The Unbroken Circle

Chapter 6

Markus's POV

As the prison door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but feel angry, frustrated, and utterly useless. I had fallen so easily into Fitzwilliam’s trap that a child could have seen through it.

Damn it!

I knew that every time I left Castle Big Rock, I was risking my own life. The Prince of Wales might have protected me, and no one dared speak against the Duke of York, but my enemies were many and powerful. As soon as they had the chance, they would kill me.

I knew that!

Still, I couldn’t sit idly by and let the King of England do whatever he pleased with our home. The Weapons Act! The Cloth Act! Acts of utter stupidity, if you asked me. If they wanted to erase Scotsmen from Scotland, they needed more than just Acts to do so. And as I stood there, I found myself cursing the Jacobites for their foolishness. Sure, their intentions may have been pure and noble, but as they all fled to France and lived comfortably there, we were left behind to face the consequences of their actions.

Shit!

A low moan pulled me from my thoughts, forcing me to focus on our current predicament. Giles, the man with a bullet still in him, was in pain.

“Giles?” I asked, stepping as close to him as I could. “How are you holding up?”

They had placed him in a separate cell from the rest of us, but we could still see and speak to each other. There were only two guards, and the light was scarce. Fitzwilliam was certain that there was no escape for us.

“It seems he’s still leaking,” Irve said with his usual inappropriate grin as he tended to the man’s wound. “But he’ll live long enough for them to kill him.”

“I’ll live as long as I have to,” was Giles’s stubborn response, though he knew it was best to save his strength rather than defend his honor to the likes of Irve.

“Well, we’re in a tight spot, alright,” Pippin said, glancing out the window. “What do we do now, m’Lord?”

I didn’t answer. I had no idea what to do. I had been caught or ambushed before, but with some luck, I had always managed to escape. But those had only been small search parties—two or three men at most—whom I could easily take on. Fitzwilliam, however, was in a category all his own. Not only did he bring the manpower to apprehend us, but he also had the brains. And this time, I feared, Captain Fitzwilliam had even outsmarted me.

If only I had some kind of ace to play…

“Hey, the lass is with them,” Pippin said, his window overlooking the yard.

“Lass?” I asked, though I immediately knew who he was talking about. Lucky. The unusually fair-haired, blue-eyed girl. Of course, she had leaped to the next man who could offer her help. She had nothing to do with this and just wanted to go home. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to die. But it annoyed me that those fiery eyes and playful smile would now belong to Fitzwilliam. Not to mention that she had implied I had forced myself upon her. She had already looked that way when I found her—or when she found me, whichever it was. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even asked her why she looked like that, her face scratched and her hands bruised. My mind had been solely focused on getting away from the garrison and back home.

“Boy, did she betray us fast,” Irve said bitterly. “Didn’t Your Grace offer to help her?”

“Perhaps she didn’t like His Grace’s musky smell,” Pippin quipped, bringing reluctant grins to our tired faces.

“This is our fight, not hers,” I answered, repeating what I had just thought myself. They agreed and didn’t mention her again. After all, we were still alive thanks to that woman.

Suddenly, we were all pulled from our thoughts when a priest arrived. He wore the traditional brown cloak of a high-ranking monk, with pearls and a belly that matched his position.

“Come, my children,” the Father said, his voice grand and performative. “Confess your sins now, so the Lord will look upon you with mercy.”

We exchanged skeptical glances. None of us were religious, and we were certainly not Catholics. But if we were going to die, we might as well try to make peace with our maker. A silent vote passed among us, and the responsibility fell upon the oldest.

“Alright, Father,” Irve said with a heavy heart as he stood. “I’ll confess my sins…”