Highland Chieftain (11 page)

A ray of hope shone in her heart and refused to be snuffed out. “The sheriff willnae like that. Any fool could see it would be nigh on impossible for me to do it but I dinnae think he cares who did the killing at all.”

“Nay, I dinnae either. If Robbie brings who he is after, I am thinking more than the sheriff will find themselves in a pile of trouble.” Out of the corner of his eye he caught the man nudging closer in the hopes of catching every word. “So, hold on, Bethoc,” he said clearly. “Ye will be out of here soon.” He turned toward the sheriff. “I would suggest it might be verra wise to be certain she is treated weel.” Before the sheriff could answer, Callum walked out.

The boys ran up to the cell and grinned at her. “I told him,” said Magnus, pointing at the sheriff, “what they all looked like so he will go after them now. Then ye can be free.”

Bethoc could tell by the sheriff's face that he had no intention of following that plan but she did not tell the boys. She took care to reassure them as well as she could. Then gave them each a kiss and sent them on their way, watching as they ran up the stairs, Uven right behind them. She had to smile for she doubted Callum's cousin had ever expected to be made a child tender. Then she looked at the sheriff and froze. The look the man gave her did not bode well for him obeying Callum's order to treat her kindly. Bethoc hoped Callum could work fast with all the new information he had.

“Your laird doesnae rule o'er this village, woman. Nay matter how weel ye pleasure the fool, he never will.” The sheriff smiled in a way that was definitely not friendly and marched off, his guards staying close.

“Was that your mon?”

Bethoc jumped a little in surprise as she turned around to look at Laurel. “I dinnae have a mon.”

Laurel laughed. “Och, ye certainly do. That was Margaret, aye?”

“Aye, that was my wee Margaret.”

“A beautiful wee lass, and she kens what she wants.”

Bethoc laughed as she moved closer to Laurel and sat down. “I need to keep a watch on that and get her to, er, soften her demands.” Laurel laughed. “She can be verra forceful.”

“Och, nay,” Laurel said, laughter still in her voice. “She just hasnae learned the correct ways to get what she wants when she wants it. Or how to properly show her anger and disgust with an oaf like our sheriff. She is a lass with wit and strength. It already shines in her. It just needs honing. The lads look to be fine little lads, as weel.”

“They are. These troubles have shown me that. They need more than working those lands for naught though and now it appears I may have lost them a chance to finally have that. They will lose the only home they have e'er kenned.”

“Ah, because it will be taken.”

“Aye, as yours was and, I suspicion, as those women who sadly hanged lost theirs.”

“Ye think this is something to do with the lands?”

“'Tis a thought and it would explain so much. Callum feels sure something else is going on here. He also thinks it might have to do with what is being forfeited by the women arrested.”

“It would have to be someone beside the sheriff though. And I cannae believe it of the magistrate. Dinnae ken the mon weel but he is said to be kind and just. This is neither.”

“Callum and his friends will sniff it out.”

The sound of heavy, slow steps quieted both of them. Bethoc watched Laurel disappear into a pile of rags again and wished she could do the same as William appeared at the door and smiled. She decided she loathed that smile and would like nothing more than to have the strength to wipe it off his face. When he opened the door and pulled her out, she prayed she faced no more than she had before. Terrifying though it was, it would not be death by the command of a foolish man she now suspected was trying to satisfy a greedy man.

* * *

“They have been doing something to her,” said Callum later that night as Uven came to settle down on the pallet. “I dinnae ken what but her gown was wet.”

“Ye dinnae think it was what he said.”

“Nay, I think he was lying and she cleverly changed the subject.”

Uven frowned. “No bruises or other signs of injury?”

“Nay, not that I could see. Yet what would leave her in a wet gown?”

“Plunging her in the water. Was her hair wet too? I didnae look.”

“Aye, it was, though nearly dry. So what are ye thinking they are doing to her?”

“Dunking. The dunking could be used to get her to confess. Dinnae think there is anyone who isnae afraid of drowning, aye?”

“Aye,” Callum agreed, his anger simmering inside him as he recalled the fear he had felt when he had thought he would drown. “They put her in water until she feared she was going to drown, didnae they? And for that she was supposed to say, ‘Oh, aye, I killed Kerr.'”

“I believe that is how 'tis done, aye, though I have only ever shoved a mon's head into the water until he thought he would drown. He did tell me what I wanted to ken though.”

For a moment Callum forgot his anger and stared at Uven. “Just when were ye holding a mon's head under the water to get information and why?”

“King's business.”

“
Jesu
, Uven, that is a good way to meet God early.”

Uven winced. “I kenned it nay long after that and got away. It was exciting but, aye, a good way to get yourself killed.” He crossed his arms under his head. “Aye, had a lot that I liked what with that excitement, the danger, and, oh, the lassies who smile favorably on such men. Then a friend was killed. After I was done grieving for him, I looked at all he had lost, all he would ne'er have, and weighed it against what he had accomplished, none of it for him, only for the king, and it didnae weigh in weel. For king and country, aye, in a battle, a war, a true fight with good, clear reasons. The other things, the spying, watching fools who think they are so much better and should be king? Nay. That sort of thing also turns on ye when ye least expect it and ye can get killed by the ones ye used to call friend. I walked away. Too many secrets. Too many lies.”

“Verra wise, especially when ye find out the one the king names an enemy isnae always a true threat to the throne.”

Uven laughed. “Och, aye, true enough.”

Callum smiled but then sighed, unable to hold fast to any humor. Those men at the sheriff's had been using torture to get Bethoc to confess to a crime she had not committed. He was not sure what they were doing since they would have to submerge her completely to get her gown as soaked as it was. She had to have been so afraid, he thought, and that stirred his anger. He had not protected her.

“If she gets but one wound, one bruise, I will beat the whole lot of them into the dust,” he finally said.

He glanced over at Uven and sighed again. His cousin was asleep. He would obviously be sharing his bed tonight, just not with the company he would prefer. Settling down as comfortably as he could, he closed his eyes. Callum knew rest was needed if he was to be able to free Bethoc. If naught else, he would need his wits sharp.

Sleep was almost upon him when he felt a small weight jostle the pallet then curl up at his side. Callum opened one eye and saw Margaret huddled up against him, half on his chest. He put his arm around her in the hope that he could keep her from rolling off the pallet. Although there was no whining, no crying, he knew the child missed Bethoc. He missed Bethoc. Silently he swore to Margaret that he would get Bethoc out of that cell even if he had to raid the place, grab her, and then flee.

Chapter Eleven

Waking up and retching was getting tedious, Bethoc decided as she crawled away from the mess she had made. She always held the fear that William would make a mistake and she would actually drown. Nothing she did could ease that fear. Her belly hurt as did her lungs. The rest of her body ached all over. She feared sitting around in damp clothes would bring on a fever as well and, if she got a fever in this wretched place, it could kill her.

Perhaps she should have told Callum what they were doing but she had eluded his every question about her damp clothing and her weariness. One look at the sheriff was enough to make her believe that, if she spoke up, it would be far, far worse for her and that was terrifying. She had nursed Laurel after the men had taken her away and she lived in fear of the same thing happening to her.

“Better now?” asked Laurel as she sat up and looked at Bethoc.

“A bit. Getting the water out helps.”

“That was the fourth dunking,” Laurel whispered.

“I ken it. All I can do is pray Callum returns with what is needed to set us free.”

“Us.” Laurel laughed and it was not a pretty sound. “Ye really think he can free me?”

“Aye. If there is any proof ye didnae kill your husband he
will
find it.”

“I pray ye are right because I fear I will soon say whate'er they want to hear just to make it stop.” She began to softly weep, quickly covering her face with her hands.

Bethoc staggered over to sit beside her and hold her. She had wondered when the woman would break and marveled at her strength. The fact that no one came for her or spoke up for her certainly did not help. Laurel had no hope to cling to and was losing the need to hold fast to the truth. If she gave that up, she would hang for a murder she had not committed. Bethoc suddenly wondered how many other women had done so, wondered if they had broken and confessed to a crime they had not committed just to get the men to leave them be. It was horrible to consider.

After a moment Laurel sat up again and wiped the tears from her face. “I am sorry.”

“Ye have naught to be sorry for. They should be beaten within an inch of their miserable lives.”

“That would be a pleasure to see. Nay, I apologized because I failed in my promise to myself. I promised I wouldnae break down like this and add to any fear ye may have.”

“And ye did verra weel but I was still terrified. It is like something alive inside of me so dinnae hold strong for my sake. And I can do naught but marvel at the strength ye have shown. The sheriff really isnae interested in the truth, is he. He doesnae care if we did it or nay.”

“Nay, he wants us to confess. Then we hang and his laird takes our lands.” Laurel huffed out a cynical laugh. “He can have mine. I dinnae want them. Too many dark memories. Do ye ken, he ne'er offered us money for it? No one came by to e'en ask me or my husband if they could buy the property. I dinnae understand that.”

“Nay, it makes no sense.”

“'Tis almost as if he wants to be verra sure there is no one to lay claim to the land, to mayhap argue his rights to them.”

“Weel, my boys have a right to that land. And, it was my mother's kin who gave it to Kerr. So, e'en if they can say I am nay his daughter, Kerr still had the right to pass his land o'er to whomever he wished. And, then there is Margaret. She
is
his child. Nay doubt about that.”

The moment she said it, Bethoc was hit by a wave of panic. Margaret could be considered the true heir if Kerr had written no will, had never bothered to state who would have the farm after he was gone. Yet Margaret was still just a child, she thought as she fought down the panic gripping her. A child too young to be a threat. She would not be a child forever, though, which meant, if she was not gotten rid of soon, she would become a threat to whoever was after the land.

“Bethoc!” snapped Laurel. “Margaret is safe with your mon. He willnae let anyone get to her.”

It took several slow, deep breaths before Bethoc could crawl past her fear. “Of course, Callum will care for her. I suspicion he has already seen the danger. I wish he would come. Then I could be certain of it. Or warn him.” She frowned. “Yet why would the laird, if it is the laird, do this? Doesnae he own all the land anyway?”

“Most of it. People pay a rent fee. But nay every inch. Some ancestor could have gifted the land to someone for some brave deed done or e'en sold it off when the coin was needed. The people would then have papers saying so.”

“Papers?”

“Aye, something signed by whatever laird gave it or sold it, mayhap ones e'en carrying the king's seal.” Laurel frowned. “I dinnae ken where Robert put his. He had some and was verra proud of them. He kept them close. Some ancestor saved a laird's son and was given the land.”

“How was Robert killed?”

“He was gutted out behind some tavern. It was an appalling wound and he suffered a lot before he died. Unfortunately, the only word he said clearly was my name. So they took me up. I was at home but no one stepped forward to say they saw me there, which was an odd thing. I was working in the garden until late, then shortly after that, I was sitting out there because it was a fine evening and cooler out there than inside. Someone should have seen me as all my neighbors have a clear view of the back of my house. Now I wonder if they e'en asked or if my neighbors e'en ken where I am.” She shook her head. “How did they gather ye in?”

“Some men told the sheriff they heard screaming and were sure murder was being done at my house. So the sheriff says. So they came out to look and found me.” Bethoc sighed. “I didnae much like Kerr and kenned he wasnae my father but I played the game for years. Mayhap that is why I couldnae abide him left tied to a chair with pieces of him scattered about his feet. I went back to bury him.”

“Ye lived with him all your life. Sometimes that is enough.”

“I suppose so but it proved to be a foolish mistake.” She shook her head. “I didnae ken what the men were after so I cannae say why they tortured him so badly. There is this boy Cathan who they took from Callum. They did ask after him. I fear I saw that much. They obviously thought Kerr kenned where he was or learned that he was the one who took the boy away from them. I only kenned who the boy was because Callum spoke of him.”

“A verra tangled mess. Whoever is doing this no doubt sees it as an easy way to get the land.” She frowned. “There is a verra greedy mon at work here and this town is corrupt, I think.”

“Weel, Callum will uncover it all. We can only pray he can do so in time to help us.”

* * *

“This must be the most corrupt village I have e'er entered,” said Sir Simon Innes as he entered the cave. “Did ye find any papers?” he asked Callum as Robbie handed him a tankard of ale.

“Aye and it appears Kerr saved everything anyone ever wrote down for him.” Callum scowled at the box he was slowly working his way through.

At Sir Simon's instructions, they had ransacked the house searching for proof of ownership, for any official papers at all. All of them had searched, the boys proving to be invaluable. It was surprising how many small places there were in the house and they required a small, agile boy to search them. In one of them was stuffed this box. Callum assumed Kerr Matheson either had a crook to reach it and pull it out or had used one of the boys when he was too young to recall it later.

“Ah, I think I finally have something useful,” Callum muttered as he thumbed through a set of papers that had been tied together with a heavy ribbon.

Sir Simon sat down on the pallet beside him and held out his hand. Callum gave him the papers and waited tensely. The man had immediately responded to Robbie's request for help. He was clearly a man with a strong sense of justice and a sharp curiosity about puzzles. Although he had not said so, Callum believed Sir Simon had dealt with a similar trouble for he recognized the problem and knew exactly what they needed.

“Aye, this is what ye need,” Sir Simon said. “The land was bought and paid for by Kerr Matheson's late wife's parents. I suppose one must give them some credit for nay just tossing the lass out into the street even if they did choose badly when they bribed Matheson into marrying her.”

“I suspicion he presented a fine image for them back then,” said Callum. “And, to be fair, he may have thought she would come to love him but she disappeared into dreams about Brett Murray, the one who gave her Bethoc.”

“Now we can free her but this does naught for that other poor woman. Ye are sure she is innocent?”

“Bethoc is and what we learned about her husband's murder makes me believe Bethoc's instincts are right. She has been treated poorly. I need to get Bethoc out of there before they treat her the same.”

“We need to find at least one of those five men.”

“Ye think he would confess or turn on his companions?”

“They tied a mon to a chair and cut bits off him until he died. They attacked ye, a lone rider, as a group. They were after a little boy, one they probably intended to kill or kenned they would be asked to do so. All for what, I suspicion, would seem a pittance to us. Aye. It may take a wee bit of persuasion, but any one of them will confess and point fingers at anyone involved in a vain attempt to save their own miserable lives or e'en just to be sure they dinnae hang alone.”

Callum nodded and began to understand how this man had risen to become the king's man and gain such a fearsome reputation. “Then we best hope our Simon and Uven find the bastards for I cannae wait long when I can use these papers to free Bethoc.”

“Ye fear they will abuse her.”

“Aye,” Callum said between gritted teeth. “I doubt my threats will deter them.”

“Nay, nay for long. So we best make an effort to get those men.”

“Will two of them do?”

Sir Simon and Callum were startled by Uven's voice, not having heard him enter. Right behind him came Robbie dragging two tightly bound men. Sir Simon strode over and stared down at the two men Robbie dropped to the ground and Callum quickly followed.

“Ye caught the leader,” Callum said, nudging the scarred man with the toe of his boot.

“Have we?” Uven shrugged. “Mayhap he will ken something useful.”

“What happened to the other three?”

“One escaped although I am nay sure he will live long with the wound he has. The other two are dead. They proved reluctant to come along willingly.” Uven grinned.

“Weel, at least ye left two to speak.”

“Ah, knocked them out first then tried to persuade the others.”

Sir Simon grinned. “Good work. Now we wake them and get information.”

Robbie walked off and brought back a bucket of water, which he dumped on the men's heads and Sir Simon laughed softly. “Thank ye.”

Consciousness was regained slowly and then Sir Simon crouched down next to the scarred man. Callum saw the expression that had undoubtedly struck terror into the hearts of many. The scarred man could not successfully hide all his fear as he looked at Sir Simon.

“Why did ye take the boy Cathan?” Sir Simon asked.

The man's voice was calm even if his face was cold and threatening. It revealed a great control over himself. That was terrifying and it was evident the scarred man thought so as well. Callum knew he would never want to be questioned by the man if he was hiding something.

“His family wanted the boy back,” said the scarred man.

“Why?”

“'Cause he is family.”

“And holds both coin and land.”

“Aye.”

“Yet his mother, when she ran to Whytemont, gave the rights of guardian to Sir Callum MacMillan.”

“She was sick and not in her right mind,” the scarred man spoke as if reciting a hard-learned lesson.

“And was that the reason ye beat the laird of Whytemont and tossed him into the water to drown?”

“What? I . . . He wouldnae give us the lad!”

Callum fought the urge to say something because he suddenly saw what Sir Simon was doing. Lulled by easy questions he had ready answers for, ones that could be answered without incriminating himself, the scarred man was thrown off when given a hard one and blurted out the truth. He was eager to see how the technique would work in getting the information to set Bethoc and Laurel free.

Sir Simon settled down on the ground, sipped his drink, and then began to question the other man, tricking him into also confessing the attack on Callum. Callum sat down on the ground to watch. It was as good as a play. Sir Simon showed no reaction with each hard truth he pulled out. He quietly listened and then pressed for more.

“I must say, it has been a long time since I have uncovered such a putrid mess. Corruption, bribes, murder, anticipated murder, and the use of helpless women to steal land.” Sir Simon stood up, handed Robbie his empty tankard, and brushed his hands off. “Ye will, of course, hang but ye will have a lot of company on the gallows.”

“No one will heed ye,” the scarred man said but the taint of panic was in his voice.

“Oh, aye, they will. Ye see, I am nay just a knight or a laird. I was served as the king's mon. They called me the King's Hound. Unflattering but useful.”

When Sir Simon walked away, Callum followed. “Ye, sir, are a marvel.”

Sir Simon laughed. “Thank ye, but there is naught marvelous about it. Ye make them calm with easy questions they have readied, practiced answers for, answers that will nay hurt them, and then abruptly slip in a hard one. They almost always falter then. Only the truly evil can evade the trap and these men are naught but hired brutes.”