John and Elsbeth did their best to convince Aggie that both men, and Rose, were well and safe, and that it was near impossible to get through the mountains at this time of year.
Though Aggie was beyond happy to be carrying Frederick’s child, she wished he was with her to enjoy it. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be overjoyed to learn he was going to be a father. Elsbeth tried to convince her to be happy Frederick wasn’t here. “I swear, Aggie, the man would drive ye daft with all his fussin’ and worryin’.”
Aggie thought she would rather enjoy that. When she had carried Ailrig, she had been just a young girl of three and ten and the only one there to help her was her mum. Alone, terrified and confused, it had not been the most pleasant of times. To keep Ailrig had been an easy decision. No matter who had sired him, he was hers. A gift from God, no matter how he had been conceived. She could not look at it any other way.
Though it was true she had worried that the babe would look like its father or, worse yet, behave like him. But her biggest concern was that she would have a girl child. Every day she prayed for a son, not because she thought sons were better. Nay, with a girl child, she would worry every day that what had happened to her would happen to her daughter.
Carrying Frederick’s babe was an entirely different experience. She needn’t worry if it was a girl or a boy. Either way, this child would be protected from all the evils in this world. If she had a daughter, Aggie knew that Frederick would never let the child out of his sight, he would assign a guard to watch over her all the hours of the day and night. At least until she married.
And now, she worried that Frederick would not live to see their babe. She worried that something awful had happened to him while he searched for Donnel and Clair. There was, she knew, no sense in worrying over Mermadak. By now, he most certainly had succumbed to the disease that had plagued him for more than a year.
Nay, she worried over Donnel and Clair. Frederick would not return until he found the two of them and made certain that neither of them could ever harm Aggie or his family ever again.
It was nice living in a warm keep during the cold winter months. Ailrig was growing taller and stronger with each passing day. He was very protective of Aggie and quite proud that he would be a big brother come spring.
Though he was growing bigger and older, he was still Aggie’s little lad, her wee little man. He slept with her each night, under the guise that he was there to keep her safe. He still had his wooden sword, which he clung to whilst he slept next to Aggie.
One day faded into the next and into the next. Her stomach grew, her babe began to kick and turn and grow. And still, no word from Frederick.
FREDERICK MISSED HIS wife, but he knew that as long as she was ensconced on Mackintosh lands, she would be safe. Well, as long as the Camerons didn’t attack. The Mackintoshes and Camerons had been feuding for decades, but Frederick still felt better knowing she was with his family than here, with him.
They had found Mermadak’s body, or what was left of it, some twenty miles away from the keep. What the wolves and scavengers had left behind, they had been able to identify only by the color of his hair and his soot-covered clothing.
Frederick and Ian buried him in an unmarked grave where they found him. Frederick hadn’t believed in true evil until he met Mermadak McLaren and Eduard Bowie. Before these men had entered his life, he had been of the mind that there was no truly evil person who graced this earth, only men who, for whatever reason or force, had left any goodness in their souls behind them. No one was born evil, they were simply made that way by outside forces.
Eduard Bowie, he fervently believed, had been born evil. Mermadak, by unknown forces, had become evil. Now, the world was minus two of the most immoral and heinous individuals he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Frederick prayed that he’d never come across anyone like either of these men again.
While Frederick, Ian, Eggar and a handful of other men combed the countryside looking for any sign of Donnel or Clair, Rose stayed behind combing through what remained of the keep. Additionally, she set up a makeshift camp for those McLarens who stayed behind. Working day and night, she tended to the injured, cooked for the men, and made certain their clothes were clean. In general she was doing all those things she had done before, but now it was mostly done out of doors.
Before winter set in, they managed to convert the granary to makeshift housing. Using stones from the keep, they constructed a large fireplace for cooking and heating and added a second floor loft for sleeping. Realizing it would not be big enough to house everyone who had stayed behind, they set to work adding on to the granary a large gathering room that would work as a dining area by day and sleeping quarters by night.
Christmastide came and went and still, they had not located Donnel or Clair. Eggar, in the beginning, was beside himself with grief and guilt. He blamed himself for not taking a firmer stance with this wife. “Mayhap,” he confessed to Frederick and Ian one cold afternoon. “If I had loved her better or more she would no’ have run off.”
“Eggar, I do no’ think ye should be blamin’ yerself for what yer wife did,” Frederick told him.
“Or didna do,” Ian said.
Both Eggar and Frederick cast confused expressions toward Ian. “What do ye mean,” Eggar asked.
“Well, we do no’ ken yet if Clair went off of her own accord or if Donnel took her. I saw the look on her face when Mermadak was holding her as a shield. She looked positively terrified to me. So, before ye go convictin’ her of any crimes, ye might want to make certain she’s actually committed one.”
Forty-Nine
WINTER CAME AND went, and still, no word from Frederick, Ian, or anyone else left back on McLaren lands. The handful of McLarens who had made the trek north with Aggie that past autumn had adjusted nicely to living amongst the Mackintoshes. Within weeks, they’d been comfortably absorbed into the Mackintosh clan and quite happily considered this their new home. Many had no desire to return to McLaren lands.
With each day that passed, the grief Aggie felt over not knowing how her husband fared seemed to grow exponentially with her belly.
The midwife put Aggie’s due date at the end of May. John reassured Aggie that the snow would melt and the mountains would be passable by the time her babe was born. He promised her that if they had not received word by mid-April, he would send a team of men to go in search of his son.
None of the promises or reassurances made her heart any lighter or made her worry any less. Although she tried to convince herself that Frederick and the others were too busy and the winter too harsh to send word, her heart still worried. Had all been well with them, they would have sent word by now.
The snow melted, giving way to green grass and spring rains. Ailrig thrived here, gaining weight and height. Aggie had never seen him so happy as he was here surrounded by Frederick’s family. Suddenly, the boy had more aunts and uncles and cousins than he knew what to do with. There were no dull or boring moments here, not even during the longest of winter days.
He was also learning to read and write, surpassing everyone’s expectations in that regard. The boy had a keen intellect. Aggie had known that since he was a wean. And he had proved time and again that he had a way of figuring things out that went beyond his years.
A large celebration had been given in Ailrig’s honor for his tenth birthday in February. John and Elsbeth had insisted on the grand feast and would not hear of letting the day pass without some sort of commemoration. Aggie quickly learned that while she may be his mother, grandparents often won out on certain events.
Generally, Ailrig did not enjoy having a large amount of attention focused on him. He did not like being singled out. However, he did thoroughly enjoy the special treatment given to him that day by his new family.
The Mackintosh family did everything they could to make both Aggie and Ailrig feel welcome and loved. John fussed over Aggie, making sure she ate and was comfortable. He had an ornately ca
rved cradle made just for her babe. After going through trunks of clothes from her own babes, Elsbeth began sewing new garments for Aggie’s babe using soft, luxurious fabrics. Aggie reckoned that between she and Elsbeth, her babe would probably outgrow many things before he or she even had a chance to wear them.
March came and went. As he had promised months ago, on the fifteenth of April, John sent a team of men back to McLaren lands. “Either bring back word or me sons, but do no’ come back empty handed,” John had warned the fifteen men before they set off in search of his missing sons.
Knowing it would be weeks before the men returned, it still gave Aggie some measure of relief to know they were doing something. Had she not been so heavy with child, she would have gone in search of her husband herself.
Adjusting to life here was far easier than she would have imagined. They wanted for nothing, though nothing was wasted or taken for granted either. Thanks was given at each meal and attending services in the kirk on a daily basis was expected and no excuses other than war or imminent death were allowed in missing them.
Aye, Aggie and Ailrig and the other McLarens were adjusting to life here quite nicely. Still, Aggie’s heart longed for Frederick’s return, or, at the very least, word that he was quite fine and still amongst the living.
ROSE HAD WAITED until spring before making any further attempts at going through what remained of the keep. Donning a pair of old trews and a tunic each morn, she would wind her way through the keep in search of things they might need.
There was not much left of the keep, let alone contents that could be salvaged, save for a few pieces of furniture that they could use for firewood. Rose had managed to recover a few dresses and articles of clothing for those that had remained behind.
Thankfully, on the day she had mustered the courage to venture above stairs, Rose rifled through one of the trunks from Aggie’s bedchamber. Most of Aggie’s and Frederick’s belongings had been destroyed or were too damaged with smoke and soot to be repaired. But there were two things in that trunk that were worth keeping; the necklace and the comb. Rose tucked them into the pockets of the heavy apron she wore, closed the lid to the trunk and made her way back downstairs.
Carefully, she cleaned the items in a pail of sudsy water. The comb fared better than the necklace, but all in all, she knew Aggie would be very grateful to at least have these things. But knowing Aggie as she did, she knew Aggie was more interested in getting her husband back than old baubles and would gladly trade her husband for the keepsakes.
A week later, she ventured into Mermadak’s old office. Remarkably, most of his things were still intact, though covered with soot and grime. Not even the devil wishes to play with Mermadak McLaren, Rose mused as she sifted through his things.
Her skin turned to gooseflesh when she found the belt and the cut through he liked to use on his victims. They hung on the wall, where he always kept them, right behind his desk. It was meant to be a reminder to anyone who might try to stand up to him or cross him, that he was not above beating the devil out of a person as a form of punishment.
Her skin grew colder as she continued to look around the room. Even though the man was dead, she could still feel his presence. She very much did believe in ghosts and began to wonder if Mermadak wasn’t lingering around now, haunting the ruins of the keep. When she could take no more and was ready to flee the room and seek the safety and warmth of Ian’s arms, something about the fireplace mantle caught her eye.
More intrigued than frightened, she made her way across the debris strewn floor. As she lifted her hand to inspect the mantle, the painting that had hung above it for decades gave way and came crashing down.
Rose didn’t bother to inspect further. As her heart pounded in her chest, she fled the room as fast as her feet would take her.
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, her intrigue over the mantle still piqued, she convinced Ian to go to Mermadak’s old rooms with her. Ian did not believe in ghosts or faeries or brownies or witches. But once he entered the room and felt his own skin grow cold, he began to have second thoughts on his preconceived ideas.
“Yer right, Rose,” he whispered as he held her hand. “Something evil be here.”
Rose nodded an I told ye so in his direction and walked with him to the mantle. She thought it odd that the closer they got to the mantle, the colder the air in the room seemed. By the time they reached it, she would have sworn she could see her own breath. She did not want Ian to let go of her hand. When he did, she grabbed the back of his tunic and held on for dear life.
“Yer right, Rose,” he said as he ran his hand along the large wooden mantle. “It does look odd.” Delicately, he ran his hand along the front of the mantle, noticing that it looked as though the front portion of it had come loose, away from the rest of the mantle.
Rose’s heart was pounding in her chest as she watched Ian inspect the mantle. Paying no mind to anything else around her, she didn’t notice the large black rat until after it ran across her boot.
Screaming and jumping simultaneously, she fell into Ian’s back, pushing him into the mantle. A very startled Ian held onto the mantle with both hands and let loose a scream of his own. He spun around and Rose flew into his arms, pressing herself against him so hard that she nearly climbed right inside the poor man.
“What?” he yelled as he looked about the room, thinking she had either seen a ghost or a madman with an axe who was about to do them both in.
Her throat had gone terribly dry, her hands and legs shook, and her heart had leapt out of her chest and ran for the hills. “A r-rat!” she stammered.
Ian let out the breath he’d been holding in one large whoosh. “Ye have a fondness fer scarin’ the life out of me, don’t ye?” he asked with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.
“It ran over me foot!”
Several retorts hung on the tip of his tongue, such as better yer foot than yer hair—he knew that would keep her up all night long with worry. Or, better a rat than Mermadak’s ghost. He knew too that that comment would earn him a kick in the shins and several sleepless nights. Instead, he asked “Are ye well?”
She shook her head nay. “I tell ye, this place be haunted.”
Ian was not so sure that she wasn’t right. He placed a hand on her arm and began to lead her out of the room. “Come, let us leave this place before we end up dead from fright alone.”
Rose happened to glance at the mantle as they stepped away. “Wait!” she exclaimed as she stared at the mantle. “Look!”
Ian turned around to see what had gained her attention. There it was. The front of the mantle had come open. The entire length of it was a drawer and it had opened several inches. Ian stepped forward and pulled the drawer open.
Inside were dozens upon dozens of letters, bundled together in stacks, wrapped with twine. There were also several books and several leather pouches. A rush of wind came twirling into the room when he lifted out the letters. It brought gooseflesh to his skin. He handed the letters to Rose. He pulled out the journals, three in all, and tucked them under his arm. He lifted the first pouch and heard the telltale jingle of coin. Lots of coin if its weight were any indication. There were at least a dozen such pouches, each all weighing about the same.
Rose held out her apron, placed the letters into it and Ian tossed the pouches on top. The wind picked up and twirled all around them, lifting bits of debris and dust. Rose held the heavy apron against her bosom, took hold of Ian’s hand, and together, they left the cold, windy room.
“I’ll never step foot in there again,” Rose said as they made their way out of the keep.
Ian didn’t need any convincing to agree.
FREDERICK SAT MUTE atop a bench in front of the fireplace in the granary, shaking his head in disbelief. For hours, they had been pouring over the letters and journals. At the moment, he wasn’t sure which stunned him more; the information the letters and journals held, or the fact that Ian had just found bags of coins that when counted, tot
aled more than ten thousand groats. It was enough money to rebuild the keep ten times over.
While his clan had been sacrificing, going without baths, firewood, and decent food, Mermadak McLaren had been sitting on a fortune.
Ian and Rose were just as stunned and befuddled as Frederick.
Not only were they as rich as kings or thieves, they now had answers to questions they hadn’t even known existed until reading the letters and journals. Frederick supposed the most important thing he had learned that night was the reason why Mermadak hated Aggie with such a vengeance.
“What will ye do?” Ian asked as he stared at the bounty laid before them.
Frederick shook his head in dismay. “I’ll need to tell Aggie.”
“Of course,” Ian agreed as he stretched his long legs out. “How do ye think she’ll react?”
Frederick let out a long, heavy sigh. “I dunna ken.”
“She’ll handle it with grace, dignity and strength, just as she’s always done,” Rose told them as she sat beside Ian.
“Aye,” Frederick said. “That much I am certain of.”
They sat quietly for a time, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
“Frederick,” Rose said. “We’ve not seen hide nor hair of Donnel or Clair in months.”
“Nay, we have no’. At this point, I doubt we’ll ever see either of them again. But I do no’ think I’ll ever be able to feel peace unless we find them.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Rose, one she didn’t like to think let alone give voice to. But she knew she must. “Ye do no’ think they followed Aggie, do ye?”
Frederick’s brow furrowed, his expression turning to worry.
“I’d put nothin’ past either of them Frederick,” Rose added, her voice filled with concern.
Frederick knew she was right. “We leave at first light.”
Fifty
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 48
