“Aye, I remember it well,” he said and smiled. “He is a good man, and your marriage will do much to ensure peace among the Highland clans.”
“I thought so, too,” she said.
“Has something happened to MacKenzie? Has he broken the betrothal?”
“No, not him. My brother and the king.”
The bishop sat back. “The king? But why would he do such a thing where there is so much to gain in the alliance?”
“That is a question I cannot answer, Your Grace. But the broken betrothal is not why I come asking for sanctuary.”
“Go on, my child. Tell me the rest,” he said, leaning forward and reaching his hands out to hers.
Muren let him hold her hands. His were large and warm, making hers feel small and frail. She despised the feeling.
“My brother and the king have broken my betrothal to Rorie MacKenzie so that I may become attached to…William Douglas.”
The bishop blinked a couple of times then released her hands and stood. “William Douglas? From Lancashire?”
“The very same.”
“Well, I can see why you are concerned. The man’s reputation precedes him ‘ere he travels.”
“Do you know him in person, Your Grace?”
“Aye, I have had the misfortune to be in his company at court. The man aims to put the king in his pocket and will not rest until he possesses half or all of Scotland.”
“ ’Tis not his ambition that worries me, Your Grace.”
The bishop returned to his seat and reached for her hands again. “I have heard the stories as well, but I do not have any evidence to verify or dispute them. But I can attest to the man’s greed and temper. This I have seen first-hand. Sweet child, you are much too gentle in temperament to take on a man of his ilk. What in heaven’s name can your brother be thinking?”
“He will not say anything other than the king made it impossible for him to refuse.”
“That’s not the Ronan I know.”
“Nor I, Your Grace. And ‘tis my life hanging in the balance of these schemes between men with all the power, whereas I have none.”
“And what of MacKenzie? What has he to say about all of this?”
“I have not spoken with him.” She drew in a steadying breath. “He has visited twice, and twice left without me. I fear he will not press his interest.” Muren lowered her gaze to her lap. She had not realized she’d been clenching her fists. What a gnarly turn of events.
“Then ‘tis settled. Muren Sutherland, I grant you sanctuary. You may remain here as long as you wish, or I can have you escorted to a larger abbey to the south, even Holyrood Abbey if you choose, though I suspect you would not wish to be closer to the king or Douglas.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I wish to remain here in this abbey.”
“I will make all the arrangements and inform your brother.”
Muren hadn’t thought of that. “Does he really need to know?”
“Aye, it is my duty to inform the family of the whereabouts of those seeking sanctuary so that they may not worry needlessly.”
“Does it make me a bad sister if I say I would not mind if he worried a little?”
Bishop de Strathbrook smiled. “It does not. Perhaps my missive could be delayed a day or two.”
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Grace. My time here will allow me to decide what it is I wish to do and how to make that happen.”
“Very well. Now you stay here and warm yourself while I see to your sleeping arrangements. There is another chamber available for a priest in residence, though we have not had one of those in a long time. I suggest you remain unseen for the time being. No need to draw unwanted attention.”
When he left, Muren leaned back in the chair. At least the immediate threat was over. Now she could turn her mind to prayer and meditation and what she could do from this point onward.
* * *
Raising his arms to the crowd seated around the table, Rorie waited until the din in the hall settled. He’d called on his war council to discuss their options for removing Muren from Dunrobin. He’d already decided he would hide her at Eilean Donan. There were plenty of empty bedchambers and, considering the castle was on an island, Douglas would not step foot inside it.
“Are ye telling us we’re going to war with Sutherland and the king, Rorie?” Hugh MacKenzie asked.
“Aye, if they insist on giving Muren to that monster, we are,” Rorie said.
“But we don’t have the men!” Connor said from the end of the table.
“We do when you add MacKay and MacDonald to the numbers.”
“MacDonald has married the queen’s cousin. There’s no way he will stand against the man now,” Hugh said.
Hugh had a point, but MacDonald had said he would help, especially since Rorie would not take the man’s land.
“We have MacDonald’s support in this. He told me so himself. While he may not stand on the battlefield with us, he can help in other ways.”
“Like what?”
“Like paying for ships and supplies,” Rorie said.
“Are we sailing somewhere then?” Hugh asked.
“Aye,” Rorie replied. “We’re going to Dunrobin, then we’ll hide the ships in the bay on the western side of Rona.”
“But that’s no place to keep a lady.”
“She won’t be there. I’ll cross to Kinellen and then to Eilean Donan with her on horseback. We’ll keep to the old roads and sleep on the ground if we have to.”
“So, you mean for us to create a diversion then?” Hugh said with a grin.
“Aye, that I do. And the more bluster you can make while you’re at it, the better,” Rorie said.
The scheme was elaborate, and much could fail, but with MacKay’s men and MacDonald’s coin, they just might be able to pull it off.
After the men settled into their appraisal of the plot, Ewen placed their sea map on the table. Pointing to their starting point at Loch Alsh and then tracing his finger around the north of Scotland and back down the north-eastern side, he said, “This is no easy sail, Rorie.”
“Aye, but we did it before and for that bastard, Ronan, if you remember.”
“I do. How many ships do you suggest we take?”
“All of them? We want him to think we’re attacking from the sea. What he won’t know is that you and I will go ashore north of Golspie and wait for our opportunity to enter the castle and rescue her. We will head west with her just as he sees our ships in the bay.”
“It sounds good in theory, Rorie,” Ewen said. “It will take us a week to sail around to Golspie. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather ride across land with the men instead?”
“No. This is a diversion. Ronan knows we do not have the numbers to attack him on land. If he sees our ships, he will think we mean to attack from the beach and so will divert his men in that direction away from us.”
“I have to admit, brother, you’re getting better at this strategy business.”
Rorie smiled for the first time in weeks. He supposed he had the right kind of motivation this time around. “So, now that you know the guts of my plan, it’s your job to tell me what I’ve missed.”
“Aye,” Ewen said. “Very well, we have nineteen ships, each requiring twenty-four men to sail. That’s less than five hundred men and not much of a threat to a man who has an army of two thousand that can be amassed in a matter of days.”
“Ahhh, but you forget, we don’t need to engage him. We just need him to believe Muren is on the ship,” Rorie pointed out.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“You shall use that charm of yours on one of the maids and have her share an important piece of information at an opportune moment.”
Ewen grinned. “I hear Sutherland lassies are not so easily charmed.”
“I’m certain you will have a grand time finding out.”
With that, Rorie left his brother to work out the details of which men to sail in whic
h boat. Sailors were a hearty lot, but not all were of the same temperament, so it was important to select the crews carefully. This was where Ewen excelled, on the finer points of the plan. Together they worked well, and there was no doubt Rorie trusted no one more.
Much of the respect he’d inherited came without question, but there was always an element of contention when the chiefship passed from one to another. Ewen had been key in aiding Rorie to work out the sort of chief he wanted to be. And they’d succeeded. The men did not say they would not follow him, but they would not go blindly off to battle either. He respected that. It meant his men were used to thinking and having a voice, something he would honour.
Chapter Four
Muren paced in her chamber. The bishop had been true to his word. She’d been afforded the utmost in comfort as could be found in an abbey, with a chamber, clothes, more food than she could eat, and a warm bed. What more could one wish for? Well, as far as the basic comforts went. Muren spent her days in silent prayer in the sanctuary. Truth be told, sometimes she found herself swept away by the ornate beauty of the stained-glass windows and intricate carvings of the stations of the cross on the inside pillars. She had not felt this much at peace since living with her mother at Strathnaver. Thankfully, she’d not experienced another magryme since leaving Dunrobin.
There was no doubt her affliction was intensified at any time in her life when she was troubled. But something else had washed over her during her time at the abbey. For the first time in her life, no one was telling her what she must do. Her mother had coddled her, especially when the pains in her head overtook her, which was understandable, but Muren had never been given the opportunity to stand on her own two feet. And Ronan had just proved he was not capable of protecting her; Rorie was gone. Who did that leave?
No one except herself.
Well, by God, she would prove to herself and everyone else that she was not frail and did not need nor want their interference. Never again. Muren drew in a deep, steadying breath.
Peace was a fleeting commodity in these times. Word had come the day before from her brother, in response to the bishop’s missive about her location. To say he was furious was a mild understatement. The words in his reply were of no use to Muren, since she could not read, but the heat was there as the bishop read them, though he had tried to be kind.
She squared her shoulders and glanced at the door time and again. Ronan had said he would come and collect her before the noon hour. What had taken her hours to walk would surely take him much less on his destrier. The road leading to Dornoch from Golspie was dry and flat. She expected him at any minute, considering it had been hours since the sun had risen.
A light tapping on the door made her jump. Her throat went dry, and the courage she had been working hard to muster melted away.
“Muren, ‘tis me, Freya.”
Muren rushed to the door and opened it wide. Upon seeing her sister-in-law’s kind face, she flung herself into the woman’s arms.
“Is Ronan here? Is he much vexed?”
Freya pulled out of her embrace. “Aye, Muren, he is here, and it took a lot of coaxing on my part to convince him to let me come up here first. He does not know of my part in this, but I stand by you if you feel the need to be fully truthful in what has passed.”
“I have no intention of telling him anything about your part in this. Were it not for you, I would be betrothed to Douglas by now. We may not have bought much time, but we have bought some, and we have the support of the bishop as well. Freya, he was mortified to learn to whom Ronan would give me.”
“I am glad to hear it, but I am grieved to tell you that Ronan is more determined than ever to see this through.”
“Muren!”
Ronan’s voice boomed from the sanctuary. Muren jumped again and did her best to hold her composure. Cowering before him would get her nowhere. He’d always had a strong demeanour, but had so far protected her. So, there had never been a time when she felt it necessary to stand up to him. If she did not do so now, she would be right back to where she started a sennight ago, and what good would all of this have done?
Muren straightened her shoulders and set her jaw. Enough was enough. She was not marrying Douglas, and Ronan would not make her. She’d take nuns’ vows this very moment if she had to, in order to prove her point.
“I am here,” she said in the strongest clearest voice she could muster.
Freya’s brows shot up. “Muren, what are you doing? He has his mind made up.”
“So do I,” she said.
Muren marched out toward the sanctuary to where her brother and the bishop waited. She stopped just a few feet before them so she would not have to look up so far, and placed her hands on her hips.
“This is a house of God, Ronan. You disrespect it by shouting the place down looking for me.”
Ronan’s jaw slacked, as did the bishop’s.
“What is it you want?” she asked, riding the brief victory she was awarded from their expressions.
Ronan recovered first. “You will return to Dunrobin at once, and do your duty as I have bid.”
Muren almost laughed. Truly, she did not know what had come over her. Even an hour ago she would have done everything he told her to do. What had clicked in her to bring about this change she could not say, but she had not felt this determined in a long time.
“I will do no such thing.”
Ronan blinked at her. “You will,” he said, though a little less convincing than last time.
His tone fuelled Muren’s confidence. “I will only return to Dunrobin on the condition that my betrothal to Douglas is broken immediately, and that I may choose the man I wish to marry when the time comes that I feel ready.”
To this, Ronan’s jaw slacked again.
“She has meditated on this much in the past few days, Ronan. I can assure you she has done little else besides eat, sleep, and pray.”
Ronan turned to the bishop and frowned. “I can see that there has been a change in her. But I did not expect to find an absolute change in demeanour. Are you certain she has not become possessed?”
“Ronan!” Freya stood between Muren and her husband. “How dare you trivialize Muren’s new-found courage. It is from the bull-headed decisions you have made that transformed her, not the kindness and compassion shown to her by His Grace. If you do not concede to Muren’s demands, I may just take our bairns and move in here with her.”
“So, what is this? A mutiny?”
“Aye,” Muren said, stepping out from behind Freya. “Call it what you like, but I will not go willingly to the Douglas to endure God knows what horrors, and you are uncharacteristically cruel to expect it of me. What happened to the brother who always swore to protect me? How could he possibly agree to give me to a monster? Considering what our mother endured by your father, I cannot imagine you so heartless.”
Muren did not regret her words, even when they appeared to hit Ronan like a blow. He slumped onto a bench and held his hands in his head. Freya rushed to him and placed her arms around him.
“Ronan, what is it? What did the king say to you to make you agree to this madness?”
Ronan took a deep breath and looked up at Muren with despair in his eyes. “Muren, I’m so sorry. King James assured me he would provide an honourable man for the match, and offer sufficient compensation for the MacKenzies, who we all know needed the money since the elder chief squandered away so much in the last year.”
“But even when I flatly refused, you became even more determined.”
“I agree with Muren, Ronan,” Freya said. “This was not just an alternate arrangement you agreed to on a whim. You acted like there was much more at stake here.”
“What was it, Ronan? What did the king say to you?”
“He said he would reverse the writ and allow the Earldom to revert back to the crown. He threatened to take it all and to force all the chiefs of the north to bend to his authority. Muren, I am sorry, I would have never agreed t
o this had I realized he would send a monster to you.”
“He is a menace who needs to be reined in,” the bishop said.
Muren could not have been more shocked if she tried. The church and the crown did not always concur. However, this particular bishop made it a point not to ruffle royal feathers.
“What are you saying, Your Grace?” Ronan asked. “Do you support me in defiance? Do you know what it will mean to the people up here if the king is allowed to rule from Edinburgh Castle?”
“What does it mean?” Muren asked.
Ronan turned to her with sadness in his eyes. “It means that the king’s magistrates will be allowed to be judge and jury in his stead. Men from the south, who know nothing of our Highland ways, imposing laws that make no sense to our way of life.”
Muren’s belly coiled. So, she was to be sacrificed in order to preserve the way of life of thousands. But what a sacrifice it was! Could she survive it? Could she survive him?
“If I were to go with him now, how long would this peace last? I remember the king promising you that the chiefs could retain their power. How long before he changes his mind again, and then I’m stuck in the belly of the beast for all time?”
Muren clenched her fists. The king abused his right to make decisions for the greater good of the people in order to line his pockets.
“Is it true the Douglas has aided in the construction of Linlithgow Palace? Is that why the king is so anxious to help him?”
“Aye, from what I understand.”
“So, he pays off his debt with my life, and gains full control over the Highlands in the same deal!” Muren couldn’t believe her own words. She had assumed the situation would be dire, and wished now that Ronan had explained this all to her earlier. Not that she had any further clarity on the situation, but at least now she knew all the pieces of the puzzle.
And what of Rorie? Twice he’d come, and twice he’d left. How would he react if he knew all of this? If only he had gotten word to her. At this point, she could not be certain if he had accepted Ronan’s decision or not. Either way, Muren was determined to find another solution to satisfy all parties involved.
Heart of the Highlander Page 3
