Page 36 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Chapter Fourteen

Bruce struggled against his restraints. Pain stabbed the small of his back where his old wound had opened, and along his chest where the sword of one of the brigands had sliced him. They had tied him to his horse and tied the reins with another horse’s saddle.

To fight had been a foolish impulse. He should have tried to get away with Elspeth. But she had been captured as well.

Ye deserve to be in this mess,he thought. Ye were so focused on Elspeth and yer foolish kiss last night that ye let yer guard down. Now we’ve been captured, and it willnae be long until they figure out who I am and sell me off to the English. I’ll be hanging before sundown.

The regret of not reaching Falkirk and discovering the Honors fueled his rage. The English harried and blocked his efforts at every turn. What was the point of existing under such scrutiny, such limitations, and bounds? The Honors had been the answer to many a Scotsman’s prayers. They would be lost forever now. Unless…

The papers with the illustrations and the map were still in his cloth bag. If they fell into the wrong hands, Bruce hoped they would be indecipherable. It would be a tragedy beyond words if the Honors the Bishop of Orkney had kept secret all these years were to be discovered and apprehended by the English. How would he face him in the afterlife?

They crossed a thicket of trees, and Bruce realized where they were headed. Balquhidder Castle loomed ahead, it’s dark spires like crow’s feet, clawing at the sky. Bruce’s blood boiled. Leo had been right all along. Lair Labert was his enemy. Any Laird worth his salt had spies in the surrounding region. One of them must have been at the inn last night. Elspeth had exposed them with her dramatic outburst. Laird Labert had been alerted, and here they were - tied up, bleeding, and headed toward their deaths.

It was more than he could bear. Bruce was not afraid of dying. As a boy he had imagined his death in the nights when sleep eluded him. He had always been the heroic martyr, giving up his life to gain Scotland that final victory in battle that forever ousted its enemies. This death was ignoble, crass, and unlike anything he had ever wanted for himself.

He had no fear for himself. All of his concern was for Elspeth. She had come to help him in his time of need, not because she was passionate about the honors or restoring the rightful king of Scotland, but because she had heard of an injured man who needed mending, and she had fearlessly joined the quest to do whatever she could.

And it had led her to the gallows. Her blood would be on his hands. Why hadn’t he sent her back home earlier? Because he had become dependent on her, he couldn't stand the thought of her being away from him.

Once they entered the courtyard he saw the men dismount around him and let their hoods down. He recognized Laird Labert’s men now that their faces were clearly visible. These were men he had played with, tasted his first ale with, jousted with, and made merry every year at the spring festival.

Now they were sinister enemies, carrying daggers under their cloaks. Two men began to untie him. He watched them uncover the cart carrying Elspeth and dragging her out. Bruce growled for them to stop, but his mouth was gagged.

Finally free of his restraints, Bruce made to lunge at his captors, but the tear in his back made any movement agony. He was dragged off his horse and frog-marched behind Elspeth. They were taken into the main hall where they had attended many feasts in the past. It was ironic that it would now be a place of torture, pain, and death.

They didn’t have to wait long before Laird Labert marched into the room, his courtiers behind him. He looked regal in a claret-red robe, embroidered with gold thread. Then again, Laird Labert had always carried himself with a regal air. The sneer on his face was new, or had Bruce never noticed it before? In his youth, Laird Labert had been a thin but tall man, with a thick blonde beard and genial smile. Now he looked a vulture in Laird’s clothes to Bruce, ready to peck his enemy’s eyes out.

Bruce could control himself no longer. He raised his bound hands streaked with blood and ripped the gag out of his mouth.

“Traitor!” Bruce roared.

Laird Labert came to a halt. His cool gaze rested on Bruce as if he were some rare species brought to his hall for entertainment.

“Ye treacherous swine!” Bruce continued, trying to wrest his shoulders out of the hands of his captives. “How much did the English pay ye to betray yer people? My father trusted ye like a brother, and this is how ye repay him? Ye will be remembered as the man who sold Scotland’s honor for a few shiny baubles. Judas!”

Laird Labert sneered at the insults. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by Bruce’s tirades. It took a special kind of man to betray his country and still sleep like a baby at night.

“I expect the dungeons are ready for me,” Bruce said. “And I shall go there freely if ye send Elspeth back to her brother. She had nae part in my escape. The English would want naught from her. Keep her out of this, and ye can have me as a prize.”

Elspeth moaned beside him, tears leaking from her eyes. It killed him to see her so. “Unbind her!” Bruce roared at the men who held her.

“Aye, indeed.” Laird Labert said lazily. “Unbind Lady Elspeth or Laird Grant will start abusing me some more. And why in God’s name is she tied in the first place?”

“She bit me!” One of the men lifted his arm. Indeed, there was an angry looking bite mark there. Elspeth had drawn blood.

“Whatever for?” Laird Labert asked. “Eric, did ye nae tell them why ye were collecting them?”

“They didnae give us a chance!” Eric explained. “Lady Elspeth ran off, and Laird Grant attacked us. Brian here has a welt the size o’ Dundee on his back. We had nae choice but to restrain them.”

“This is a mess.” Laird Labert shook his head. “Elspeth, I apologize for yer treatment. Please, come sit. Creed, send for Master Faraday. Tell him to bring a salve for Lady Elspeth and Laird Grant’s injuries.”

Elspeth didn’t move from her spot. She was staring at Laird Labert with the same intense dislike as Bruce felt.

“Donnae try to poison her with yer betrayal,” Bruce hissed. “Yer a traitor, and I wouldnae trust ye as far as I could throw ye. Ye wanted me, ye got me. Let her go.”

“See, that’s where yer wrong, lad,” Laird Labert smiled disparagingly. “I didnae want ye. I didnae even ken ye were near Balquhidder. My lads were out looking for Lady Elspeth.”

Bruce swallowed the tirade of words that had been sitting at the tip of his tongue. Laird Labert had been looking for Elspeth. Why? Was this a trick?