Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson

Chapter Five

“Like this, wee bird,” Arguen’s mother cooed. She gently took the mortar and pestle out of her daughter’s hands, and proceeded to demonstrate the proper technique. “See, if ye twist yer wrist like so, it crushes easier. That way, ye have more of it for a longer time.”

After watching her mother for a few moments, Arguen tried it herself, as her mother praised on. “Ye’ll be a healer one day, mark me words.”

“Does tha’ mean I can do magic?” little Arguen asked.

“Heavens, no,” her mother said gently. “Being a healer is about usin’ yer God-given common sense, bein’ careful about yer plants, and treatin’ all livin’ things with kindness and patience.”

“That’s it?” Arguen asked curiously.

“Aye, ‘tis. Anyone who tries tae tell ye that healers work magic simply doesnae understand how tae take care of anyone but themselves.”

“Och, I dinnae wanna be like that,” little Arguen declared, crushing the thyme with a new ferocity.

“I dinnae think ye will. Ye’ve more kindness in yer wee finger than most folks dae in their entire body.”

Fat lot of good being kind was doing her now. It was July. The heather in the fields would be ready for harvesting. Under normal circumstances, Arguen would go out and gather armfuls to dry in her little healer’s chamber. Instead, she was still here, in this cell, waiting to die. She desperately wanted to bathe and change her clothes, but such things were not possible at this time. Every day was a terrible waiting game—not just for the start of the trial, but to see where Marianne’s mood led her. She really was unpredictable, which made Arguen uneasy. Would she come down here to the dungeons to slit Arguen’s throat and claim it an accident? Would she drag her up by her hair into the great hall and do it there? Or was she above all that...would she have someone else do it for her? Perhaps she might convince the cook, Mrs. Adair, to poison her food? The latter was a possibility she hadn’t considered until a few days ago, and she refused to eat anything that Douglas didn’t personally sneak her.

Deep in her heart, she knew her mother would encourage her to be an anchor, to show kindness without showing weakness, but after nearly a month in the dungeon, Arguen liked her late mother’s advice less and less.

Her reverie was interrupted when she heard footsteps on the stone stairs, fast ones, too. She stood up, assuming a defensive position, just in case such footsteps were unfriendly. Instead, Douglas rounded the corner, a smile bright on his face.

“What on God’s green earth could ye possibly be smilin’ for?” she asked, relief flooding her veins.

“I can get ye out of here,” he said breathlessly.

Arguen furrowed her brow, regarding him with a quizzical look. “How?”

“I’ve written a letter of introduction. I havenae heard from Blake, but ye can present it tae him when ye arrive. It’ll tell him all he needs tae ken.”

Her head was swimming, and she was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded at the uncertainty. “Douglas, does he ken who I am, and fer what I’m accused?”

“Aye, I’ve written it. He’s a just man. He’ll agree that ye cannae be held like this on the word of one person, and some English bitch nonetheless,” he said with a wry smile.

“Douglas, mind yer tongue! We never ken who’s listening.”

“Och, stop yer worryin’. We need tae plan yer escape.”

Arguen huffed. Douglas was so optimistic at times, she felt he was blinded by it. Sometimes, she felt it was her duty to think for the both of them. “Isnae the castle crawling wi’ people right now? How can ye be sure?”

“Aye, ‘tis. But that’s the beauty of it. Tomorrow they go out hunting. In a few days, they’ll be back wi’ their goods, and as ye ken, they’ll celebrate. Everyone will be so distracted that ye’ll be able to escape relatively unseen.”

“Relatively?” Arguen asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, there’ll always be sentries, ye ken. But I reckon they’ll be restless and willin’ tae overlook a rustlin’ noise in the grass.”

“I think yer countin’ a lo’ of things bein’ in my favor. What if the sentries are more alert? What if there’s a group of highlanders outside who think a young lass could be a bit o’ fun? What if, God ken why, Marianne is lookin’ out her window and sees me?”

Douglas nodded as he considered each of the possibilities his sister put forth. She raised some good points, of course, but he wished she were not so quick to find the worst in a situation.

“Arguen, I’ve been doin’ some lookin. There is a tunnel in this dungeon that leads up tae the pasture near the stables. Ye cannae take a horse; that would be too suspicious righ’ away, but it’ll put ye closer to the forest edge, and ‘tis easier to sneak ye out through there than tae disguise ye. Yer a hard lass to disguise,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“I didnae ask fer silver hair,” she said weakly.

Douglas nodded thoughtfully. “Mother’s hair was fair,” he added.

Arguen agreed, and for a few moments, they both involuntarily took a silent moment to remember their mother. “And she wouldnae want ye to rot here. She always said tae use yer gift.”

“My God-given common sense?” she asked dryly.

“Aye, but ye ken what Scripture says. The Lord helps those who help themselves.”

She gave a chuckle at her brother’s expression of faith. “Then let’s hope he feels generous. We’re about tae do a lot of helpin’ ourselves.”

“Aye, but the Lord also knows wickedness. True wickedness, mind ye. Marianne’s as wicked as they come. She’ll get what she’s due.”

“Ye sound confident.”

“Someone has tae. I cannae lose ye too, Arguen.”

“I ken, Douglas. I trust ye.”

“Braw. Now, we ought tae make a plan,” he said, and reached into his coat pocket to unfold the map that Blake had sent.

The two of them discussed the distance, measured the amount of days it would take to traverse the distance on foot, alternate routes, supplies, and what to do if she were attacked, either by a wild animal or a malicious human. On the night of, Douglas would obtain the key to her cell, unlock it, and lead her out of the passage to the stables. As Chief of the laird’s guard, it would be difficult to slip away, but he counted on a relaxed environment for the party. He also knew he risked being thought of as the primary suspect in Arguen’s escape. It was known that the two of them were close, and it would look bad for the Chief of the laird’s guard to have assisted in his sister’s escape. Malcolm had originally wanted to escort her through the tunnel, but Douglas told him it was dangerous. Marianne would naturally suspect her own husband.

“And...Malcolm...does he ken he’s doin’ this fer me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Aye. In fact, he thought o’ the plan.”

Arguen nodded. She knew Malcolm was putting himself in a vulnerable position by helping them. In Marianne’s mind, no one would be above suspicion. It made her all the more dangerous.

“Will ye thank him for me, when ye see him?”

“Ye should save yer thanks until yer free and clear. We cannae let her most royal highness catch any whiff o’ conspiracy.”

Deep down, Arguen knew that such thanks might not be possible. In the map that Douglas had shown her, she’d have to navigate the forest, then cross part of the moors. Even in the summertime, the rain and wind could be unforgiving. Not to mention the constant threat of robbers and thieves. A young woman traveling alone could be an easy target, even one who knew how to fight.

“I’ll bring ye supplies the night ye leave. I dinnae want ye tae gather things here where the guards might see.”

“An’...Blake can be trusted? Ye’re dead sure?”

“Aye. I’d trust him wi’ me life. Which means I trust him wi’ yers.”

She nodded, and squeezed his hand one more time before he left, so as not to rouse suspicion.

Arguen liked certainty. Her whole life, she’d been shunned, teased, even threatened for her looks and her healing abilities. When she found people she could trust, she didn’t like to let go. Loving by halves was simply not in her nature. Leaving familiar Bruckstone Castle behind, along with her brother, Malcolm, and a few others in the serving staff pained her. This journey was for her own safety, yes, but it felt so tenuous. Everything was hinged on hope, and she couldn’t afford for it to fail her now.

Malcolm stole a visit hours later. It was the first time he’d been down to the dungeons since her imprisonment, and Arguen was shocked to see him, knowing that his visit could spell trouble if Marianne or those loyal to her found out.

Guilt wore him like a fine coat. Arguen couldn’t tell whether he felt guilty for visiting her, helping her, or for some other reason Marianne may have laid upon him.

“I cannae believe Douglas an’ I played here as bairns,” he said weakly.

She nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis cold and unwelcoming, even in the summer.”

“I dinnae think these dungeons have had prisoners since before we were children.”

“I’m sorry tae say I havenae kept proper house,” she said sheepishly.

Malcolm chuckled softly. “Ye brighten any room yer in,” he said, stepping closer and closing the gap between them.

“Silver hair tends tae do that.”

“Ye ken what I mean.”

A rueful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I doubt many in Bruckstone Castle share yer sentiments.”

“They dinnae ken ye like I do.” His voice was softer now, his hazel eyes sincere. He reached through the bars and held her hand. “Arguen, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love ye,” he said.

Arguen looked at him pitifully. “Please, Malcolm. Dinnae do this tae me now. I cannae leave like this. Ye ken we wouldn’t work.”

“Aye, so ye’ve said. But...If I hadnae told ye now, I’d never forgive meself. What yer about tae do is dangerous, but necessary. If I never see ye again...” his voice trailed off momentarily, “Just thought ye needed tae hear it. I dinnae ken this Blake character, but if he’s unkind tae ye, I want ye to remember words from someone who loved ye.”

Arguen’s blue eyes welled up with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Malcolm...” she began, but he shushed her before she could go on. There were footsteps above them, too close for his liking, so he let go of her hand abruptly.

“I should go,” he whispered. He made his way to an alternate staircase, but before going up, he looked back at her. “Dinnae forget me, Arguen,” he pleaded.

“I willnae forget ye, Malcolm,” she said tenderly. He gave one last longing look, then left.

She had never loved Malcolm, not as he loved her. He was a bosom friend though, and she hated to leave him behind. Now her heart was even heavier, and she wondered how much more she could bear. And she had a feeling she was going to find out.

It was well after sunset when Douglas arrived in the dungeons, rucksack and keys in hand. He looked gaunt and haggard, more like a shell rather than his usual carefree and jovial self.

Douglas put the rucksack down on a dry spot of the floor while he unlocked the cell. “We have tae be quick about this. Laird Morgan isnae drinkin’ as fast, and his wits are still about him.” When the cell was unlocked, he grabbed her hand as she grabbed the rucksack. She didn’t question him when he beckoned her to follow him into what looked like a cellar door down the corridor, although in her right mind, she would have called him mad.

She had never even known this was here, in all her years at Bruckstone Castle. Even when she and Malcolm and Douglas had played as children, she’d never ventured down into the dungeons with them. And for good reason, she surmised—it was dark, and each noise echoed off the wall in eerie ways.

“How long’ve ye ken about this?” she whispered, fearing that if she spoke too loudly, her voice would echo all the way through the tunnel and back to the dungeons, where the next unlucky guard would have to inform the laird that she was missing.

“Years. A bit after ye were born, methinks,” Douglas said wryly.

At long last, they reached the end of the tunnel. Arguen held the lantern up while Douglas unlatched what seemed to be a trap door. She looked around the small chamber, which was more like a closet. A few dusty glass bottles, some full of what she could only guess was booze, and some empty, lay discarded on the stone floor. A barrel stood against the wall, one of the rings rather rusted. The wood was old and splitting. She wondered how long these things had been here, and for what purpose this tunnel had been used in the past.

Finally, Douglas opened the door and threw it open. Arguen couldn’t help letting out a deep gasp. It had been a month since she saw the night sky in all its glory. Now the sight of the inky black sky dotted with white and silver stars took her very breath away.

Douglas smiled softly. “I ken ye missed the stars.”

“Aye,” she said dreamily, still looking up at the sky, “they make bonnie companions.”

He let her look at the stars for a moment longer, then pulled the rotting barrel underneath the aperture.

“I havenae found time tae put a ladder here yet, so the barrel will have tae do,” he explained.

Arguen was going to question its safety, but the entire endeavor was dangerous. Climbing on a rotten barrel to get out of a secret tunnel was the absolute least of her worries.

Douglas continued talking as he climbed up. “I’ll go up first so I can pull ye up. Fasten yer cloak and hood first—yer hair shines. Someone’ll see ye.”

Arguen didn’t need to be told twice. Her cap was long gone, leaving her silvery hair uncovered. After a while, the pins in her hair began to hurt, so she’d taken them out and stuffed them in her stays. Using a torn-off piece of her petticoat, she pulled her hair back and covered it. Douglas had been thoughtful enough to include her good cloak in the rucksack, which helped to warm her and further ensconce her in the darkness.

Douglas went up first with what seemed like no effort, and hoisted her up with a strong arm afterward.

Finally, she was free.

All she wanted to do was sink to the earth, feel the grass and dirt in her hands, and be at peace, but she had to move quickly—both for her and her brother’s sake. The tunnel put them out at the stables, which no one was guarding. Sentries were picketed along various points of the castle, but none were so far out here. Arguen could see the lanterns and candles in the windows in the distance—soft orange glows amongst the stone. They were too far away to hear the din of the party, and for whatever reason, that fact made Arguen a little sad. Bruckstone Castle was her home. Over the years, she had grown to love the staff, guards, and clan members who didn’t treat her like an outsider because of her appearance. She’d attended parties, weddings, funerals, and feasts of various kinds, and healed more sickness and injuries than she could count. The whole of her life had passed here so far. Who was to say if she’d ever see it again?

She heaved a deep sigh. “I should go. I dinnae want ye tae get intae trouble.”

Douglas swallowed. “Aye. Ye should...put as much distance in as ye can taenight. I’m sure Marianne will have a search party assembled come morning.”

“I’m still afeared,” she admitted.

Her brother nodded. “Aye. But yer strong, and I ken ye’ll survive.”

“Ye cannae ken that surely.”

Douglas cocked his head. “Aye, I do. Remember when we went swimming, about eight years ago? In that little beach where the secret cove is.”

This was a painful memory for her, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Ye swam out too far. A rip tide took ye away. I was afeared, too. Ye didnae come up for a long time. I thought surely we’d lost ye. But we didnae. Ye let the tide take ye out to sea, and when it was safe tae do so, ye swam back. Three miles up the coast--and ye walked back in naught but yer shift—and ye were alive.”

“Douglas, I thought I’d drown.”

“I ken. But ye didn’t. Ye were strong and ye came back. I think ye can do it again.”

“This is no simple rip tide,” she admonished.

“Nay, ‘tis much more dangerous. But...ye’ve survived this long. God must have somethin’ in store for ye.”

“Ye suddenly seem to have a lot of faith in the Almighty,” she quipped.

He shrugged. “I havenae much else,” he said softly.

In that moment, Arguen felt the tiniest bit guilty for teasing him. Making light of dangerous situations was never a wise idea.

“But ye should go. No time for dawdlin’,” he said.

All she could do was nod. This was it. Here she was, saying goodbye to the only real family she had left in the world. “Give me love tae Mistress Adair,” she said feebly, fighting back tears.

“I promise,” he said quietly. “Aye. Now go. Get ye gone. And write tae me when ye can.”

Arguen gave his hand one last affectionate squeeze, then whirled off into the night, free at last.

Or so she hoped.