by Tarah Scott
“Then surely a good Christian like yerself would allow my mistress a few mere moments of yer precious time.”
Ian patiently waited for the steward to mull over his request. He was quite gifted at playing the role of a priest when the occasion called for it. And this man made it all too easy for him. As drunk as the man was, he could be talking to the Pope for all he knew.
“I will allow it. But tell yer mistress that I will allow her only a few minutes,” he said as he stood from his chair.
“She will be pleased for any time ye will give her. May God bless ye and keep ye.”
“Here,” the steward said, picking up a small pouch from his desk. “For the good of the church,” he said, digging in his bag he handed Ian a few coins.
“Thank ye.”
Ian looked at the coins the man offered and slipped them into his inner pocket. Sin or not, if the man was willing to share his riches, Ian was not about to protest the offering. He would put them to good use.
“Before I forget, I did have one more question. Ye havena happened to see a mon by the name of Rylan Arnett of the clan MacKay, have ye?”
“Rylan Arnett? Ne’er heard of the mon.”
“Are ye certain? He was to arrive earlier today.”
“I am certain of it. My guards keep me well aware of who enters these walls. Perhaps the mon ye are searching fer has decided to stay in the village.”
“Perhaps, thank ye again fer yer time.”
Chapter 21
Keira nervously paced the floor as she waited for Ian to return. Knowing that her father was somewhere in the dungeon beneath her feet caused her stomach to cramp and tighten as if she’d swallowed a bag of rocks.
Keira thought about their meeting and what she would say. She had so many questions to ask that she knew she wouldn’t remember them all. If she could, she would have written them all down just to make sure she wouldn’t forget.
“Lassie, ye need to ease yer worry. Ian will be back soon,” Leland advised.
“I cannae help it. I hate having to wait. I always have to wait.”
Leland smirked, “Tis the way of life my lady.”
“Well it’s a way I am no’ use to,” she admitted just as Ian walked through the door.
Keira quickly turned to face him.
“Did ye find out where they are holding my father? Will they allow me to speak to him?” she asked in one breath.
“Aye I did manage to convince the steward to allow ye a few minutes below in the dungeons. However I am afraid my request has cost us. Until we leave this place, ye will have to refer to me as Father MacKay.”
“Father? Ye told them ye were a priest? Are ye mad?” Leland asked, surprised by Ian’s remark.
“Twas the only way I could convince the mon to allow Keira to see her father.”
Keira felt terrible he had to lie for her but was grateful for it; though his sin would now be her burden. Since they met, Keira had been counting the number of times she would ask for a reprieve to save his soul; as she highly doubted he could save his own. It was curious, though, how he managed to convince someone of his sainthood. A man would have to be mad to believe such a thing. Every bone in Ian’s body was sinful. He obviously had the skills of deception, of that, she knew all too well.
“Thank ye Ian, fer yer sacrifice,” Keira solemnly replied.
“Ye are my wife, Keira. ‘Twas nay a sacrifice,” he reminded her. “Come, we have little time.”
Keira followed Ian out the door and down the stairs. The two of them stopped at the bottom step just outside a warped wooden door where two guards stood guarding the entrance to the dungeon below the stairs.
“My name is Father MacKay. My mistress has been given permission to speak to Laird Sinclair,” Ian reported.
Keira was awestruck by Ian’s performance as he conversed with the guards. He spoke with an English accent, similar to that of the Lowlanders. As the guards spoke to him, Ian went into full character citing bible scripts and blessings. It was hard not to laugh. She wondered what other antics Ian had up his sleeve.
The guards granted entrance and opened the two locks that sealed the door. They guided them to a solitary room down the end of a long hall. The smell was nauseating, Keira held her breath as they passed several closed wooden doors. The hall was dim and gloomy and smelled of moldy straw and piss. Beyond the moans and cries of the inmates, sharp squeaks of rats could be heard as they scurried in and out underneath the doors as they searched for food and shelter. Keira almost dug her nails into Ian’s arm as her grip on him intensified.
“Stay here,” the guard ordered. “I will fetch the prisoner.”
Keira’s pulse increased at the mention of her father.
“Ian,” she whispered. “May I speak to my father in private?”
Ian’s brow furrowed at her question. She could tell he was not happy with her request.
“I will no’ leave this room. But if ye wish, I will stand near the door.”
A few moments later, the two guards returned with Keira’s father. She gasped as she saw his bare feet shuffling: there were iron shackles around his ankles and his clothes were ragged and torn. At first glance, she almost did not recognize him. It was not his appearance that was striking but his demeanor. No longer was he the tall, proud man she knew. No longer did he hold his head up high, exuding dominance and confidence. This man before her had been broken; a giant cut down to pieces. What had they done to him?
Instinctively, Keira rushed into his arms, but they remained at his sides. The two guards left the chamber locking the door behind them.
“Keira? What the hell are ye doing here?” her father scoffed. “Ye should no’ be here. Ye must leave!”
“Nay!”
“Where is yer husband? Where is Chisholm? He was supposed to protect ye!”
“That is where ye are wrong. Father, I must know, did ye know that Chisholm was an enemy to the crown? Did ye know that he conspires wit’ the English?”
Magnus looked at her with a cold blank stare. Keira gazed into his eyes and could see the truth. Shaking her head she refused to believe it.
“Father, please tell me is it no’ true.”
“Aye. Keira. I knew.”
Keira stepped back from her father in horror. Her stomach clenched with nausea. She looked back at him in disgust.
“Then why the bloody hell did ye ask me to marry him?”
“The world is changing Keira. I found refuge with Laird Chisholm. Ye must understand, had it no’ been fer him we would have lost everything.”
“But we did lose everything! Chisholm never intended to marry me. He fooled ye father. He fooled us both. He was the one who told the king of yer involvement. While the guards were busy arresting ye, he remains a free mon. Dinna ye understand? Ye sold yer soul to the Devil fer naught. And now ye are to die fer it.”
“I am sorry Keira. But do no’ mourn fer me. Death has no’ come fer me yet and I am no’ afraid to die. But tell me, if Chisholm did no’ bring ye here then who did?”
Keira looked over at her husband who was staring daggers at her father. She could not blame him for being angry with her father.
“This is Ian MacKay, my husband,” she said waiting for her father’s fuming response, but he said nothing.
The two men glowered at each other.
“How did ye become involved in this?” her father asked.
“I was sent to capture Laird Chisholm when I came upon yer daughter before she married the savage beast,” Ian firmly replied.
“Then I offer ye my thanks and trust that ye will keep her safe.”
“She is well protected,” Ian responded.
“Yer time is up,” the guard called out as he entered the room.
“Wait, I am no’ finished,” Keira pleaded.
“I said, ye are finished!” the guard snapped.
~*~
Ian grabbed ahold of Keira’s shoulders and pulled her into him. He did not want trouble.
“Keira.
Its time,” he said gently, trying to focus her attention on him. “Ye have to say goodbye.”
Keira looked at him with tears brimming her eyes but he kept his gaze firm. He could see the pain in her eyes, but denying the inevitable would only prolong her suffering. And they couldn’t afford to cause a ruckus. As much as he wanted to wrap her in his arms, he forced himself to keep a safe distance. After all, he was a man of the cloth, at least that’s what the guards were meant to believe. But once they were alone, he would hold her and comfort her all night if that was how long it took.
“Keira, go!” her father demanded refusing to look at her.
“But Father!”
“Take her away! Keep her safe,” he demanded to Ian.
Ian nodded and pulled Keira out of the room.
As they entered the hall she asked, “What will happen to him?”
“He is to be hanged tomorrow after the trials.”
“But, what of the trial? What of witnesses?”
“Keira, he has already been tried.”
Keira froze in place as if she were the one in shackles. Her face had turned white and she looked sickly. Ian wrapped an arm around her and hurried her down the hall and out of the dungeon. As he led her up the stairs to their chamber, she remained silent. As soon as they entered the bedchamber, Ian held her close. Keira sobbing, buried her face in his chest, soaking his shirt.
“Tis alright lass. We knew this was going to happen. Ye knew we were no’ here to save him.”
“I know,” she faintly replied. “Ian, would that have been my fate had ye no’ married me?”
“Nay! Because I would never have allowed anything to happen to ye.”
“Are ye worried about the trials tomorrow?” she asked, sniffling.
“Nay and neither should ye be.”
~*~
Not worry, he told her! Asking her not to worry was like asking her to keep the sun from rising. It would take a miracle or an act of God to abide by such a request.
The hour was late and Keira had no idea how she would ever sleep knowing what tomorrow would bring. Ian repeatedly asked her to join him in bed, but her mind was too distracted. Gazing into the fire, her mind played out the past several weeks leading up to tomorrow’s trial. She felt angry with herself for having been so blind to what was happening in her own household. Her concern shifted to her sisters. Where were they? Were they safe? She needed to find them. Keira turned to ask Ian if he would send someone out after them, but he was already sound asleep.
Chapter 22
Ian escorted Keira to the back bench inside the courtroom. At the front of the room sitting on the dais, a man who introduced himself as Phillip Stewart, the Sherriff of Ross-Shire, waited quietly as the accused were led into the courtroom and taken to their seats on the front row, her father among them. The twelve men sat humbly as they waited for their trial and judgement.
The courtroom began filling with spectators, many of whom came from miles around to witness the hangings. It seemed the population of Inverness had doubled overnight. Just the number of people attending caused Keira’s nerves to twitch and stomach to tighten.
Witnesses began taking the stand offering their testimony against the accused. It seemed that everyone in the room stood against them. Not one spoke up in their defense.
The room of spectators seemed to only want one outcome. Death! Glancing around the room, Keira saw only hatred in the people’s eyes. After the witnesses gave their accounts, the Sherriff called Magnus to the stand.
“Laird Magnus Sinclair, son of Athol, ye are accused of crimes against the church as well as the King of Scotland. Do ye agree to these charges?” Phillip asked, narrowing his eyes, and looking down at him.
Magnus stood tall, unashamed of his actions as he held his head high.
“I do.”
Phillip lifted his head and addressed the crowd.
“As the accused has admitted guilt, he will be sentenced to death by the gallows. May God have mercy on his soul.”
At Magnus’s confession Keira broke down in tears. Why had he not pleaded for mercy? She could not believe he had done what he was accused of doing. As the guards grabbed Magnus’s arms to escort him out the back door, Keira felt herself close to fainting. She did not have the strength to watch her own father die. The image of him dangling from the rope had already crept in her mind and it was more than she could handle.
“Ian, I wish to return to my room,” she said breathing heavily.
Ian wrapped his arm around her and was just about to do that, when the door to the room swung open and a commotion commenced. Keira glanced behind her and saw Rylan forcing a man into the room. The room fell silent as they stared at the prisoner. Shuffling in behind him was Laird Gudeman and several guards.
Immediately the crowd bowed their heads and the procession continued down the aisle towards the dais. Laird Gudeman took a seat next to Phillip Stewart keeping his attention on the prisoner.
Noticing the crowd’s reaction to Laird Gudeman, she turned to Ian.
“Ian, why is everyone bowing to Laird Gudeman?”
Ian tightly pressed his lips together before answering.
“Ian who is he?” she nervously asked.
“That mon is James, the King of Scotland. To keep himself safe, he travels incognito as Laird Gudeman so that he can mingle among his people. Only a few men know his real identity and it must be kept that way. I am sorry I lied to ye, but it was no’ my secret to tell.”
Keira’s eyes flew back to James. She felt mortified. The things she’d said to him, the way she’d embarrassed herself in front of him, oh God, what must he think of her.
“He must have thought I was mad speaking to him in such an ill-mannered way!”
Ian shook his head and smiled.
“Nay lass. James is a good judge of character. In truth, I think he rather enjoyed yer conversation.”
Keira sat lower in her seat, wanting to hide herself from James’s view.
~*~
“I bring ye Laird Thomas Chisholm. A man accused of treason, conspiring wit’ the English, and attempting to kill James of Scotland,” Rylan stated.
Ian stared in bewilderment. This was Laird Chisholm; the most dangerous man in all the Highlands? This man was nothing more than a weak-looking coward. Chisholm was not a very tall man as rumors would suggest, nor was he built as broad as an ox. It was clear these fabrications were meant to warn off his enemies. In truth, the man looked like nothing more than a mere ruffian. To think that this man would have been Keira’s husband. That thought alone angered him. Chisholm would not have been able to protect her any more than he would have been able to protect himself. Ian could not believe the audacity Keira’s father must have had to agree to such an arrangement.
Rylan picked up the man cowering on the ground by his shirt collar and tossed him onto the wooden bench. Ian studied the man’s movements as Thomas squirmed in his seat. The man did not speak a word, nor did he try to fight off his accusers.
Everything about this situation seemed wrong. His capture seemed far too easy. Had Chisholm planned to be captured by Rylan? Ian was sure the man would not have surrendered so easily unless he was up to something. Although many of the rumors about him proved to be false, he was a cunning and tricky man. It would be easy for him to arrange an attack with his numbers of English supporters and Scottish enemies. Ian surveyed the room, looking at the faces of the men in the crowd, gauging their actions. The sheriff silenced the room.
“Thomas Chisholm, ye stand accused of numerous counts of treason, allying with the English and plotting against the King of Scotland. What do ye say to these charges?”
The room anxiously waited for a response but it was Rylan who spoke up first.
“My Laird, Chisholm can no’ give his testimony to his charges. He does no’ have the ability to speak.”
The crowd in the room began to whisper. Rylan continued.
“Before I came upon him, the bloody bastard cu
t out his own tongue.”
The buzzing whispers of the onlookers grew louder. Ian felt the sleeve of his shirt being tugged as Keira clutched her hand around his arm.
Leaning toward him, she whispered, “Why would he do such a horrid thing?”
Ian turned to her. “Probably because he knew that if he were to be tortured, his secrets would go wit’ him to the grave.”
“Laird Chisholm,” the sheriff said, “I assume yer hearing is fine. Do ye admit to these charges?”
Everyone looked back at Chisholm awaiting an answer. He sat upright on his seat and vigorously shook his head, denying the charges. The sheriff looked at James who gave a nod of his head.
“As ye can no’ speak and nay one has come forth and offered to speak fer ye, it is my belief based on the evidence that ye, Laird Thomas Christopher Chisholm are guilty of all charges. Therefore, it is this court’s ruling that ye shall be sentenced to death.”
~*~
As Chisholm was hauled away, Rylan, Ian and Keira quickly left the courtroom before the mass of witnesses came piling out to view the hangings.
“Rylan what happened?” Ian asked, still not feeling right about the situation.
“I came upon a small group of men camped along the border. They had captured Chisholm fer the award on his head and meant to bring him here. I escorted them and kept Chisholm in custody.”
“It just does no’ seem right,” Ian said.
“What do ye mean?”
“Dinna ye think it was odd that it has taken us months to hunt him down and capture him and yet it only took a few men to succeed?”
“What are ye thinking?” Rylan asked.
“I am thinking that there is something else going on.”
“That may be but Chisholm is now in the custody of the king’s guards. We fulfilled our mission Ian, and now can return home.”
“Aye, maybe yer right.”
“Are ye no’ providing yer testimony to the court?” Keira nervously asked.
“James has already granted ye pardon. I spoke to him this morning,” Rylan said.
“He did?”
“Aye. He said that he had a verra interesting conversation wit’ ye last night,” Rylan assured her.
