Betrothed to the Beast

by Elina Emerald

  Everyone stopped at the sound of the scream which was louder than any battle cry.

  Beiste was stunned to hear his sister speak let alone shout, but he ran towards her and picked her up “I’m here love, speak.”

  “Someone took Amelia to the chamber upstairs, a secret door, Orla has gone after them you must come now.” Beiste put Sorcha on the ground and together they headed for the Keep.

  “Bloody hell.” Brodie cursed and followed close behind.

  ***

  Into the darkness

  Orla had entered a series of cells following the light and the sound of voices. She crept in the darkness, needing to get a closer look inside the room where she knew Amelia must be. She was mindful not to be seen. As she got closer, she could make out the figure inside, it was Fergus. What the hell was going on? She put her dirk back into her boot and quietly pulled her bow and arrow from her back instead. She could take down one man easily. Orla stood just outside the wide doorway and had a clear shot of Fergus who was walking around the cell. She aimed and fired but the mark went wide because a stinging pain of a whip cut across her bow arm as her bow clattered to the ground.

  She turned and Ranalf stepped out of the shadows as he pushed her against the wall, his hand tightly gripping her neck. She tried to kick him but he subdued her, she tried to get him to release her neck but his hand wouldn’t budge; he seemed to become more excited the more she fought him and he squeezed harder.

  “Well, look what we have here? My what providence is this?” He released her neck, and she gulped in air and started cough then pushed her against the wall again, this time he was inches from her face, caging her with his entire body. “My how I’ve always wanted to see bloody red stripes on darker skin. How I have longed to play with you.”

  Orla could feel something hard poking her stomach. He was getting aroused. What kind of sick maniac was this? “You need to let us go. Beiste and his men will be here soon.” She spat.

  Ranalf laughed before he placed the palm of his hand across her neck and his mouth came crashing down on hers. He bit her lip until it bled she winced and pulled her head away. He just licked the blood. “When I’m done with her, I will take my time with you.”

  Orla had finally moved herself into a better position and she kneed him in the groin. He shouted in pain and doubled over; she tried to move away, but he grabbed her hair and threw her head towards the wall. She collided with the stone so hard she almost passed out. Ranalf took advantage of her dazed state, grabbed his whip and began whipping her in a frenzied attack. Orla fell to the ground curling into a ball trying to stay conscious and trying to protect herself from the stinging cuts.

  Amelia was screaming at him, “Stop it!”

  Ranalf seemed to come back to his senses. He stopped and was breathing heavily he kicked Orla hard in the ribs twice. Orla heard something crack and passed out from the pain.

  ***

  Beiste and Brodie descended the stairs as Dalziel waited with Sorcha, guarding the entryway. He had orders to kill anyone who came out that was not them. With the discovery of the passageway none of them knew what to expect or even who could work against them.

  Both men let their eyes adjust to the darkness, then started moving fast. The passage wound around the inner burn of the building. Beiste could not believe he only knew of this now. Whoever used it could slip in and out of the Keep and between rooms undetected. When they came to the lighted area, they slowed and stayed quiet listening before they entered. It was then Beiste heard it, the whipping sound and Amelia shouting for someone to stop. Both of them were already through the door. Brodie roared when he realised it was Orla lying unconscious on the ground. He ran towards Ranalf and knocked him out with the back of his axe. He raised it again to finish him off when Fergus roared, “Stop or I kill her now.” Both Beiste and Brodie paused when they saw Fergus holding Amelia’s hair back with one hand and holding a dagger across her neck with the other.

  Beiste could not, would not risk her life and their bairn. He needed to stay calm and think. “Now you will throw your axe over here.” Fergus said to Brodie.

  Beiste signalled Brodie to do it. Brodie glared at Beiste with a silent warning, but Beiste shook his head. “Do it now Brodie.”

  Brodie reluctantly threw the axe near Fergus’ feet. “And you will shackle yourself to that wall.” Fergus instructed.

  Brodie looked irritated, but he did as requested.

  “And you Chieftain will drop your sword and step into the light.” Beiste did so.

  Ranalf slowly came to. He stood on shaky feet but made his way inside the room where Fergus held Amelia and Beiste now stood.

  Chapter 21

  Out of the Darkness

  Fergus laughed, and it sounded more like a cackle, “That’s right you stupid prick, I’ll gut your pregnant wife like I did your last.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “The Master wanted the babe gone. Deidre just had to slip a few drops of penny royal into Caitrin’s tea that night. But the bitch still would not die, so I cut her to make sure she did.”

  Beiste felt sick to his stomach over what he was hearing. The man was a murderer and had no remorse. His first wife and babe had been murdered, and it was Beiste who had left her in the hands of a madman. Beiste would kill him where he stood. He knew this to be true.

  “You will die this day where you stand.” Beiste stated calmly.

  Fergus burst out laughing, “You think you can kill me? With what? Look around you.” He spat, “we have all the power now.” Fergus pulled Amelia’s hair harder. She winced, and Beiste wanted to kill him even more.

  Amelia was so relieved to see Beiste. His presence in that room was calming, and she knew her husband would rescue her. Such was her faith in his abilities. She knew to remain quiet and not do anything that could impede whatever he had planned.

  “Do you have any last words to say?” Beiste asked Fergus.

  Fergus looked at Beiste as if he was mad, “I don’t need last words tis you who needs them Chieftain.”

  Beiste heard a movement behind him and knew it was Ranalf, no doubt the man had regained his senses after the hit to the head, but he also knew Ranalf was still a little groggy, he shuffled as if unsteady and it was why he had not attacked from behind… yet. Beiste needed to work fast, he could not afford to have Ranalf at full capacity.

  “So, who is your Master? Is it Ranalf over here?” Beiste gestured to his right side where Ranalf stood. It gave him time to see what weapons Ranalf possessed. The whip was gone but a sword still hung by a scabbard.

  Ranalf chortled, “Our Master is your uncle Ludan and once you and your wife and your bairn are dead, he will be the new Chieftain here.”

  Beiste spoke in a deadpan voice, “That won’t happen soon, because I will kill you both for murdering my late wife and my unborn bairn and I will kill you for hurting the woman I love.” Amelia looked up at Beiste with unshed tears and complete trust shimmering in her eyes

  “You and whose army?” Fergus guffawed.

  “I don’t need an army Fergus.”

  “Ha then how do you suppose you’ll achieve that?” Fergus scoffed.

  Beiste responded, “Easy, you will die by your brother’s sword but before you do, you will live long enough to watch him felled by that axe,” Beiste nodded to the axe on the floor next to Fergus’s feet.

  Beiste looked at Amelia, “Close your eyes, love.” She stared at him a second, seeing the deathly look on his face and did as he asked.

  Both brothers burst out laughing. As the seconds ticked by Beiste didn’t react at all he just patiently waited for the opening, he knew would come he slowed down his breathing and focused on all the steps in his mind, every minute detail of the room he had committed to memory he heard only the beating of his heart and the rhythmic breathing of each man, he focused all his energy from his mind to his hands through his body.

  Fergus stopped laughing and in a blink of an eye he moved the dagger
away from Amelia’s neck and raised it in the air ready to stab the blade into her stomach, it was then Fergus knew he had made a mistake.

  In a split-second Beiste turned and unsheathed Ranalf’s sword from its scabbard at the same time Beiste’s other hand punched Ranalf in the head. Ranalf hit the floor and was struggling to get back up when Beiste ran towards Fergus and swung the sword at his raised arm, severing it at the forearm.

  Fergus staggered back and screamed in pain as the blood spurt from the open wound. He stared in shock at his severed hand lying on the floor, still holding his dagger. Without hesitation Beiste plunged the sword into Fergus’ chest, he then picked up the axe lying near Fergus’ feet, turned and braced to battle Ranalf who was coming at him with a dirk.

  Fergus was still standing, staring in disbelief at his brother’s sword now embedded in his chest. He looked up just in time to watch Beiste sever Ranalf’s head from his body with the axe. As his brother’s head rolled across the ground, Fergus cried in anguish making a gurgling sound as blood began dripping from his mouth. He collapsed onto the floor, dead.

  Beiste dropped the axe and moved towards Amelia, her body shaking, and she was whimpering but her eyes remained firmly closed. For once his woman did as she was told. “Amelia love, tis all right. You’re safe now.”

  Beiste immediately removed the shackles, and she dropped her arms in relief then cried, he lifted her into his arms “Ca… ca… can I open my eyes now?” She asked, sniffing and hiccupping.

  “No love not yet, I’ll tell you when.” He carried her out of the room and unlocked Brodie before he let her open her eyes. Brodie did not hesitate he gently picked up Orla and carried her out of the darkness. Beiste did the same with his wife.

  ***

  It was almost a month since the horrific incident of that day. They had sealed the hidden passageways, Orla had recovered from her injuries and was away spending time with Morag. As the first winter’s frost had arrived the Macleans and their retainers took their leave with great affection on both sides and promises of future visits to the Isle of Mull. Amelia was slowly increasing, and the promise of tiny feet brought excitement to the Keep. Beiste was subdued. The elation of becoming a father could not stamp out the trepidation of someone harming his wife and unborn bairn. If his protectiveness wasn’t stifling before, it was suffocating now. Many an argument could be heard between the Chieftain and his wife over the amount of restrictions placed upon her. Sorcha had finally spoken of her ordeal to her family. Everyone had remained quiet as she recounted the horror of her father’s death. The Council had met several times to discuss ways of bringing Ludan to justice for his crimes. It was a complicated issue as charges laid against a nobleman needed careful consideration. However, the decision was taken out for their hands because not long afterwards a missive arrived from the ‘Red King’ Macbeth and within it a summons to Court for Amelia MacGregor. Her accuser was none other than Ludan MacGregor and the charges laid against her was that of witchcraft.

  ***

  Chapter 22

  Macbeth’s Castle–Dunsinane, Perthshire Two weeks later

  Into the light

  Amelia shuddered at the sight of the ominous Castle on top of Dunsinane Hill. An impenetrable monolithic fortress, it terrified her to think of the dangers within its walls. Beiste felt her stiffen and wrapped his arm about her tighter.

  “Courage Amie, I’ll not be far mo cridhe.” She had travelled most of the journey sitting with him atop Lucifer and she had never felt safer. Amelia only hoped she could return with her husband when this was over.

  The following morning having been summoned by the King Amelia stood in the center of the Great Hall while Beiste sat with the other Courtiers. She had never seen such finery. From the lavers at the entranceway to the rose petals strewn across the floor. Gold painted walls resplendent with colourful tapestry and banners. The High table on the Dais was intricately carved and adorned with silver ware. The furniture about the room was brightly coloured with materials that could only have come from far-off lands. The Royal chairs featured immaculate heraldic designs. Although lavish in its decor the Castle interior retained an understated opulence, the owners exercised restraint, so the grandeur was not garish but refined. Servants and stewards lined the walls, ever ready to meet the whims of Royal Court.

  Amelia watched as King Macbeth entered the room. Everyone rose to their feet. He walked straight to Queen Gruoch ingen Boite, he kissed her cheek and silent words passed between them. There was no mistaking the genuine affection he held for his wife. He then took his seat beside her.

  Amelia finally came face to face with King Macbeth, they called him ‘The Red King’ for his fighting ability to turn battle fields blood red. She had to admit he was a handsome man, fair-haired and tall with a ruddy complexion. His eyes were assessing, but they were not unkind. Amelia curtsied low and greeted him. Your majesty.

  “Please sit, all of you sit.” Macbeth signalled to a page and a seat was brought forward. Amelia sat and so did everyone in the Hall.

  “Now then there is no need to stand on ceremony, call me cousin for we are kin are we not?”

  “Ah yes, cousin.”

  “And permit me to be frank, but you are Maldred’s illegitimate daughter?”

  “Yes, your Maj… I mean yes cousin.”

  “I have heard they miss you in Dunbar, your healing skills are reputed to be remarkable. Your mother was raised in an Abbey I presume for her healing ways were exceptional.”

  It surprised Amelia he knew about her mother. “How did you know?”

  “I have my sources, but I was also raised in a Christian Monastery from the age of seven and taught by monks, I know when talented healers have been taught by an exceptional religious order.”

  Amelia was not sure where this line of questioning was going, but she remained calm.

  “Did your mother pass anything onto you from the Abbey? My sources tell me it was Iona Abbey in the Isle of Mull.” The King asked.

  “She did, twas a book of healing methods and remedies, written in Latin and it formed the basis of a lot of her healing knowledge.”

  She looked up at the dais and caught the Queen watching her intently. She didn’t know whether to smile or look down, but then the Queen gave her a quick wink then her face became serious again. Amelia wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it lifted her spirits somewhat. She smiled tentatively then looked back at Macbeth who seemed very relaxed sitting back on his throne as if this was a minor matter he needed to complete.

  With a booming voice he then spoke, “Cousin, you have been called before this Royal Court to answer serious charges laid by a nobleman, that of witchcraft. If found guilty, the penalty is death or imprisonment. Both outcomes would mean they would strip your husband of his lands and Chieftainship for consorting with a known witch.”

  The crowd began murmuring. Amelia paled and looked at Beiste and he just looked angry.

  “How do you plead to these charges?”

  Amelia stood “I am not guilty your Majesty, I have never used witchcraft on anyone, all my knowledge I attained from my mother and she was no witch.” She sat back down.

  “There must still be a formal hearing. All you need to refute these claims is someone to vouch that your healing methods are not mere magic. It must be someone who has seen your practice first-hand and kens them to be genuine.”

  Amelia looked at Beiste. He just gave her an encouraging smile. They had witnesses with them, but she was not sure it would be enough.

  “Right then, shall we get started?” Macbeth stood and ushered people to the dais. There was a Commissary who would preside over proceedings. The crowd whispered as they approached the Dais. With them was a tall thin reedy man Amelia had never seen before. He had inky hair and cold eyes. She shivered when he walked past her and stared at her with a sneer. He could only be her accuser.

  The presiding Commissary read out the charges of Witchcraft and then called forth Ludan MacGregor to sta
te his claim. Ludan stood before the Court smugly garbed in his finery a long colourful plaid. “This woman put a spell on my nephew and his entire family. Overnight my nephew has turned from a battle-hardened warrior to a simpering lovesick fool.”

  Beiste growled and glare.

  Ludan continued, “He is unfit to rule. I request that I be installed as Chieftain of the MacGregors because of my relationship to my late brother Colban MacGregor who would be appalled by my nephew’s behaviour.”

  “You lying sack of refuse.” Beiste yelled and had to be restrained by guards.

  “What proof do you have that she is a witch?” King Macbeth asked.

  “I call upon witnesses who have seen her evil magic first-hand.”

  Amelia watched as a woman approached, her head was covered in a veil, and when she lifted it, it was Elora.

  “I have seen her work her magic over the Chieftain. Before he met her, it was I who warmed his bed every night several times a night, and he had promised I would rule by his side but after meeting her he began chanting her name instead and lighting candles at night often looking with a vacant stare at me.”

  “You speak with a forked tongue, what has my uncle paid you?” Beiste shouted, before guards silenced him. Beiste cursed. This was a farce.

  “Brother, calm.” Dalziel appeared at his side. “We will not let them harm her over lies. Just stay calm.”

  “Have you any other witnesses?”

  “I call a Mr Wallace Duncan.”

  Wallace stepped forward and similar to Elora he gave a false witness account “I was a trusted advisor and estate manager until the witch cast a spell over the Chieftain he stopped accepting my advice and listened to her, a woman. It is also sacrilegious that she can read Latin the holy language, only magic could have taught her such things, it is evil to allow women education for it places them above men and God does not allow such a thing.”