The sun rose in a blaze of spendor. It was a fine summer’s day. Hearing hoofbeats, they slipped into the shadows of a small wood to watch as a large party of men galloped by. The men bore no plaids or badges. Who knew who or what they were or where they were headed. They rode by meadows of sheep and fields of cattle. Now and again they saw a cottage or tower house in the distance. Passing men and women in the fields haying, they noticed there was always someone watching that those working be kept safe. In midmorning they stopped once again to rest their beasts and eat.
They rode on until finally it was necessary to leave the main road. They moved onto a smaller, barely visible track. They rested again, ate, rode onward. By the time the sun set on the second day, they were beginning to recognize the countryside around them. They stopped to shelter in a deserted, tumbledown cottage with no roof. Once again the horses were staked nearby.
“If my memory is functioning properly,” Fin said, “we are about half a day’s ride from Brae Aisir. If the weather remains clear, we can ride by moonlight again, and reach it by midmorning. We’ll shelter in the village first so I may learn what is happening.”
“Let me ride in before ye do, my lord,” Archie said.
Fin considered and realized it was a very good idea. They ate what remained of their small rations and then slept. The moon was high when they arose, saddled their horses, and rode on. They were surprised to find they were closer than they had thought to Brae Aisir village. They arrived just as dawn was breaking. Fin waited in a small grove of trees while Archie, leaving his horse behind, walked quietly to the cottage he knew belonged to Clennon Kerr’s family. He knocked softly. The door opened, and Archie stepped into the dwelling to find himself face-to-face with Brae Aisir’s captain.
“Archie! Yer back!” the captain said to Lord Stewart’s servant.
“Aye,” came the answer. “Edinburgh is still there,” Lord Stewart’s servant said drolly, “and I’ve had incredible luck, Clennon Kerr.”
“What luck?” Clennon Kerr asked.
Archie grinned. “My lord is in the wood just outside of the village. ’Tis a long tale, and his to tell, but I’ve brought him home safe.”
“Praise Jesu and his Blessed Mother!” Clennon Kerr said. “He is just in time to prevent that cur Ewan Hay from forcing the lady to the altar.”
“I thought the marriage was to be celebrated at Lammastide,” Archie said.
“The Hay has grown frightened she might escape him, and several of the neighboring lairds have come to insist she wed him. They will not listen to either our laird or the lady. Father David said he would wed no woman who was unwilling. The Hay sent for another priest, a man without scruples, from Haydoun, to perform the ceremony. He tried to coerce Mad Maggie by threatening her lads. But she got them from the keep two nights ago, and Iver took them to Netherdale for safety. The wee lassie is safe here in the village. Ewan Hay couldn’t tell her apart from any other bairn.
“He has control of the keep while our lads lurk in the shadows waiting to retake it, but without someone to lead them, how can they? I have not the skills for such an endeavor, nor does Iver. The wedding is scheduled for this morning,” Clennon Kerr told Archie. “But the master will have to regain the keep to stop it, and the drawbridge is kept up at all times. There is, however, a secret passage that goes beneath the moat into the cellars. With Lord Stewart at our head we can regain the keep.”
“Where is Iver?” Archie asked.
“Come,” Clennon Kerr said. “I’ll take ye to him. He’s just back.”
The two men left the cottage. The village was beginning to stir with women coming from their cottages to go to the fountain and fill their pails and jugs with water.
Clennon Kerr stopped to whisper into the ears of several of the women. By the smiles suddenly appearing upon their faces, Archie knew the captain was telling them Lord Stewart had survived and was back. Everything was going to be all right.
In another small cottage they found Iver. Fin’s captain almost wept with the news that Archie brought. “Let us go and fetch him now!” Iver said.
The three men walked through the village onto the narrow track, and out into the grove of trees where Fingal Stewart now waited. The two captains fell to their knees, catching at Fin’s big hands to kiss them. Lord Stewart urged them up onto their feet.
Then he listened as they told him what was about to transpire.
“Jock’s wife was right,” Fin said slowly.
“We must hurry!” Clennon Kerr said. “The tunnel may not be clear. It has not been used in many years.”
“He won’t attempt to bed her until tonight,” Fin said quietly. “Any marriage vows spoken will be null and void, for I am her husband, and I live. I sent a message to Brae Aisir a few weeks back telling Maggie I was alive. Ewan Hay condemns himself when he thinks to wed my wife. But why would she wed him, knowing I was coming home?”
“That is something ye’ll have to ask yer wife once we manage to retake the keep,” Clennon Kerr said. “But Mad Maggie is an honorable woman. She will have an honest explanation to give ye, my lord. I know it.”
“Gather the men,” Fingal Stewart said. “It’s time for us to come home.”
Chapter 17
Maggie was furious with herself that she had not considered her grandfather when she had gotten her children safe from the keep. Why had she not thought to send the laird away? Certainly, it would have been difficult if not impossible to make him go, and where could she have hidden him? He would never have asked sanctuary of his English kinsman. And given the pressure their neighbors had been putting on him to force her into a marriage she didn’t want, she was certain none of them would have protected him.
Now through her own lack of foresight she had been forced to sign a marriage contract, and would have to put her immortal soul in danger by killing Ewan Hay. There would have been a time when the mere thought of killing the wretch would have given her pleasure, but now it did not. Killing Ewan Hay was an absolute necessity, but it was also a sordid imposition. He was a despicable cur, but she would nonetheless feel guilt for the rest of her life for the taking of his life.
But then Maggie considered that Ewan Hay’s threatening Brae Aisir was no worse than an English borderer’s threatening them. She would have no hesitation in picking up her claymore and killing in that case.But ye would do it face-to-face and not by smothering the man to death, her conscience reminded her. She pushed the thoughts away. She had to remain strong for the sake of her own sanity, but especially for her bairns and her elderly grandsire. There would be talk, she knew, but as Busby and Grizel had agreed, it would be impossible to prove anything other than a natural death. God’s disapproval of the marriage would be bruited about along with Maggie’s belief that Lord Stewart lived. Although he would go to sleep in her bed, Ewan Hay would wake up in hell, where he surely belonged; yet that was nonetheless a better death than he deserved.
She avoided him for the remainder of the day, but each time she caught a glimpse of him, he was smiling smugly. She wanted to smack the smile off his face. It was the face of a spoiled boy. Her grandsire was none too pleased by what had happened.
