Flame

Chapter 17-2

“Joanna, when was it first that you suspected Mater?”

Her eyes snapped up to his, but she said nothing.

“Talk to me, Joanna,” he pressed. “We’re in this together.”

“This is my battle. Not yours.”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “Perhaps that was so before I came up here. But, to the world, at least, I am laird of Ironcross Castle. And now, especially after tonight, it is very much my concern.”

Her eyes flashed. “You have added no obligation because of tonight, but...” She raised a hand to silence his response. “You should be interested in this because of the fire in this room last night. That was no accident, you know. Someone was here. And they tried to kill you.” She looked down for a long moment at the redness of her hands. “You’re correct. Your life is in danger and you do have the right to know.”

“Fear of death has nothing to do with my desire to learn the truth. But having you beside me—openly, alive, and safe—that is what is driving me now.”

Her eyes were glowing when they focused on his. The affection Gavin saw in their depths made him draw in his breath. In the back of his mind came a pounding ache of grim memories of death, of those who had died, of those who had loved him.

“When was it that you first suspected Mater?” he demanded again, his voice sounding harsh to his own ear as he repeated the question. “From all I’ve heard from others, you and she were great friends before the fire.”

“We were friends,” she answered. “At one time, in fact, I was foolish enough to admire her. I defended her.”

“Defended her against whom?”

“Against my grandmother.”

“Did Lady MacInnes dislike her? Did she know Mater well?”

Joanna shook her head. “For all the years that the MacInnes men were lairds of these lands, I believe my grandmother spent very little time here. So I cannot imagine her ever having the chance to spend much time at the abbey—especially with Mater. But then, as I told you before, after that first summer—when I returned from the Highlands—it was my talk and praise of Mater that upset my grandmother the most.”

“And it was then that you spoke in her behalf?”

“I did.” She nodded. “And wrongly so. I know that now.”

“But did your grandmother give you a reason for her feelings?”

Joanna nodded again slowly. “Aye, my grandmother hates Mater because she is the one responsible for all the deaths at Ironcross Castle. Is that not reason enough?”

“Aye,” he said grimly. “It is reason enough...if true. But what proof did she speak of?”

Joanna shook her head again. “She was quite unwilling to reveal anything specific. That was why I defended Mater so strenuously. But I was so naive,” she said bitterly, running her hand absently over the blanket.

“Joanna, tell me what happened.” He tried to sound encouraging. “Make me understand what you felt, what you saw.”

“That fall, when I returned to Stirling, I was so full of dreams. During the summer, I’d had the chance to meet and work with Mater and with the women of the abbey. To me they had become the most incredible people alive. They were dedicated; they were good. I remember being so impressed by the strength of their will, by the amazing bond between them as they carried on in their efforts to help and protect their flock. So here, with that admiration well set in my mind, I went back to court and found my own grandmother calling the leader of these people ‘the daughter of Satan himself.’” Joanna shook her head in frustration. “But whatever I said, no matter how much I pleaded, she simply refused to say any more.”

She fisted one hand and pressed it into her palm. “I’d been brought up not to believe in court gossip. I have never been one to participate in idle talk. And now, so far as I could see, the same woman who had taught me those values seemed to be expecting me to accept her words without question. She demanded that I stay away from Mater and the women she’d gathered around her.”

Gavin placed his hand on hers and drew her eyes up to his. “But when you came back to the Highlands the following fall—in spite of what she had told you—you still went back to the abbey.”

“I did,” she whispered. “And it hurts me now to admit that I decided to go against my grandmother’s words.”

“And then, something happened.”

“Aye, something happened,” she answered, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “In my last visit to the abbey, I accidentally happened to overhear a conversation about a gathering that was about to take place. A ritual of some sort for the women. My curiosity was aroused, and though I was not invited, I was determined to find out what I could.”

Gavin noted the way her hands now clutched at the blanket, so he reached over and took them in his own. She glanced up at him, almost startled by his attention.

“Where was this meeting, Joanna?”

“In the vault beneath the castle,” she whispered hoarsely. “In the same room where the crypts lay.”

Joanna shivered and Gavin himself felt a sudden chill sweep through the room. Looking in the direction of the hearth, he gazed for a moment at the fire. “So you went there?”

“I wanted to. You see, they were to meet that night. It was a full moon. But it would not be so easy. Earlier in the day, a message had come from the castle that the Earl of Athol was due to arrive. I knew he would come, and I knew there would be harsh words between John and my father...on account of my betrothal. So there was no way I could excuse myself.”

Gavin pulled up the blanket and covered her bare shoulder with it. “And this was the night of the fire.”

“Aye. The same terrible night.” Joanna nodded and shivered again. “I stayed as long as I could in the Great Hall. And as I had suspected, my father and Athol took up their argument. But to my dismay, they grew angrier than I’d ever seen either of them. Finally, using their unwillingness to reason as an excuse, I fled back to my room and entered the passages. I wanted to get to the vault before the moon rose.”

“How did you know your way around?” Gavin asked curiously.

“From Athol,” she whispered. “The summer before, I’d been able to talk him into showing me the tunnels and the caverns. He even took me as far as Hell’s Gate.”

“It is a wonder that the laird of the neighboring lands might be so knowledgeable about the secrets of this keep?”

“Not so. The caverns are no secret. From what he told me, my own father had shown him the secret passageways when they were mere lads. Later, when my father had grown, Athol still spent many days roaming those passages, for there were many years, after my grandsire passed away, when neither of my uncles wanted to take their permanent seat as laird. Athol said those were the years when he and his friends would explore the caverns of Ironcross for the sheer adventure of it. Around that time, my father would occasionally return to the Highlands as well. From all I hear, at one time they were very close.”

Joanna wrapped her hair around one hand, “Athol told me that everyone thought the castle a haunted place. It was a true test of manhood for the young lads living nearby to cross the footbridge at Hell’s Gate.”

Gavin had to force his mind and attention back to the events of that fatal night. He wished to know more about Athol—and about this Hell’s Gate—but that information would have to wait a bit.

“Tell me what happened next...the night of the fire...when you went into the tunnels.”

“It was easy to find the vault, but the place was silent as death itself.” Joanna jumped suddenly as a gust of wind tore through the window, banging the wooden shutters hard against the walls. She clutched the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. “So I decided to stay and hide myself—and wait.”

“And did they come?” Gavin asked.

The wind was whistling into the chamber, and the warrior looked irritably toward the open windows. Pushing back the covers, he strode across the chamber to close the shutters. Outside, it appeared that a tempest was brewing, and the rain that spattered against his n***d skin was sharp and cold. With some effort, he pushed the shutters closed and latched them shut. Turning back to Joanna, he was amazed at how fragile and frightened she suddenly looked. He considered all the hardships she had endured during these months—the strength she must have worked so hard to garner simply to stay alive. And now, for the moment, all of it seemed to have drained completely out of her.

He reached the bed and, in a gesture that cut straight to his heart, Joanna gazed up and drew back the covers, opening her arms to him. Gavin gathered her tightly to his side. It was so easy to lose himself in her embrace. She was indeed an enchantress, robbing him of every shield, every barrier he had built up over the years. She laid her hand against his heart, touching him where he’d thought surely he had constructed the greatest protection. He could see now how wrong he’d been.

“They did come,” she whispered quietly. “But not as the women I had come to know. They came as strangers—as a group of chanting, raving madwomen.”

“Did they see you?”

She shook her head and laid her forehead against his chin. “Nay, I was so taken aback by their presence in that crypt—by the talk, by their evil prayers—that I found myself speechless, frozen where I hid.”

She shivered again as Gavin ran a warm hand up and down her arm beneath the covers. Her skin was ice cold to his touch.

“What happened next, Joanna?”

“It was some kind of ritual. The thing was as familiar to them as breathing the air is to you and me. I don’t know if it was Christian or pagan or from the devil himself. But then, what came next will give me nightmares till the day I die.”

Gavin’s head snapped around as the flames in the fireplace suddenly leapt up on the hearth. Between the wind and the blasted draft of the chimneys, he thought to himself, it was amazing the whole castle had not burned to the ground long ago.

“It was the most upsetting part of all they did—up to that time.” Joanna bit off her words. “As I watched, one of the women, with a shriek of some eldritch fiend, knelt by the pyre they had built in the center of the vault, and lit the brush. I can still hear the crackling roar, the rushes and the reeds and the sticks igniting. The blaze lighting up the entire crypt in an orgy of shadows and light. Then the women, like demons, breaking into some pagan dance, spinning and falling in a frenzy of moans and howls. It was as if they ceased to be human! And Mater watched over them all.”

Although he’d never been a witness to such rituals, Gavin had heard, on occasion, of places in both the Highlands and in the western Borders where such strange gatherings occurred. Some said it was a part of the old religion. Most said nothing about it at all.

But this still offered no just cause for placing the guilt of the murders on Mater.

“And there was more,” Joanna continued. “As these women carried on with their dancing and chanting, Mater began to preach to them, using words about lairds and the evils of such men and the curse and the traditions. From where I stood, hidden beyond a crypt, it took me no time at all to realize that she was talking about my father. She was calling down justice. Mater was calling on some ‘power’ to bring death...on him and on all who followed in his place.”

Joanna reached and took hold of Gavin’s hand tightly in hers. “As amazed as I was by what had gone before, it was nothing compared to that moment—to hearing those words. I mean, she was speaking of my father, John MacInnes. A peaceful man who had never willingly brought a jot of pain or hardship on any living soul. Why him?”

“What happened next, Joanna?”

“Finally, they all left the vault at last, still wild-eyed, possessed with the frenzy. I could not believe what I’d seen. I sat huddled in that corner for I don’t know how long. I suppose I was completely shaken, confused with what I’d witnessed.” She stared into the darkness of her memory. “Whatever it was that moved me—fear or betrayal—after a while I did stir. Aye, I found some courage and started back to my room, though I know now it must have been some time later.”