Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  Ailrig remained silent as he took the tray from Ian. His throat had gone dry, but he knew he must push forward if there was any hope of finding Frederick or saving his neck.

  Peter carefully opened the door and gave Ailrig a reassuring pat on his back. “If anyone can do this, it’s ye, ye little beastie,” he said playfully, hoping to ease the boy’s fears.

  Ailrig nodded and stepped through the door. He focused on not dropping the tray and not tripping as he took several tentative steps forward. The area was very dark for several steps in. He peeked his head around a corner and was relieved to see several lit torches lining the wall and the staircase down.

  He’d only been in the McLaren dungeon once, more than a year ago. And even though that dungeon had been empty, he could still smell death and decay, and it had left him with nightmares for weeks after.

  This dungeon was far different that the McLaren’s, he could sense it as he descended the narrow staircase. The smell of urine, blood and tangible fear wafted through the staircase. Ailrig caught the faint whiff of something that reminded him of dead rabbits. It assaulted his senses and made him want to turn around and run away.

  By the time he reached the bottom, he knew in his bones that more than death took place here. Something dark and sinister, though he couldn’t see it, he could bloody well feel it. It made his skin feel cold, clammy and he had the sensation of hundreds of wooly worms crawling about his skin. He made a silent vow never to step foot in another dungeon as long as he lived.

  As he rounded the last curve of the staircase, he could see a wide open area. A gusty breeze floated across his skin, but he couldn’t fathom from where it came. They were too far below ground for it to come from any windows. He shuddered when his mind led him to believe it was the ghosts of all the men he was certain had died here. He paused, trying to push away the fear and take mental notes of the interior as Ian and Peter had instructed him to do.

  In the center of the room were tables and chairs, but not anything like he was used to seeing. They had wide leather straps and chains attached to them, but for what purpose, he dared not even try to imagine.

  Dark cells lined three corners of the large room and he was certain he heard the faint sound of someone crying. It chilled him to his core and again, he had the sudden urge to flee or wet his pants. Nausea and fear tumbled in his stomach as he did everything he could not to faint. Repeatedly, he told himself he’d only be here a few short moments. He had to do this for both his mother and his father.

  He caught sight of two Bowie men as he looked away from the cells. Both men were dressed entirely in black. One of them, a tall looking blonde man, sat in a chair with his arms folded across his chest and he appeared to be sleeping.

  The other man, with hair nearly as black as the clothing he wore, stood in front of one of the cells. He was speaking to someone on the other side of the bars, but Ailrig couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying.

  Ailrig wanted out of this place as quickly as possible. He took a step forward, his feet scraping against the cold stone floor. The skinny blonde continued to sleep, but the dark man turned to look at him.

  “Who are ye?” he demanded. His voice was deep, menacing, and it made Ailrig’s skin crawl.

  Ailrig fought to find his voice. “Robby,” he finally choked out. “Mrs. MacGavin’s grandson.” He took a deep breath and tried to push the fear away. “She sent a tray fer ye. Said she knew ye’d been workin’ hard.”

  The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment. Finally, he stepped away from the cell and kicked at the blonde man’s chair. “Wake up ye eejit,” he said. “Mrs. MacGavin’s grandson be here.”

  The blonde man opened his eyes and looked around. “Who the bloody hell is Mrs. MacGavin?” he asked curiously as he stood and stretched his arms.

  “That’s what I’d like to ken,” the dark man said as he continued toward Ailrig.

  Ailrig felt his heart fall to his stomach as the men approached. Ailrig swallowed back the fear and the bile that came with it. “She works in the kitchens,” he stammered.

  “Yer grand mum ye say?” the dark man asked.

  Ailrig nodded his head violently. “Aye.”

  “Who be yer mum?” the blonde asked.

  “Me mum is dead,” Ailrig said as the tray began to shake in his hands.

  The men stared at him for a long moment. Menacing, ugly expressions written on their faces. Finally, the dark man threw his head back and laughed. “I think we’ve nearly scared the piss out o’ the wee beastie!”

  The blonde chuckled as he took the tray from Ailrig’s trembling hands. “Tell yer grand mum we said thank ye,” he said as he walked away. “Now be gone with ye, before Charles here straps ye to one of these tables and shows ye the kind of thing that happens to the men who end up in dungeons.”

  Ailrig didn’t wait for further explanation. He turned and raced up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.

  HOPE OF FREEDOM was as elusive as sleep, water or food. Between the agonizing pain in his feet and wrists, and the taunting of the guards, there was very little opportunity, let alone hope, to sleep. He had stopped asking for water hours ago and found himself hoping the guards would douse him with more water again so that he could at least have some moisture in his mouth.

  Time no longer had meaning as he faded in and out of awareness. His thoughts centered around what would happen to Aggie and Ailrig after his inevitable death, for he was certain he would not live much longer. He would be dead long before the Bowie’s messengers reached his father.

  Eduard had left him hanging from the wall with his outstretched arms shackled and his feet still encased in the Whore’s Bath. It was all he could do not to scream out and beg to have his throat cut. If he tried to relieve the pain in his wrists by attempting to stand to take the pressure off the wrist shackles, his feet would scream in agony. There was no hope for any kind relief no matter what he did. So he hung there, nearly all hope lost and in more pain than he could ever remember experiencing.

  For a moment, he thought he heard the sound of Ailrig’s voice floating into his cell. He shook the thought away when the lad said his name was Robby. Fool, Frederick chastised himself. Ye be so desperate fer help that yer ready to believe Ailrig has arrived to rescue ye.

  His vision began to blur as he fought to remain awake. If he went too limp, his feet would twist awkwardly against the steel plates as his wrists would pull too tautly against the shackles. He was certain that several bones in his right hand were broken and the entire arm had gone numb long ago.

  He tried to remain as alert as he could by thinking of his wife. Ian would see to it that she and Ailrig were taken care of by taking them to his father’s clan. Ian would see to it that they were safe, that Ailrig would grow to be a fine man. Ian would also see to it that no harm ever befell Aggie again. Mayhap, his brother would even find her a suitable husband someday.

  His heart began to ache with the thought of another man taking his place. He had promised Aggie that he’d never leave her, that he would always be there for her. What he hadn’t been able to see was the depths of Mermadak McLaren’s hatred toward his own daughter. Frederick hadn’t believed that a man could be so consumed with hatred and depravity. It had been a tremendous miscalculation on his part. It was one of the many regrets that he would take to his grave.

  He would regret not telling Aggie what was truly in his heart. He would regret never taking the chance to kiss her, to caress her face, to ask her to trust him enough to allow him to show her that joining with a man could be a beautiful and wondrous experience. He had been too much a coward to do any of those things. If he had to do it all over again, he would do many things differently.

  With his heart filled with longing and regret, he closed his eyes and pictured his wife’s beautiful smile. Somehow when he thought of her smile, so warm and bright, it gave him a sense of peace. Mayhap death was closer than he had imagined.

  THEY HAD WAITED close to
half an hour before daring to send Ailrig back down the stairs into the dungeon. If the guards were not fast asleep by now, he would simply tell them he was there to retrieve their tray. Aggie prayed the fools had succumbed quickly to the sleeping draught she had put in their tankards. Hopefully, they would be able to get Frederick out before the guards awoke or anyone came to check on them.

  Ailrig tiptoed down the staircase, the odd sensation of wooly worms and death caressing his skin again. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw the two guards were passed out on the floor. He raced back up the stairs to deliver the news.

  Aggie took the stairs as fast as she could, praying the entire way down that Frederick was still alive. They stepped over the sleeping guards and began peering into each of the cells.

  “God’s bones!” Ian exclaimed when he saw his brother hanging from the wall.

  Aggie, Peter and Ailrig raced to his side. Aggie gasped when she saw her husband for the first time. Her hands shook with a blend of fear and anger as Peter searched the guards for a key to the cell.

  Aggie rushed past him before he had the door completely open and came to an abrupt halt. The shock at seeing his black and swollen eye was not nearly as gut wrenching as seeing him hanging on the wall as if he were a crucifix. “Frederick,” she whispered, afraid to touch him for fear she’d find him cold and lifeless. But relief consumed her when he lifted his head.

  An odd expression fell over his face, as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Ian and Peter quickly began undoing the shackles. “It canna be,” Frederick mumbled.

  “Aye, ye fool,” Ian said halfheartedly. “We be here to save yer sorry arse.”

  “Be careful!” Aggie warned when she saw her husband wince in pain. “He could have broken bones.”

  Peter bent low, thinking Frederick’s feet were simply shackled to the wall. He grimaced and cursed when he realized Frederick’s feet were encased in some kind of device. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he tried to figure out how to free his friend’s feet. He twisted the screws to the right and Frederick sucked in a deep breath. Peter cursed again when he realized he had tightened the screw instead of loosening it. “Hold him up,” Peter directed Ian as he set about freeing the feet.

  Moments later, with his hands and feet free, Frederick collapsed into his brother’s arms. “God’s bones, what has he done to ye?” Ian asked as he fought to keep his brother from falling to the floor.

  “I’ll save that story for another time,” Frederick mumbled. “Fer now, I think I’d like to leave.”

  Ian twisted himself around and slung Frederick’s arm over his shoulder. “Can ye walk?”

  Frederick shook his head. “Feet, broken,” he answered, sucking in another deep breath when he tried to stand.

  “Damn,” Aggie muttered as she looked at Ian and Peter. “He’ll never make it through the tunnels like this! Ye canna carry him all the way.”

  “Well, what do ye suggest we do, Aggie?” Ian said frustratedly.

  Frederick lifted his head and stared at her. “Aggie?” he asked, not fully believing it was actually his wee wife standing before him. He looked her up and down once, closed his eyes tightly before opening them again.

  “Aye,” she said as she tried to think of a way out. “’Tis me.” No longer able to resist the urge to hold him, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’ve come to take ye home,” she told him.

  “How?” he asked.

  Aggie had to come up with a solution to get him out of here and quickly. She had made several contingency plans for all manner of scenarios. None of them had included having to drag or carry her husband out. There was little time to waste thinking of new strategies.

  Stepping away from Frederick, she went to Ailrig and knelt before him. “Ailrig,” she said as he took his arms in her hands. “Do ye remember the way out? Back to where Rose awaits?”

  Black curly locks bounced as he nodded his head aye. Aggie could see the fear and worry in his eyes, but she was again left with very few choices.

  “Good,” she said, giving his arms a gentle squeeze. “I need ye to find yer way back to Rose. Tell her to meet us near the gates by the loch. Bring all the rope we have. Stay to the shadows, son, but go quickly.”

  Ian voiced his concern. “Aggie, ye canna send a lad of nine on such a task!”

  Aggie turned to look up at him. “Would ye like to go and have Peter and me try to carry Frederick out of here?” she asked pointedly.

  From the expression on his face, she could tell he agreed that would be impossible. Peter stepped forward and removed a dirk from his waist. “Ailrig, take this. Do no’ be afraid to use it, lad. Remember what Rognall taught ye.”

  Ailrig nodded his head as he took the dirk and tucked it into his belt. “Aggie,” he said softly. “Tell Frederick no’ to die on us. Ye be his wife. Ye can order him to do such a thing, aye?”

  Aggie smiled in agreement. “Aye, I can and I shall. Now go, and be quick!”

  Ailrig gave a final look to each of the people before racing away.

  Aggie stood and turned back to the men. “Frederick, I ken ye be in a great amount of pain. I promise we’ll do all we can no’ to cause ye further distress. I’ll be needin’ ye to listen and do exactly as I say, without question.”

  “How?” he asked again.

  “How what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “How did ye find me? How did ye get into this keep? How did ye overpower the guards? How did ye ken I was here?” He swallowed hard and gave his head another shake as if he still could not believe they were here.

  “’Tis a long story that we do no’ have time for. If ye promise no’ to die on me, I shall tell ye the whole of it after we’re away from this place.” She pressed a hand to his cheek before turning away. “This could get ugly, lads, but there be only one way out now.”

  IT HAD TAKEN them nearly an hour to make their way out of the dungeon, out of the keep and to the northern wall. Ian and Peter had tried to help Frederick along by draping his arms over their shoulders and dragging him. After some time, Ian had lost all patience and ended up tossing Frederick over his shoulder as they crossed the rear yard.

  Once they arrived at the wall, Ian set Frederick on the ground, wiped the sweat from his brow and took a few moments to catch his breath. Aggie tugged on Peter’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Can ye throw yer ropes up and around the merlon?”

  Peter looked up at the crenellated wall and studied it for a moment. The wall was a good thirty feet tall from this side. However, he knew from when they first approached the keep, that there was a good eighty foot drop into the moat. Even if he could manage to get his rope wrapped around the merlon, the drop into the moat would likely kill them.

  “Aggie,” he began to protest.

  Aggie knew they could not afford the time to discuss the matter. She took Ian’s rope from his shoulder and began tying it to Peter’s. The longer they remained inside this keep, the greater the risk they’d be found. After she had what she considered a good, strong knot, she began looping the rope around her arm. “I ken the drop looks deadly at best,” she began to explain as softly as she could. “But the moat is no’ nearly as deep here as it is on the other side. It just be wider here.”

  In the darkness, she could hear Ian and Peter each sigh in disbelief. Frederick was quietly resting against the wall, too injured to voice any protests. Aggie was not ready to give up now.

  Cautiously, Aggie hugged the wall and took a few steps away in hopes of finding a better way out. Less than fifty feet away, two guards stood watch on the upper walkway of the wall. Two more stood an equal distance in the opposite direction. There was no other way out, other than the way they’d come in and that was not a viable option.

  She went back to Peter and quickly explained the situation to him. “Peter, we’ve no time left. We canna go back. If we wait much longer, dawn will arrive and we’ll be found.” She prayed she was able to c
onvince him to at least try.

  Peter took a deep breath, took a few steps away from the wall, and prayed he’d make his mark on the first attempt. If he failed, someone might hear and all would be lost.

  As he made himself ready to toss the rope up, Aggie went to Ian and Frederick. “Ian, ye’ll need to go over the wall first. Rose will be waitin’ with more rope. I’ll wait at the top to help lower ye down. Ye tie Rose’s rope to the end and I shall pull it back up. Then we’ll lower Frederick and Peter down.”

  Ian looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. “Nay, ye go first, we’ll no leave ye behind.”

  “Yer no’ leavin’ me behind,” she explained. “I need ye to help lower Frederick down and keep him from drownin’. He isna strong enough to do it alone and I be far too small to help him.”

  Ian ground his teeth in frustration. “Bloody hell, Aggie. If anythin’ happens to ye, Frederick will have me head.”

  Aggie could appreciate his worry and prayed Frederick would live so that he could prove Ian right. This night had not turned out has she had expected and they were faced with many desperate choices. “I ken, but if we hurry, we’ll soon be away.”

  Peter came and tapped Aggie on her shoulder. “’Tis done,” he said. “I swear God himself reached down at the last minute and draped the rope around the merlon!”

  If they managed to get out of here alive and in one piece, Aggie was perfectly willing to give God all of the credit.

  With her heart pounding ferociously against her chest, Aggie watched as Ian scaled the wall first. Soon, he disappeared over the top. Time seemed to stand still as they waited, crouched in the darkness, waiting for the rope to be lowered again.

  After what seemed hours, Ian finally lowered the rope. Peter stood, made the sign of the cross, raised his eyes heavenward and mouthed a word of thanks. Next, he lifted Frederick up and over his shoulder and soon realized his friend was far heavier than he had anticipated. “God’s teeth,” he muttered as he adjusted Frederick to a more comfortable position. Aggie pressed her fingers against Frederick’s lips when he began to rouse. “Wheest, husband. Please, no’ a sound,” she pleaded. “We’ll have ye home in no time.”