A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1) (19 page)

Footfalls of more than one person grew louder. Four heavily
armed guards dressed in MacKenzie colors approached the cell. One held a torch
high so another could find a large key on a chain containing several of similar
size and shape. On finding the key, he thrust it into the lock and opened the
cell door. Colin turned to Andrew, looking at his chief with wide, fearful
eyes. Both realized they would soon be facing the enemy’s torture, or worse.
One of the guards grabbed Andrew’s arms and wrested them behind his back.
Andrew tried to resist, but had little strength for fighting. The other guard
bound his wrists with sturdy rope that seemed to cut to the bone. Two did the
same to Colin. The young lad put up no resistance.

Andrew turned to the
gille
and forced a faint smile. “Take
heart, lad. Remember, God awaits us in heaven.”

Chapter Sixteen

The guards stepped back, one motioned
for the two men to come out of the cell. The men turned up their noses at the
smell of the two prisoners. Two walked well in front and the others a good
distance in back of the foul-smelling men. Andrew took note of the leader’s
weapons, planning in his mind a way to take them. The band made their way down
a gloomy passage lined with other cells reeking of filth, across a large
chamber with implements of torture, and up a dark narrow staircase. Both men
turned to look at the other when they didn’t stop. Andrew shrugged his
shoulders. Colin did the same. Something sinister waited in another part of the
castle.

Andrew kept his eyes on the front guards, waiting for an
opportunity to overtake them and take their weapons. They may walk closer to a
place of escape. The stairwell opened into a corner of the kitchen. The front
guards led the way out of the dungeon. One holding the torch deposited it into
a sconce at the top of the stairway, then led the way through the massive
kitchen. The filthy men blinked their eyes against the kitchen’s light.
Scullions worked over great pots and spits in three large fireplaces. Some cut
meat on huge cutting tables, others stirred large pots that were brought from
the flames on chains with pulleys. They were preparing for the evening meal.
Andrew’s stomach churned from the smell of the food. A diet of putrid meat for
five days did little to stir his appetite.

The group left the kitchen and entered the great hall bustling
with activity. Many servants prepared a large number of tables. The MacKenzie
had many guests to require so many tables and so much food, but then three clan
chiefs had paid Andrew a visit in the dungeon. They were scheming something
foul for Colin and he, to be sure. Andrew suspected they would be the night’s
entertainment. Weapons lined the walls of the great hall, as they did the walls
of the great hall of Fàrdach Castle. He desired to snatch one, trying for an
escape, but several warriors in various clan colors stood guard in the hall,
and his hands were bound securely behind his back.

All eyes turned to stare at the prisoners when they walked by.
Some laughed and sneered, making snide remarks about the great Black Falcon of Fàrdach.

“He looks and smells mighty black now,” a nearby servant said
loudly to another. Both laughed with gusto. Others pointed and laughed while
holding their noses.

Andrew determined if he ever got his hands on Ewin Cameron or
Hugh MacKenzie, he would choke the life out of them, or better yet, put them in
the dungeon of Fàrdach Castle and leave them there to rot. While contemplating
more punishment for his two enemies, he remembered the story Colin told him of
the way Jesus acted through His trial and suffering. The Lord remained silent,
not saying a word while they spit in His face and pulled out His beard. He
looked at Colin, who walked beside him. The lad held his head high, and looked
straight ahead. He had a better heart than his chief. Andrew realized revenge
would never be the answer to peace, only forgiveness.
Lord, help my black
heart. ‘Tis hard to forgive your enemies. I canna do so without your
supernatural grace Colin told me about.

Andrew saw no means of escape but would not give up the
thought. The guards led the two men up a spiral staircase to a nearby chamber
door. One opened the door while the other entered, motioning for the prisoners
to follow. Andrew and Colin entered the large bedchamber. Two tubs with steam
rising from them stood in front of the fireplace, filling the chamber with the
scented odor of the water. A stack of towels lay beside each tub. Three members
of the MacKenzie’s
luchd-taighe
hustled about the chamber laying out clothing on the bed and straightening the
furnishings.

A guard came from behind, pushing both men into the center of
the chamber with the point of his spear. They stumbled forward, mouths opened
in awe. This certainly was not what Andrew expected from the MacKenzie. Did the
man have a change of heart? One of the guards took a small dirk and cut the
ropes binding the prisoners’ wrists. Two guards remained inside while the
others left and closed the door behind them. Servants began undressing the men,
piling their soiled garments in a corner. Andrew looked at his abdomen. Dried
blood caked the wound, and raw places were encircled with red, angry flesh. He
longed for the touch of Maidie’s cool, gentle hands on his body. In his mind,
naught would heal the wound in his flesh or his heart but her tender care.

Colin stepped into a tub and immediately sank under the steamy
water. He surfaced, wiping suds from his face. “What are you waiting for, M’Laird?
The water’s fine. ‘Tis a great way to spend our last moments on this earth.”

Andrew laughed then stepped into the tub. He followed Colin’s
example and immersed his body, head and all, rigorously scrubbing at the filth
in his hair. Yes, ‘twas a pleasant way to spend his last moments on earth.
Naught could be more enjoyable, except to have a certain bonny, fair-haired
lass share the tub with him.

The door opened then closed behind two servants carrying trays
of bread, slices of cheese, and delicious smelling meat. One following held a
crystal decanter of wine and two fine goblets. They deposited the trays, wine,
and goblets on a large table under the small window, then pulled up two chairs
beside the table. Each nodded in Andrew’s direction as they left. Indeed the
Lord was good. He may not live to see the morning, but he would enjoy himself
tonight.

After soaking in the tub for a good while, the servants helped
the two men dry off and dress in clothing the MacKenzie reserved for his
guests—shirts of silk saffron, great plaides of neutral, mottled colors
with a wide leather belt for belting the plaide, white wool knee socks, and
leather brogues for the feet. After Andrew and the
gille
dressed, they
sat down to feast and drink at the table his host provided.

Colin looked at him over a goblet of French wine. “Do you
think this is our last meal, M’Laird? That the MacKenzie plans to hang us come
morn, or worse?”

Andrew decided honesty served best. “I think he wants us ready
to be his entertainment this eve. If we must fight, remember the moves I taught
you.”

“But you’re injured. ‘Twould no’ be a fair fight.” Colin put
his goblet down hard with protective indignation.

“Aye, but my wound wanna bother the MacKenzie. He wanna care
if I’m injured or no’ as long as he has his sport.”

Andrew finished eating and pushed away from the table. The large
bed looked inviting. He longed to stretch out in its comfort and sink into the
softness, but he rose from the chair and stood beside the fireplace as the
menservants drug the large tubs of water from the chamber. Looking about,
Andrew spotted a small door in the recesses of the wall that probably held the
privy. He wondered how long he and Colin would be allowed to stay in the nice
chamber, now that they were washed, clothed, and fed. Colin rose and walked to
the small window. He looked out but turned around facing Andrew again. Naught
could be seen from the opening except the stone curtain wall around the castle.

A manservant pulled back the silk comforter on the bed and
fluffed the pillows. Another pulled a small trundle from under the larger bed,
spread it with blankets, and put a small pillow at the top. The servants left
the chamber, but the warriors remained on either side of the door. Andrew
wasted no time. He unbelted the plaide, leaving the silk
léine
on his large frame and climbed into the soft bed. Colin
undressed in like manner and reclined on the trundle.

Andrew put his arms behind his head. “Remind me, Colin, to
treat my enemies in like manner if ever I entertain one at Fàrdach Castle.
Sometimes kindness better serves your purpose than animosity. Right now, I
would come close to kissing the hand of Hugh MacKenzie.”

“Aye, M’Laird. I’ll remind you.” With that said, Colin began
to snore.

Andrew listened to the cacophony of noise emanating from the
great hall. Dishes rattled, loud talking, laughter, and music rose in a
crescendo up the stairwell. All got quiet of a sudden and a piercingly
beautiful voice rose in song. The singer sang a ballad in Gaelic, of love and
romance between a fair lass and her lover. He thought of Maidie. His eyes closed
in weariness with dreams of the bonny lass filling his mind.

***

Andrew woke to the warmth of sunlight
on his face. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not remembering where he
was until he saw Colin standing fully dressed beside the fire.

Colin smiled. “How are you feeling this morn, M’Laird?”

“Fine. I feel fine. How about you?” Andrew stretched both arms
above his head, yawning.

“I’m good, M’Laird. The bath and food did well to heal my
discomforts and help my sleep.” Colin smiled, looking perky with a small amount
of color to his cheeks.

“How many guards are outside the door?” Andrew yawned again,
wiping sleep from his eyes.

“Two are standing there, fully armed.” Colin moved to stand
beside the bed, extending his hand to Andrew.

He rose from the bed with the
gille’s
help and made his
way to the privy. The wound ached. His stomach growled. He took care of his
personal needs, poured water from a pitcher into a laver close by, washed his
face with the soap provided, and ran his hands and water through his hair to
dampen the unruly mane.

“Would you care for me to braid your hair, M’Laird?” Colin
stood close with a towel.

Andrew dried his face and hands. “Aye. ‘Twill keep the unruly
stuff from my eyes. Is there a comb to be had in this chamber?”

“Aye. Sit in the chair and I’ll fetch the comb.” Colin walked
to a small table while Andrew took a seat on the leather chair. The
gille
began combing and braiding Andrew’s thick hair. “I’ve naught to tie off the
ends. The braids won’t last long.”

“I won’t be doing any training or fighting for now, so ‘tis
fine. When did the food come?” Andrew pointed to a tray of boiled eggs, meat,
and cheese. A pitcher of cold ale looked inviting.

“While you slept, M’Laird.”

“I slept that hard—to no’ hear a knock?” Andrew was
amazed. He usually slept lightly.

“I heard the servant’s footfalls outside the door and opened
it before he could knock.”

Colin’s thoughtfulness touched him. Not only was the lad an
excellent warrior, but a fine assistant as well. “Come and join me then.”

“Aye, M’Laird. The food does smell inviting.” A smile lit
Colin’s handsome, youthful face. He pulled up a chair and joined Andrew at the
table. The two men soon lost their concern over being held hostage in
satisfying the return of ravenous appetites.

A knock sounded on the large wooden door before it opened. A
manservant walked over to stand in front of Andrew. “After you break the fast,
Laird MacKenzie desires your presence in his chamber.”

“Aye. Do I have a choice?’ Andrew spoke with his mouth full,
but managed a smile at the servant.

“Nae, M’Laird. Laird MacKenzie insists on your presence.”

“Then wait ‘til I finish breaking the fast.”

He finished eating and rose to follow the servant. Colin also
rose to accompany his chief.

The servant stopped. “He should stay here. Laird MacKenzie
wishes only you to come.”

Andrew nodded at Colin. He could tell by the look on the
gille’s
face, the lad was not happy to
be left behind. Being without weapons, Colin could do little to protect him.
The servant led the way to a larger heavily studded door not far from the
chamber where Andrew spent the night. The man opened the door and motioned for
him to enter a well-furnished study. A blazing fire burned in a large stone
fireplace filling one wall. A red stag’s head sporting a huge rack of antlers
hung over the fire. Another door, probably leading to the chief’s bedchamber
stood beside the fireplace. An expensive woven rug with vivid reds and blues
graced the wood floor. Hugh MacKenzie sat on a large leather chair behind a
desk. The other chiefs and the Cameron’s brother sat on chairs around the
library. Their heavily armed gentlemen stood nearby. Did they think he would
attack all four men at one time without weapons? Mayhap when they were in their
cups, but not first thing in the morn. Although all four looked like they had a
merry time last night.

“Come closer, Munro,” Hugh MacKenzie ordered. “We wanna bite you.”
He roared with laughter along with the others. Andrew stepped closer to the
group.

“You smell somewhat better this morn, although I can smell a Munro
a mile away no matter how often he washes.” Yellow teeth shone through the red
beard as the big chief slapped on the desk at his joke.

All but Fraser laughed with him a second time. Bryson kept his
eyes fixed on the Munro chief, and looked uncomfortable when Andrew nodded in
his direction.