Highland Protector (24 page)

The soft scrape of a boot on stone drew her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find Henry leaningagainst her cell and smiling at her, that smile that made her fear of her coming execution seem petty. He was back, without Walter and without a guard. The man who wanted to steal the throne, a man all knew had been banished forever from the court, should not be wandering around in the dungeons with no guard keeping an eye on him. Ilsabeth hid that knowledge quickly and eyed him as she would any unwanted guest.

“I think ye could be one who would give me a son,” he said.

Ilsabeth almost gagged, not only at the thought that this man would have to touch her to accomplish that but that any child of hers would be close to such a man. “Let me think. I can stay here and meet the torturous death of a traitor. Or, I could allow Walter to steal me away to play his mistress in France. Or, I could allow ye to breed a child on me. Has a woman e’er had so many wondrous choices? My bounty is overflowing.”

“Your father didnae beat ye enough.” He frowned. “And he has let ye run free for far too long, too. I think ye are twenty, mayhap a year or twa more. Ye should have been wed with half a dozen bairns by now. It is time I had another wife. Ye would do.”

She glanced around wondering if she was actually still asleep. “Do ye or Walter e’er hear what ye say? He wants me to whore for him in France until he tires of me and then he would probably sell me or send me back here to face the same thing I am facing now. Ye speak of making me your wife so that I can breed ye sons but ye must ken that I have heard what happens to your wives and your poor wee daughters. So ye offer me a few years of servitude to ye until I prove I cannae breed a son or ye tire of me whereupon I will be killed. And that after I may have had to watch ye kill a child or two of mine because it wasnae born with the right dangling part. What have I done to make ye and Walter think I am that dim-witted?”

“Actually, I think ye may be very sharp of wit. Too sharp. ‘Tis a dangerous thing for a woman to be sharp-witted but ‘tis something I would like to have in a son of mine. Aye, I believe I will consider this more. The added joy of taking ye to wife and breaking ye to my hand is the knowledge that ye belonged to Simon.”

“Why do ye hate Simon so? What has he e’er done to ye?”

“He lived. He grew up and watched me with my own eyes at every turning and he judged. No one judges me.”

“I see. Weel, it has been a pleasant time talking to ye as I dinnae get many visitors down here, but ‘tis time for my rest. Have a pleasant journey home.”

Henry shook his head. “Enjoy your foolishness as ye will. Ye will soon do as I want.” He leaned very close to the bars and said in an almost friendly voice, “Ye have a weakness, lass. Ne’er forget that. Think hard on what that weakness is and ken weel that I will use it to make ye do as I want, e’en if it means I get a wee bit of blood on my hands.” He started to walk away. “The sweetest blood is said to be that of the tender wee lasses. It runs smoothly and brightly o’er the hands.”

His horrible words echoed in the dungeon long after he had walked away. It took Ilsabeth a moment to realize that she was panting with fear, her heart pounding so hard she felt faint. Staggering back to her wretched pallet, she tried to make herself believe it an empty threat, but she could not. This was a man who–barely into what some called youth and others called manhood–had slaughtered his brother’s dog and draped it over him as he slept. Three years later he had murdered his own father. She would be a fool not to take any threat he made very seriously indeed.

Ilsabeth looked around her cell and nearly screamed out her frustration and terror. Her weaknesses all lived at Simon’s house, the man Henry loathed and badly wanted dead. Henry knew about the children. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slightly on the pallet. There was nothing she could do until someone came with the pitiful meal and sour water they delivered once a day. That was hours away yet and Henry was wandering freely around the very heart of the king’s home. He would find getting into Simon’s house and getting to the children no trouble at all.

And Simon, she thought, and shivered. He was after her Simon. He was also a weakness with her, but she suspected Henry would try to kill Simon simply because he wanted to.

Ilsabeth began to pray for Simon to come to her. She understood why he had not for there were many good reasons. He was trying to bring the real traitors to the king so that she would be free. He could have also been forbidden by the king to come to her. But, still she prayed, for he was the only hope she had to try and keep Henry from doing any of the things he threatened to do.

“Find a way, Simon. Please, please, find a way to come to me.”

Simon jerked awake and wondered why he felt so afraid. He was sleeping in the chair in his ledger room, which was uncomfortable but no cause for alarm. The children were in bed and he could hear the faint sounds of MacBean and Old Bega arguing about something just down the hall.

Probably him, he thought, and grimaced as he rubbed a hand over his face and listened to the rasp of his beard. There was a little time for him to clean up before he made his way to the court and tried yet again to get permission to speak to Ilsabeth.

He tensed as the dream that had yanked him out of his much needed sleep came rushing back into his mind. He could see Ilsabeth, huddled on a pallet, her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slowly back and forth. She had been so clear to see in his dream that he had reached out to her.

Simon frowned, thinking hard and forcing more of the dream to come to mind before it faded into the mists of his memory. There was something important there that had forced him to wake alert and feeling as if he needed to get to her quickly. He could still feel the urgency thrumming inside him.

Deciding he would go to the court and press harder to get permission to see her if only for a few moments while heavily guarded, he leapt up and hurried to the door. He opened it to find Peter there with his hand raised to knock and nearly groaned. Duty called and Simon knew it was an important one. It would save the king’s life, but more importantly, it would save Ilsabeth’s.

“Come in then,” he said, and went back to his chair to sit down.

“I hope I dinnae look as ragged as ye do,” said Peter as he sat in the chair facing Simon.

Looking his friend over, Simon said, “Aye, I think ye do. Do ye have anything?”

“Weel, Henry is certainly in the town. ‘Tis proving difficult to track the mon, however. We lost a mon last night, name of Frazer. He was following Henry round the taverns and ended up dead in an alley near where Henry was last seen taking his pleasure with a tavern maid.”

“How was he killed?”

Peter grimaced. “Throat cut but I think he may have welcomed it by then. He was slowly mutilated, his mouth gagged so tightly I doubt anyone e’en heard him while he screamed. If he was tortured for information, they must have had to tug that gag off now and then to hear his answers.”

“Do ye think he talked?”

“I would have to say aye but I hate to demean his death. ‘Tis just that he had to have been in such agony he could have said anything and everything without truly kenning he was doing it.”

“Henry is verra good at that.”

“So ye think he did that to Frazer?”

“From what ye describe, aye. Thank ye for nay telling me all the ways my brother hurt the poor mon. I have seen it but that was years ago and I suspect he has perfected the skill by now. So what did Frazer have knowledge of?”

“Nay much at all. I still moved David to another place. He went verra willingly when I told him why I was doing it. He is terrified of your brother.”

“For a fool he can show surprising touches of a sharp wit.” Simon lightly drummed his fingers on the table. “I am thinking I need to move the children away from here.”

“Aye, I think that might be a good idea. I hate to think that any mon would hurt children just to get at a mon but your brother isnae like any mon I have e’er dealt with.” Peter shook his head. “I listened to your warnings, but I think I just put them aside, mayhap e’en thought they were the memories of a bullied child. But seeing what was done to poor Frazer made it all too easy to ken that Henry is a verra dangerous mon.”

“Send the children to Tormand and Morainn. Be verra sure no one is following ye and warn them of who may be hunting them. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“Nay, Morainn says to get them to her tonight. Have MacBean and Old Bega come as weel,” said Tormand as he walked into the room.

“What has Morainn seen?” asked Simon.

“That the children need to be hidden away.” Tormand frowned. “She said they will become both a weapon and a tragedy if they stay here.”

“Does that make any sense?” asked Peter.

“In a way,” replied Simon. “I think she means they can be used to make someone do what they–or he–wants. Or someone wants to kill them or use them as bait. I suspicion they are to be bait. For me or for Ilsabeth. So, aye, we will take them to your place tonight.”

“MacBean and Old Bega will be enough help for that,” said Tormand. “Morainn says ye must go to see Ilsabeth and quickly. She says Ilsabeth kens something verra important.”

“What could Ilsabeth ken? She has been imprisoned in the dungeon for two days. There is naught one can learn down there except how to keep the rats at bay.”

“I just tell ye what I am told. Wheesht, Simon, ye ken as weel as I do that poor Morainn cannae always understand what she sees, that ‘tis more often just pictures and some words. And Ilsabeth needs ye to come to her because she has important information. Morain said Ilsabeth spoke to her in the visions. Ilsabeth said, ‘Find a way, Simon. Please...’”

“Please find a way to come to me,” Simon finished, and suddenly knew what had ripped him out of a sound sleep. Ilsabeth’s fear and grief. She was terrified of someone. What he had felt had not been just the terror some can suffer when put in the dungeon. This had far-reaching consequences.

“Ye heard it.” Tormand looked at Simon with a faint smile. “Mayhap ye have a gift.”

“Mayhap ‘tis Ilsabeth who does. Coming from the family she does, it shouldnae be a surprise.”

“That is true. I think whate’er has frightened her or made her so urgent to see ye caused her to, weel, send out a call. Doubt she even kens that she did it. But ye say it was what woke ye and Morainn says it was clear in her vision. Go and get yourself presentable for court while we get those poor bairns out of their nice warm beds and take them to Morainn.”

Simon clapped Tormand on the back as he hurried out of the room to go and get ready for court. He was washed, shaved, and dressed so quickly he briefly worried if he had forgotten something. When he hurried back down the stairs he met with the others, Tormand holding a sleepy Elen and Peter holding a wary Reid. Simon went and kissed each one on the cheek. Elen had returned his kiss with a loud, somewhat wet one of her own before turning her attention to charming Tormand. Reid allowed the kiss but grabbed Simon by his hair to stop him from walking away.

“Reid, ye shouldnae do that,” he said as he untangled the child’s fingers.

“Why are ye giving us away?” Reid asked. “Isnae Ilsabeth coming back?”

“Nay!” Simon took Reid from Peter’s arms and, holding the child close, stepped away from the others so that Elen could not overhear them. “Nay, I am not giving ye away. Ye ken weel that this is a dangerous time, aye?”

“Aye, so we should stay with ye to make sure ye are safe.”

“Reid, the mon who is putting us all in danger isnae like those soldiers ye tried to stop from taking Ilsabeth. He is like the one who held a knife to Elen’s throat but even worse than that. Tormand’s wife, Morainn, has dreams and most of them tell us things that will be, but that can also be changed by acting wisely. She sent Tormand here because she said ye must come to them tonight.”

“Because this really bad mon might come here to hurt Elen?”

Simon opened his mouth to say the bad man would hurt Reid, too, but abruptly saw the way to get the child to do as he should with no more complaint. “Aye, and mayhap e’en MacBean and Old Bega. Ye dinnae think I am giving them away, do ye?”

“Nay. But ye will come and get us when the danger is gone, aye?”

“Aye, as soon as it is safe again.” “Ye swear?”

“I swear that ye arenae being given away and that ye will see us again. Come, lad, do ye think Ilsabeth would let me give ye away e’en if I wanted to?” He was pleased to see Reid smile. “Now back to Peter here and do as they tell ye so that ye can get to Tormand’s safely.”

They left the house as secretly as possible, but Simon still kept a close watch for anyone following them. If Henry had already decided to hurt the children as Morainn’s vision implied, he would have some men watching for them at the house. Simon watched the others until they were out of sight, constantly sweeping his gaze over all the hiding places someone could use while they tried to follow people. He was just about to turn away when he saw a slight movement in a small alcove between two old crooked houses. A moment later a man slipped out of the niche and hurried along the same path Peter and Tormand had taken his family.

His family, he thought, as he slipped his knife from its sheath and crept out of the house to follow the man he had seen. The word fit, rolled from his tongue with ease. It was the threat to his family that had him creeping behind a man, his knife ready to be used to kill.

Just as he drew close enough to grab the man, his prey turned around. Simon hesitated because he recognized his old childhood friend from Lochan-corrie. “Ye are leaving the chase too early, Wallace,” he said. “And ye cannae think that Henry will believe ye lost them. Ye were always the best of trackers, e’en as a child.”

“Simon?”

The tall, young man with thick, curly, red hair lowered the knife he had held in the ready to strike Simon. Simon took it from the man’s shaking hands. The Wallace he recalled would never have gotten mixed up in such things as treason and murder. He had been a gentle boy who loved animals, a risky love around Henry.