Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  Turning, but keeping an arm around Bethoc’s waist, Laurel watched the man crouch by the sheriff. “Nay, he doesnae, but we shall see,” Laurel said softly.

  “Awake?” the man asked the sheriff when he groaned and opened his eyes.

  “Aye, aye. Who are . . .” The sheriff began to sit up and caught sight of Callum. “Ye threw me! Weel, ye will pay dearly for that, sir. I dinnae care if ye are a laird. Ye dinnae lay violent hand on a sheriff.”

  “Sit,” said the man crouched near him as the sheriff started to get to his feet.

  The sheriff gaped at the man. Then, slowly, his expression changed from shock to wary confusion. He carefully sat down.

  “Who are ye?” he asked.

  “Sir Simon Innes, laird of Lochancorrie. Ye may ken me from a position I once had as the King’s Hound.” He nodded slightly when the sheriff paled. “I have a few questions I would like ye to answer.”

  “What questions? And what are these women doing out of their cells?”

  “I believe ye have the answer for that.”

  “What do ye mean? I am just doing my job.”

  “And what part of your job says ‘interrogation’ includes the base use of a woman put in your care?”

  His words were soft yet so cold, Bethoc was not surprised when she shivered. It pleased her to feel Laurel do so as well, although she feared ugly memories of this room might have some part in it. She slipped her arm around Laurel’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.

  “I wasnae doing that! I was just holding her down as I questioned her.”

  “Ah, I see, and that works weel, does it? I am still rather curious as to what part your penis played for ye had it in your hand with your kilt hiked up high. Going to beat the truth out of her and forgot your stick, did ye?”

  “Nay, I didnae. Ye . . . I . . .”

  Sir Simon surged to his feet and then yanked the sheriff up. “I have some men ye need to meet.”

  Uven and Robbie grabbed the guards. Callum went to collect up the woman but it was Laurel who went to Lorraine and led her away. He took Bethoc by the hand, pleased to find no resistance. It was clear what she had been through would not cause her to fully reject him.

  “I was in time, aye?” he asked as they followed the others.

  “Aye.” She managed a brief smile. “My braies confounded them.”

  “Another reason many a Murray lass wears them. I think it was Elspeth who said they can buy ye a few moments to get free.”

  “Or have some men kick down the door so they can all rush in and start tossing men around.”

  “Aye, that too.” He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.

  Bethoc was feeling safe again and she savored the feeling. “Ye have some powerful friends,” she murmured with a nod toward Sir Simon.

  “Ah, weel, Robbie fetched him. Seems all this reminded Sir Simon of when his wife was wrongly arrested. He is wed to a Murray lass. Elspeth’s daughter in truth. Two strong reasons. I also think it has been a while since he has had a good puzzle to solve.”

  “Was he really the King’s Hound?”

  “Aye. He had a reputation for being honest and unrelenting in his search for the truth. Beginning to see why,” Callum said as they reached the sheriff’s office.

  The sheriff looked at the two men tied up on the floor and all the color drained from his face. He staggered to his chair and sat down. Uven and Robbie shoved the two guards against the wall and stood watch over them. It was then that Callum realized William had fled.

  “William has taken to his heels,” said Callum.

  “I doubt a mon who looks like him will be hard to find if we need him,” said Sir Simon and then he looked at the sheriff. “I believe ye ken these two men.”

  “Aye,” the sheriff muttered, looking as if he was about to weep.

  “Weel, they have confessed to attacking Sir Callum here, of torturing and murdering Kerr Matheson, and of gutting Robert MacKray. They also claim ye were aware of all of it.” He glanced at the scarred man. “Who are ye?”

  “Ian MacDuff.” He tilted his head toward the other man caught with him. “This is Dougal Marr.”

  “Are ye weel acquainted with the sheriff?”

  “Aye, but he isnae the one we work for.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “Nay sure but he is close to the laird, mayhap e’en one of the mon’s sons. What did I care? His money was good.”

  Sir Simon took a deep breath and let it out slowly then quietly asked, “And Master Halliday?”

  “What of him? He is dead. Got his throat cut, didnae he?”

  “Strange that ye ken how he died.”

  “Why? ’Tis a village. People talk.”

  “Mistress Halliday, might I ask just when your husband died?” Sir Simon politely asked.

  “Sometime in the night. They found him in the fields outside of the village,” she replied. “The sheriff and his men found him round dawn and then came to take me up.”

  He looked at the sheriff. “Ye have quite the profitable business working here, dinnae ye. Kill the mon, take up the wife for murder, and confiscate all the property.”

  “Ye cannae prove that.”

  Sir Simon smiled. “Oh, I could but I dinnae really have to. What I do have is enough to set the women free. I also have papers to prove Matheson’s property was fully his, sold by the laird himself. I suspicion I will find papers at the other houses. Your hirelings didnae search weel enough.” The glare the sheriff sent MacDuff was enough to confirm Sir Simon’s suspicions that they worked together.

  “There were three others,” said Laurel. “They have been hanged!”

  “Weel, we will see their names cleared as weel. ’Tisnae nearly enough but at least they will be recalled as murdered nay murderers. How about the magistrate? Is he part of all this?”

  “Part of what?” asked the sheriff, and he jumped when Sir Simon slammed his hands down on the table and leaned toward him.

  “Dinnae play with me, sir. I can pull in a near army of men to dig out all your secrets. Who is the magistrate here and is he a part of this?”

  “The magistrate is Sir Walter MacKray and he doesnae ken anything. He but passes judgment on the prisoners we bring him.” Every word sounded as if it had been pulled out of the sheriff, an unwilling confession.

  “I see.” Sir Simon straightened up and looked at Callum. “Can ye watch this lot? I believe I should go inform the magistrate that he sent three innocent women to their deaths.”

  “I will go with ye,” said Robbie as he stepped forward.

  “Ye cannae leave three men guarding five. Best if ye stay here,” said Sir Simon.

  Robbie nodded toward the sheriff. “He could be lying. Magistrate could be part of it all.”

  “I dinnae believe he is lying.”

  “Two of the men are tied up.”

  “Robbie, I . . .”

  Robbie walked over to the sheriff’s two guards, grabbed their heads, and slammed them together. He walked back to Sir Simon even as the two men slumped to the ground unconscious. Bethoc stared at the men, then glanced at Laurel and Lorraine and all three women looked back at the guards while fighting not to laugh.

  “Numbers are better now. We can go,” Robbie said.

  “Of course.” Sir Simon made it out the door before he started to laugh.

  Callum shook his head and looked at Uven who said, “Robbie’s idea of a solution to the problem.”

  “Simple and direct. Do ye think the magistrate is part of it all?” Callum asked.

  “If Sir Simon says nay, then nay. He has a good ear for a lie.” Uven looked at the sheriff. “He kens this fat fool is lying.”

  “I havenae killed anyone,” protested the sheriff.

  “Nay? Ye took up three women, accused them of murders ye kenned they didnae commit, abused them, and when ye tired of that, saw them sentenced and hanged.” Uven looked at him in disgust. “That was murder.”

  The sheriff stu
ttered as he struggled to protest that charge.

  “Hush,” snapped Uven. “Nay more lies. We willnae heed them. Ye are worse than that scum,” he said as he pointed at MacDuff. “They got the blood on their hands but that doesnae make yours clean. Enriched yourself nicely, I wager. Either from what the woman had or by helping yourself to some of the pay meant for these fools.”

  MacDuff sat up straighter and saw the truth in the sheriff’s face. “You bastard!”

  Uven ignored that and asked the sheriff, “Did ye get to keep one of the properties?”

  “Nay! I kept none of the lands. They all went to . . .” He abruptly closed his mouth.

  “Ah, nay, there is at least one more player in this game. Best to give up the name. We will find it out anyway,” said Callum.

  The sheriff kept his eyes lowered and shook his head.

  “I am certain we will find out soon. Sir Simon has a true skill for ferreting out the truth. Aye, ye may nay have wielded the knife but ye are a part of these killings, a verra big part. Ye are also all foul rapists.”

  “They were willing,” the sheriff protested.

  Laurel marched over to the table in front of him and mimicked Sir Simon, slapping her hands down on the table, causing the sheriff to jump. She leaned forward and spat, “Willing? Ye tell yourself we were willing?”

  “Ye didnae fight, did ye?” The look in her eyes made him lean back as far as he could without moving his chair.

  “’Tis hard to fight three men, even harder to fight when ye are tied hand and foot. Women who have had much of their strength sapped from their bodies by being nearly drowned repeatedly in William’s barrel, from getting only one plate of slop a day, from the fear of kenning ye are innocent but no one is listening so ye will hang. Dinnae ye dare use the word willing when ye speak of what ye did, ye fat bastard. Dinnae ye ever dare.”

  Bethoc hurried over to take Laurel by the arm. She could feel the woman shaking and knew she would soon start weeping. That would later humiliate her so Bethoc put her arm around the woman’s waist and led her out of the room. She could hear the soft sound of Lorraine as the woman hurried after them. Callum gave her a stern look that conveyed the clear message that she was to go no farther than just outside the door and then the door behind them.

  “Jesu,” muttered Laurel and she covered her face with her hands. “The hatred I feel for that mon kens no depth. I could feel it rising up to choke me with its venom.” She took a deep breath and then wiped the tears away before looking at Bethoc. “Thank ye for getting me out of there. I wouldnae have wanted him to see my tears.”

  “Because he would have thought them a sign of weakness, nay the fury they truly reveal,” said Lorraine as she stepped up to lightly rub Laurel’s back.

  “Exactly.” Laurel kept taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. “I am better now.”

  “Are ye certain?” asked Bethoc. “Better enough to go back in there?”

  “Mayhap it would be good to give me a few more minutes.”

  “Then we will take a few. He cannae get anyone to believe his lies, ye ken. All those men saw me tied to the bed, skirts up, with the sheriff on top of me and ready. They ken what he was about. Two of them are lairds. One used to be the King’s Hound, and all are knights. He is done, finished. I just wish we could learn who has been the one ordering this, the one picking the lands to take.”

  “I really think it is one of the laird’s sons,” said Lorraine.

  “That would explain why no one is telling.” Laurel frowned. “’Tis the youngest, I would wager. He has always been a little bastard, wanting what is nay his, bullying people to get his way, and nay paying his tab at the tavern. A shame, for the laird is a good mon and so are his other three sons. His lassies are pure angels. I have seen the youngest son being mean to them, too. Aye, I will bet it is him. I think this will all soon end,” she said as she cocked her head, listening. “That Sir Simon returns with more than Sir Robbie the head cracker.”

  Bethoc laughed and then Sir Simon came into view. With him he had a well-dressed man who looked as if he was about thirty. The man’s eyes widened at them and then he stared hard at Lorraine.

  “Lorraine?” he asked, and stepped closer, causing Sir Simon to halt.

  “Aye, Sir MacKray,” she replied, and blushed when he took her hands gently in his.

  “Weel, if I didnae already ken the mon, I would wonder if he had killed her husband,” murmured Sir Simon as he moved next to Bethoc and watched the two step away to have a fierce whispered conversation.

  “’Tis a bit of a surprise.” Bethoc looked at the man. “Ye found him quickly.”

  “Ah, I would like to say it was my great skill but I fear it was just good luck. He was about to come in as Robbie and I stepped out. Probably caught wind of her arrest, now that I think on it. So, Robbie and I took him o’er to the tavern and had a chat.” He sighed. “He is horrified about those other three women and I believe I actually saw his friendship with the sheriff die. I feel badly for him as he is a good, honest mon who believes in the law and justice.”

  “I have a feeling he will be getting all the sympathy he could want,” said Bethoc as they watched Lorraine stroke his hair when he bent his head in shame.

  Sir Simon chuckled and then took a few steps closer to the couple. “We had best go, Walter.”

  “Of course. I will speak with ye later, Lorraine.” He kissed her cheek and followed Sir Simon.

  “My, my,” drawled Laurel when the door shut behind the men, and she grinned when Lorraine blushed brightly. “Ye willnae be a widow for long.”

  “Nay, ye misread the situation,” Lorraine protested. “I have kenned Walter since we were bairns together. That is all it is.”

  “Lorraine, that mon is nay looking at ye as if ye were his childhood friend.”

  “Truly?” Lorraine looked wary yet hopeful as she looked at Bethoc for some response.

  “Truly,” Bethoc said. “Now let us get back in there. I dinnae want to miss this.”

  “Walter is terribly upset,” whispered Lorraine.

  “He is probably an honest mon and his name has now been smeared by what these fools made him a part of.”

  Bethoc opened the door to see a pale-faced sheriff staring at Walter. It looked as if the man was finally seeing the full cost of the games he played. It reached far wider than the death of three women, something she doubted bothered the man at all. What he was beginning to see was how deeply it appalled others.

  “Walter . . .” the sheriff began.

  “Nay, dinnae call me that. ’Tis only my friends who have the right and ye are nay longer counted amongst that number. My God, ye have put blood on my hands! Innocent blood! Ye used me to help ye play this vicious game and I curse ye for that. Now, tell me who set ye on this ruinous path,” the magistrate said in a voice that held all of his authority.

  “Angus Keddie,” said the sheriff in a sad whisper.

  “Lock them up. I need to step outside. I need, I crave, fresh air.”

  Walter MacKray walked out. Lorraine looked after him with sad eyes. Laurel and Bethoc moved to flank her as Sir Simon, Callum, Uven, and Robbie started to drag the prisoners out. They each elbowed Lorraine lightly.

  “What?” Lorraine asked but she could not keep her eyes on them, instead she constantly looked in the direction the young magistrate had gone.

  “He would welcome a friend right now,” Bethoc said. “A shoulder to cry on.”

  “Someone to say ‘there, there,’” added Laurel.

  “Someone to say it will be fine, or get better.”

  “Aye, someone who can raise his spirits. Pat his back. Mayhap kiss his cheek.”

  Lorraine laughed. “Ye do recall that I am but a day widowed?” When she got no response from either woman, she laughed and headed out after the magistrate.

  “There. That wasnae so hard,” Bethoc said, and exchanged a grin with Laurel. “Are ye going to be all right?”

  “In t
ime. Aye, I will recover. I am thinking I might sell my lands and leave this place though.” Laurel sighed. “But there is time to think that over. Now, I fear, we must go and break the laird’s heart.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The laird of Dunburn bowed his head and slowly shook it. They had laid out the whole nasty plan and who was involved. His eldest son and heir stood behind him, his hand gripping the man’s shoulder. He too looked stunned but even as Callum watched, the look turned to one of belief, then resignation, and finally anger. It was a blow to the heart they had delivered and nothing could be said to soften it but they were not being openly argued with and the son’s face told him it all came as little surprise.

  Laurel finally moved to pour the man an ale and hand it to him. “Here, m’laird, drink.”

  “Ye were one of them, aye?” he asked as he studied her.

  “I was, aye. My husband was killed and I was accused of his murder.”

  “I am so sorry, lass. So verra sorry.”

  “Nay, if ye mean for the loss of my husband, dinnae trouble yourself. He was a brute and nay a great loss. He didnae deserve what he got, mayhap, but I willnae miss him. And none of this was your doing. ’Tis I who am sorry for what ye must do now.”

  “Laurel,” Bethoc hissed softly, “ye shouldnae speak of your husband that way.”

  “Why? ’Tis naught but the truth. I dinnae miss him.”

  “’Tis disrespectful.”

  “Weel, if he comes back and does something worthy of respect, I will give him some. For now? Huh.” When Bethoc looked up, Laurel asked, “What are ye looking for?”

  “God to strike ye down for speaking ill of the dead.”

  “Hah! It isnae God who is welcoming that mon.” She turned back to the laird who was watching them and smiling faintly. “Oh, ’tis good to see your spirits are better. The ale helped?”

  “Aye, the ale helped.”

  Callum leaned closer to Sir Simon. “They did that on purpose, aye?”

  “Aye.” Sir Simon grinned. “And they have a fine rhythm to it. The laird was buried under his grief but he is out of it enough now that we can tell our tale.”