A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1)

by Taylor, Brenda B.

  “Madam, I’m in need of Tavish this night. Nellie and Alan will be coming to stay with you. His leg is nae healed sufficiently for another battle.” Maidie, now awake, looked puzzled. Andrew explained, “We’ve reivers about, and must go out to meet them.” Killing as many as we can. “I must take my leave now. Alan and Nellie will be with you shortly.”

  Andrew bowed his head, backed up a step, then turned to leave with Maidie still in the doorway. He couldn’t take time to flirt.

  Colin, already dressed for battle, waited beside Andrew’s chamber door. The gille entered the chamber with Andrew to assist him in dressing. He donned a great plaide with knee-high white wool stockings, calf-high leather boots, and a leather ionar over a linen léine. Colin tied Andrew’s shoulder length hair with a thong, then fastened a broadsword’s leather sheath across his chest with the sword hanging under his left arm. Andrew pushed a sharp sgian dubh in a boot and secured a loaded, primed pistol in the large leather belt around his waist next to the sporran that held the extra shot. Colin hung a powder horn over Andrew’s neck and across his chest. The two men left the chamber, making their way to the torch-lit bailey where twenty mounted warriors waited.

  Gavin, dressed in kind, except carrying a large claymore in a scabbard belted across his back, came through the doorway with Erskin followed. Andrew’s wound kept him from using the heavy claymore on this night.

  The destriers pranced and snorted, eager for the excitement of battle. Their leather saddles, atop blankets in shades and hues of red, green, blue, and yellow, glistened in the torchlight. Each warhorse had reins and harness studded in silver or bronze, with a wooden targe attached to the saddle’s pommel. Scara stamped so heavily the stable boy had difficulty holding him. Andrew calmed the horse by speaking softly in Gaelic, then mounted.

  The other warriors mounted horses and passed to the outer bailey entrance with its heavy doors opened wide for their departure. The noise of horses snorting and prancing with eagerness for battle and the excited shouts of the warriors leaving to fight wakened the household. Several came to watch the excitement. When the men crossed the training field heading in the direction of the fire, Andrew looked toward Maidie’s window. She stood watching, her fine figure silhouetted in the frame. He turned toward Gavin to find his brother observing her also. Gavin waved. She returned the gesture. Saints above, what should he do? He didn’t want to get involved with a lass, but his resolve vanished at the sight of Maidie.

  She had Gavin captivated for sure. Now his brother and he competed for her attention. What a sorry state of affairs. The coming fight would take his mind off the golden haired lass. Reivers were about, probably from the Cameron, MacKenzie, or MacIntosh Clans. He would have to wound and kill again, or be killed. If there is a God in heaven, bring this feuding between the clans to an end. We have enough to fight with the sasannach breathing down our necks.

  The closer the party of warriors rode to the village of Swordale, the brighter the flames became, shooting into the night sky. Andrew felt certain nothing remained of the village except burned out cottages and frightened people running away from the ruckus. He looked at Gavin who stared ahead with a set jaw. His face, even in the dim moonlight, looked dark and brooding. Screams of fear and war cries reached his ears.

  Andrew turned to his brother. “Take half of the men to the far end of the village by the ben and block any from escaping in that direction.”

  Gavin nodded then turned to carry out the chief’s orders. He called the names of Erskin and nine others, leaving Tavish to ride with Andrew. The tanist rode away with his men to the far end of the village. Likely, most of the people were running toward the mountain for safety. The reivers would not follow them, but go in the opposite direction with the cattle.

  The second band of eleven riders quickly made their way to the center of the burning village. Most of the people were running in the direction of the ben as Andrew expected. A woman ran past him. She carried a bairn and her face looked disfigured with fright. The thatch on the cottage roofs burned with intense heat. Andrew hoped all villagers had escaped the fires. He didn’t want to find anyone burned in the remains of their home.

  Andrew waved to his warriors. They scattered out through the village, looking for the thieves. He rode down the main street seeing naught but the burning remnants of the cottages and their furnishings. Burning debris from the thatched roofs and other articles flew through the air. The heat from the flames blistered Andrew’s face and hands. The blustery autumn wind aided to spread the fires. A hot glowing cinder flew into Scara’s neck, sending the horse stomping, rearing, and then bucking.

  Andrew pulled on the reins while yelling at the frightened horse, but the roar of the fire and wind made the animal deaf to his commands. He pulled on the reins with all his strength while the horse bucked then spun, the wound in his abdomen burning and throbbing with pain. Finally Scara gave a last snort, bucked, then settled down to gallop down the street. Andrew hovered over the horse almost fainting from the pain, but managed to stay mounted. He finally pulled Scara to a walk, stopping well away from the burning village.

  They had arrived too late. The reivers were gone. Andrew rode to the base of the ben where people gathered away from the fire. Children cried while clinging to their mother’s skirts. Soot streaked most of the frightened drawn faces. Gavin sat on his horse close by, while his men continued searching the village.

  His brother rode over to him. “Are you fine, Andrew? You did well to stay on Scara in the ruckus.”

  Andrew answered through teeth clenched in pain, “Aye, I’m fine, Brother. Just a wee bit shaken.”

  “Your face looks ashen even in this dim light. Mayhap you should return to the castle and let me handle the reivers.”

  “Nae, I’ll complete this mission. There are those that need hanging for certain, and I’m the only one who can give the order.”

  “Alright then. Just don’t hold us up. We must cover a lot of territory before dawn,” Gavin warned.

  Andrew flashed a hard look at his second in command, then turned toward the group of villagers huddled together beside the mountain away from the fire. The cold wind hit his face and quieted the burning rage swelling within as he took in the pitiful scene.

  “Did you see the direction the thieves took?” he asked an elderly man standing close by.

  “Aye, M’Laird. They went thus.” He pointed west in the direction of MacKenzie lands.

  “So I thought. Thank you for the information. My men brought extra blankets, knowing you may be staying out in the cold this night. We must go after the reivers, but others from the castle will be coming with supplies on the morrow. We will soon have your homes rebuilt. I gave the order before we left.” Andrew reached behind his saddle, pulled two heavy wool blankets loose from their bindings and threw them down to the old man.

  Gavin did the same. The villagers began gathering around. “Thank you, M’Laird,” one called out to him.

  Soon the warriors who had been combing the village arrived and gave the villagers the blankets they carried. The people snatched the blankets as soon as they hit the ground. Some would need to share, but these were good tenants, and took care of one another.

  The elderly man looked up at Andrew. “God bless you, M’Laird.” Light from the fires cast sinister shadows on the lined face.

  Andrew’s heart went out to the innocents caught in the feud between the clans. Naught was their fault, but they suffered because of it. Hate mingled with thoughts of revenge for those causing this carnage rose like a bitter lump in his throat. He felt sure the Camerons and MacKenzies were the responsible parties.

  The chief turned his mount toward the western direction and waved for his men to follow. The band of warriors soon fell in around him, so he spurred Scara to a gallop. Surely the reivers were not far. They were herding cattle, and would be easy to find. He needed to aprehend them before they reached MacKenzie lands, or he could not carry out the planned justice.

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bsp; Erskin rode ahead to look for a trail and soon came back with the information they needed to follow. The dark night made tracking difficult, so the band moved on slowly with Andrew and Gavin riding along with Erskin and Tavish in the lead. Andrew could barely stay on his horse. Shooting pains like fire flashed through his entire body. For the first time in his life as a warrior, he wished he had stayed at Fàrdach Castle and let Gavin fight this battle. Tavish rode ahead now, scouting for the reivers. After a long while, he returned with no good news. Andrew could not understand why they had not soon overtaken the outlaws.

  Gavin turned in his saddle to stare at Andrew. “Brother, we’re stopping now. You canna go another mile.”

  It was true, but Andrew didn’t want to admit he was in pain. “I can keep up, Gavin. Dinna fash yourself about me. I’ve been worse.”

  “Nae, you lie. I canna see your face, but I can tell by the way you sit in the saddle, you’re spent.” Gavin raised his hand and the band of warriors stopped, including Andrew. “Stay here, Brother, or go back to the castle. The men and I will catch the reivers and bring them to you.”

  Andrew could go no farther, but he would not return to Fàrdach Castle alone and without the thieves. “I will remain here and wait for you.”

  “Should I leave Tavish or one of the others?”

  “Only Colin. You will need the other warriors for taking the reivers. Be certain you bring them back here. I will pronounce judgment in this place.”

  “Aye, Brother, as you wish.” Gavin patted the neck of his stallion to calm him. The destriers pranced, eager to be about the chase.

  “Go now. Make haste. I will be here on your return.” Andrew dismounted.

  The warriors now lead by the tanist moved on to find and capture the reivers. Colin dismounted, took his horse and Andrew’s by the reins and tied both to a nearby bush.

  A cold, light mist began to fall. Clouds cloaked the moon, making the night black. Andrew sat down on the root of a large oak with low hanging branches. Leaves from the large tree covered the cold, damp ground. An owl’s haunting call pierced the night air.

  Andrew unhooked the plaide on his shoulder and wrapped it around his aching body, while Colin gathered small branches and twigs enough for a fire. He found dry leaves then piled them together close to Andrew’s feet. Using a flint stone and his sgian dubh, Colin soon had a small fire burning. He added kindling, larger sticks, and finally a limb.

  Andrew leaned against the tree trunk, relaxing in the warmth of the fire. Colin soon joined him, wrapped his plaide around his young body, and rested against the tree. Andrew’s wound burned with pain. He closed his eyes, but could not sleep. Droplets of water from the mist collected on the tree’s branches and splashed down upon his head, but he did not care. His pride throbbed as mightily as the wound in his abdomen. He, the chief of Clan Munro, could not lead his men into battle. The tanist must now do his work. His warriors and people would hold him in contempt for not being able to perform his duties. How could he face his men?

  Andrew’s eyes closed against his will. He wished for one of Maidie Munro’s potions to ease the pain in his gut and her gentle touch to ease the pain in his heart. He soon dozed. In a fitful sleep, he dreamed of a bonny lass surrounded by glowing light, dressed in a flowing sheer white gown with a wreath of yellow daisies about her head. She wore a large pearl around a slender neck, and her skin shone like alabaster. Golden locks spilled around her shoulders and down her back. Large blue eyes and red lips taunted him. He reached for her when she beckoned with one willowy hand.

  “If you touch this pearl, you will have life and love,” she spoke in a voice sounding of tinkling bells.

  “Aye, come closer and I will touch it.” Andrew stretched his hand out further. He had almost reached the pearl when the beautiful lass backed away. “Come closer. I canna reach you. I will touch the pearl,” he called as she grew smaller and smaller. He tried to run toward her, but his legs would not move. “Come back, come back. I canna reach the pearl,” he called at the top of his lungs, but she vanished.

  Colin shook his shoulder. “Are you well, M’Laird? You’re talking in your sleep.”

  “Aye. I’m fine, lad. Just a wee pain in the gut.” Andrew placed a hand inside his plaide and felt the warmth of blood oozing from the wound in his belly.

  Colin rose to put limbs on the fire, and then settled against the tree once more. The night mist grew heavier and colder. The owl called again, this time from further away. Andrew guessed his cry had frightened the bird. Hopefully, no wolves were about. He didn’t feel up to fighting off a pack this night, and Colin would not be able to hold off very many by himself. Andrew had no spirit or energy left for fighting.

  Even in the night’s cold air, perspiration lay on Andrew’s brow. He wiped it away with the plaide and then wrapped the wool garment closer about his body. For the first time since Tara Fraser, he longed to gaze into the eyes of a lass and wrap his arms about her, feel her touch on his skin, and press her warm lips to his. Since Maidie came into his life, his thoughts turned more and more toward the soft feel of a woman. If only he were free to properly court the lass. She may not want him, however, now that his strength was spent.

  The sound of a distant owl broke the night air again. Colin wrapped his plaide tighter around his body. Another owl sounded closer.

  Andrew jumped to his feet with a hand on the hilt of his broadsword. “Colin, douse the fire. ‘Tis no owl we’re hearing, but an animal far more dangerous.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maidie rose from the bed with tears streaming down her face. Terrible nightmares of fighting and blood filled her sleep. She checked on Sven who lay asleep beside her. Alan and Nellie slept beside the door on a mat of rushes. Maidie quietly donned her robe and slippers, opened the large door, and made her way to the chapel adjacent to the great hall. The quiet castle loomed large and ominous in the dark of night, almost sinister in spirit. She expected to see a roaming soul jump out of the darkness upon her. She could feel her heart throbbing in her throat. Her mouth went dry, but she felt praying to the Lord at the chapel’s altar this night would save the lives of the warriors.

  Maidie opened an oak door with iron hinges and a large iron keyhole to enter the beautiful sanctuary decorated with blue silk cushions on the wooden benches. The room smelled of incense and the smoke of candles. Several tapestries depicting the life of the Lord Jesus hung on the walls. Three quarterfoil windows on the southern and northern walls of the chapel had four panes each, the panes forming the shape of a leaf. A large intricately carved crucifix from the wood of a hawthorn tree hung over the altar. Light from the tapered candles in four wall scones, two on either side of the room, flickered when the door opened, then cast dancing shadows upon the floor.

  She genuflected then dipped a finger in the stoup of holy water. While kneeling she made the sign of the cross, then rose and went to the altar. She put a small coin in the alms box, lit a candle, and knelt at the altar’s railing. The flagstone floor felt cold to her knees, but she was soon lost in prayer for the safety of the chief, the tanist, and the warriors of Fàrdach Castle.

  A cold gust of air brushed against Maidie’s neck. She turned quickly to see who entered the chapel. The candles flickered with the gust, but she saw no one. Perhaps it was only a draft in the high-ceiling room, so she continued with her prayers. Maidie wished for Maighstir Tam’s words of comfort, and decided to pay him a visit on the morrow. Sometimes the maighstir read to her from the large, beautiful book of Psalms he kept locked in an ornate chest in the abbey’s chapel. The words soothed her spirit bringing comfort to her distressed soul. After Kenneth’s death, he read to her often. Many days had passed since she had visited Maighstir Tam, and she missed his comforting guidance.

  Footfalls sounded at the chapel door. A loud piercing scream followed. Maidie turned quickly and thought she saw a shadow crunch between the benches, but felt it must be her imagination. The scream came again. She rushed toward the sound. Th
e door opened before her. Alan stood in the doorway.

  “Madam, Nellie is near frantic about your whereabouts. She sent me to look for you.”

  “What was that scream? It came in the direction of the kitchen.” Maidie rushed past Alan toward the kitchen. He followed.

  A scream reverberated through the kitchen, coming from the servants’ chambers. “Anne’s giving birth to her bairn. She didn’t feel good this morn.”

  Alan took Maidie by the arm. “Best leave Anne to the other maidservants. You can send Nellie to her. I’ll stay with you and the lad.”

  “Nae, Alan. I must go to Anne. Sounds like she’s in a great deal of pain.” Maidie pulled free of the man’s hand. “You go back to Sven and send Nellie. I will have need of her this night.”

  “Madam, the chief would no’ want thus. I canna watch you and Sven in two different places. Nellie will help Anne with the birthing.” Alan loomed over her.

  Maidie stood her ground. “I’ll help Anne, along with Nellie. The chief is no’ here to order me to stay away. You wanna be held responsible, Alan. I am disobeying your orders.”

  A cry of agony sounded through the great hall. Alan turned to go back to Nellie and Sven while Maidie rushed to the sound. She hurriedly made her way through the great hall, now dark and empty of life, trying not to fall or stumble over the tables or benches. The scream came again, closer and louder. Maidie hurried through the large kitchen where embers glowed in the great fireplaces and the pungent smell of food from the evening meal lingered in the air.

  Following the sound of the next cry, she came to the chamber where the maidservants slept. She opened the door of the large dormitory chamber to find several women gathered around a thatch mat on the floor. Maidie made her way through the servants to find Anne writhing in birth pangs. One of the servants washed Anne’s face with cool water while another held her hand.