Highland Treasure

by Mary McCall

  Hope snapped opened her eyes. “Aye, my friend, I smell it too. ‘Tis not in an area where any clan would be tending it. Best have Harry come. He will find it quicker."

  She released a brief call as Diable continued in the direction of the terrifying odor. Harry swooped down and landed on Hope's outstretched arm. “Swiftly, Harry, take us to the fire."

  The eagle soared toward the mountain forest. Diable broke into a gallop, keeping Harry in sight. They entered a small trail Hope hadn't noticed before. Up the path, in a small clearing, a hut blazed. A bloodcurdling scream of terror reached her. She pulled the red ribbon from her whip and held it above her head.

  "Harry! To our laird!"

  Harry snatched the ribbon and soared above the trees out of sight. Arriving at the cottage, Hope found the roof consumed with flames. Someone cried out while pounding on the walls.

  "Zounds! Some swine barred the door from the outside!” Hope jumped from Diable, grabbed the plaid, and wrapped it around herself, covering her head. The boards easily slid from the brackets. She jerked open the door and saw sparks and embers spew forth. Hope momentarily closed her eyes against the burning rain. She looked into the hut. A soot-covered man sat hunched over in the far corner, imprisoned by a barrier of flames from a fallen beam.

  "Listen to me! You have only one chance, so you bloody well better do what I say! I'm going to throw my plaid over the beam. Run over it afore ‘tis on fire too!"

  Hope whipped off her protective shield and tossed it over the flames. The giant man barreled forward, lifting and propelling her backward as he fled the inferno. Just as they cleared the hut, the roof collapsed, spraying more embers. The pair made haste toward the path, escaping the stinging rain, and Hope turned back to stare at the blaze.

  "An-ge-gel?” a stuttering voice asked.

  Turning her gaze on the huge, lopsided hunchback, she noticed the offset ears and gentle brown eyes. Hope knew, though ‘twas covered with soot, he had a head full of wavy blond hair. “Courageous!"

  She threw her arms around the misshapen hulk. He returned her hug and cried out, then jerked her around and hit her lower back. The force of the blow knocked Hope to the ground.

  Zounds! Her hair was aflame! She rolled around, trying to put out the fire. Thundering hooves pounded the ground. Leonce rode toward them, and the look on his face—bloody rot, he was enraged! He must have seen Courageous hit her.

  Leonce jumped from his horse. Hope leapt in front of Courageous and cracked her whip. Leonce halted, but the glint in his eyes said he meant to kill.

  "You'll not harm Courageous, MacPherson. He was trapped in that fiery hut. And here I've been trying to find him since I arrived.” She was driven forward as her friend slammed her back again. “Stop that, Courageous. He was only hitting me, becau—"

  "Your hair is on fire!” Leonce shouted and grabbed her.

  She found herself jerked around and held up by one arm as Leonce slapped at the flames. Tears filled her eyes. A slap from her strong Highland husband was equivalent to a beating from her cursed father. Water flooded over her head. Leonce released her and then stood beside Courageous, who held a dripping bucket.

  Burning pain shot through her feet as her entire body tensed. Pounding hooves from behind warned her that warriors had followed their chieftain, so they would get to view her latest disgrace.

  Hope pasted on the serene smile she knew Leonce hated and clasped her hands in front of her. “This has been a rotten day so far, Chief MacPherson. ‘Tis not half over. I'm wondering what cursed thing will happen next. First, my husband left our bed without cuddling and accused me of torturing him. Then, he nearly let me kill our king, and I almost got myself executed. Now, I have walked through fire, my hair has burned off and my husband has beaten me."

  Leonce winced.

  "Here I stand, looking for all the world like a drenched, dirty rat. And do you know what the worst of it is?” Hope smiled wider at Leonce, who appeared not to know what to do. “The worst of it is my chief failed me. For when I left the keep, he bloody well let me forget my shoes, and he has yet to pick me up off my crispy feet!"

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  Chapter Thirty

  * * * *

  Word was out! Lady MacPherson would walk barefoot across burning embers to save her clansmen. They were all waiting along the mountainside as Leonce rode Diable up the path with Hope in his arms.

  Hope learned why Courageous, whom they referred to as Simpkin, was locked up. She ordered every MacPherson warrior to the hall. Leonce cancelled the order, so she ordered it again. After he rescinded her demand for the third time, she announced that any warrior who didn't come would never hear another of her stories.

  Leonce carried her into the hall, trailed by the soot-covered hunchback. The warriors who followed overflowed the hall.

  Bertie ran toward them, screaming, “Mam!"

  "I am well, Bertie,” she said from the cradle of Leonce's arms. “Freya, I need a bucket of icy cold water by my chair. Leonce, take me to sit afore the hearth. Courageous and Bertie, come sit on the floor by me."

  Leonce headed for the stairs. “Quit tossing orders, wife. You're going to our chamber so your feet can be tended."

  "Wait, Leonce.” She placed a palm on his cheek. He met her gaze and halted. “There are three things of importance at this moment. I need my feet in icy water to stop the stinging and start the healing. I can do that down here. I need to correct a terrible injustice done to a MacPherson. That I must do down here because your clansmen must hear, and I can do it while I soak my feet. The last I cannot do down here in front of your men or while I soak my feet, and that is take a bath. Please, Leonce, let me stay.” Reading hesitation in his eyes, she favored him with an impish grin. “Will it help you decide if I remind you that I showed my chieftain proper respect by not saying ‘bloody well’ once during my request, and I instead added, ‘Please, Leonce.’”

  She inflicted just the right amount of passion into the last two words to remind him of their night in the cave. Fire sizzled through him. He turned and walked toward the hearth. “Wife, that bloody well wasn't fair."

  Hope perked up. “Darach, place another chair near the hearth for our king. I regret making you wait for your accounting, Sire, but this is important.” She flashed him a smile. “Bloody well important. ‘Tis one."

  Leonce sat down in Hope's story chair, holding her in his lap, and listened as she called out orders. She placed Bertie on the floor to her right and Simpkin, who she insisted upon calling Courageous, on the floor to her left. Aonghus followed Freya, carrying a bucket of icy cold water from the mountain stream, and Hope ordered him to stay nearby.

  Aonghus placed the bucket on the floor between Leonce's feet. An awed gasp rushed through the hall as Hope turned in Leonce's lap, lowered her scalded feet into the water, and widened her smile. Leonce knew what her smile meant and massaged her neck. Then Hope told Freya to bring some whisky too, and he chuckled in her ear.

  Hope consumed a thimbleful of spirits, caught hold of Leonce's hand, and interlaced her fingers with his. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and then sat back to listen to whatever she had to say.

  "Bertie, you'll hear your story now, though ‘tis early, because after I finish I intend to get bloody drunk and sleep away the rest of the day so I can be ready for tonight.” She squeezed Leonce's hand. He returned the gentle pressure. “'Tis not a story I'm proud to tell, and ‘tis one I wish the Good Lord would let me forget. An injustice was done to a MacPherson, and ‘tis my fault. ‘Twill be righted after you hear me, though you all may hate me again. And I'll not blame you if you do."

  She rubbed her brow, releasing a sorrowful sigh. “You remember the tale of the Highland maid and her daughter, Bertie?” Hope nodded, not looking at the child. “I'm sure you do, for you thought it a sad tale. ‘Twas part I left out. I was afraid to give you the horrible memory. ‘Tis a cursed memory that haunts my nights, for ‘twas worse than the death of the young gir
l's mother. But ‘tis a tale every MacPherson must hear, for it involves the blackest day of their past."

  Foreboding assailed Leonce, and he applied a gentle pressure to her fingers.

  "Once upon a time, a Highlander stole away the girl's friend Cassie. ‘Twas early spring, and the mighty eagle that the girl had befriended followed Cassie to the Highlands. A few weeks later, he returned with a green ribbon.” She glanced down and fingered the green ribbon dangling from her whip.

  "What is a green ribbon for?” Leonce asked.

  "'Tis a sign safe haven has been found where they will be welcomed. She was glad it was not black, for ‘twould mean: ‘Do not come, or you'll die.’ The girl decided to make the journey. She learned the evil baron planned to attack another Highlander, to kill him and his three sons. Being half Scot herself and not caring for her cursed Norman father, she decided ‘twas her duty to warn the chieftain.” Hope bowed her head and sniffed.

  Good God, his vision wasn't a premonition or a dream! She had been here! Leonce squeezed her hand and caressed her other arm with a knuckle.

  She continued her tale without looking up. “The girl didn't know where the evil baron was going. She decided to keep out of sight and follow the brute, hoping that when they neared the holding he would make camp, so she could slip away and warn the chieftain.” A strangled noise escaped her throat, and she raised a hand to her mouth.

  "But that is not what happened, is it, love?"

  "Nay, Chief. The baron is an evil pig with a devil's heart and no honor. He chose his time well, for most of the clan was at a folk festival at Inverness. The pace he set was rigorous. By the time they made camp on the night afore the battle, the girl was so cursed weary that she decided to rest for a moment afore seeking the chief and...she fell asleep.” Hope ended on a shamed whisper.

  Leonce slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She clutched at his fingers with one hand while she gripped his arm with her other. When she raised her face toward the warriors, her horrified expression sent chills racing down more than one MacPherson's spine.

  "The rage of the chieftain's battle cry echoed through the hills. The clang of steel was drowned out by the crunching and chopping of breaking bones along with the sounds of splattering blood. ‘Twas a cursed ambush! About forty Highlanders were surrounded by two hundred Normans, who closed in swinging maces, axes and swords. One knight chopped off the arm of a tall, gray-bearded clansman, while another chopped off his head from behind so it flew through the air and landed yards away, rolling and rolling.

  "Aonghus took a sword in his back and a mace at his shoulder and then fell to the ground. One of the chieftain's sons was speared. The cursed knight twisted the spear around and around and pulled back, ripping forth his oozing bowel. Another warrior fell after three knights came upon him from different directions with two spears and a sword. He froze with a look of surprise before he fell. Blood gushed from his wounds and covered the ground, but there was a plant nearby. ‘Twas heather.” Hope's brows knitted, as if she was watching the scene unfolding. “The blood never landed on the heather. Is that not strange, I thought, for blood flowed everywhere else."

  She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I do not remember how the second son died. The chieftain took an axe in his chest. Leonce was across the field and ran toward his father. He claimed Justice. The baron threw a mace, clipping the side of Leonce's head, and he went down. He had been the last warrior standing.

  "The baron and knights rode toward the holding at the base of the next hill. I learned later they burnt out the entire clan. At the time I thought they went to pillage the place. I rushed to see if anyone survived. Someone groaned. I saw a young warrior with flowing red hair and beautiful hazel eyes staring up at me. I leaned over thinking ‘twas him and realized he had no lower half. ‘Twas chopped in half at the waist, and his feet lay next to his head. Then someone let out a bloodcurdling scream. I realized it was me. I screamed and screamed, and I could not stop. I asked the Good Lord to get me away. Then I threw up over and over. I kept hearing the anguished moan. I wanted it to stop. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears so I wouldn't have to see or hear.

  "I heard my mother saying, ‘Angelaspera, Highlanders always do their duty.’ Then I heard old Elda saying, ‘You're a healer, Hope. ‘Tis a calling from God, so ‘tis your duty to use The Gift well.’ Again I heard the groan. When I opened my eyes, I was back amid the carnage. I checked the fallen warriors and found four alive. Aonghus was the first. I tried to move him, but he was too cursed heavy. I cried and asked him why he had to be so bloody big."

  Hope turned her gaze upon Courageous, and her expression softened. “There I was thinking I was failing, and the Good Lord's angels sent me a strong friend with a gentle heart, whose mind is so blessed that he does not know hate. He helped me carry Aonghus to a hidden cave. Then we went back for Leonce and two men named Nick and Matt. I tended Nick first. His right arm was gone, and a gaping hole in his side sucked air. He died soon after we got him to the cave. Next, Aonghus's back and shoulder needed stitching, and Matt's leg needed to be sewn shut, for ‘twas missing below the knee. Leonce had a gash in his face. I sewed it, but he wouldn't talk to me, so I could not know how bad he was.

  "Then my special friend brought me water and cheese and draped a blanket over my shoulders. He told me to eat and rest. Afore I could thank him, he left. He came back with a stack of bloody blankets and told me, ‘We cannot lose MacPherson plaid.’ I remembered Justice. I ran back to the battlefield and saw the baron heft the great sword.” Hope massaged her temple in a weary manner. “'Twas then I knew I had to return to England, and I wouldn't get to see Cassie."

  "You returned to England to get Justice?” King Malcolm asked from his chair by the hearth.

  "Aye, Sire.” She raised a sad gaze.

  "I'm surprised. After all you went through to get here. You had no ties to The MacPherson. Why did you go back for Justice?"

  "You bloody well would have gone after the weapon, Sire."

  A twinkle lit Malcolm's eyes. “Aye, I would have gone."

  "Tell me why, Mam,” Bertie said.

  "Because Justice is a chieftain's weapon. No decent Highlander would allow a chieftain's weapon to fall into the hands of the cursed Normans. Something that awful would halt a feud. The Highlanders would band together until the weapon was back. Of course, then they would bloody well start feuding again."

  "An-gel s-s-save Ch-ch-chief.” Courageous gazed adoringly at Hope.

  "All three of the warriors had fevers. Matt woke late on the second day, but when he saw his leg gone, he gave up. He would not let me help him, and he died the next morning. Aonghus and Leonce's fevers broke within hours of each other on the fourth day, so ‘twas safe for me to leave.

  "Then I realized I had been so busy that I hadn't asked my new friend his name. I raged when he told me, so I gave him a new one.” She sat up straighter and turned hard eyes on the warriors. “'Tis Courageous.” She nodded once, reinforcing her order, and smiled at Courageous again. “He asked me what my name was, and I told him. But ‘twas too hard for him to say, so I told him my other name."

  "You have more than one name, lass?"

  "Nay, Aonghus. My name means ‘angel full of hope,’ but no one ever uses it, for ‘tis too long and Latin. Only my parents knew it, and only my mother ever spoke it."

  "What did your cursed father call you?” Bertie asked.

  "'Tis too disgusting, and you're too young to hear.” Hope looked at the warriors again. “Now you know the truth, so heed me. I'll rage if I find my Courageous barred in a hut again. And if I find out who puts him there, I'll skewer them alive and roast their cursed rumps. My story is done, so you can go."

  Leonce pulled her back against him. “You were gone for two years, Hope. Why did you wait so long to return?"

  "'Tis the truth, I hoped no one would ask."

  Resting his chin on top of her head, he squeezed her finge
rs still interlaced with his. She needed to tell everything and purge the horrors that haunted her. “Your chieftain is asking."

  "Will he believe me if I say ‘twas because I'm soft and ‘twas too cursed cold up here?” she asked in a mewling voice.

  "In a pig's eye,” he whispered. Then he kissed her temple.

  She sighed. “When Diable and I were following Harry back to England, I realized I was covered with MacPherson blood. The battle flashed through my mind. I stared at my hands. Even though I had washed them, I knew the blood would always be there, for the massacre was my fault because I fell asleep."

  "What!” Leonce's scar throbbed. Only a woman could think like that.

  "Aye, Chief, I understand your anger.” She shook her head sadly. “'Twas then I learned I was a coward. For if I came back with Justice, I feared you'd kill me to rid the world of the Norman blood of the man who sired me, like my cursed father always tried to beat out my Scot blood. And if I went to Cassie and asked her chieftain to return Justice, I might have started a feud betwixt the two clans, because he would have been aiding your worst enemy. Or he might have turned me over for you to kill, because there is no sense feuding over a half-Norman girl you don't know. So I told the Good Lord that if He wanted me to come back, He must give me guts or a sign. He eventually sent Bertie."

  "So if Bertie had not come, you were going to spend your whole life in that damn cave?” he demanded.

  "Nay, I was going to be holy."

  "What!” several incredulous warriors yelled along with Leonce.

  "I spent almost a week in the priory with the Good Sisters of Patience afore I found out I didn't have any. The prioress was a mean woman too.” Hope shuddered. “She wanted me to do backbreaking labor on my hands and knees all day long with only one bowl of soup and three glasses of water, wearing almost a hundred cursed layers of hot clothes, and to kneel down in the chapel six times a day, not counting Mass. And even after I did all those things, she said my penance had to be a cursed whipping."

  "What did you do that deserved such a thing?” He had no doubt that his impulsive wife had done something. Hope in a convent was too ludicrous to contemplate.