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‘Tell him that his father died for Scotland and for you.’
‘No Will, you cannot do this in my name.’
‘Then tell him his father was honourable and brave, tell him any lie, but give him pride in who he is, that should suffice and give him this.’ Will took out a brooch and pressed it into her hand - two dragons coiled around each other, joined in a fierce embrace. The sun glinted off the silver and memories flooded back, sweet and painful all at once.
‘Morna, this was my mother’s. It is a Viking jewel, ancient and precious. I took it from my father’s dead hand when I buried him. He must have been clutching it when he died, for he loved her to eternity. It is my only remaining part of her, and I want you to keep it safe for me, and for luck until I return.’
‘If you stay, I won’t have to. I love you, your place is here with me.’
‘I am resolved to go Morna.’
She shouted at him. ‘Well go then, but don’t think I will be here when you come back to me for I will never forgive you for this.’
‘You don’t mean that. Can you not send me off to die with one last kiss at least?’
She shook her head, and her face crumpled into tears. Will could not bear it, so he kissed her quickly, wetting his face with her tears and choking back his own. Then he turned his back and walked as quickly as he could to his ship.
Behind him, he heard her cry out, ‘‘Will, Will.’
He turned, and she ran up to him. Her fingers dug into his face as she kissed him in a desperate way. There was a world of pain in it but, still, he wanted it to go on forever.
‘I love you, and I hate you, but God save you, Will,’ she sobbed. He felt her press the brooch back into his hand. ‘You need luck more than I do. I pray it keeps you safe. If this is our final goodbye, then promise me you will not be honourable and brave. Promise me you will do whatever it takes to stay alive, for my sake, if not your own, and Will…farewell.’
Will wrenched himself away and almost ran to his ship. Once he was on deck, he gathered his men around him.
‘You all know where we are going and why, and you all know what awaits you at Berwick. The Scots army is outnumbered by a massive English force sent north, and it is no easy thing to break a siege. We will be far from home, fighting the cause of a man who does not know us, who does not esteem us. But Scotland is our cause now, and Clan Bain too. King Robert the Bruce will never believe in our loyalty if we do not show it to him with some kind of sacrifice. He may not deserve that loyalty, but there is one who does, and that is Scotland, our home, our country. Will we see it once more overrun by English bastards or will we rally and join the fight? That is your choice to make, I force no man to come with me, the sacrifice need only be mine, not yours.
Will looked around at all the stern faces looking to him.
‘If any man wants to leave this ship, do it now, for there is no shame in it. If you wish to fight with me, then stay silent.’
Will waited, to the sound of wind rising over the water, setting the sails to flapping. There was not one murmur of dissent.
‘We are of one mind then. Now let us go and teach these English bastards how a Bain fights.’
A short while later the ship slowly turned from the rocks and slid out of the bay, past the guano covered rock. The wind swelled the sails, and soon Will was leaving behind the cliffs and the pounding surf, and Fitheach’s stark edifice. He was leaving behind the love of his life, and so he dare not look back. It was only when they reached the mouth of the bay, and the ship veered around the headland that he turned. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Morna was still there, still watching, a small, soft thing, in sharp relief against all the jagged darkness around her.
Whatever madness had a grip on him he had better make it mean something, for he knew Morna did not forgive easily and, once he did this, once he abandoned her, there was no surety he would ever get back to her again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As she crested the hill and looked down at Beharra’s stout palisade, Morna’s eyes filled with tears. They seemed to do that a lot these days - as she had taken her leave of Braya and Fitheach, on the crossing to the mainland, during the long ride to Beharra in the rain. She cried every single time she thought of him.
William Bain had done it, broken her heart, just as she always feared he would. If he died, she would never be able to put it back together again. So Morna had resolved to head for home, to be with her family when the news came, for she had determined that he would die, that the sublime happiness she felt with her rogue of a husband could not last. God was not that kind to people like her.
‘Is this it, Lady?’ asked the stern man at her side. Braya had insisted this man, Gormal, accompany her safely home, as he was the size of an ox and had the kind of belligerent manner that would deter the most determined cutpurse.
‘Aye, Gormal, this is Beharra.’
‘Then I will be gone, Lady.’
‘Will you not stay the night at least? My family will offer you food and shelter, and you can rest.’
‘I’ve no need for rest, Lady. I must return at once to Fitheach and watch out for the Cranstouns. They may not know of my Laird’s departure yet, but they will soon enough. We will not be caught napping.’
‘And if they come?’
‘They will be greeted with traditional Bain hospitality, Lady.’
