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“I cannae see any sentries on the wall above. We must make a run for it,” Murdina whispered, taking Kin by the hand.
“I see no one,” he replied, glancing up to the battlements, and wasting no time, the two of them hurried towards the kitchen door.
They held their breath and hid in the shadows, waiting for a cry of alarm from above. But only silence. Murdina breathed a sigh of relief and turned the kitchen door handle, which creaked open–it was always left unlocked for the servants to enter in the early morning from their quarters above the stables. The door opened into a long corridor, with storerooms off either side. And at the far end, Murdina could see the faint glow of the fires from the kitchen. All was quiet, and they crept forward, the door swinging shut behind them.
“This way,” Murdina whispered, and she led Kin along the corridor, turning just before they entered the kitchens to take the staircase which led up to the floors above.
“What if she will not come with us? What if she is taken in by Iver and Murdoch?” Kin asked.
“She is foolish, but she is nae so foolish as that,” Murdina replied.
She was certain her sister would see sense. There would not be time to explain it all, but given all which Murdina had discovered, there was no doubting the truth of her story. If Freya married Iver Doherty, she would be merely a pawn in bringing down the Jacobite cause, an unwitting betrayer of her own father and clan. They had reached the upper gallery, along which lay Freya’s chambers, and Murdina paused, listening for any sound of a guard or night watchman.
“It is strange how easy this has been,” Kin whispered, but Murdina shook her head.
“Let us see it as good fortune,” she replied, pushing open the door from the staircase onto the gallery.
The portraits of her ancestors stared down at them with what Murdina hoped were approving looks. She was working for a noble cause, and while the Jacobite rebellion had never been close to her heart, she would fight to the death to defend the honor of her clan and protect her family. If the two causes were entwined, then so be it.
“Where now?” Kin asked, and Murdina counted the doors.
Her sister’s chambers were third on the left, and now they came to the door, pausing and glancing at one another as Murdina took a deep breath.
“Let me speak to her–she will think ye have bewitched me with yer lies,” she said, smiling at Kin, who stifled a laugh.
“Then I hope ye shall convince her otherwise,” he said, as Murdina now knocked gently at the door.
She tried to turn the handle and found it was locked, but from inside, she heard movement, and her sister’s voice now called out in surprise.
“Who… who is there?” she asked.
“Tis’ Murdina, Freya. Open the door, quickly; there is nay time to lose,” Murdina called back.
Footsteps now, and the key was turned in the lock. The door opened, and Freya’s anxious face stared out in amazement, illuminated by a candle she held aloft.
“Murdina? What are ye doin’ here, and… oh!” she exclaimed, seeing Kin standing next to her sister.
“Tis’ all right, there is nae much time to explain. Ye must come with us; ye are in great danger,” Murdina said, as Freya’s eyes grew wide and fearful.
“But… he abducted ye, he forced ye away. What are ye doin’ with him?” she demanded, backing away into the room.
“Nay, tis’ nae like that, Freya. Listen… there is a terrible plot afoot, and if we daenae do somethin’, many lives will be lost. Ye must listen to me…” she said, but Freya was shaking her head, her hands trembling.
“Please, Freya. You must understand. The plot concerns your marriage to Iver. He is not who you think he is. Your father believes you are marrying a man loyal to the Jacobite cause, but the very opposite is true. At this very moment, the castle is filled with men loyal, not to the Jacobite cause, but to the very enemy your father opposes–the Hanoverian pretender,” Kin said.
“Tis’ ye who are the traitor. I will nae listen to this–ye abduct my sister, and now ye have turned her mind to nonsense,” Freya replied.
She had backed right into the room now, and she snatched up a poker from beside the hearth, pointing it at them both, her hands trembling.
“Listen, Freya, ye must understand. We know Iver is a traitor, just as Murdoch is. Kin has regained his memory. There is a network of spies loyal to the Jacobite cause and dozens of documents sent from the south to prove what is said. Ye are in great danger–why dae ye think we have risked so much to come and rescue ye?” Murdina said.
Freya faltered for a moment, still holding the poker up in front of her.
“I… but I daenae understand. I am betrothed to Iver, the marriage is arranged, tis’ to take place on the morrow,” she said, and Murdina’s eyes grew wide.
“Tomorrow? Then we are only just in time. Come, we must hurry. We shall get ye to safety. Cillian is ridin’ north to bring reinforcements,” she said.
“Cillian? Another traitor. He has been banished,” Freya retorted.
