Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams

20

“So, then.” The old woman brought a cracked teapot and several mismatched cups to the table for Sorcha, Edmund, and Dand. “Ye have come tae ask about what transpired on Samhain all those years ago, aye? Wi’ the two Fraser lads an’ that other boy?”

“Yes, madam,” Sorcha replied.

“Och, there’s nay need tae call me nowt but Daisy!” the woman cackled amiably, pouring tea for each of them. “‘Twas me name while I was in service tae Laird Jamie, an’ it allus suited me right enough. I never put on no airs, did I? Knew me place well, I did.”

“As we said,” Dand said, “anything you might be able to tell us about what happened that night would be most appreciated. Some of the other people we spoke with—the ones who worked in the castle during those days—indicated that you might know more than they do regarding the subject of Malcolm’s…that is, Marcus’s professed guilt.”

“On that topic, I know nay more nor less than the rest of ‘em do,” she rasped. “Oh, do not mistake me, sirs and lady, I know plenty, as do they. It’s only that the rest of ‘em ain’t nearly so willing tae speak the truth of the matter as I am.”

“And why is that?” Edmund asked.

Daisy’s face twitched briefly, and then she smiled again, a bit sadly. “Because they’re nae dying, lad, an’ I am. An’ when a woman like meself anticipates meetin’ her maker sooner rather than later, she values truth above savin’ her own skin.”

Sorcha leaned forward, putting a hand on the woman’s frail arm. “Will you tell us, then?”

She nodded. “Aye. ‘Tweren’t much of a secret, now were it? Nathan was allus a lad wi’ a mean streak of mischief in ‘im. Too clever for his own good, like. An’ he liked tae steal wine from the kitchens. Had a taste fer it, he did, developed at far too young an age. Still, what were we tae do about it? His father Jamie didnae want tae know about the doings of his own boys, an’ that’s the truth. Allus occupied wi’ other matters…like drinkin’ up all the wine in the land with that ghastly brother of ‘is, and beddin’ the servant girls when he thought ‘is wife wasn’t looking...” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes clouded briefly, as though she were being assailed by a memory she would just as soon have forgotten.

“Go on,” Edmund prompted.

“Nathan went ridin’ that Samhain, after drainin’ an entire bottle on ‘is own. Drunk, he was, when he went to the stables to get ‘is horse an’ ride by the moonlight. Marcus went wi’ him, tryin’ tae talk ‘im out of it. Only Nathan wouldn’t listen, an’ then he trampled the stable boy, didn’t he? There were a few servants who saw it from a distance. Mind you, they couldn’t exactly intervene, now, could they? No, they could only watch as Marcus—honorable little fool that he was—agreed tae ride off so he could take the blame.”

“And so he was out there all those years,” Dand mused, “and no doubt causing Nathan many sleepless nights as he wondered whether his brother might someday return to speak the truth.”

Daisy pointed a gnarled finger at him. “That’s it exactly, lad! All who knew the truth played along all those years after. How could we do otherwise? Nathan was the son of a laird. Our word would have been nothing compared to his.”

“No,” Sorcha replied softly. “I suppose not.”

“Then it is settled!” Edmund clapped his hands together briskly. “We shall present her at the trial, and her testimony should be more than enough to exonerate Malcolm!”

“Marcus,” Dand corrected.

“Him too, yes!” Edmund agreed, rising from the table.

But Sorcha remained seated, her eyes fixed on Daisy’s.

The old woman smiled faintly. “There is more ye wish tae ask of me, is there nae? About this man ye care for so very deeply?”

“Aye,” she answered. “What do you know of the circumstances by which he came to Castle Fraser?”

Daisy chuckled mirthlessly. “On that subject, my lady, I happen to know considerably more than anyone else. Or at least, anyone living.”

Several hours later, almost everyone in the Fraser clan was gathered within the courtyard of the castle as Malcolm stood before them. Nathan addressed the assembly solemnly.

“I must commend my adoptive brother for coming forward after so many years to face justice for his crime,” he intoned. “He had honor when we were children together—before this tragic misstep, at least—and he shows honor now that he is grown. Because of this, I am prepared to spare his life, though he will be consigned to the dungeons for the remainder of it.”

“Before that sentence is carried out,” Sorcha’s voice echoed through the courtyard, “there is one more who would give testimony this day!”

Nathan gazed at Sorcha incredulously as she approached with Daisy, Dand, and Edmund. “What on earth are you doing here, Lady Sorcha? I had thought our business concluded! And… my God, is that Daisy you have with you, who used to serve our father? What is going on?”

For his part, Malcolm could only stare at her, bewildered.

Sorcha led Daisy to the center of the courtyard, where she looked out at all the members of the clan, her chin jutting defiantly. “Some among ye were once servants of this place,” she began in her quavering voice. “Aye, an’ some of ye were kin tae ones who were. Ye ken full well who was tae blame fer what happened tae the stable boy that awful night. Ye have supported this ghastly lie fer years, as I did, an’ I cannae blame ye. But now this poor innocent lad has returned…forced to, no doubt, by his selfish coward of a brother. Will ye truly stand by an’ allow him tae be punished so?”

Nathan snickered. “Surely, you do not believe this pitiful speech will be enough to sway what occurs here this day?”

“No, I did not think it would,” Sorcha admitted. “However, Daisy has not yet said all that she must.”

“Indeed not,” Daisy agreed, looking Nathan square in the eye. “I have one more thing tae confess this day, Laird Nathan. A thing that even ye dinnae know. Yer father an’ his wretched brother Oban often plotted against their rivals, the Hamilton clan. One night, whilst drunk, they ordered me sister Rose—who was carryin’ on wi’ a servant of the Hamiltons—tae arrange for the theft of that family’s only male child. Threatened ‘er, they did, if she didnae go along wi’ their plan. So she did, God help her. She snuck into the castle wi’ her lover’s aid, an’ stole away that poor infant, that the Hamiltons would be thrown into turmoil an’ their line of succession interrupted.”

Nathan turned white as a sheet. “Surely you don’t mean…”

“Very much so, Laird Nathan!” Edmund laughed. “You may enjoy spreading rumors and lies about how your bloodline is tied to royalty, but all the while, your adopted brother was the lost son of Kester Hamilton—he who would have been the rightful king of Scotland had the British not taken over!”

“And you expect Marcus to be released over such hearsay and gossip from a feeble old woman?” Nathan protested. “You expect that my clansmen will reject my rule over that?!”

“I have no opinion with regard to whether your people keep you as their laird or not,” Sorcha replied evenly. “That is entirely their affair. However, with regard to the release of Marcus, I expect that you will do precisely that in order to avoid war with another clan.”

“Oh?” Nathan chortled. “The Campbells are willing to go to war with me over such a thing?”

“Not the Campbells,” Edmund said. “The Hamiltons, though, will be quite eager to reunite with their long-lost offspring. And as Laird Fergus Brodie is already riding to inform them of these events, I suspect they will be here soon indeed to meet him. Would you have him in shackles upon their arrival?”

Now Nathan was beginning to visibly perspire, and it almost appeared as though his knees might give out beneath him. He scanned the faces of the members of his clan as they looked upon him, their expressions judging and mistrustful.

They would not fight for him if the Hamiltons came.

In truth, they might not fight for him or serve him at all—ever again.

“Very well,” Nathan spoke up hoarsely. “He shall be released at once, with the condition that he is never to return to these lands. I believe that under the circumstances, exile is…a fair punishment, yes. And a just one.”

He nodded to the castle guards, who exchanged glances and unlocked the chains around Malcolm’s wrists.

Malcolm took a few steps forward, and Sorcha ran toward him, throwing her arms around him and holding him tight.

“Sorcha,” he breathed. “H-How did you do all of this?”

“You saved me,” she whispered simply, “so I saved you too.”