The Raven's Wish (43 page)

"He says that the queen has ridden into the town to have midday dinner at the Lord Provost's house," Alasdair said.

"But she told me to come back today! She was going to inquire into the matter of Duncan's sentence. Alasdair—" she grabbed his arm. "He will be brought to the block today!"

Alasdair spoke to the clerk again, who answered, shrugged and then walked away, closing the door firmly.

"What can we do? This cannot be the end of it," Elspeth said. "It cannot."

Her cousin placed a hand on her shoulder. "We will go to the Provost's house. I asked the clerk where it is. Come ahead."

She followed, feeling suddenly exhausted. Walking alongside Alasdair, she had the odd sense that the brief walk back to the town was the coldest, longest journey she had ever taken.

As they approached High Street, she pulled on Alasdair's arm. "The scaffold has been set up in the church square—Duncan may be there—" she faltered, nearly stumbling. "I do not want to see that. I do not have the strength."

"Come on, now," Alasdair said. "We will try to see the queen again."

She nodded and walked on. She would beg Mary of Scotland for a pardon from the sentence of beheading. The rain splashed around her in a steady rhythm. Pulling up the edge of her plaid to cloak her head, she glanced at the muddy road ahead.

And stopped. Something hovered in the mist, as if it formed out of the fog and the rain. A shiver went through her, and she sucked in her breath sharply.

She saw a wooden platform, on which stood a tall, elegant woman gowned in black, with a cascading white veil. Mary Stewart, but older, more mature. Elspeth was unable to move as she watched the image shimmer in the air, and change like a dream, taking shape again.

Now the queen knelt in what appeared to be a red petticoat, and folded her hands in prayer. A woman wrapped her head and eyes in a white cloth. The queen stretched forward to lay her head on a wooden block.

Elspeth gasped and fell to her knees in cold mud. The sudden chill dispersed the odd haze that clouded her eyesight. The vision vanished. She raised a trembling hand to her brow.

"Ah,
Dhia
," she whispered, "this queen has such courage."

"She is a fine lady," Alasdair agreed. "What is wrong?"

She looked up at his kind, concerned face, a queen's man through to his heart, as was Duncan, as were her cousins. What she had seen lay far in the future. Warnings would not change it. Only the events of the queen's own life would shape this destiny. Some visions, after all, were better kept in silence. Elspeth sighed, and rose to her feet.

"Come ahead, Elspeth," Alasdair said. "Do not stop now. I have never known you to give up. Duncan needs you."

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Duncan would not have given up; he had not admitted defeat when she had been taken by Ruari MacDonald; he had always believed that he would find her and save her.

And she would not give up now. Her strength had faltered in the face of fear and dread, but she had seen a vision of true courage, of splendid resolve, a moment ago. She would not allow her own resolve to drain away from her. Mary Stewart's life destiny was in other hands than Elspeth Fraser's; but Duncan Macrae needed her.

This was not over, she told herself. He was still alive, and she loved him. Where there was love, there was always hope.

She walked on. Alasdair had to run a little to catch up.

* * *

The crowd was thin, Duncan thought, pulling the hood of his cloak forward over his brow. Cold rain and wind had discouraged the usual crush of spectators. He glanced around the square. Callum, Hugh and Ewan were milling through what crowd there was. They had left Robert neatly bound and gagged in his rented room only a few streets away from the church square where the scaffold had been built, and they had come here to wait for Kenneth to be brought forward.

Duncan breathed in the keen odor of fresh wood and looked at the newly built scaffold. A block of wood, old and scarred, dripping with rain, sat in the center. A bench for the officials had been placed at the back. The executioner's axe lay on the floorboards, covered with a cloth. Duncan could see the wicked edge of the blade. He flared his nostrils and turned away.

So an execution was planned today after all. They would have discovered Kenneth in the cell by now. Hob would have denied knowing anything, and probably faced severe punishment as the guard on duty at the time of the escape. If Kenneth had survived the knife wound that Robert had given him, he would not have been able to explain who he was or what had happened; he spoke no word of Scots.

Kenneth was alive, he was certain of it. By now, at least some of the Council members would be aware of the whole notorious mess, and would have decided to execute Kenneth in Duncan's place. The executioner would not have left his axe there if the beheading had been cancelled. Likely the headsman was somewhere nearby, Duncan thought; probably praying inside St. Giles. A heavy burden of sin, to take a man's life in cold judgment.

He walked away from the scaffold and passed by Hugh. "Go back and fetch Robert. I think they will bring Kenneth soon."

Hugh nodded and slipped away, beckoning to Ewan. Nearby, Callum looked at Duncan, nodded once and turned away.

Good men, these Frasers, Duncan thought, feeling a sudden, fierce wave of emotion rush through him; loyal and brave, the sort a man should always have at his back.

He glanced around the crowd and wondered again, as he had all morning, whether Elspeth would come to the square. Unaware of his escape as yet, she and Alasdair would think him close to his scheduled execution by now. Although he had wanted to find her, to hold her in his arms and flee the city with her by his side, he had purposefully sent no word to her yet. There had been no time last night, and Hugh had said that she planned to go to Holyroodhouse early to seek audience with the queen.

A wash of pure, stirring love filled him at the thought of Elspeth making that effort for him. The loyalty and tenacity of all these Frasers took his breath, touched him deep inside. Hardly sensing that he deserved such devotion, he intended to return the same a hundredfold if the need ever came.

And he knew the need was now. Kenneth's life was endangered because of him. As long as the lad was held, Duncan could not feel free. Best, then, that Elspeth knew nothing of his escape; he would not give her false hope. What he faced now would determine what fate truly had in mind for him.

He did not know what would happen here, but he felt it coming, as cold and real as the chill mist in the air. The plan he had in mind was the greatest risk he would ever take; yet it was the only way he could free Kenneth and clear his own name.

He hoped that Elspeth would be delayed at the palace. He would not want her to see this.

* * *

"I cannot go that way," Elspeth said. "The platform is there, in front of the church."

Alasdair gave her a gentle nudge. "There is no one on the scaffold, and the crowd blocks the view. We must go through there to the Provost's house. Just keep your head down and do not look."

Biting her lip and bowing her head, Elspeth walked onward. Someone jostled into her and she stepped aside and kept moving, seeing only feet, legs, cloaks, never looking up. She did not want to see the scaffold. She did not want to see the faces of the people who had come to watch Duncan die.

She neared the scaffold and moved onward, smelling the piney odor of the wood, hearing the gentle hiss of the rain on the cobblestones. Someone bumped into her again and she turned.

A pair of booted feet walked past her, a long black cloak, disappearing into the crowd. She walked on.

And turned back suddenly. She had seen those boots before, had worn them herself only days ago. On a quick intake of breath, she looked up and scanned the crowd. Strangers, unknown to her, a blur of faces in the rain—

And a tall man in a black cloak. She shoved forward through the crowd, hearing Alasdair's exclamation as he turned to find her gone. Dipping her shoulder, she edged between two large women. The tall man, cloaked head to foot, had his back to her. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew the rhythm of that walk, knew the set of those shoulders. Shoving forward again, she pushed through a gap with a desperate sob, and reached out.

She touched his back. He stopped suddenly, and a jolt went through her. He turned, and beneath the hood, Elspeth saw a flash of blue like a Highland sky.

"Duncan," she whispered. "Duncan."

"
Dhia!
" The word was soft as a prayer, but she knew he swore. He opened his arms and the cloak folded around her like the wide wings of a raven. She caught a sob in her throat and pressed against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body, circling her arms tightly around him under the cloak.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her cheek against his chest. "How is it you are free?"

"Hush," he said, and pulled her with him through the crowd, moving quickly. He drew her into an alley and ran with her to a dark corner. There, the wings of the cloak enveloped her again.

His lips met hers with a fierceness, a passion that she had thought taken from her life. She held onto him and opened her mouth and felt him there, on her lips, against her body, real and solid and hard, one hand on her back, the other smoothing along her jaw, tilting her face to his.

"Duncan," she breathed, "tell me what happened."

He kissed her again and laid his cheek against her hair. "Your cousins," he said. "They brought Robert, and freed me from the prison. But when we thought to leave Robert behind in my place to make his explanations, he tricked us in the dark. Kenneth was left instead. And now he will be brought to the block."

Her trembling knees nearly gave way beneath her. "Kenneth? They would not kill him!"

He pressed her closer. She felt the rasp of his beard on her brow. "They would,
mo càran
. But there is a way to stop it." He drew back and looked at her. "I want you to go back to my rooms. Stay there until someone comes for you."

"I will not leave you," she said.

"Elspeth—"

She scowled up at him. "I will not. Now that you are free, I will not let you out of my sight."

He sighed. "Then you will have to be very strong, girl, if you will stay. I do not know what will happen."

"I am strong. When you are with me, I am."

He gave her a curious look, a dazzle of blue touched with darkness. She felt chilled by that glance, and stepped back. He smiled, and touched a finger to her chin. "You have a fine will in you, like hard steel. Rely on that now. Promise me."

"I promise." The chill spiralled down to her feet. "But Duncan, you are free. The vision was wrong."

"My girl," he murmured only, and there was deep love in it. He took her hand and walked back to the square.

The rain had lessened, and cold fog had settled in to obscure the castle rock above the town, veiling the church, the empty platform, and the crowd in a gray murk. Within moments Duncan found Alasdair and the rest of her cousins, and murmured to them in quick, hushed tones.

Duncan came to Elspeth and took her hand in his, warm and strong, holding it beneath the cover of his cloak. Hugh and Callum ran off through the crowd and left the square. Ewan faded into the crowd, and Alasdair stood near her.

"They will not bring Kenneth," Elspeth said. "It is past the noon hour now."

"There." Duncan put his arm around Elspeth. "Walking down the slope from the castle. The mist hid them until now."

Several guards and two black-robed officials advanced along the High Street. Elspeth raised up on her toes, straining to see the party as it entered the church square. Kenneth, the tallest man in the center of the group, was dressed in his Highland wrapped plaid and torn linen shirt. His long hair, braided like dark ropes, swung about his face and shoulders. As they came closer, Elspeth gasped as she saw the deep bruises on his temple and cheek, and blood stains at his shoulder.

But he walked tall and straight between the guards, his face a weary, set mask of pride and courage. The party divided the hushed crowd as they passed through the square. Beside Elspeth, Duncan pulled his hood lower and stepped back.

The guards and officials mounted the platform with the prisoner. Elspeth watched as they forced Kenneth to kneel on the pine boards. From the church behind them, two men dressed in black emerged, a kirk minister and the executioner, who wore an errie black mask over his upper face. They joined the others on the platform, and spoke in low voices to the two robed officials who had come down from the castle. There seemed to be some confusion among them, gestures and arguing, but at last they seemed to agree, and turned toward the crowd.

Elspeth did not understand the words, but knew that one of them spoke a pronouncement of guilt. Alasdair muttered to her that they claimed that Kenneth had forfeited his life by helping a condemned man to escape. The minister uttered some prayers on Kenneth's behalf, and read a passage from the Bible.

She glanced at Duncan, who had turned away to scan the crowd with a furrowed glance. Then she noticed that one of the officials held up a white cloth, meaning to tie it around Kenneth's head. The executioner stepped forward.

"Stop them," she said, turning to Duncan. "Please stop them. There must be something we can do!" She laid her hand on his chest, and felt his pounding heart.

He bent down to her. "Elspeth," he said softly. "Know that I love you always. Never doubt it. Never forget it."

She looked at him in confusion as he laid his hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Then he let go and stepped away, nodding to Alasdair. The wings of his black cloak swept wide through the crowd as he strode forward.

Elspeth moved to follow him, but Alasdair put up an arm to hold her back. She pushed in sudden fright when she saw Duncan approach the platform.

"My Lords," he called out. "I am Duncan Macrae, the man you want. Let this lad go."

Chapter 26