by Connie Mason
They topped a rise and looked down into a little valley. There was a castle of gray stones so dark they were almost black. Caisteal Dubh, the Dark Castle. It was ringed with a stout curtain wall, and a water-filled moat ran along three sides. A steep granite cliff rose behind it. A highly defensible position. There would be no hostile approach from that direction.
“Looks as if your father and bridegroom willna let me forget it either,” Rob said grimly.
Spread out around the other three sides of Caisteal Dubh, a host of men were encamped. Pennants emblazoned with Stewart and Drummond colors whipped in the wind. Several parties of men were felling trees to build siege works.
Rob hated to see them waste the lumber. Caisteal Dubh had never been taken and wouldn’t be on his watch either.
“They’re early,” Elspeth said. “Ye told them not to come till the end of the month.”
“They guessed I wouldna harm ye, but by now, they must also know ye’re no’ in the castle.”
“For all they know, I’m dead.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Merciful God, I hadna thought of that before. Oh, Rob, my poor parents.”
“Once we’re safe in the castle, I’ll go out under a flag of truce and let your father know ye’re well. Ye’ll have to show yourself on the wall, aye?”
“That’ll do, but I dinna think they’ll let us ride up to the front gate. How do ye plan on getting in?”
He leaned forward, surveying the array of fighting men amassed before his keep. His people were safe inside, he was sure, but if the army remained long, the land would be scarred. Feeding that many men each day would deplete the nearby game, and if any of his crofters had a private store of grain, he’d bet it was already gone. He had to make sure Elspeth was safe, and then he’d deal with the men at his gate.
“Can ye keep a secret?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“Then I’ll take ye in Caisteal Dubh’s back door.”
***
They looped around on game trails a bit, and Elspeth almost lost track of which direction the castle lay. Then Rob set his face toward a steep incline. There didn’t appear to be any trail worthy of the name making an ascent on it. Only goats might attempt such a rock face. She was certain she’d be unable to drive her mare up it.
“Are we to pass through stone?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He swiveled in his saddle and looked back at her. “What I’m about to show you is a way known only to the laird of the castle. My father showed me. Someday, I’ll show my son.”
“Ye have a child?”
He looked at her intently. “No’ yet.”
Elspeth’s chest ached. For all she knew, she might be bearing Rob’s child already. She didn’t know whether that would simplify or compound their problem.
“The secret is both a blessing and a curse,” he said as he dismounted and tied his horse to a pine. Then he helped her down.
“I’ve never kenned how a thing can be a blessing and a curse at once.”
“’Tis a blessing because should there be a need to enter or leave Caisteal Dubh by stealth, as there is for us now, there’s a way to do it.” His mouth set in a hard, thin line. “But if this secret should become known, ’tis the only way the castle will ever fall.”
He took both the horses’ reins and led them around a boulder. “Coming?”
She followed. Behind the rock, another cave opened into the steep incline, its dark mouth yawning.
“Ye seem to have a way with the deep places of the earth, Rob MacLaren.”
And the deep places in her heart. Though they’d declared their love, it still felt tenuous. Like a rope of two strands that might break if too much weight were put on it.
“Do ye seek out caves wherever ye go?” she asked.
“They seem to seek me. I’ve stumbled over several in my travels, and all by accident.”
“Or by running from those whose herds ye’ve reived?”
“Aye, ye’ve the right of it,” he admitted with a laugh.
She followed him into the gloom. He handed the horses’ reins to her and pulled out his flint. Once a torch was lit and placed in a holder in the rock wall, Elspeth could see this first chamber of the cave was even-floored and dry. It would serve well as a temporary stable. Rob put up some planks to bar the way out and keep their mounts safely in.
“After I see ye settled, I’ll come back and tend to these two. If this business with yon armies drags out, I may have to set them loose, but if I do, they’re likely to be caught by your bridegroom’s men.” He patted the mare’s neck, and she whickered softly. “Horsemeat is stringy, but it’ll feed a multitude.”
“Dinna set them free,” Elspeth said. “And dinna call Lachlan my bridegroom. I’ll no’ marry him now.”
Rob’s eyes glowed at her. “It pleases me to hear it. Come, lass.”
He took the torch again and caught up her hand. He led her unerringly through a long tunnel, ignoring the side passages that led off into the dark. She ran her free hand over the side walls. There were tool marks gouged in the stone.
“This was made by human hands.”
“Aye. Parts of it,” he said. “But the work was done so long ago, the doing of it has fallen out of memory. Some of this cave system has been here since the days of Noah, and others have been improved upon over the years. Like this.”
They’d come to a series of stone steps leading up. They were by no means regular in size or height but were obviously the work of man.
“Some of the steps may be wet and slick, aye?” Rob said. “Be careful.”
She would have been afraid in the cave if she’d been alone. And the steps looked daunting because of the throb in her leg, but as long as she held Rob’s hand, she feared nothing.
Elspeth concentrated so hard on putting her feet aright on each step, she lost track of how long they climbed. Finally the stairs ended, and the cave continued in a fairly level corridor. It was wide enough for them to walk two abreast, and Rob didn’t have to duck his head at all.
“I hear voices,” she said, and hers echoed several times off the stone around them.
“Aye,” he whispered back. “We’re close. Ye’re hearing the folk who live inside the castle. The sound comes down through cracks and fissures. I expect it might go up as well, so…” He placed a finger on her lips.
She nodded, and they walked on. The voices grew louder and then faded. Finally, they came to a dead stop.
“What is this? There’s no way out,” she said.
“I was hoping ye’d say that,” he said. “It means the entrance might yet be secret, even if someone made it this far.” He handed her the torch. “Now we go up.”
There was a narrow chimney rising above them. Rob began climbing the walls, placing his hands and feet carefully in finger- and toeholds worn slick from centuries of use. Then he braced himself with one foot on each side of the space and shoved at the seemingly solid roof over his head.
The stone lifted, and he moved it sideways to create an opening wide enough for his shoulders and arms to disappear through.
Faint light showed around him. Then he lifted himself the rest of the way out and disappeared from her sight.
Elspeth was left in the corridor below, holding the torch. The walls seemed to close in on her.
“Rob?”
A rope flopped down before her, and Rob’s face reappeared in the opening overhead.
“Put your foot in the loop, snuff out the torch, and I’ll pull you up,” he said.
She was quick to obey. The thought of remaining in the cave alone a moment longer made her heart pound. The rope bore her up smoothly. When her head cleared the opening, she saw that there was a pulley attached to a very low ceiling. Rob was barely able to sit upright in the short space as he hauled
her up.
He tied off the rope and lifted her the rest of the way with a hand under each armpit.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
“We’re in the chapel.” He slid the slab back into position to cover the opening. “Under the altar.”
He peered out through a slit in the altar cloth and then crawled out. Elspeth followed him.
“How could this entrance cause Caisteal Dubh to fall?” she asked. “One man could hold this spot against an army.”
“Aye, he could,” Rob said. “But what if someone was to enter by stealth as we just did, when no one was on guard, and then open the gates?”
“Why not post a guard on the altar all the time?”
“I asked my father the same thing. He said no matter how much ye may trust someone, the human heart is weak and might be corrupted. A secret is best guarded when fewer souls know about it.”
“And no one’s ever found the way by accident?” she said.
“Who would think to look for something no one knows is there?” he said as he lifted her to her feet. “I think there may have been a priest or two who’s been surprised over the years when the laird miraculously appeared under the altar, but never in my lifetime. Or my father’s. Or his father’s. The secret is well hidden.”
“’Tis safe with me,” she assured him.
“And ye are safe with me,” he said. “Welcome to my home. Come now. There are those who will be glad to see us.”
He led her out of the chapel and into the bailey. The sun had set, but the courtyard was lit by countless torches and teemed with life. All his crofters, their bairns, and livestock had been crammed into the space. But instead of quivering in fear over the armed encampment beyond the stout walls, the castle’s inhabitants took for granted that the stronghold, which had never fallen, was indeed impregnable. The atmosphere was more like a makeshift fair.
Folks had set up stalls to barter their goods and make more of them. The Caisteal Dubh ovens were fired up. But the aroma of freshly baked barley bread didn’t quite mask the stench of too many barnyard animals and people in too small an area. Children frisked like colts in a game of tag between the stalls.
The only ominous note was the determined clang of the smith’s hammer. At least one soul seemed to realize a conflict was coming and was making preparations.
“The MacLaren!” someone called out. And the cry was taken up immediately as the people realized their laird was suddenly and miraculously in their midst. Rob was surrounded by his awed people, who knew he’d not come in through the barred main gate or any of the other smaller but heavily fortified ones. Men doffed their caps, and women covered their mouths with their aprons.
And narrowed their eyes with suspicion at Elspeth.
So that’s the Stewart maiden, she could almost hear them thinking. The cause of all this trouble.
Chapter 25
“My lord, my lord!” a round woman burst through the crowd and began dogging them across the bailey.
“In a moment, Mrs. Beaton. I’ll be with ye directly,” Rob said then lowered his voice to Elspeth as they continued toward the smith’s determined clanging. “My housekeeper. She’s been with us since my mother died. A wee bit tetchy, she is, but a terror with a scrub brush.”
“Rob! Ye’re alive!” The smith laid aside his hammer and came away from the anvil to enfold Rob in a hug. A great giant of a man with a flaming head of hair, neatly tied back, and a round, smooth-shaven face, he was a younger version of Angus Fletcher. “There’s been no word. When ye didna come, we feared the worst. ’Tis glad I am to see ye.”
He cast a shy smile in Elspeth’s direction. “Ye must be the Lady Elspeth. We didna have time to be properly introduced last time I seen ye, ye being in a hurry and all, and—”
“And ye must be Hamish Murray.” When his eyes rounded with surprise, she whispered, “Ye have the look of your Uncle Angus.”
“How long have Drummond and Stewart been here?” Rob asked.
“On the morrow, ’twill be a week.”
“Did they parley?”
“Aye, I spoke to them from the walls,” Hamish said.
“Their demands?”
“The return of the Lady Elspeth.” His massive shoulders cringed. “And yer head.”
“Well, I’m no’ inclined to give them the first, and assuredly no’ the last,” Rob said with a snort. “Did ye tell them we were no’ here?”
“They seemed to know already,” Hamish said. “They said the Clan MacLaren were all prisoners in their own keep till our laird gives up his hostage.”
“The first deep freeze will send them scurrying home to their own hearths.”
“Ye didna see their faces, Rob.” Hamish shook his head. “Foul weather willna turn them from their purpose. Drummond and Stewart are set on this.”
“Guess I’ll have to talk them out of it, then,” Rob said, turning to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Beaton, I believe ye have a room ready as I ordered. Will ye see to the Lady Elspeth’s comfort?”
“But, my lord—” the housekeeper began.
“She’s to be given the best chamber and every honor due the daughter of a laird, as ordered. D’ye hear me? Now, see to it.”
Mrs. Beaton puffed up like a wren fluffing its feathers against the cold. “But, my lord, I have somewhat of great import to say to ye.”
“Important or no’, whatever it is, it’ll have to wait till a time when I’ve no’ got an army at my gate, aye?” He gave Mrs. Beaton his back and turned to Elspeth, taking her hand. “Go with her now, leannán, and if ye need aught, all ye have to do is ask.”
“Ye’ll let my father know I’m well?”
“Aye, and I’ll send for ye to show yourself, so he can see ye with his own eyes.”
“Tell him…I’m sorry—”
“Hush. Ye’ve naught to be sorry for,” Rob said with a finger to her lips. “’Tis my error. I’ll fix it. Go ye now, and I’ll see ye at supper.”
***
Elspeth Stewart has a good deal to account for, Mrs. Beaton thought furiously as she led the way back across the bailey to the laird’s keep. The lass has so witched the laird that he willna even hear her begin to take blame for the way she’s thrown him into confusion.
The laird was cagey about it, but Mrs. Beaton was sure he’d begun to look with favor on her niece Margot before this wild venture. He’d danced with Margot a couple times when the whole castle was trying to make merry to cheer him. Margot’s father wasna a laird, but he was a man of stature among the Beatons, rich in cattle and land.
Margot was young and healthy, and her mother had birthed nine live bairns. She came from fertile stock, did Margot. She’d be a good match for the MacLaren.
In fact, Mrs. Beaton’s brother-in-law had sent an offer for the MacLaren. He promised a truly princely dowry for Margot, hoping to form an alliance between their clans. And the laird wouldn’t even let her tell him about it.
Lord MacLaren’s heart was beginning to mend before this scheme to steal Elspeth Stewart took shape in his mind. The timing of the abduction and the laird’s obsession with it all smacked of witchery.
And if the Stewart wench witched him once he saw her, she might actually have put the thought to steal her in his head. Through some weird incantation, reaching across the distance to call him to her, like a siren on the rocks. Such things were known to happen.
It was the only explanation for her laird’s odd behavior.
And Mrs. Beaton hadn’t missed the fact that Elspeth Stewart divined Hamish’s name out of thin air. An uncommon skill, that. Some might say unnatural.
Mrs. Beaton glanced back at the Stewart girl. Aye, her father was cousin to Queen Mary, but everyone knew the queen was so tainted by her time on the French throne, she couldn’t hardly be named a g
ood Scot except by birth.
Night was falling fast. Elspeth Stewart was looking around at the half-timbered buildings ringing the bailey in Caisteal Dubh as she trailed Mrs. Beaton.
No doubt imagining yerself chatelaine here! Well, may God strike me blind before I hand over the keys to the likes of ye!
“Wipe yer feet,” Mrs. Beaton said sharply when they entered the Great Hall. The rushes she’d strewn on the flagstone floor a few weeks ago would have to last till spring. As she mounted the steps to ascend to the chamber she knew her laird would want for Lady Elspeth, she noticed the girl limping.
“Have ye damaged yourself?”
“No, ’tis nothing,” the Stewart girl said.
Mrs. Beaton led her to the chamber that had stood empty since the laird’s mother died. It was a fine chamber once, with a sturdy bed and a heavy trunk for all a lady’s things, but disuse had rendered the air stale and the linens musty. She bustled over to the window and pushed it open.
“I’ll have the girls air the room now and turn the mattress,” Mrs. Beaton said. She ought to have done it before, as the laird ordered, but she’d been so certain this whole scheme would end differently, she neglected preparing the room. “We were no’ given notice of yer arrival, ye ken.”
“I thank ye,” the lady said with every appearance of meekness while she ran her fingertips along the footboard of the bed.
Well, o’ course, a body will find dirt if she looks for it.
“I suppose ye’ll be wanting the braziers lit to take away the chill,” Mrs. Beaton said.
“If it isna too much trouble.”
Everything about this lass screamed trouble, but there was no help for it.
“I wonder,” the Stewart girl said softly, “if I might have a bath as well. The road was a weary, long way, and I’d like to wash before my father sees me.”
Demanding already. “As ye wish, my lady,” Mrs. Beaton said. “I’ll send a couple girls up to set ye to rights.” She turned to go.
“Oh, Mrs. Beaton, one more thing. If I might ask, whose chamber was this?”
“The chatelaine’s.”
