Chapter 13

CRàDH PRISON - FEbrUARY 25, 1385

" D eliver me from my enemies, O my God; and defend me from them that rise up against me. Deliver me from them that work iniquity and save me from bloody men. For behold they have caught my soul..."

The words of Léo's favorite psalm spilled from his lips as he ran the perimeter of the parapet, his mind focusing on training his body for the fight to come. Sweat trickled down his temple and neck, falling down his chest where his heart now beat strong. Rounding the parapet again, he cast his eyes over the night-cloaked sea and watched the mist of his breath disappear upon the cold of the night.

"But thou, O Lord, shalt laugh at them: thou shalt bring all the nations to nothing." No, none of it existed, the prison or the open sea, the good or the evil, outside the will of God.

He finished his final lap and fell to his knees, looking up into the great expanse of the heavens. Stars covered the open skies spread out upon a blanket of milky dust. His chest heaved in and out. He'd done it. Ten stair runs and fifty laps.

Sucking in the fresh, cold air, he bowed his head. "Unto thee, O my helper, will I sing, for thou art God my defence: my God my mercy."

" Talking to yourself again, Francach ?" Eoghan extended a hand and pulled him to his feet.

"To Jesus. As I've told you, Irlandais."

Eoghan snorted. "You really think he's listening to someone here in this place? The armpit of Scotland? He's forgotten us."

Léo wiped his forehead against his tunic. "He hasn't. I know he's listening. I know he's here."

Eoghan laughed. "Watching you grapple? Lifting and throwing stones? Doing press-ups with you? Running the parapets with you? He's got nothin' better to do than watch you get your muscles back? Rather arrogant."

Every few days Léo's new roommate protested against his mutterins , and so far he'd held his tongue. But today, he met Eoghan's skeptical eye.

"Do you really think Jesus is so small that he only sits far off on a throne in heaven? Do you think the savior of the world has not the ability to multiply into the heart of every man? That he is not with you in the ordinary?"

Eoghan crossed his arms over his chest and flapped them against the cold. "Crazy Francach. All I've ever known is hills with Jesus. First I'm up on the peak of the mountain, feeling him near, and then I'm in the pit of hell," he gestured around them, "and I don't feel him at all. He's abandoned us here."

Something in the honest words resonated with Léo, but his views on God had changed over the past fourteen months. He didn't need mountaintops to see God and attain a higher perspective; he needed the valley to see the greater existence of Jesus in every moment.

A psalm that supported his beliefs came to mind. "Whither shall I go from thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy face? If I ascend into heaven, thou art there: if I descend into hell, thou art present."

Eoghan held up his hands. "All right, all right. If I agree to read your Psalter, can we go in? I'm freezin' my donkeys off out here."

Léo let the subject drop and headed back inside.

Ducking into the prison, they followed the bright torches of the corridors, providing more light to the prisoners. Gillie clambered up to the bars of his cell and dropped his voice. "Léo. Any word of Joanna? "

Regret filled him. "Aye, Gillie."

Gillie registered his tone. "It's not good news then? She's dead?"

Léo put his hands through the bars and gripped the old man's gnarled fingers. "Not dead. She's fighting. Gave birth to a healthy grandson two weeks ago, but it weakened her."

Gillie MacKinnon was the patriarch of a large family of ten daughters and dozens of granddaughters. Joanna was his youngest. He was imprisoned by Fingon for failing to pay a higher tithe? 1 than he could afford, a tithe that Fingon had imposed on Gillie's large holding of land at a three-hundred-percent increase with two weeks' notice, long after harvest had ended.

When Gillie had been jailed, Fingon had wasted no time seizing the land from him in the name of the church and evicting his wife. She'd been living feral in the woods when Angus found her, not wanting to burden one of her daughters with another mouth to feed.

"Chief MacLean knows a talented healer, Ursula MacFadyen. The last word from Mowbray's reports is that he is sailing her from Lochbuie."

Tears filled Gillie's eyes, worried thoughts spilling across his expression. "I cannae stand it. I want to see her."

Eoghan reached through the bars and brought a hand to Gillie's shoulder. "I will come to you as soon as I have word on her condition. I promise it. Chief MacLean is doing everything he can to help her."

The old man ran a hand over his bald head. "Thank God she's alive. So small, not like her Maw."

Eoghan patted him. "I know she's special to you." He swallowed. "God's with her."

Léo wondered how much pride it cost Eoghan to admit it, or even if he meant it at all.

Gillie touched each of their hands. "God bless you both. I know you have more people tae see."

Since beginning their work for Mowbray, Léo and Eoghan had identified the men on each floor who had been wrongly imprisoned. By the dark of the night, the guards allowed Léo and Eoghan to move among these men and tend to their needs. They gave away extra portions of food, read from the Psalter to those who needed encouragement, brought messages from families, and medicine for those who were sick. Here, Father Allen's work continued.

By the time they finished benevolence visits on the floor, only two hours of night remained. They headed back out onto the parapet and to the south tower, to Mowbray's quarters to write out the prisoner requests. Léo climbed the stairs, opened the door, and froze.

Standing just in front of Mowbray's desk was Gordon MacMorran. The head of the daytime patrol of guards. A loyal Niall supporter.

Mowbray caught his eye and invited him in, his voice brittle. "It's all right, MacKinnon. Come in."

Behind him, Eoghan drew rigid like he was preparing for a fight.

Gordon rose and offered Léo his chair, and he moved toward it, muscles drawing tight with tension. Whatever happened in this room would advance or crush their plans.

When he sat, Gordon smoothed a hand over his long beard. "I've suspected what's going on here for months. First you two being moved to the tower. Other prisoners being shifted about to better floors. Everyone on floors three and above have put on weight, but you two… you're gaining muscle back. I've been stuck on guard duty here for two years and never seen a man grow stronger."

Eoghan edged along the wall toward Mowbray, his eyes locked on Gordon.

"Another few months and you'll be as strong as you were when you got here. Maybe stronger. And I asked myself…how?" Léo dared not look at Mowbray. "I think the answer is obvious. You've struck a deal to get special treatment for you and your friends."

A bit of the tension eased away from the taught muscles in his shoulders. Gordon thought he had it, but he didn't have all of it.

" Oui. No point in denying that."

Gordon's face smoothed in surprise. "No, there isn't."

Behind him, Eoghan released a breath.

"My next question is what is Mowbray getting out of all this?"

No one said anything and Léo wondered if he was supposed to fill in the gaps.

At long last, Gordon cracked his knuckles breaking the silence. "I didnae realize you were able to interpret dreams and prophesy the future."

What?

" Mowbray told me about how you were able to predict he'd be made keeper of Cràdh, and the things you've foretold about his future as Chieftain of Mishnish."

What?

"Should I have a dream, would you do the same for me?"

It was true, Léo had experienced vivid dreams since he was a small child and been able to discern their meaning, but never had he considered to volunteer himself as a prophet. His eyes drifted to Mowbray who gave the barest raise of his left eyebrow.

Léo cleared his throat. " Is there a dream?"

Gordon eased into a chair. "I've been summoned to Dun Ringill Castle to meet with the laird. I have a feeling that this could be a momentous occasion for me. No guard has been summoned back to Dun Ringill after being assigned to this abyss. Should a favorable prophecy come to pass, I'll hold my tongue, and not disclose to your brother about your restored health and well-being. If you are unable to predict what this meeting is about, I'll have to inform Chief MacKinnon all about this operation you have here."

Léo's stomach dropped, but he kept his face impassive . "Go on."

"In my dream, I saw a field before me, and in that field three barley plants sprouted. In rapid time, each plant multiplied, ripening in seconds into a field ready for harvest. I took the barley and crushed them in my hand, creating grain for the laird's bread. He ate and was satisfied."

Meaning came into Léo's heart. "Your position before you came into this prison was to watch over the fields of the laird and protect the granaries, correct?"

Gordon nodded. "Aye. How did you know?"

Léo stifled a grin. Gillie. He kept his expression blank. "The three plants represent the months until the planting season. In this time, God will raise you up into my brother's favor and he will restore you to your position."

A smug look contorted Gordon's face, but he quickly bridled it. "I will return from Dun Ringill in a few days with word of your fate. Let us hope you're as skilled a prophet as Mowbray says."

Léo cringed, but said a silent prayer and tried to sound confident. "Of course I am."

Gordon turned to Eoghan. "Still waiting for the O'Donnells to ransom you?"

Eoghan's mouth flattened into a hard line, his face flamed with red. "Aye."

"Aren't you fortunate that you knew Léo from his time as a cateran? Otherwise you'd be food for the crows by now."

It took all Léo's self-control not to look at Mowbray. The man had saved both their necks with quick thinking, sending Gordon sniffing in another direction.

A flicker of amusement passed over Eoghan's face. "Aye."

Mowbray shifted in his seat. "You two are free tae go. Thank you for checking in at the end of the night as I've asked you. I'll lock your room before I leave."

God was up to something. As they made their way to their tower, Eoghan bristled. "What on earth was Mowbray thinking coming up with that nonsense story about you being a prophet?"

"He was thinking of how to save our lives, imbécile . He said whatever he needed to to keep the uprising against Niall moving."

They climbed the stairs to their tower and found triple portions of salmon and eggs hidden beneath their beds. Eoghan poured water into Father Allen's cauldron and set it into the fire for it to boil—stew and chicken it wasn't, but it was nourishment.

"Can you then?"

Léo sat down at his desk to record the prisoner requests, his eyes traveling over Moira's picture of Gabriel, then pushed it aside with his quill, revealing the little scrap of paper he'd saved from their last meeting. You have my heart. 'Tis always been more yours than mine.

"Can I what?"

Eoghan blew into the embers of the fire until the peat caught. "Predict the future?"

Léo closed his eyes and Moira's face came to mind . "I've dreamed vivid dreams since I was a lad. I will dream something over and over again until whatever lesson that is in my dream comes to pass. God seems to show me things that way. But I don't predict the future."

Eoghan scoffed and dropped eggs into the water. "Pity. I was hoping you could tell me when I'd make it back to God's own country."

"France?"

"Ireland, eejit. There's a lassie who broke me heart I'd like to see."

Léo yawned and stowed the records in the desk and hid Moira's writing, then stretched out upon his bed. "Believe me, I sympathize. I wish I could tell you. God's…"

"Timing. Yea, yea."

After they said a blessing and had eaten, it was time to sleep. Eoghan was asleep in minutes, but Léo forced his eyelids to stay open. He watched with gratitude as the soft blue light of morning peeked through the lancet windows. After so many days in the darkness, he was unwilling to miss it. His eyes drooped.

There was one lass he too longed to see, who came to him in dreams each night. Her swirls of blond hair, the clear of her eyes, the peach of her lips. Please God, look after my love. Send your angels to guard her with their swords of justice. Keep her safe within the palm of Your hand.

He would take her away with Gabriel. She would be his own treasure.

Reassurance buoyed his heart. It would come to pass.