‘Talk? You think to talk to me? You think I would talk to you now? I have waited for months to avenge the murder of my son.’ The dagger went deeper and Brodie could feel blood seeping from the wound. ‘I think I will not give you such a quick ending. A gut wound will have you suffering for days.’ The blade pierced the skin on his belly. ‘Days when you will beg for death and it will not be given.’
Those around cheered their laird and Brodie could feel himself slipping away. He must stop this now.
‘Arabella...’ He panted. Now he spiralled down into some dark place.
Cold water shocked him, causing him to spasm and gasp for breath. Every movement and cough that tore through him caused agony anew. He prayed for the strength to survive. For if he did not, neither would...
‘Arabella,’ he said louder.
‘Do not speak of my daughter, you damned murderer!’ Euan yelled. A fist pounded into his face. ‘I will not have the man who took the life of my son speak her name.’
‘He did not kill Malcolm.’
Brodie hung on to consciousness by a thin thread and thought he’d imagined the voice and the words. They were followed by such an uproar, it would have wakened the dead. It took some time for the laird to regain control over his men and his hall. Brodie tried to lift his head, tried to see who’d spoken but he could not.
‘What did you say, boy?’ Euan demanded.
Boy.
Boy?
Alan.
‘I said Brodie did not kill Malcolm. The other one did.’
Could it be that simple? Could a child’s word give him absolution for a crime he’d accepted on his own soul? Did the boy speak the truth?
‘Clear this chamber!’ Euan called out. Over many vocal protests, they left as he ordered until it was quiet. ‘Come here, Alan,’ he said. A pause while the boy must have come to his uncle’s side.
‘Now tell me truly. Were you there that night?’
‘Aye.’ The boy’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘You followed Malcolm, then? As you were told not to do while we were there?’ Courage, boy, he thought.
‘Aye, Uncle,’ Alan admitted. ‘I just wanted to see what they would do.’
‘And what did they do?’ Euan asked. ‘Come now, you’ve admitted your disobedience. Tell me the rest of it. It will not change your punishment.’
If Brodie could have moved at all, he would reach up and throttle the older man. Why would any boy speak a word after such a threat? ‘Boy,’ he forced out. ‘What did you see?’
‘The other one stayed awake when Malcolm and Brodie and the others slept. They fell asleep all over the ground.’ Alan paused. ‘I can drink more than they did, Uncle!’
‘Then what happened, Alan? When Malcolm slept on the ground.’
‘He...’
‘Lord Caelan?’
‘Aye, Lord Caelan stabbed Malcolm. I thought he would wake and save himself, but he did not.’ He could hear the distress in the boy’s voice. He was crying. ‘Then Lord Caelan threw Malcolm on Brodie and left him there.’ He cried openly now as he explained how his beloved cousin had died.
‘See to him,’ Euan said.
Thinking he meant the boy, Brodie was surprised when the ropes that bound him were cut and he was freed. As the feeling rushed back into his arms and legs, he was dragged to his feet and held there.
‘Why did you not tell me this sooner?’ Euan asked Alan. ‘If you knew the truth of it?’
‘I was not supposed to be there. I knew you’d be angry. And then Lord Caelan said he’d seen Brodie stab Malcolm. I did not dare to call him a liar.’
