Son and Throne (Kaitlyn and the Highlander Book 11)

by Diana Knightley

  Kaitlyn had been here.

  Inches of snow had collected on the body so she had been here hours afore. “Och, Kaitlyn, where are ye?”

  I swung the lantern, illuminating left and right, searching all directions. I found no footsteps, no sign of a living person, only a body under a layer of snow. I believed it had been at least six hours, perhaps more.

  Long enough tae freeze tae death.

  But the castle was nae far away.

  And Kaitlyn kent tae get there.

  But what if she dinna ken where she was?

  I dug through the bag for night-vision goggles, and searched the immediate woods, in every direction, slowly and methodically. I called, “Kaitlyn! Kaitlyn!” and listened carefully. Finally I came tae the edge of the woods, and looked past the stables, at the building that was nae a castle, but a small timber-built fortress.

  If she made it there, she would be safe, she wouldna freeze tae death.

  I looked over the vast field, If she was outside of the fortress, she would die, I needed tae keep looking for her.

  I considered approaching the gate in the night, but if I did I would need tae go inside. If they kent I was outside, alone, in the woods, they might rob me or worse.

  I repeated tae m’self, trudging through the snow, scanning the landscape, “Stay alive Kaitlyn, I am close, daena die, I will find ye.”

  Verra late I surrendered tae the weather, she couldna be found this night.

  I returned tae m’horses, tied them tae a tree, unpacked m’tent, pitched it, and climbed inside, verra grateful for the heat of a warming bed sack, but I dinna sleep. I prayed, “Tis dark and cold, please bring Kaitlyn strength and warmth and light until I find her.”

  At first light I searched the woods, finding nae trace, then returned tae pack my horses. Then I rode the larger horse, leadin’ the other. I went first tae the stables, asking the stable boy if he had seen anyone walkin’ from the woods tae the castle the day prior. He hadn’t and so I went tae inquire with the guards.

  The guards were nae forthcomin’.

  When asked if they had seen m’wife, they assured me they had nae seen her and wouldna answer any more questions.

  Though I assured them I was a Campbell, I couldna prove m’familial connection. They wouldna let me pass.

  Next I entered the village, I climbed from m’horse tae stand in the middle of the path, tryin’ tae ascertain where Kaitlyn might hae gone. Because of the cold there were nae so many people about. Voices rose in a nearby tavern. I tied m’horse outside. Inside, there was a table with a sparse breakfast for around six men. They all turned when I entered.

  The proprietor was servin’ drinks. I asked if he had seen my young wife, enterin’ town the day before. He growled that he ‘hadna.’ One of the men made a loud joke about wantin’ tae find her, though he was too drunk tae stand, so I let him be.

  I returned outside.

  I led m’horses down the desolate road until I found a man walkin’ between his house and his stables.

  “Hallo!” I called, “I am lookin’ for someone. M’wife. She has become lost. I believe she might hae come tae this village yesterday?”

  He waved me tae follow him intae the stables, bangin’ his feet tae loosen the mud and snow at the door. “Yer wife?”

  “Aye, she is young, lost, and she canna speak Gaelic. Tis verra cold, I canna find her.”

  He introduced himself as David and led me down the path and called in at another house, “Margar! Ye about?” An older woman peeked out, and waved us through her front door. She made us sit because I was, “too verra big tae stand” in her kitchen under the short ceiling.

  She listened as I recounted m’tale, then wiped her hands on a cloth, wrapped herself with tartan, and we said goodbye tae David. I followed Margar out intae the cold.

  We went door tae door, speakin’ tae the occupants of each house about the loss of m’wife. The villagers had closed their homes against the winter storm, news was nae travelin’ as it would in the summer months. After a time Margar led me intae the tavern tae once more inquire about Kaitlyn. They paid her more respect, but still had nae news. I bought Margar a whisky for the trouble and we discussed m’next step.

  She explained tae me that the fortress was held by one Sir Colin Campbell, and that he was building a tower house. She even kent the year — 1551. I took a deep breath. Twould be almost six years afore the origin of the vessels. Och. I bought us another round of whisky. She told me Sir Colin and his family were residin’ there during the construction. She kent a great deal about the business of the Campbells, much like Madame Greer two hundred and fifty years from now.

  I was invited tae shelter in David’s home, she told me it would be best for receivin’ news on m’wife, but I was concerned about being away from the fortress. I felt sure now twas the only place Kaitlyn might be.

  So I mounted m’horse. I would present m’self at the fortress, with business for Sir Colin. If need be, I would pay him handsomely in exchange for information about Kaitlyn.

  Thirty-one - Kaitlyn

  At dawn I was nudged awake by a strong kick from Mary’s foot. As soon as I got to standing, I said, “Please, I need something to drink, please, Mary, water.”

  She shoved me into the hard wooden chair, catching sight of the back of my skirt, wet. She yelled long, scolding and furious — I was stupid. I was ungodly. I was supposed to be a grown ass woman but I had peed on myself. The baby was screaming his head off in the corner of the room. She smacked me across the face — twice. Then stalked off, returning a moment later with a pewter cup half-full of water. It was not enough at all. She thrust forward a small hunk of bread. I choked the bread down first and then slammed the water. “Please, more, I need more for the milk.” I gestured at my breasts. “And where do I go to the bathroom?” I gestured something whooshing from between my legs and she fiercely pointed against the wall behind me. I hadn’t seen it from my corner, but that was the only spot in the room that it was hidden from. A chamber pot out in public. I peed trying to hold my head down in shame.

  The baby was really screaming his head off by now. I wondered where his mother was... was she okay? I guessed he was about four weeks old. Smaller than Isla. Ugly. Which I hated to say because he might be an orphan. And wouldn’t there be someone, somehow to feed this baby? Why me? And was I now being forced to do this? Could I leave? And where would I go?

  I returned to my hard chair and Mary brought the baby and I nursed him again, right and left. I watched and listened as Mary and another woman talked, and figured out the bairn’s name was Duncan. Then, as soon as he was done, he was immediately taken away.

  I was told, not in words I understood, but in gestures, to get over to the corner and hide so no one would have to see me.

  I lay in the corner, but it was too cold to get comfortable. I sat up, trying to position myself so my tartan would cover both my shoulders and my legs. I watched Mary come and go, but always when she was gone, I could hear her yelling at someone close-by.

  About mid-morning, she came at me again. I cowered, but she yanked me to my knees and shoved my face into the wall, she clasped my hands together, like to pray, then smacked me against the back of my head. As if to tell me to do this from now on.

  She actually didn’t need to ask me twice, prayer might be the only hope I would have. I prayed for hours.

  Another woman swept into the room. I took furtive glances over my shoulder. She was small, well-dressed, wearing thick tapestry-like fabrics. She was the only one wearing clothes that looked warm enough. By listening I learned she was called Lady Katherine. She was young, but with hawkish, pointed, pinched-lip, irritated expression. Worse than Mary’s. And Mary’s was fucking terrible.

  Mary looked afraid of her actually, which made me pretty happy. I took small hidden peeks as the new lady stalked over to Duncan’s cradle and looked down into it with an expression best described as distaste. Then she scooped him up, crossed to the only comfort
able chair in the whole room, and sat down with Duncan in her lap.

  I continued to face the wall, until, curious, I peeked again and caught her glaring at me. I looked away but it was too late. She stood up, yelling about something.

  Mary, bowing and acquiescing, turned the chair around so Lady Katherine wouldn’t have to see me. She sat for a few more minutes, then stood, deposited Duncan back into the cradle, and left the room.

  Mary came over in a full screech. It sounded like, “How dare you?!” But I couldn’t be sure. And I didn’t know how I dared because I had no idea what I had done.

  She yanked my hair back, screamed in my face, and then using my hair dragged me to the chair and made me feed him again.

  I was praying in the corner, my forehead pressed to the wooden timbers. I couldn’t see cracks, but it was cold as hell. Another woman entered, she wore a plain skirt with an apron and her shoulders were wrapped with a woolen shawl. She was carrying a very, very tiny baby. She and Mary spoke to each other at length. I took small glances, the baby mewled and cried, sounding like a newborn, but also a weak newborn.

  The newborn’s cries made me desperate — to feed it, to help it, to soothe it. My forehead had a groove from pressing it against the wall, the palms of my hand had marks from my fingernails. I was so freaking hungry. I wanted to plan my escape, to fight my way from the room, to murder fucking Mary, but hunger gnawed at my stomach and I couldn’t keep my mind straight.

  Head to the kitchen, I told myself, charge out the door.

  But not in the snow.

  Not without a weapon.

  Not without a clear plan.

  And there wasn’t a clear plan, there was hunger — baby-crying, skin-crawling, heart-breaking, mind-fucking, desperate starvation. Cry cry cry wailed the newborn. My milk let down wetting my front. Because I wasn’t a superhero, I wasn’t even a terrible arse. I had been the kind of girl who could do shit and now I was a leaky, weak mess, brought to a weak-ass cowering breaking point.

  What would Hayley do?

  She wouldn’t let this bitch touch her, that’s for sure.

  I sighed. But, truth be told, as amazing as she was, without her gun, without food, without water, without a pair of fucking boots, she would be a lot like me, just trying to survive.

  Thirty-two - Kaitlyn

  The new nursemaid sat in the comfortable chair and fed the newborn. Mary never yelled at her or manhandled her. She seemed respected. My knees hurt so freaking bad. Pain shot up my legs. I tried to concentrate on the wood my forehead was pressed against. Up close there was a knot shaped a little like a lima bean, but with the surrounding rings, it also looked like a monkey swinging from a branch, it gave me about three minutes of distraction before my pain and agony broke through again.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped from my knees, sat on my arse and shook out my legs. I shook them hard. I tried not to look around, to keep my eyes downcast, cowering, maybe if I didn’t look up Mary wouldn’t notice I—

  She bustled across the room, screeching, and I thought, this bitch is going to wake all the babies. If I had a fucking dirk I would stab her through, and if I were ever in court over it I would say, “In my defense, this was my life — nurse babies to sleep only to have this fucking bitch yell them awake.” I would not be sorry.

  She yanked me up by the arm, dragged me to the far end of the room, and shoved me down on my knees again. If I tried to look at her she screamed at me, if I didn’t answer her she screamed. If I didn’t understand her she screamed. Then, my eyes clamped tight, trying to drown out her voice, she shoved down my skirt and yanked up my shift. I struggled, I struggled hard, but she called over the other nursemaid to hold my arms and I was exposed to the room and then I was hit hard across my lower back. Pain radiated from the blow. I glanced up to see a stick, about three feet long, about an inch wide, wielded in her tight fist, arcing down at me. It struck me again a little higher up. I shrieked. It hit me again across my buttocks as I tried to struggle out of their grasp, and again, this time across my upper back. I pressed my cheek to the wall and whimpered and begged the universe to help me, while blow after blow rained down.

  I counted twelve but might have missed some. It seemed she would keep going but thankfully Duncan began to cry. Mary dragged me to the chair. I crawled up into it, trying to get my shift down and my skirt up. My back was ablaze in a pain that threatened to drag me under. She gathered the baby and thrust him into my arms. I cried more, tears streaming down my face, but instead of screaming at me over it she seemed exhausted by the effort.

  She stomped away. She and the other woman talked loud and long about me, occasionally pointing in my direction, as if I was the irritating employee in the break room that everyone had to deal with.

  Mary left the room. The other woman nursed the tiny baby. I glared at her. Fucking nursing a newborn after holding my arms while I was beaten? She didn’t deserve to have that newborn baby in her arms. I hated her. I hated all of them. I nursed Duncan and then I was ordered to my corner.

  I sat without praying. Glaring at the room. Deciding all the ways I was going to burn this place down. After concocting my revenge, I tried to meditate, something I was never that good at before because it was too boring. Now I didn’t care about boring, I wanted to get my fucking brain off of my hunger. And my imminent death by bitch ass nurse or by running, screaming into the woods and dying in a snowbank.

  I held a fold of skirt between my fingers and rubbed, thinking about the feel and the movement and trying not to think about never going home, trying not to think about anything at all.

  Thirty-three - Magnus

  I approached the guards again and this time told them I was Lord Magnus Campbell, there tae confer with Sir Colin of Glenorchy. I was told tae wait while a man left with m’message.

  The wind was up and snow flurryin’. I was under scrutiny by the guard, for claimin’ tae be a lord without an army or even a squire. I attempted tae sound important. Glaring, I allowed my horses tae stomp and pace back and forth impatiently.

  Finally, the messenger returned. I was told Sir Colin would see me in the morn. He sent a message: I should find lodgin’ in the village until then.

  I demanded tae see Sir Colin right then but the soldiers closed in front of the gate and wouldna let me pass.

  I returned tae the woods, twould be an even more dangerous night, now that the guards of the fortress kent I was here. I pitched the tent under the trees, a spot protected from the wind.

  I wore the night-vision goggles for a time, lookin’ in all directions, callin’ tae Kaitlyn, but I kent twas useless, twas too cold. If she was outside she was long lost.

  Twas difficult tae sleep as I was anxious tae resume searching. I had visions of what might be happenin’ tae her, alone, unable tae understand the words spoken around her, too cold tae be able tae survive without help, needin’ food. What might be happenin’ tae her... Twas verra difficult tae find enough peace of mind tae rest.

  At first dawn the snow had stopped. A cold wind blew, but twas not ice cold as the day before. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow and in the clearing Bella’s body had been completely covered in freshly fallen snow. I wouldna be able tae bury her body until the spring thaw.

  I set the first of m’beacons, unsure if I would be able tae return. I used a small chain tae raise it high in a tree and locked the ends. Twas hidden nicely. I packed my gear, loaded the horses, and then ate a quick breakfast of military rations of a cold oatmeal in cinnamon and raisin flavor. I armed myself with as many guns as I could hide on m’person, and wore the customary dirk sheathed at my waist and m’claymore strapped tae m’back.

  Then I rode tae the gate and demanded entry for m’morning meeting with Sir Colin. The guards made me wait while they messaged Sir Colin, but then finally opened the gates and allowed me entrance.

  This was a formidable feat: enterin’ a stranger’s castle without men at m’side. Guards walked alongside me as I led m’h
orses intae the courtyard and tied them near a trough for water.

  The courtyard was ringed by mud and half-timbered buildings of varying heights alongside each other with mismatched thatched roofs. Their windows looked down on the courtyard as if twas a village square, though right in the middle, a tower house was bein’ constructed, scaffolding around it. The stone bein’ laid about three stories tall, though only the exterior looked finished.

  Even with the snow of the night, there were already masons around beginnin’ the work of the day. Drawin’ from a pile of stone, with heavy-loaded carts bein’ pushed tae the construction and crossin’ empty for another load. Men were climbin’ and loading and orderin’ from one end of the courtyard tae the other.

  There were so many men here that it sent a chill through me that I would hae tae search room by room in hunt of her. The guard formed around me and took me tae meet Sir Colin.

  Thirty-four - Magnus

  A guard knocked on the front door, and a man’s voice called for us tae enter.

  I was led up the thin stairs tae the top floor and entered a short-ceilinged, sparsely decorated room. I ducked tae enter.

  I was introduced as Lord Magnus Campbell tae Sir Colin the Gray, who was a diminutive man, with a long white beard. “Where are ye from?”

  “Riaghalbane. Tis a verra long distance away. M’wife, Lady Campbell and I have been travelin’ tae visit her family...”

  “Oh? And they are?”

  “Campbells. Of Argyll.”

  He nodded. “I ken a few of them, I haena heard of ye.”