by King, Susan
Duncan eyed Robert warily. "And what am I to do with him?"
Ewan stepped close and bent his head. "Well," he said in a whisper, "we wondered if you would like to have him take your place on the scaffold tomorrow."
All of Duncan's senses were alert. He snapped his gaze from one cousin to the other. "Take my place?"
"The man is a disgrace, a true snake," Ewan said, speaking from the side of his mouth. "We thought you might like to land your fist in his face." He shrugged. "And we have found no better way to get you out than to leave him here in your place."
"Ah. Has he agreed to this?" Duncan murmured.
"Not exactly," Ewan muttered.
"Stop that mumbling," Robert said. "What are you saying?"
"Only that it is time you confessed to your crimes," Ewan answered. "Callum will help you."
With a swift movement, Callum grabbed Robert and lifted him off the floor. "Tell us all what you have done, Robert. We want to hear why you made false charges against Duncan Macrae."
"Hah. Not false. I brought a spy and a treasonous bastard to justice. I found corruption in the heart of the queen's own men, and exposed him."
Duncan stared, his chains weighing heavily on his wrists and ankles. "Lies," he said.
"Indeed, lies," Hugh said. "Callum—?"
"With pleasure," Callum said, and suddenly knocked Robert against the wall. Robert's head flew back, and he dropped down to the floor.
Kenneth turned and called to Hob. The door cracked open, and Hob tossed in a set of keys before shutting the door hastily.
Hugh caught the keys and bent down to unlock Duncan's iron fetters. "Elspeth left you a cloak," he said. "Put it on, and hunch down as if you are a shorter man. Robert is not as large as you. We mean to run out of here. Hob will pretend to know nothing."
Duncan saw that he had a choice. He could wait for the message from Moray that he hoped would come, or he could grab this chance, however, risky, that had fallen to him. He nodded and grabbed up the cloak from the floor, swirling it around his shoulders. He felt suddenly invigorated, ready to quit this place and worry about the consequences later.
The Frasers clustered in the black darkness of the cell, laughing softly and clapping Duncan on the back. Anxious to get out, he stepped away toward the door, just as a dark whirling shadow fell heavily at the group of cousins. Robert had thrown himself at them with a frenzied yell. They went down in surprise in a chaotic tumble, as if a cannon had landed in their midst.
"I have him!" Callum said. "Oof—"
"But I have him!" Ewan called. "Dhia! And he has a knife!"
Duncan spun around, but the darkness was so complete that he could not tell one cloaked cousin from another. All of them, Frasers and Robert, rolled about in the filthy straw, arms and legs flailing. Duncan heard the ugly sound of punches landing, and hunched down to dive in and help. But he was not sure which one was Robert.
Scant moments later, he saw the writhing mass on the floor begin to separate into men, standing, breathing heavily.
"I have him," one of them called. "He is killed. Go!"
Duncan knocked, the door opened, and the Frasers scrambled quickly out of the cell, leaping up into the corridor and running for the entrance.
Duncan paused to look at Hob. "My thanks, cousin. I owe ye my life."
Hob grinned. "Och, ye're a fine man and I wish ye well. Go now, man." He shoved him after the others.
Duncan ran to catch up to the Frasers, who had slowed down to file sedately past the guards who had admitted them. The guardsmen paid them such little attention that Duncan realized that money must have changed hands earlier. He had never been allowed that many visitors before. Bending at the knees, he walked awkwardly past, head down, trying to look like the shorter man who even now lay in the cell. Nodding brusquely to the guards at the entrance, he stepped out into the courtyard.
The Frasers were far ahead of him, a cluster of dark robed men in the moonlight. Duncan had not realized how late it was; the guards must have required a hefty bribe to allow visitors at such an hour. But the night before an execution, they might be expected to show some leniency for the condemned man.
He drew in a deep breath of cold, fresh air, filled his lungs again, and smiled. Walking toward the gate, he left the castle just behind the Frasers. He saw Hugh lift a hand and wave to the porter at the gate. Somehow they had cleared their way in and out; no questions were even asked.
Only gold could open gates that quickly, Duncan knew. He began to wonder how much was left in his coffers at home. Apparently the Frasers had been quite free with his coin. He laughed, not grudging them a pence. Then he walked briskly down the incline toward the town, moonlight on his shoulders.
They were well along High Street before Duncan realized that one of them had run on ahead. "Lads," he called softly. "Where are you headed?"
Hugh turned. "Back to your rooms for now."
Duncan shook his head. "When they discover Robert in the cell, they will send up the cry and begin to look for me."
"Hob will delay them as long as he can," Hugh answered.
"Still, it is best I leave the city. Go on to my rooms, and take care of Elspeth. If men-at-arms come there, say that you know nothing of my whereabouts. I will ride to find Moray."
"Hugh," Callum said. "Where is Kenneth?"
"He ran ahead," Hugh answered.
"That was Ewan," Callum said.
"I am here," Ewan said. "I thought Hugh ran ahead."
Callum stopped in the road. "Where is Kenneth?" They looked at each other, puzzled.
Duncan felt a shiver go up his spine. "The one who ran ahead was a smaller man than Kenneth," he said slowly. "I thought he was Ewan."
Ewan swore and broke into a run. The Frasers followed, with Duncan in their midst. Feet pounding on the cobbled street, they raced through the town. Seeing the swirl of a dark cloak, Duncan pursued it around a corner, and through a maze of side streets.
He was the first to catch up with Robert on the steps of a multi-level tenement house. As Robert ran through the door and up a flight of stairs, Duncan followed. He thrust his shoulder into a half-open door and grabbed Robert before he could close the door in his face. The Frasers pounded up the steps behind him.
"Where is Kenneth?" Duncan growled.
"I knifed him and left him in the cell," Robert panted back. "Kill me if you will, but he will die of his injury. And you will be brought to justice for escaping."
Duncan slammed him against a wall. The Frasers came into the room behind them and stopped. He landed a strong blow to Robert's jaw, and another to his belly. Robert gave him a odd look of shock, and crumpled to the floor.
Duncan turned around. "Tie him up," he said. "He will go with us to the block in the morning."
"I thought you were riding to find Moray," Hugh said.
"If Kenneth lives, he may be taken to the block in my place," Duncan said. "When my absence is discovered, and a Fraser is found in my cell, he will be quickly condemned by the Council. Hob will not be able to do anything to stop it. His own life may be in danger over this escape. And since we will not be able to go in and get Kenneth, we will have to wait for them to bring him out. And they will," he said, frowning. "I think that they will. The Council members seem anxious to have someone beheaded before the people."
The Frasers applied their attentions to the task of securing Robert with whatever they found at hand. Leather belts found in a cupboard proved to be sturdy fetters.
"These are the rooms Robert has been renting while he has been here," Duncan said. He began to sort through the cupboards. Finding sheaves of papers in a small wooden casket, he sat down to look through them. "Ach. These are not quite what I had in mind," he muttered, tossing them down.
"Duncan," Hugh said. "How will we get Kenneth off the block in the morning?"
Duncan thrust his fingers through his hair, and looked up. "I do not know," he said. "But for now, we have some time left to us before the guards
discover him. We have a task here in these rooms." He spun in a slow circle, eyeing the cupboards, a trunk, and a few small wood and leather boxes. "Look for papers, lads," he said. "Any kind of papers."
Chapter 25
O gentle death, come cut my breath,
I may be dead ere morn!
I may be buried in Scottish ground,
Where I was bred and born.
~"The Demon Lover"
In the great hall at Holyroodhouse, Elspeth watched the rain through a tall window. She and Alasdair had returned to the palace that morning, walking the short distance through a chill fog and a cold, drizzling rain. She shivered in the spacious hall, which was cool despite a fire in the enormous hearth.
"They never came back last night," she said to Alasdair. "They went out late, and did not return. What happened?"
"Stop fretting, girl," he said. His sigh revealed his own concern. "They took Robert after I had found him and went to the prison. I do not know what they meant to do there, though Hugh had some purpose in mind. Perhaps they were allowed to see Duncan, and sat the night with him."
She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the cold iron bars that divided the window space. "I hope so. I want to think that someone was with him last night. Hob would have been there, too. He is a loyal kinsman."
Alasdair nodded, just as the door at the far end of the room opened. The clerk who had come to fetch them for their audience on the previous day entered and cleared his throat loudly.
"Her Grace the Queen is not here. You may leave."
Alasdair murmured a translation, and Elspeth gasped, running toward the man as he turned to go. He frowned with an expression of disapproval at her quick, earnest barrage of Gaelic. Then Alasdair was there, and she turned gratefully to him.
"He says that the queen has ridden into the town to have midday dinner at the Lord Provost's house," Alasdair said.
"But she told me to come back today! She was going to inquire into the matter of Duncan's sentence. Alasdair—" she grabbed his arm. "He will be brought to the block today!"
Alasdair spoke to the clerk again, who answered, shrugged and then walked away, closing the door firmly.
"What can we do? This cannot be the end of it," Elspeth said. "It cannot."
Her cousin placed a hand on her shoulder. "We will go to the Provost's house. I asked the clerk where it is. Come ahead."
She followed, feeling suddenly exhausted. Walking alongside Alasdair, she had the odd sense that the brief walk back to the town was the coldest, longest journey she had ever taken.
As they approached High Street, she pulled on Alasdair's arm. "The scaffold has been set up in the church square—Duncan may be there—" she faltered, nearly stumbling. "I do not want to see that. I do not have the strength."
"Come on, now," Alasdair said. "We will try to see the queen again."
She nodded and walked on. She would beg Mary of Scotland for a pardon from the sentence of beheading. The rain splashed around her in a steady rhythm. Pulling up the edge of her plaid to cloak her head, she glanced at the muddy road ahead.
And stopped. Something hovered in the mist, as if it formed out of the fog and the rain. A shiver went through her, and she sucked in her breath sharply.
She saw a wooden platform, on which stood a tall, elegant woman gowned in black, with a cascading white veil. Mary Stewart, but older, more mature. Elspeth was unable to move as she watched the image shimmer in the air, and change like a dream, taking shape again.
Now the queen knelt in what appeared to be a red petticoat, and folded her hands in prayer. A woman wrapped her head and eyes in a white cloth. The queen stretched forward to lay her head on a wooden block.
Elspeth gasped and fell to her knees in cold mud. The sudden chill dispersed the odd haze that clouded her eyesight. The vision vanished. She raised a trembling hand to her brow.
"Ah, Dhia," she whispered, "this queen has such courage."
"She is a fine lady," Alasdair agreed. "What is wrong?"
She looked up at his kind, concerned face, a queen's man through to his heart, as was Duncan, as were her cousins. What she had seen lay far in the future. Warnings would not change it. Only the events of the queen's own life would shape this destiny. Some visions, after all, were better kept in silence. Elspeth sighed, and rose to her feet.
"Come ahead, Elspeth," Alasdair said. "Do not stop now. I have never known you to give up. Duncan needs you."
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Duncan would not have given up; he had not admitted defeat when she had been taken by Ruari MacDonald; he had always believed that he would find her and save her.
And she would not give up now. Her strength had faltered in the face of fear and dread, but she had seen a vision of true courage, of splendid resolve, a moment ago. She would not allow her own resolve to drain away from her. Mary Stewart's life destiny was in other hands than Elspeth Fraser's; but Duncan Macrae needed her.
This was not over, she told herself. He was still alive, and she loved him. Where there was love, there was always hope.
She walked on. Alasdair had to run a little to catch up.
* * *
The crowd was thin, Duncan thought, pulling the hood of his cloak forward over his brow. Cold rain and wind had discouraged the usual crush of spectators. He glanced around the square. Callum, Hugh and Ewan were milling through what crowd there was. They had left Robert neatly bound and gagged in his rented room only a few streets away from the church square where the scaffold had been built, and they had come here to wait for Kenneth to be brought forward.
Duncan breathed in the keen odor of fresh wood and looked at the newly built scaffold. A block of wood, old and scarred, dripping with rain, sat in the center. A bench for the officials had been placed at the back. The executioner's axe lay on the floorboards, covered with a cloth. Duncan could see the wicked edge of the blade. He flared his nostrils and turned away.
So an execution was planned today after all. They would have discovered Kenneth in the cell by now. Hob would have denied knowing anything, and probably faced severe punishment as the guard on duty at the time of the escape. If Kenneth had survived the knife wound that Robert had given him, he would not have been able to explain who he was or what had happened; he spoke no word of Scots.
Kenneth was alive, he was certain of it. By now, at least some of the Council members would be aware of the whole notorious mess, and would have decided to execute Kenneth in Duncan's place. The executioner would not have left his axe there if the beheading had been cancelled. Likely the headsman was somewhere nearby, Duncan thought; probably praying inside St. Giles. A heavy burden of sin, to take a man's life in cold judgment.
He walked away from the scaffold and passed by Hugh. "Go back and fetch Robert. I think they will bring Kenneth soon."
Hugh nodded and slipped away, beckoning to Ewan. Nearby, Callum looked at Duncan, nodded once and turned away.
Good men, these Frasers, Duncan thought, feeling a sudden, fierce wave of emotion rush through him; loyal and brave, the sort a man should always have at his back.
He glanced around the crowd and wondered again, as he had all morning, whether Elspeth would come to the square. Unaware of his escape as yet, she and Alasdair would think him close to his scheduled execution by now. Although he had wanted to find her, to hold her in his arms and flee the city with her by his side, he had purposefully sent no word to her yet. There had been no time last night, and Hugh had said that she planned to go to Holyroodhouse early to seek audience with the queen.
A wash of pure, stirring love filled him at the thought of Elspeth making that effort for him. The loyalty and tenacity of all these Frasers took his breath, touched him deep inside. Hardly sensing that he deserved such devotion, he intended to return the same a hundredfold if the need ever came.
And he knew the need was now. Kenneth's life was endangered because of him. As long as the lad was held, Duncan could not feel free. Best, then, that Elspeth
knew nothing of his escape; he would not give her false hope. What he faced now would determine what fate truly had in mind for him.
He did not know what would happen here, but he felt it coming, as cold and real as the chill mist in the air. The plan he had in mind was the greatest risk he would ever take; yet it was the only way he could free Kenneth and clear his own name.
He hoped that Elspeth would be delayed at the palace. He would not want her to see this.
* * *
"I cannot go that way," Elspeth said. "The platform is there, in front of the church."
Alasdair gave her a gentle nudge. "There is no one on the scaffold, and the crowd blocks the view. We must go through there to the Provost's house. Just keep your head down and do not look."
Biting her lip and bowing her head, Elspeth walked onward. Someone jostled into her and she stepped aside and kept moving, seeing only feet, legs, cloaks, never looking up. She did not want to see the scaffold. She did not want to see the faces of the people who had come to watch Duncan die.
She neared the scaffold and moved onward, smelling the piney odor of the wood, hearing the gentle hiss of the rain on the cobblestones. Someone bumped into her again and she turned.
A pair of booted feet walked past her, a long black cloak, disappearing into the crowd. She walked on.
And turned back suddenly. She had seen those boots before, had worn them herself only days ago. On a quick intake of breath, she looked up and scanned the crowd. Strangers, unknown to her, a blur of faces in the rain—
And a tall man in a black cloak. She shoved forward through the crowd, hearing Alasdair's exclamation as he turned to find her gone. Dipping her shoulder, she edged between two large women. The tall man, cloaked head to foot, had his back to her. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew the rhythm of that walk, knew the set of those shoulders. Shoving forward again, she pushed through a gap with a desperate sob, and reached out.
She touched his back. He stopped suddenly, and a jolt went through her. He turned, and beneath the hood, Elspeth saw a flash of blue like a Highland sky.
