Clandara (11 page)

“Father, we'll find him,” she said. “I know we will; we'll probably meet him on the way.”

“Some harm has come to him,” the Earl said. “I know it. I've known since last night when he did not return. For your sake, my child, I hope the Macdonalds have not had a part in it …”

“Nothing has happened to him,” she insisted, but even as she spoke her heart began to race, and the fear, which was growing with every yard they rode, rose up and shrieked at her, “He's dead, he's dead … and you will find … you know what you will find …”

“And if it has,” she cried out, “why should you think James would hurt him? James would never touch a hair of Robert's head!”

But before he could answer her she whipped her horse into a gallop. And at the end of two hours' gruelling ride along the route to Dundrenan, they found Robert and his two clansmen lying in the heather by the foot of Ben Mohire.

It was Hugh Macdonald who killed Robert, and he ran him through the back because he had watched James duelling with him for ten minutes and seen him lose a dozen opportunities of finishing the fight. So Hugh came up to Robert as the two men circled each other, and drove his sword through him so hard that the point protruded through his chest.

“Good Christ, you killed him from behind!” James stared at him in horror. Hugh put his foot on Robert's back and using both hands pulled out the bloody sword and wiped it on the dead man's plaid.

“Well, I realized you were never going to kill him from the front,” he said. “You damned fool!” Suddenly his mood had changed and his face was dark and furiously angry. “He might have killed you while you danced around him like an old woman! What's become of you, can't you kill a man any more? Is that what that redheaded whore has done to you? David! Murdoch! Haven't you finished that dog yet? Cut his throat and let's be off!”

David turned over the two Fraser clansmen. Blood was oozing out of the mouth of the last, who had fought both him and Murdoch. Murdoch's dirk was sticking in his chest. David pulled it out and threw it to its owner.

“Leave nothing behind,” he said. “These two are dead! Make sure of the Fraser himself.”

James bent over Robert's body and turned him face upwards. The eyes were still open and the mouth twisted in the pain and surprise which was the last thing he felt as Hugh's blade pierced his heart.

“He's dead,” he called out. He did not look at his brother Hugh. “Mount up and let's get back. It'll be completely dark in half an hour.”

Murdoch walked slowly over to the body of the young fair man lying face upwards, and kicked aside the sword which had fallen from his hand. He bent over him and quickly searched his pockets, slipping a purse with a few guineas in it and a golden fob watch into his sporran.

“Och,” he said, looking down, “ye're prettier in death than any Fraser is alive … Refuse to join the Prince, would ye? … Ye've got off a might too easy for a dirty traitor,” and dropping on one knee the Red Murdoch made his own contribution to the Cause by quickly cutting the dead man's throat.

And that was how Katharine and his father found him.

The night had come and gone and the sun was high in the skies, turning the distant peaks of the purple mountain to a glorious golden colour, but still Katharine sat on in her chair by the window, looking out with eyes that saw nothing, refusing the food that Annie placed beside her, refusing to undress or go to bed. She still wore the crumpled riding dress and there was a great stain of blood across the skirt where her brother's head had lain in her lap until her father dragged her forcibly away.

She had come upon the dreadful sight quite suddenly, and the valley round Ben Mohire echoed and re-echoed with her screams of horror. And then hysteria gave way to silence; the terrible silence of shock which nothing had been able to break since she returned to Clandara.

Robert and his men had been laid out in the Chapel where she was to have married James Macdonald. The tenants were coming in to mourn and prepare for the funeral, and her father spent his time kneeling by his son's coffin, his head bowed upon his hands and his heart empty of everything except a consuming grief and an equally consuming hatred. David Macdonald had made a mistake when he said that all the Frasers were dead.

One of Robert's servants had been alive when they were found, and he forced out five words as the Earl and Katharine bent over him.

“'Twas James Macdonald did it …” That was all. Though they called to him and shook him, the man only lolled back and rolled up his eyes and died. But he had condemned James and doomed Katharine, and his words ran round her brain as she sat by her window.

“James Macdonald did it …” There could be no doubt. She could not deny it or excuse it or pretend that the words of a dying man were a lie. James had killed Robert. The man she loved had murdered the brother she loved and then let his men cut his throat … The nightmare memory came back to her and she groaned and hid her face in her hands to try to shut it out. Her father's terrible accusing cry shouted through her mind, as it had done for all the long hours of the night. “You brought that murderer into our home … and this is his doing!” If she closed her eyes she could see Robert as clearly as if he were in the room. The voice which would never speak again whispered over and over in her imagination.

“My sweet Kate, all I want is your happiness … I bear no hatred for any man … let the feud die … your James adores you …”

She remembered the dance they had had on the night of the Ball, when he told her gallantly how beautiful she looked, and for a moment she had thought how sadly she would miss him when she was married and living at Kincarrig. They had been inseparable as children, and the bond of love between them had been stronger than anything in her life until she met James. And now Robert was dead. The man who had taken her out on to the Ladies' Walk and kissed her until her lips were bruised, and put his hands upon her, had not scrupled to murder the human being she loved so much and who had actually befriended them. It was so dreadful that she could hardly force herself to believe it. She could not banish the sight of that mutilated body, but nor could she avoid the image of James which besieged her thoughts and tore at her heart with its taunting memories of their passion and their hopes all now blighted and betrayed.

“I wish he had killed me.”

They were the first words she had spoken, and they brought Annie rushing to her side, where she was just in time to take her mistress in her arms as she slid off the chair to the ground, rocking backwards and forwards, the tears pouring down her face.

“Oh, milady, my love, don't cry … don't break your heart like that! Ach, now, for the love of God, ye'll be ill if ye greet so … the Lord Robert wouldn't wish it … ye know how he hated ye to cry!”

“I loved him so,” Katharine wept, “but I loved that other more than anything in the world … and he said he loved me … Oh, Mother of God, Annie, how often he said it and swore it and how I believed him! And then he kills Robert, my sweet Robert, who never harmed anyone in his life and was the only friend we had. I wish he had killed me! I wish he had driven his sword into me …”

Annie said no more. She held the distracted girl in her arms, soothing her and wiping the tears away, and after a little while she persuaded her to go over to the bed, where she undressed her and helped her between the covers. Exhausted at last, Katharine lay back upon the pillows.

“Now rest there a moment,” Annie said. “I'm going down to the kitchens to make you a wee draught to help you sleep.”

“Where is my father?”

“He's in the Chapel with the Lord Robert and the other two poor laddies,” Annie answered.

“What has he done about this?” Katharine asked, and her voice shook.

“He's sent a message to Dundrenan,” Annie admitted. “Dugal the steward said he's accused them of the murder and he sent another letter to the Courts of Justice at Inverness impeaching the Macdonalds. That's all, child, and it'll do ye no good to think about it. It's out of your hands now.”

“I wonder what Father will do to
her
,” Katharine said suddenly. No one had thought of the Countess. She had run to her rooms and locked herself in when the cavalcade returned with the bodies of the three men, and no one had seen her since.

“Ach, I don't know,” Annie said slowly. “But I wouldn't be her for all the wealth of the world.”

“Nor would I,” Katharine muttered. “He should have thought of his cousin before he murdered Robert … He was quite concerned for her the last time he was here,” and to Annie's horror she gave a wild laugh. “Ah, and to think that I so nearly yielded to him that very night … and do you know what he did, the liar and hypocrite? He stood away from me and made a fine speech about abusing my trust, and took me back to the Ball. Oh, my God, my God, if only I could kill him! If only you'd let me revenge Robert and redeem myself for ever having touched him …”

Ten minutes later Annie was back with a cup of hot herb tea into which she had put a strong measure of whisky, and she sat by the bed until at last Katharine fell asleep.

Silence descended upon Clandara. It was the silence of death and grief, muffling the movements of servants and muting the sounds of the human voice. But the night before the funeral of the Lord Robert, the corridors filled with maids and serving men who came creeping up to listen to the screams coming from the Countess Margaret's room.

The Earl's steward came out in his night-robe and ordered them back to their quarters. He had seen the Earl go in to his wife with a hunting whip, and he thought it quite likely that, since the Earl was a little drunk and quite unbalanced with grief, he would beat the luckless creature to death. In any case it was no concern of the household. There was no one in it with the slightest inclination to interfere.

Only Annie came to her mistress and suggested that she might intervene; it would not look well for the Earl if his wife died of injuries. Katharine looked at her and her eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“If it were James Macdonald in that room, I'd go and watch my father kill him,” she said coldly. “But as it's only that miserable woman, I'm not interested what he does. Now go to bed and shut that door, Annie. I don't want to be disturbed.”

Robert had been dead and in his grave for nearly two weeks when the gatekeeper came running into the Library with the news that he had seen a Macdonald approaching on horseback. One of the ordinary clansmen, he reported in answer to the Earl's question. And then, to his amazement, Clandara ordered him to admit the enemy. As he went back to his post, the old man saw the Lady Katharine hurrying down the stairs to join her father.

She stood side by side with him when the man was brought in. He was young and dark, with bright blue eyes that watched them with a mixture of wariness and pride as if to tell them that he was not afraid to come alone and unarmed into their house. She remembered then that he had come with James that first morning nearly a year ago. He pulled off his bonnet and bowed.

“I am Donal' Macdonald, servant to James Macdonald of Dundrenan,” he announced. “I have a message for the Lady Katharine from my master.”

“Have you?” the Earl said quietly. “May I ask why James Macdonald did not deliver it in person instead of sending you? Was he afraid to face the family of the man he murdered?”

The young man looked at him stonily.

“My master is afraid of nothing,” he answered shortly. “But you must know, my lord, though the talk is that you're not joining him, that the Prince has landed here and the clans are rising with him. My master is preparing for war. All he asks is a fair hearing from you before he leaves for the campaign.

“Is that his message?” Clandara asked.

“His message is for you, milady; I have it here.” He held out a letter towards her. For a moment Katharine hesitated. She saw the familiar writing and the seal and remembered the impassioned letters which were still locked in her desk drawer in her room. Then she took it between the tips of her fingers and looked at it, turning it over.

“My master has explained what happened there,” his servant said. “I will take back your answer, milady. He is waiting for one word from you before he leaves.” He was still speaking when she began to tear the letter across the middle. She tore it in four pieces and then slowly dropped them on the floor at the messenger's feet.

“Your master wants an answer to take with him to the war,” she said quietly. “Then he shall have one. Wait.” She rang the bell-rope by the fire and when Annie came in answer to it, Katharine went and whispered to her. Then she went back to her father and taking him by the arm she led him down to the far end of the room. The Macdonald could hear them talking together and he shifted a little. There was something very dangerous in this cool reception. Something in the face of the old man and his daughter as they looked at him that told him to turn and leap through the window and escape while he could. But that would be showing fear, and these were Frasers and people on whom a self-respecting Macdonald would not spit. He stayed where he was.

“Here is my answer for James Macdonald.” Katharine came and held out to him the great emerald necklace and ear-rings which James had given her. “Take them,” she commanded. “Tell him to sell them and give the money to the Prince.”

The Macdonald could hear noises behind him. He glanced quickly behind his back and saw that the door was open and half a dozen men were standing inside the Library waiting for him. He looked into the face of the woman standing in front of him, her hands full of the splendid jewels, and saw that he was going to die. Before the Earl gave a single command, Donal' Macdonald spat on the floor at Katharine's feet.

They sent him back to Dundrenan over the back of his horse, with the Macdonald emeralds round his neck, where they became entangled by the cord with which he had been strangled. Five of the Frasers escorted the horse and its burden to within three hundred yards of Dundrenan itself and then, with yells of encouragement, they whipped it up so that it came to the house at the gallop. By the time the gates were opened and the horse and the dead man were taken inside, the Frasers were riding hard back to Clandara. And that same night the Earl and his men rode out to Kincarrig, and when they left, the blaze from the burning house lit the night sky for miles around.