* * *
“They have been doing something to her,” said Callum later that night as Uven came to settle down on the pallet. “I dinnae ken what but her gown was wet.”
“Ye dinnae think it was what he said.”
“Nay, I think he was lying and she cleverly changed the subject.”
Uven frowned. “No bruises or other signs of injury?”
“Nay, not that I could see. Yet what would leave her in a wet gown?”
“Plunging her in the water. Was her hair wet too? I didnae look.”
“Aye, it was, though nearly dry. So what are ye thinking they are doing to her?”
“Dunking. The dunking could be used to get her to confess. Dinnae think there is anyone who isnae afraid of drowning, aye?”
“Aye,” Callum agreed, his anger simmering inside him as he recalled the fear he had felt when he had thought he would drown. “They put her in water until she feared she was going to drown, didnae they? And for that she was supposed to say, ‘Oh, aye, I killed Kerr.’”
“I believe that is how ’tis done, aye, though I have only ever shoved a mon’s head into the water until he thought he would drown. He did tell me what I wanted to ken though.”
For a moment Callum forgot his anger and stared at Uven. “Just when were ye holding a mon’s head under the water to get information and why?”
“King’s business.”
“Jesu, Uven, that is a good way to meet God early.”
Uven winced. “I kenned it nay long after that and got away. It was exciting but, aye, a good way to get yourself killed.” He crossed his arms under his head. “Aye, had a lot that I liked what with that excitement, the danger, and, oh, the lassies who smile favorably on such men. Then a friend was killed. After I was done grieving for him, I looked at all he had lost, all he would ne’er have, and weighed it against what he had accomplished, none of it for him, only for the king, and it didnae weigh in weel. For king and country, aye, in a battle, a war, a true fight with good, clear reasons. The other things, the spying, watching fools who think they are so much better and should be king? Nay. That sort of thing also turns on ye when ye least expect it and ye can get killed by the ones ye used to call friend. I walked away. Too many secrets. Too many lies.”
“Verra wise, especially when ye find out the one the king names an enemy isnae always a true threat to the throne.”
Uven laughed. “Och, aye, true enough.”
Callum smiled but then sighed, unable to hold fast to any humor. Those men at the sheriff’s had been using torture to get Bethoc to confess to a crime she had not committed. He was not sure what they were doing since they would have to submerge her completely to get her gown as soaked as it was. She had to have been so afraid, he thought, and that stirred his anger. He had not protected her.
“If she gets but one wound, one bruise, I will beat the whole lot of them into the dust,” he finally said.
He glanced over at Uven and sighed again. His cousin was asleep. He would obviously be sharing his bed tonight, just not with the company he would prefer. Settling down as comfortably as he could, he closed his eyes. Callum knew rest was needed if he was to be able to free Bethoc. If naught else, he would need his wits sharp.
Sleep was almost upon him when he felt a small weight jostle the pallet then curl up at his side. Callum opened one eye and saw Margaret huddled up against him, half on his chest. He put his arm around her in the hope that he could keep her from rolling off the pallet. Although there was no whining, no crying, he knew the child missed Bethoc. He missed Bethoc. Silently he swore to Margaret that he would get Bethoc out of that cell even if he had to raid the place, grab her, and then flee.
Chapter Eleven
Waking up and retching was getting tedious, Bethoc decided as she crawled away from the mess she had made. She always held the fear that William would make a mistake and she would actually drown. Nothing she did could ease that fear. Her belly hurt as did her lungs. The rest of her body ached all over. She feared sitting around in damp clothes would bring on a fever as well and, if she got a fever in this wretched place, it could kill her.
Perhaps she should have told Callum what they were doing but she had eluded his every question about her damp clothing and her weariness. One look at the sheriff was enough to make her believe that, if she spoke up, it would be far, far worse for her and that was terrifying. She had nursed Laurel after the men had taken her away and she lived in fear of the same thing happening to her.
“Better now?” asked Laurel as she sat up and looked at Bethoc.
“A bit. Getting the water out helps.”
“That was the fourth dunking,” Laurel whispered.
“I ken it. All I can do is pray Callum returns with what is needed to set us free.”
“Us.” Laurel laughed and it was not a pretty sound. “Ye really think he can free me?”
“Aye. If there is any proof ye didnae kill your husband hewillfind it.”
