Andrew dreamed of roses more than once. His feverish mind saw Maidie dressed in white with her golden locks falling around creamy shoulders. She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair. She smelled of roses. He wished for her hands to wash his hair with sweet smelling soap. He longed to hold her, wrapping his arms around her lithe body, and kissing her full, red lips until she gasped for breath. And then he thought of Gavin. His brother was probably holding the lass and whispering sweet words of passion into her ear. Was Gavin meeting the demands of the MacKenzie?
Andrew sat against the slimy wall, wishing he knew how to pray. He turned to Colin. “Lad, I want you to teach me to pray.”
Colin looked into Andrews eyes. A smile crossed the gille’s dirt-streaked face. “Aye, M’Laird. Praying is no’ difficult, but first you must make peace with the Lord.”
“How do I make peace with a God I’ve held in disdain all my life?”
“’Tis no’ hard, just ask His forgiveness and accept the sacrifice His Son made for you.”
“You mean dying on the cross in my place?”
“Aye. Just like I told you. He died so you might live. You must believe in God’s Son.”
“Nae, lad. I think my heart’s too black. The Lord dinna want someone like me in His heaven.”
“Nae heart is too black for God. All you must do is believe in His power to wash your heart with the blood of Jesus and make it pure.”
Andrew could not speak, but only look at the lad sitting next to him. He realized the bonny lass in his dream spoke of a pure heart. “Only one with a pure heart,” she said, “may touch the pearl.” The pearl holds life. If he recalled correctly, the name, Maidie, meant Pearl. He could not have Maidie while carrying a black heart. The pearl had given back his physical life with her kind healing hands, now she called him to believe to give him spiritual life as well.
The chief of Clan Munro, Thirteenth Baron of Fàrdach, bowed his head in the fusty black cell and asked the Lord to cleanse his black heart, making it pure with the blood of His Son. Tears formed in the chief’s eyes, spilling over to streak the dirt on his cheeks. He swiped a large hand across his face. He had not shed tears in many years, not since his mother died. Colin placed a hand on Andrew’s back and patted him like a father comforting his son. Love for the lad grew in Andrew’s heart at that moment. A bond formed between the two that could not be explained. They sat in quietness. Colin fingered his crucifix and prayed. Andrew prayed with a newfound assurance his prayers were being heard.
The clanging of keys and squeaking of the large metal dungeon door brought the men to awareness. The light of torches threw sinister shadows along the cell wall. They both stood, waiting for the usual evening meal. The thought of the foul food and water made Andrew’s stomach churn, but his thirst said he would eat and drink the hateful stuff once more.
Footfalls of more than one person grew louder. Four heavily armed guards dressed in MacKenzie colors approached the cell. One held a torch high so another could find a large key on a chain containing several of similar size and shape. On finding the key, he thrust it into the lock and opened the cell door. Colin turned to Andrew, looking at his chief with wide, fearful eyes. Both realized they would soon be facing the enemy’s torture, or worse. One of the guards grabbed Andrew’s arms and wrested them behind his back. Andrew tried to resist, but had little strength for fighting. The other guard bound his wrists with sturdy rope that seemed to cut to the bone. Two did the same to Colin. The young lad put up no resistance.
Andrew turned to the gille and forced a faint smile. “Take heart, lad. Remember, God awaits us in heaven.”
Chapter Sixteen
The guards stepped back, one motioned for the two men to come out of the cell. The men turned up their noses at the smell of the two prisoners. Two walked well in front and the others a good distance in back of the foul-smelling men. Andrew took note of the leader’s weapons, planning in his mind a way to take them. The band made their way down a gloomy passage lined with other cells reeking of filth, across a large chamber with implements of torture, and up a dark narrow staircase. Both men turned to look at the other when they didn’t stop. Andrew shrugged his shoulders. Colin did the same. Something sinister waited in another part of the castle.
Andrew kept his eyes on the front guards, waiting for an opportunity to overtake them and take their weapons. They may walk closer to a place of escape. The stairwell opened into a corner of the kitchen. The front guards led the way out of the dungeon. One holding the torch deposited it into a sconce at the top of the stairway, then led the way through the massive kitchen. The filthy men blinked their eyes against the kitchen’s light. Scullions worked over great pots and spits in three large fireplaces. Some cut meat on huge cutting tables, others stirred large pots that were brought from the flames on chains with pulleys. They were preparing for the evening meal. Andrew’s stomach churned from the smell of the food. A diet of putrid meat for five days did little to stir his appetite.
The group left the kitchen and entered the great hall bustling with activity. Many servants prepared a large number of tables. The MacKenzie had many guests to require so many tables and so much food, but then three clan chiefs had paid Andrew a visit in the dungeon. They were scheming something foul for Colin and he, to be sure. Andrew suspected they would be the night’s entertainment. Weapons lined the walls of the great hall, as they did the walls of the great hall of Fàrdach Castle. He desired to snatch one, trying for an escape, but several warriors in various clan colors stood guard in the hall, and his hands were bound securely behind his back.
All eyes turned to stare at the prisoners when they walked by. Some laughed and sneered, making snide remarks about the great Black Falcon of Fàrdach.
“He looks and smells mighty black now,” a nearby servant said loudly to another. Both laughed with gusto. Others pointed and laughed while holding their noses.
Andrew determined if he ever got his hands on Ewin Cameron or Hugh MacKenzie, he would choke the life out of them, or better yet, put them in the dungeon of Fàrdach Castle and leave them there to rot. While contemplating more punishment for his two enemies, he remembered the story Colin told him of the way Jesus acted through His trial and suffering. The Lord remained silent, not saying a word while they spit in His face and pulled out His beard. He looked at Colin, who walked beside him. The lad held his head high, and looked straight ahead. He had a better heart than his chief. Andrew realized revenge would never be the answer to peace, only forgiveness. Lord, help my black heart. ‘Tis hard to forgive your enemies. I canna do so without your supernatural grace Colin told me about.
Andrew saw no means of escape but would not give up the thought. The guards led the two men up a spiral staircase to a nearby chamber door. One opened the door while the other entered, motioning for the prisoners to follow. Andrew and Colin entered the large bedchamber. Two tubs with steam rising from them stood in front of the fireplace, filling the chamber with the scented odor of the water. A stack of towels lay beside each tub. Three members of the MacKenzie’s luchd-taighe hustled about the chamber laying out clothing on the bed and straightening the furnishings.
A guard came from behind, pushing both men into the center of the chamber with the point of his spear. They stumbled forward, mouths opened in awe. This certainly was not what Andrew expected from the MacKenzie. Did the man have a change of heart? One of the guards took a small dirk and cut the ropes binding the prisoners’ wrists. Two guards remained inside while the others left and closed the door behind them. Servants began undressing the men, piling their soiled garments in a corner. Andrew looked at his abdomen. Dried blood caked the wound, and raw places were encircled with red, angry flesh. He longed for the touch of Maidie’s cool, gentle hands on his body. In his mind, naught would heal the wound in his flesh or his heart but her tender care.
Colin stepped into a tub and immediately sank under the steamy water. He surfaced, wiping suds from his face. “What are you waitin
g for, M’Laird? The water’s fine. ‘Tis a great way to spend our last moments on this earth.”
Andrew laughed then stepped into the tub. He followed Colin’s example and immersed his body, head and all, rigorously scrubbing at the filth in his hair. Yes, ‘twas a pleasant way to spend his last moments on earth. Naught could be more enjoyable, except to have a certain bonny, fair-haired lass share the tub with him.
The door opened then closed behind two servants carrying trays of bread, slices of cheese, and delicious smelling meat. One following held a crystal decanter of wine and two fine goblets. They deposited the trays, wine, and goblets on a large table under the small window, then pulled up two chairs beside the table. Each nodded in Andrew’s direction as they left. Indeed the Lord was good. He may not live to see the morning, but he would enjoy himself tonight.
After soaking in the tub for a good while, the servants helped the two men dry off and dress in clothing the MacKenzie reserved for his guests—shirts of silk saffron, great plaides of neutral, mottled colors with a wide leather belt for belting the plaide, white wool knee socks, and leather brogues for the feet. After Andrew and the gille dressed, they sat down to feast and drink at the table his host provided.
Colin looked at him over a goblet of French wine. “Do you think this is our last meal, M’Laird? That the MacKenzie plans to hang us come morn, or worse?”
Andrew decided honesty served best. “I think he wants us ready to be his entertainment this eve. If we must fight, remember the moves I taught you.”
“But you’re injured. ‘Twould no’ be a fair fight.” Colin put his goblet down hard with protective indignation.
“Aye, but my wound wanna bother the MacKenzie. He wanna care if I’m injured or no’ as long as he has his sport.”
Andrew finished eating and pushed away from the table. The large bed looked inviting. He longed to stretch out in its comfort and sink into the softness, but he rose from the chair and stood beside the fireplace as the menservants drug the large tubs of water from the chamber. Looking about, Andrew spotted a small door in the recesses of the wall that probably held the privy. He wondered how long he and Colin would be allowed to stay in the nice chamber, now that they were washed, clothed, and fed. Colin rose and walked to the small window. He looked out but turned around facing Andrew again. Naught could be seen from the opening except the stone curtain wall around the castle.
A manservant pulled back the silk comforter on the bed and fluffed the pillows. Another pulled a small trundle from under the larger bed, spread it with blankets, and put a small pillow at the top. The servants left the chamber, but the warriors remained on either side of the door. Andrew wasted no time. He unbelted the plaide, leaving the silk léine on his large frame and climbed into the soft bed. Colin undressed in like manner and reclined on the trundle.
Andrew put his arms behind his head. “Remind me, Colin, to treat my enemies in like manner if ever I entertain one at Fàrdach Castle. Sometimes kindness better serves your purpose than animosity. Right now, I would come close to kissing the hand of Hugh MacKenzie.”
“Aye, M’Laird. I’ll remind you.” With that said, Colin began to snore.
Andrew listened to the cacophony of noise emanating from the great hall. Dishes rattled, loud talking, laughter, and music rose in a crescendo up the stairwell. All got quiet of a sudden and a piercingly beautiful voice rose in song. The singer sang a ballad in Gaelic, of love and romance between a fair lass and her lover. He thought of Maidie. His eyes closed in weariness with dreams of the bonny lass filling his mind.
***
Andrew woke to the warmth of sunlight on his face. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not remembering where he was until he saw Colin standing fully dressed beside the fire.
Colin smiled. “How are you feeling this morn, M’Laird?”
“Fine. I feel fine. How about you?” Andrew stretched both arms above his head, yawning.
“I’m good, M’Laird. The bath and food did well to heal my discomforts and help my sleep.” Colin smiled, looking perky with a small amount of color to his cheeks.
“How many guards are outside the door?” Andrew yawned again, wiping sleep from his eyes.
“Two are standing there, fully armed.” Colin moved to stand beside the bed, extending his hand to Andrew.
He rose from the bed with the gille’s help and made his way to the privy. The wound ached. His stomach growled. He took care of his personal needs, poured water from a pitcher into a laver close by, washed his face with the soap provided, and ran his hands and water through his hair to dampen the unruly mane.
“Would you care for me to braid your hair, M’Laird?” Colin stood close with a towel.
Andrew dried his face and hands. “Aye. ‘Twill keep the unruly stuff from my eyes. Is there a comb to be had in this chamber?”
“Aye. Sit in the chair and I’ll fetch the comb.” Colin walked to a small table while Andrew took a seat on the leather chair. The gille began combing and braiding Andrew’s thick hair. “I’ve naught to tie off the ends. The braids won’t last long.”
“I won’t be doing any training or fighting for now, so ‘tis fine. When did the food come?” Andrew pointed to a tray of boiled eggs, meat, and cheese. A pitcher of cold ale looked inviting.
“While you slept, M’Laird.”
“I slept that hard—to no’ hear a knock?” Andrew was amazed. He usually slept lightly.
“I heard the servant’s footfalls outside the door and opened it before he could knock.”
Colin’s thoughtfulness touched him. Not only was the lad an excellent warrior, but a fine assistant as well. “Come and join me then.”
“Aye, M’Laird. The food does smell inviting.” A smile lit Colin’s handsome, youthful face. He pulled up a chair and joined Andrew at the table. The two men soon lost their concern over being held hostage in satisfying the return of ravenous appetites.
A knock sounded on the large wooden door before it opened. A manservant walked over to stand in front of Andrew. “After you break the fast, Laird MacKenzie desires your presence in his chamber.”
“Aye. Do I have a choice?’ Andrew spoke with his mouth full, but managed a smile at the servant.
“Nae, M’Laird. Laird MacKenzie insists on your presence.”
“Then wait ‘til I finish breaking the fast.”
He finished eating and rose to follow the servant. Colin also rose to accompany his chief.
The servant stopped. “He should stay here. Laird MacKenzie wishes only you to come.”
Andrew nodded at Colin. He could tell by the look on the gille’s face, the lad was not happy to be left behind. Being without weapons, Colin could do little to protect him. The servant led the way to a larger heavily studded door not far from the chamber where Andrew spent the night. The man opened the door and motioned for him to enter a well-furnished study. A blazing fire burned in a large stone fireplace filling one wall. A red stag’s head sporting a huge rack of antlers hung over the fire. Another door, probably leading to the chief’s bedchamber stood beside the fireplace. An expensive woven rug with vivid reds and blues graced the wood floor. Hugh MacKenzie sat on a large leather chair behind a desk. The other chiefs and the Cameron’s brother sat on chairs around the library. Their heavily armed gentlemen stood nearby. Did they think he would attack all four men at one time without weapons? Mayhap when they were in their cups, but not first thing in the morn. Although all four looked like they had a merry time last night.
“Come closer, Munro,” Hugh MacKenzie ordered. “We wanna bite you.” He roared with laughter along with the others. Andrew stepped closer to the group.
“You smell somewhat better this morn, although I can smell a Munro a mile away no matter how often he washes.” Yellow teeth shone through the red beard as the big chief slapped on the desk at his joke.
All but Fraser laughed with him a second time. Bryson kept his eyes fixed on the Munro chief, and looked uncomfortable when Andrew n
odded in his direction.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Hugh. ‘Twas quite a treat after your dungeon.” Although a hateful experience, Andrew knew he would never forget Hugh MacKenzie’s dungeon—the place where he met the Lord. With the grace of God, he could look at his enemies and not hate, but forgive.
“You can thank Bryson for your good treatment. He threatened to withdraw his approval of my betrothal if I didn’t treat you with respect. If I had my way, you would be hanging by your thumbs in my torture chamber right now.” The chief pushed a parchment document toward Andrew. “Sign this and you’ll be set free when the exchange arrives.”
“What do you mean by exchange, and what am I signing?” He couldn’t think at the moment who the MacKenzie would want from the Munro clan. He looked at the Cameron sitting without a word and of a sudden realized the exchange was Maidie and Sven. The Cameron’s brother who twirled his thumbs in a nervous fashion was Maidie’s father.
“Nae!” His mind screamed, “No’ Maidie.” He couldn’t let her go now that he just found her. To never feel her hands on his body again, or smell the scent of her in his nostrils, or look into her sky blue eyes and touch her golden locks. “Nae!”
“You’re pale, Munro, and you don’t know what you’re signing as yet. Come, put your mark on this document,” Hugh ordered once more and held a quill pen out to the stunned chief.
Andrew swallowed a lump that rose in his throat. “What is the document?”
Bryson Fraser spoke, “’Tis a writ of divorce that you have refused to sign these past five years.”
A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1) Page 15
