“How was yer walk, son?” she asked, laying aside her wool and smiling at him through the flickering light.
“Aye, a pleasant enough walk, mother, and I found this too,” he said, taking the broach out from his pocket and showing it to her.
“A fine thing indeed, was it amongst the wreckage? There must have been some wealthy passengers aboard that ship,” Lady Dunbar replied.
“Aye, in a strong box washed up on the beach, I will keep it for now, but perhaps it would make a fine gift for Ailsa,” Bryce replied.
“Ye have feelings for her then, son?” his mother said, as Bryce blushed.
“Well … I … I dinnae ken Mother. She is lovely, and very beautiful, I shall happily admit as much, but she is betrothed, I cannae …” Bryce began.
“She is betrothed to a man who will nae love her, and certainly nae as much as ye would. I think the two of ye are quite made for each other, why nae allow yerself the chance, Bryce? She is a lovely lass, and there are few around who match her,” she replied.
“Aye, Mother, she is a lovely lass, that much is certain,” Bryce replied, looking wistfully into the fire and allowing himself to imagine he and Ailsa together, a delightful thought and one which, try as he might, he could not rid himself of.
Chapter 6
Treachery’s Revenge
Hamish Macleod had not gone to the inn in the village, instead he had made straight for the harborside, where several of the shipmen were huddled in a little hut by the shore. They were less than pleased to be disturbed, a squally wind having picked up and the rain beginning to fall.
“I must be taken to McKinnon Island,” he said, entering the hut as the men rolled dice and drank whisky.
“There is nay passage across the waters tonight, Hamish Macleod, cannae ye see the weather, we would be dashed upon the rocks,” one of them said.
“I have word for the Laird, he must hear this,” Hamish replied.
But the men simply laughed at him and went back to their drinking, leaving Hamish with only one choice. He was a foolish man and had been far too quick to fall in with Stewart McKinnon and his men. The thought of money and a reward was enough to make him run down to the harbor and drag down one of the boats, pushing it out into the waves, which were beginning to grow in strength.
Across the waters he could just make out the faint light of the fire which was always kept burning by the shoreline to guide the ships towards the island. It did not look so far away, and Hamish sneered back towards the hut, calling the shipmen cowards and all manner of curses under his breath.
He himself was no oarsman but now he took up the oars and pulled out into the harbor, the currents taking him immediately and dragging the little ship out into the channel beyond. It was the thought of money which drove him, and he heaved stroke after stroke, as the little ship was tossed upon the waters. There was something of a madness to him, and having overheard the Laird and his mother speaking of Ailsa, and the fact that she would be allowed to remain at the castle as long as she should choose, he knew he had to tell Stewart McKinnon, if only to secure his reward.
The ship was now out in the current and the wind was battering it this way and that. Hamish rode on, the waves banking the little ship and at time almost causing it to tip. But he kept his eyes on the island ahead and it was not long before the shoreline was more clearly visible. Above, the moon was obscured by clouds, occasionally casting its light down upon the sea, its white, milky glow reflecting from the frothing waves and tumultuous waters, which tossed and threw the ship up and down.
At one-point Hamish lost control, and the ship hurtled along a channel, rushing with the current back out to sea. But with a great effort he righted it, turning the ship back just as a wave crashed over the side, soaking him from head to foot.
“Curses,” he cried, but there was no one to hear him, only the vast ocean beyond and the roaring wind above.
After what seemed like an age he finally came to the shore and as he did so, the weather seemed to calm, the ship cruising along towards the natural harbor where the fire burned close to the shore. A shelter was constructed over it, and he could see the fire tenders sat huddled around the flames.
“Hey, ye, help me now,” he called out, as the men looked up in surprise to see him.
They ambled across the beach, clearly unhappy at being disturbed from their place by the fire and Hamish leaped out of the ship, pulling it through the surf and up onto the beach.
“Tis’ a fool who crosses the waters on such a night, whatever possessed ye to row out like this? Tis’ a wonder ye were nae killed, the waters are treacherous, dinnae ye ken that?” one of the men said, but Hamish dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“I have to see the Laird, immediately,” he replied.
“The Laird is holdin’ a feast tonight, he will nae like to be disturbed from his victuals,” the other man said, as they dragged the boat up the beach.
“He will see me, I assure ye,” Hamish said, and without another word he hurried off along the beach towards the castle.
***
The McKinnon clan were gathered in the Great Hall of the castle. They had assembled at the Laird’s command, to toast the forthcoming attack upon the castle of the Dunbar’s and as a show of strength, in support of their Laird. The hall was well lit, filled with much merriment and several barrels of ale and whisky had been tapped, ensuring that the gathering was raucous and unruly, just like Stewart McKinnon himself.
“When the sea is calm, we shall sail across the waters to the Dunbar castle and see to it that Bryce Dunbar pays a pretty price for kidnappin’ my betrothed,” Stewart said, cutting vigorously into a haunch of roasted venison and swigging from his tankard, the frothy ale spilling down his beard.
“Aye, Laird, we shall see to it that he pays for tryin’ to take what is nae his,” one of the clansmen replied.
“We shall seize his castle and banish him from his lands, I have been too lenient with that young lad, and now nothin’ but a wrecker, shinin’ his lights out to sea and drivin’ ships on to the rocks,” Stewart said, the men around him once more rousing themselves against Bryce and his clan.
The feasting went on long into the night and as the fire burned low, Stewart McKinnon sat back in satisfaction. Loosening his belt and calling for more whisky to be brought.
“Laird, there is a man to see ye, he says tis’ urgent,” the servant said, pointing to the doorway where Hamish Macleod stood.
“Ah, what does he want now, the man is only interested in money. Send him over,” Stewart replied, beckoning Hamish towards him.
“Laird, I have news of Ailsa, news of what Bryce Dunbar intends for her,” Hamish said, coming close to the Laird’s table and smiling nervously at him, as though seeking his favor and approval.
“Aye, spit it out then, man, what is it ye have to say?” Stewart said, looking Hamish up and down with disdain. He disliked the man, though he knew him to be useful, the sort that would betray anyone if the price was right.
“Today I overheard the Laird speaking with his mother, they intend to allow the girl to remain if she wishes. Bryce Dunbar said that if she wishes to remain at the castle, then he shall allow it and prevent anyone from takin’ her back,” Hamish said.
Stewart McKinnon laughed.
“Ye hear that men, Bryce Dunbar has the lass wrecked, then takes her in and will prevent anyone from takin’ her away. I say, the man is a treacherous fool if he believes that and we shall see to it that his castle is smited and he along with all his loyal clansmen is run from this place out into the wilderness beyond, and if he resists, well …” Stewart said, laughing, as all around the room drunken cries for war went up and the men called out the name of their Laird, chanting for the victory that would be theirs.
“Now,” Stewart said, returning his attention to Hamish Macleod, “ye are to return to the castle of the Dunbar’s and watch for us, we will be comin’ just as soon as this weather has calmed, and the sea is safe
to cross. When ye sight the ships ye must dae everythin’ in yer power to make sure our entry to the castle is an easy one, ye understand?”
“Aye, Laird, but the sea is stormy now, I barely made it across without bein’ wrecked, surely some reward is deserved? I have shown myself loyal to ye,” Hamish said, looking around him anxiously.
“Ye shall have yer reward in good time, and some scraps from the table to see ye on yer journey. Now, be gone from my sight, else it will be the worse for ye too,” Stewart said, as around him the other men laughed, and Hamish retreated grudgingly from his place before the Laird.
He snatched up some food from a discarded plate and walked sullenly from the Great Hall and back out into the night. He had expected at least a purse of silver for his trouble that night, or the comfort of a bed in the castle, but instead he faced the treacherous crossing once more and as he arrived at the shoreline the two fire watchers laughed at him.
“Was the Laird pleased to see ye, Hamish?” one of them asked, “I thought ye would be joinin’ the feast.”
“Just help me get the ship into the water again, keep yer questions to yerselves,” he replied, as he began to push the boat down the beach.
The two men helped him cast off and soon he was once more amidst the waves, pulling on the oars, as the ship made out into the current. He was soon amidst the waves, the sea tossing the ship up and down like a child’s toy, as the wind sent up sheets of spray amidst the squall.
“Curse ye, Stewart McKinnon,” Hamish cried, as he tried desperately to keep control of the ship.
There was no fire on the far offshore to guide him, just the outline of the rocks, the moon now disappeared behind the thick clouds of the ever-increasing storm. The little ship was banking into the waves and Hamish fell back, crying out in pain as the oar smacked into his chest. The ship now turned, caught up in the current and almost tipped as Hamish tried to regain control. But it was no good, the waves tossed the ship up and with a great crash it came down once more, turning over on itself and sending Hamish hurtling down into the depths below.
There was no one to hear his cries as he desperately tried to swim. The ship disappearing into the darkness as he floundered in the water, gasping for air as yet another wave crashed over him. Now the sea claimed its next victim, dragging him down to the watery grave below, his cries unheard, as the storm raged above.
Chapter 7
The Unexpected
Ailsa awoke late the next day, the sun was streaming through the window of her chambers and for the first time since her rescue she did not feel the pain of her leg, or the aches in her side. She stretched out, turning and placing just a little weight upon her leg, hobbling up and going to the window.
Outside, the dawn was breaking over the horizon, the beach reflecting the sun, as though the storm of the night before had washed the old away and created a beautiful new world for the day. As she turned, there came a gentle tapping at the door and she called out for her visitor to enter, Bryce’s smiling face appearing around the door.
“Ye are up, are ye feeling better?” he asked, blushing a little to see her standing in her nightgown by the window.
“Aye, I feel quite better, though my leg will take some time to heal properly,” she said. “Between ye and yer mother I couldnae have asked for better care.”
“I am glad to hear it, perhaps ye might feel strong enough to walk onto the beach after breakfast? Some porridge will fortify ye for the day ahead, let me help ye downstairs when ye are dressed,” Bryce said, and he went to stand dutifully outside the door, as Ailsa made herself ready.
Absentmindedly she began to hum to herself, a tune her mother used to sing to her when she was little. Despite her injuries and despite her situation, she could not help but feel happy that day, as the sun shone, and Bryce waited for her outside. It would be lovely to walk upon the beach and she wrapped a warm cloak around her, calling for him to come back in.
“I am hungry now, Bryce,” she said, as he took hold of her arm and helped her along the corridor from her chambers.
“I am glad ye have yer appetite, lass, a good breakfast and then I shall help ye to the beach. There are some rocks not far along where I like to sit. Ye can see the whole bay from there and right out to …” he said, his words trailing off.
“Tis’ alright, Bryce, ye can say it, right out to the island of the McKinnon’s, where unhappy fate awaits,” she replied as they arrived at the door of the Great Hall.
“Tis’ nae a fate ye must endure should ye nae wish to lass,” he said, helping her to her place. “Ye can stay here just as long as ye like and if that is what ye choose then I shall see to it that nay one may take ye away, I promise that.”
A steaming bowl of porridge was placed before her, honey swirled into the top, and she began to eat hungrily. His words were a great comfort to her and what kindness he had shown to her, a strange lass washed up on the shores by his castle. It was more than she deserved, and she glanced at him as he ate, with a smile upon her face. He was very handsome, though shy and reserved, quite unlike any Laird she had ever imagined. He had a gentle manner to him, one which was eminently attractive and as he felt himself watched he looked up, smiling at her as she blushed.
“Come then,” she said, laying down her spoon, “ye must show me the beach and where ye like to sit,” and hobbling up she took his arm and he led her from the Great Hall towards the courtyard.
Along the way they met Lady Dunbar, coming from the kitchens and she smiled at the sight of the two arm in arm, as they approached.
“Well now, where are ye two going at such an early hour, tis’ a beautiful mornin’ and be sure, though the wind is a little cool after the storm, such a fresh day,” she said.
“Aye Mother, I am takin’ Ailsa to sit on the beach, I want to show her the rocks where I used to play as a child, ye can see the whole bay from there,” Bryce replied.
“Aye, so ye can, make sure ye dinnae catch yer death of cold, Ailsa,” Lady Dunbar replied.
“I have my cloak, I shall be fine, and I am sure Bryce will give up his if the wind proves too much,” Ailsa replied, laughing.
“Be sure that he does, lass,” she replied. “Take care, and I shall ye later.”
Ailsa and Bryce made their way slowly across the courtyard. It was the furthest that she had walked since leaving home and the broken bone and days of bed rest had caused her to be stiff and rigid. But Bryce was the ever patient and attentive companion, leading her gently across the cobbles as gradually she began to relax.
“Thank ye, Bryce, it will be easier when I am on the sand I think,” she said, as they reached the gates, the guards pulling back the great wooden doors for them and saluting.
“Is there any sign of our friend Hamish Macleod?” Bryce asked the sergeant at arms, but the man shook his head.
“Nay sir, the lad has nae returned. Tis’ unusual, he is nae one to miss a free meal in the kitchens and his duties begin soon, he will get a hiding if he is late.”
“Aye, though an excuse to be rid of him would nae be a bad thing,” Bryce replied, nodding to the sergeant, as he and Ailsa made their way through the gates.
On the road down to the beach they paused for a moment, breathing in the fresh sea air, as Ailsa caught her breath.
“Are ye alright, Ailsa?” Bryce asked, turning to her, “the walk is nae too much for ye, tis’ it?”
“As long as ye are with me I will be fine, Bryce,” she replied, and nodding to him they continued their way, eventually coming to the sands, far below the castle crag.
“Tis’ exhilarating, dinnae ye think?” Bryce said, as the breeze from the sea caught them on the sand and the sound of the crashing white waves came from across the beach.
“Aye tis’ beautiful, Bryce replied, standing next to her and gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean beyond.
The island of the McKinnon’s lay off to the right, a faint haze on the horizon, whilst to their left the ocean stretched out to who knew
where, the sea and sky becoming as one, white fluffy clouds drifting overhead. As Bryce looked along the beach, he was surprised to see what looked like a small ship, washed up on the shore some distance away and he left Ailsa to go and investigate.
Running across the sands he soon came to where the ship lay, battered and split almost in two, as though it had smashed against the rocks. There was no sign of any occupants, but the ship appeared like one used by the fishermen from the village and Bryce shook his head sadly at the thought of them having perished in last night’s storm.
“What is it, Bryce?” Ailsa asked, as he returned to her a few moments later.
“A ship belongin’ to the fishermen from the village. Tis’ a sad sight, though any man who attempts to navigate the waters in such weather as last night is nothin’ but a fool, a fool who has left behind a family nay doubt. Come now, let us go and sit on the rocks, ye should nae be standing like this all the time,” he said, and taking her arm he helped her to the rocks.
As a child he had played amongst the rock pools below the castle for many happy hours and now he kindled a little fire next to where they sat, pulling mussels from the rocks and throwing them into the heat so that they crackled and spat, opening to reveal the juicy flesh within.
“As a child I would eat a hundred of these and then be scolded by my mother for not finishin’ my supper,” he said, laughing.
“They are delicious,” she replied.
“And ye are nae cold, are ye lass? I shall gladly give up my cloak for ye,” he said, but she just shook her head and smiled.
“Yer dear mother fusses so, I am quite warm enough and with this fire I could happily sit here with ye for the day,” she replied.
“I am glad, I could too, I cannae think of anyone I would rather sit with,” he replied, blushing a little.
“Ye have been very kind to me, Bryce, kinder than anyone else ever has. I will be forever grateful to ye for helpin’ me so,” she said. The two of them sat closely together by the fire, as a gentle breeze blew over them, rustling the grasses in the dunes behind.
Rescued by a Laird Page 4
