Chapter 18

In the end, the day improved to a greater degree than Sorcha had expected, because the most threatening clouds moved on without spilling their contents. The sky remained cloudy, but she could not imagine that any mere promise of rain would delay Hugo's return. Only a deluge might do that.

By afternoon, with no message from Edgelaw, the countess could barely contain her frustration, and by evening frustration had grown to fury. In the solar after supper, as she pretended to busy herself with her tambour frame and needlework, Sorcha sorted threads for her and Sidony sat with a moss-green kirtle of Isobel's, ripping the hem to adjust it for her own height. In desperation, Sorcha persuaded the countess to tell them more about Roslin and its environs.

She had barely begun when the gillie Ivor came in to tend the fire. As he bent over it, Isabella was describing a nearby cave where Wallace had once hidden.

Ivor looked past her to catch Sorcha's eye. Then, fingering a bit of what looked like paper peeping from his sleeve, he finished feeding the fire without speaking and left the chamber.

Sorcha wrapped the sorted threads carefully into the white linen cloth on which she had laid them out. Then, waiting only until Isabella paused for breath, she said, "Forgive me, madam, but will you excuse me for a short while?"

"Certainly, my dear."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sidony asked.

"Nay, you need not disarrange your work," Sorcha assured her with a smile, hoping her sister would not say that she also needed to visit the garderobe tower, which doubtless both of her companions assumed was her destination. She held her breath until Sidony nodded and returned to her ripping.

Emerging from the solar to the dais of the now-empty hall, Sorcha saw Ivor disappear through the archway to the northwest stair and hurried after him. She found him waiting in the corridor.

"Forgive me, me lady," he murmured, pulling the folded paper from his sleeve and handing it to her. "I didna ken how else to approach ye, and me cousin did say to give ye this gey quick so as no to get caught wi' it, ye ken."

"But how came your cousin by such a thing?" she asked, fearing from his twitchy manner that he would flee at any second.

Ivor looked over his shoulder before he murmured, "He serves the master o' Edgelaw. But he said to tell ye the lady did ask him to bring it to ye." Looking over his shoulder again, he fairly danced in his impatience to depart.

"You may go," she said, fighting to conceal her astonishment at receiving such a message in such a way. "But thank you, Ivor. I shan't forget this."

"Sakes, mistress, I hope ye will! Did me cousin no be a man o' fierce temper and a ready fist, I'd ha' refused him. I dinna want to think what Sir Hugo or the master will do an they find out I did give ye that without first showing it to one o' them. But Gil did say it be gey important ye get it tonight."

"I won't tell them," she promised.

With visible relief, Ivor darted back into the hall.

Hurrying upstairs lest Sidony change her mind and come after her, and hoping that Kenna was not already awaiting her, Sorcha went to her own chamber. Finding it blessedly unoccupied, she stood by the window and unfolded the paper. By the fast-fading daylight she saw, as she had hoped, a message from Adela:

Well-beloved sister,

I greet you well and have found a friend to aid my escape. If, God willing, you can come for me, he says we should meet near the abandoned peel tower a quarter mile northwest of this castle. You will see it as you come over the last hill. He says a private track leading south through your glen will bring you to this place.

If you can reach the tower by midday tomorrow, I will engage to meet you there, but pray, sister, do not fail me. I dare not wait long. Nor can my savior escort me, for to do so 'twould be to risk his very life. And, for mercy's sake, come alone!

I hope his lordship may be well occupied then, but we dare not depend on that. He believes Countess Isabella will send men to force him to submit to her summons, which arrived here yesterday to his great fury. He has ranted since and refuses to submit, swearing that his service to his true Liege Lord supplants all else!

Pray, dearest, do not fail your loving,

most wretched sister,

A.

Sorcha read the missive twice through, then refolded it and slipped it up the tight sleeve of her kirtle. Her first reaction was relief to know that Hugo had been wrong and she had been right. Adela had not gone willingly with his evil cousin.

Her next reaction, following immediately on the first, was an impulse to call Ivor back and ask if he could describe how to get to Edgelaw from Roslin or, better yet, if he would agree to accompany her there.

Then common sense intruded along with the memory of her promise to Hugo to go nowhere from Roslin without consulting him. Aggravating as that promise was, she knew she would not be happy with herself if she broke it. Nor, she had to admit, would she be wise to set out on her own or even with Ivor, if she could persuade him to go with her. That Hugo would doubtless forbid her to go, with or without an escort, only made the situation more aggravating.

Realizing that her strongest hope still lay in the countess's intention to call Waldron to account, and her legal control of Edgelaw, Sorcha returned thoughtfully downstairs. Perhaps Isabella might help her.

By the time she reached the solar, however, she had realized that although the countess clearly disapproved of abducting females in general, Isobel's abduction weighed more heavily with her than Adela's, if only because she believed Adela had gone willingly. To persuade her of anything else would take time, making it unlikely that Sorcha could do so before Hugo's now-imminent return.

As she lifted the latch of the solar door, she heard footsteps hurrying up the stone stairway from the main entrance a half-level below. Although tempted to wait and see if it was Hugo, she opted instead to rejoin Sidony and the countess.

She wanted at least a little time to think, to decide what to say to him and whether to show him Adela's message.

Sidony and Isabella looked up from their work and smiled as she entered and shut the door. Rather than take her seat, she crossed the room to one of the windows overlooking the courtyard, and looked out to see a gillie leading Black Thunder across the yard to the stable.

"Sir Hugo is back," she said quietly.

"Good," the countess said, setting aside her tambour frame. "I want to speak to him." As she moved to stand, the door opened and Hugo entered.

Isabella settled back in her chair, saying curtly, "I've had no reply from Waldron. If you will not confront him tomorrow, I'll go to Edgelaw myself."

His searching gaze had found Sorcha returning to her seat, and she detected a look of relief before he shifted his attention to his aunt. He said matter-of-factly, "As always, madam, you have only to command me."

"Have you brought guests with you?" she asked.

"Nay, though several will arrive tomorrow with Michael and my father."

"Must you wait for them before you can attend to Waldron?"

Sorcha held her breath as she reached for the cloth of silk threads, not daring to look at him lest he detect how tensely she awaited his reply.

"I need not wait," he said. "I've not yet had time to consult with the men I sent to watch Edgelaw during my absence, however. Nor will I speak to them before morning. They should return soon after dawn, though, and may bring information that will help us determine our best course."

Isabella pressed her lips together, then said, "Very well, but I will not brook his insolence, Hugo. Choose your own good time tomorrow, but you will inform him that he must present himself here to explain his actions. Tell him also that if he cannot explain them satisfactorily, I shall end his tenancy at Edgelaw and try him for his crimes. You might also remind him of the penalty they carry."

Hugo nodded but said, "It might be wiser not to remind him of that until he does present himself, madam. I'd as lief not have to conduct a siege of Edgelaw."

"Very well, although he must know what the penalty is."

"Aye, but whether he accepts that it could apply to him is another matter. I would remind you that he believes God protects him in all he does."

"Aye, well, we'll see about that. But enough about Waldron," she added. "I warrant our guests want to hear about the opening of the royal court."

As Hugo described the pomp and ceremony of the occasion, and the official presentation of the second Lord of the Isles to his grandfather, the King of Scots, Sorcha listened politely, but she paid more heed to the speaker than to his account. Soon she detected signs of her own impatience in Hugo's demeanor.

It was not long after that when he excused himself, declaring that he had business to attend with his men. Then, he said, he would retire for the night.

Excusing herself again moments later, Sorcha looked for him in the hall, but he had already disappeared.

"Sorcha, wait!" Sidony exclaimed behind her. "Are you going to bed now?"

Practically growling in her impatience, Sorcha paused where she was until her younger sister reached her, then said quietly, "I want to talk with Hugo, dearling, so pray go upstairs without me tonight. And sleep well," she added belatedly.

Sidony shot her a curious look but, as usual, said nothing and obeyed.

When Ivor entered from the entrance stairs, doubtless to see if the hall fires required tending, Sorcha asked if he had seen Sir Hugo. Receiving a negative reply, she frowned. If Hugo had not met him, he had not gone to the courtyard, at least not by the usual way. Mayhap he visited his bedchamber first or the garderobe tower.

Turning to the archway that led to the northwest stairs, she went slowly in case he had gone up the main stairway instead of down it. But as she entered the short corridor, she heard steps coming down, and soon Hugo appeared.

"What is it, lass?" he asked, smiling warmly at her. He had paused on the last step and thus loomed even larger over her than usual. "Is aught amiss?"

"No," she said. "I… I was just going to bed."

"That's a good notion," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Sleep well."

Adela's message felt stiff in her sleeve, and guilt flooded through her as he passed her, heading for the archway. Then his footsteps faded in the distance as he crossed the hall. She had meant to tell him about Adela's message, but the moment had come and gone while the information stuck tight in her throat.

Knowing he would have no cause to delay once he heard what the men watching Edgelaw could tell him, and would likely depart soon after dawn, she knew she had to tell him before then. She could not hope to persuade Michael or Sir Edward—assuming they returned in time—to help her get to Adela if they learned that she had not dared to ask Hugo. She had seen enough of both men to realize that each would demand to know why she had not, nor could she imagine either one understanding that meeting Adela in this particular circumstance could not possibly be true defiance of Hugo's orders. He was the only one who might understand that.

Accordingly, she turned to follow him but had taken only a few steps toward the archway before she heard him returning.

She hesitated, meaning to wait for him, to avoid drawing an audience as she explained about the note. Then memory struck her of the tunnel he had mentioned to Michael and his intention to use it for whatever secret purpose they had planned. In her concern about the message in her sleeve, she had forgotten that.

Without a thought, she turned and darted up the steps, grateful that Isobel's silk slippers made no sound on them. Just past the first turn, she stopped to listen.

Poised to fly if she heard him coming up, she felt a rush of excitement when he went down instead. Had he been going to the courtyard or kitchen, he would not have turned back, since he could reach both more easily from the main stairway. And where, she asked herself, would one be more likely to find a tunnel in Roslin Castle than at the lowest level on its landward side?

Quickly, she followed him, glad she could still hear his footsteps and certain he could not hear hers. She was so sure that he would go all the way down that she passed the kitchen-level landing before realizing that he had left the stairway there.

Returning, she heard footsteps echoing down the dark corridor, and when she saw that he had lifted a lit torch from one of the wall holders, her confidence in his destination increased. However, she had been on the kitchen level only to take her bath, and then she had followed Kenna down the main stairway to get there.

The area through which he led her was a warren of small dark chambers, some with doors and some with open archways. Peering into the dim interior of one of the latter, she decided they must all be storage chambers of one sort or another.

The entire area was dark except for the glow of Hugo's torch in the distance, so when he abruptly turned left and vanished, she picked up her skirts and moved as swiftly as she dared to follow him.

Her eyes adjusted so that she could see the faint glow of the kitchen fire ahead and judge approximately where Hugo had turned. She passed two arched alcoves before she came to the door. Sending a prayer to heaven that he would not be waiting for her on the other side, she lifted the latch and eased it open. That both latch and door moved silently reassured her. And when she saw that it was not pitch dark inside, she put her head in carefully and discerned, in the fading golden glow, just before it vanished, that the tiny chamber contained rows of stacked wine casks.

She had seen a narrow pathway between them and had noted, too, that the glow of torchlight had disappeared in a narrowing line, as of a closing door.

Shutting the chamber door silently behind her, she used the fingertips of her right hand lightly to guide her along the stacked casks, and her outstretched left hand warned her before she walked into the far wall. She touched wood and some sort of heavy cloth draped back to one side.

Finding the latch, she lifted it and eased the door open, rejoicing when it moved as silently as the other had. Again the glow of receding torchlight revealed the route before her, this time down another, narrower, winding stone stairway.

Moving as quickly as she dared on the wedge-shaped wheel steps, fearing she would be left in total blackness any moment, she tiptoed down until the flickering light ahead grew too bright to dare going farther. She heard him moving, then an odd sort of thud. A moment later, the light steadied.

Hoping he was not looking right at the stairway, she peeked around its curve. The stairs straightened from there to the bottom, where Hugo stood with his back to her looking at a solid stone wall. He had set his torch in a wall holder to his right.

Even as she tensed to run back upstairs, fearing he had made a mistake or had set a trap for her, he reached forward with both hands and pulled. Not until he turned toward the wall where he had set the torch did she see that he held a rectangular piece of stone facing about a foot long. As he bent to set it on the floor nearby, she saw that its removal had revealed a similarly shaped opening in the end wall.

Straightening, Hugo reached into the opening, then pushed against that wall. A narrow doorway opened away from him, and he stepped through it. After a pause, he stepped back, carrying a second torch that he lit from the first.

He hesitated then, glanced at the slab of stone facing on the floor, then shrugged slightly before passing through the opening again. The odd stone door shut behind him as silently as it had opened.

Fairly flying down the stairs, Sorcha put her hand into the opening and felt for the latch. Her fingers encountered a rounded iron bar about the thickness of her thumb and a bit longer than her palm's width. First she tried to lift it as one would a door latch. When that failed, she pressed down. The door began at once to move away from her, much lighter to the touch than she had expected it to be.

Then, abruptly, she stopped its movement, recalling the torch behind her.

With no notion of where she was going, the idea of extinguishing that torch was disquieting to say the least, but she dared not take it with her. Nor did she dare leave it burning while she opened the door lest Hugo see its light. Hurrying, growing frantic with impatience when the torch resisted her efforts to put it out, she finally had the satisfaction of being plunged into demonic blackness.

Hoping she was not walking toward yet another pitfall, she discovered that the door had shut. Finding the opening again, she pressed the bar, and pushed.

More blackness greeted her when the door opened. As she stepped through, she recalled that the wine chamber was on the kitchen level and that the stairway from it had been no longer than any other from landing to landing. Since even the dungeon level of the castle was well above the river, she moved forward with the greatest care, feeling in all directions, trying to suppress the awful dread that one hand or the other would strike Hugo, lurking in the darkness to catch her.

Instead, her seeking right hand touched hard, dry stone, and her silk-slippered right foot told her it had reached the edge of a step. As she eased her way down, she noticed that she could make out a very faint glow ahead.

The steps proved both dry and surprisingly level, and her right hand found a taut, oiled-rope railing on the outer wall of the stair that made the going easier. Holding her skirts up with her left hand, she moved with greater assurance until the light ahead began to increase, telling her that she was catching up with Hugo.

Relief nearly made her dizzy, but she drew a steadying breath, exhaled completely, and went on. The stairway seemed to go on forever, and she began to fear that it was taking her all the way down to hell, when suddenly it ended.

Far ahead, she saw the outline of Hugo's now-wildly-flickering torch. He was moving faster than before, and she hoped she could keep him in sight without having to go so fast that she tripped on what was bound to be uneven ground.

To her surprise, the pathway they followed proved surprisingly even, too. She could feel the occasional rock through the thin evening slippers, but their silence on the hard surface made up for the lack of more protective soles.

Hugo wished the nagging sense of pursuit would ease. As certain as he was that it stemmed from nothing more than having left the latch covering on the floor, he still could not seem to shake it off.

He had glanced back more than once but had seen and heard nothing. His hearing was excellent, as was his instinct for danger, so he was as sure as a man could be that none lurked behind other than a small chance that a Sinclair servant might enter the wine chamber, notice the tapestry covering for the stair door thrust back, and have the temerity to investigate. Since that likelihood was so remote as to near the impossible, he decided he was simply on edge because of the full moon and the eerie, unending darkness of the new tunnel.

He would have liked to have had someone with him to replace the facing on the latch opening, but only Henry, Michael, and he knew of that tunnel entrance. And to ask someone to watch the cask room would only draw attention to it.

He realized then that Isobel might know of the tunnel. She knew a great deal, but even if she did know about it, he would not have asked her to leave her bairn and her bed so soon after giving birth, just to stand guard for him.

He could have snuffed the torch, of course, but it would snuff itself long before he returned and might well have done so before he reached his destination had he brought it along. It had, after all, been burning in its sconce for half an hour or so already. That was why they had put extra, well-oiled torches inside the tunnel entrance and at the cavern end, as well. In any event, having left the stone facing in plain sight of anyone coming down the stairs, who doubtless would have a torch of his own, he had seen no reason to take the time required to extinguish it properly.

One change he could and would make would be to set a bucket of water at the foot of the cask-room stair, so one could quickly put out a torch if necessary.

Having passed beyond the strongest portion of the tunnel, he knew he was now south of the river. The tunnel began to slope upward, and not long afterward he discerned the entrance to the cavern ahead.

Sorcha's feet hurt. Silent or not, ladies' silk slippers were not intended for walking any distance, and she thought she must have walked for miles. Clearly the tunnel did not lie under the castle or even close by, and since she had not the least idea what direction she had been walking after going down and down the winding stairway, she could not even guess with any accuracy where she was now.

As the thought crossed her mind, Hugo disappeared and blackness engulfed her so dense that she could not see her hand before her face. She stopped, telling herself that her eyes would adjust as they had before, that she would soon discern light ahead to guide her. Instead, as she strained to see, tiny white stars danced in the air ahead of her.

Hugo is there somewhere, mayhap just around a curve.

She nearly spoke the words aloud, but knowing he might hear her in the confines of the wretched tunnel, she held her tongue and ruthlessly stifled her fear.

But try as she would, knowing the tunnel was straight as far as the last place she had seen him, she could not walk straight without touching the wall on one side or the other. So although the thought of touching a spider or other insect—or worse—made her skin crawl, she let the fingers of her right hand skim the wall of the tunnel and held her left hand out in front of her as she had in the wine chamber. Then, taking care to keep silent, she moved forward as fast as she dared.

She slowed some distance before her outstretched left hand touched stone. But at nearly the same time, her right hand lost touch with the wall beside her. Feeling carefully, she found that the tunnel jogged briefly to the right before it ended. Since the walls felt as smooth as the one at the foot of the wine room stairs, she felt for a similar opening and latch, and was relieved to find one.

She had to pull the door toward her, but it came easily and silently, and to her enormous relief, torchlight gleamed ahead of her in an immense cavern. The area just beyond the doorway provided reassuringly deep shadows, however, cast by what appeared to be oddly shaped rock formations and immense boulders.

She could not see Hugo but believed she could enter the cavern undetected. Putting a hand to the other side of the door to hold it, she slipped through the opening, noting that the door wanted to follow her. But so intent was she on moving quietly that she was all the way through before it registered that the near side of it felt like rough, damp rock rather than the finished stonework on the tunnel side.

The light ahead flared brighter as if someone were lighting more torches.

Fearing that the increased light would reveal her to a watcher, she swiftly stepped into deeper shadow, and as she did, the door shut with a dull, barely audible sound. Immediately afterward, the reverberating sound of a trumpet startled her nearly out of her skin.

Under cover of its multiple reverberations, she moved to one of the tallest rock formations, peered around it, saw torchlight reflected on water, and realized that the cavern contained a large pond or lake. As the trumpet's last echoes faded, sounds of tramping feet replaced them.

She crouched low. Other odd, shadowy formations blocked portions of her view, but she saw a line of a dozen men or more dressed all in black entering a flat space on the far shore of the lake. They divided into a triangular formation of three lines, facing the mirrorlike water and the front edge of what looked like a dais.

Through the cavern then echoed an unfamiliar voice raised in stentorian tones: "Sir Knight Warder, have you informed the captain of the guards that we are about to open a council for the dispatch of business, and directed him to station his sentinels at their posts to guard this council?"

"Aye, sure, I have, sir," a voice that sounded like Einar Logan responded. "The guards do be at their posts."

Wanting a wider view, Sorcha had decided to shift position when movement to her right drew her attention, and she froze at the sight of a male figure coming toward her from that end of the lake. To her relief, he stopped yards away and turned in a sharp, military way to face the men across the water, clearly on guard.

The first voice said, "Are all present true Knights Templar?"

The second replied, "All present be true Knights Templar, sir."

"Most eminent grand commander," declared the first, "the council awaits your pleasure."

The nearby guard stood stiffly still, his gaze fixed on the activity across the lake, giving Sorcha confidence enough to shift position so she could see the dais.

A chair sat upon it, and a fair-haired man with a gold circlet on his head sat in it with his back to her. Two other men flanked him, also with their backs to Sorcha, but she easily recognized Hugo as the nearer of the two. He wore black clothing like all the others, clothing that he had not been wearing when she followed him to the cave. Two banners flanked the dais.

The man in the chair stood, revealing himself to be as tall as Hugo before he stepped to the ground and moved to face the assembled knights. He, too, wore black with lace trimming, and he had a medallion around his neck that she saw when he turned to walk in front of the assembly. The circlet on his head, his shoulder-length hair, and the medallion with its chain all glinted golden in the torchlight. He looked enough like Michael and Hugo to make her suspect he was Prince Henry of Orkney.

The third man on the dais turned, and she recognized Sir Edward.

Having walked two sides of the triangle, the fair-haired commander turned back to stand at the triangle's center point, facing the men who formed it. Although he did not speak loudly, his voice carried easily to Sorcha's ears.

"Sir Knights, you will now give the signs."

So fascinated had she been by the ceremonial gathering, the dais, its occupant, and Hugo that she had paid scant heed to the other men except as a group. But the first one to step forward in obedience to the command was Ranald of the Isles.

Ranald went through a series of unintelligible movements, then turned sharply and returned to his place, whereupon the next man stepped forward. One after another, they followed.

Rapidly growing bored with the ritual, Sorcha was repressing a fatal impulse to shout at them to get on with it, when a man from the depths of the triangle strode forward and torchlight fell clearly on his features for the first time. Recognizing her father, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle any audible sound of her dismay.

Macleod of Glenelg went rapidly through the same movements that the others had. The man who followed him was one she had seen at his grace's installation, but she did not know any of the others until the last, who was Michael.

Only then did she notice that Hugo was no longer standing beside the chair on the dais. With prickling unease, she wondered where he had gone.

The council proceeded with more ritual, including prayers and an odd recitation of numbers from each man in response to a question from the commander about encampments, which made no sense to her.

Her unease increased until she knew she would be wise to leave before the men did and Hugo returned to the tunnel. As quietly as she could, she eased back the way she had come until she reached the rough stone wall. Feeling for the door and finding what she was certain was one edge of it, she moved her hands gently over the nearby area, concentrating, searching for the latch opening.

By then the prickling had increased until it was unbearable, but she sensed no noise or motion until a hand tightly covered her mouth, a head bent near enough for lips to touch her right ear, and a menacing whisper she could identify only too easily murmured, "Not one sound, Skelpie, or I swear I'll throttle you right here."