The Betrayal

CHAPTER Nineteen

While Grant stood talking quietly with Finlay and Dougal, Kylia stood before the blazing fire in the great hall, cradling Wee Lad in her arms. Neither the warmth of the pup nor the fire could chase the chill that had settled around her heart.

She loved Grant. And she’d come to love his home and people, as well. But how could she stay here, knowing the secret Hazlet harbored in her heart? Such a thing would eat away at the love she and Grant shared. He would resent the fact that she knew something she refused to share with him. And in time it would destroy whatever feelings they had for each other.

She heard Grant’s voice, low, resigned. “It’s settled then. You’ll leave on the morrow.”

Kylia pressed her face to the pup’s neck, wishing she could give in to the need to weep.

“My laird.” Ardis came rushing into the great hall and nearly collided with Mistress Gunn, who was just passing around a tray of goblets filled with ale.

“Have ye no manners, wench?” The old housekeeper shot her a withering look. “Ye’ll leave the laird’s presence at once.”

“But Mistress Gunn…” The girl struggled to catch her breath.

“Ye heard me. Out with ye.”

Ardis turned away. In the doorway she muttered, “The lady Hazlet said I was to tell the laird…”

“Hazlet?” Grant set aside his goblet. “What about my aunt, Ardis?”

The lass looked from Mistress Gunn, who was scowling, to the lord, who beckoned her closer. Timidly she retraced her steps, wringing her hands together to calm her nerves.

“When the lady Hazlet learned that Dougal was leaving Duncrune Castle to escort the lady Kylia to her home, she became…highly agitated. She sent me to fetch you, my lord, along with your brother and the lady.”

“To her chambers?”

Ardis shook her head. “Nay, my lord. To the burial vault.”

Grant stepped away from the others and crossed to where Kylia stood alone. “You heard?”

She nodded.

He put a hand under her elbow. “Come, my love.”

With Dougal on one side of her and Grant on the other, Kylia made her way once again toward the steps leading to the catacombs. With each step she could feel her heart thundering. Was Hazlet about to reveal her secret? If so, how would Grant and Dougal react to the news?

For Kylia, speaking the truth was as natural as breathing. But for someone like Hazlet, who had spent a lifetime in a lie, it might prove to be earth-shattering. It would surely bring pain to those who had innocently believed in her.

When they stepped into the burial vault, Hazlet was standing between the crypts of Stirling and Ranald. The flickering light from torches lining the wall gave her face an eerie quality of darkness and light.

“Hold.” She lifted an arm, bidding them to stop some distance away. She ignored Kylia and Dougal, keeping her gaze fixed on Grant. “As a lass, I was jealous of my brother, Stirling. You’re so like him. While he studied the ancient languages, I was taught needlework. But while I plied my lessons in silence, I listened and learned. When he went off to study with warriors, I remained behind, to learn the humble art of keeping house for a man. But in my heart I was as much a warrior as he. And when he returned to be proclaimed laird of our clan, I begged to be allowed to go with him to the field of battle.”

“A warrior?” Grant shook his head. “I never knew, Aunt.”

“How could you? It was my secret. And later, my shame.”

“I don’t…”

She lifted her hand for silence. “When Stirling returned home from his studies, he brought with him a cousin, Ranald, who had become his closest friend. Ranald was not like other warriors. There was a gentleness, a kindness in him that I’d never seen in another man. He genuinely cared what was in my mind and heart. We talked endlessly about everything. In time, I lost my heart to him. I was young and foolish, and wildly in love.” She swallowed. “When we learned that invaders were coming to our Highlands from two sides, it was agreed that Ranald would lead an army of warriors to the north, and Stirling would lead the rest to the south. A third army would remain here in the village, to protect those left behind.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “Something was happening to me that I couldn’t understand. I wept for no reason. I sulked, even when Ranald tried to comfort me. And when I learned the reason for these changes, I became convinced that my brother would have me put away in a cloister, never to be seen again.”

“Why would you think such a thing, Aunt?”

At Dougal’s question, she looked over at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Her eyes softened for a moment, before she blinked and looked away.

“I decided that I must act first, before my brother could succeed with such a deed. And so when he left with his army, I sent a missive to our attackers, letting them know where my brother would choose to defend our land.”

“You betrayed your own brother?” Grant’s voice cut like the blade of his sword, which he jerked from its scabbard, causing Hazlet to flinch.

“Aye.” She lifted her head. “I’ll blame you not for killing me in return. Death no longer holds any threat to me, for I have paid the price for my sin in ways worse than death.” Her voice lowered as she continued her recitation. “I had no way of knowing that Stirling had changed his plans, and had asked Ranald to fight at his side. When I learned that both my brother and the man I loved were dead, I locked myself away, vowing to remain in my chambers alone until death took me, as well.”

“But you didn’t die, Aunt.” Grant took a step closer, holding his sword in a menacing gesture.

“I did. In ways you will never know or understand.” She glanced at Kylia. “The witch knows what happened next, for she ripped my veil from my eyes and peered into my soul. And now, it matters not that you know, as well.” She lifted her head proudly. “I was not hiding out of grief, but of shame. For I was carrying Ranald’s babe.”

That had Grant and Dougal staring at each other in stunned surprise.

“What happened to the babe?” Grant’s tone hardened. “Did you kill it to spare yourself the guilt?”

“I suppose, in my dazed state, I contemplated it, though I never could have carried out such a horror against a helpless babe.”

“Why not? You’ve admitted causing your own brother’s death.”

“Aye. But I hadn’t truly thought about the consequences of my action. There was a demon inside me, causing me to behave in a manner that was foreign to anything I’d ever done before.”

Dougal stepped up to stand beside Grant. “What did you do with the babe, Aunt Hazlet?”

She looked away. “Your mother found her time coming too soon. Because of the battle being waged around the castle, there was no one else to assist. When Mary saw me, she knew at once that my own time had also come. In tears, I confessed my guilt and begged her forgiveness. I’ll never know if it was the shock of learning that I had betrayed her husband, or the birth itself. Whatever the reason, both Mary and her infant died.”

“Nay.” Dougal lifted a hand. “You mean our mother died. I am still here, Aunt.”

She looked at him then, and tears filled her eyes. “You are not Mary and Stirling’s son, Dougal. You are my son. I knew that by passing you as theirs, you would be loved by our people, instead of being reviled by them as Ranald’s bastard.”

In the silence that followed, she choked back a sob. “My punishment has been to watch you grow to manhood, without ever once hearing you call me mother.”

Grant’s voice was low with fury. “Is this why you betrayed me, as you betrayed my father? So that Dougal could take my place as lord?”

She nodded, too overcome to speak. Finally she said in a whisper, “Do not blame Dougal, for he is innocent of this.”

“I do not blame him.” Grant turned to the younger man. “He will always be the brother of my heart. As for you, Aunt…”

She shook her head. “There is a demon inside me. At times I can overcome it. At other times it overcomes me, and I give in to its voice.” She looked up, allowing her gaze to move slowly over Grant. Then she turned and studied Dougal as though memorizing every line and feature of his face. “You’re like him, you know. So like my beloved Ranald. Kind and patient and good. Forgive me, my son.”

In one smooth motion she reached into the pocket of her gown and withdrew a dirk. The razor-sharp blade glinted in the light of the torches.

Before any of them could move, she lifted it high and plunged it into her chest, then threw herself onto her lover’s crypt to die.

Dougal was the first to reach Hazlet’s side, lifting her gently away from the crypt and lowering her to the floor, while blood spilled through his fingers and pooled around her.

“Help her.” He cried to Kylia. “If anyone can save her, it’s you, my lady.”

“I wish it were so.” Kylia knelt in the dirt beside him.

“You are a witch.”

“Aye. But my gift of healing is weak. I would need my family around me to heal a wound as mortal as this.”

“Then summon them, my lady. I beg of you.”

Kylia looked to Grant, who stood over them, staring down at the woman he’d loved and honored for a lifetime.

He gave a grudging nod. “Aye, my lady. Dougal is right. We must do all we can to save her.”

Kylia closed her eyes and extended her arms. “My family. A boon I would beg of thee. Leave the comfort of your home and come to me.”

There was a roaring sound as though of a great wind. The light of the torches began swaying wildly. Suddenly in their midst stood three women in flowing robes. Each of them in turn greeted Kylia with an embrace.

“Mum. Gram. Gwenellen. I’m so glad you could come.”

“How could we not?” Nola said gently.

Suddenly there was another rush of wind. When the light of the torches settled, a fourth young woman stood in their midst.

“Allegra. Oh, Allegra.” The others gathered around to hug her fiercely.

“I was walking in the gardens with my beloved Merrick when I heard a voice summoning me. I fear my husband was a bit startled, but then,” she added with a smile, “he’s learned to expect the unexpected with a witch for a wife.” She turned to Kylia. “Why did you summon me?”

“I need you, Allegra.” Kylia turned to the others. “I need all of you. This is Hazlet, whose shame and guilt caused her to attempt to end her life.”

Wilona gently probed the wound. “It is grave, indeed. Perhaps it is best if she be allowed to enter the other side.”

“Nay.” Dougal’s cry had them turning to him.

“He has just learned that the woman he called aunt is really his mother.” Kylia caught her sisters’ hands. “Think of all the things in his heart that will never be spoken if she dies now.”

The women looked around, then began to form a circle around Hazlet.

Wilona turned to Dougal and held out a hand. “You are blood of her blood. It is important for you to join the circle.”

He took her hand in his.

Seeing Grant standing off to one side, Kylia held out a hand. “You, too, are blood of her blood, my love.”

At her endearment, the other women looked at one another in surprise.

As Grant caught Kylia’s hand, she stooped and picked up the wolf pup, tucking him into the front of Grant’s tunic. Then, as the circle was completed, she nodded to her grandmother, who began to chant the ancient words. Gradually the others picked up the words, until the room was filled with the sound of their chanting.

Suddenly the room fell away. They were no longer in the vault but were soaring high in the sky, with Hazlet still lying in the middle of the circle.

Though Dougal’s eyes rounded with amazement, he held tightly to the hands in his. Grant did the same, watching as Kylia and her family continued chanting the ancient words.

They floated over hills and meadows, Highland lochs and streams, and dense forests, before settling in a verdant meadow filled with the fragrance of wildflowers.

As they continued holding hands and chanting the words, they saw Hazlet’s eyelids flutter, then open.

“You’re alive, Mother.” Dougal dropped to his knees beside her, while the others watched in silence.

“Mother?” Hazlet sat up with a look of amazement. “Have I died and gone to heaven, then?”

“Nay. Kylia and her family brought you back.”

“The witch?” She looked around at the others. “Am I here to be punished for my sins?”

“Nay,” Wilona said gently. “You are returned so that you can have another chance to be the woman you were meant to be.”

“And what is that?” Hazlet asked.

Dougal took her hand in his. “Perhaps you can start by being my mother.”

She looked over at Grant. “And what of you, nephew? As laird, you have the right to have me put to death for my betrayal.”

“I do. It’s tempting, since my heart is heavy over the loss of the father I never knew. But how can I do less than Dougal? Or this woman, whose goodness puts us all to shame?”

Seeing Kylia standing beside Grant, a range of emotions crossed Hazlet’s face. “I have been wicked. Cruel. Dishonest. All the things I accused you of, my lady. And yet you would use your gifts to save me? How can I ever make amends?”

Kylia smiled. “You can live the rest of your life in kindness and charity and honesty. For it is demanded of all who are brought back from that other life.”

“I give you my word on it.” Hazlet’s eyes slowly closed.

Dougal looked up in alarm. “Is she slipping away again?”

“Nay.” Wilona knelt beside him. “She has had a long and difficult journey from the other side. You must leave her to rest now. My daughter and I will see to her care.” She turned to Gwenellen. “Perhaps you and the lad could explore our kingdom for a while.”

“Aye.” With a laugh Gwenellen caught Dougal’s hand and the two started off across the meadow.

Gwenellen paused to glance at her sister, still standing beside Grant. “Are you coming?”

Grant shook his head. “We’ll stay here, for there is much we must speak of.”

As Gwenellen and Dougal skipped away, Kylia caught the somber look in Grant’s eyes and felt her heart stop. There was something dark and unfathomable about him now that frightened her more than the Forest of Darkness, or even the secrets she’d uncovered in Hazlet’s heart.