Chapter 22

22

B raden had approached the carriage cautiously, dismounting some distance back along the road when he had seen the flickering lamp illuminating the tarpaulin. As he had approached, he had heard voices, assuming them to be those of Roselyn and Duncan, the carriage driver.

But as he had come close, his hand on the hilt of his sword, creeping low in the darkness, he had realized who was in the carriage with Roselyn. It was his Uncle Donald, and as Braden had listened, a terrible tale had unfolded. He thought back to his dream, imagining himself back outside the door of his parents' bedroom, watching the figure with his back turned. Could it really be Donald?

He's admitted it – listen to him, boastin' of what he's done. And my mother, too. Tis' too awful. All these years, and yet… he said to himself, even as he knew it had been obvious the whole time.

Why should it not be his uncle? Donald had every reason to be responsible for the murder. He was a man hungry for power, and in the aftermath of Braden's father's death, he had slipped effortlessly into his new position as laird. There had been nothing to prevent him from doing so, no challenge to his authority, and Braden was sent away, never to return.

Even then, he had held power – far more so than he ever would have done had Braden's father still been alive. Donald was the power behind the throne, and as Braden listened, it all made sense. He was threatening Roselyn, telling her he would kill her if she revealed the truth Donald believed Braden had told her. He had known it all along, and yet he had held back, knowing the consequences if the truth had been revealed.

But I said nothin' – I didnae know the truth of it, either. When I spoke, it was nae to say who killed my father, and yet the sight of the bandit, made me realize… I've been so stupid. I knew it was him, I just didnae have the proof, Braden said to himself, still listening as his uncle continued to threaten Roselyn.

She sounded terrified, and Braden knew he had to act. She had defended him to his uncle, but her slip of the tongue had brought about an even greater rage in Donald – the revelation of Braden's speech enough to make him raise the dagger to strike.

But as he did so, Braden leaped forward through the darkness and into the carriage. Roselyn screamed, and Braden caught hold of his uncle's arm, pulling him backwards as Donald let out a cry.

"Braden!" he exclaimed, falling backwards from the carriage, as the two of them rolled onto the ground.

The horses were startled, and the carriage jerked forward as Braden and his uncle wrestled on the ground. Braden knocked the dagger from Donald's hand, as his uncle aimed a blow at his face, knocking him sideways.

"Ye bastard," Braden cried out, no longer holding back the voice his uncle had silenced for so long.

Donald appeared so surprised at the sound of Braden's voice, he was momentarily stunned, and Braden struck out at him, once, twice, three times, revenging himself for his father's death. Donald let out a cry, struggling with Braden, who was overcome with such anger he would gladly have killed his uncle there and then.

"Ye knew… ye spoke," Donald said, the two of them struggling in one another's arms.

"I didnae know, but I do now. I know what a treacherous bastard ye are. An eye for an eye – ye deserve the noose," Braden replied, striking his uncle again, as Donald let out a cry.

"Yer father took everythin' from me. He deserved what he got," Donald snarled, but these words only served to enrage Braden further.

With a cry, he lashed out at Donald, striking him again, as the sound of horse's hooves could now be heard in the distance. Braden rolled onto his side, hauling his uncle to his feet, and throwing him back against the carriage. Roselyn had climbed down now, and she, too, grabbed at Donald, holding him back, as Braden held his sword to his uncle's throat.

"Tell me why I shouldnae run ye through with my sword? I should kill ye now. Tis' all ye deserve," he said, but Roselyn stayed his hand.

"Braden, no, don't give into your anger. Think of your mother and sister – let justice be done. Your dream, Braden, you can see the face in your dream now. You can have peace," she said, imploring him to stay his hand.

Braden loosened his grasp, and his uncle breathed out deeply, staring fearfully at Braden, even as he continued to hold his sword to his throat.

"I could kill ye, Donald – remember I didnae," he said, as shouts now echoed through the trees.

But as he loosened his grip, his uncle lunged at him, grabbing the hilt of the sword, struggling with him, the flat of the blade across Braden's chest. Donald had a murderous look in his eyes, seized by a madness, his mouth foaming, and he cried out, struggling with the sword, as Braden pushed him back.

With a cry, Donald fell on the sword, rolling lifelessly onto his back, as Braden, too, fell back. Roselyn was at his side, the two of them now staring at the body lying limp before them.

"He gave you no choice," Roselyn said, as voices sounded through the trees.

"My laird? Where are ye? Braden?" Calder's voice called out, and Braden glanced at Roselyn, who gave a weak smile.

"It's over now, Braden, you can talk," she said, and in a loud voice, Braden called out through the darkness.

"We're over here. Hurry now, Calder, we need ye," he called out, and a moment later, Calder and several other clansmen came into view, their swords drawn, holding up lamps in their hands.

It felt good to have spoken, even as the clansmen exchanged astonished looks with one another. Calder stared at Braden in surprise.

"What happened here?" he asked, staring down at Donald's lifeless body.

"We discovered the truth, that's what happened," Braden replied, directing two of the men to take the body away.

They looked surprised, glancing at one another, but it was Roselyn who now spoke. "He admitted it all to me – how he killed the laird's father, and threatened his mother with Braden's death, should she not keep him quiet. His silence began then, but now…" she said, and Braden smiled.

"I'm released. Did ye hear that, men? Yer laird speaks, and tis' an order I give ye. Take this man – the man I once called my uncle – back to the castle. See he's buried and forgotten," Braden said.

The men nodded, still looking at one another in astonishment. But they did Braden's bidding, hauling Donald's body away.

"Ye did what ye had to do," Calder said, but Braden shook his head.

"I might've spared him. Tis' an eye for an eye, but… nay, he killed my father, he took away my speech, and he'd have taken away all I hold dear now, too." Braden replied.

"I understand. And ye've done a great thing, Roselyn, tis' because of ye he speaks. Nay one else has ever coaxed it from him," Calder said.

Roselyn stared at Braden in astonishment, even as he looked at her curiously. Surely, she realized it was she who had brought forth his voice?

"But I…" she stammered, and Braden shook his head.

"Tis' because of ye, Roselyn. I'd never spoken – nae since that night. But ye brought it out of me," he said, and Roselyn shook her head, clutching at her cheeks, as though in some awful realization.

"But I… I heard the two of you speaking," she said, glancing at Calder, who nodded.

"Aye, I was as surprised as anyone. When he spoke, I was entirely taken aback. I couldnae believe it," he said, and Braden laughed.

"Aye, the look on yer face. And to think of all the years we've known once another, never to utter a single word. Tis' remarkable," he said, and Calder nodded.

"But now ye can speak, and ye should speak. The clansmen know, and so did yer un— Donald. Ye cannae keep it a secret now," he said.

He had no reason to hold back. His speech had returned, and he wanted to use his words for good. Braden wanted to be understood, and now, with nothing to hold him back, he wanted to tell Roselyn how he felt.

"And I will, but for now…" he said, glancing at Calder, who nodded.

"I'll see Donald's body safely back to the castle. I doubt yer mother will shed many tears over the man who murdered her husband," he said, and nodding to them both, he went off, calling out orders to the clansmen, and leaving Braden and Roselyn alone.

"Will ye walk with me, lass?" Braden asked, for there was a great deal he needed to say.