Caillen laid down on the stretcher, made himself comfortable, and then said, “Aye, then. Let’s get this over with.”
He already had the cut on his cheek, but this was not enough to convince anyone. Buidheach took a water skin out of his saddlebag and emptied the contents over Caillen’s chest. Blood sloshed out, just enough to signify someone’s lifeforce was spent.
“Put a bit on his cheek to make it look fresh,” Gawain suggested.
“Ye’re enjoying this, are ye nae?” Caillen groaned, and then they laughed.
“Gape yer mouth a bit,” Buidheach said, “and flop one o’ yer hands over the side. Good. Let’s be off.”
Gawain placed the kerchief Emer had given him over Caillen’s face and tied it under his neck so it could not shift or blow away. Now his brother’s head looked eerily like it was covered by a shroud.
Gawain’s horse towed the stretcher, and the captain of the guard rode behind. There was a bit of talking at the castle gatekeep before they were swung open. A great cry came from the guardhouse.
“Our Laird! Our Laird is dead!”
Many wails and cries followed the procession up to the main entrance.
“Make way, make way,” Buidheach commanded, “ye two men, McKinney and young Henretty, get over here an’ help me with the stretcher.”
The men hoisted the stretcher high above their heads so it could be carried easily up the stairs. Caillen could feel more than two sets of hands were bearing him home.
“Take him to the library, men, and be sure to cover the mirrors and draw the curtains. We must pay respect to the auld customs.”
Caillen had told Buidheach to say that in case the Sutherland messenger wanted to see his ‘corpse.’ A darkened room with the mirrors covered would be just the thing to convince him.
He heard the door close and allowed himself to relax; it was hard work pretending to be dead. Caillen wondered to himself why he never felt itchy when he was allowed to move around, but the minute he was required to lie still, he got an overwhelming need to scratch his skin in various places. He listened hard for the sound of footsteps in the passage and then risked rubbing the end of his nose and shifting his posture a little.
Then the most unexpected incident occurred: Caillen Maclachlan fell asleep.
* * *
Emer was watching the road anxiously. It had been over one day since she had heard any news. She saw a horseman cantering at an easy pace toward the outpost and called down to Gilby, “Someone approaches!”
He ran up the steps and gave her his arm to hold onto. Gilby had made her promise to only descend when she had assistance before he allowed her to stand watch.
They walked down and waited at the entrance. The rider came to a halt right next to where they stood and dismounted.
“The Laird sends for ye,” the rider informed them.
Gilby nodded and went round the back of the tower to fetch their horses.
Emer did not move, “Which Laird?” She had to know.
The rider smiled and replied, “Both.”
She felt such a sense of relief. Now events at the castle seemed to have come to a successful conclusion. Emer knew what she had to do.
Gilby brought the hired horse from Nethy for her to mount. It had recovered completely from its grueling ride and escape and seemed as eager to reach Maclachlan castle as its rider.
The three of them set off together. It was not a pleasure ride or day outside in the sunshine; it was the final stage of a long and arduous undertaking. There was no carefree banter and chat. Every occupant at the keep realized how close the clan had come to extinction.
Only when Emer saw the east wing tower rising to greet her on the horizon and see the Maclachlan banner hanging from its turret did she truly believe it was at an end.
Aye, everything is now at an end. I can go back to Nethy and rebuild me life. Maybe I can ask Pastor Dougal’s help to start-up me own shop. I can make soaps and toilette waters and send them to Edinburgh for sale.
For Emer, her life had gone in a full circle. She had lost everything and thought her life was over. Then she believed she had found something unique and beautiful – but it had been an illusion created by her lonely heart. Now it was time to find out whether a good life was possible after loss and heartache. If someone had asked her that question one week ago, she would have stared at the person in amazement and shook her head. But there was something about staring death in the face that made a woman reassess her life.
The horses crossed the gateway. Only two men stood guard, and the rest of the staff seemed to have been given the day off. The outer courtyard and stable yard was thronging with happy clan and servants. Emer could not help herself from feeling impatience – she wanted to find out what had happened. She said as much to Gilby.
