand.
“Nae all Musgraves are the same,” he said, turning to Margaret, “and because of that, I shall let yer sister go. But that is to be the end of it, Isabella. Ye are to return to yer kin and never set foot across the border again. If any Musgrave so much as steps upon my land, then I shall consider it an act of war. Tis’ only peace I desire, but know this, next time I shall nae be so merciful. We have beaten ye twice, and we can beat ye again,” he said, signaling to the clansmen to escort her from the great hall.
“Rory, ye cannae let her go,” Evie said, but Rory shook his head.
“I am the Laird and tis’ my decision that she be sent from here. Enough blood has been spilled upon her account. I shall nae see more. If we keep her here, then we shall have the enemy at our gates soon enough, but we send her back with threat and warnin’ that if this should ever happen again, then our wrath shall be known,” Rory said.
“Allow me, then, the dignity to walk out of this castle on my own. I do not need their hands upon me,” Isabella said as the clansmen took hold of her.
“Very well,” Rory said, and the clansmen stepped back.
Now, Margaret watched as her sister stepped forward. She turned and nodded to her, pausing as their eyes met.
“You have made your choice then, sister. You will stay?” she asked, and Margaret nodded.
“I do not hate you, Isabella. I cannot hate you. You are my sister, and that bond shall ever remain. But I am no Musgrave. It is here that I belong, I have found my place, and there is nowhere I would rather be than at Rory’s side,” Margaret said, as her sister smiled.
“You have chosen the better part, or so it seems,” she said, as Rory led her from the great hall.
Margaret followed, watching as Isabella walked slowly and sedately towards the doors of the keep. She was a defeated woman, a woman no longer with the look of power and authority she had once commanded. Margaret felt almost sorry for her and for the bitter and twisted woman she had become. It was hatred that had driven Isabella, and now she was left with nothing. Margaret could only pity her, knowing that Isabella was left with nothing.
“Ye will go from this place, and I will allow yer soldiers, those who have nae fled, to accompany ye. I want nay prisoners here,” Rory said, as they stood on the steps of the keep and looked across the parapet over the courtyard.
Only a handful of English soldiers remained, the rest either dead or deserted. Margaret slipped her hand into Rory’s, as Isabella stood looking out towards the borders, the charred remains of the castle gates having been pulled down. She turned to Rory and Margaret, nodding as she did so, a tear in her eye.
“I will not trouble you further,” she said, and Rory nodded.
“Remember this act of mercy when ye tell yer family of all that has happened here,” he said, and Isabella shook her head.
“There will be nothing for me to tell,” she said, and without warning, threw herself from the parapet and down into the courtyard below.
Margaret let out a scream and rushed down the steps, as several of the clansmen hurried to Isabella’s aid.
“Stand back,” Rory cried out, following Margaret down the steps, as the others came after him.
Isabella lay on the flagstones of the courtyard, her face looking up at the early morning sky above. There was blood trailing from the back of her head, her eyes glazed over, her final breath about to pass. Margaret knelt at her side, clasping her hand, a tear running down her cheek.
“Isabella? Oh, Isabella, why did you jump? Why?” she cried.
“Because I have nothing more to live for,” she gasped.
“But you were free, there was more for you than this, much more,” Margaret said, bringing Isabella’s hand to her lips.
“I want nothing more,” Isabella replied, her voice weak and distant.
“Then know that despite everything, I still love you. You are my sister, and I will not forget you, I will not forget your memory,” Margaret said, as Isabella’s eyes closed.
“I am sorry,” she stammered, as she let out a final gasp, her head lolling to one side.
Margaret rose and turned to find Rory and the others behind her. He put his arms around her, as the sun broke over the castle battlements and cast its rays upon Isabella’s broken body. She began to cry, burying her face into Rory’s chest, sobbing for the loss of a woman who could have been so different and whose life could have meant so much more.
“She died on her own sword,” Rory said, as Margaret looked up at him through tear-stained eyes.
“She would not have changed; she was too embittered, too filled with jealousy and hatred,” he said.
“But even she didnae deserve that,” Hamish said, and Evie shook her head.
“Nay one deserves that,” she said.
“Then she shall have a decent burial and let it be known that she died by her own hand,” Rory said, turning to the group of English soldiers who were huddled by the charred remains of the castle gates.
They nodded, and Rory waved them off, the others watching as they fled down the track towards Lochrutton.
“And let this be the end of it,” Hamish said.
Margaret looked down again at Isabell’s lifeless body. She had no words to describe how she felt, a guilty sense of relief, yet sorrow too for the passing of her sister who could have been someone quite different.
“I did not want this to be her fate,” Margaret said, and Rory shook his head.
“There is much that we didnae want in all of this, lass. But tis’ the way tis’ and that is that. Tis’ what we now dae that matters,” he said, and she caught a glimpse of grim determination in his eye.
The banner of the Musgraves was cast down from the battlements of Kirklinton, and the Elliotts flag restored, fluttering in the early morning breeze. Margaret and Rory walked hand in hand, as Isabella’s body was taken away, and they came to the gates of the castle, where the sun was shining down upon the moorlands.
“Do you think this is the end?” Margret asked, and Rory shook his head.
“Tis’ only the beginning of somethin’ else, lass,” he replied, turning to her, and kissing her upon the cheek.
Margaret sighed, resting her head upon his shoulder, and looking out across the moorlands. He was right, this was not the end, and she wondered what would happen and if there could still be a future for her at Kirklinton. After all that had passed between them, Margaret knew she loved Rory, and prayed that he could now look beyond the past and start a new beginning with her.
Epilogue
They buried Isabella Musgrave next to Niall McCall in an unmarked grave around a mile across the heathers towards Armstrong castle. There was much to see to, for the English soldiers had done considerable damage and had attacked several outlying crofts, along with peasants living in the woods and patrols of clansmen on the northern moor.
But, in a few days, the last of the English soldiers were banished, and word came north that the Musgraves had retreated south. It seemed as though peace had finally come to the borderlands, and the death of Isabella Musgrave seemed a final act in what had been a long and bloody war, which had cost countless lives and lasted many years.
The celebrations were short-lived, though a feast was held in the great hall to celebrate the victory, a feast tinged with sadness that Fraser Elliott had not been there to see his enemies defeated. They toasted him with ancient barrels of whiskey and sang songs of victory and remembrance, but there remained a sadness in the air, not least for Margaret, who felt the loss particularly keenly.
She had no love for what her sister had done, nor for the actions of her family. But, despite her desire to never hear the name of Musgrave again, she could not merely break the bonds of blood to Isabella and stood for several hours at her graveside, whispering words of forgiveness.
“Come and walk with me, Margaret,” Rory said.
It was three days after Isabella’s death, the celebration of victory was over, and the hard work of rebuilding the castle gates and securing the Elliotts lands had begun. Margaret had been standing by Isabella’s graveside, gazing out across the moorlands towards the hills in the distance. She had been lost in thought, and Rory’s voice had startled her.
“I had thought that you were seeing to the carpenters on the gates,” Margaret said, and he shook his head.
“Hamish is there, he will see to the carpenters, lass,” he replied, smiling and shaking his head.
“I was just thinking about Isabella, and how di
fferent life might have been for her,” Margaret said, as they began to walk together over the moorlands towards Armstrong castle.
“One thing I have learned in life is never to expect somethin’ to be as we would expect it,” Rory replied.
“What do you mean?” Margaret asked, confused at his words.
“When I was a young man and grew up here, I thought that there was only one course in life, and that was to be the Laird. That much is true, of course, but now I am Laird it is not how I imagined. I had thought that I would marry Caitlin and she and I would live here together. I could think of nay other way that I might be happy except for that,” he said, slipping his hand into Margaret’s.
A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3) Page 24
