by Ria Cantrell
When they approached the cell, Erik raised the torch to peer inside. It was unnaturally silent and that worried him. He fumbled with the key and tried the bars to no avail. They were rusted and Erik knew he had to put all his strength into pulling them open. He handed Jenna the torch and he used both his hands to yank upon the old steel grate. His feet slid on the slippery stones but he planted himself firmly and tried again.
Jenna called, “Tavish, we’re here to get ye’ out. Tavish, answer me.”
Tom heard the voice of his angel and hoped it was not just another hallucination. He was pretty certain that he had many during his time in the dark cell where his eyes never adjusted to the inky blackness. There was a light at the barred door. He must have been imagining that Jenna had come for him. He had seen her disdain for him when he had tried to tell her that he had not killed Caleb. Still, hope flared in his heart as he heard her voice again. He did not know how long he had been locked in that cell for the moments melded together and with no light or dark to distinguish the passing of time, Tom could not determine if it had been hours or days since he was imprisoned.
He shielded his eyes that now streamed with tears as the bright light from a torch blinded him. The horrible sound of grinding metal against stone seemed deafening as it screeched through the soul-sucking silence. Once the bars were pried free, Jenna rushed into the horrible cell. It smelled of lingering fear, sorrow and death. Jenna fought the impulse to purge her stomach on the spot. The last thing Tavish needed was her own vomit to add to the misery of the place.
There in the corner of the cell, Tavish was huddled with his knees bent before him. His back was against the wall and he was shielding his eyes from the sudden light in the dark pit. Jenna ran to him and she knelt next to him, not caring that the packed earthen floor with God knew what sort of nastiness would soil her gown. She touched his arm and said, “Oh God, Tavish, I’m so sorry.”
Tom’s eyes were starting to adjust to the bombardment of sudden light and he looked up from his arms into the face of the woman who had ever been in his dreams. Her face was tear-streaked. She had been crying; a lot. That thought broke Tom’s heart. She kissed his face over and over again and she said, “We’ve come fer’ ye’. Ye’ must leave with us now.”
“I did not think I would ever see you again. How long have I been here?”
Tom did not feel pangs of hunger or thirst, but he figured that the smell of the place pretty much destroyed that need. Having not eaten or drank, he had no other needs either, so he really had no idea how long he had been locked in.
“Ye’ve been here about a day and half. I’m so sorry ye’ve had to spend even one minute here. Can ye’ forgive me?”
“What do you need to be forgiven for? It was all my fault, Jen.”
“It was nay yer’ fault. It was my fault. Everything I had done led to the turn of events that took place.”
“The worst part was that I thought you hated me because of what happened, and I couldn’t really blame you.”
“Hated ye’? I love ye’, Tavish. I could nay hate ye’ even if I tried. Now, please, let’s get out of this place. It is so awful. I never wish to step foot into it again.”
Erik helped Tom to stand up. Tom hoped that if this was a dream that he would never wake from it, because if he found himself back in this dreadful place again, he did not know if he could stand it. Worse still, if he imagined that Jenna had said she loved him, he would wish to be back in the pit, after all.
Once he got his legs beneath him, he walked through the open bars. Jenna grabbed hold of his hand and Erik led the way with the torch held before them. Tom was reluctant to ask the obvious. From what he could see, Jenna was wearing a dark gown and Tom could not tell if it was black or because of the tricks of the darkness and bright torch that flared like the sun within the void, if it was just dark in color. He had to know so he asked, “Is Caleb…were they able to…help him?”
Jenna looked at Tavish and even in the darkness, she could see his distress stamped on his face. This was not a man who could have killed her grandfather and then been concerned for his well-being. Drawing in a ragged breath, Jenna said, “Nay. He passed from this world last eve.”
That news hit Tom like a punch. He knew Caleb’s wound had been bad, but his modern thinking mind hoped that medicine would save the man he had grown to admire in so short a time. This was a time of no advanced medical help but even if it had been, Tom thought that with the amount of blood that Caleb lost, there was little hope to have saved him.
“Oh, Jenna. I am so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“I swear to you I was not the one who hurt him. Jerome McManus threw his dagger and hit your grandfather before I could defend him. I swear it.”
“I know.”
“You believe me? But how?”
“I always knew ye’ would nay hurt him. I knew that in my heart. But my grandda’ spoke it with his last breaths. He said t’was McManus.”
Tears welled in Jenna’s eyes at the thought of her grandfather’s last words. She said, “He also gave me his blessing and that I should allow myself to love ye’.”
“And what is it that you want; not what Caleb or your parents want. What do you want?”
No man had ever asked her what she wanted; none except Tavish. Simply holding onto his arm, she said, “You.”
Erik smiled to himself. Their precious ice princess’ heart had finally melted after all and she was indeed grown up now. Sometimes tragedy and love forces the hands of Fate and clarity becomes the result.
~
Chapter Fifty ~
Tom stood beside Jenna with as much pride as he could muster. Richard, King of England was seated before him. Tom was filthy from his stay in the depths of the pit. His clothes were soiled and dark smudges of Caleb’s blood still smeared his hands and arms. His hair felt as if it had not been washed in weeks and he could still smell the stench of the cell clinging to his clothes. Even so, he held his head high in the light of those present in the great hall. All of Caleb’s sons stood at the sides of the room, and Tom could feel their murderous glares boring into his back without ever having to look their way. Did they still think he had murdered the laird? He did not know how to convince them of his innocence. Jenna had said that Caleb had pronounced his blamelessness upon his last breath. He thought about what Caleb had last spoken to him before he had succumbed to unconsciousness. Take care of my lass, he had said, and Tom had vowed that he would. He was loath to break that vow, but he was not sure he could stay in this place and time. There was only one thing holding him back from returning to his life as he knew it before; and that was Jenna. Even before making love to her, he had been drawn to her. He had been called by her and his heart had sought her even more than it had sought his natural mother. It seemed he had fought time and space just to find her, so how could he go back to a time when she was no more?
Tom was miserable in his thoughts and in his physical state. He really needed a good hot shower and he tried to concentrate on the matters at hand instead of the stinking filth upon him. When the king called him forward, he was reluctant to approach the dais in the horrible and unpresentable state which he was in. He glanced at the side walls of the room and saw the MacCollum men watching him with caution. Tom was pretty certain if looks could kill, he would be as dead as Caleb MacCollum. He knelt before the king, keeping well down wind of him. He was offensive to himself; he did not wish to add more offenses to his lot by disgusting the English king.
“You may rise.”
Tom did not know if he should apologize for his terrible appearance, but the king began to speak, so it would have to wait.
“We have been told that you had spoken to Lady Jenna prior to the events that led to the death of Laird MacCollum. We would know what you had told her.”
“I told her that….” What could he say? That he told her they would have to sleep apart for that night because he needed to foil de la Pole’s attempt on the kin
g’s life the next day? It was one thing to say such a thing in his time, but here, in medieval Scotland, the tarnishing of a girl’s reputation was as bad as killing a guy.
“Speak. We would hear what you have to say for yourself.”
“Well, I….”
He glanced at Jenna and she nodded. He threw his hands out before him, not wanting to admit that he had properly and thoroughly bedded her before all assembled in this place. Now he knew what people in court felt like when their dirty laundry was hung out to dry.
“Well, Your Majesty. I had told the Lady Jenna that I would bid her an early goodnight and that I would be able to see her later in the day.”
“Did you or did you not allude to something that was afoot? Something dire, perhaps?”
“I told her something very important had to be dealt with. Yes, I suppose, I did.”
“And what was that thing?”
“Your Majesty, I was out in the stables and I overheard Michael de la Pole plotting with a man named Jerome McManus. They wished to lure you from the revel of the hunt so that Jerome McManus could ambush you.”
“Ah! And did my confidante give reason to why he wished me to be assassinated?”
“He did, m’lord. He wished to appeal for the position of Regent in your place.”
Tom saw the king’s face nearly turn purple from the news of such a plot. He was positively livid.
“And so you took this news to no one.”
“No, m’lord, I did. I took the news to Laird Caleb. I did not know who to go to and so he and I decided to try to thwart the plot against you, only it had gone horribly wrong. Jerome McManus was lying in wait for you, it’s true, but instead he ambushed us and he threw his dagger with such precision that it mortally wounded the laird. That is the truth of the matter.”
“And this McManus; what has become of him?”
“I killed him, sire. Dear God, I killed a man….” Tom’s voice trailed off at the reality of what he had done. He had been responsible for the murder of a man, and it sat ill with him; even if that man was evil incarnate.
“Ah, the man who landed at Our feet, so you have killed him. We have been told that you had been training with Our guard. Is that so?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Did you train with him for the purpose of committing murder?”
“No, m’lord. I was training so that I could defend myself if the need arose and it did. I have been traveling a long time, you see and my skills as a warrior were seriously lacking. Your guard was preparing me and then once I had overheard the plot to harm you, I knew what I had to do.”
The king fingered his goatee and said, “Indeed.” Leaning back in his chair and resting his hand beneath his chin, he rubbed it again and then said, “Are there any present that wish to speak on behalf of this man?”
One of the large MacCollum men moved forward and said, “How can we be sure that he did nay kill my da, aye? He should be tried for treason against our clan and against the English throne.”
Tom looked at the man and did not know who he was. He saw that other one; the one who had practically pounded him to the dust the night he first kissed Jenna. Rory, was his name. Rory was standing silently, eying him like a wolf stalking his prey.
“Who is addressing Us?”
“I am Jamie MacCollum, eldest son of Laird Caleb.”
“Master MacCollum. First We would offer Our sincerest condolences for the loss of your father. We did not get to know him, but We have been told many good things about him by Our cousin, King Robert. He will surely be missed by all who knew him. However, We see no reason to try this man for treason in the highest degree.”
To Tom, the king declared, “Did you or anyone by your authority intend to commit violence against the laird or against Us?”
“No, sire. Never. I don’t know why I did not go to Sir Erik or to anyone else, but upon getting to know Laird Caleb, I knew he was the only man I could go to with what I had overheard without laying suspicion upon myself. I mean, as I mentioned, I have not been here for very long. I needed more time to gain the trust of those who could help. Laird Caleb trusted me.”
With a slow grin crookedly lifting one side of his mouth, the king said, “Why do you think that was so?”
With his head lowered, Tom answered, “Because, he knew I had fallen in love with his granddaughter. And more importantly, I think, because he knew that she loved me.”
“Hmm. Interesting. You are sure you are not in love with Lady Kiera?”
Tom stood straighter. So their ruse was out! Well, now was the time for him to be as honest as he could and he said, “I am quite sure that the only woman I love is Jenna Brandham.”
Not able to resist the opportunity to barb those present for their deception, the king added, “We wanted to be certain there was no mistaken identity for when We first called you forward to discuss your betrothal, We believe that Lady Kiera was sitting beside me and had claimed you as her intended.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. That, well, that was a mistake.”
“Was it? She is as lovely as the lady Jenna.”
Before it got worse, Kiera stood up and said, “I thank you, your majesty, for the words of praise, but Tavish was clear about where his heart lay. Besides, m’lord. I am already a married woman. I am married to someone from the neighboring clan of Campbell. I regret for my part in the deception.”
“Yes, well, what has been done cannot be undone. We regret it as well. I am sure my cousin King Robert may find it more amusing than We have. But we digress from the matter at hand. Will anyone else speak for this man?”
“I will speak for him, You Majesty.”
Tom turned around and saw Sir Erik standing behind him. “Come forward, Sir Knight.”
Erik knelt before the king. Once he had risen, he towered like a big Norse giant behind Tom. This could go from bad to worse in a heartbeat.
“My liege, this man has shown valor and honor. I would not speak lightly of it nor do I easily praise men who are less than worthy. He has trained diligently in the lists every day and though his decision may have been unwise to not come forward with his knowledge of the attempted assassination, I do understand why he could not bring it to light. He had only one goal and that was to prevent a terrible tragedy from unfolding.”
“But a terrible tragedy did unfold, Ragnorsen,” It was Jamie again. “My father lies in death’s bonds because of this man’s actions.”
Erik turned and said, “Jamie, I regret the loss of Caleb; as much as I have regretted the loss of my own father, but your father willingly chose to do this last deed for the honor of his clan and for himself. He died in battle, instead of withering away like the forgotten elderly, of old age. He was true to himself to the last and for that, you should be grateful to this lad. For were it not for him, Caleb would not have been given that chance to retain a small part of his youth, however fleeting it was.”
Jamie was about to say more when Rory stepped forward, seemingly out of the shadows at the side of the great hall. “He’s right, Jamie. Da’ would nay have wanted to die in his bed from some wasting disease. He was a man who had been strong and maybe, in those final moments, he felt like he did when he was a newly appointed laird. Da’ was nay a man to do what he did no’ wish to do.”
“You believe me?”
“Oh, I believe ye’, but we still have business left unfinished, aye?”
Tom knew that Rory was probably still pissed about having given him the slip that night in the camp when he had kissed Jenna, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He was pretty sure there were more people who wanted him dead than wanted him to be released.
“We do not have time or patience for your family squabbles. The fact of the matter is that this man, although taking matters into his own hands may have been somewhat rash, had dared to put his life before Ours and for that, We wish to see him rewarded.”
A hush fell on the hall and all eyes were once again on the mys
terious stranger who had been declared the suitor of the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Campbell Keep. Tom felt uneasy anticipation at the king’s words. He wanted nothing from the man. He really wanted to be left alone. He wished he could melt into the crowd and not be addressed again. The king spoke, “Please kneel before Us.”
Tom did as he was bidden, woodenly going to one knee and bowing his head before the king, he dragged in a deep breath and held it.
“Sir Erik, please come forward and lend Us use of your sword.”
Tom swallowed, as he heard the distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed from its scabbard. The king lifted it and laid the flat part of the blade against Tom’s shoulder. Tom could feel the cold steel bite against his flesh and he held perfectly still, lest his head be detached from his neck.
“For your valor and protection of Our life above all else, including the safety of your person, We hereby dub thee, Sir Tavish MacCollum, Knight of the Realm into the Order of Chivalry of Our fair Britania.”
The king passed the sword to Tom’s opposite shoulder and then laid the flat of the blade atop his head. Tom was speechless. He was completely astounded. It was unheard of. Not only that, he had no place being listed among the Order of Chivalry. He did not belong in this time; or did he? Perhaps he needed to stop fighting it and embrace what had been his lot from the start of his life. He glanced up and saw Morag standing in the archway leading into the hall. A look of pride lit her grief-stricken face. Oh, my God, I’ve been knighted and my biological mother is proud of me, even after all that has happened. It was almost too much for Tom to get his head around.
