An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (51 page)

Cathy took a deep breath and Iona knew that she was about to step forward and speak to Eachann, when suddenly there was the sound of footsteps. Quietly purposeful they approached the Keep from the other direction. There was the sharp clink of heels on a stone floor growing louder and louder and Iona guessed that someone was crossing the Great Hall.

Desperately she put out her hands and clung to Cathy. Both women pressed themselves close against the buttress so that Iona could feel the sharpness of the roughly hewn stone bruising her skin through the thin material that covered her.

Eachann, who had looked up unexpectedly when he heard the footsteps, suddenly sprang to his feet. Someone came forward into the light of the lantern and Iona saw that it was Lord Niall.

The diamond buttons on his coat of puce satin glimmered and glittered in the light from the lantern. He carried a candlestick of polished silver and the wax trickled thickly and lopsidedly over the stand. His face, dark and satanic, seemed strangely at variance with his powdered hair and the jabot of exquisite lace at his chin.

The very gaiety of his clothes and the sparkle of his jewels seemed out of place because of an aura of virulence and venom about him. It seemed as if Eachann felt this, for he took a step backwards and there was something sheepish, yet apprehensive in his attitude as with lowered head he watched Lord Niall from under his eyebrows.

Lord Niall set his candlestick down on the wooden bench, and then he glanced round, his eyes finally resting on Eachann.

“Has the prisoner asked for anything?” he inquired.

“Nay, m’lawd.”

“Has he called out, attempted to talk with you?”

“Nay, m’lawd.”

“The prisoner is securely housed? It is impossible for him to escape?”

“Aye, m’lawd.”

“I will look for myself.”

Lord Niall walked to the door of the Keep and Iona saw him slide back the wooden shutter of a peephole heavily barred with iron. His Lordship stared through it for some seconds, and then he closed the shutter again.

“Asleep,” he said, “or pretending to be. You are quite certain he has not asked you for anything?”

“Nay, m’lawd.”

“There is always a possibility that a man of that sort might have friends in the neighbourhood or for that matter in the castle itself. If he asks for anyone, be sure to remember the name correctly and bring me word of what he has said first thing in the morning.”

“Aye, m’lawd.”

Lord Niall put his hand to his chin and appeared to be considering something. After quite a long pause he said,

“You have the key safely?”

“Aye, m’lawd.”

Eachann drew it from his belt and held it up. Lord Niall put out his hand.

“I think it would be safer if I relieved you of this. As I have already said there is always the chance of someone trying to rescue a Jacobite.”

He took the key and moved once again up the steps to the door of the Keep. He tried it in the lock, and having made certain that the door was firmly shut, slipped the key into the pocket of his coat.

“Keep a good watch, Eachann,” he admonished, and picking up his candle he walked off in the direction from which he had come.

Iona and Cathy heard his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until at last they could hear them no more. Eachann sat down on the bench and took up his knife and the piece of wood on which he had been working. He looked at it, gave a great yawn, stretched himself and put down both the knife and the carving. He yawned again, his breath expelling itself in noisy gusts. It was then that Cathy stepped forward.

She had advanced several yards towards him before Eachann, opening his eyes after his tremendous yawn, caught sight of her. His mouth remained open in a ludicrous expression of astonishment. Cathy advanced steadily until she was standing beside him, then she smiled.

“I was sorry for ye doon here in the cold, Eachann.”

“Hoots, Cathy, but ye gied me an’ awfu’ fright,” he exclaimed. “I thocht ye was a ghost comin’ oot o’ the dark!”

“I hae no wish tae scare ye, Eachann,” Cathy answered. “I was only tryin’ tae dae ye a kindness.”

“Aweel, an’ whit sort o’ kindness micht that be?” Eachann asked, catching sight of the bottle.

Cathy held it out to him with a smile.

“Wine?” he queried greedily.

“Aye, an’ guid wine at that,” Cathy answered. “The housekeeper sent me for it, but I was ower long an’ wheen I got back she was fast asleep. It seemed a pity tae waste the wine an’ I thought o’ ye doon here all alane. It will warm ye, for ’tis a cold nicht.”

“That’s awfu’ guid o’ ye, Cathy,” Eachann said. “I wouldna hae expected it o’ ye, indeed I wouldna. Ye hae been reel cruel tae me this twelve month. I swear ye hae e’en turned yer heid awa’ wheen I looked at ye.”

“I have nae doot o’ it,” Cathy said severely. “Ye are tae pleased with yersel, Eachann, that’s what’s wrang with ye. But mind ye, I’m a friend an’ ’tis sorry I am that ye hae tae spend the nicht in a place like this. Upon my saul, it gives me the creeps!”

Eachann looked around him.

“’Tis no whit ye’d ca’ a gey place!”

“Gey?” Cathy echoed. “It is doonrich fearfu’, that’s what it is. Why, I’d as soon spend the nicht in a graveyard.”

“Hoots, I’m no feart,” Eachann laughed.

“Aye, ye’re a brave laddie, I’ll say that for ye,” Cathy said. “But I’ve heard tell that the ghost o’ MacCraggan Mor walks here at nicht. Ye can see his white sporran swingin’ in the darkness an’ his white feathers at the side o’ his bonnet.”

She whispered the last words and her tone was eerie.

Eachann shivered.

“Put a loc’ on yer tongue, Cathy. Tis a fule yell be makin’ o’ me. I’m no supersteetious an’ if MacCraggan Mor iss walkin this nicht, he’ll no harm a puir Heiland laddie.”

“Dinna ye be tae sure o’ that,” Cathy replied sharply. “If MacCraggan Mor ken some o’ the things that happen in the castle, it’s nae wonder he rises frae oot o’ his grave.”

“An’ whit ca’ ye mean by tha’, Cathy?” Eachann asked, but he could not meet her eyes.

“Ye ken full weel, Eachann mon, what I mean,” Cathy said. “Ye an’ Sime an’ those ithers as make friends with the English should be ashamed. I heard tell as yersel’ were seen with ane o’ they redcoats ootside o’ the Fort last Saturday.”

“Gawd’s maircy, but who told ye tha’, Cathy?” Eachann expostulated. “’Twas waitin’ for his Lordship we weer an’ the redcoat but proffered me a wee drappie.”

“Then shame on ye for takin’ it!”

“An’ what harm ca’ tha’ dae?” Eachann asked defiantly.

“That’s for ye tae answer,” Cathy said, “an’ dinna fash tae explain yersel tae me. Keep yer excuses for MacCraggan Mor if he visits ye in the sma’ hours.”

Eachann shivered again.

“Stop bletherin’, Cathy,” he said, “an’ gie us a kiss. ’Tis gratefu’ I am for the wine.”

“Then show yer gratitude by keepin’ yer kisses to yerself,” Cathy retorted. “I maun get back oopstairs. If onyone finds I hae been here, ‘tis a fine talkin’ tae I’d get an’ nae mistak.”

She took a few steps away from him, but Eachann jumped up.

“Nay, Cathy, bide a wee while.”

“I canna,” Cathy said, shaking her head. “Ye wouldna get me sent awa’, Eachann, would ye?”

“Indeed I wouldna, ye wee darlin’,” he answered.

He put out his arms to catch her, but she was too quick for him. She ran a few steps, then stopped and looked back, realising that he was about to follow her. She pointed to the bench.

“Gang back tae yer post, Eachann,” she said. “If there’s trouble brewin’ for me, there wad be far worse trouble frae his Lordship if ye lef’ the prisoner unguarded.”

“Aye, I nae doot o’ that,” Eachann muttered, and his face fell. “But dinna gang awa’.”

“I maun,” she whispered, and she hurried away while he stared after her, torn between his desire to follow and his fear of leaving the Keep.

Cathy swung round the buttress and joined Iona in the shadows. For a moment they were both tense for fear that Eachann might come lumbering down the passage, but duty won and he sat down on his bench. His hand went out towards the bottle of wine. He picked it up, looked at it appreciatively, wetted his lips with his tongue then took a long drink.

It was evidently most enjoyable for he smacked his lips loudly and immediately took another pull at the bottle. Iona and Cathy waited. Iona was conscious now of being intensely cold. She could feel the damp seeping up through the soles of her thin satin shoes, but it was not only the cold that made her fingers seem almost too stiff to move and which kept her so tense that she felt as if she too had turned to stone. Suppose they failed, her mind queried, suppose the laudanum did not work on Eachann, suppose the wine merely revived him or else he dozed so fitfully that he heard them when they approached the Keep?

She knew that Cathy was anxious too, but there was nothing they could do but wait and go on waiting while Eachann drank. At last the bottle was finished, drained to the very last drop and reluctantly he set it down under the bench.

Now he was yawning again, this time drowsily and with not so much vigour. His eyelids were closing, his head nodding a little. His chin touched his chest and startled him so that he awoke with a jerk. He was yawning again, but weakly as if the effort was too much.

It was evidently uncomfortable on the bench for he moved to seat himself on the floor, his back to the wall facing the door of the Keep.

“I’m keepin’ watch,” he said aloud in a slurred, somnolent voice. “I’m keepin’ watch, ghosties or no ghosties.”

His legs were outstretched in front of him, but his head slipped a little sideways, then quite suddenly he keeled over. His head struck the floor, he grunted, pillowed his head in his arms, but did not open his eyes. Slowly his body adjusted itself to a more comfortable position, his knees bent, his back curved.

He gave a sudden snort, which echoed round the walls, and then he was asleep and snoring in the slow, thick manner of someone who has been drugged.

Still Iona and Cathy waited until after about five minutes, reassured by the round of Eachann’s rhythmic snores they crept forward into the light. All the way to the door of the Keep they watched Eachann, but it was obvious that the laudanum had done its work effectively. It would be many hours before he would be troubled by anything.

Iona ran up the steps and fitted the key into the lock. Her hand was shaking and for one awful moment she thought that she had been tricked and that it would not fit. But it was only stiff and with an effort she managed to turn it. Hardly daring to breathe she pushed the heavy door with both hands.

There was a lantern hanging from the roof of a high circular room. The only furniture was a rough wooden couch covered with a blanket. Lying on it apparently asleep was Hector, but as the door opened he sat up, instantly alert. When he saw who stood there, his eyes widened and he sprang to his feet, but did not speak.

“The guard is drugged,” Iona whispered, “but come quickly.”

In answer Hector picked up his belt which he had loosened and which had fallen on the couch. He fastened it round his waist and knelt to tie his shoes. Then he glanced round to be sure he had left nothing behind.

“Ready,” he murmured.

Cathy was waiting in the passage, Hector joined her and Iona locked the door of the Keep. Then all three slipped past the sleeping Eachann to where Cathy had left the lantern. Cathy picked it up.

“Wait here, mistress,” she said in a low voice.

She sped back again to light her little candle from the lantern on Eachann’s bench. It was but a second or two before she joined them, but in that moment Hector had reached out his arms towards Iona and pulled her close. She could feel his heart beating with excitement.

“How did you manage it, you wonderful girl?” he whispered.

“It was the Duke,” Iona replied. “Oh, Hector, I am sure, quite sure, that he is on our side. But we cannot talk here, we must get you away at once.”

“I have no desire to linger,” Hector replied, “but if what you say is true about Arkrae – it’s splendid news.”

Cathy joined them at that moment and without wasting time in further speech they set off quickly down the passage, Cathy leading the way, her lantern bobbing ahead like a will-o-the-wisp. They passed the stairs down which she and Iona had come from the upper floors and about two minutes later came to a door in the outer wall. Here Cathy stopped.

“Ye had best gang oot this way, Mister Hector.”

“ Where does it lead to?” he asked.

“Straight on tae the loch,” she replied. “Ma uncle may be below wi’ his boat but if he’s no theer, can you swim?”

“Like a fish,” Hector replied.

Cathy raised the lantern and Iona saw there were big bolts on the door and a wooden bar stretched across it. It could not have been used for some time, for the bolts were rusty and it took all Hector’s strength to draw them and to lift the bar from the staples. But he managed it, the door swung open and the sharp night air blew in on them.

Iona bent forward and looked out. She gave a muffled exclamation, for Cathy had indeed spoken truly when she said that the door led straight on to the loch. There was below the door a sheer drop of perhaps thirty feet into the still dark water. Cathy raised her lantern and waved it slowly then she drew back into the passage.

“If ma uncle is aboot, he’ll see the light an’ ken ’tis a signal,” she said. “Wait a wee while, Mister Hector, in case he come for ye, but if there’s no sign of him, ye’d best gang swift. Ye maun be far frae here afore the dawn breaks, for his Lordship’ll send his men in search o’ ye.”

“I know that,” Hector answered. “If only I had a horse, I should feel happier.”

“Wheen ye reach the ither side o’ the loch,” Cathy said, “take the path which leads to the south, wheen it branches gang due west. After aboot a mile ye’ll come tae a wee hoose. Ask for Raild the Piper. Tell him who ye are an’ if he canna fund ye a horse, he’ll keep ye safe. Ye can trust him as ye’d trust yer ain mither.”

“Thank you, Cathy,” Hector said, “I shall never forget what you have done for me.”

“Ye’ll wish tae talk wi’ ane anither,” Cathy said. “I’ll wait doon the passage, but ye maunna linger, Mister Hector. Each minute that takes ye awa’ frae the castle is a minute on tae yer life.”