Highland Chieftain (13 page)

The sheriff kept his eyes lowered and shook his head.

“I am certain we will find out soon. Sir Simon has a true skill for ferreting out the truth. Aye, ye may nay have wielded the knife but ye are a part of these killings, a verra big part. Ye are also all foul rapists.”

“They were willing,” the sheriff protested.

Laurel marched over to the table in front of him and mimicked Sir Simon, slapping her hands down on the table, causing the sheriff to jump. She leaned forward and spat, “Willing? Ye tell yourself we were willing?”

“Ye didnae fight, did ye?” The look in her eyes made him lean back as far as he could without moving his chair.

“'Tis hard to fight three men, even harder to fight when ye are tied hand and foot. Women who have had much of their strength sapped from their bodies by being nearly drowned repeatedly in William's barrel, from getting only one plate of slop a day, from the fear of kenning ye are innocent but no one is listening so ye will hang. Dinnae ye dare use the word
willing
when ye speak of what ye did, ye fat bastard. Dinnae ye ever dare.”

Bethoc hurried over to take Laurel by the arm. She could feel the woman shaking and knew she would soon start weeping. That would later humiliate her so Bethoc put her arm around the woman's waist and led her out of the room. She could hear the soft sound of Lorraine as the woman hurried after them. Callum gave her a stern look that conveyed the clear message that she was to go no farther than just outside the door and then the door behind them.

“
Jesu
,” muttered Laurel and she covered her face with her hands. “The hatred I feel for that mon kens no depth. I could feel it rising up to choke me with its venom.” She took a deep breath and then wiped the tears away before looking at Bethoc. “Thank ye for getting me out of there. I wouldnae have wanted him to see my tears.”

“Because he would have thought them a sign of weakness, nay the fury they truly reveal,” said Lorraine as she stepped up to lightly rub Laurel's back.

“Exactly.” Laurel kept taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. “I am better now.”

“Are ye certain?” asked Bethoc. “Better enough to go back in there?”

“Mayhap it would be good to give me a few more minutes.”

“Then we will take a few. He cannae get anyone to believe his lies, ye ken. All those men saw me tied to the bed, skirts up, with the sheriff on top of me and ready. They ken what he was about. Two of them are lairds. One used to be the King's Hound, and all are knights. He is done, finished. I just wish we could learn who has been the one ordering this, the one picking the lands to take.”

“I really think it is one of the laird's sons,” said Lorraine.

“That would explain why no one is telling.” Laurel frowned. “'Tis the youngest, I would wager. He has always been a little bastard, wanting what is nay his, bullying people to get his way, and nay paying his tab at the tavern. A shame, for the laird is a good mon and so are his other three sons. His lassies are pure angels. I have seen the youngest son being mean to them, too. Aye, I will bet it is him. I think this will all soon end,” she said as she cocked her head, listening. “That Sir Simon returns with more than Sir Robbie the head cracker.”

Bethoc laughed and then Sir Simon came into view. With him he had a well-dressed man who looked as if he was about thirty. The man's eyes widened at them and then he stared hard at Lorraine.

“Lorraine?” he asked, and stepped closer, causing Sir Simon to halt.

“Aye, Sir MacKray,” she replied, and blushed when he took her hands gently in his.

“Weel, if I didnae already ken the mon, I would wonder if he had killed her husband,” murmured Sir Simon as he moved next to Bethoc and watched the two step away to have a fierce whispered conversation.

“'Tis a bit of a surprise.” Bethoc looked at the man. “Ye found him quickly.”

“Ah, I would like to say it was my great skill but I fear it was just good luck. He was about to come in as Robbie and I stepped out. Probably caught wind of her arrest, now that I think on it. So, Robbie and I took him o'er to the tavern and had a chat.” He sighed. “He is horrified about those other three women and I believe I actually saw his friendship with the sheriff die. I feel badly for him as he is a good, honest mon who believes in the law and justice.”

“I have a feeling he will be getting all the sympathy he could want,” said Bethoc as they watched Lorraine stroke his hair when he bent his head in shame.

Sir Simon chuckled and then took a few steps closer to the couple. “We had best go, Walter.”

“Of course. I will speak with ye later, Lorraine.” He kissed her cheek and followed Sir Simon.

“My, my,” drawled Laurel when the door shut behind the men, and she grinned when Lorraine blushed brightly. “Ye willnae be a widow for long.”

“Nay, ye misread the situation,” Lorraine protested. “I have kenned Walter since we were bairns together. That is all it is.”

“Lorraine, that mon is nay looking at ye as if ye were his childhood friend.”

“Truly?” Lorraine looked wary yet hopeful as she looked at Bethoc for some response.

“Truly,” Bethoc said. “Now let us get back in there. I dinnae want to miss this.”

“Walter is terribly upset,” whispered Lorraine.

“He is probably an honest mon and his name has now been smeared by what these fools made him a part of.”

Bethoc opened the door to see a pale-faced sheriff staring at Walter. It looked as if the man was finally seeing the full cost of the games he played. It reached far wider than the death of three women, something she doubted bothered the man at all. What he was beginning to see was how deeply it appalled others.

“Walter . . .” the sheriff began.

“Nay, dinnae call me that. 'Tis only my friends who have the right and ye are nay longer counted amongst that number. My God, ye have put blood on my hands! Innocent blood! Ye used me to help ye play this vicious game and I curse ye for that. Now, tell me who set ye on this ruinous path,” the magistrate said in a voice that held all of his authority.

“Angus Keddie,” said the sheriff in a sad whisper.

“Lock them up. I need to step outside. I need, I crave, fresh air.”

Walter MacKray walked out. Lorraine looked after him with sad eyes. Laurel and Bethoc moved to flank her as Sir Simon, Callum, Uven, and Robbie started to drag the prisoners out. They each elbowed Lorraine lightly.

“What?” Lorraine asked but she could not keep her eyes on them, instead she constantly looked in the direction the young magistrate had gone.

“He would welcome a friend right now,” Bethoc said. “A shoulder to cry on.”

“Someone to say ‘there, there,'” added Laurel.

“Someone to say it will be fine, or get better.”

“Aye, someone who can raise his spirits. Pat his back. Mayhap kiss his cheek.”

Lorraine laughed. “Ye do recall that I am but a day widowed?” When she got no response from either woman, she laughed and headed out after the magistrate.

“There. That wasnae so hard,” Bethoc said, and exchanged a grin with Laurel. “Are ye going to be all right?”

“In time. Aye, I will recover. I am thinking I might sell my lands and leave this place though.” Laurel sighed. “But there is time to think that over. Now, I fear, we must go and break the laird's heart.”

Chapter Thirteen

The laird of Dunburn bowed his head and slowly shook it. They had laid out the whole nasty plan and who was involved. His eldest son and heir stood behind him, his hand gripping the man's shoulder. He too looked stunned but even as Callum watched, the look turned to one of belief, then resignation, and finally anger. It was a blow to the heart they had delivered and nothing could be said to soften it but they were not being openly argued with and the son's face told him it all came as little surprise.

Laurel finally moved to pour the man an ale and hand it to him. “Here, m'laird, drink.”

“Ye were one of them, aye?” he asked as he studied her.

“I was, aye. My husband was killed and I was accused of his murder.”

“I am so sorry, lass. So verra sorry.”

“Nay, if ye mean for the loss of my husband, dinnae trouble yourself. He was a brute and nay a great loss. He didnae deserve what he got, mayhap, but I willnae miss him. And none of this was your doing. 'Tis I who am sorry for what ye must do now.”

“Laurel,” Bethoc hissed softly, “ye shouldnae speak of your husband that way.”

“Why? 'Tis naught but the truth. I dinnae miss him.”

“'Tis disrespectful.”

“Weel, if he comes back and does something worthy of respect, I will give him some. For now? Huh.” When Bethoc looked up, Laurel asked, “What are ye looking for?”

“God to strike ye down for speaking ill of the dead.”

“Hah! It isnae God who is welcoming that mon.” She turned back to the laird who was watching them and smiling faintly. “Oh, 'tis good to see your spirits are better. The ale helped?”

“Aye, the ale helped.”

Callum leaned closer to Sir Simon. “They did that on purpose, aye?”

“Aye.” Sir Simon grinned. “And they have a fine rhythm to it. The laird was buried under his grief but he is out of it enough now that we can tell our tale.”

Sir Simon began to speak to the laird. Bethoc listened for a while then turned to Laurel. The rags she wore were no longer needed to hide in and she suspected Laurel would like to put something else on. She could do with a change as well, as four dunkings into the water, the dress left to dry on her body, had left it shapeless and itchy. They would both feel better after a change. Perhaps Lorraine would as well, she thought.

“We need to wash up and change,” Bethoc said.

Laurel looked down at herself and grimaced. “Och, aye. It was useful, I think, even when it went to rags but now I want it gone. Didnae save me though. Nay, it needs to go. It and the smell of the prison. And those men,” she whispered, and smiled faintly when both Bethoc and Lorraine grasped her hands. “How do we get away?”

“Ask,” Bethoc said, and stood up. “We are going to Laurel's to clean up, if ye would be so kind as to excuse us,” she said to the laird.

Robbie glanced at Callum who nodded. “I will go with ye.”

The three women got up, spoke politely to the laird, and followed Robbie out. The man seemed to have elected himself the guard of everyone, Bethoc thought with a little smile. And he could be very insistent about it.

“Do ye have to stomp around after everyone?” she teased him.

He gave her a sideways glance, looking down at her. “Seems a reasonable thing to do.”

She laughed and shook her head as Laurel led them to her home. It was a small, neat house made of stone with a fine garden in the back. Inside it was tidy but not richly furnished. Leaving Robbie to watch the door, all three women went to the room in the back of the house that Laurel said she had set aside for bathing. They heated water and talked as they prepared the first bath for Laurel. As they scrubbed her hair, rinsed it, and scrubbed it again, Laurel was revealed to be a redhead. Bethoc decided the woman was a lot more stunning than she had first realized.

Lorraine went next and Laurel disappeared to collect gowns for them to wear. By the time it was Bethoc's turn, she nearly tore her own gown in her rush to undress. Laurel returned with gowns for each of them. When Bethoc put on the one chosen for her, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it fit and looked at the taller Laurel in curiosity.

“My younger sister visited us for a wee while last summer,” Laurel said, and then smiled. “It was nice. For a short while I enjoyed being the lady of this house and my husband was on his best behavior.”

Bethoc patted her on the arm then frowned as she tied back her damp hair. “I wonder how the men are doing convincing the laird of what his son has done.”

“He was certain of it the moment they told him,” said Laurel. “The decision they seek now is what to do next.”

* * *

The laird was heartbroken but holding up well, Callum decided. The man never argued anything they said and Callum kept waiting for the man to explode in fury and refuse to believe a word. He did not. He knew he had a bad one but had obviously held out a hope that whatever he had seen in his child would never manifest or would just be petty things, easily ignored. It all had to be unbearably hard news to bear, however.

Just as Sir Simon asked where the young man was, he walked confidently into the hall. It surprised Callum a little that the young man was so plain, so ordinary, and not just because, at sixty, the laird was still such a strong, imposing figure of a man. Two other young men stepped in and halted as they studied Callum, Sir Simon, Uven, and the magistrate all seated there near their father. They showed a curious caution that was missing in young Angus Keddie. Despite how much sympathy he felt for the laird, he was going to enjoy crushing the cockiness the young man wore so proudly.

“Who are these men?” asked Angus, flicking a dismissive hand toward them.

“These men are more important than ye think,” said the laird in a hard, cold voice that quickly put a dent in the young man's confidence. “That one”—he pointed at Sir Simon—“is Sir Simon Innes, laird of Lochancorrie, and do ye ken what he used to be called? The King's Hound.” Angus paled a little but his father did not hesitate in continuing the introductions. “Sir Callum MacMillan, laird of Whytemont, Sir Uven MacMillan, and I believe ye ken our magistrate. Seems your wee game has been uncovered, lad.” He patted his eldest son's hand and that man quickly left the room.

“What game are ye speaking of?”

Callum had to give the young man praise for how well he acted shocked. He noticed the other two young men had edged their way into the room, hands on their swords as they eyed Angus warily. If the fool was in some war with his father he had failed miserably in gaining any support from his brothers, for Callum had finally seen the familial resemblance that marked them as the laird's sons. He would not be surprised to learn the young man had long been a thorn in his brothers' sides.

“It appears there has been a rash of husband killing in our village. The wives have been taken up for the killings. So far three have been hanged. 'Tis odd that I heard naught of this, aye? But, I didnae. Ne'er heard a whisper of their crimes, their troubles, or their fate. Wonder why that is. Magistrate?” He glanced at Walter.

“I was informed by your son Angus that ye had been told, even that ye felt certain the women were guilty,” Walter answered quietly, the paleness of his face telling Callum that it would be a long time before he forgave himself for the hanging of those three women.

“Weel, why should ye hear of all these troubles, Father? Ye have sons to deal with such petty problems.”

“I doubt those women thought them petty problems,” said Walter.

The look Angus gave Walter was so full of spiteful menace, Callum was glad they would soon take Angus down. Even if Walter was too sunk in guilt to see it, Callum did, and a quick look at Sir Simon told him that man had seen it too. The way the laird had narrowed his eyes told Callum the man was also aware of the threat. The youth had grown overconfident but he suspected killing six men and having three women already pay for some of the murders had made him cocky. That and he put too much faith in being the laird's son giving him some shield against actually paying for his crimes.

“They killed and they paid for it. All of them confessed.”

“Nay,” said Walter, anger beginning to harden his voice, “the three ye had brought in recently are crying nay and naught changes that.”

“They will. The sheriff can be verra persuasive.”

“Aye,” said Callum, “tying a lass to a bed and having three or four men use her as they will can make a lass confess to anything.”

A glint came into Angus's eyes that told Callum the man would have enjoyed being part of it and he ached to strike him down. The image of Bethoc tied to that bed, the sheriff between her legs ready to take her, was not one he could easily forget. Any man who revealed an interest in such a thing deserved to be pounded into the dust.

“Cease picking at Walter, Angus, 'tis beneath ye, though I begin to believe little else is. Ah, and I believe this is what I need,” the laird said as his eldest returned looking enraged, with several papers in his hands.

Silence reigned as the laird read the papers, though he kept one hand on his eldest's arm. Callum judged that wise as the man looked eager to strike at Angus. The other two brothers edged closer, reading the papers over their father's shoulder. The way their eyes widened and they glared at Angus made Callum think they might know, or knew, someone mentioned.

“Ye killed David,” said the laird, and he stared at his son as if he did not know him.

“What? Nay! I ne'er killed anyone. What are ye talking about? David was my friend.”

“Then ye had your hirelings do it, but he is dead all because ye wanted Boswin Cottage. Tell me, have ye already moved in or have ye set up a mistress there?”

“Nay, I didnae kill David.”

“Then why do ye have the deed to Boswin Cottage? Is that why ye also have the deeds to Colin Knox's and Ian Fearn's farms? Ye killed David”—he paused as Angus stuttered a denial—“or had him killed. Colin and Ian as weel. Then ye had the sheriff take their poor wives and accuse them of murder and then ye saw to it that they hanged. What happened to David's bairns?”

“I dinnae ken what ye mean. Why should I ken what happened to them?”

Angus cried out and fell to the floor when his father suddenly rushed at him and backhanded him, demanding, “What happened to his bairns?”

“I dinnae ken.”

The laird looked at his other two sons who had come in with Angus. “Find them and find out if Knox and Fearn had any bairns. It cannae give them back their parents but we will make certain they are raised weel, cared for until they are of an age to take possession of what this worm I bred tried to steal.”

“Nay, Da, I didnae . . .” Angus began as his two brothers rushed off.

“Shut it. And ye nay longer have the right to call me Da. Nay longer have the name. Ye are nay my son. Ye are nay a Keddie and ye nay longer reside at Dunburn. As soon as I replace the sheriff ye are his problem.”

“I could hang!”

“Aye, ye could. Right now I wouldnae lift a finger to stop it.” He walked back to his seat as his eldest son dragged Angus off. The laird stared at the papers for a moment before looking at Sir Simon. “The other women are freed, aye?”

“Aye,” replied Sir Simon. “The sheriff and his guards as weel as two of the five men who did the killing are locked up tight. A big fellow named William is running free but I doubt he will be hard to find. I am sorry this trouble has come to ye but it had to be stopped. As for the two women now freed whose husbands were killed, weel, ye will have no trouble o'er that.”

“Ah, they dinnae grieve the loss.”

“They werenae verra good husbands, nay. And I am now done with this so I willnae be pressing ye to do what may be impossible for ye.”

“That is verra good of ye. Dinnae fear though. Whate'er happens he will ne'er be unwatched again.”

“I think that is best.” Sir Simon stood up and the others followed as they all shook hands with the laird.

When the laird went to Walter, he clasped him by the shoulders after shaking his hand. “I am truly sorry, Walter. I picked ye as a magistrate because I kenned ye were a deeply honest mon, one who could be fair, honest, e'en kind.”

“I sent three innocent women to their deaths.”

“Nay. Nay ye didnae. My son sent them there. Ye did naught but what ye should when given a preponderance of proof by men ye trusted, the sheriff, his men, e'en Angus. Remember that. They lied, they twisted justice. Ye have naught to feel guilty about. Put the blame where it belongs.”

“Aye, my laird.”

They were almost out the door when Walter suddenly stopped and turned back. “My laird? Ye will be in need of a new sheriff. If I might venture a suggestion, I think Artair MacReavie would be a good one.”

“Aye, I will consider it. Thank ye, Walter. God's speed.”

“
Jesu
, that was hard business,” said Uven once they were outside.

“Nay as hard as it could have been,” said Sir Simon as he mounted his horse. “The mon listened and believed. We were fortunate that the laird had already seen what evil lived in his son. His brothers kenned. Each one of them. Even before we spoke they had guessed who we had come for.”

“Aye, a good mon, the laird. He didnae deserve this blow.”

No one argued and they made their way to Laurel's house only to find that Lorraine and Bethoc had left. Hearing that Bethoc had talked of stopping at her house, Callum rode there. He suspected Walter would be visiting Lorraine when Sir Simon and Uven headed back to the cave. The thought that all he had to do was send Robbie off and he might have some time alone with Bethoc caused Callum to nudge his horse into a faster pace.