Chapter 10
‘YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!’
Elspet hears a woman’s voice, refined in tone but loud and resolute, before she sees who it belongs to.
She’s following Beatrix and her mother around the western side of Dunrobin Castle, when they’re greeted by the shouting and an extraordinary sight at the entrance to the keep. A lone woman stands at the great doors of the castle, holding up a strange contraption and pointing it at three men.
Dorothea holds out an arm to still the others, and they watch from a position hidden by the castle wall. As Elspet surveys the scene, a sharp ranyie pang stabs at her stomach and her blood turns caal. The men wear the livery of the Earl of Orkney.
‘You will let us search this castle,’ the man in the lead says. He sits tall and proud in his saddle on a great chestnut horse.
At the sound of his voice, Elspet’s knees threaten to buckle under her.
She’d know that voice anywhere. It is Henry Colville – the Earl of Orkney’s personal parson.
The hope she’s allowed to creep into her bones over the last few days seeps from her body, replaced by a terrible dread.
She has come all this way, left her family and her homeland far behind.
And yet here is the Earl of Orkney’s most dreadful stooge, right in front of her.
She looks at Margaret and Beatrix, knowing the horror she feels is showing plainly on her face, and sees it reflected in theirs.
Colville continues to shout angrily at the woman with the raised weapon. ‘We come on orders from none other than the Earl of Orkney, cousin of the King. We have reason to believe this castle harbours a fugitive from justice.’
The woman takes a step forward, lowering her weapon only slightly. ‘You dare to issue orders to me on my own doorstep. You think I care who sent you? Nobody enters this castle without my permission.’
The contraption is raised again and aimed at Colville. His horse falters. He will hate being defied by anyone, let alone a woman. ‘We must help her,’ Elspet says, and is surprised that Dorothea is smiling.
‘That,’ says Beatrix’s mother, ‘is Lady Jean Gordon, the Countess of Sutherland. I don’t know who those men are, but I know they won’t get past her.’
‘But he . . .’
Beatrix puts a hand on her arm. ‘Mother’s right – and we must keep you hidden, Mistress Balfour.’
‘She doesn’t need our help, my dear,’ Dorothea says. As if illustrating the point, Lady Jean takes another step forward.
‘You are not welcome here,’ she repeats, ‘and if I have to tell you again, I will shoot all of you from your horses. I’ve been hunting wolves all morning and I’ve got my time to reload this marvellous weapon down to one second.’
‘What is it?’ Beatrix whispers.
‘It’s called a crossbow,’ Dorothea says. ‘Jean is quite taken with it.’
The four women huddle into the corner of the castle wall, hidden from Lady Jean Gordon and Henry Colville, but from where they can watch the scene unfold.
‘Come now,’ Colville says. ‘There are three of us. These men are the Earl’s trained soldiers and you . . . you are just one woman.’
‘Oh dear,’ Dorothea says under her breath.
Lady Jean doesn’t speak. She shifts her aim from Colville’s chest to his shoulder and fires the weapon.
The bolt from her crossbow skims his body, inflicting a peedie wound, but a wound nonetheless.
He gives a bloodcurdling scream as Jean reloads quickly and raises the weapon again.
This time she points it directly at Colville’s forehead.
This man has inflicted pain on many of Elspet’s countryfolk – he’s known for his expertise in torture far more than any religious devotion. The wound on his shoulder is nothing compared to what he has done to others, the screams he has elicited from innocent men and women. She feels no pity.
‘Who’s next?’ Jean turns the weapon on each of the soldiers in turn. ‘If your hands as much as touch those muskets, it won’t be a graze next time.’
The men look at each other, then at Colville, as their horses take panicked steps away from this formidable woman and her weapon.
‘You are insane,’ Colville spits at Lady Jean, clutching his shoulder. ‘And you will regret this.’
He turns his horse and leads the soldiers away, leaning sideways in his saddle.
Once they have gone, Dorothea steps out from their hiding place and the rest of them follow. Elspet’s legs shake as she walks – she tells herself it’s the result of another day on horseback but she’s on high alert.
As they move to the front of the great edifice of brown stone, Elspet takes in the sweep of the grounds.
Greens of every shade fill a garden of carefully tended plants and flowers – a treasure trove indeed.
And below the gardens is a broad view of the Moray Firth; she inhales deeply, seeking the saltiness in the air and trying to calm herself.
Beatrix hurries towards the Countess of Sutherland, who picks up and wipes the bolt she fired at Henry Colville before replacing it in the quiver on her back. ‘Oh, Lady Jean, you were marvellous.’
Jean looks up. ‘Beatrix, how lovely to see you.’ The countess has grey hair framing a face that shows the passing of the years – and her muckle eyes are a deep, intense brown. She wears a long rosary of black beads around her neck.
‘Now, come inside, all of you. We need to have a conversation about why I just had to chase the Earl of Orkney’s soldiers from my door.’