Dark clouds overhead matched the dismal gray stones of Greyfriars Kirkyard and kept it hidden from the sun and its warmth. The damp clung to the weather-streaked walls as though tears had been etched in the stone. Oak trees now bare for the winter waved misshapen limbs over frost-covered grass. A cruel wind that whipped up the hill from the sea caught Mari’s cloak. Duncan circled his arm about her, holding her close to shield her from the bitter wind’s bite. Along a curved path they hastened, past the dank gravestones and ominous mausoleums. At a tall iron gate, they came to a stop.
Mari looked up to Duncan as he gave the guard on duty a nod. The guard walked down a path between the open-air cells, past shadowy faces that peered out from the dark. Minutes later, at the far end of the walk
