The chamber was empty but for a pitcher of water that sat nearby and a basin to pish in against the opposite wall. A tiny window embedded in the door gave him a dim view of a torch in the passageway.
He’d actually been thrown in a dungeon. Over the years, he’d heard many tales of Grants who’d suffered just such a fate. Loki’s adventures had always been his favorite. But Chrissa’s mother and Branwen had been locked up too. He would have to be strong.
Chrissa. He stood, bracing himself because his head pained him so badly, then crept over to the window to look out. There was one other chamber across from him and down a bit, so he whispered. “Chrissa? Dyna?”
He hoped no one else had been caught, but he highly doubted anyone was after him. If they had targeted their group, it had to be for one of the Grant lasses. But which one?
“Chrissa?”
Dead silence.
He didn’t like that either.
***
Chrissa had a problem. She had to pee furiously, and though she’d asked to stop so she could take care of her needs, they’d ignored her. The need only became worse with every bounce of the horse, especially when the bastard she rode with forced her to a sitting position, settling her on his lap so he could fondle her. She didn’t like that one bit, and she had a sudden inspiration on how to make him stop.
So she did it. She pished her leggings, soaking his hand before the liquid spread from her clothing to his trews.
When he stopped his horse and roared in a fury, tossing her off the side, she guessed he was a wee bit wet.
He took the bag off her head and slapped her. “You no-good whore.”
“Try touching me again, you hedge-born bastard.”
He yanked her forward by her bound hands, making sure to wipe his hands on her tunic.
When one of his peers noticed the wetness on the two of them, he burst into laughter. She didn’t know either of them, so she focused on memorizing her surroundings. They’d come upon a dilapidated, deserted castle, its curtain wall incomplete but the keep in decent shape.
Unfortunately, she didn’t recognize it.
They yanked her across the hall and all but shoved her down a narrow, dank staircase before giving her a push down one of four passageways. When they reached the last door before it dead-ended, one captor opened it and pushed her inside. The second one tossed her saddlebag in behind her.
His friend asked, “Why the hell did you do that? We’re not an inn.”
“Because she pished herself.”
“So let her sit in it.” He locked the door behind her and peeked at her through the small window embedded in it. “I’d make you sit in it.”
She caught the saddlebag since he’d untied her hands but said nothing.
“Why did you even grab it off the horse?” He asked his friend as they left down the hall.
“Wanted to make sure there was a Grant plaid inside.”
“Is there?”
“Aye.”
“I told you she was a Grant. Consider her protection. Our last resort.” Their voices disappeared as they moved up the steps.
It occurred to her that her mother had once been left in a dungeon too, a thought that made her feel braver. Glancing around in the dark, she picked out a pitcher full of water plus a basin. She assumed it had been left out so she could take care of her needs.
When she had the chance, she’d wash her leggings, but until then, she smelled, so she changed and cleaned herself up to the best of her ability, still smirking over what she’d done.
She didn’t know if she could ever admit it.
But that thought brought her back to Drostan, the one person she’d definitely never tell.
Where the hell was he?
***
Alex made his way through the great hall, stopping at the trestle table halfway across. His old bones had aged enough that he struggled to make it across without stopping. He’d never expected to live this long—almost eight decades—but he had a purpose.
At least, that was what his wife had told him in his dreams. There were things he had to do before he could leave and join her in heaven. Each day he grew more weary, more ready. There were many people he’d love to see again besides Maddie—his parents, his brother, his son and his wife, and the bairn he and Maddie had never gotten to know. And so many more. Too many.
He sat in the large chair at the hearth, setting his wooden support down, and gave himself the chance to look over the group in the hall. How proud he was of his family, his clan.
Jamie and Connor were situated around the hearth, their wives and bairns not far. He suspected they were still debating the numbers to send to King Robert. Midsummer’s Day was less than a fortnight away. They were all dedicated to contribute whatever they could to the battle. It was time to end the tyranny of King Edward II.
A noise caught his attention by the door. Visitors. Something he loved more than anything simply because his kin were spread far and wide. To his surprise, it was his brother Brodie and the clan from Muir Castle. Brodie’s son Braden was there, along with his wife, Cairstine. Robbie’s son Roddy and his wife, Rose, had also come, and both families had their bairns.
Cairstine’s son Steenie rushed over to his side first. “Greetings to you, Uncle Alex.”
“Steenie, will you ever stop growing? I think you may be taller than Connor.”
Steenie threw his shoulders back a bit to enhance his height. “Aye, I’m tall, but my goal is to develop sword skills as strong as yours were.”
Alex peered around him at the rest of the group. “Is your wife carrying again?”
“Aye, she is. Still wants a laddie, although I’m loving my lassies.”
“Steenie, sit with me for a wee bit. I have a question for you.” He waved his brother and nephews away, wishing to speak with Steenie alone.
“Aye?” Steenie pulled a chair up.
“It’s about your pony. The one who everyone thought had an old spirit inside him. I remember the stories about him verra well, about how he came to you, protected you, and then he showed up at Muir Castle on his own. I heard he even helped you find a lass who’d been buried in the snow. He led Braden to a cave where she’d been living with her younger brother. Is this all true?”
“Paddy? Aye. He was an amazing pet and a true friend to me. How he knew some things, I’ll never know. We lost him several years ago. Oddly enough, sometimes I feel he’s still around watching over our daughters. What do you wish to know about him?”
“Humor this old man who’s trying to learn about this world I’ve lived in for so long. How did you find Paddy?”
Steenie rubbed his chin, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. “Give me a moment to think on it, Uncle Alex. The memory is slow to come, and I was only around five summers.”
“Take your time, son. I’d like to hear the full story.”
He had his reasons for asking. As he approached the end of his long life, he found himself wondering if perhaps he was wrong. What if he wasn’t going to meet up with his dear Maddie when he passed on? He’d always had a strong belief in the hereafter, but part of him longed for proof.
Was there a heaven? Would he see the others who’d passed before him?
Steenie tapped his finger against his chin, then dropped his hand down, leaning back in the chair with a smile. “I remember leaving Muir Castle in the middle of the night. My true sire, the bastard, had forced me to sleep alone in the hall, which I hated, and my mother was in the dungeon.”
Alex only arched a brow at this travesty, not wishing to interrupt the lad’s thoughts.
“I went outside to relieve myself, then ended up outside the gates because I had brought my play sword. I wasn’t paying much attention to what I was doing, to be honest, and suddenly there was Paddy, nudging me with his muzzle.”
“He found you, not the other way around?”
“Aye. I recall that I was staring at the stars when he nudged my elbow. I never heard or saw him approach.
I tried to direct him back to Muir Castle, but all he did was shake his mane at me and snort. He led me to Grant land. I had naught to do with the direction he headed. It was a long trip, and I do believe I slept on him for part of it. Otherwise I don’t think I could have made it this far on my own. I have to believe ’twas some sort of divine intervention.”
“Interesting.” He paused, then added, “Didn’t Brodie tell me that at one time you thought he could communicate with you?”
“Aye, the more time I spent with him, the more I believed I could hear his thoughts. Whether it was true or just the fancy of a young lad longing for a friend, I know not, but it was as if whatever he wished me to know would just pop into my head. Like how many swords to make for Christmas the year he found the bairns sheltering in the cave. I only wished to make two, but he gave me a nudge and this voice in my head said, ‘You need to make more. And get some ribbons.’ Some people thought I was daft, but I swear he could send his thoughts to me.”
“Did he do it with anyone else?”
“Not to my knowledge,” he said, sweeping his brownish-red locks back from his face. “He was a beloved pet to me. Our stableman used to tell everyone he was an old spirit. He was afraid of him.” That made Steenie chuckle.
Alex laughed with him.
“What do you think?” He wasn’t sure he would like Steenie’s answer, but he had to ask.
“That I’ll see him again someday. He told me so right before he died. His head rested on my lap…” He stopped to take a few breaths, the memory clearly painful for him. “He rested against me for two hours before he passed on. That wee pony treated me better than my true sire. He protected our first wee lassie after she was born, always acted as a guard whenever we set her in the basket.”
“He told you he would see you again?” Alex pressed, his heart beating fast in his chest as he thought of Maddie in her white night rail.
“Aye. I fell asleep in the stables, and in my dream, I stood there as a bairn again, waving to him as trotted away. He said we’d meet again. ’Tis how I’ll always remember him. When my mother woke me up, he’d already passed.”
Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Any of your lassies have a pony as a pet?”
“Nay, dogs. No more ponies. Paddy was too stubborn and unpredictable. Why do you ask about him, Uncle Alex?”
“My mind turns toward the hereafter as I grow older, and I found myself wondering about your relationship with the wee beast. Sometimes the veil between our world and the one beyond is thinner than others.”
“Aye,” Steenie said. “Do you recall Rose’s owl? She believed her sire’s spirit was in that bird. And what about the woman in white and the thunderstorm at Sona Abbey?”
“Have I heard that one?”
“Connor and Roddy saw a spirit in the middle of a thunderstorm.”
“Send Connor over, please,” Alex said, deep in thought. But there was no need. His son glanced over sharply, hearing his name, and a small gesture got him moving. “Many thanks to you, Steenie. Enjoy your stay with us. You’re welcome anytime.”
Connor sat at Alex’s side. “What is it, Papa? You are hale?”
“I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere yet, but Steenie mentioned something that I never heard about. Or perhaps I’m so old I’ve forgotten. Did you witness a ghost at Sona Abbey?”
Connor shrugged after glancing over his shoulder.
Alex caught his movement and quickly asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Look over your shoulder. Who are you checking for?”
“No one…it’s just, she was…I haven’t thought about her in a long time. She made me look over my shoulder for many moons. And you’re not forgetting. We never said anything because we thought we were losing our minds.”
“We?”
“Roddy and me the first time. Daniel saw her another time. Then Sela.”
“All of you and you never told me?” Alex was shocked something so unusual had transpired in his clan and he knew nothing about it.
“Because it didn’t happen on Grant land. Papa, you were a busy man.” His father narrowed his gaze at him, waiting for his explanation. Connor continued, “The first time was at Sona Abbey in the middle of a thunderstorm. We were the only ones in their guest house. At the time, I had trouble believing it was happening.”
“Go on.”
“A female ghost appeared in front of Roddy and me. She had blonde hair and a white gown with a blue band around the waist. We could see through her. I know it sounds odd, but her looks changed. One time she had red hair.”
“Who saw her then?”
Connor thought for a moment. “Daniel and I. We were in Inverness, I believe.”
“So the red hair was because of Constance.”
“Aye. How’d you know? Each time we had to save someone. First Rose, then Constance, then Sela.”
“Did she speak?”
“Verra little. All I remember her saying is, ‘You must save her.’ ’Tis what sticks in my mind. ’Twas a verra long time ago.” Connor watched his father, waiting for his response, but he never got one.
“What’s bothering you, Papa? What brought this up?”
Alex shrugged his shoulder. “Curiosity. I’ve been thinking about otherworldly events. Things that cannot be explained. I asked Steenie about Paddy, and he mentioned your ghost and Rose’s owl.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’ll have to ask Rose about the owl. All I know is that it watched over her.” He waved to her from across the chamber, calling her name. She and Roddy walked over together and offered their greetings.
“Papa was asking me about anything otherworldly we’d ever experienced or heard about,” Connor said. With a slight smirk, he turned to Roddy. “I told him what I recalled about our abbey ghost. I figured you wouldn’t mind anymore after all these years. Besides, Steenie knew about it, and I certainly didn’t tell him.”
“I’ve heard all I need to about that,” Alex said. “I’d love to hear more about this owl, Rose.”
She sighed. “I believed Papa’s spirit lived inside the owl to watch over me. He knew Mama was evil, and he couldn’t rest until I escaped from her. Once my mother’s deeds were uncovered, I rarely saw him again.”
“Did he communicate with you in any way?”
“Not directly. I wish he had.”
“He sure made me uncomfortable,” Roddy offered. “I was trying to sneak a kiss once in the courtyard, and the owl persisted in staring at me. Even squawked once. I didn’t dare do it again.”
Roddy and Rose left to join the others, and Connor said, “I can’t believe you’re asking all these questions after what you’ve observed with the spectral swords. If that isn’t evidence of otherworldly elements, I don’t know what is. The lightning, the thunder. The lads swear they can swing their swords much easier when they’re all together, and we both know my Dyna knows things she cannot. What exactly is driving your curiosity, Papa?”
Their conversation was cut short when the door leading outside burst open. Alasdair, Emmalin, Els, and Joya had arrived, he observed with satisfaction, along with their bairns. He’d been waiting for this moment.
Connor jumped out of his chair. “I’ll welcome them.”
“Send Alasdair and John here, please.”
His son acknowledged his request with a nod before heading toward the door. As he approached the newcomers, however, a couple burst in after Alasdair’s group.
Derric and Dyna, and Dyna was inconsolable. She looked straight at her father and shouted, “They’ve taken Chrissa and Drostan.”
Alex muttered to himself, “Here we go again.”
Chapter Thirteen
Drostan heard the key in the lock before the door opened, surprised to see two people he knew step inside: Sheriffs Percy and DeFry. The latter tossed him a chunk of stale bread. His hands had been bound, so an attack would be difficult, but he could figure out another way to fight back if need be.
First he needed to find out more about the situation, including whether Derric and Dyna had been captured too.
“This is my meal for the day?” he muttered. “You feed me well. Where’s my partner?” He wasn’t sure they would remember Chrissa’s name, so he decided to play it safe. It would be best if they didn’t know she was a Grant.
“Chrissa is in another cell in the tower room. You’re in the dungeon of the keep. You’re far away from each other, so don’t bother trying to call out to her. I heard you the last night. Don’t waste your time and strength,” DeFry said.
“A couple of proud and loyal Scots standing in front of me,” Drostan said flatly. “Wouldn’t your clans be proud? Although I swear I heard DeFry mentioned as a trustworthy sheriff. I’ll try my best to remember the name of the fool who told me that.”
“I’m sure it was Chrissa’s cousin Alasdair, or possibly Dyna,” DeFry said. “The matter is a simple one: coin ranks above all else, and Edward pays more than Robert. Someday you’ll understand, but you’re young and naïve. Going to conquer the world, are you not?”
“Nay,” Drostan drawled. “Just England.”
Percy crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Now what will we do with you? ’Tis too early to use you as a bargaining chip. Though once we are closer to Midsummer’s Day, your pretty wee lassie will be an advantage for sure.”
“Is that what we are to you? You think you can bargain with the Grants? I doubt it.”
“Aye, because we won’t ask for much. All we need to know is when the Grants are set to leave for Stirling, and how many men they’re sending.”
“I’m a Grant warrior. I don’t sit in on their solar meetings, nor am I in charge of anything. They won’t bargain for me.” He spat coarsely off to the side, a small way to let them know what he thought of them.
“Yet you travel with their spies, Corbett and his wife, so you must be worth something,” DeFry said. “I’m sure we can convince the Ramsays not to stand for the Bruce if they know we have both of you…whether we still have you or not.”
The Scot's Deception (Highland Swords Book 5) Page 10
