Chapter Twenty-Eight

Icy rain trickled down the back of Jasper’s neck. His cheek was against something solid and rough. A mouldy smell. Tree bark? His knees were sinking into mud. All feeling had been lost in his wrists. They had tied the ropes too tightly for escape. His fingers were swelling – they pulsed and ached as if his heart beat there. Jasper tasted metal in his mouth – blood running down from a head wound which throbbed horribly. He was almost thankful for the pain, for it brought him back to clarity. Several voices faded in and out. At least three men but there could be more, out of earshot.

Jasper kept his head down and listened. Somewhere nearby, there was a river’s full-throated gush.

‘Let us do it now. Hold the bastard down. It would be a few minutes work.’

‘Drowning then.’

‘No. Too gentle. He has to suffer. It was agreed.’ The last voice bore the hard edge of command, but it was not one he recognised.

‘Castrate the bastard, and let him bleed out. That is the best course, and there’s more sport in it.’

A dull thud sounded, as if someone was being smacked about the head. ‘Enough. You would take vengeance like a woman? He dies my way, and ‘tis a bad enough fate.’

‘Hurry then. It is colder than a witch’s cunny out here, and these woods give off a fell stench.’

‘Fetch the rope.’

Jasper opened one eye. The other was almost swollen shut. They must have kicked him in the face when he was unconscious. Two men, masked, hurled a rope over a tree bough and tied the other end to a horse’s saddle. His heart thudded against his ribs when he spotted a noose on one end. He swallowed down vomit and strained to free his hands. He could not die like a stuck pig. He had to go down fighting.

‘Ah. It seems our prisoner is awake.’

Rough hands took him from behind and hauled him over to a tree. Jasper kicked at his captors, but he had no defence when a punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of him. He tried to avoid the noose as he took some last, frantic gasps of air into his lungs, but he was overcome.

The man who faced him wore a mask over most of his face like the others. He had small eyes, like hard, grey pebbles, and a broad face.

‘Who in God’s name are you?’ spat Jasper.

‘I’m nothing to do with God. More the Devil’s own, spawned out of his arse, and you will meet him soon enough.’

‘Are you Alec Carstair’s man?’

The man gave a scornful laugh. ‘That worm. Do you think he has the balls or the brains to get his teeth into you? He cowers like a lass while we do the dirty work.’

‘Why are you doing this? What quarrel do you have with me?’

‘I have no particular quarrel with you, but my master does. Aye, and he has ordered me to send you to your maker. Caolan Bannerman is a clever one, is he not?’

A seething hatred gripped Jasper. He had been betrayed, and the Bannermans had the upper hand, as always. He would die this day, and no one would know by whose hand. Rowenna would be left defenceless. Would she fall prey to Strachan, for he must be in on this? His message had been a worm dangled as bait for him to snap at. Bannerman and Strachan were probably together now, laughing at him. An awful thought hit him.

‘Is Bannerman here?’ he said.

The man smirked. ‘He’s behind you, in the trees. Bannerman doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. He just told us to finish it, and now we shall.’

‘Wait. Stop. I can pay twice what he is paying you.’

‘Your coin makes no difference. Say your words and prepare for hell, Glendenning.’

So this was it – a slow, humiliating death in a bleak and lonely wood. How could his life have come to this?

The horse jerked forward, hauling him off the ground. The rope squeezed with appalling force, leaving him struggling for air, kicking his feet into nothing in a frantic effort to free himself. The rope bit into his neck muscles, tilting his head upwards. He could just suck in a tiny breath of air, but it was agonising.

‘Shall we pull on his legs to hasten his end?’ he heard someone say, as if from far away.

‘No, Bannerman wants him to suffer. Let him dangle. I want to see his eyes bulge and his bladder open at the end.’

The sky whirled around him, grey and merciless. Blood pounded in Jasper’s head as he slowly slipped away.

***

To Rowenna, it seemed she had been searching forever. Jasper could not be this far ahead? The rain made the woods even more impenetrable, and she had long since passed the point where their party had turned back. She began to regret her folly, for Jasper might have left the path and be moving through the woods out of sight.

A murder of crows suddenly took flight, cawing and circling up into the grey sky. Moments later, Jasper’s horse appeared, trotting down the path towards her, riderless. It ran right past her, and Rowenna froze and listened. He might be close, lying injured, calling for help.

There was nothing save a rushing sound from her right, but she could only see dense trees and dark shadows. She strained her ears, and the wind changed direction, bringing with it a faint shout. It was a man’s voice deep within the trees.

Rowenna slipped off her horse, picked up her skirts and ran through the woods towards the voice. She burst into a clearing and stopped dead. Her heart leapt to her throat. All the breath left her body, and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out his name. Jasper was kicking on the end of a rope. He was dying in front of her. Men were looking on, laughing as he struggled.

‘When he is done, raise him higher and let him hang until he is blackened and his eyes are taken by the crows,’ said one man. ‘He can stay as a warning to those who cross the master.’

They would not take his beautiful eyes. Rowenna took hold of her crossbow and tried to load an arrow, but her hands shook, and her fingers were numb, so she fumbled it, and the bow fell into the mud. No, no, no. He didn’t have much time. Rowenna tried again and got an arrow in. She aimed, but she was too far away for a clear shot.

Getting closer would take time, and Jasper was dying. She would have to take the shot. Rowenna raised the bow on shaking hands, bracing herself on the bough of a tree. Three men stood with their backs to her. She chose the middle target, fixed on a point where his heart was, and let loose.

The arrow made a dull thud as it entered the man’s back. He arched his body and fell forward. Rowenna could scarcely believe she had hit him. Shouts of alarm echoed about the clearing as she loaded another arrow. The men scattered, moving targets, and they were looking in her direction now. She reloaded, her fingers steady this time, and fired, but she missed her mark.

‘There, in the trees,’ one man shouted, running towards her at full pelt. She loaded another arrow with shaking fingers and let loose just as he fell on her, sword drawn back to slice.

The crossbow slipped from her fingers, and they hit the ground as one. The man gushed blood from his throat, jerking in his death throes. He was heavy, but Rowenna managed to wriggle out from under him. She had no idea where the third man was but had no time for caution. She snatched up the dead man’s sword and ran into the clearing. The rope was taut where the horse pulled on it, and the tree bough creaked under Jasper’s struggles. With one big swing, Rowenna severed the rope, the horse took flight, and Jasper crashed to the ground.

He did not move or make a sound. Rowenna loosened the rope around his neck, but his eyes bulged up to the sky, and he was so still.

‘Wake up,’ she shouted, shaking and slapping him. ‘Please, Jasper. We have to go.’ Rowenna pounded on his chest hard enough to break his ribs. ‘Please don’t die. I cannot bear it. Please.’ Her sobs echoed around the woods.

Just when she thought all hope was lost, a rattling groan came from Jasper’s throat. He began to gag and gasp for air, sucking it in with a horrible rasping sound. When he opened his eyes, they were bloodshot, anguished, terrified. He stared at her as if he did not see her.

‘Get up, Jasper. We have to go,’ she screamed.

He tried to say something, but it came out as a croak. Rowenna freed his hands and stood up. ‘We have to go, now!’

Jasper seemed to understand her, for he rolled onto his knees and tried to stand. But he could not. She held out a hand and tried to haul him up, but he was a heavy man, and it was beyond her strength. Rowenna glanced around the clearing, praying the other man had run off. She put down the sword and took hold of Jasper with two hands, and with a grunt, he managed to stand up. Rowenna put the sword in his hand.

‘I will get the horse. If the third man comes back, defend us, Jasper.’

Her words seemed to bring him to his senses. He swayed a little, but he nodded and gripped the sword tightly. Rowenna ran as fast as she could to the horse. It had run into a thicket and was whinnying, frightened out of its wits. It reared and aimed razor-sharp hooves at her head, but Rowenna was in no mood to be intimidated. She snatched hold of its bridle and hauled its head down to show mastery. By the time she led it back to Jasper, he had recovered enough to tear back the dead men’s masks, but there was no time to linger. Shouts rang out.

‘The third man,’ she cried. ‘He must have summoned help. They are all around us.’

Jasper grabbed her hand in an iron grip and pulled her into the woods. The horse’s reins slipped from her fingers, and it ran off. Rowenna watched it flee in desperation. Jasper was like a man possessed, sweeping back branches and crashing through the undergrowth, heading downhill. There was a roar close by, and suddenly, they were teetering on the edge of a drop-off over an icy brown river in full flood.

Shouts and the cracking of branches came from behind them, and Rowenna turned to see horsemen bearing down fast.

Jasper grabbed her hand and kissed her with icy lips. ‘Jump,’ he croaked.

Then she was in mid-air, legs kicking. She hit the water with a crash and sank into the frigid depths. Her scream of panic was snatched from her lungs. Darkness and cold engulfed her, and Jasper’s hand slid from hers. Everything was muted for an instant, and then she surfaced to the roar of water over boulders and her own panted breaths, each sending a dull ache through her throat. Her skirts had become lead. Rowenna could not hold her head up as she was twisted around by the force of the water. She tried to spot Jasper, but as the cold froze her blood and the water went down her throat, she began to weaken. Her world shrank to mere survival as her ordeal went on and on.

‘No,’ she cried as a huge boulder loomed before her, cutting the river in two. It would split her head open like a walnut shell and crush her bones to powder. She tried to turn her head away and kick with what little strength she had in her legs, but the current was too strong. She was going to die.

Something took hold of her wrist and yanked her sideways with enough force to make her cry out in pain. Rowenna slid around one side of the boulder and found herself in flat water - calm but fast-flowing. There was a roar in her ears, growing louder.

‘Swim, lass. Come on. Kick for the bank.’ Jasper was beside her, holding her up, kicking against the current. She sobbed with relief as they slowly drifted towards the bank. Her feet hit something solid, and Rowenna scrambled up a steep, muddy bank strewn with fallen branches and tussocks of grass. Her hands tore on gravel and rocks, but she kept going. Jasper kept pushing her from behind, but her knees would not work properly. She fell and vomited out water, but there was to be no respite.

‘Get up,’ said Jasper in a hoarse whisper. ‘We came a long way downriver, but they will be hunting for us. We need to move and get warm, lass. Come on.’

‘No. I cannot. Please, just leave me here. Go on without me.’

He gave a weak smile. ‘As you went on without me? Get up, Rowenna. We are on the opposite side of the bank, so they must find a place to cross. But the cold will kill us before they do. We have to keep going until we find shelter.’

Thunder rumbled overhead. It was useless. ‘There is no shelter,’ cried Rowenna.

Jasper took her face in his hands. ‘Hear that sound? It is the falls. There is a drop just around the bend in the river. I know this place. I know where we are. I think the woods thin out to farmland somewhere near here. If we can reach open ground, we can find shelter, a fire, and safety. Do you trust me, Rowenna?’ He shook her to make his point, and she could only nod between chattering teeth.

They staggered away from the river. Jasper seemed to have regained his strength where she had lost hers. Many times, she fell down, only for him to haul her up again. The day grew colder and darker. Her wrist was a world of pain, and she could not feel her fingers and toes.

Just when she could go no further, Jasper stopped. ‘Smell that?’ Rowenna could only shake her head. He smiled. ‘Smoke. We are close.’

The woods thinned into a green field of high grass. In the distance, a thin ribbon of grey floated up from a cottage tucked within a shallow little valley. Jasper held her up by the waist and hurried onwards. They burst in through the door of the cottage to find four terrified occupants – a couple and two skinny children.

‘If you give us dry clothes and a horse, I will give you my weight in coins and my eternal gratitude,’ Jasper declared.