Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson

Chapter Two

Dawn’s rosy fingers crept across the sky not long after Arguen had fallen asleep. But no one came to wake her, not even Fiona. It wasn’t until well into the morning that Arguen finally awoke on her own. Birds were chirping outside of her window, and she could smell bread baking from the kitchens nearby. One would hardly know something terrible had transpired in the castle the night before. She rose, stiffly, and began to dress herself. She’d learned to tie her own stays long ago and could make quick work of it now. Her under-petticoat followed with her pocket, then her dark green overskirt and blue jacket. She braided her long, silvery hair on the side and twisted it into a bun, pinning it in place before placing her cap over it, for modesty, and so no one could see her hair and judge her for it.

She was ready to start her day of gathering various plants and herbs in the meadow and forest when a knock sounded at her door. When she opened it, she was surprised to see Douglas standing there, haggard, a forlorn look on his face.

“Douglas, what be the matter?” she asked, genuinely concerned for his health. “D’ye need a poultice? Ye look pale.”

Douglas swallowed. “I…” he stuttered.

Arguen regarded him with pity, then suspicion, then horror. Her heart beat faster, and her stomach lurched. “Douglas, what’s happening?”

Douglas clenched his jaw and closed his eyes before speaking. He didn’t even look at her; his gaze fixed firmly to the stone floor. “Ye...ye are under arrest,” he said feebly.

“Arrest?” Arguen repeated in disbelief. Suddenly she felt rather dizzy, and had to sit on the edge of her bed for fear of fainting.

Her brother swallowed, attempting to hold back his own tears. “Aye. Lady Marianne...accuses ye of witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft?” Arguen repeated, dumbfounded.

“Aye. She thinks...ye purposely gave her a potion to kill the bairn.”

“Douglas, ‘tis impossible. I tried tae help her, tae heal her. Ye ken this tae be true,” she said, although it was more of a plea for her brother to recognize her innocence.

“Och, I ken, sister. But I...I have tae arrest ye. Take ye tae the dungeons. Lady Marianne willnae rest until ye’re in a cell.”

“Nae, Douglas. Ye dinnae have to do this,” Arguen pleaded, growing desperate.

“I do, Arguen. I’m sorry. I am Chief of the laird’s guard, I cannae disobey him.”

At that moment, another guard appeared at the doorway with Douglas, holding the irons.

“Arguen, I’m sorry. I have tae.”

She considered her options. She could not outrun them, nor could she physically overpower them, no matter what. Douglas had trained her, for goodness’s sakes. He’d be able to predict her every move.

“‘Tis only ‘til the trial.”

Arguen’s stomach lurched again. “Trial?”

“Aye. The laird sent fer a magistrate this mornin’. Could take some time, but he insisted on a trial. He had tae convince Marianne ‘twas the right thing tae do.”

Arguen’s head was swimming. Trial? For witchcraft?

“I dinnae want this,” Arguen said weakly, more to herself than anything.

“Arguen, please. Marianne already wants yer head on a spike. ‘Tis the best we can do now,” Douglas pleaded with her.

Death, or rot in a cold cell? Supposing life was better than an unfair death, she rose. The other guard held out the irons, but she waved them away. “I willnae try tae escape,” she promised. The other guard seemed to understand, and Arguen could swear she saw sympathy in his eyes as well.

The walk to the dungeons was humiliating. Like the night before, servants, highlanders, and castle residents watched as the two guards escorted the odd woman to her cell. Arguen could hear the hushed tones and harsh whispers. High time, always knew she was a witch, would never trust someone like her, she heard some of them say. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall. It would only add to their satisfaction, and she would cling to any dignity she had left.

Arguen entered the cell willingly, and the other guard locked it behind her, leaving her and Douglas alone for a few moments.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, when he was satisfied that the other guard was out of earshot. He began to cry himself, and Arguen held his hand through the bars.

“Nae, Douglas. Ye’re doin’ yer duty. ‘Tis not for me to stop ye.” Now she was crying too, even though she’d fought so hard to keep her composure.

“I’ll get ye out of here, I promise. I’ve a friend who owes me a favor. If I can get word tae him, he’ll keep watch over ye.”

“Douglas, nae. I can bide my time here ‘til the trial.”

“Nae, Arguen. When mama passed, I promised her I’d look out for ye. Ye’re in a cell. I’m doin’ a right muck-up job,” he tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “I promise, I’ll get ye out, and ye can escape. I’ll be as quick as I can about it.”

Arguen wanted to believe him, but she also knew the power Marianne held. As the daughter of an English baron, married to a Scottish laird’s son, the alliance was tenuous at best. Neither side could afford to make grievous mistakes. Her own belief in her brother to get her out was almost non-existent, knowing the delicate balance of her position, but she said nothing. She didn’t want to dampen his spirit, already so downtrodden.

“Go,” she whispered. “They’ll think we conspire.”

Douglas nodded. “I promise. Ye’ll be out of here soon.” With one last squeeze of her hand, he left. Arguen took a deep breath and slumped to the floor, finally able to cry freely. No one else was around, as far as she could tell, and no one would hear her. She cried until she fell asleep, but no dreams came. Her mind was black, cold, hopeless. Not even dreams could help her now.