The Raven's Moon

by Susan King

  Just as Simon shoved open the turret door, Mairi ran toward the low pitched roof, climbing its slant to reach the chimney house. The door gave easily and she slipped inside, closing it. Moonlight flowed in from two small windows, and she could see well enough to throw the door bar securely.

  The room was about six feet square, and the platform floor was built around the roof peak. She stepped back and leaned against the warm chimney wall, catching her breath.

  Within minutes, she heard shouting and running footsteps, and then a frightening banging sounded on the door.

  "Mairi! Open up! I order you!"

  She held still, praying the bar would hold and that he would think she had gone elsewhere. She waited, holding her breath.

  "Come out! I will not hurt you. I only wanted to know if you saw how that rascal Heckie attacked me. I had to kill him to defend myself."

  Mairi gasped at the lie. He was more conniving than she had realized. Now she could only do her best to protect herself from him. She glanced around the tiny house for a weapon.

  A few lances stood upright in the corner, leaned against the wall. She crossed there and hefted one in her hands, its length difficult to manage in the awkward space. She set it back.

  Then she saw the pistol on the floor, gleaming in the moonlight. She closed her hand around its heavy handle. It was a wheel-lock, left by one of the guards. And she knew how to handle one of these. Groping around, she found a leather pouch beside where it lay. Inside were lead balls, gunpowder, and the tiny, essential key.

  With trembling fingers, she loaded it and turned the metal key to wind the mechanism.

  Simon slammed against the door, the blows threatening to crack the wood. Drawing a breath, Mairi lifted the gun in both hands, aimed it, and waited.

  Silence. The gun was heavy, but she held it steady. Then she jumped at another noise. Turning, she saw the glint of Simon's steel bonnet and breastplate at the other window.

  "Mairi," he called. "If you will not come out, I will fish you out wi' smoke."

  Mairi aimed the pistol toward the window. The silence that followed was thick and extended.

  Then he returned with a bright, smoking torch.

  * * *

  "Now that is a reiving moon," Jock said. "The kind the Scotts like best. White and clear, but not too full to show us."

  Rowan glanced up. "Those dark clouds say yet another storm is on its way." He shook his head, returning his gaze to the stark silhouette of Abermuir Tower. In one turret he saw torchlight glimmer.

  "We can hurry," Sandie said. "Scumfishing's quick."

  "If we smoke them out, we will have a hundred troopers after us. We're here to find Mairi."

  "She'd come running out wi' the rest," Sandie said.

  "Smoke would stir more trouble than we need." Rowan turned to Archie. "Where would he keep her?"

  "I doubt she is in the dungeon," Archie replied. "Perhaps in the spare bedchamber on the top floor next to his own."

  Rowan nodded. "We'll follow Archie, as we discussed, through the yett and up the steps. Then Archie and Geordie will gather the guards in the barnekin with some distraction, while I go in search of Simon and Mairi."

  "We'll set a fire in the yard if we must," Archie said.

  "We'll search each floor until we find her," Rowan said. "Ready your weapons."

  "Eh, scumfishing's the way," Sandie grumbled.

  "I heard once o' reivers who took a tower by its roof," Christie said. "They cut down a tall pine tree and leaned it against the wall, and climbed up its branches. Then they took off the roof and went down." Sandie gave a soft, approving hoot.

  Clouds covered the moon. Rowan glanced up again. "Let's go. Geordie, hand me the papers and the mirror as well. I mean to tempt Simon with what we've found." Geordie handed him the mirror and pages in a packet.

  Rowan gathered his reins and led the way. The silence among the others was as determined and grim as his own.

  Thunder rumbled overhead as they rode toward the tower.

  * * *

  Smoke swirled into the tiny chimney house, filling it quickly, obscuring the moonlight. Mairi covered her nose and mouth with her hand, breathing shallowly. Simon had sealed the first window with a board leaned there, and then had tossed burning, pitch-soaked rags inside the second window. Smoke poured upward, smothering the light and the breathable air.

  Mairi tried to stamp out the rags, but they burned out quickly; the smoke was the threat. She could scarcely take a breath, and her eyes were tearing.

  She would have to go outside, where Simon waited. But he did not know she had a pistol. Gripping it tightly, aiming ahead, she opened the door.

  As she eased out, Simon jumped from the side and grabbed her. The gun fell from her hand as he pinned her arms and lifted her from the ground. She kicked and struggled, screaming, but he did not relax his hold as he carried her across the roof.

  Two guards inside one of the turrets looked out the door, seeing Simon dragging her away, but they ducked back inside as if hesitant to interfere.

  "Are your men all like you?" she asked breathlessly. "Scoundrels and traitors?"

  "When I set you down and we talk," he said, "you will say that you saw Heckie attack me."

  "I saw you attack him," she insisted.

  "You saw it wrong," he growled. "You saw me defend myself if you value your life and the lives o' your husband and kinsmen."

  "You cannot barter my silence," she said.

  "I do not want to kill you," he said. "But a fall from this tower would prove deadly. Or a fall down the steps." He set her on her feet, holding her securely.

  Thunder grumbled overhead. Simon glanced up.

  Mairi stomped on his foot, kicked backward and caught him hard in the knee with her foot. As he grunted and faltered, she dropped, bending her knees to slide down—and out of his grip. Then she ran.

  Simon stumbled and fell, then rose to his feet, cursing as he ran in pursuit.

  As she headed for one of the turrets, he lunged toward her. Spinning away, she pounded across the roof toward the chimney house. Seeing the fallen pistol, she grabbed it in both hands, swinging wildly as she pointed the barrel at him.

  "Stay there," she said. "I'll fire it."

  He took a step closer. "You would not, Mairi lass."

  "I will," she insisted. "I will fire it. Stay back."

  "I would not harm you—no need to fear."

  "You backstabbed Heckie. You would kill me if you thought it necessary."

  He came toward her. "A shame you saw me and Heckie, lass. I thought you and I were better comrades than this, hey." He held out a hand. "Give me that pistol."

  Behind him, in the darkness, the turret door opened. Shadowy figures crossed the roof. Mairi flicked her glance there, then at Simon, fearing his guards would aid him.

  He dove toward her, swatting at the gun barrel. As Mairi took an instinctive step backward, her foot hit the edge of the sloped roof. She stumbled, her arm flew wide, and the pistol misfired, an explosion of sound and flashing light. The recoil knocked her fully back and the gun dropped as she fell.

  Simon lunged and grabbed her, hauling her to her feet, spinning her to trap her in front of him with one arm. She felt the point of a dagger at her throat, and though she wrapped her hands around his arm, she could not get free.

  "A loaded pistol cannot be trusted," Simon growled. "One shot and 'tis useless. Come wi' me." He pushed her forward a little, then stopped abruptly. Mairi glanced up and gasped.

  "She'll come wi' me, I think." Rowan's deep voice cut like a keen blade through the wind. Mairi widened her eyes as he stepped out of the shadows, a pistol steady in his hand.

  Wind whipped his hair, and he stared unmoving at Simon, like a dark, powerful angel of judgment.

  * * *

  "Blackdrummond, you blasted scoundrel," Simon growled. Rowan saw how tightly the warden held Mairi, saw the stinging gleam of the dagger tip pressing the underside of her jaw. He felt an overwh
elming urge to lunge for the man and simply and quickly destroy him. But he only gripped his gun tighter, glancing at Mairi and away.

  "What are you doing here?" Simon demanded.

  "We came to Abermuir to talk with you. We found Heckie's body in the hall." Rowan was sure by Mairi's expression that she knew something of that. He turned a cold gaze on Simon.

  "That rascal jumped me," Simon said. "I had to kill him."

  Rowan had turned the body over, had seen the killing wound. "By stabbing him in the back? He held no weapon."

  Simon glowered, his face shadowed beneath his helmet. Mairi glanced quickly from Simon to Rowan.

  "Rowan—Simon and Heckie worked together—" she began, and cried out as Simon pressed the dagger point deeper.

  Rowan took a step forward, his fingers tense on the pistol. Even if he shot Simon, the man could still slit Mairi's throat. "Touch her again with that blade and I will blast your head from your shoulders," he warned. "Tell me more, Mairi," he said, without looking at her. He could not look, or lose his hard won control. "Heckie and Simon are spies?"

  "She lies to protect her brother," Simon said. "I suspected Heckie was part of this all along."

  "Did you?" Rowan asked calmly. Thunder sounded overhead. Rowan saw Simon squeeze Mairi tighter, with greater threat. The coming storm seemed to unnerve him. Mairi set her arms around Simon's arm to relieve the pressure of his grip, but Rowan feared that Simon, so anxious now, would choke her.

  "Let her go," Rowan said, low and fierce.

  "Bring me the prisoners I want," Simon said.

  "There. Done," he said, as Alec and Iain stepped out of the shadows. "Let her go."

  Mairi gasped. "Rowan, you cannot—"

  "Do not fret," he said. "I am loyal to my kin. And they to me. Lads!"

  Alec and Iain lifted pistols and pointed them at Simon.

  "What is this?" Simon snapped. "They should be arrested. Guards!" He shouted again, keeping hold of Mairi.

  "Archie and others have seen to your guards in the barnekin," Rowan said. "And we've tended to the watchmen up here as well."

  "Archie too! By hell! You'll all hang for this! Deputies cannot usurp their warden. I represent the king's authority here. This is treason."

  "Is it?" Rowan asked. He reached inside his leather jack and withdrew a folded paper. "And what is this?"

  "A warrant for your blasted arrest, I hope!"

  "A letter in a Spanish code," Rowan explained patiently. "The translation is quite poetic. A lovely lady gathers red roses by the sea, it says, and watches for the raven's moon, when the white rose will blossom."

  Simon snorted. "'Tis nonsense."

  "Unless you understand what it signifies. And I do. I'll barter with you, Simon. My wife for this—" He slid his hand inside his jack again, and took out the black mirror.

  Rowan saw shock register on Simon's face. "I do not know what that thing is," Simon said disdainfully. "I am done wi' games, Blackdrummond. Redeem yourself, or this will be reported to the council and the king. Fetch my guards and arrest those two scoundrels for spying!"

  Rowan held out the stone. "Take it," he said. "Go on." He watched Simon evenly. The warden looked tempted to snatch it and run. But he smiled flatly.

  "Why would I want that?"

  "Just look at it, Simon," Mairi said.

  Rowan nodded, knowing she tried to distract the warden so that the others could take him down.

  He held it at an obliging angle so Simon could see the polished convex surface. A few dashes of rain washed the slick skin of the stone to a glistening, eerie, blackness.

  Simon looked at it, then blinked and grew pale. Thunder crashed overhead and he glanced upward, clutching Mairi hard against him. He looked anxiously around, clearly frightened, as if he had seen something in the stone.

  But Rowan was sure, now, that the warden was afraid of the approaching storm.

  "Jehovah's wrath. We've got to get inside," Simon blurted. "Go on ahead."

  "A moment," Rowan said casually. He had no desire to be on a roof in a lightning storm, but he would not give Simon a chance to get away so easily.

  "If you do not want the stone," Rowan said, sliding it inside his jack, "perhaps you'll want what was found inside it." He displayed the folded paper, waggling his fingers as if he conjured it in a magic trick.

  "What is that?" Simon barked. "Give it here."

  "A writ from the Spanish government, signed by King Philip himself, promising the bearer payment in gold and free passage on any Spanish trading ship. And it has your name written on it, Simon."

  Simon watched him, his eyes narrowed. Mairi clung to Simon's restraining arm, her eyes wide. Rowan could not risk meeting her gaze.

  "So that is why you wanted the raven's moon," Rowan went on. "It was intended for you, but the ship wrecked."

  Simon laughed. "Ridiculous. Why would I want that?"

  Rowan heard the thunder rolling closer, and he wanted only to grab Mairi and carry her away to safety. But he nodded calmly to Simon. "My guess is that you made some agreement with the Spaniards, and planned to leave Scotland once you had gathered your fortune and completed your promise."

  "Hah," Simon said. "Your brother and Mairi's planned such a thing. I am a warden. A king's man."

  "Are you for the king—or for yourself? What did you promise in exchange for wealth and the chance to live out your days in a castle in a warmer climate, or perhaps in the New World?"

  "Paradise," Mairi said suddenly. "You were looking for paradise, weren't you, Simon?"

  Rowan did not understand what she meant, but he saw a flicker of acknowledgment in Simon's shifting, haunted eyes.

  "What did you promise them, Simon?" he asked. "Access to the Middle March, so that they could bring in troops and cross the border to invade England?"

  "That is pure fancy."

  "You would have to be in league with agents in the East or West March for that. This ring of spies may be far larger than the privy council suspects."

  Simon huffed a flat chuckle. "You're trying to conceal your own involvement. Your own plan."

  "We have your name here," Rowan said, wiggling the paper. "I have already posted a message to the council by fast rider." He had not yet, but surely would. "Heckie is dead, but we will get Clem. I'm certain he knows about this. And he will not be pleased that you've killed his brother. I do not think you find loyalty from him."

  "You cannot prove anything!" Thunder boomed, close and loud. Simon shifted toward the turret, dragging Mairi along.

  "Stop!" Iain called as he and Alec stepped forward, pistols aimed at Simon. Rowan held up a detaining hand.

  "You cannot prove any o' this!" Simon yelled. "You are the criminals here. Guards!" he bellowed.

  "We have proof, Simon," Rowan said.

  "There is none!"

  "Heckie stole a gold medallion off me weeks ago. I saw it again in that box of gold that you claimed Iain took. But Iain and Alec took two large sacks o' gold from Heckie, not one casket."

  "Liars. Sneakbaits."

  "How did the piece Heckie stole make its way into a casket that you claim Iain and Alec took long before I was attacked?"

  Simon was silent, watchful, his breath heaving.

  "Heckie gave it to you later, after Iain was taken," Rowan continued."That may prove the link between you two. You turned that casket over to the English warden, claiming that was all you had recovered. But two large sacks were taken from the shipwreck. Where is the rest, Simon?"

  "You are all art and part in this together," Simon said stubbornly. A stream of lightning flashed overhead. "Go ahead down those steps if you want the lass to live. Go!" He motioned toward Rowan. "You hold a gun, but I hold your wife. Go!"

  The next blast of thunder seemed to shake the roof. Simon looked up in terror. Then he pushed Mairi roughly, suddenly, into Rowan, so that they both went down, and Simon ran.

  As Alec and Iain took off after him, Rowan rolled to his feet, and helped Mairi up.
She nodded that she was fine, and quickly Rowan moved across the roof after the others.

  Simon ran toward the turret, Alec and Iain behind him. The door opened then, and Archie and Geordie stepped out, pistols in hand. Jock was behind them with several troopers at his back. Simon spun away, knocking heavily into Alec and Iain and scrambling to run past them in a panic.

  The sky seemed to split open as lightning lit the dark clouds from within and thunder roared. A powerful blast of wind tore across the roof, and Rowan turned to push Mairi toward one of the guardhouses on the roof.

  "Get inside!" he yelled, wanting her safe. "Go!"

  She pulled open the door, fighting the wind, and Rowan turned away, now seeing Simon hurtling toward another turret. Sandie and Christie stepped out of that one, weapons ready.

  Simon spun again, turned, stopped, turned again, and then dashed toward the parapet. Rowan ran, but stopped suddenly, uncertain what Simon intended to do.

  Thunder cracked so hard that Rowan felt its reverberation in his body. The wind beat at him, whirled around him. He looked up to see clouds rolling menacingly over the moon. Lightning flashed inside the clouds like lantern light.

  "Get inside!" he shouted to Iain and Alec. Beyond them, Simon hesitated at the parapet edge, staring upward.

  "Simon!" Rowan yelled. "Inside!" He gestured toward the nearest turret, where Sandie and Christie stood, waving him toward them in the wild wind. Simon moved in their direction.

  Rowan spun, looking for shelter. Mairi called, holding open the guardhouse. He ran.

  Thunder cracked like cannon, and out of the black sky, a silvery shard of lightning cracked against the roof.

  Running, Simon jerked and threw his arms upward. A cage of light slid over his helmet and breastplate and enveloped him in a glowing, fatal web. He hovered in the air—and fell.

  Rowan stepped forward, then ran to Simon.

  * * *

  Leaning against the door of the chimney house, coughing from the lingering smoke, Mairi set a shaking hand to her face. She felt stunned, numb, her legs shaking.

  Watching through the darkness and the storm, she saw Rowan and the others hovering around Simon, and then dragging his body toward shelter. Gasping, she slid downward to half kneel, exhausted. Thunder roared again, and she waited while the others tended to the warden. She knew he was dead—he could not have survived that.