Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (33 page)

As she returned to her friend at
the stairwell, Catherine again considered what she and Susan had learned that
morning.

Having cornered Auld Mab on her way
to the kitchens, the two had tried to glean a bit more information about the
past than Catherine had learned from the dowager.

More than anything, they now wanted
to know who Adam’s mother was. But Auld Mab’s lips were sealed on that point.
Glaring alternately at Susan and Catherine, the old woman had pointedly told
them that she would never reveal anything that might still be hurtful to the
dowager or any other lady hereabouts! She knew the truth, by the Cross, but she
planned on keeping it to herself!

As Catherine reached the stairwell,
it struck her, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“What’s the matter?” Susan asked.

“Adam’s mother!” Catherine said
quietly. “Auld Mab told us she’d not reveal anything that might hurt Lady Anne or any other
lady hereabouts
! ‘Tis a noble woman, and she lives nearby!”

“Aye!” Susan said excitedly. “It
must be! Why else would Auld Mab still be so defensive about it?”

Together, the two women turned
their steps down the stairwell.

“Who else can we ask?”

“There is no one else in this
keep--that I can think of--who might remember back that far.”

“What do you know of the dowager’s
friends?” The two women stepped past the entrance to the Great Hall. “Has she
ever spoken of people that she and the earl might have been friendly with years
back? There must be someone whom Lady Anne has spoken of.”

Susan followed Catherine toward the
door to the earl’s outer chamber. “Well, I’ve heard her speak of the earl of Bothwell and his wife.”

“The parents of Patrick Hepburn,
the bishop at Elgin Cathedral?”

 “Aye.” Susan frowned then and
shook her head. “I met the countess of Bothwell once, though, at my parent’s
holding near Linlithgow. I cannot imagine her having an
affaire d'amour
with someone else’s husband. She’s a tiny, timid woman with only one good
eye...and she’s very devout. A model of piety, you might say.”

“Some women are not pious from the
beginning. Some become devoted to religion later...because of what life brings
them.”

“Still,” Susan shook her head. “I
think ‘tis safe to rule her out.”

Trusting Susan’s judgment,
Catherine nodded and took a burning wick lamp from the wall as the two of them
stepped into John Stewart’s chamber. An unlit fire had been set in the hearth,
and Catherine now lit the dry tinder beneath the logs. In a moment, they were
sitting in two chairs before the crackling fire. It was important that they
sort out whatever they could before Athol returned from Huntly Castle.

“Can you think of anyone else?”

“Well, the earl of Moray and his
wife are old friends of the family, but I do not think the countess is a likely
paramour. I’ve never met her, but I know that a horse fell and rolled on her
when they were out hunting. They’d only just been married, as I remember it,
and she’s been crippled in both legs ever since. She’s never borne children,
Catherine.”

Catherine got up and moved to one
of the narrow windows. Opening the shutters, she looked out into the gray mist
that was now falling. “I guess there is not much chance of her being Adam’s
mother.”

“The Earl of Huntly has been
another close friend. But he never wed.” Susan turned in her chair and looked
at Catherine. “And then there are others more distant. The Macpherson clan has
a great holding down the River Spey, and the Ross clan has a number of castles
farther to the east. And the MacI...”

“What about the MacInnes clan?”
Catherine asked, facing Susan. Even as she said the name, she knew she must
push aside her uncertainties about the past that her husband and Joanna MacInnes shared. Nay, she chided herself as she returned to her chair, focus on the
answers that they were seeking regarding Adam’s origins. “The two families had
arrangements of marriage for their children, I understand. There must have been
a connection of some sort.”

Susan brightened. “You are correct.
I forgot the most obvious. From what I’ve heard from Auld Mab and the dowager,
the two families have been allied since the time Duncan MacInnes first brought
his family to Ironcross Castle.”

“With their lands adjoining,”
Catherine couldn’t help from saying, “of course, it only made sense for the
future earl of Athol and Joanna MacInnes to...”

Her voice trailed off, and
Catherine felt her face redden.

There was a long pause, and when
Susan spoke, her voice had taken on a reassuring tone.

“I do not think that you need to
fear anything from that quarter, Catherine. I believe there was a great deal
more speculation about that union than there was truth to it. I’ve only been at
Balvenie Castle for little more than half a year, but I have had the
opportunity to get to know Joanna MacInnes Kerr fairly well. And I speak honestly when I say that she is a woman who is in love with her husband. And I have never seen any intimation by either Joanna or Athol that they were anything but good
friends before her marriage to Gavin Kerr.”

In an instant, Susan’s words washed
away a doubt that had been nagging at Catherine from the time she first heard
the name ‘Joanna MacInnes.’

“As far as the family, though,”
Susan continued, “I would be hard pressed to say much about them...well, aside
from the...” She paused. “Well, other than what I know of Joanna and her grandmother, Lady MacInnes, the history of the women in the family is a wee bit
of a jumble.”

Catherine noticed Susan visibly
shiver, and she started up to close the shutters again.

“Nay, do not close them. ‘Tis not
the weather, Catherine.”

“What is it, Susan?”

“I see no one has told you the
tales of Ironcross Castle.”

Catherine shook her head.

“Well...” The young woman paused
and gazed into the fire. “‘Twas known for a long while, centuries maybe, that Ironcross Castle and those who lived there were cursed.”

“Oh, Susan! You do not believe in--”

 “Not a laird--for as long as
anyone remembers--died but violently there. And many of their families, too.
There are horrible stories, Catherine, of a thousand women buried in a crypt
deep beneath the castle.”

Catherine gaped as her friend
paused. Clearly, Susan believed the stories. “Did the dowager tell you all
this?” 

“Nay, she never speaks of Ironcross Castle or the MacInnes family. Auld Mab told me these things when I went to visit
the place for the first time.”

“And this...this curse has never
been lifted?”

“Aye, it has. Auld Mab says that Joanna and Gavin Kerr managed to put an end to it somehow.” Susan’s face brightened into a
gentle smile. “I do not know what the place was like before, but Ironcross Castle is now the most peaceful place you could care to visit. Of course, that
is, when their wild band of urchins are not whooping after the dogs in the
Great Hall or getting themselves stuck climbing in the chimneys. In fact, with
the new twin bairns in the keep, I’m certain Ironcross must be in even more of
an uproar. Never mind what I said about peaceful.”

Catherine smiled, as well, at the
image. She hadn’t yet told Susan about her own good news. The thought of young
children taking charge of the somber passages of Balvenie Castle was a most
enchanting notion. But also, the prospect of taking a trip to Ironcross Castle and meeting this family held a new charm for her.

“I believe that Lady MacInnes, Joanna’s grandmother, has lived in Stirling for many years, though Mab hinted to me that in her
time, she suffered greatly at the hands of--”

“Her husband?” Catherine asked
excitedly.

“Aye. ‘Tis only recently that she
has moved back to the Highlands. She’s living now with--”

An abrupt knock at the door
interrupted Susan’s words. Calling for whoever it was to come in, Catherine
watched Tosh enter, carrying a sealed letter in his hand.

“From the earl?” she asked, anxiety
suddenly evident in her voice.

“Nay, m’lady. A message from Ironcross Castle. ‘Twas sent to the earl, but the messenger had word that he was to give it
to you or to Mistress Susan if the earl was not in the castle.”

“Not to the dowager?” Catherine
asked with surprise.

“Nay, m’lady,” Tosh replied, a
frown creasing his battle-scarred face. “To you or to Mistress Susan, he said.”

The two women turned and looked at
each other. Catherine took the packet from Tosh, and with Susan looking over
her shoulder, she broke open the seal.

The two of them read it silently
and knew immediately what needed to be done.

“Tosh, I want someone to take a
message to Huntly Castle,” Catherine said decisively. “And we’ll be needing an
escort for a short journey of our own.”

*****

Huntly Castle’s gates were no more
than an hour behind them when Athol and his men surprised the two outlaws coming
over a boulder-studded hill.

The two put up very little
struggle, overwhelmed as they were by the earl’s warriors. Under Athol’s steady
gaze, the blood drained rapidly out of Roy Sykes's normally ruddy face, and the
other goodly-sized Highlander--whom Sykes had called by the name of Ren--grew
sullen and surly in captivity.

Moving quickly, Athol and his men
checked to see if any more of the outlaw band were in the vicinity--they were
not about to be surprised themselves.  There were, however, no signs of any
other brigands.

Saying nothing to them directly,
Athol ordered that their hands be bound and that the prisoners be tethered
behind the horses of two of his men. As they worked their way up and down the
rugged hills toward Balvenie Castle, he could hear his men talking with grim
humor about how far methods of torture had advanced since the days when the
Spaniards had raised the practice nearly to an art form.

After learning what Huntly had
deemed appropriate to tell him, John’s initial reaction had been simply to let
the two go, forgiving even Roy Sykes’s disloyalty. With good reason, John
Stewart had lost what zeal he had for bringing to justice those outlaws who had
been plaguing him for the past six months.

But as he considered freeing them,
he realized that somehow he must find a way of contacting Adam of the Glen--and
these men might just provide the means. He would take them to Balvenie Castle, but he would not punish them. Perhaps through questioning them--not by means
of torture, though--the Highlander might learn of Adam’s whereabouts.

The last thing he wanted now was
for his half-brother to disappear for another lengthy span of time before they
had a chance to resolve their differences.

They were nearly halfway back to Balvenie Castle when, passing a particularly suitable tree for hanging, the ugly outlaw
named Ren planted his feet and nearly jerked the warrior leading him off his
steed.

“M’lord,” the burly Highlander
croaked, dropping to his knees while Roy Sykes looked on, his mouth hanging open.
“Hang us here and be done wi’ us. Have mercy on us two, poor, beggarly
creatures. We ne’er hurt none o’ yourn. On ‘is Bones, I swear!”

Athol stared at the two for a
moment and then glanced at the tree, before looking back again.

“Very well,” the earl said with as
fierce a look as he could muster. “Say what you have to tell me, and I’ll
consider hanging you here.”

In a few moments, the two men had
conveyed a fairly concise tale of Adam’s activities--always swearing that no
one was ever hurt. This much Athol had already known, and he did not hesitate
to tell them as much with a menacing growl. The next information the two
revealed, however, drew his interest immediately. When asked why they were
separated from the rest of their band of blackguards, Roy Sykes had blurted out
in tones that were probably heard in Elgin.

“He has dispersed all his men,
m’lord,” the red-haired stable hand cried out. “After returning from Huntly,
the master gathered us together, divided what we had between us, and directed
us to go our separate ways. Adam told us the days of raiding your lands were
over, and that he’d skin us himself if he ever heard of any of us stealing from
your crofters or your flocks.”

Athol frowned at the two men. “Did
he say where he himself was going?”

“Nay!” Ren croaked. “Swear, ‘e said
nothing!”

Roy Sykes crossed himself and
looked steadily into the earl’s piercing gray eyes.

“Nay, m’lord! Many of us offered to
stay by him--to do whatever he asked of us. But he said nay to that. He said,
what he had to do and where he was going, he didn’t know himself. He told us to
go south and try to find a respectable living.”

Athol looked away and breathed a
deep sigh of relief. At least his brother was done raiding his lands. But he still had to find Adam and offer him the life that he should have had for all these
years.

“Cut them loose,” he said to his
men before looking into the two stunned faces of the former outlaws. “You are
free to go, but if I see either of you...or any of your band...again, I’ll
string you up and make you food for the crows. Now, do as your master
commanded, Roy Sykes. Go and find a respectable living.”

Adam didn’t know what to say or
what to ask when they met. He didn’t even know if he would be angry or joyous
when they finally came face to face.

But more important, he didn’t have
any idea how to get through the legion of Kerr warriors sure to be guarding the
gates of Ironcross Castle once he got there. Wiping the mist from his face,
Adam spurred his horse on and tried to imagine how would he ever get to the
woman.

The earl of Huntly had mentioned
her name only briefly. A mention, in passing, of her interest a year or so
earlier in knowing what had happened to Adam, about his situation in prison,
about what had been done to free him. Her anger that Huntly’s own efforts to
have him freed from the English prison had not borne fruit.