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CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Kin barely slept that night. They had returned to the inn late into the night, letting themselves in through the kitchen and making their way quietly back upstairs. Once they were safely in their room, Kin had barred the door, and the two of them had laid down to sleep. Murdina had clung to him, fearful, he knew, for her family after all they had discovered. Kin remembered everything now–the face of Murdoch McGill, the horror of the fire, his own powerlessness to prevent the tragedy which had brought him into the order of the knot and the influences of the spy ring.
It was as though he had been told a great story all at once and was now trying to fit the pieces together. His memory was restored, but it remained fragmented and confused. Pieces lay here and there, waiting to be resolved into one. He could remember the fire, the devastation of the castle, the sad day of the funeral when his parents and sisters were laid to rest. Tears welled up in his eyes, those forgotten feelings now rising to the surface and filling him with fresh anger. He wanted revenge. He would have revenge.
And then there was everything which had happened since–the voyage to England, the years he had spent in London and at court. He had been trusted, a member of many an inner circle. But all the while, his purpose had been singular: to prove the case against Murdoch McGill, the traitor who lay at the heart of the Jacobite cause. He had known it in his heart–a thought so deeply ingrained that even the loss of his memory had not prevented him from accusing Murdoch of that which was the truth. But his lack of facts had allowed the traitor to slip away.
“Curse him,” Kin muttered, rising from the bed, and crossing to the window.
A dull, gray light was cast over the cobbled square, the sea an inky gray below, lapping at the rocks. The storm had blown itself out, though the last of its tail still hung over the island–brooding clouds threatening further rain. Kin glanced back at Murdina, who was sleeping peacefully, or so it seemed. She had received a terrible shock the night before, and her dreams were surely filled with terrible possibilities. But there was one memory which Kin was glad of, or rather, a memory he was glad not to possess. He knew now that no woman had previously stolen his heart. There was no one waiting for him, no love which had been his. He was free, and his feelings for Murdina were certain.
They had grown–waxed and waned according to his own self-doubt. But of all the people he had encountered since finding himself washed up on the shore of the Mull of Kilchurn, Murdina was the only one who had trusted him completely. He had not known love before–he knew that now. But the feelings in his heart, the tenderness he felt towards her, the passion she aroused in him, the desire to possess her–all of it brought him closer to the thought of love. He was in love with Murdina, and though the obstacles would be many, Kin was determined to see their mission, now so intimately entwined, realized together.
“Kin!” Murdina exclaimed, sitting up with a start and banging her head on the edge of the alcove.
“You are all right–a bad dream, just like I had,” he said, coming to sit next to her on the bed.
“Aye… I was dreamin’ that… my sister. We were too late,” she said, but Kin smiled and put his arm around, hoping to reassure her.
“You only worry because you know. Iver knows nothing of what we know, and Murdoch will still believe my memory gone. They will consider us mere fugitives, and they will be in no hurry to enact their plans. Slowly, but surely–that is the way of a traitor,” he said, and Murdina nodded.
“But I cannae help but fear for the danger that looms over them,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Then that is why we shall make all haste south–we will take the first ship or boat which leaves, whether it will take us as far as the Mull of Kilchurn or only across to Lerwise. You will feel better once we are on the move,” he said, and Murdina nodded.
“If only there was some way of gettin’ a message to my sister,” she said, but Kin shook his head.
“And have it intercepted? No, you must think less like a sword master and more like a spy. Surprise will be our weapon. Your father considers me the traitor since it is I who has abducted you, and he will not easily be dissuaded of that. No, we must come on them by surprise and tell our story together,” he replied.
“Tis’ strange to think our mission is one now. I had feared we would soon go our separate ways,” she said, and he smiled at her.
“Fate has seen differently,” he replied, and he leaned forward to kiss her, their lips lingering together for a moment, just as a knock came at the door.
“This was left for ye this mornin’ by that strange man Gilroy MacFlinn. It means nothin’ to me, but he seemed to think it was important,” the landlord said after Kin had opened the door to him.
It was the ring that Gilroy had been wearing the night before– engraved with the symbol of the knot, the symbol of the order of spies. Kin nodded, thanking the landlord, before turning to Murdina and holding out the ring in the palm of his hand.
“Why has he entrusted this with me?” he asked, feeling confused as to why the spymaster should hand over such an important object.
“Well, tis’ obvious,” she replied, “the mission is yers, and the ring is proof of who ye are. Along with the letters, it proves the truth. Come, we should get goin’–the fishermen are already gatherin’ at the harborside.”
* * *
Murdina was anxious to be on the move. Her dreams had been filled with thoughts of the dreadful possibility which might be. Freya was too naïve to consider Iver Doherty anything other than a friend. Whatever he said, she would lap up, and their father was too eager to see them married to question a man such as Iver over his loyalties. It made Murdina angry to think of these men and their betrayal–the arrogance with which Murdoch had behaved towards her, his self-confidence. She would gladly see him swinging from the gibbet for his treachery.
Having taken a simple breakfast of porridge and milk, they settled their bill with the landlord and made their way to the harborside. There was little point in maintaining their cover story now–they had all they needed– and they let it be known that they were seeking passage on a ship going south or the services of a fisherman who would row them across the channel to Lerwise. At first, the fishermen seemed reluctant, but several became interested when Murdina opened her purse and showed them that a price could be negotiated.
“I can take ye to Lerwise for three pennies,” one of them said.
“And I am to fish off Creeston if ye wish to make a longer voyage?” another said.
At last, they settled on the boat going south to Creeston. From there, it was but a few miles further south to the Mull of Kilchurn, and they could easily secure horses for the final leg of their journey. With the agreement made, Murdina and Kin clambered down into the fisherman’s boat, which bobbed in the harbor, the sea calm, and a fair wind blowing along the channel.
“Look, Kin, there is Gilroy,” Murdina said, tugging at Kin’s sleeve and pointing up onto the harbor wall.
The cloaked figure of the spymaster stood there, and he raised his hand as if in a blessing.
“Daenae mind him. He is a strange one and make nay mistake. Gilroy MacFlinn, a crofter–mad, if ye ask me,” the fisherman, whose name was Alcuin, said, shaking his head as he cast off.
