Mariote took a deep breath and shuddered. “Ye do no’ hate us?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Nay!” Alysander exclaimed. “Ye all did what ye must to protect one another. I can no’ blame any of ye fer that, Mariote.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief. Alysander could take no more of her suffering. “Mariote, do no’ fret over it any more. Ye’ve suffered enough these past months. Ye did nothin’ wrong and the way I see it, Delmar Wilgart got exactly what he deserved.”
Mariote sobbed into his chest. “But now mum has been arrested and she did nothin’ wrong!”
Alysander took in a deep breath that nearly knocked him to his feet. His ribs ached with a ferocity he didn’t think possible. But his physical pain was of no import at the moment. “Aye, that is true. But I swear to ye, I’ll do whatever I must to free her, Mariote. I swear it.”
“Does that mean we can kill the sheriff and his men?” A small voice spoke from behind them. ’Twas Orabilis.
Alysander turned to look at the wee child, amazed at the little one’s apparent lust for blood and vengeance. “Nay, it does no’,” Alysander answered.
The child shook her head in disgust and placed her hands on her hips and huffed. “I thought ye were brave, Alysander,” she challenged him.
Alysander could not resist the smile that came at her words. “I am brave, lass. But it does no’ mean we can just go killin’ people. This day, we must choose the right and just path and free yer mum legally.”
Orabilis shook her head again. “And if that path leads nowhere?”
Damn, she is every bit her mother’s child! Alysander thought. “Then and only then will we take up arms.” He did not truly believe it would come to that, but he wanted to appease the child.
“Verra well then,” Orabilis said, looking satisfied with his answer. “What do we do now?”
Unfortunately, Alysander had no immediate answer.
Three
Almer and his men made their way through the streets of Glenkirby. Moirra did her best to keep her head held high and ignore the people staring at her. Word had spread quickly and by the time they made their way to the sheriff’s office, a sizable crowd had formed.
The onlookers stared unabashedly at Moirra as the man she rode with practically tossed her to the ground. Had she not been paying attention, she would have landed on her bottom in the mud at her feet.
Within moments, she was rushed inside the small, dark building. Almer still refused to tell her anything about the charges lodged against her. She had tried repeatedly to get him to divulge some information on their way to Glenkirby, but he refused.
Three steps led down into a small room. A small table and chair sat to the left, while a larger table and two chairs took up most of the wall ahead of her. To her right was a large wooden door that led to the cells of the gaol. The scent of mold and sweat assaulted her senses.
“Put her in the cell at the back,” Almer said as he removed his sword from his belt and laid it on the large table. “The less I see or hear her, the better.”
Moirra wasn’t about to be led away without an explanation. Digging her heels in, she refused to take another step forward. “I demand to know why ye’ve arrested me, Almer!”
“I told ye before, ye daft woman, ye’ve been arrested fer the murder of me brother!” Almer yelled at her from across the room.
Moirra lifted her chin defiantly. “What evidence do ye have that he’s been murdered? And what evidence do ye have that I murdered him?”
Almer’s face turned red with fury. He slammed his hand down on top of the table before him, the sound making Moirra jump. “Me brother’s dead body — or what was left of it after the wolves feasted on it — is all the evidence I need!”
Moirra had never liked Almer Wilgart. Today, she loathed him. But seeing his barely controlled anger made her begin to fear him.
Almer gave a dismissive wave of his hand and a moment later, his men took Moirra away.
* * *
Moirra’s stomach turned when she was tossed into the small, filthy cell. Rotten, urine soaked rushes littered the cold stone floor. A small cot sat against the wall to her right. There was nothing else in the bare space, not even a blanket or chamber pot. Hope dwindled.
A sliver of light shone through the small, narrow window near the top of the cold stone wall. Even if she stood on the cot, she’d not be able to reach the window. And if she could have reached it, the heavy bars would prohibit any kind of escape.
Thick, black bars separated her cell from the empty one next to it. If she was correct in her estimation, her cell butted against an alley. The only things she could hear now was the faint sound of water dripping outside and something scurrying around in the darkness.
She had no desire to learn what kind of tiny creatures inhabited the dingy mattress on the cot. Pacing around the small space only stirred up fetid rushes and made the place smell even worse. Lifting her skirts, she used her booted feet to shove the nasty rushes into a pile near the door. It was all she could do not to retch and ended up covering her nose with the sleeve of her dress.
’Twasn’t so much a desire for cleanliness that made her clear a path. Nay, in truth, she was doing whatever she could to keep her mind from worry. But as soon as she was done, that was all she had left to do.
Her heart felt heavy with worry over Alysander and her daughters. He had been unconscious when she was hauled away, his face bloody, his body lying limp on the cold ground. She could only pray that his injuries looked worse than they were. Her only comforting thought was knowing that Mariote could tend to his wounds or send word to Deirdre asking for help.
Moirra refused to let loose the tears that were welling in her eyes. Leaning against the cold stone walls, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of her arm. What would become of her daughters? Would Alysander stay and raise them? Would he keep them from doing something stupid such as coming to the sheriff and telling him the truth?
It was doubtful that Almer would believe anything they told him. For whatever reason, he hated Moirra vehemently, and she could never reason out why. Since the day Delmar informed him of their handfasting, Almer had shown nothing but hatred toward Moirra. And now? Now he would see her hang for killing his brother.
Even if her daughters confessed the truth, Moirra knew she would be the one to hang for his murder. It mattered not to Almer what the truth might be, only that Moirra would suffer.
Four
’Twas near time for the noonin’ meal when Muriale and Esa returned with Deirdre and James McGregor. In the basket Deirdre carried were herbs, poultices, clean bandages, a jar of leeches and various other items she used for healing. Her older brother James was armed to the teeth with broadsword, daggers, and quiver and bow. If Almer Wilgart decided to return, James did not want to be caught unarmed.
Alysander was sick with worry over his wife and wanted nothing more than to head to Glenkirby and demand her release. But without his mount and in his current state, walking there would have been futile.
As soon as the group bounded into the small yard, Alysander raced out of the barn and headed directly toward his horse. “Down with ye,” he said as he began helping Muriale and Esa down.
“Lord above,” Deirdre whispered as she slid from her horse and went directly to Alysander. “How can ye even see?”
Alysander grabbed the reins of his horse and turned to look at Deirdre. “I need ye to take me daughters to yer home,” he said. “I am goin’ to Glenkirby.”
Deirdre placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Nay, I do no’ think that is such a good idea. Ye’ve been injured—”
Alysander cut her off. “I’ve had the bloody hell beaten out of me, but that does no’ matter at the moment!” he barked, yanking his arm away from her. “Me wife has been taken by the sheriff, accused of a murder she did no’ commit. I need to help her!”
Deirdre cast him a stern look. “And ye will no’ be able to h
elp her if yer dead. Let me tend to yer injuries first.
“Let Deirdre help ye,” James told him. “Then I will help ye think of a way to get Moirra out of there.”
When he saw the worried faces of his daughters, Alysander let loose with a frustrated breath. He supposed Deirdre was right in that he would probably pass out before he made it halfway to Glenkirby. Annoyed, he handed the reins over to James and nodded to Deirdre. “Verra well. I shall let ye tend to me, but I beg ye no’ to tarry. Moirra needs me.”
Five
The days crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace. Alysander and the girls were working very hard to rebuild the little cottage. They wanted the home put back to rights for the time Moirra would be set free and could return home to them. Alysander tried to absorb some of his stepdaughters’ optimism. However, he was having a difficult time convincing himself that all would be well. James had left for Stirling three days ago. Lord willing, he would be in Stirling in a few days. Lord willing, he would be able to get the missive to Finnis. Lord willing.
Long conversations took place between Alysander, Mariote and Muriale. The girls believed that if they simply went to Almer and confessed the truth, that Muriale had killed Delmar in defense of her sister, then the man would have to let Moirra go free. Alysander knew better.
“Lasses, I ken ye want only to help yer mum, and I could no’ be more proud of ye,” he told them one night as they sat around the fire. “But ye do no’ understand the likes of Almer Wilgart. He cares nothin’ for justice or truth.”
Mariote sighed heavily as she stirred the rabbit stew she was preparing for their supper. “I understand him well enough, Alysander. He’s an arrogant man, that I’ll give ye. But can ye no’ agree that even an arrogant man will see the truth if ’tis laid before him?”
“An arrogant man might,” Alysander said. But an evil and arrogant man?
At dawn each day, Alysander had ridden into Glenkirby to petition for a meeting with his wife. He was denied each and every time. It was slowly killing him inside not knowing how his wife was doing.
Six
“I demand that ye release me wife, now,” Alysander said through gritted teeth.
Almer sat behind the table, looking up at Alysander with an arrogant smile that Alysander wished he could wipe from his face. “Nay,” Almer said flatly. “I do no’ think ye be in any position to demand anythin’. Moirra has been duly charged. She’ll stay where she is until she hangs.”
It took every bit of energy Alysander owned to keep his temper in check and not unsheathe his sword and run it through Almer Wilgart’s heart. He took in one slow, deep breath before responding. “She’s been charged, but has no’ yet received a trial. How can ye hang anyone without a proper trial?”
Almer cocked a brow and leaned back in his chair. “In addition to bein’ a thief, ye also be a man of law, aye?”
“I’m neither thief nor solicitor, Almer, nor a fool. I ken ye can’t hang a person without a proper trial,” Alysander said.
Almer found great amusement in Alysander’s statement. He chuckled before rising to his feet. “Verra well then, if ’tis a trial ye want, ’tis a trial we shall have.”
Alysander watched the weaselly man carefully with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He did not trust him in the least.
“We’ll have the trial now,” Almer announced with a wave of his hand to one of his men as he smiled triumphantly.
Alysander shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nay,” he said calmly.
Almer feigned surprise. “Nay? But ye be right. I canna hang her without a trial. So we’ll have the trial now, as ye’ve demanded. She’ll be found guilty and I can hang the stupid wench at dawn on the morrow.”
“Do ye truly think I’m that big of a fool, Almer?” Alysander asked, his voice calm, his insides anything but.
Almer chuckled again, confident that he was in complete control of the situation. “Aye,” he said. “A fool. A fool for gettin’ yerself involved with Moirra Wilgart.”
Alysander gave a slow shake of his head. “Moirra McCullum.”
“Whatever it is ye choose to call the woman, it matters no’ to me. She’ll hang on the morrow just the same.”
“I think no’,” Alysander said with another slow shake of his head.
“What makes ye so confident?” Almer asked with a tilt of his head.
’Twas Alysander’s turn to smile confidently. “Because I’ve petitioned Robert.”
Almer’s brow drew into a line of confusion. “Robert? Robert who?”
“The only Robert that matters. The Robert. Robert II, the Guardian of Scotland.” Robert II was the current Guardian of Scotland whilst David was being held prisoner by the English these past eight years.
Realization dawned slowly. Almer’s arrogant smile was replaced with a look of stunned surprise before it turned red with anger. “Ye jest?”
“Nay,” Alysander said as he took a step forward. “I do no’ jest. King David is me cousin, ye see.” That was mostly true. A very distant cousin on his mother’s side. Alysander had never personally met the man but Almer needn’t know that at the moment. Alysander could only hope it would be enough to persuade Almer to allow Moirra to go free until a true and proper trial could be set.
Almer’s lips thinned as his breathing increased. “Do ye truly expect me to believe ye be a cousin to David, the King of Scotland?”
Alysander shrugged his shoulders. “It matters no’ to me what ye believe, Almer. Ye can ask Robert’s emissary when he arrives.”
Almer balled his hands into fists. “Robert’s emissary?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now ye want me to believe Robert II is sending an emissary?”
’Twas true that Alysander had petitioned Robert. But he had also sent word to Finnis Malcolm, who happened to be one of David’s emissaries currently working for Robert II. Alysander had known Finnis more than twenty years, since they were lads too young to shave. The only man he could put any hope in at the moment, was Finnis. “Again, I do no’ care what ye do or do no’ believe. But I can tell ye this,” he leaned in, placing his hands on the top of the table. “If anythin’ happens to me wife, anythin’ at all, before David’s emissary arrives, ye, and ye alone, will be held responsible.”
“Are ye threatenin’ me?” Almer asked with a look of revulsion on his face.
Alysander stood upright. “Nay, ’tis no threat, Almer. It be a promise.”
* * *
Alysander all but held his breath as he waited for Almer to think about the implications. While Almer may have been as dumb as a basket of rocks, he was not so much a fool as to take a chance with angering the King of Scotland or Robert II. Almer looked mad enough to bite his sword in half. Backed into a corner as he was, he had very little choice in the matter. “Verra well,” he said as he pushed away from his desk. “The trial will be set for thirty days from now.”
’Twas all Alysander could do to keep from shouting with joy. Biting his tongue, he stood taller and did his best not to look overcome with relief.
“But I swear to ye, McCullum, if yer emissary does no’ arrive, I will have the trial without him and Moirra will hang. And if I find ye lied about being King David’s cousin, ye’ll hang beside her.”
There were so many things Alysander wanted to tell the repugnant man standing before him, but he knew ’twould be best to hold his tongue for now. He’d just received a thirty day reprieve. Insulting the man now could only lead to his wife’s death, and, mayhap, his own. “I have no doubt that David’s emissary is on his way to Glenkirby as we speak.”
Hopefully, he wouldn’t stop at every brothel or tavern along the way.
Seven
Deirdre McGregor knew Almer Wilgart very well. She’d known him since she was a little girl for he was one of her brother Thomas’ best friends. ’Twas a friendship she could never quite figure out, for the two men were as different as night and day. They had nothing in common save for their st
rong dislike of Moirra. Why either of them disliked Moirra was something she doubted she would ever be able to figure out. Moirra was a kind, generous woman and Deirdre’s closest friend.
Swallowing her pride, Deirdre decided to use the friendship her brother and Almer had to her advantage. Standing before Almer Wilgart, she pushed her shoulders back and offered him her most sincere smile. She nearly choked on the sweet words she extolled on the man.
“So ye see, Almer, I want only to make certain that Moirra be healthy and well. I would hate fer the King’s Emissary to think ye didna take good care of her.”
She knew full well that Almer was not taking good care of Moirra. It wasn’t in his nature to show kindness to anyone, least of all someone he hated. Still, she had to stroke his ego if she were to have any chance at seeing Moirra.
Almer gave the matter some thought before finally agreeing. “Verra well, Deirdre. I shall let ye see the prisoner, but only fer a short time.”
Smiling as sweetly as she could, she thanked him for his kindness. What she sincerely wished she could do was run a dirk through his ugly, dark heart.
* * *
Deirdre was unable to quash the gasp of shock that came with seeing Moirra for the first time in days. Gaunt and pale, dark circles had formed under Moirra’s eyes. Deirdre rushed into the cell, the smell of urine, vomit and feces assaulting her senses as she knelt before her dearest friend.
“Deirdre,” Moirra whispered, sounding dazed and confused.
“Moirra, what have they done to ye?” Deirdre asked as she took Moirra’s hands in hers. They felt as cold as ice. Deirdre looked into Moirra’s eyes. They were glassy and vacant. The woman staring back at her was not the same Moirra that Deirdre had called friend for all these many years.
Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection ( Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection (The Moirra's Heart Series Book 3)) Page 14
