Aidan (3 page)

“Where are we?” Effie
called down to the guards.

“You’re in
Liddel Castle,” the guard told her.

“But . . . thet’s a Scottish c
astle,” she said, knowing of its whereabouts just north of the English border.

“Not anymore it’s not. Lord Ralston the Bold has seized it, and I assure you he is English, not a wretched Scot.”

“What do ye want from us?” she called down to the guards. Her heart thumped in her chest and she knew it didn’t look good for either her or her sister. If she couldn’t strike up some kind of bargain, they would most likely die in these cages. She only hoped they wouldn’t be tortured, or perhaps kept in a cage for four years the way the English had done to her grandmother, Isabel MacDuff. “What did ye do with the rest o’ our clan?”

“
What clan?” asked one of the guards. “You mean that band of gypsies you travel with? Hah! That’s no clan, they were nothing but common thieves and swindlers.”

If she weren’t
in such a dire situation, she’d almost find that amusing, since that’s exactly what she’d been thinking about the English. “They are our family. Now let me loose, I demand you.” She pulled on the grates again, causing the cage to rattle. A crow settled itself atop her sister’s cage, reaching its beak through the bars, just waiting to be able to peck their eyes from their bodies as soon as they were dead and shriveled from the sun. Her sister screamed and hid her face in her hands.

“You have no
gypsy family any more,” the guard relayed. “They tried to attack us when we came for you and your sister, and we had to kill them all.”

“Nay!” she cried, the anguish inside her starting to boil
over. Her heart felt hollow, and she mourned for the lives of the gypsies that were taken, because they did naught but protect Effie and her sister since the death of her mother. “I’ll kill ye bastards, e’ery one o’ ye, I swear. Ye willna get away with this.”

“Effie?” She looked over to see her sister crying, and she wanted nothing more than to gather her in
to her arms and comfort her the way she’d always done through the years. But she couldn’t. She tried to reach through the grates, and her sister reached for her as well, but while their hands were close, they could not touch each other. “They’re goin’ te kill us, arena they?”

Effie’s heart broke to see the fear in her sister’s eyes.
Though the girl was already four and ten years of age, she’d been weak and sickly most her life, and her heart was not strong. She often fell victim to fevers. She could already see her sister’s frail body shaking. And though it was summer, she knew come nightfall her sister would be cold.

“Nay, stay strong,” she told Coira
. “They canna win unless we give in te them, and lose our will te live.”

“Why are they doin’ this?” she asked again. “What did we do
te deserve this kind o’ treatment?”

“We did nothin’
,” she explained. “’Twas an act o’ our grandmathair thet has them so roiled.”

“
I kennawhat ye mean.”

“I’ll take care o’ it,
now jest get some sleep.”

She saw her sister’s eyes closing, and she knew the girl was exhausted. Effie swore she’d do whatever it took to right this situation. No more MacDuffs would live in a cage in front of the publi
c eye the way her grandmother had. Her mother had told her in order to ensure their safety, they had to keep their identity a secret. She had no idea how the English found out about them, after all these years of thinking Isabel MacDuff died without issue.

But then she knew what happened when
she saw the gypsy man, Tasgall walking into view. When the English did naught to confine him, she was sure this man had spilled their secret.

“How does
it feel te be up there?” Tasgall asked, and flashed a quick smile.

“Ye traitor,” she called down and spit at him out of the cage.
She never did trust the old coot, ever since the day she found him stealing food from one of the bairns. He was over forty years of age and had a big nose and beady eyes. And Effie thought it was shameful to even call him a Scot after what he’d just done. “Why did ye do it? Why did ye tell the English our secret?”

“
Becooz I have a secret too, me little bird. Only mine is one thet the English like. Ye see, I am a descendant of the Comyns. And in case yer mathair didna explain te ye, yer grandmathair was married to a Comyn before she decided te betray the English crown.”

“Ye have it wrong
, ye fool. Me grandmathair wasna the one te do the betrayin’. She was loyal to Robert the Bruce, and also her country. Too bad I couldna say the same fer the Comyns.”

“Aye. Too bad thet
Comyn and Bruce were enemies, but then again ye have The Bruce te thank fer killin’ Red Comyn so many years ago, so mayhap he’s te blame fer ye hangin’ in thet cage after all. Jest like what happened te yer dear auld grandmathair.”

Effie knew only too well what he was talking about. Her mother
had explained their roots, and that Isabel had left her brother being fostered in England, as well as her husband who had befriended the English king, to crown Robert the Bruce at Scone, as was the hereditary right of a MacDuff. She was a very brave and honorable woman. And if she hadn’t been captured by the English, things might be different for Effie and her sister today.

Effie’s
father was from the MacDuff clan and had come to her mother to couple in secret. He was a coward though, or he would have done something about rejoining them with the clan. She actually felt no remorse the day she held her mother’s hand and looked down at the dead body of the father she never knew on the bloody field after the Battle at Neville’s Cross. As far as she was concerned, the man got what he’d deserved. She was only too glad that Coira never had to experience this, as he’d died before she was actually born.

“Tell me what ye want,” she cried out to the Englishmen. “I’ll do anythin’ at all, but please, jest set me sister free. She is no’ well, and canna be treated this way.
”

“Anything?” asked the guard, and Effie could already feel her skin crawling at the thought that he’d probably defile her. Still, she would say whatever it took to get him to release her from the cage, and then perhaps she’d have half a chance of fighting him off or coming up with a plan to free her sister.

“Ye ken what yer lord wants,” said Tasgall to the guards.

“Aye,” said one of the guards, nodding his head.
“But I think we should have our way with the girl first. Lower her down,” he ordered another of his men.

The cage was lowered slowly to the ground, and
the guard twisted the key in the lock, releasing the hinged door. He opened it and grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out into the dusty courtyard. He had the look of lust in his eyes, and may have tried something if the lord of the castle hadn’t walked out at that moment.

“Good,
Dempster,” he said to his captain of the guard. “I see you’ve got the wench ready to go. Now take her to the Glasgow fair immediately, and don’t let her out of your site.”

“Lord Ralston
,” complained the guard. “I thought we could have a little fun with her first.”

The man named Lord Ralston
reached out and grabbed Effie by the chin. His grip was tight and she could feel the pressure biting into her flesh.

“I’ll be the first one to have her once she’s delivered to us the information we need. Now, Scotsman,
” he said, looking toward Tasgall, “where did you say you heard talk of the Stone of Destiny?”

“I heard t
he Highlanders talkin’ aboot it in the pub when they were well in their cups,” Tasgall told him. “I think they have the real stone, and the one King Edward stole is only a fake.”

“Just as I thought,” said
Lord Ralston, nodding his head. “For years I’ve believed the English had a fake stone but couldn’t prove it. But now, with any luck we’ll not only have proof, but the stone itself.”

“Shall I send word to King Edward that we’ve found information that the English have been tricked years ago?” asked the guard.

“Nay, not yet. Not until the girl gets us the information of its whereabouts,” said Lord Ralston, releasing his hand from her chin and running his fingers through her hair. “With her looks, any Scot will tell her whatever she wants to know. And with that MacDuff brooch she’s wearing, all of the Scots will trust her.”

Now Effie knew why they hadn’t taken her brooch. It was a symbol of a brave Scottish woman that all the Scots revered. They were going to use such an iconic symbol against her. It turned her stomach to even think of it.

She pulled away from Lord Ralston, and held up a hand to block him from touching her again. That’s when his fist shot through the air, and though she moved aside, he still clipped her on the jaw for her actions. She fell to the ground, hearing her sister screaming from up in the cage.

“You stupid wench,” he
growled. “Don’t you see if you don’t do as I command, you’ll pay for it dearly?”

“Do whate’er ye
want te me,” she said. “I willna betray Scotland by givin’ ye any information. It is me homeland and I will be as loyal to it as me grandmathair was.”

“Can w
e take her now?” asked Dempster.

“I said no,” he spat. “And you will get the infor
mation I request,” he warned Effie. “Because if not . . .” his eyes roamed upward and stopped as his gaze landed on her sister. “If not, then your sister will pay for your incompetence. First with her body . . . and then with her life.”

Effie looked upward
to see her sister was not sleeping after all. Instead, she was holding on to the bars of her prison, peering at Effie with all the hope in the world in her eyes. She was frightened, but also trying to be strong. She shook her head, tears flowing from her eyes.

Effie had been
more like a mother to Coira than a sister, after the death of their mother. She would protect her with her life, and never allow harm to come to her. Coira was her only family now. Her only reason to live. And though it pained her to do anything against Scotland, she would do whatever it took to save her sister’s life.

“I’ll do it,” she said, tryi
ng to ignore her sister’s wailing from behind her. “Tell me what information ye need, and I will get it fer ye. Just dinna do anythin’ te harm me sister.”

Chapter 3

Aidan stepped out of the Horn and Hoof pub in Glasgow, followed by Onyx and Ian. He had his squirrel on his shoulder
, and held up a crumb, feeding it as he walked.

“God’s eyes
, Aidan,” said Ian, following him out into the midst of the fair. “Are ye goin’ te be sore at us fore’er jest fer teasin’ ye aboot yer dream?”

“Aye,” said Onyx. “We’ve
already been here fer two days now and ye’re still actin’ like a bairn aboot the whole blame thing.”

“I jest wish ye two would take me dreams s
eriously,” said Aidan.

“We do,” answered
Onyx.

“But it is a wee bit tryin’
when ye tell us such a . . . tail,” said Ian, as he burst out laughing.

Then
Onyx joined in, slapping Ian on the back. “Let’s get another dram o’ auld Callum’s mountain magic.”

“Guid idea,” said Ian. “Aidan, are ye goin’
te join us?”

“Nay. I’m goin’
te take Reid to the forest te root around. I’ll meet ye back at the pub in a wee bit.”

He
headed off toward the edge of the forest, in no mood to drink with his friends. It wasn’t usually like him to stay sore at them for so long, but something about the dream had him feeling very unsettled inside. And though he couldn’t even remember the face of his angel any more, one thing about the dream did not fade from his mind. The English soldiers in his cottage. He wondered if it was some sort of warning.

“Go on
, Reid and root around. But hurry back.” He put his squirrel on the ground, and the animal took off to the treetops. He sat down at the base of the tree and had only closed his eyes for a few moments when the squirrel started screeching, telling him that something was wrong.

He opened his eyes and looked around, then heard a noise coming from deeper in the forest. It sounded like the voice of a woman
, and it sounded as if she were in trouble. He  grabbed his sword from his side, and rushed through the forest.

“Let go o’ me ye brute,” Effie said to the English guard, Dempster, who was trying hard to accost her. He was supposed to just bring her to the fair so she could find out information, but unfortunately, she could see that he had other plans. Especially when his friend appeared to help.

“I’ll hold her for you, and you hold her for me,” said the second guard, appr
oaching quickly. Dempster threw her to the ground and his friend straddled her, pulling up the end of his tunic as he did so, untying his hose.

“Get off o’ me, ye ba
stards!” She bit Dempster in the hand, and the second guard reached out to hit her, but was stopped by the strong fist of a Scottish Highlander as he shot out from the forest and twisted the man’s wrist. Her attacker cried out in pain and she heard the bones in his hand snap.