by Deb Kemper
Garth jumped up and caught her in his arms. “Is it time?”
Amalie shook her head. “Please, no!” She straightened again. “There, just a spasm.” She looked up, to find Larena in the doorway.
Lady Macgillivray was pale, her features drawn. “Thank ye fer tendin’ to Daniel, Amalie. Mortimer agreed we need to stay, though Daniel’s set against it.” She crossed her arms.
Amalie waddled to Larena’s side, still clutching the catch in her back. “Perhaps you could stay for a few days and let Mortimer see to him.”
Larena nodded mutely.
Garth strode past them.
Amalie reached for Larena to comfort her. Her friend laid her head on Amalie’s shoulder.
They heard scuffling in the foyer and walked toward the men.
Three pages hoisted a stretcher to help Garth remove the Macgillivray to the guest bedroom. They set it on the floor. Garth helped his friend to lay down on it and the four of them lifted and carried him to the rarely used bedroom behind the stairs. Maids worked quickly to strip dust coverings from the furniture.
Larena and Amalie followed to the room.
“Set down yer end, Glenn.” Garth ordered. He and another lad lowered the top halfway, as the other two propped the bottom on the floor. Garth turned beside the pallet and offered his old friend his bent arm. “Grab on so I can let go of the stretcher and I’ll carry ye.”
Daniel looked up warily.
“Grab on, man!” Garth barked.
The Macgillivray obeyed and held onto Garth’s large arms with both hands. Weak though he was, he managed enough strength to sit up. Garth supported his back, to get him to his feet. He stood Daniel up, then sat him on the edge of the bed.
The Mackintosh kept a hold on him. “Glenn, get his shoes off. Amalie, send for a leine from our room.” He glanced at the man in his arms. “My old friend and I are near in size.”
Amalie left for the chore.
Larena assisted Garth in the undressing of her husband.
Amalie caught a page and had him deliver the leine to the bedroom. She waited in the gallery.
Granny Mae blew through the front door wrapped in a wool cloak, with her basket over her arm. She stopped to curtsy. “Milady.”
“What can I bring you, ma’am?”
“Have ’em put the kettle on and bring me a pot of balled water.” She stripped off her cloak and slung it onto a peg. “Oh, and milady?”
Amalie stopped at the kitchen door. “Aye?”
“I need to take a look at ye before I leave.” Her eyes ran over the mistress’s belly. “Ye’ve dropped a bit since yesterday.” Her stern glance gave Amalie pause.
She nodded. “Aye, ma’am. I’ll be handy.” She pushed the kitchen door open and hollered for Rose to put the kettle on for Grannie May.
****
“Did The Macgillivray take the medicine, Granny?” Amalie posed the question lying on her bed, in her white gown, trying not to shiver.
“Aye, he did then. Not real willin’, that one. Mayhap he’ll live through the night.”
“Is it that dire?” Amalie frowned and wiggled when Granny poked her ribs.
“I ain’t God, jest a healer. Ye’ve dropped a bit more. These two may be here in a night instead of a sennight. Ye have a lap left atall?”
Amalie chuckled. “No ma’am, I’ve had no lap for several days. It vexes Ewan.”
“Bah! He’s too old to be climbin’ on his mam.” Granny fussed. Her toothless mouth widened in a grin when she felt one of the twins kicking her hand. “Strong as oxen these are. Take after their da.”
Amalie closed her eyes and for a moment tried to imagine the two babies she carried. Who will they look like? Boy and a girl, two boys, two girls?
“Ye’ll know when they get ’ere.” Granny packed up her basket.
“How’d you know that’s what I was thinkin’?”
The old woman giggled. “Well, then, queen or serf, makes no matter to a new mither. We’re all alike in tha’.” She turned to the door.
Amalie sat up on the side of the bed.
Granny opened the door to find Garth standing just outside. “Sir.” She nodded her ragged head his direction. As she passed him, she mumbled, “Be expectin’ them younguns this night or on the morrow. I’ll need to tend her on the morrow, anyway.”
He grinned. “Ta, Granny.” He slipped through and closed the door.
Amalie’s smile dropped away. “How’s Philip?”
“Strugglin’, Mortimer says. We’ll see. Collin is back and Gordon readies the coach. They leave within the hour for Inverness. I’m thinkin’ it may be a good idea to get ye and the children out. The Dowager’s in France, fer a few months, so ye’d have the run of Moy Hall, if ye want.” He snuggled close to Amalie, holding her lightly.
“This is our home, sir. I canna ride until the bairns are born; even then we may not fare well.”
He nodded. “We’re prepared to stay against the adversary, then.”
“I hope the bairns hold off for Papa and Kay-Kay to get here.” She absently rubbed her belly.
Garth placed his hand over the expanse of her white gown. “With Collin and Gordon gone fer two days, it leaves us short fightin’ men, should it come to that.”
“Pray God, not, sir.” She shivered and leaned into his warm embrace.
He tilted her face up; his voice dropped to a whisper. “Do ye trust me, lass?”
“Of course I do, Garth. Why do you ask?”
“If I need to get ye out, will ye obey me to the letter, no arguments?” His sober tone alarmed her.
She paled. “Aye. You’ll do the best you can for us. I know that.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s all I can ask, lamb. Now, let’s get ye dressed. The children are waitin’ fer ye.”
She stood and started for the door to go to her room.
“Um, not there. Wear what ye had on earlier. Gerty’s packed yer clothes.” He snagged her linen shift from a hook.
“Why has Gerty packed my clothes? Where am I going?” She whirled to face him.
“Ye just promised to do what I tell ye, without question.” Garth grinned.
“That was a trick, wasn’t it?” She removed her gown and pulled the shift over her head.
“Not exactly. The children, nurse, and Gerty await ye, in the carriage.”
“I didn’t hear anyone in the….”
“They went through the secret passage in the nursery. We’ll go out the passage from here.” He gestured at a panel beside the fireplace. “Millie and Mr. Douglas took provisions in the wee hours, this mornin’. They’ll be ready fer ye. Collin’s family and Granny Mae’ll be along soon.” He clapped his hands together. “So, be stirring to obedience, my heart.”
“And you?” Amalie slipped on her green wool shift.
Garth handed over her wool kirtle and buttoned her shift in the back. He took and held her kirtle for her, as she secured the front buttons. By the time she sat for her shoes he was on the floor and had them ready to put on her feet and tied the laces.
“If these come untied how do ye manage?”
“I have to find help, sir. Are you comin’ along as my maid? ’Cause you’re far quicker than Gerty.”
He chuckled and rose. “No, lamb. I’ll be on directly, but I won’t be ridin’ wi’ ye.”
Amalie stood and clutched the front of his leine in her hands. “When and why?”
Garth considered his answer. “It’s me they’ll be wantin’. When I get ye clear, I’ll go out another direction. Collin’s mount awaits me, with a trusted servant. I’ll most likely be ahead of ye unless…well, I’m not.”
“We’re going to Inverness then?”
“Aye, lamb.” He bent to kiss her mouth. “Collin will fetch yer family to us there. He’ll go to meet them, as soon as ye’re safely tucked away into Millie’s care.” Garth draped an old black wool cloak over his wide shoulders.
“I wondered where she was all day.” She donned Garth’s
breacan wool cape from his wardrobe. “Well, sir, I’m ready.”
He pressed the panel beside the fireplace to a cold cavernous opening. “We go down here. It’s dark, but I’ll be in front of ye with a torch. Keep yer hands on my shoulders.”
She nodded. “I will.”
He hefted a dusty, tar-soaked torch from its niche in the wall and lit it from the peat fire in the fireplace. Inside the cavern, he pressed a wooden lever overhead and made certain the portal closed behind them.
Quietly they made their way down ancient stone steps spiraling off to their left. The damp and dust made Amalie sneeze several times. Garth held his finger to his lips when they approached a landing. They reached the ground floor of the castle and felt the warmth of the stone that backed the fireplace, of the guest room where Daniel and Larena lodged. They proceeded to an intersection, where a passage from above met their own. Garth continued another hundred yards ,through a straight tunnel. At the end, a large oak door beckoned. He left the torch burning and hung it in its niche. He turned to Amalie, finger to his lips again, and eased the heavy door open. He flipped the hood of the cloak over his head, listened for a few seconds, then edged through. He was gone for a long moment. Amalie fought the urge to tap her foot, in impatience.
He opened the door from outside and reached for her, with a smile. “Come, my heart.”
She stepped through the portal into a cavern. At the distant entrance she could see the carriage. Mallow peered into the mouth of the cave and turned back.
The last of the day’s light revealed a cluster of trees, and brush growing thickly near the coach and carriage. Crisp, cold air, outside the dank cave smelled of peat smoke. The vehicles sat in a path, through the underbrush, that was barely wide enough to accommodate them. Tied on the back of the carriage, Garth’s roan, Jack, swung his head and pawed the sod, at the sight of his master. Amalie scrutinized her surroundings, but didn’t recognize the area.
Garth efficiently hustled her into the coach. He leaned in. “Farewell, my darlin’s. I’ll be with ye soon, I promise.” He reached for Jessie’s damp face. “Now, pet, don’t go on so. Mind Mam and I’ll see ye in a little while.” She nodded. He laid his hand on Ewan’s hefty thigh. The sleeping toddler stretched and curled toward the nurse.
Garth straightened and glanced at Mallow. “Ye ken what’s necessary, lass.” He closed the door and stepped back, nodding to Collin, who popped the reins and urged the team of horses forward.
He watched his reasons for living pull away into, what he hoped was, safety.
Chapter 37
Once inside, Garth took the back stairs to the kitchen and poured a mug of water, from the wooden pail, on the preparation table. A stein or two of mead would be just the thing, but I need a clear head about me. He refilled the mug and wound his way through, to the guest room. He tapped on the door and opened it, quietly.
Larena tore her gaze from her husband’s silent form. She whispered to Garth. “He’s still breathing. Granny Mae said he’ll probably be fine. Should I trust that, Garth?”
He shrugged. “I can’t say. Of course, he’s a warrior so that should make a difference. How’re ye holdin’ up?”
“I’ll be alright. I’ll stay with him. Might Amalie rejoin us?”
He shook his head. “She’s done fer the night. Children are quiet. Why don’t ye get some rest? Rose’ll be in the kitchen early. Do ye need anythin’?”
“Nay, I’m fine. Goodnigh’, then.”
“Aye, goodnigh’.” He left for his study.
He sat at his desk and penned a note to Reverend Peter Macgillivray, Daniel’s brother. He folded the letter and dripped on wax, pressing his signet ring into the hot seal. After, he penned a note to Daniel and Larena. He sealed that one and left it on the desk.
He gathered weapons, he’d cleaned earlier, and fixed two loaded pistols in his belt, hefted his rifle, and packed one powder horn in his leather satchel. He slid into his sheathed claymore and secured his dirk under his left arm. He packed another powder horn in a rucksack, with a hare-lined leather pouch of balls. Checking the gallery, to be sure no one was about, he made for the stairs, up and then to his chamber.
The panel opened, at his touch. He passed through with the old black cloak on over his pack and weapons. He lit the torch and hied down the steps. At the doorway to the cave, he deposited his burden and edged the door open to listen. He slipped through and checked the perimeter. Silently night settled around him. An owl hooted nearby. Heavy mist shrouded the valley.
He returned for his deposit and quickened his step to rendezvous with Collin’s stallion. He picked his way over a stony trail, to the bridge across the burn, along the slippery moss-coated path. He slid to a halt, shy of his objective, pulled the hood over his head, studying the area where Glenn waited with Coot.
The page sat on a boulder and rubbed the stallion’s muzzle. “Tha’s all, Coot. I don’t have more carrots.” Coot’s head jerked up, both ears cocked.
Garth did the same, seconds behind the stallion, detecting nearby riders. He waited, in fog’s protective cover. Two men appeared, cautiously approaching Glenn.
The page was on his feet. “May I hep ye, sirs?” He looped Coot’s lead around his wrist, leaving his hands free to fight.
Good man! Garth had to smile.
“Who ye waitin’ on, lad?” The MacGregor asked.
“Collin, sir. He hired me to watch his horse. So, I been watchin’ ’im.” Glenn straightened to his full six lanky feet.
“How long’s Collin been gone?” MacGregor’s champion asked.
“Only a tick, sir. I expect he’ll appear any moment.” Glenn’s voice dropped. “I think he’s meetin’ a servin’ girl.” He grinned. “Ye ken?”
MacGregor nodded. “Aye, lad. Well, keep old Coot safe fer ’im then.” He turned his horse towards the road.
Garth watched the stallion for five minutes before he approached. Without a sound, he crept from his hiding place.
Glenn started, jerking the horse’s reins. “Oh, it’s ye, sire. MacGregor came….”
“I saw ’im, lad. Ye did well.” Garth tied his rifle onto the saddle, slung his pack over his shoulder, and mounted the horse. He handed Glenn a sovereign and a letter. “Saddle a horse and take this message to Peter Macgillivray, at his kirk. Then ye get back to the keep and lay low. Don’t tell anyone what goes on here. It doesn’t matter who asks, ye ken nothin’.”
“Aye, sir.” Glenn whirled and loped toward the burn.
Garth kneed the stallion. “Let’s go then, horse.” Coot laid his ears back, turned his head to get a glimpse of who the strange load was astride him. Garth tapped his flank with the tip of the rein, and growled, “Now!”
Coot flew like the wind, Garth low on his back. The cloak’s hood blew off. As the road wound upward, through hills, the moon broke through the heavy mist. The path ahead glowed in bright light.
A flicker of movement off to his right was all the warning The Mackintosh received of an attack. A flash, boom, and he felt the earth shake beneath him as Coot took his job more seriously. The stallion stretched into the run, grabbing every inch.
Garth heard pursuers shouting, but they were too far away to understand words. He held on and let Coot put distance between them and the posse.
Garth scanned the area, as they approached a crossroad. Nothing moved.
“We’re hangin’ a right up here, horse.” He jerked the reins that direction and expected Coot to pause or change his stride. The stallion didn’t miss a step in the curve, but kept pace.
Coot didn’t slow, until a tree lying across the road came into view ahead. Garth braced himself for the flight. Coot lengthened his stride and snorted. The two of them sailed over the fallen evergreen. Garth glanced down while airborne. Looks as though it fell from wind. On toward Inverness, the duet flew.
Approaching a public house, Garth reined the stallion into a trot. They slowed, as Garth, looked over the collection of buggies, horses, and two
wagons.
Not one familiar. Safe for a bit o’ supper at least. “Let’s stop fer a rest, Coot. Ye need a drink and a good rub before we tackle the remainder o’ the journey.” He dismounted and led the horse toward the barn, where a stable hand ran out to meet him. “Here, lad, take my horse fer a brisk rub and get ’im a drink. He’s done a fine job tonigh’.” He handed over the reins and paid the lad extra.
The young man’s voice sounded barely above a whisper. “Ta, sire. Aren’t ye The Mackintosh?”
Garth’s steps froze. “Aye, who’s askin’?”
The lad backed away slowly. “Men inside await yer arrival, sire. They told me not to tell ye.” He turned to the barn with Coot, glancing back at Garth.
Garth strode to the entry. He hesitated at the door, checked his weapons, and threw the portal wide. He failed to recognize anyone, as he scanned the crowd. He took a seat, at a worn round table, in the corner, his back to the wall and surveyed the occupants.
A woman made for him. Hefty, near middle age, long hair in a messy knot, atop her head, she wore heavily powdered bee’s wax makeup and a stained gown. She leaned forward, on the table exposing too much bosom. “Wha’ can I git ye, love?”
“Mead.” Garth regarded two men on the opposite side of the room, past her shoulder. “And a bit of what the cook’s made fer supper, too, lass.”
She giggled. “Aye, love, it’s haggis tonight.”
“That’ll do then.” Garth’s hooded gaze observed the men while keeping his peripheral view open. A child began a fuss off to his right. He tilted his head slightly, at the movement of its mother taking it in hand.
The older of the two traveler’s glanced Garth’s way a few times before he stood, straightening his kilt, wearing Innis’ clan colors.
The woman returned with Garth’s mead and a plate of gray food. She set the steaming haggis before him. He smiled and passed a coin across the table.
The mature gent took his seat again, leaning over to speak with his younger accomplice.
Garth took a bite of the haggis and sipped the mead as he watched the older man decide to come his way. He propped the fork on the plate and reached for his sghian dubh tucked into the top of his boot. He placed the short bladed knife in his lap and resumed eating his supper, scooping up the oats soaked in haggis broth.
