Chapter 21
Mathe hurried back to the West Gate, taking side streets and alleyways where he could.
In hindsight, perhaps walking down to the Dog Ear in his full MacBrennan regalia had been a little brazen. He’d certainly attracted attention, some of it good, but most of it bad, and had to admit he’d underestimated the effect his sword and his kirtle would have. The Dog Ear was largely empty, so he ate a meal of thick barley stew, washed it down with a quick ale, then slipped away. Plenty of people had eyed him off, but nobody approached, which suited Mathe just fine. He wasn’t there to socialise, after all; just to be seen in his old outfit, and to get people’s tongues wagging. He wouldn’t know until that evening if it was worth it or not.
As soon as he’d left, Mathe was overcome with a sudden desire to become anonymous once more. Not MacBrennan, but just Mathe the woodworker. He put his head down and stuffed his hands in his pockets and wound back to the western edge of town as quickly and discretely as possible. The West Gate loomed closer, and he felt a surge of relief.
He had no intention of walking through the front door dressed as he was, so he slipped into the stables through the alleyway. Inside was dark and cool and he pulled the door closed and breathed deeply, thankful to be hidden once more. Now he just needed to get his outfit off, and he could try to forget what he’d just done.
For a few hours, at least.
Mathe walked to the end stall and picked up the first tool that came to hand; a small iron chisel. It was time to work.
“It’s true, then,” a voice spoke from the darkness.
Mathe’s body reacted faster than his thoughts; one hand dropped the chisel into his pocket and the other wrapped around the hilt of Mèirleach na Beatha. In an instant his sword was out, naked in his hand, before he even remembered unsheathing it. Even in the dim light, it seemed to glow. He spied a movement in the shadows and then a man stepped out, his face appearing from the gloom.
It was Rabby.
Mathe breathed out heavily and thrust his sword back into its scabbard. “What are ye doing, skulking around in the dark?” he asked.
Rabby shrugged. “Wanted to see for myself.”
“See what?”
The innkeeper gestured down at Mathe’s clothing. “This.”
Mathe felt suddenly self-conscious under that gaze. “It’s no” what it looks like,” he muttered.
“Oh? Because it looks to me like ye haven’t been entirely honest with people. I gave ye a chance, Mathe MacBrennan, and I wasnae the only one. Is this how ye’re going to repay us?”
“I told ye it’s no” what it looks like,” Mathe said. “And I’d appreciate if ye kept this to yerself.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
Mathe looked down. He hadn’t intended on telling anybody the truth, but he knew his wife wasn’t a stranger to the West Gate or to Rabby. The thought of Lilidh learning of his deeds filled him with something akin to panic; even as his mind traced the edges of the thought, he felt his chest tighten almost painfully. He decided to be honest with the innkeeper, rather than risk Rabby mentioning what he’d seen to anyone.
“I’m working for the laird,” he admitted.
“Blaine?”
“Aye. It’s a delicate matter, and I cannae say more than that. At least no” without his consent. Suffice to say, we’re trying to do a good thing.”
“Ye ask me to take ye at yer word?”
“And yer own eyes. Do ye think Blaine came here last week for a social visit? Ye”re welcome to go up to the castle and ask Fergus or Blaine yerself.”
Rabby nodded slowly. “So the mythical MacBrennan hasnae returned to terrorise the town?”
“Nay, Rabby, he hasnae. I meant what I said; I’ve changed, and that man is gone. I’m just borrowing his disguise for a day.” Mathe stepped forward and placed his hand on the innkeepers shoulder. “I meant what I said, though; please keep this to yerself. I cannae risk Lilidh finding out about it. She would misunderstand my intentions, and it would tear her apart.”
Rabby looked down, eyes closing, his face turning into a mask of sorrow. Mathe saw it and the pain returned. Tighter this time, and sharper; a sliver of steel that pierced his heart.
“Rabby, what is it?” he asked, and heard the shaking in his voice.
“She knows, Mathe,” Rabby answered softly. “It was Lilidh who told me that MacBrennan had returned.”
Mathe’s hand tightened on the man’s shoulder involuntarily, as he felt his knees buckle underneath him. “When?” he demanded.
“No” more than an hour ago. She stumbled past, didnae even see me. I asked if she was alright and she told me that MacBrennan was back.”
“Where did she go?” he asked urgently.
“Towards her house.”
Mathe turned without answering and wrenched open the stable door, fighting the surging panic that threatened to overwhelm him, and took off at a sprint. The sword bounced hard against his leg as he ran, but he paid it no heed, willing himself onwards, ever faster, while thoughts hammered into him from every direction.
What had he done?
He leapt off the cobblestones and onto the wooden planks without slowing down, feeling them warp underneath his boot, and then he was on the porch. He knocked quickly on the door.
“Lilidh?” he called. “Are ye there? Fynn?”
No answer. The door was closed and he tested the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it twisted and the door swung slowly inwards. Suddenly hesitant, Mathe slowly pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.
They were gone.
It was obvious from the moment his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he looked around searchingly. Their clothing, sheets, and small possessions were all gone, leaving only the furniture and a few larger pots and pans. Mathe opened the drawers and cupboards and saw that they were also empty. He checked every corner, every nook and cranny, then walked back outside. The old man next door was in his chair, as always, staring into nothing. He sat so still Mathe almost didn’t see him against the front of the old wooden house.
“Have ye seen Lilidh MacBrennan?” Mathe asked him.
The old man slowly turned his face. “Gone,” he said.
“Ye saw her?”
“Aye. Left with the lad. In a hurry, they were.”
Mathe nodded. No doubt they were. He went back inside and collapsed onto the floor in the centre of the room, feeling a strange burning behind his eyes. Behind him, Rabby pushed the door open slowly and walked in.
“They’re gone,” Mathe mumbled. All at once he found the very bedrock of his life had been ripped from him, and he knew just how much he’d needed his wife. Throughout the long years in the darkness of prison, she’d inspired him to wake up every morning. Even when he returned, and she told him to leave, he had somehow known that he could make things right.
But now? It was with a terrible certainty that Mathe knew Lilidh would never forgive him.
“Any idea where she would go?” the innkeeper asked.
Mathe nodded. “Aye. Up to the castle, most likely.”
“So, get up there and explain.”
“I… needed to do something first.”
Rabby shook his head and swore. “Mathe, ye’re about to lose the only good thing ye have left. Tell me what could be more important than that?”
Mathe looked up at him. “Would ye consider Blaine’s life to be more important?”
The innkeeper sat down heavily. “What in God’s name are ye mixed up in, Mathe?”
He smiled without humour. “The plots of traitors, Rabby, that’s what.”
And then he told the innkeeper everything.
The tale started with the proposition from Blaine, and the revelation of people in the town working against him. Mathe told of his initial refusal, then the realisation that it might be the only way to get his wife and son out of their house and into something that they deserved. He spoke of his trips down to the Dog Ear; the frustration and the disgust. The victory of King James against the Douglases, the movement of MacDonald troops across the Highlands, and the increasing urgency to uncover the identities of those who would rise against the laird.
At the end, Rabby blew his breath out. “So ye thought to try one last time tonight, in full MacBrennan regalia.”
“Aye,” Mathe said. “It was my last card to play.”
The innkeeper shook his head. “Ye know, Mathe, I cannae help but wonder if ye’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“In what way?”
“Ye say ye’re doing all of this for yer wife. To get her a house and the things she wants and deserves.”
“Aye.”
“But to do that, ye’re lying, going behind her back, and deceiving her.”
Mathe frowned at the truth of his words. “Aye.”
Rabby sighed. “I’m sure if ye were open and honest with Lilidh from the start, she might have told ye that what she really wanted would be a husband who would never lie, go behind her back, or deceive her. For whatever reason. Ye could even say that this is what she deserved, after everything ye’ve put her through. That kind of trust is more valuable than any house.”
Once again, Mathe felt his eyes sting at the man’s words. “Aye,” he whispered, unable to say more.
“I need to get back to the inn. Good luck, Mathe MacBrennan.”
And with that, the innkeeper turned and left, leaving Mathe on his own on the floor in the centre of the room. Rabby’s words hung in the air, and Mathe saw the truth in them. He’d let his wife down. Again. The thought hurt worse than any pain he could remember. He came north with a promise, and it had only taken a few weeks to break it, and lose his wife besides.
Mathe pounded his fist down angrily. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he ever change his mind and return to the castle, when what Lilidh really needed was for him to stay true to his word? He lay back on the floor and battled with himself, and in time a decision slowly bubbled to the surface.
His love for Lilidh, and his need to repair the trust that had been broken, was the most important thing. Certainly it was more important than a house.
Mathe stood and unbuttoned his belt, lifting the sword up. The accursed sword that he’d brought back into the world. With sudden anger, Mathe threw it hard onto the ground. It clattered and skipped to one side of the room. He looked at it, gave a satisfied nod, and turned to leave.
He had a marriage to save.
But no sooner had he reached out to open the door than it exploded inwards violently, knocking him backwards. He landed hard on his back and gasped for air, the wind forced from him. Dark shapes streamed into the house and pulled him up into a standing position with hands under his armpits. Mathe tried to pull away, but they held firmly. He counted at least six men, all wearing masks.
The door opened wider and a seventh man entered slowly, regarding Mathe from behind the mask. Mathe stared back in defiance.
The man reached his hand back and struck Mathe across the face with a closed fist. Black spots erupted in his vision, and he felt a tooth wobble in his mouth. He dislodged it with his tongue and spat it onto the ground along with a mouthful of blood. The sound of it hitting the ground was loud in the sudden stillness of the room.
“Take off yer mask,” Mathe rasped. “Show me yer face, coward.”
A chuckle came from the man before him, and he pulled the mask away. Behind, the face of Rodric Ross grinned cruelly at him. “It’s no” much of a secret,” Rodric admitted, “and soon ye willnae be telling anybody anything.”
Mathe’s mind reeled. Had he spent hours in the Dog Ear searching for those plotting against Blaine, and the answer had been in front of him the whole time? “Ye”re dead, Ross,” he grated, knowing the threat was nothing but an empty promise.
“Am I?” the man asked, tilting his head curiously. “Because to me, it looks like one of us will be dead soon. Perhaps it will be the man who hasnae been taken prisoner.”
“I swear -”
Rodric hit him again, in the stomach this time. Mathe bent as far as he could with the men holding his arms, and once again felt himself wheezing desperately for breath.
“Enough,” Rodric said, turning to his men. “Let’s get him out of here before someone sees us. This is already enough of a risk.”
One of them produced a large burlap bag, big enough for a body, and Mathe thrashed at the thought of what would happen next. He writhed, trying to exert force over the men beside him, but they stood as if they were made from stone. He looked up in time to see Rodric produce a long wooden baton. It looked like those the prison guards carried back in the Fleet, and Mathe knew only too well what they could do to a man.
“G’night, MacBrennan,” Rodric said with a cheerful smile, then brought the baton down heavily.
Everything snapped into black.