The Raven's Wish (40 page)

An hour earlier, Alasdair had used a few coins to convince Duncan's house servant to admit Macrae's wife and depart himself. Then Elspeth had closed the door to Duncan's bedchamber and set about going through his cupboards. She had found a silk shirt, black trews and a padded black doublet, a black bonnet and the long cloak.

Trying on the clothing, she had paused once to hold the silk shirt to her face, breathing in the ghost of Duncan's own scent. A subtle trace of leather and spices, blended with an elusive drift of maleness, made her catch her breath. She had held in a sob, swallowing it, refusing to allow herself to break. Not yet, she had repeated to herself, not yet.

No matter that the garments were too large. Tucking and pulling, tying and rolling, she achieved a semblance of fit. She found a pair of black leather soft-cuffed boots, too large, and stuffed them with silk torn from the shirt to fit her feet. Tucking her red-gold hair up under the bonnet, letting some strands hang down, she had stepped into the outer room.

Now, as her cousins perused her critically, she waited for their pronouncement. Standing as tall as she could, she looked at them with a sour, pinched expression.

Kenneth suddenly burst out laughing, followed by Ewan and then Callum. Elspeth grimaced in a way that only Robert would do, and rolled her eyes disdainfully. Hugh smiled.

Alasdair shook his head. "We have somber troubles, and the girl takes to jesting."

"This is no jest," she said. "I mean to get into the dungeon this way."

"Well, you have no hope of getting in any other way," he replied. "This folly may get you thrown into the cell beside your man."

"A fine idea," she said firmly.

"We had better go at dark, if we can," Hugh said. "She looks like him in her coloring and slight size, but she would not fool too many for long. We must hurry her through somehow."

"I will—" she began.

"Elspeth," Alasdair said, "do not speak. You make Robert sound like a girl."

* * *

"Master Robert Gordon to see the prisoner Macrae of Dulsie," Alasdair said. His tone was so authoritative that Elspeth felt a wave of admiration. Keeping the hood of her cloak over her head, she nodded perfunctorily at the guard. He glanced up briefly as she passed through the dark doorway. Behind her, the Frasers and Alasdair were suddenly detained.

She had not expected that. Heart beating rapidly, she resisted the urge to look back at them. Another guard approached her, a burly man in steel and leather, carrying a sputtering torch. She followed him along the narrow rough-stone passageway, trying to lope in the manner of her half-brother.

"Yer back again, are ye, Master?" the guard asked. His tone was sly, but Elspeth did not know what he had asked.

She grunted. He did too.

They came to a wooden door, reinforced with iron bands. The guard fitted a large key into the lock. "Duncan Macrae of Dulsie," he called out.

The door screeched open, and the guard stood back. She cast him a nervous glance, and stepped into the blackness.

And fell through the dense shadows, smacking hard on her knees against cold stone. The floor of the cell, she realized, was well below the corridor level. Robert would have known that.

"Oof," she said, sitting up. "
Ach
."

"Would ye like a light, there, Master Gordon?" the guard asked.

"What in the name of—Hob!" Duncan called. "Leave that torch!" Hearing his voice in the dark, Elspeth's heart began to hammer. Then she heard an odd sound, scraping and clinking, as he came nearer. She noticed, too, that the air was redolent with unpleasant odors emanating from old straw and slimy walls.

The door creaked again, and Elspeth looked up. An amber glow filled the small cell as the guard bent down to hand her the torch. She got to her feet and reached up for the light.

"Jesu," Hob said. "A wee lassie, is it?"

"My wife," Duncan drawled. "
Mo céile
," he translated, for her benefit. She nodded hesitantly and looked at the guard.

"Jesu," Hob said again. Grinning, he handed her the torch.

"Thank you, Hob," Duncan said. When the door squealed shut, he stepped forward into the light.

Elspeth gasped. He was dark and gaunt, long hair to his shoulders, his beard black, his eyes shadowed. Around his wrists and ankles hung heavy iron bands with attached chains. Despite his shocking appearance, he stood tall and proud, gazing at her with a deep frown.

"Duncan," she breathed.

He remained motionless. "What are you doing here?"

She stepped forward. "I knew you were here, I felt it, and had to come. My cousins are with me. What can we do to help?"

"You can leave," he said, turning away. "I have no need of your help."

Elspeth stood there, holding the torch, watching his back, wide and muscled beneath the thin shirt he wore. She came forward and placed one hand on his shoulder. He tensed, and in that instant, she felt his strength, and his misery as well.

Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to hold him again, feel his arms around her, his warmth, his solidness. But he had put up a cold wall between them, invisible and real. That shield hurt her deeply, a wrenching ache; she feared that he truly hated her for predicting his death. She felt, in her own misery, as if she had led him to it.

"Ah, Duncan," she murmured. "I know you are angry with me. I am the one who brought you to this. I am sorry." She choked back a sob. "I will do whatever I can to get you pardoned. I will appeal to the Council."

Duncan was silent. She felt the tension in his muscles. "There is nothing you can do," he finally said. He drew a deep breath. "Go away from here, and do not come back."

"Ah,
Dhia
," she said. "Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, girl," he said softly.

"Hold me," she whispered.

"I cannot," he said. "I am chained."

Gasping back tears, she leaned her head into his back, circling one arm around his waist.

She heard a gruff sound, and he turned. His hands, restricted in the iron cuffs, grabbed around her waist through the thick cloak and overlarge doublet. She balanced the torch and held onto him, her body trembling suddenly.

"I am sorry," she said. "So sorry. The vision—"

"Hush you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You have done nothing. This is between me and your half-brother."

"What do you mean?"

"Pay it no mind," he said. "Only go. You endanger yourself and your cousins by visiting a condemned man." His beard brushed her forehead.

"I will appeal to the Council. Alasdair will help me. Tell me what to do. Please."

He sighed. "Stubborn girl. Listen to me. Do not talk to anyone but Moray and Maitland. If the other members of the Council learn the Frasers are here, they may have your cousins up on charges as well for breaking the queen's peace."

"Moray and Maitland," she said. "Where do I find them?"

"They are both away from Edinburgh," he said. "My cousin Hob has smuggled out messages for me. That is the most that can be done now." He pushed her gently from him. "Go, now."

"Do not send me away."

"Elspeth." His voice swept over her like dark velvet, soft and deep and comforting. "
Mo càran
. You look like an angel come down from heaven into this piece of hell." He stepped back into the shadows, ankle chains dragging. "Leave now."

She hesitated. "Wait—" she began to tug at her well-padded doublet, and pulled out a loaf of bread, then another, a wrapped cheese, and a flask. Holding the torch, she set the food on the floor. "Alasdair said you would need food. And this—" she tugged again, and pulled out a heavy bag of coins. "We found it in your cupboard," she confessed.

Duncan nodded. "That will buy some handsome bribes."

"You will need these—" Bouncing around, she pulled off the boots. "They are yours. And take the cloak against the cold." She undid the cloak and tossed it to him. "We have been in your rooms."

"I see. Whatever is there is yours, Elspeth."

"I will bring clean clothes and more food."

His steady gaze burned, like blue fire. "Do not come back. It would not be safe for you." He turned away abruptly.

"The day I had that cursed vision, I told you that your death would be mine. I know what that means now," she said. "I cannot bear it if you are not with me." The words echoed across the cold chamber.

"You will survive this," he said. "You are strong."

"You are my
anam
, Duncan. My soul."

"You will live," he said firmly. "Remember the child in your vision." He looked over his shoulder. "Are you—"

She drew in her breath on a shaking sob. "I do not yet know," she said. "It may be."

"Go," he said then. "Go now, or break my heart."

Chapter 24

There is a fancy in my head

That I'll reveal to thee,

And your assistance I will crave

If ye will grant it me.

~"The Twa Knights"

Climbing out of the dark cell, Elspeth handed the torch to Hob. He shut and locked the door, and Elspeth turned back to lay her hand against the door, pressing her forehead to the rough wood. Her breath came in a shallow rhythm. She felt numb, suspended in a dark void without emotion or sensation. She was afraid to feel, knowing how much it would hurt when she did.

Hob set a large, gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and followed him down the corridor. In her stockinged feet and without the cloak, the stone passageway was chilly and damp. But she did not care; she hardly felt the discomfort.

Hob approached the guard who had admitted her, thinking her to be Robert Gordon. The man gave her a startled glance, but Hob murmured something that made him laugh softly.

She walked outside, to where Alasdair and the others waited in the dark courtyard. Kenneth rushed to her, taking her arm. Behind her, she heard Hob speak in hushed Scots to Alasdair and Hugh. When she turned, Hob gave her a kind nod before going back inside the bleak prison corridor.

"The man is Duncan's cousin," Alasdair said, coming near.

She nodded. "He wants us to meet with him in a tavern tomorrow," Alasdair continued. "And he spoke of you, Elspeth."

She frowned at him. "What did he say?"

"He wants you to know that you remind him of a young woman whom he much admires, a very great and beautiful lady who also dresses in men's black hose and doublet from time to time. But she does it for amusement, and what you do here is no game. He understands your wish to save your husband's life, and he will do what he can to help you."

She nodded. "Who is the lady he mentioned?"

"Mary the Queen."

* * *

Elspeth sat and waited as her cousins finished an early midday dinner of meat pies, bought in a town shop. She had eaten some bread, light and fine-textured, unlike any she had ever tasted, and had taken a little watered wine, but her churning stomach could not tolerate meat. A subtle, draining lethargy suffused her body, and she had little appetite. At first she had thought this was due to her overwhelming distress, but she knew that the child—she was certain of it now, though she had not mentioned to her cousins—could sap strength in the beginning.

She had slept much of the morning, having agreed to wait in Duncan's rooms while her cousins had gone out to meet with Hob Kerr. Alasdair had said that a woman dressed as a Highlander in public would only attract attention to them. Now she was impatient to know what had gone on during their meeting.

Alasdair swallowed the last of his meal and wiped his hands on his plaid. "Hob does not know if Duncan will gain the pardon he wants," he said. "He has smuggled out two letters for Duncan, to the secretary Maitland and to the Earl of Moray. But both men are away. Moray is at Stirling, not far from here, but Maitland, who knows Duncan best, is in England. Hob does not know if the letters will reach them before the date of the execution. And who knows what either man will decide to do upon receiving word."

She drew in her breath. "Has the date been set?"

Alasdair exchanged a quick glance with her cousins. "Two days from now," he said.

She leaned her forehead onto her hand. "We must do something. Duncan said an appeal would go nowhere, and might endanger your lives as well as his. But we must try—"

"Hob agreed with what Duncan told you. There is a rumor that the Council members have declared that any Frasers who appeal Macrae's case will be subject to imprisonment themselves." Alasdair frowned. "I know what I will do. Robert Gordon is in Edinburgh somewhere, and I will find the man. He needs to explain himself to you and to us, I think."

Elspeth nodded. "Find Robert, then. And what does Hob suggest we do?"

"He says that there is one who might listen to us. He says that you, Elspeth, should go to the palace of Holyroodhouse. If you can get an audience, Mary the Queen might be sympathetic."

Elspeth stared at him. "The Queen?"

"Remember when I met her last year at Inverness?" Hugh asked Elspeth. "She liked me well. She will remember me and my Fraser Highlanders, I think. I will go with you."