Caillen saw there would be no backing down from Emer’s commitment to tying up her parents’ affairs.
“Where did yer faither keep his will?” was all he asked.
“The kirk had a strongbox, kept away from dangers such as fires and floods. I will ask Ernest to find the will me faither wrote. The authority regarding wills in Nethy is the local pastor. The reading can be done in a trice, and I’ll meet ye back here before dinner time.”
Caillen shrugged, saying, “I dinnae mind kicking up me heels at the inn for a few hours, love, but please dinnae make a long day of it. I’ll send Gilby on ahead. He can tell anyone visiting for me at the keep to bide their time awhile.”
Emer crammed her riding hat onto her head, gave Caillen a sweet kiss on his cheek, and ran downstairs. Very soon, she was at the kirk speaking to the ubiquitous Ernest. He confirmed the old kirk records were kept at the manse. The housekeeper let her in, recognizing her as the young lady from the day before, and she was sitting down with Pastor Dougal and a cup of hot tea not ten minutes later.
He reassured Emer that between him and Ernest, they would have the deeds to the land sold as soon as a buyer made themselves known.
“I’m making young Ernest me curate, so he can do all the running around on me behalf,” said the pastor, waving his quill in front of the page on which he had been writing, “then I can simply wait in me study and make sure all the signing and witnesses are above board.”
He gave an encouraging nod to Emer, “Yer sister and ye will have to travel up from the keep to make yer marks on the agreement – but the deal should be wrapped up all nice an’ tight by the equinox.”
Emer did not know how to feel. Once their land was sold, any life to do with farming would be lost to the two Wylie girls forever. Then their lives would be free to take any course – and she prayed the path her sister chose would make her as happy.
She thanked Pastor Dougal and went back to the inn. Caillen had hired a horse for her.
“In case making the journey back in such a short time causes Bessie to lose weight,” was Caillen’s explanation, “she can follow on behind when the innkeeper can spare a groom.”
So, she had left the fat little palfrey at the inn to enjoy the comforts of the stable for a bit longer. They traveled back to the keep at a brisk trot, breaking their horses into a canter on the downhill slopes. The feeling of the wind blowing through her hair, and the sun dappling the tree shade along the road made Emer’s heart sing. She was in love and loved equally in return; she could see no shadows on the horizon.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emer’s elation was not to last. The road from Maclachlan keep to Nethy skirted around Sutherland clan territory. It was still the King’s highway, but the land on either side belonged to those who considered Donal Sutherland their liege laird.
Heedless of the fact waylaying anyone on His Majesty’s roads was against the law, a gang of men, loyal to Donal Sutherland above all others, was blocking the lane when Caillen and Emer crested a rise in the road.
The men did not need to raise their hands to make the couple stop; they were armed and formed a blockade of riders and horses, with thick bushes and trees on either side. The choices were to stop, ride into the fray, or turn around back the way they had come. But when they looked back at the road behind them, a cadre of horses and men had blocked their escape on that route.
Caillen, riding slightly ahead, held his arm out in a halt gesture with his fist clenched. Emer obeyed.
Keeping a cautious eye on one of the men who had an arrow slotted into a longbow and another who cradled a musket in his arms, Caillen said, “Let the lady pass. Yer quarrel, for whatever reason, is with me.”
One of the men replied, “We ken who she is. She’s coming with us.”
Caillen looked back over his shoulder at Emer, and, for the first time since meeting him, she saw panic in his eyes. But it was not on his own behalf he was afraid – it was for her.
He gave a slight nod of his head, and she knew there was no getting out of this, no jaunty joke or witty comeback. They were prisoners and would see the inside of Sutherland lodge just as soon as their horses brought them there. Her stomach lurched at what might happen to them once they crossed Donal Sutherland’s threshold, but her fear was for Caillen, not for herself.
“Are ye going to behave yerselves,” the man asked, “or will I be forced to tether yer horses together?”
Not bothering to give a reply, Caillen kicked Menzies forward in the direction of Sutherland keep. Her heart in her mouth, Emer followed.
Instead of heading toward the tavern at the crossroads where they had planned to spend the night, Caillen and Emer were now riding northwards, inexorably closer to Sutherland lodge where it nestled in the hills at the foot of the Cairngorm mountains. The villages they passed paid obvious fealty to Laird Donal, and the people who lived in them wore the pale green and blue Sutherland clan tartan. To Emer, who had never traveled these lands before, it seemed alien and uncanny. Suspicious eyes monitored their progress, and unkind words were whispered behind hands or shouted out behind them as they rode by. It was eerie.
Why do they hate Caillen so much? What has he ever done to them? He’s just the son of the auld enemy of their Laird! How petty must this Donal Sutherland be to foster such a festering hatred throughout his clan?
The moon had risen in the night sky, and bats were flying in the air to catch summer midges before the black outline of the lodge hove into view. Emer gave one last desperate look behind her before the cavalcade rode inside the stable courtyard. The gates clanged shut the second the last rider crossed over.
Caillen dismounted and went to stand next to Emer’s horse to catch her as she climbed wearily out of the saddle.
“Come,” the man said to them, leading them into one of the side entrances. From the edge of her eye, Emer caught a glimpse of a small chapel a stone’s throw away. However, she was not subtle enough in her observation, and the man saw her looking at the tiny structure.
“Are ye thinkin’ about popping in there to say yer prayers, lass?” he snickered, “I’m afraid the closest ye’re going to get to it is yer view from the cellar.”
True to his words, when he shoved Caillen and Emer into the dark, musty-smelling cellar room lined with old casks and barrels a few moments later, she could indeed see the chapel roof in the moonlight. She ran to the basement window, stood on one of the barrels, and pulled herself up to look out. She stared out at the little building, holding onto the iron bars that crisscrossed the gap between the stone walls and the ground, and thought about what Pastor Dougal had told her.
