Breathless from her covert flight up the stairs, Cristie stood before Elspeth’s door and took a deep breath. Please dinnae be locked. She lifted the latch and pushed. To her boundless relief, the door swung open with a weary groan. She entered and closed the door behind her.
“Elspeth?”
No reply. Cristie blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Elspeth, please.” She approached the bed. “Wake up.”
“What?” Elspeth gasped and rose up on an elbow. “Cristie! God’s teeth, what are you doing creeping about? You scared the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry, but I need your help.”
“With what?” Elspeth sat up. “Is something wrong?”
Cristie shivered. “Aye, terribly wrong, and I fear I dinnae have much time. The old ruined castle at the far end of the loch. Do you know if there’s a cellar? Or a dungeon? A place where a man might be held captive?”
Elspeth snorted. “What, in God’s holy name, are you prattling about? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Nay, but I fear I’m facing one,” she replied, her voice breaking. “Please, Elspeth. I swear this is no jest. ’Tis a matter of life and death.”
Elspeth fell silent for a moment. “I’ll no’ talk to someone I cannae see,” she said, at last. “There’s tinder on the table. Light the candle, and then explain yourself.”
Cristie, near frantic with desperation, bit back a curse. Her hands trembled as she struck the flint, but at last she managed to light the taper and turned back to Elspeth.
“Better,” Elspeth said, her eyes wide in the candlelight. “Now, tell me what this is about.”
“Ruaidri MacKellar.”
A frown appeared. “What about him?”
“He’s still alive.”
The frown vanished as Elspeth’s jaw dropped. “What? Have you lost your mind? Why would you declare such a thing? You must have dreamt it.”
“It was no dream, Elspeth,” Cristie said, clasping her hands at her breast. “I overheard Alastair and Tasgall just now, talking about him. About Ruaidri. He’s being held captive somewhere, but they didnae say where, only that he’s to be killed in the morning. Poisoned with wolf’s bane, I think. Alastair said…” She choked back a sob. “Alastair said the man was close to death anyway. That killing him would be merciful. I have to do something to stop it, but I dinnae ken where he’s being held, and we dinnae have much time.”
Fidgeting, Cristie waited. “Elspeth?”
Why did she not answer?
Elspeth continued to regard Cristie with a stunned expression, and Cristie let out a soft cry of desperation. “Elspeth, please! I swear this is no jest.”
Elspeth blinked. “Aye, there is.”
“What?”
“A cellar,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “There is a cellar at Ravenstone. A place where a man might be held. But I cannae believe… God in Heaven, Cristie, what has he done? What has Alastair done?”
“Do you think that’s where he’s being held?” Cristie wrung her hands. “I need to be certain, or close to certain. Is there anywhere else you can think of?”
Elspeth pondered a moment. “Well, there’s no way to be certain,” she said, “but nay, I cannae think of anywhere else they might have hidden him. The place is said to be a lair for evil spirits, which means no one ever goes near. ’Twould be the ideal place to hide someone they dinnae want found.”
Cristie nodded. “How far is it on horseback?”
“An hour’s ride at least.”
“At a gallop?”
“Nay, but at a good pace anyway.”
“And on foot?”
“Two, three hours.” Elspeth gave an incredulous laugh. “But you cannae go on foot, Cristie!”
“I have nae choice,” Cristie said, her voice edged with frustration. “I cannae take a horse, because I’ll be seen. Which means I’ll have to leave now to get there before Tasgall.”
Elspeth scoffed. “’Tis the middle of the night, and you’re exhausted before you even begin. By the time you get to Ravenstone—if you get to Ravenstone—you’ll be on your hands and knees. And if you get there in time, which is most unlikely, then what? You’ll just break down the door and let Ruaidri out? Or do you intend to wait for Tasgall and demand he hands over the key? Aye, and he’ll just hand it over to you without a fight, I suppose. Nay, Cristie. ’Tis a mission bound to fail.”
Cristie clenched her fists. “I realize it’s probably hopeless, but I cannae just stand by and do naught while a member of our clan murders the laird of another. I have to at least try and stop him.”
“Tasgall is Alastair’s hearth-hound. He’ll no’ disobey his master’s command. And if Alastair finds out about this…” Elspeth’s expression softened. “Look what he’s done to you already. You’d risk your life for a stranger?”
Cristie gave a bitter laugh. “Ruaidri MacKellar is no stranger to me, Elspeth. I’ve spent time with those who loved him and listened as they shared their memories. I have to try to stop this anyway I can. I’ll… I’ll even throw myself in front of Tasgall’s horse if need be.” She turned to leave. “I must go. Please, dinnae say anything to Alastair.”
Elspeth made a sound of desperation. “Nay, wait. Just let me think for a moment. Maybe there’s a way we can get a horse past the gate without…” She drew a sudden breath. “Odin’s bollocks. Of course! I swear there are times when I’m dafter than you!” She threw back the covers and slid out of bed. “Help me dress. Quickly.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re right.” Elspeth tugged off her nightgown and tossed it aside. “A horse would be seen, but ’twould be folly to go on foot.”
“So?” Cristie’s teeth chattered. “Like I said, I have no choice.”
“Aye, you do. There’s another way. A third way. A path as smooth as a piece of slate and straight as an arrow’s flight.” Stark naked, Elspeth bounced on her toes and nodded toward a large oak chest at the foot of the bed. “God’s teeth, I’m freezing. Pass me my shift and be quick.”
Cristie did as bidden. “A third way?”
“Aye, a quicker and easier way.” Elspeth pulled her shift over her head. “Have you ever rowed a boat, Cristie?”
*
They sneaked out of the rear postern gate and crept along the outer wall, keeping to the thickest shadows. Cristie, wearing one of Elspeth’s cloaks, carried a blanket, and a small linen bag containing food, a dagger, a tinder box, and a taper, also supplied by Elspeth.
“Assuming, by some heavenly miracle, you manage to escape into the mountains, you’ll need a blanket,” Elspeth had said. “The food, tinderbox and taper need no explanation. Nor does the blade, although I’m curious to know if you’re prepared to use it, if that’s what it takes.”
Her query had not been answered. Not then, and not since. A dozen different scenarios had played out in Cristie’s mind, none of them ideal. Until the time actually came, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. At this point, she wasn’t even sure she’d find Ruaidri, alive or dead.
“There,” Elspeth whispered, pointing to the water’s edge. “In that wee cove over by the trees. Do you see it?”
The small boat formed a black shape against the paler, rocky shore.
“Aye, I see it.”
“It belongs to Fergus. He’ll be as mad as a hellhound when he finds it gone.”
“He’ll get it back,” Cristie said. “Eventually.”
“The night couldnae be better, either,” Elspeth continued, glancing about. “No moon, clear skies, calm water. ’Tis perfect.”
Cristie gave her a reproachful glance. “If I didnae ken any better, Elspeth MacAulay, I’d venture to say you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Well, nay, not enjoying exactly.” She raised her hood. “But I confess, I do find all this rather stimulating. Cover your head, Cristie, and follow me. And watch your step, for Christ’s sake. Dinnae fall and hurt yourself.”
They scurried across the open space without looking back. Cristie stumbled once, stifling a cry, but kept from falling. Her heart drummed in her ears—a frantic accompaniment to her rapid breathing as she moved further away from the castle walls. Despite wearing a dark cloak and being under cover of night, she felt utterly exposed, certain to be spotted at any moment by those keeping watch.
But a call of alarm, thankfully, never came.
At last, they reached the small cove and Elspeth turned to Cristie, eyes bright even in the darkness. “So far so good,” she whispered, on a laboured breath. “But we must still be very quiet. The loch carries sound, especially when it’s calm, like tonight. Help me push this thing, will you?”
The small boat slid into the water with little difficulty. Elspeth grabbed hold of the bow rope, holding the vessel steady. “In you go,” she whispered. “Sit in the middle. Aye, that’s it. Do you ken how to steer?”
Cristie took hold of the oars and set them in the oarlocks. “Aye.”
“Good. And do you ken how to swim?” She frowned. “Not that it makes much difference, mind. The water is frigid. If you fall in, you’ll no’ last long.”
Cristie wrinkled her nose. “Aye, I ken how to swim, and appreciate the reassuring words.”
Elspeth shrugged. “Just dinnae fall in, and you’ll be fine. All you have to do is keep the wee boat on a diagonal course from here to the opposite corner.” She lifted her eyes to the sky and pointed. “See that star, there? Hanging over the horizon? That’s the mariner’s star. It doesnae move across the heavens like the rest. Keep it just over your left shoulder as a guide.”
Cristie huffed. “I’m rowing across the damn loch, Elspeth, not sailing to Ireland. Throw the rope in, will you?”
Elspeth hesitated a moment. “Cristie?”
“Aye?”
“I think you’re dafter than a duck. But I also think you’re very brave.”
Cristie smiled. “I’m terrified, in truth.”
“Just save the poor man.” Elspeth tossed the rope into the boat. “And Godspeed.”