The Maid of Lorne (21 page)

“T
ell us, traitor, what did you gain from your treachery?”

The man questioning him backhanded him again, and Sebastien struggled to remain upright. With his arms bound behind him, it was difficult. When he did not answer, the man punched him in the stomach, and as he bent over from the force of it, punched him in the face again. That blow landed him on the floor, and as he fought to take a breath, a kick followed and then another until he lost consciousness.

He was still on the floor when he woke. Blood poured from his nose and from the wound on his head, and he could not feel his hands. He thought at least one rib was broken, possibly more, making it difficult to breathe.

He lifted his head and looked around. They’d thrown him in the cell that faced the firth. The large barred opening allowed both wind and rain in, and so he was bloodied and cold and wet. Sebastien could not tell how long he’d been there. The same rain that
pelted him now had put out the fire in the storage rooms. He’d known the blaze was a distraction when he’d seen it. Leaving the tower, he’d rushed to the chapel because he knew it would be the only way she could get away.

Sebastien knew that Eachann must have crept up behind him and hit him. When he awoke there, she was gone and the doorway, the one he could never find, stood open, as if glaring at his stupidity. He did not bother to follow, for he knew it must lead to the shore, and that they were long gone.

The king’s men were in the hall when he entered, and, led by Patrick Campbell, they arrested him for treason. Patrick had him searched and claimed to have proof of his guilt. It could not have been much, and so the beating commenced to try to get more from him.

Sebastien would never give them anything. He’d promised to protect Lara and the children and he would do that, for if Robert believed that she was a spy, he would think nothing of executing the children as punishment for her crime. After keeping them with him and putting them in danger, Sebastien would have to keep silent to protect them now.

He moved slightly, and pain shot through his arms and chest. He needed to get off the floor and out of the rain. Ignoring the pain, he brought his legs up and rolled onto his knees. It took a long time for the sharp biting ache to ease and for him to be able to breathe. As he did, he heard a guard call out. Soon, the cell was filled with Patrick and his men. They pulled him up by his arms and forced him to stand.

“You will suffer less if you tell us the truth. I promise
a quick hanging if you tell us what you gave to the MacDougall and the names of your accomplices.”

Sebastien steeled himself for the blow as he watched the man make a fist and draw his arm back. But it did not come.

“Campbell! Another blow and I will lay you out.”

Sebastien chuckled at James’s threat. There was no love lost between the Black Douglas and the Campbells, so this would give him the chance to take them on without fear of repercussions. Although Sebastien could hear the heated words between them, he could not see them now for the blood pouring into his eyes.

“The king said to hold him for questioning.”

“Aye, I heard him. But the bastard tried to escape, so I had to prevent that.”

It was a lie—they all knew it—but James would not call him on it. That was not his way. “Clean him up and bring him to the hall.”

“Oh, aye,” Patrick said in a bitter voice, one that spoke of being forced to obey.

Sebastien heard James stride away, and waited. Patrick would take at least one more strike at him before releasing him to the Douglas.

“Clean him up? He will be cleaned.”

They dragged him to where the rain fell the hardest and held him there. Patrick left and returned, followed now by several men carrying large buckets of water. They lined the buckets up and forced him to his knees. Grabbing his hair, they pushed his face into the first one. He struggled against their hold, but they were too many and he was weak. Just as he started to pass out,
they pulled his head out of the water and threw what was left in his face.

“Nay, lads, not yet. He is not clean yet.”

He tried to take a breath before they grabbed him again, but his chest would not respond. His struggles were for naught and he was held in the next bucket and the next until everything began to fade to black.

At least she was safe. If he had to die to protect her, then it had to be.

“Damn it, untie his hands, I said!”

James again.

Sebastien forced his eyes open and discovered that he now lay in the middle of the hall, on the floor. He felt the slice of a dagger cut through the laces that bound him, and through his skin as well. He could not feel his hands or move his arms, but within a few seconds, they came screaming back to life.

No one said a word as he struggled to his feet. Without the blood in his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded, by his men, James’s men, the Campbells, and none of them looked very happy.

James stood and walked over to stand in front of him. “There are some charges that you must answer to, Sebastien. I am here for the king, to find out the truth.”

“We know the truth, Douglas! He’s a traitor.”

Sebastien did not know which of the Campbells called out, but his men yelled their own insults back at the accusation. A riot threatened. James instructed his men with a nod, and with swords drawn, they surrounded him and separated the others. Sebastien pushed his matted hair out of his face.

“We are here to seek the truth,” James said, looking at him. “Will you answer my questions?”

Sebastien did not reply, but James continued anyway. Holding out a small object, he asked, “Is this yours?”

Startled at seeing his mother’s cross in James’s possession, he nodded. “’Tis my mother’s.” The last time he’d seen it, it had been stored safely away in his trunk…along with his father’s ring.

“You see? The bastard gave us up to the Mac-Dougalls!”

As more yelling and pushing began, James called out to them. “Hold! In the king’s name, hold!”

James walked to the table and brought back a document of some kind. He held it out to Sebastien. “Do you recognize this?”

Sebastien took it and peered at it. It was a letter to him from John of Lorne, and as he read it, he shook his head. “This is not mine.”

“They found it inside your tunic when they searched you. You are saying it is not yours?”

“It is not mine,” he repeated.

He could see that James was in a quandary—he wanted to believe him, but the evidence pointed to his guilt in this very serious matter of treason.

“We will hold him until the king arrives,” the Douglas called out loudly.

The Campbells argued, but there was nothing they could do here in the hall, outnumbered by James’s men.

“Sir Hugh, he is your prisoner until the king relieves you of him. Secure him and see to his needs.”

Hugh approached with Connor and Jamie and took
him by the arms, helping him back to the south tower, but to the cell above where the Campbells had held him. While the two stood guard, Hugh left and brought back something dry for him to wear. After locking him in, Hugh stood at the door.

“Do not be a fool, Sebastien. We know you are not the traitor. Even James knows.”

“Do you?” he asked, as he stripped off the wet tunic and gown.

“And we know the most likely suspect, as well. Your life is at stake here.”

“My honor is at stake, Hugh. Nothing less than my honor.”

Hugh mumbled under his breath and banged on the door. “Do not protect her, Sebastien. Tell the truth and save yourself.”

He walked to the door and spoke quietly to his friend. “I am nothing without my honor, Hugh. We have fought together long enough for you to know that I keep my word.”

“Aye, but you pledged to the king. What about that oath?” When he did not answer, Hugh asked, “Do you truly think that they will let her live?”

“Nay, not for long, once their purpose is attained.”

“So you admit that you protect her?”

“To you? Aye,” he answered. “But, if the king believes that Lara is in a plot with her father, he will have no choice but to kill the children as an example to those who would defy him and break their truces. Hostages are worthless if they are left alive after betrayal.” With a great amount of pain and difficulty, Sebastien finished dressing in the dry clothes.

“What will you do?”

“Once I know that she is safe, nothing at all. The king will draw whatever conclusions he must from the evidence.”

“Safe? How will you know that?”

“Surely, Hugh, you know that all spies have a contingency plan?”

“My lady? My lady? Please wake up,” the quiet voice said in the darkness.

Lara opened her eyes and struggled to sit up on the small cot where she lay. Then she realized she was not alone and almost screamed. His hand over her mouth prevented her, and he whispered for her to be silent. She nodded her acceptance and he dropped his hand.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she whispered as she moved as far as she could from this stranger.

“My name is Munro, my lady. I am your husband’s cousin.”

“How did you find me?”

“I have been working for your father for weeks, keeping a watch on him for Sebastien.”

“You are a spy?” she asked.

“Hush now, my lady. I would not want someone to hear you. I have come to get you out of here, but you must hurry and do as I say.”

Sebastien had directed him to find her? “My husband sent you?”

“Nay, but I am under orders to do what I must, and this seemed the right thing to do.” He handed her a sack. “There are clothes in there—change quickly and bring your own cloak as well.”

It took her only a few minutes to dress in a man’s garments. She handed him her clothes and he stuffed them under the blanket to appear as though someone slept there still.

“Are you ready? We must move quickly and not look back. Do not look back.”

Catching sight of the bloodied dagger in his hand, she nodded, though not sure at all. But something in his gaze told her that her life depended on getting away from here, and that he was the way to do that. And with what she knew, she needed to return to Dunstaffnage before they executed Sebastien.

James Douglas leaned back and let his laughter roar out. Then he shook his head as he looked once more at the pair of scraggly men standing before him. Well, one man and one woman. Her displeasure at his mirth was clear.

“James, this is a serious matter. You know he is not a traitor.”

“Aye, my lady. Just as I know that you are,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Touché,” Lara answered. He had to admit that her voice did wonderful things with French words. Her tongue curled in the just the correct manner to soften the sounds…and heat a man’s blood. Even filthy and dressed as a man, she was appealing.

“I must see the king on Sebastien’s behalf.”

“I fear not, my lady. I do not trust you enough to allow you access to the king.”

“So, then, you would allow the king to execute his own brother and not tell him so?”

“My lady, you try my patience!” Then he heard the last words she’d said. He searched her face for some indication of whether she spoke the truth or not.

“Aye, James Douglas, you heard me. Sebastien of Cleish is Robert’s own brother.”

“You have proof of such a claim?” He crossed his arms and waited for her reply. The defeated expression on her face told him the answer.

“But there
is
proof. If you let me into Dunstaffnage, I can get it and bring it to the king.”

He laughed again, but she stopped him with a poke in his chest. “If you are his true friend, you will at least see the proof and do what you can to help him.”

He stopped laughing then and accepted the inevitable. “Tell me what I must find, lady, and be quick about it.”

The news reached even the most isolated place in the castle—the Bruce had arrived. Sebastien heard one of the servants tell the guard when they brought him food. He’d thought about his dilemma and still saw no way out of it that did not damn her or the children or his honor. He knew that Robert would most likely seek a private word with him before reviewing the matter in public, so he waited.

James had not been back to talk with him, nor Hugh, but Sebastien suspected that was to avoid any challenges to their authority. He wondered what his men must think of this. Well, there was not much to do now. He was not sure that Robert would understand the choices he’d made, but he would comprehend the need for his word to stand.

The guard came to the door and announced a visitor, and Sebastien stood and waited for Robert to enter. Instead, a much smaller man entered and stood before him. Surprise turned to shock as he gazed at his wife’s face. Before he could respond, James Douglas pushed her forward and entered the cell behind her.

“’Twould seem all your good efforts are for naught, Sebastien. Look who returned to Dunstaffnage this morn.”

He could not look at her or he would waver. She must get away or everything would be in danger.
She
would be in danger.

“James, if you are my friend, take her from here and let her go. For all the times I covered your arse, let her go.”

“I tried that, but she will not be put out,” James said. “I am having nightmares over her threats of bodily harm if I do not come to
your
aid.” He laughed. “Between the two of you, I do not know which to fear most.”

“Lara, you must go. James, please.” He would beg if that’s what it took.

“But Sebastien, she tells such an interesting tale. You should hear it before you send her away.”

“Lara, do not say a word.”

“It is too late, Sebastien. I have told him everything—about my family’s plans, about the information I provided to them, about…you.”

“What about me?” What did she mean?

“Everyone knows you are a man of honor. No one can believe that you would betray the Bruce, a man whom you pledged your word to, a man I know is your brother.”

The light in the cell changed somehow, and he gazed at her across the small distance. She knew? How did she know? Words would not form in his mouth, but from the knowing smirk on James’s face, this came as no surprise to him.