by Katy Baker
“Stubborn to the end, eh?” Richard de Clare asked. “A most annoying Murray trait. Fine. Let’s go.”
Together the five of them hurried down the hillside, keeping low to avoid being seen. It was getting dark now so it wasn’t difficult to creep around the back of the building and up to one of the windows. Ewan and Richard moved forward until they were crouched underneath the window sill. Conversation came from beyond.
Ewan swallowed. Part of him was desperate to hear what Gretchen had to say. Another part of him dreaded it. He strained, trying to make out words over the pounding of his heart.
“You’re sure that’s where they’ll be camped?” said Gretchen’s companion.
“Yes. I was there when Merith gave the order. Tell your husband and the MacFarlane laird that if he wants to find the Murrays that’s where they’ll be on the eve of the battle.”
Ewan gasped, unable to believe what he was hearing. Richard de Clare indicated for them to retreat and so they left the window and moved back into a stand of trees.
“Heard enough?” de Clare asked triumphantly.
“Plenty,” Ewan muttered. He hung his head, resting a hand against a tree trunk to support himself. His thoughts whirled in confusion. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. There must be another explanation. He just couldn’t think of one.
“That’s settled then. We’ll go and arrest the two of them. They’ll face Murray justice.” He began striding back to the mill but Ewan grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
“No?” Richard de Clare frowned at him. “She’s betrayed you, Ewan. Accept it. She’s a spy and she’ll be arrested and tried as such.”
Ewan shook his head. The words he forced out were some of the hardest he’d ever uttered. “Ye’ll give away our advantage. They don’t know we’ve uncovered them. If ye arrest them, they will, and the MacFarlanes will change their strategy accordingly. It would be better to allow Gretchen to return to the castle, arrest her there and question her. That way we’ll find out the MacFarlane plans without them knowing about it.”
Richard considered his words. Then a slow smile spread across his face. “You’re right. I will look forward to ‘questioning’ her when she gets back. Come on. The sooner Merith hears of this the better.”
Ewan followed in silence as they returned to the horses and mounted up. In only moments they were riding away from the ruined mill. He glanced behind. A fire was still burning in the hearth and black smoke was rising from the chimney.
To Ewan it looked like the ashes of his dreams.
IT WAS DARK BY THE time Gretchen returned to the keep. She hadn’t meant to be gone so long but she and Darcy had fallen into talking about old times and before she knew it, the evening was wearing away. Lucky for Gretchen it was a full moon so the land about was bathed in silver light, enough to find her way by.
Holy crap, but it had been good to see Darcy. Her friend was alive and well, had a new life and was happier than Gretchen had ever seen her. Gretchen felt lighter after their meeting as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Thank you, Irene, she thought as she rode home. Thank you for bringing me here. And in return I’ll do everything I can to avert the clan war, just as you requested.
She scrabbled in the pocket of her dress for the scroll. Strange how such a tiny thing could be so important. This scroll might turn the tides of this war if she got it to Ewan in time.
Dun Carrick loomed ahead. Its turrets and towers rose black against the sky, lights twinkling in the windows. A rush of relief swept through Gretchen. She was home. Funny how it had come to feel like that so quickly.
Home? she thought. Where is my home now?
Wherever Ewan is, she answered herself.
Gretchen smiled at that. Ewan. Her Ewan. She would take the scroll to him, explain everything she and Darcy had discussed, and then together they’d speak to Merith, get Richard de Clare arrested and then approach the MacFarlanes and sue for peace. It would all be okay. Ewan would be okay. He’d stay here, with her, rather than riding to battle.
But as she neared the gates, she slowed her horse, a sudden unease filling her. More men than usual guarded the way. When she looked closer, she realized they were Richard de Clare’s men, not Ewan’s. She pulled her horse to a halt in the shadows of a cottage and watched the gate.
There was nothing to indicate that anything was wrong. No alarm calls. No shouted commands. The men were patrolling, keeping an eye on the village outside the walls and the road that approached the castle. Nothing unusual there.
But something nagged at Gretchen. Why were de Clare’s men guarding the gates?
She looked around and spotted an empty barrel sitting by the side of a shop. She hopped down off her horse, pulled the parchment from her pocket and shoved it under the barrel. If the guards decided to search her she didn’t want them finding it and taking it to de Clare. Darcy’s warning was still fresh in her mind.
This will be dangerous for you. If Richard de Clare should find out...
Straightening, she took the reins of her horse and led it towards the gates. She walked confidently, as if she had every right to be approaching the gates of Dun Carrick when dusk was well past.
The guards spotted her immediately. They straightened, hands going to weapons.
“Who goes there?”
“It’s me, Gretchen,” she called. “I’ve been out riding and lost track of time. I’ll just take my horse to the stable and then go on up to the castle.” She stepped into the light of the torches so the guards saw her face.
The guards looked at each other.
“Well, would you look at that?” one of them said. “He was right.”
The man stepped forward. He had a bald head and a scarred face which suggested he’d seen more than a fight or two in his time. He looked Gretchen up and down.
“Welcome home, Lady Gretchen. If you’d be so kind as to come with us.”
“Come with you? There’s no need to escort me to the castle. I’ll just be on my way.”
She took a step but the guard grabbed her arm.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, my lady. You’ll be coming with us.” His grip was like iron.
“Let go of me!” Gretchen growled. “Lord Ewan will hear about this!”
The guard grinned. “Lord Ewan? It was him that ordered your arrest. Now get moving!”
He all but dragged her as he began striding towards the castle, his men falling in behind. Gretchen found it difficult to walk. Her legs suddenly felt like they were made of jelly. Ewan had ordered her arrest? That couldn’t be right. This must be some sort of trick. Richard de Clare had put these men up to this. But why?
She tried getting information out of the guards as she was herded unceremoniously into the castle but none of them replied to her questions. They were hard men, used to dealing with prisoners and showed not the slightest interest in anything Gretchen had to say.
It came as something of a relief when she was dragged into the great hall. The familiar feel of the place soothed her a little, calmed the beating of her heart. But her relief lasted only a moment.
A voice drawled, “Ah, here’s our lost sheep. Where did you find her, Tom?”
Richard de Clare was sitting at the head table, flanked by Merith and Jenna. A little further along sat Ewan. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring at the table. She wanted to cry out, call his name, make him look at her but something about his dejected appearance stole her voice.
“She walked right up to the gates, sir, just like you said,” the guard replied.
He dragged her across the hall until she was standing before the head table and then let her go, moving to stand by the far wall, hands clasped in front of him. Gretchen glared at him, rubbing her arm.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Why have I been treated like this? Ewan?”
He didn’t raise his head. His hair had fallen forward and she couldn’t see his face. She turned to look at his
aunt instead.
“Jenna?”
Jenna met her gaze and Gretchen saw something flash across her face. Hurt? Uncertainty? She opened her mouth as if to speak but then shook her head and fell silent.
“What is going on here?” Richard de Clare said. “You ask that as if you have the right to demand things of us. But you gave up that right when you betrayed Clan Murray to the MacFarlanes.”
Gretchen gasped. Something cold settled in her bones. They knew! They knew she’d been to see Darcy. She had to talk quickly, explain everything, and make them see the truth.
“I haven’t betrayed anyone!” she cried. “If you’ll just listen—”
“So it wasn’t you that Ewan and I saw talking to the MacFarlane woman?”
“You and Ewan?” she glanced at Ewan who continued to stare at the table. “You followed me?”
“And heard what you told the MacFarlane whore!” de Clare snapped. “Do you deny it?”
“It’s not like that!” Gretchen hissed. “You’re twisting it. Darcy is my friend. The one I’ve been looking for! The one I came to Scotland to find. I discovered she was with the MacFarlane clan so I arranged a meeting. I’m no spy!”
She looked imploringly at Merith and Jenna but they both stared back expressionlessly. Gretchen’s mind whirled. She had to get them to believe her. It was the only chance she had of stopping this pointless war. Panic churned in her belly. She could feel her chance slipping away. Richard de Clare had outmaneuvered her.
“Ewan?” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “You don’t buy this, do you?”
At last Ewan raised his head and looked at her. The look of utter desolation in his eyes almost made her cry out.
“I was there, Gretchen,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I heard what you said. I heard you telling her where our camp would be so they would know where to attack.”
“That’s not why I told her that! I told her that so they could send messengers to parley! I’m trying to stop this war! I’m trying to save you all, damn you!”
Merith’s eyes narrowed. She spoke for the first time. “So ye admit discussing plans with this woman?”
“Yes! No! It’s not how you think. Please, listen to me. Darcy isn’t your enemy. The MacFarlanes aren’t your enemy. If you’d only send messengers, sue for peace—”
“Enough!” Richard de Clare roared. “Poison drips off your tongue, woman! I’ll hear no more of it!” He nodded to the guard waiting by the wall. “Take her to the cells.”
“No,” Ewan said suddenly. “Confine her to her room. I’ll not have her languishing in the dungeon.”
“She’s a traitor!” de Clare yelled. “And will be treated as such.”
Ewan’s hand strayed to his sword hilt. “Dinna push me on this, de Clare.”
Merith held out a hand. “Enough, both of ye! Ewan is right. The dungeon is no place for her.” She looked up, met Gretchen’s gaze. “Ye have done this clan a great wrong, Gretchen Matthews. I canna understand why ye would hurt us so when we have offered ye naught but kindness. But I’ll not have it said that the Murrays aren’t fair. Ye’ll be confined to yer room until the battle is over. Until ye can be brought to trial and a fitting punishment devised.”
Gretchen’s stomach flipped. A trial? Punishment? She looked first at Jenna and then at Ewan, hoping to find some support. But there was none. Both stared at her with hard looks in their eyes. The guard stepped forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the stairs.
“Ewan!” she shouted as she was dragged away. “You can’t believe him! Please! You know me! You know I’d never betray you! Hear me out, please!”
But Ewan didn’t respond. He just stared after her, desolation written in his eyes.
Chapter 15
GRETCHEN FLOATED IN and out of fitful slumber. She’d cried herself to sleep. Again. Since being shut in her room last night, crying was all she seemed to do. Her eyes were sore from it. Her throat ached. All she could think about was the look in Ewan’s eyes as she was led away.
Even sleep wasn’t a release. She’d been troubled by dreams where she was drowning. Ewan stood on the shore, watching her. She called out to him, reached out a hand, but he just stood there and watched as she sank beneath the surface.
She tossed and turned on the bed, half-awake, half-asleep. Oh my God, Ewan.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the ceiling. By the position of the sun she guessed it was somewhere past midday. By the door sat a tray of food, untouched. Her churning stomach meant she’d not been able to eat a thing. Rose bringing her food was the only time she saw anyone, if you didn’t count the guard outside her door who poked his head in periodically to check she was still breathing. Rose usually smiled but didn’t talk to her—obviously under instruction from Merith.
Gretchen felt like a pariah. They all thought she was a traitor. She couldn’t bear that, not after everything these people had done for her. She had to make it right. Somehow.
She forced herself to sit up and then scrubbed at her eyes. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her clothes the same as she’d been wearing yesterday. A bowl of water and a bar of soap sat on her dresser along with a fresh set of clothes in the wardrobe but Gretchen couldn’t bring herself to care about how she looked.
Forcing herself to stand, she staggered over to the window and looked out. It was raining, a gray curtain falling that obscured the valley. Was Ewan out there somewhere? Was he thinking about her?
She’d watched the army ride out at first light this morning, a long column of men and horses flying pennants and carrying spears. Ewan had ridden at their head, along with Merith and Richard. Gretchen had watched until the column had dwindled into the distance, a hard knot of dread sitting in her stomach like a bowling ball.
Would she ever see Ewan again? Would he survive the battle tomorrow?
The thought sent her heart thumping, her breathing ragged and she sat heavily on the end of the bed, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating.
Calm, she told herself. You’re no good to anyone like this.
A sound outside her door suddenly caught her attention. It had sounded like footsteps followed by a soft thud. She spun around and watched as the handle slowly turned and the door opened, a figure stepping into her room.
It was Amy.
“Och!” she cried when she saw Gretchen. “I’m so sorry!”
She crossed the room and swept Gretchen into a tight embrace. It was so good to hear a friendly voice, see a friendly face, that Gretchen found herself clinging to her friend, tears streaming suddenly down her face.
“This is all my fault!” Amy said, stepping back. There were tears in her eyes too. “Can ye ever forgive me?”
“It’s not your fault,” Gretchen said. “I agreed to our plan, remember? I knew the risks and agreed to take them.”
“But ye wouldnae have done that if it weren’t for me and my stupid scheming. Now ye’ve been branded a traitor and Ewan and Merith are riding into battle and might never come back! And it’s all my fault!” She burst into tears once more.
Gretchen guided her to the bed where they both sat down. “We’ve made a fair mess of all this, haven’t we?” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “Anyone would think we’re amateurs or something.”
Amy smiled through her tears. “Aye, amateurs. That sounds about right.”
“How did you get in here, Amy? The guard says I’m not allowed visitors.”
“Nay, yer not. But a sleeping guard willnae know any different will he? I put a sleeping draft in his ale. He’ll nay wake up for a while yet and when he does he’ll have such a bad head he’ll nay drink ever again!” Amy grinned, some of her usual fire returning. “I’m sorry I couldnae get here till now. There were so many guards around the place I daren’t risk it. But now the army’s ridden out the keep is all but deserted. We have a chance.”
“A chance? For what?”
“To get ye out of here, of course! Did ye think I�
��d let ye rot in here when I’m to blame for all of this? I’m here to help ye escape!”
Gretchen shook her head. “No, Amy. I can’t run away. I need to fix this mess. I need to do the job I was sent here for—to stop this battle. It will be a disaster, not only for the Murray clan but for the MacFarlanes too. The repercussions will last down the ages if we don’t do something.”
“But how?” Amy asked. “Ye tried talking to Merith. She didnae believe ye. And she’s never likely to whilst that snake Richard de Clare is whispering in her ear.”
“Even he won’t be able to deny it when I show them proof of his treachery. It was all a set-up, Amy. All a ploy by de Clare to get revenge on the MacFarlanes. And I can prove it.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Ye can? How?”
“I need to get out of the castle,” she said. “I need to get to the baker’s shop in the village and then I need to get to the camp unseen. If we can manage that there’s a chance.”
Amy’s expression hardened. She nodded. “Aye, we will manage it. Isabelle has horses waiting for yer escape anyway. Let’s go.”
They left Gretchen’s chamber, stepping over the softly snoring guard, and turned right, away from the great hall and towards the servant’s stairs. Amy paused at the top of a flight of steps that led downward and listened. Everything was silent. They hurried down the stairs that looped around in a tight spiral and came out at the back of the kitchen. Remarkably the kitchen was empty and Gretchen wondered if Isabelle had a hand in that—clearing the way for their escape.
They entered the yard and Gretchen pulled up her hood so it shadowed her face. Amy led the way, walking calmly so as not to draw attention. Nobody accosted them as they reached the stables and stepped inside.
“About time!” Isabelle cried, stepping out from one of the stalls. “Any longer and I think my heart might have given out! I’ve sent the stable boys on as many errands as I could come up with!” She took Gretchen’s hands. “Are ye all right? I’m mighty aggrieved at what’s happened.”
