Staggering to his feet, Murdoch washed his face, cleaned his teeth, and rinsed out his mouth, continuing to think on how all the signs had been there years ago. Robert had always been arrogant, always insisted things go his way, and had been vicious if they had not. Too often that viciousness had been aimed at Murdoch. He still carried some of the scars and might well have died if not for Lachlan and Duncan.
He had been very young when he had realized that Robert was more than just a mean, angry brother; he was someone to be very careful around, even to avoid as much as possible. Being just a boy, Murdoch had become attached to an animal, and of all things to care for, he had gone and loved a rabbit, one of the ones the cook raised so they had meat handy. Cook had not minded and had even helped him learn how to tend to its care. He had even named it Bruce after their great king his father had told him so many stories about.
Then it had gone missing. After searching everywhere, he had gone to the kitchens to get something to eat before searching some more and there had sat Robert, grinning and eating what Murdoch had known was his rabbit. Just in case he had proven to be too stupid to know it, Robert chuckled and loudly demanded the weeping kitchen maid cut him some more of Bruce.
Murdoch had just stared at him until Robert had offered him some. That was when he had vomited all over the table and on Robert. He had then run as fast as he could to his father’s side. The man had asked no questions but kept him close to protect him, and had done so until last year when he had considered Murdoch old enough and big enough to adequately defend himself.
His father had begun to change shortly after that day. The pleasant, even funny man he had known had faded away into an angry man. Then Murdoch’s mother had drowned and the only witness had been Robert. Everyone had been puzzled because his mother had been terrified of water and never went near the burn. His father must have seen something, or Robert had said something, but Murdoch was certain that was when the laird had realized that his heir was mad and would always have to be watched closely. His father had done nothing then either, except to grow even angrier. Murdoch had always wondered if the anger was because his son was wrong or because he had to keep hiding crimes to protect him. Murdoch also had to wonder how many of the dead at Wasterburn in the last ten years had actually been caused by Robert.
Walking outside to find Lachlan and Duncan, he kept an eye on how the other men acted around Robert. There were no cheerful greetings when the man walked up, most of the men keeping their eyes downcast. Any woman near him slipped away as fast as she could without actually running. Then Murdoch saw the gallows Robert was carefully inspecting, despite the fact that it had stood in the bailey for years, and his heart sank. He could not let this happen.
When Jonathan, the man who had taken Old William’s place, called them inside for the judgment, Murdoch hurried to follow Lachlan and Duncan and prayed he could find the backbone to speak up in Mora’s defense. He glanced at Robert, who had chosen a seat in the front, and his heart sank. The man was smirking, and Murdoch knew he would do all he could to make the judgment move quickly and give him what he wanted.
*
Mora wished there was a window in the cell she could look out, but then realized there never would be such a thing. It could allow a prisoner a way to escape. There were certainly many men taller and much stronger than she was who would make their way out of the window.
She had managed to sleep for a while after breaking her fast, but nothing could help her sleep now. Although she did not have the sun to look out at, she was certain the time for the laird to make his judgment was swiftly approaching. The hope she had held, that someone would put a stop to this, was long dead. No one knew she was innocent of what she had been blamed for.
The one she had a difficult time understanding was her uncle. While it was true that he was still sickly, even fragile, after the poisoning, his unrelenting belief in his son was absurd. There was just so much evidence against Robert. How could the laird ignore it? Lachlan, Murdoch, and Duncan may not have accused Robert of anything immediately provable, but they had certainly tried many ways to fight his father’s blind belief in his heir.
“I am sorry, Maman,” she whispered. “I did try to give Andrew a good life, but I havenae had him long. Still, I believe he will have protection. Gybbon Murray kens the danger Andrew is in and he has a lot of allies. Good, strong allies like Laird Cameron.”
“Who are ye talking to, lass?”
Mora was startled and held a hand over her rapidly pounding heart as she looked at Hilda. “Oh, ye startled me. I was just talking to my mother.”
Hilda’s eyes widened and she looked around. “Ye can see her?”
“Och, nay! I just thought I would speak my thoughts to her aloud.”
“Ah, hoping she will hear ye in heaven. That would be helpful. Manus will be here before long, once the laird’s done eating and decides he needs to do some judging. Already made his sons come in and they are waiting. I remember your mither. Rona? Aye?”
“Aye, she came here a few times.”
Hilda nodded. “She did, but I was speaking of when she was young. Sent here to learn how to run a keep and mayhap marry the heir. The old laird wanted a match.”
“He wanted my mother to marry the laird? But she wed David.”
Hilda leaned up against the bars and crossed her arms. “It was the plan, but she liked David. Any fool could see it, and the old laird was no fool. Our laird wanted her, too, because she was a bonnie lass, so the old laird told his eldest son to mark her as his, show her what she would be missing if she chose David. The old laird was a mon who felt women had but one purpose, to serve a mon however he felt she should. Taught his sons that, too. David didnae learn the lesson; he was a gentle soul. Our laird followed his da’s teachings.”
“So, the laird did as his da said and raped my mother.” Mora felt like weeping for her mother. “But then how did she wed David if the laird had claimed her?”
“Because David caught him. Sadly, after and nay before he did it, and nearly killed his own brother.”
“My da did?”
“Difficult for me to believe, too, but aye, David beat him badly, then he took your mither away and wed her. His da decided David had finally shown that he was a mon and gifted him with the manor house and lands. I suspect he was going to do it anyway as he only had the two sons, weel, two sons by his lawful wife. Took your da nearly a year before he moved back and settled in the manor. He ne’er set foot in this place again, except for a time or two when your mither wanted him to, though I dinnae ken why she would want to.”
“She felt it was important and I think she believed Da needed to try to mend the break between him and his brother. She gave that up though.”
“Nay surprised. The laird is nay a forgiving mon or one who apologizes for doing wrong. David never much liked his brother, hated him after what he did. And the laird ne’er made any effort to change. I think she had a small hope that the laird would change and could prove to be some help to her lads. Ye still have no word on their fate?”
“Nay. Nothing.” She smiled faintly at the worried Hilda.
“What are ye doing down here, Hilda?” demanded Manus as he hurried down the steps.
“Just keeping the lass company.”
“Weel, they are waiting upstairs for her.” He walked up to the cell and began to unlock the door.
“Sorry, lass,” Hilda said as Mora stepped out. “I have thought on little else save how to stop this and have nary one good idea. The one I did try hasnae brought any results, though I thought for certain it would. The old fool kens this is wrong, but he willnae allow that cursed son of his to take any blame. Ne’er has.”
“Thank ye for trying, Hilda.”
“Weel she can just stop trying,” Manus snapped. “He is our laird, woman!”
“God help us,” Hilda muttered, and she looked close to tears as Manus tied Mora’s hands in front of her.
Manus sighed and nodded. “Ye dinnae have to come, Hilda.”