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CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
“And how the mighty have fallen,” the jailer said, slamming the cell door behind Kin.
He had dragged him through the dungeons, hurling insults at him, and now he peered through the bars, holding up a candle that illuminated the sneer on his face.
“You will know the truth soon enough,” Kin replied, but the jailer only shook his head.
“The laird should have listened to me instead of trustin’ those foolish daughters of his. I said ye were a spy. I knew it all along. And now tis’ proved,” he said, a triumphant look coming over his face.
“You know nothing of it. But I warn you, you are in grave danger. You and all men loyal to the Jacobite cause,” Kin replied.
“Aye, from the likes of men like ye. Traitors from the south. Ye are just a Hanoverian pawn, sent here to wreak yer havoc. But with men like Murdoch McGill and Iver Doherty to lead us, the cause is nae lost. We shall see the rightful heir returned and the Hanoverian pretender sent back to his lowland Duchy,” the jailer replied.
“Can ye nae see–we are on the same side. Tis’ ye and the others who have been bewitched. Damn it, man,” Kin cursed, but the jailer only laughed and strode off along the passageway, hurling insults at Kin as he went.
A rat scuttled across the floor, and Kin was left in darkness. He sat down on the low bed, still left over from his previous stay in the dungeons and sighed. It had been a mistake to think they could make their way into the castle unseen, a mistake to think Freya would be so easily convinced, and a mistake to believe that their story would be counted as the truth. He lay down and closed his eyes, picturing Murdina. He should never have involved her in the sorry business–it was to cost her everything, and as he fell into a broken sleep, brought on only by sheer exhaustion, Kin began to despair.
* * *
“Murdina, wake up. Tis’ the weddin’ day, we have much to prepare,” Ella said, standing over Murdina and shaking her shoulders.
Murdina looked up in bleary-eyed confusion at her sister, forgetting for a moment where she was, still in that halfway house between dreams and waking.
“I… nay, it cannae be,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, stop bein’ foolish, Murdina. Come now, we must go and help Freya,” Ella replied, and now Murdina suddenly sat up, the events of the previous day coming back to her.
“What of Kin?” she asked, scrambling out of bed.
“Him? He is in the dungeons, of course, and tis’ the best place for him,” she said, shaking her head.
“But I must speak with Father. I have to warn him,” Murdina exclaimed.
“Ye have to dae nothin’ of the sort. Come now, help me to help Freya. Tis’ only right she had her sisters in her company on her weddin’ day,” Ella replied.
Reluctantly, Murdina dressed and followed, but not before she had stowed the letters hidden beneath the mattress in her pocket. They would prove she was telling the truth, and even at this late hour, perhaps there was a chance to convince her father of Murdoch and Iver’s true intentions. She followed Ella up the stairs to Freya’s chambers. The castle was a hive of activity, with servants hurrying here and there and the smell of roasting and baking wafting up from the kitchens below. There was no sign of Murdoch or Iver, but Murdina could not rid herself of the unpleasant memory of Murdoch’s words of the previous night. He knew she knew the truth, and he was not above admitting it, certain, he must have thought, that she would never be believed.
“Oh, thank goodness ye are here. I can hardly decide which shawl to wear,” Freya said as Murdina and Ella entered her chambers a few moments later.
“If only life were as simple as choosin’ shawls,” Murdina muttered, but her sisters ignored her, and a discussion now transpired as to which of several would be the most suited to the occasion.
“Guests are comin’ from near and far. The whole of our cause is to be represented,” Freya said, smiling as she admired herself in the mirror.
“Ye cannae marry him, Freya,” Murdina said, and she turned and locked the door to her sister’s chambers.
“What dae ye mean? Stop this nonsense, Murdina,” Freya snapped, staring at her in astonishment.
“I know ye think I have gone mad, that I have been bewitched by Kin. But tis’ nae true, I have all the proof ye need here. Look at it,” Murdina said, and from her pocket, she drew out the letters– correspondence from Kin to the other spies, evidence that proved she was telling the truth.
“I have nay time for this foolishness,” Freya said, turning back to the mirror.
“If ye will nae look at them for my sake then dae so for Aoife’s, dae so for our sister,” Murdina urged her.
The mention of Aoife clearly struck a chord with Freya, and she sighed, holding out her hand for the letters, which Murdina passed to her.
“Ye say Iver is a spy for the Hanoverians, that he is in league with Murdoch to bring down the cause?” she said, a note of sarcasm in her voice.
“Tis’ true. All of it is true,” Murdina said, and in a few hurried sentences, she explained everything they had discovered on the island of Mull.
