Highland Angel (2 page)

“Ye say your husband tried to drown ye?” he pressed, hoping conversation would cool his blood.

“Aye. I was wed to Sir Roderick MacIye when I was but fifteen, near five years ago. I did try to change my father’s mind about his choice, for though Sir Roderick is pleasant to look upon, he made me uneasy. But, when I couldnae offer any sound reason for why I didnae wish to marry the mon, my father wouldnae heed me. I finally ceased to fight, kenning that my family sore needed the money Sir Roderick gave them. Poor harvests and other miseries had left us in sore danger of starving come the winter. So, convincing myself ’twas what my clan needed, I donned the cloak of noble martyrdom and wed the fool.”

“But the union didnae fair weel?”

“Nay. It ne’er had a chance.” Kirstie helped herself to some of the meat pie, still too hungry to care much that her audience was somewhat impatiently waiting for more information.

“Because of ye or him? Or, are ye barren?”

After taking a deep drink of ale, she replied, “Because of him and there was ne’er any chance of children.” She sighed and shook her head. “Having bairns of my own was the one hope I had of enduring that marriage if naught else could be made of it. The mon wasnae honest with me or my kin. He kenned there was verra little chance he could or would give me bairns. ’Tis all part of why he wishes to kill me.”

“Because he is impotent? I cannae see that a mon would kill anyone to keep that secret, shaming though it is.”

“Oh, Roderick isnae impotent. Nay with everyone, leastwise. I thought ’twas just me.” She grimaced and began to cut up an apple. “I am a scrawny thing and was e’en more so at fifteen. Young as I was, I decided he must have just wanted the lands I had inherited from my mother. It was a while ere I gained enough knowledge to ken that what I looked like should nay matter. That was when I began to look more closely at what was happening around me. It shames me to think I held myself blind and ignorant for almost three years, sulking o’er my sad lot like some spoiled bairn.”

“Ye were verra young,” Payton said, but she just shrugged off his attempt to console her. “Why didnae ye return to your family, seek an annulment?”

“And tell all the world my husband couldnae abide the bedding of me? Foolish it was, but pride gagged me. After almost three years, howbeit, I was thinking on it, for my husband is young and healthy. I began to see that I could be condemned to this empty marriage until I was too old to have bairns, tied for near all my life to a mon who seemed interested only in punishing me for every tiny real or imagined slight. Ere I acted upon that thought, I discovered the truth.”

He watched as she finished off the apple and reached for another piece of bread. “And the truth is? He likes men?”

“Nay. Children.”

Payton sat up straight, a chill running through his body. He did not want to hear this. It stirred sad, ugly memories. He had been a pretty child, a pretty young man as well. Although he had escaped any true abuse, he had been made painfully aware of the dark side of people at too young an age. A part of him wanted Kirstie to leave and not draw him into this particular mess, but a far larger part of him was prepared to battle such evil to the death.

“Wee boys?” he asked.

“And wee lasses,” she replied. “Mostly the laddies, though. E’en now, I am oft mistaken for a child, and I have few womanly curves. I now believe that he thought he could mate with me, breed a child or two. Once I kenned the truth, I spent hours in the chapel thanking God that Roderick couldnae bed me, for he would surely have visited his sickness upon my bairns.” Kirstie sensed how taut Payton had become and was suddenly, sadly, aware that such a beautiful man had probably been a beautiful child or pretty youth. “In truth, if he had favored men, I could have accepted that. The church and some laws condemn it, but, if ’tis two grown men, I feel ’tis none of my business. I was willing to try to come to some agreement with Roderick, keep his secret but also gain my freedom so that I might seek out a true marriage.”

“Are ye certain ’tis children he uses?
Verra
certain?”

“Aye, verra certain.” Kirstie took a bracing drink. “I began to understand the whispers swirling about him and was determined to seek out the truth. I had thought the silence, e’en the sadness, of the children about the keep was due to the brutality so carelessly meted out. Then I truly noticed how Roderick keeps the wee ones e’er close, that near all the children are pretty, and, sometimes, a child is about for a wee while, then gone. I soon recognized that all those touches, caresses, he gave the wee ones were nay paternal. I began to try and catch him when he thought no one was looking. I found a way to spy upon him in his solar and his bedchamber.” She quickly had another long drink. “I dinnae think I can say what I saw. It haunts my dreams. I dinnae ken where I found the sanity to hold fast, to nay just rush in and kill the bastard, but I did. That might have failed and I would have been quickly silenced. E’en one child would nay have been aided then.”

“Ye did right. Ye could nay be sure ye could kill him and get ye and the child away to safety. Have ye proof of his evil?”

“I have my word and the word of a few children. Some of his people ken all; most of them just guess. They are all firmly under his boot heel, however, too afeared for their lives to act. There are two within his home who give me some aid, but only some, and only when the child’s life is threatened. I tried to gain support amongst the common folk, for he steals or buys their bairns, but I have ne’er had the freedom to do much at all. The
few who cared about the fate of the children could help verra little. I have tried to spread dark rumors about him so that fewer people would send him their lads for training. That seems to work, but it only causes him to turn more to the children of the poor upon his own lands or from the towns where the king’s court is held. The children of the poor suffer the most. Not only does Roderick have no fear of retribution for how he treats them, but, once in his hands, they are forgotten and so he uses them to feed his other sickness.”

“How much sicker could he be?”

“He gains joy, pleasure, from inflicting pain and death. Now and then he is, weel, seized by an urge to kill.”

Payton drank down his ale and quickly refilled his tankard. It was not hard to believe that Sir Roderick found pleasure with young boys, for he had learned of such things long ago. What Kirstie told him, however, stretched the boundaries of any sane man’s belief. It seemed impossible for a man to continuously abuse and murder children yet never be discovered.

“Ye doubt my tale,” Kirstie said after watching his changing expressions for a moment.

“’Tis difficult,” Payton confessed. “I ken all too weel that some are unusually stirred by the beauty of a child. The child’s own sense of undeserved shame would help keep Sir Roderick’s dark secret. But, for so long? And so completely that he can e’en murder these innocents? And to believe that none of his people would try to speak out or help the bairns?” He sighed and shook his head. “Ye ask me to believe the unbelievable with no proof.”

“Why should I tell such lies?”

“To be rid of an unwanted husband?”

“Then come with me. Mayhap ye need to hear more than my voice.”

Payton nodded and within moments they were slipping through the back streets of the town. Yet again he had to marvel at her ability to move so swiftly, silently, and secretively. He had to work hard to keep up with her and had the lowering feeling that she was not using all her skill in deference to his lack.

They finally stopped at a wretched little house well hidden in the foul warrens the poor were forced to live in. Kirstie abruptly disappeared and Payton was reaching for his sword when he felt a tug upon his ankle. He looked down to find her peering up at him from a hole in the crumbling foundation of the house. Cautiously, he followed her, although it was a tight squeeze. Once inside, she covered the hole with a board, then lit a torch revealing a damp, long-unused storage area. The light also revealed the wary faces of five children.

“All is weel, my sweetlings,” Kirstie said as she pulled a small sack from beneath the cloak Payton had lent her. “I have some food.”

Payton suspected Kirstie had cleared the table while he had gone to find cloaks for both of them and weapons for himself. Despite the rough platform made to keep the children off the floor, the blankets and other small comforts, it was a sad, unhealthy place. The fact that Kirstie so clearly cared for the children and they obviously made no attempt to leave this dismal place added the weight of truth to her dark tale.

He studied the children—four boys and one girl. All were beautiful in the way only a child can be. Despite their interest in the food Kirstie gave them, however, they
watched him. The fear and wariness upon their faces struck him to the core. He took a step closer to them and the largest of the boys immediately shifted so that he was between Payton and the other children, his expression turning nearly feral. The little girl began to cry silently.

“Nay, my loved ones,” soothed Kirstie. “He is nay the enemy.”

“He is a mon,” said the oldest boy.

“He is Sir Payton Murray and no danger to ye, Callum. I swear it. He found it hard to believe all I told him. I brought him here so that ye may help him see the truth and then he will help us.”

“He is willing to kill that monster?” asked the little girl. “He will kill the bad mon who hurt me so that I can go outside again? Can he get my brother back?”

“Ah, nay, Moira. Your brother is with the angels.”

“Aye, that bastard cut—” hissed Callum.

“Little Robbie is with the angels,” Kirstie said, interrupting the boy quietly but firmly.

Callum looked at Payton. “Ye want me to tell ye all that swine did?”

There was such anger and hate in the boy that Payton was surprised he did not shake apart from the force of it. “Nay. ’Tis said I was a verra bonny child.”

“Then ye ken what I would say.”

“Aye, though, through God’s mercy, I was saved.”

“Are ye going to save us, sir?” asked Moira.

“Are ye going to kill the bastard?” demanded Callum.

“Callum,” said Kirstie, “Sir Roderick is a mon of power and wealth. I have told ye, we cannae just kill him, nay matter how much he deserves it. Proof of his evil is needed and it takes time and skill to gather such proof.”

Callum kept his gaze fixed upon Payton. “Weel, sir?”

Payton held Callum’s gaze, almost feeling the torment and pain the boy suffered. “Aye, I will kill him.”

“Sir Payton,” Kirstie protested softly.

“It may take days,” Payton continued, ignoring her, “weeks, e’en months, but I will dig out every foul secret the mon has. I will rob him of his allies, of places to hide. I will expose his evil to the world. I will break him, corner him, haunt his every step.”

“And then?” asked Callum.

“I will kill him. As of this moment Sir Roderick MacIye is a walking dead mon.”

Little Alan trembled in her arms as Kirstie led them all through the dark, rank streets back to Payton’s home, Payton and the other four children following at her heels. She wished she could do more than hold him close and rub his thin back, but silence was necessary. Kirstie also wished she could have discussed the moving of the children with Payton first, but a dark hidey-hole with five frightened children listening was no place to discuss such things. She tried to calm her unease by telling herself they could always find another hiding place if needed.

Kirstie realized they must have reached an area Payton recognized, for he quietly took the lead. She was surprised at how readily Moira had accepted him, even letting him carry her. The boys stayed close to her, however, revealing their lack of trust in any man. Callum watched Payton as if ready to tear Moira out of his arms at the slightest hint of any wrong. When Payton led them in through the rear of his house, startling Wee Alice and Strong Ian at their meal, Callum stayed taut and glowering near the door. Kirstie knew the boy would require gentle, patient handling.

“Sir?” Wee Alice asked even as she rose from the rough kitchen table to set kettles of water over the fire.

“These children need a safe place to hide,” Payton told her. “This bonny lass is Moira, the lad snarling near the door is Callum, m’lady holds Alan, David stands to her right, and William to her left. Baths, clean clothes, food, and beds. In that order.”

“Aye,” agreed Strong Ian as he stood up and looked pained when all the children backed away. “I will find the clothes, then ready the beds. All in one room?”

“Aye,” all the children replied.

“Fair enough,” he murmured, and left.

“I suspect Callum will be wanting a private place to bathe himself.” Payton looked at the tense child who curtly nodded, then looked at the others. “The rest of ye can be private with him or have one of us lend ye a hand.”

After a lot of discussion, it was decided the children would bathe in the kitchen with the women to help them and with a very large sword close at hand. Once Strong Ian brought the clean clothes, Payton led the man to the great hall and poured them each an ale. Slowly, fighting to control his anger, Payton told the man everything from the moment Kirstie had approached him.

“Ye believe it all?” said Ian after a long, weighted silence.

“I believed a mon would visit his lust upon a child.” replied Payton. “But, as the tale grew more vile, my belief wavered. Nay more. I could see the black truth in their eyes.”

“And so ye will kill this mon.”

“’Tis my plan. Sadly, I cannae just go and slowly, verra painfully, end his miserable life as I would like to.”

“Could cause a wee problem or two.”

“Or two. Proof is needed, more proof than the word of a dissatisfied wife and five poor bairns.”

“Servants? His men?”

“Too afraid, too much a part of his crimes, or of his own ilk, mayhap. One can only count on aid from some of them once they are sure he will fall, once he is too weak to be a threat to them.”

Strong Ian rubbed a finger over the jagged scar on his left cheek. “Going to get help from your family?”

Payton sighed and sprawled in his chair. “Nay yet. I need to ken just how many pitfalls there will be in the pursuit of this swine. A few MacIyes are verra weel placed and can wield some impressive power. They are also connected by blood or marriage to other verra powerful people. We Murrays and our allies are nay without power ourselves, but I cannae see the gain in mustering it until there is proof to wield as a weapon. He has already made one error.”

“Nay making sure that lass was dead.”

“True,” Payton agreed and briefly smiled, “but I was thinking on the fact that he has inflicted his sickness upon lads of good family. Since there has been no outcry, and he still lives, one must assume shame or fear keeps the poor lads silent. We need to try and find one or more whose sense of justice or need for revenge can o’ercome those feelings. There may need to be some lies told, some deceptions used, as fear of having others discover the truth may still tie the tongues of the better-born victims.”

“Mayhap the truth can be used to stir their kinsmen to act, yet the world and its mother can be led to believe they act because they discovered what evil he visits upon the poor.”

“Ah, thus allowing them to hide a need for revenge behind a banner of righteousness and moral outrage. Good thought. Ah, weel come, m’lady,” Payton greeted Kirstie as she cautiously entered the hall and he stood to assist her in sitting at the table. “The bairns are abed?” he asked as they all sat down, Strong Ian seating himself across from Kirstie.

“Aye. Since they had only recently eaten what I had brought them, their meal was a quick one,” she replied. “The baths also made them sleepy. Aye, and so did being warm again. Wee Alice took food and drink up to their room, thinking one or two of them may wake in the night feeling a pang of hunger. She insisted on making herself a pallet near the door, which seemed to comfort the children. And Callum sleeps near the window with a large knife close at hand.” She helped herself to some bread and cheese as Payton served her some wine.

“How old is Callum?”

“Eleven. He was to be killed, for he was swiftly outgrowing Roderick’s interest. Aye, and he was rapidly gaining the guile and size to make his anger a true danger. For once, I caught word of the plans for the boy ere they could be carried out and helped him to hide. I think that is when Roderick began to become suspicious of me. Helping and hiding Moira sealed my fate.”

“How long have ye been doing this?”

“Two years, more or less.”

“And ye have only been able to save five bairns?” He saw her wince and quickly added, “I dinnae condemn. If ye had saved but one, ’twould be a worthy thing. I but try to grasp some idea of how difficult it may be to end this.”

“Verra difficult. In a wee bit over two years I have saved but ten children. Two were taken back by their families, for they truly cared for them and had thought they were giving their bairns a chance at a better life. I helped them get away to my father’s lands. My brother Eudard helped slip them into the village with little notice taken. Our lands have sheltered others and our people ken the need to act as if the new ones in their
midst are nay so new.”

“Ah, so your family aids ye?”

“Only Eudard. He agreed that, for now, ’tis wise to keep the others ignorant.” She smiled faintly. “They are, weel, emotional, and if told, would approach this trouble bellowing and with swords swinging. My family, my clan, would be swiftly decimated if they turned the ire of Roderick’s kinsmen upon themselves. Eudard and my Aunt Grizel helped hide away the other three children. They were to come for a visit and take away these children, but Eudard broke his leg. When I realized Roderick was now certain I kenned too much, I sent young Michael Campbell to Eudard to tell him to stay away and that I would get word to him when I could. I also told Michael to find some way to stay with my kin, or to hide somewhere. He was close to me and often my messenger, so he, too, will be in danger, suspected of kenning far too much.”

“But, he is of good family,” Payton said. “Would Roderick risk the lad’s kinsmen asking too many questions?”

“Lads die all the time,” Kirstie replied in a sad voice. “Howbeit, kenning that his life is threatened may be enough to make Michael finally turn to his family. I have spent many long months trying to convince him to speak out, but fear of Roderick’s retribution, doubts that he would e’er be heeded, and e’en fear that his own family will turn from him, see him as soiled or the like, stills his tongue. I believe I have nearly banished the lad’s sense of shame, his sad belief that somehow ’tis his own fault. Eudard will continue to try and persuade him to speak out. ’Tis wrong, but Michael’s word will carry more weight than Callum’s or the others’.”

Payton nodded and took a long drink of wine. He needed to look away from her, to regain some control, and ease his fascination with the ever-changing shades of her smoky grey eyes. Watching her far-too-tempting mouth was not helping him hold fast to his concentration, either.

“Can any of these children seek shelter with their kin?” he finally asked.

“Nay,” Kirstie replied. “Alan, David, and William are orphans. Roderick is considered a kind and generous benefactor by those who take on the care of such waifs. He treats such places as his own private stable. If any of those who give him such abandoned bairns ken his evil, the weighty purse he sets in their hands silences all doubt. Moira and her brother Robbie were sold by their mother. The mon she lived with was of Roderick’s ilk and she believed she was saving them. I sought her out, but she had died, beaten to death by her lover when he realized what she had done. Callum is a child of the gutter, a near-feral child. If he had any kin, they deserted him so long ago he has no clear recollection of them.”

“Did Callum see wee Robbie die?”

“Nay. He kens nay more than I—that some children are, weel, hurt, then gone, and we ken where some of the bodies may be buried. Wee Robbie tried to keep Roderick from Moira. He was sorely abused for that. I found him in a tiny, dark room, still alive, but had to leave him for a short while to prepare a way out. When I returned, the lad was gone.”

“Could he have escaped?” asked Strong Ian.

“Mayhap,” Kirstie replied, then shook her head. “I dare not hope nor give Moira such hope. He was a wee, underfed lad of but seven years and sorely injured. The only way out was through the tunnel I used to reach him, yet I cannae see how he would have
kenned it was there. And, it has been near to a fortnight since he disappeared.” She tried and failed to smother a yawn.

“Ye are nearly asleep on your feet,” Payton said quietly. “Go to bed. Get some rest.”

“But, shouldnae we make plans?”

“We will. In the morning.”

Kirstie nodded and stood up. “Aye, I dinnae think I could recall much anyway. Where am I to sleep? With the children?”

“Nay. The room across from them. I suspect Wee Alice has set out a night shift for ye.”

“Where do ye get all these clothes? I can understand the women’s, though, remembering the fair Lady Fraser, I am surprised ye have any small enough to fit me so weel. But why so many clothes for the bairns?”

Payton almost smiled at the cross note in her voice when she spoke of the women’s clothes. “My family uses this house, too. All the clothes are ones they have left behind, either apurpose or have simply forgotten. I was beginning to think I should give them to the poor, but ’tis glad I am I hesitated.”

“Oh.” It had been a somewhat rude question, but Kirstie decided she was simply too weary to be embarrassed. “Just one last word. I suspect ye dinnae really need to be told, but ye must tread warily around the children. ’Twill be a while ere they feel they can trust any mon, I think. Especially Callum.”

“Aye,” agreed Strong Ian. “That one is like a cornered animal and now he has a knife.”

“Oh, dear,” Kirstie murmured. “Sorry. I just thought he would rest easier.”

“He will. ’Twas a good thing to give him. Mayhap he will let me show him how to use it.”

“Do ye think that is wise?”

“Aye. I cannae think of any lad who more needs to ken that he can protect himself.”

Kirstie was still considering that when she crawled into bed a short while later. She murmured in delight as she snuggled into the bed beneath the warm blankets and smoothed her hand over the fine linen night shift she had been given. The fact that the children were enjoying similar comforts pleased her immensely.

As she relaxed and let sleep creep over her, she thought of what Strong Ian had said one last time. He was right. There was little chance that a child of Callum’s age could defeat a fullgrown man and suspected Callum had the wit to know it. And, yet, learning to fight would give him the hope of escape. It could make him feel less helpless. That could only be for the good. Finally giving in to her exhaustion, Kirstie briefly wished there was some way she, too, could lose that chilling sense of being powerless.

“’Tis a sad business,” Strong Ian said the moment Kirstie left.

“Aye, and with no easy or swift route to justice,” said Payton. “There are many ways I could simply kill him, but there are just as many ways my part in his death could be discovered. Without proving his crimes, his evil, that could plunge my family into a bitter feud. I cannae risk that. Such an act could also seriously endanger Lady Kirstie.”

“A brave lass.”

“She is and ’tis clear she cares for the children. She is verra gentle and loving toward them.”

“Which means she has a softness for the bairns, for all children. To discover such evil must trouble her deeply.”

Payton nodded, then frowned slightly. “It does. Do ye think she needs watching, might need to be restrained from acting on her own?”

Strong Ian shrugged. “’Tis possible. ’Twill be a while ere we can make it too dangerous for Sir Roderick to continue his evil ways. The lass appears to be acting wisely, using her wits o’er her heart. Yet, something could happen to make emotion o’erule good sense.”

“A difficulty I understand completely,” murmured Payton. “She must be watched carefully, then. If naught else, she is safe now, for her husband thinks she is dead. She cannae be allowed to succumb to emotion, act rashly, and mayhap lose that shield.”

“It could certainly prove useful at some time, useful in bringing the bastard to justice.”

“True, but that usefulness must be verra clear, the results vital to the cause. She is his wife. The moment Sir Roderick kens that she is alive, he can take her back and no one could stop him. ’Twould be verra easy to make others believe she is naught but an unhappy wife and then anything she says will be ignored. Sadly, the fact that she sought me out will only make it worse. ’Twould be verra easy for Sir Roderick to act the wounded mon, one shamed by an unfaithful wife, or some such tale.”

“Ah, of course,” Strong Ian rubbed his hand over his forehead and then yawned. “It has been a long night. Just tell me what your first move will be and then I will seek my bed.” He frowned. “Without my lass. I ken the bairns need her, but I hope that wanes soon.”