by Adams, Alisa
Gregor felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, and his anger was so deep that he could barely contain it. Mixed with it was a feeling of heart-wrenching disappointment and sadness. His longing to see her had consumed him, and now she was gone. "Do you know where she went?" Gregor asked hoarsely. He was trying to contain his emotions.
"The rider who accompanied her was wearing the Beglin livery," the nun replied. "But if you are concerned, he seemed like a nice man. Iona's friend Andrina is still here, however. Perhaps she can tell you more." She bustled off to find Andrina, who came rushing up to them a moment later. Her face was flushed and her green eyes were shining with tears, but she kept control of herself.
"Father, Gregor!" she cried, "thank God you are here. Iona has gone."
"We heard," Columba said gently, "sit down and be at ease, Mistress Andrina. We will give you what help we may. Now tell us what happened."
Andrina sucked in several deep breaths before she spoke. "Her father sent a letter with Elisha, her maid, and—well, here it is. Read for yourself." She handed the letter to Columba, who read it through, his expression changing from one of concern to one of rage. Gregor tore it from his hands, then read it, and his face darkened just as Columba's had.
For a moment Andie thought he was going to scream with fury, but he screwed his eyes shut while Columba put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Gregor's fists were clenched tightly, and the knuckles showed white through his taut skin. "Gregor, are you quite well?" Andie asked, concerned.
Gregor nodded, recovering his composure. "I am sorry," he sounded defeated and without hope, "I just feel so helpless."
"Do not feel that way," Columba said firmly, "we will rescue her, God willing."
"How, Father?" Gregor asked, "that castle is surrounded by a ring of steel."
"We cannot fight them with weapons, but we can win with our minds." Columba's voice carried a ring of assurance, and suddenly both Gregor and Andie felt more hopeful. If any mind could do the job, it was Columba’s.
"First, we must get there," Columba reminded them, "Mistress Andrina, when did Iona go?"
"Yesterday afternoon," she replied, “on horseback, it will take, maybe two hours?”
"Hmm…" Columba frowned. "It is half a day's walk or more. If we start now we should make it by dusk."
"How do we get in?" Gregor asked, looking doubtful.
"We walk in," Columba smiled, "there are very few doors that will remain shut before a priest and a monk, Gregor. We walk in and ask for Iona and her mother."
"You make it sound so easy," Andie remarked dryly.
"No," Columba answered, "but we have God on our side. And justice and fairness."
"I am coming with you," Andie said firmly.
"But you are a woman!" Columba said, his tone faintly censorious.
Gregor laughed. "Father, remember that one of the best warriors we know is a woman!"
"Yes, Gregor," Columba said, "but Alexa Chevalier is an exception. With respect, Andrina, you are not an Alexa. She is one of a kind."
"I am coming with you," Andie said stubbornly.
"I think it is better if you do not," Gregor's voice was gentle, and his expression one of concern, "it may be dangerous."
Andrina sighed. "I want to come because of Cameron," she answered, her gaze dropping to the floor.
"You love him?" Gregor asked, surprised.
"He loves me and I will marry him if he asks me," she hesitated. "Love him? I do not know."
Gregor took her by the shoulders. "Stay here, Mistress Andrina," he urged, "there is no point in coming if there is nothing you can do." Andie saw the wisdom in this but it still hurt. She felt useless. Gregor saw the look on her face. "I know how you feel," he said, "but trust me, Andie. It is better this way. I will send a messenger for you when you are needed, as you no doubt will be."
Andie began to weep and Gregor put his arms around her, then gave her a little kiss on the forehead. "I will bring her back, Andie," he said, with more confidence than he felt, "I love her, and I will bring her back if I die trying." Andie nodded. Ten minutes later she was waving them goodbye. She was hoping for the best, but she expected the worst.
23
Meeting on the Road
Auguste had been summoned back to Beglin Castle for more silk. He did not ask why—it was all business and all to the good. Soon he would employ salesmen to do this for him, but for his first trip with the new commodity, it was better to do it himself. He wondered what had happened to the first dress. Perhaps Iona liked it so much she wanted another. He hoped so, for then his fame would spread. Presently, as he came over a little rise in the road, he saw two figures walking in front of him, one much taller than the other. They were both wearing monastic habits, and Auguste was surprised, as he drew near, to see that they were Gregor and Columba.
"Mon Père! Gregor!" he cried delightedly. "Ça va? How goes it"
"Ça va bien, Auguste, et tu?" Gregor replied, "well, Auguste, and you?"
"Bien aussi, mes amis," he answered, "well also, my friends. Are you going to the castle?"
Columba nodded but kept his answer vague. The fewer people who knew his business the better, but he had a feeling that Auguste was going to find out very soon. "We were summoned by the bride and her mother," Columba answered, "some private matter rather too important to be written down." Then he decided to take a chance. Auguste was a good man and might be able to help them. “Then again,” Columba mused, “you may be able to help us. Three sets of hands are better than two if you are willing.”
He looked at Auguste with a question in his eyes.
Auguste frowned. "I will tell you why I am here first. They need more silk, but I have no idea why. I sold them some before for a betrothal dress, but this dress is to be made very close to the wedding. It seems - strange. Perhaps it is for the bride's mother, or for her friend. Or perhaps they were so delighted with it they wanted more!" He shrugged and smiled. “Have you met the bride before?"
"Yes," Gregor replied, trying to keep his voice level, "she is lovely."
“This is the situation.” Columba began to speak and outlined what had happened to Iona. “She is being married to a man she loathes, and Gregor is fond of her. We would like to rescue her.”
At that moment, a big man in a chainmail vest and helmet mounted on a sturdy gray horse came into sight, cantering towards them. He was wearing the Beglin livery and acknowledged them with a wave as he sped past them.
"Business for the Laird, no doubt," Auguste commented, then frowned. "I have to admit he was never one of my favorite people and after what you have told me, I dislike him even more."
"I don't think he is anyone's favorite person," Columba remarked, "but there is good and bad in everyone. Somewhere there is a spark of charity inside him."
"Hmm…" Gregor's voice was cynical. "I think you put too much faith in people, Father."
Columba gave him a gentle smile. "Perhaps," he acknowledged, "but I prefer it that way. Most people have a spark of goodness if you look hard enough."
Gregor looked at him sideways but said nothing. Columba had more goodness in his little finger at that moment than Gregor would ever have in his whole life.
Gavin, the rider who had collected Elisha from St. Gertrude's Convent, had been so disgusted by the Laird's conduct toward the old lady that he had taken her to shelter with his own family till she could find somewhere else to live. She had a few possessions of her own which she had been allowed to retrieve from the castle, among which was some money, not much, but enough to last a few months if she was frugal. She gave it to the family for her keep and was rewarded by the look on Gavin's wife Sheena's shining face. After that, she became part of the family. She was worried about both Iona and Donalda, but especially Donalda. Her mistress would be worrying about where she had gone and if she was well. If she had known what the Laird's plans were for her, Elisha would not have come back at all, but at least in Gavin and Sheena's house, she
was close by the castle.
In payment for their kindness, she helped them to nurse Gavin's father, who was slowly dying of consumption. On the day before Gregor, Columba and Auguste were on their way to the castle, Gavin had taken it upon himself to go and see the prisoners. He explained the situation to the guard, who had an elderly mother himself, and was allowed in to see the three of them.
At first, they looked shocked and hostile, but as Gavin began to explain Donalda started to weep with joy. "She is quite safe, milady," he assured her, "and my wife an' bairns love her like the granny they dinnae have ony mair."
"Thank you," Donalda said fervently, "you are a good, good man. But if I may trespass one more moment on your generosity?"
"I will dae what I can, milady," Gavin replied.
Donalda hesitated, then began to speak. As she did so, Cameron's and Iona's eyes widened with shock, and they listened with a mixture of disbelief, and anger. The story was one that Donalda had never told, and never wanted to tell anyone, least of all her children. It was being wrung out of her by sheer desperation.
“Dinnae worry, Milady,” Gavin assured her, "yer secret is safe wi' me, an' I will deliver the message as soon as I can. Yer husband is a wicked, evil-hearted man and doesnae deserve even ane bit o' kindness." His pleasant face was full of indignation.
"How will you get out?" Iona asked. "They will not just let you take a horse."
"I hae a dyin’ father. I will be goin' tae his sickbed, mistress" He looked at Donalda again. "It is naethin’ but the truth. Goodbye Milady. I will ride as fast as I can."
As soon as he was gone, Cameron and Donalda rounded on their mother. "Why did you not tell us?" Cameron demanded. "Did you not think we had a right to know?"
Iona said nothing, but the look of rage on her face said it all.
"I was ashamed," Donalda whispered, then went to her mattress and curled up in a ball, weeping quietly.
Cameron was about to say something, but Iona put a hand on his arm. "Later," she said, "I am angry too, but we all need to calm down." She looked at Donalda and felt pity creep into the anger in her heart.
Cameron sighed and paced up and down the cell for a few moments. What he had just heard had not only shocked him but made sense of a few things that he had never fully understood before. Whatever else happened at the wedding, there would be a reckoning. He would make sure of it.
24
A Short Release
Columba, Gregor and Auguste arrived at the castle around midday. They were greeted by one of the guards who directed them to the butler. In a moment the Laird himself came out to meet them, beaming all over his face. "Ah, Monsieur Chevalier!" he said expansively, "how good of you to come! And who are these gentlemen?" He turned to Gregor and Columba. "I am Laird Craig McCallum at your service, Fathers."
"Father Columba McCarthy," Columba gave his most dignified bow.
"I am afraid you are elevating me to a rank I do not deserve, m'laird," Gregor told him, "I am but a humble brother."
"I apologize," Craig laughed, "come and take some wine with me before we do anything else." He led them into his office, inwardly panicking about how he was going to get his family out of the dungeon if need be without them blabbing. He especially did not want Donalda, with her disgusting maimed face, to be seen. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Father, Brother?" He asked pleasantly. "It is a rare thing for a priest to pay a social call."
"I know your daughter," Gregor said, smiling as he sipped his wine. "I would like to make her acquaintance again. And we both wanted to see the chapel in your castle if you do not mind. It is famed for its beauty."
"My grandfather built it," Craig said, obviously proud of his grandfather and his handiwork, "it has been embellished over the years. My daughter will be married there in two days.
“The dress," Auguste said, "may I give the silk to Iona?"
"I will call her." Craig smiled. "She and the seamstress can discuss it together."
"What happened to the other dress?" Auguste asked.
"It was being ironed by one of the housemaids and was burnt," Craig said, sighing with obvious regret, shaking his head. "The staff is not what it used to be. Excuse me a moment while I call Iona." He got up and went out, leaving Columba and Gregor alone.
"He must be going to free her," Gregor said bitterly. "I wish I could get five minutes alone with that…" he uttered an oath so foul that Columba stopped his ears.
"There is nothing we can do for the moment," he said, "so wait, Gregor. Do not let your anger get the better of you. Remember we said that we would win with our wits?"
Gregor took a deep breath and nodded. His hands were clenched into fists again.
When Craig went down to the dungeon it was to find Donalda curled up in bed, and the two others sitting at the table playing chess. Iona had suggested it as a way of diverting their minds from the shock of the announcement their mother had just made. When Craig appeared, he was greeted by stares of such hate that he shuddered inwardly, but he unlocked the cell door.
"Iona, come with me," he ordered, "Donnie, get to your room. I'll have a guard posted. Cam, stay here until I let you out."
"Father," Cameron said, pulling Craig towards him by his shirt, "when I get out of here I will make you very, very sorry. Mother told us your secret, so have a care."
For a moment, Craig stared into eyes so fierce that he quailed, but he was determined not to show it and, wrenched himself away. There was a guard standing behind Craig protecting him but Cameron was several inches taller and more intimidating than his father.
"Whatever you say, I can deny it," he replied scathingly, "your mother made that up. She is mad. And remember that I have an army of guards. I can kill all three of you any time I choose to do so."
"You would kill your family just to hold onto your estate?" Cameron asked in disbelief. Craig made no answer, then the guard slammed the door shut and Cameron was left to himself, seething with rage.
While the altercation had been going on Iona had taken the chance to run along the corridor, sprint up the stairs and into her father's office. She had a few seconds' grace, and she used it to kiss Gregor fiercely before calmly going to pour herself a goblet of wine.
Gregor was stunned but delighted. That kiss had been very different from the previous ones. He put his fingertips to his lips as if to seal the kiss onto them, and his cheeks flushed.
"How good to see you again, Auguste!" Iona gushed. "I was devastated when my dress was ruined. That beautiful silk. I will show these to Pauline as soon as possible."
At that moment the door burst open and Craig almost fell into the room. He looked at their startled faces and smiled in a sickly fashion, but made no excuse for his abrupt entrance. "We have only two days till the wedding," Iona went on, bestowing a charming smile around all of them. "Would you all like to stay as my guests? After all, we have plenty of room. I think we can squeeze in a few more, Father, eh? We have another - what - fifty bedrooms to spare?”
At that moment Craig could cheerfully have strangled his daughter. She had now made it impossible for him to imprison them again. And he had to acquiesce with her invitation. But how could he get her to keep her mouth shut?
"Of course, you must stay!" He opened his arms. "All are welcome and I am sure we can find you all a room each. I am certain that a spare priest will come in very handy—there are always many confessions to be heard after a wedding."
They all laughed, and then Iona took the silk swatches from Auguste.
"I regret I have only two colors left," he said sadly. "There is a lilac one and a peach."
"Which one do you think?" Iona asked the men around the desk, smiling at their bemused faces. This was obviously not something they were asked to do every day. Her father and Columba chose the peach, but everyone else voted for the lilac, so that was the choice. Before anyone could say another word, Iona gave a little whoop of delight and dashed out of the door to look for the seamstress, who was usua
lly to be found in her own little workroom busy doing a never-ending stream of mending.
At the same moment, both Columba and Gregor asked for another glass of wine, and Auguste began to admire a tapestry hanging on the door, blocking it with his body. Craig could do nothing but pour out the wine and hope that Iona was unable to say anything to the seamstress. After all, Pauline had hardly any English.
Iona dashed across the corridor to where Pauline worked in a little room next to the kitchen. She gave her the silk but could not make her understand exactly what to do with it. Auguste had rapidly caught on to what the others were doing, and after doing his job of obstructing the door, had anticipated the problem and came to her rescue. When he explained that she had to make a whole dress in less than two days Pauline protested about the short time she had to work in. Auguste turned to Iona.
"She says that two days is not enough time to make a whole dress from start to finish. She will need at least three, preferably four. A wedding dress is special, and it has to be made just right."
Iona thought for a moment. "Can she get one of my other dresses and trim it with a bit of this?" she asked, indicating the silk.
Auguste translated and Pauline nodded.
"Then she must take one from my wardrobe," Iona said, her voice desperate. "Can she have it ready by the day of the wedding?"
Again, Auguste translated. "She says yes, but you are not going to marry, are you?" He asked.
"No, but it has to look as though I am. Auguste, listen," she replied. "I have not much time to talk."
Auguste held up his hand. “Columba and Gregor told me everything,” he said, “I will do whatever I can to help.” They talked in English so that Pauline was ignorant of everything they said.
"I should not have kissed Gregor like that," she sighed, "I'm sorry - I did not want to embarrass you all. Damn. Here comes father." She pinned a smile on her face as Auguste began to say something humorous in French to Pauline, who giggled.
