Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (21 page)

He is lying, why can’t they see that?
Cailin could not believe the way Thomas had twisted the events of that day. Judging by the way the tribunal members were looking at her, they were buying his story.

Ormsby cocked his head. “Can you confirm what he says, Lord Borden?”

“I can, my lord. We found Thomas tied to a tree and the lump on his head was as he described. Harold’s lifeless body lay on the riverbank. There is no way a lady of her size could subdue two of England’s finest warriors without the use of magic and treachery. She is a witch and carries the spawn of Satan in her belly.”

“Was the lady present when you arrived at the scene of the murder, Lord Borden?”

“No, she had already run off, but Thomas was able to identify her.”

“I see.” Ormsby scrubbed his hand cross his chin, then turned to face Cailin. “What say you, my lady? These are serious charges.”

“He lies. I was attacked, and they sought to violate me. They would have succeeded if not for—” She stopped before implicating Connor in the deed. He was not alive to defend himself, and she’d not have his name dragged through the mud. Nor would she see him labeled a murderer when he was in fact her hero. If she thought they would spare her child, she might consider heralding his heroic deed and pleading his case, but something in her gut told her no matter what she said, she’d already been tried and convicted. The tribunal meant to make an example of her.

“They’d have succeeded in ravaging you if not for whom? Was there an accomplice involved in the murder? Speak his name, and we may show you leniency.” Ormsby pressed her for answers. “If you are found guilty of witchcraft in addition to murder, the punishment will be more severe. Purification by pain and death by fire are what you face if you continue to defy this court.”

Leniency?
If this whole situation hadn’t been so tragic, she’d have laughed aloud. The only mercy she’d be shown was perhaps a quick death by hanging rather than torture. Cailin lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Nay, there was no one else involved.”

After a brief consultation with the others sitting in judgment, Ormsby announced their decision. “Lady Cailin Macmillan, we have no choice but to find you guilty. If you confess your sins and admit to using sorcery, we will hang you outright. If you continue to deny your guilt, you will be tried as a witch, and I can assure you the punishment will fit the crime.”

“I am innocent,” Cailin muttered softly.

“I will give you one last chance to declare your guilt and purge yourself of your sins. Do not make me force a confession.” Ormsby moved to where Cailin stood, stopping a few inches away. He leaned in close and spoke so only she could hear. “Come, my lady, surely you would rather have your life end quickly. I have no desire to see you tortured, then burned alive. Confess your sins, admit to using witchcraft, and I will ask the tribunal for mercy. Edward has demanded you pay for the murder of his soldier with your life, but there is no need for you to die in agony. Think about your child.”

Cailin remained silent. She was thinking about her child and refused to confess to crimes she did not commit. She would go to her grave knowing she had not crumbled under the persecution of the English bureaucracy and tyranny. King Edward could go to Hell. Borden, and all those who judged her unfairly, could join him. If she were a witch, she’d condemn them to burn for all eternity.

An angry scowl crossed Ormsby’s face. “Since you refuse to confess your sins, you leave us no choice but to see you purged of them. On the morrow, the first part of your sentence will be carried out in the form of a public flogging. One week hence, if you still refuse to confess your sins, you will hang by the neck until you are dead, your eviscerated body burned, and your ashes scattered to the wind. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Thunderstruck by the sentence, she wobbled on her feet, but refused to beg for mercy.

“Lord Borden. See the prisoner back to her chamber in the tower. I leave on the morrow for Edinburgh and trust you to handle things accordingly. Carry out her sentence, and to the letter. Edward will not take it kindly if you mess up again,” Ormsby informed him bluntly.

Borden stepped forward and bowed. “I will see to it personally, my lord.” As the members of the tribunal left the courtroom, an evil scowl crossed his face. Turning on his heels and with a snap of his fingers, he summoned two guards from the group of soldiers standing by the door. “Lewis, Smith, take her to the dungeon.”

“The dungeon, my lord?” Lewis asked. “But Lord Ormsby said to take her to her chamber.”

“You heard me. If you wish to question my orders, perhaps you’d care to join her.” Borden handed Smith a key. “She is to be kept in the iron cage until further notice.”

The guards led her out of the courtroom. She offered no resistance. There didn’t seem to be any point to it. She was greatly outnumbered, and no one lifted a hand to help her or offered up a kind word in her defense. She would not grovel, and she would not be dragged from the hall kicking and screaming. With her chin held high, she kept pace with her jailers and did not say a word.

On the way to the dungeon, villagers lined the path, shouting obscenities, and calling for her execution. Ignoring the cruel words and the sting of the rotten fruit, vegetables, and eggs they tossed, she held her head high.

The guards escorted her to the back of the castle, stopping at the entrance to a dark tunnel. Lewis held her by the arm while Smith lit a torch. Her senses were immediately assaulted by the stench of human excrement, mold, and death. Cailin stared down a steep, narrow staircase. “You cannot mean to take me into that horrible place.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but this is to be your home until your execution is carried out.” Lewis placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her to move forward.

Cailin stiffened her spine, asked the Almighty for strength, and stepped through the gateway to Hell.

The leather thongs binding her to the hitching post cut off the circulation to her wrists. Struggling only made them tighter. She drew in a ragged breath, steeling herself for the first part of her sentence—a flogging meant to purge her of her sins and to make her beg for mercy. Exhausted from lack of sleep and weakened by the absence of food and drinkable water, she lowered her head, resting it on her arms. Even though the sun had yet to rise above the horizon, curious onlookers filled the bailey.

The cheers and shouts of the villagers when Borden descended the stairs of the castle made her stomach sink. She shivered in the cold morning air, her teeth chattering. When she exhaled, she could see her own breath. Frost covered the ground, bushes, and castle walls. The guards had removed her gown before bringing her from the dungeon. She wore only her kirtle and was exposed to the elements, and for all to see.

“You seem to have drawn quite a crowd, my lady,” Borden said as he crossed the bailey, stopping only a few feet away. “Nothing starts the day off like a public flogging, don’t you think, John?” He turned to face the man that accompanied him and slapped him on the back.

She glanced up at a tall burly man dressed in black and brandishing a whip. Fear gripped her heart and she closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again this would all be a horrible nightmare. She counted to ten and slowly raised her lashes, but they were still there.

“Let it be known that Lady Cailin Macmillan has been tried and found guilty of murder, treason, and witchcraft. As part of her sentence, the tribunal ordered a minimum of twenty lashes. Should she confess her sins and beg for mercy, the flogging will cease. If she does not repent, the full sentence will be carried out.” Borden turned to the man in black. “Begin the punishment.”

Silence fell over the crowd—her own breathing and the thunder of her heart the only sounds she could hear. She sucked in a ragged breath and prayed for the strength to endure the pain and humiliation, prayed she would not break down and beg for mercy.

The sudden displacement of air and crack of the whip caused her to jump. She ground her teeth when the sting of leather connected with her flesh, refusing to call out or surrender to the pain. The second and third strokes of the whip bit with equal intensity, and her world began to spin. Lost in a dark abyss, she did not feel the rest of the beating. She didn’t feel her body slump to the ground when the guards released from the hitching post. She wasn’t aware that they’d returned her to the dungeon.

A soft pitiful moan left her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. Immersed in total darkness, she wondered if she had slept the day away—a blessing, given the fiery pain radiating across her back. Cailin shifted her position, but with her hands and feet bound she could not get comfortable. She lay on the cold damp floor, thankful the guards had the decency to put on her gown. The babe? Fear washed over her as she waited, and prayed, for him to move.

It seemed like forever until a tiny foot pressed against her ribs, a kick, and then another, stronger than the first. She heaved a sigh of relief. For now, the babe remained unharmed. She tried again to shift her position, but pain and exhaustion won out, and she closed her eyes.

A well-placed blow to the back of the head rendered the guard unconscious. Connor glanced nervously over his shoulder, surprised that there was only one man watching over the prisoners. Obviously, Borden did not expect another rescue attempt. Then again, everyone believed he was dead, and he would have been had his brothers and Cameron not come along when they did. Despite his grave injuries, he had refused to die, not while Cailin needed him. By the grace of God, her execution had been delayed long enough to give him time to recover.

He grabbed the ring of keys that hung on a chain around the guard’s neck, and fumbled with the lock until he heard it click. The oak door opened with a loud groan. As he stepped inside, the putrid stench of urine, feces, mold, and rotting flesh assaulted his senses. His stomach heaved. Choking back the urge to vomit, he moved with stealth into the center of cold, dank dungeon. Except for the occasional squeal of rats as they battled for scraps of food, an eerie silence shrouded the room.

I swear by all that is holy, if Borden has seen fit to keep Cailin in this hellhole, I will castrate the bugger.

He narrowed his eyes, straining to see into darkness. Thin ribbons of sunlight filtered through the bars of the lone casement window, revealing sights best left in the shadows. In his worst nightmare, he couldn’t have conjured up a more deplorable place.

In one corner stood a large wooden rack, used to stretch and break a man until he confessed his sins, or died in agony. On a table in the other corner of the room were thumbscrews, knives, a barbed whip, and other assorted instruments of torture. There were stocks in which to administer beatings and a spiked iron cage hung from the rafters. Chains and shackles lined the walls—some of which still held the rotting remains of those who had succumbed to Borden’s sadistic persecution.

A soft whimper broke the unearthly silence. Connor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and an iron cage. His throat tightened and his heart clenched when he saw someone curled in a fetal position on the stone floor. As he drew near and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, reality hit him like a blow to the gut. It was Cailin.

Frantically, he searched for something with which to gain access to her. He glanced down at the ring of keys clutched in his hand and tried each one until the lock gave way and the rusty door swung open. He crawled into the cage, knelt beside her, and spoke her name. She did not reply.

While it was difficult to assess her injuries in the dim light, he could see that her feet were bare and she wore nothing more than a flimsy gown. When he drew his dirk from its sheath and cut through the leather straps binding her wrists and ankles, she curled up in a ball, whimpering in pain.

Connor’s hand trembled as he gently stroked it down her back. She recoiled from his touch and the soft plaintiff moan that left her lips tore his heart in two. “Och, lass, what have those bastards done to you?” His gut churned with worry. “Can you hear me,
liuadhe
?”

Cailin’s lashes fluttered, and her heavy lidded eyes slowly opened. “A-aye, Connor. Your voice is as sweet to my ears as that of an angel. Have I already died and gone to Heaven?” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Nay, this cannot be Heaven. I’m so cold and thirsty...”

He quickly scanned the room for something to quench her thirst. A bucket of stagnant water sat a few feet from the cage. Even if she had been desperate enough to drink the vial liquid, the ladle was out of reach. Snatching the wineskin from his side, he raised her head, and brought the flask to her lips. She drank greedily. “Sip it slowly. If you drink too fast, it will make you ill.” He carefully lowered her head until it lay on his lap. “Rest a minute, and then I’ll give you a wee bit more.”

“Connor,” she muttered softly.

“I’m here, my love. Dinna try to speak. You must save your strength.”

“This cannot be real.” A frown creased her brow as she looked up at him. “Lieutenant Williams ran you through with his sword, and the arrow pierced your chest. I saw you die.”

“Aye, they wounded me, but I am very much alive. Longshanks’s needs to train his officers better than he has. The blow was enough to stop me, but not enough to kill me. Besides, I refused to die, knowing they held you captive.” Tears rolled down his cheek. In his entire life, he could never remember crying. Not even at his father’s funeral. “I would have come for you sooner, but it took time for me to recover enough strength to sit a horse. For that, I am truly sorry.”

With a shaky hand, she touched his damp cheek. “On the morrow, they will hang me. Weep not, for I welcome the thought of death if it means joining you in Heaven. My only regret is that I’ve let you down.”

“Shh, you have no reason to apologize.” He brushed the hair from her forehead with a sweep of his hand. “And you could never let me down.”

“You trusted me with your bairn, and on the morrow, he dies with me. He will not live to carry on your legacy, hear the stories of your bravery, or know the wonderful man who was his sire.”

“The bairn?” Connor slid his hand over rounded belly. “You’re still with child? How could this be, after all you’ve suffered?”

“Aye. Your bairn grows in my womb.” Her eyes drifted shut and she drew in a ragged breath. Her entire body trembled.

“Cailin, look at me.”

“Nay. When I close my eyes, I see you come out of the darkness, out of my dreams. You take me in your arms, and I feel safe, and warm. It is a wonderful dream, and I dinna want to wake up.”

He brushed his hand over her fevered brow. “I’m here,
liuadhe.
How can I convince you that I am flesh and blood? That I am not a dream?”

“On the morrow, they will hang me, and we will be together.”

He placed his finger over her lips to silence her. “Nay. You will not die on the morrow. I’ll get you out of here and take you home to my castle near Inverness, where you’ll heal, and we’ll live out the rest of our days in peace and happiness. You’re going to live to see our bairn born. I promise. Bryce and Alasdair wait outside the castle walls, and will aid us in our escape.”

“You
haiver
so, m’lord.” Her voice was but a whisper. “Even if you were to get me out of here, I do not have the strength to walk or sit a horse. I would only slow you down. Please, leave me here to face my fate.”

“My life would be empty and meaningless without you.” Gently he lifted her and cradled her in his arms.

“You’re a
thrawn
man, Connor Fraser.” Her head dropped against his chest, and she fell silent.

“You are the stubborn one, my love, and saints be praised you are. What you have endured would have destroyed the bravest warrior.”

He carried Cailin across the room, paused at the door, and peered into the hallway. The guard lay motionless in a heap on the floor. So far, no one had come to relieve him of his duty. They were too busy preparing the gallows and celebrating the upcoming hanging. It never ceased to amaze him how the English reveled in the torture and death of another.

Alasdair stood at the top of the stairs, awaiting his brother’s return. “Hurry, Connor, we must be away. The guard will be changing soon.” He kept his voice low and motioned with a sweep of his arm.

“Where is Bryce?” Connor climbed the stone staircase with her protectively cradled in his arms.

“He waits with the horses in the copse of trees beyond the postern gate.” He held his arms out in his brother’s direction. “Give me the lass. You are still weak from your injuries.”

“Nay, I’ll carry her. She weighs no more than a feather. I swear the bastards have not fed her in weeks.” He shifted Cailin’s limp body in his arms and followed his brother through a doorway leading to a narrow path behind the castle wall.

“Connor, Alasdair, make haste.” Bryce sat atop his horse and motioned for the two men to join him. His eyes immediately fell on Cailin, his expression grim. He quickly crossed himself. “Is she dead?”

“Nay, but she’s injured and as weak as a newly born colt.” He brushed her forehead with a kiss, shifted her in his arms, and prepared to hand her over to his brother. “I want you to see her safely away. Alasdair and I will stay behind and confront anyone who dares to follow.”

Bryce waved his brother off. “You’re still recovering from your injuries. It makes more sense for Alasdair and I to remain behind. Cailin is your betrothed, and she carries your bairn. You should be the one to see to the lass.”

Connor shook his head. “Nay. I need you to do this for me, brother. She was arrested because I failed to protect her. It is my responsibility to see that no one gives chase. You’ll not sway me on this.”

Bryce quickly slid from the saddle and led Thor forward. “We dinna have time to argue. Cailin is in need of a healer, and you’re still too weak to fight.”

Alasdair lumbered toward them. “Bryce is right. If I want to get out of this alive, I need a strong man at my back. Now, mount the damned horse. Your stubbornness is putting us all in danger.”

Cailin opened her eyes and raised her head. “Please, Connor, I want to stay with you.”

Tears dampened her ashen cheeks and he heard the tremor of fear in her voice. His heart clenched when she grimaced in pain. “Dinna
fash
yourself,
liuadhe.
I’ll see you safe.” Her eyes closed and her head dropped back, resting in the crook of his arm.

Connor looked up at his brothers. “I’ll cross the border into Scotland and take her to Buccleuch. Michael Scott will offer us shelter.”

“It’s about time you came to your senses. Give me the lass.” Alasdair held Cailin while Connor mounted Thor, and then placed her in his arms.

“Be careful brothers, and watch each other’s back.”

“We will, and God speed.” With that, Bryce slapped Thor’s rump, and the horse lunged forward.