Page 115 of Claimed by a Highlander
Rory’s vision was tinged with red. “That is a lie!”
“Your mother was a whore,” Hector said.
Rory lunged for him, but Alex and several other men rushed between him and Hector.
“This is hallowed ground!” the abbot shouted, holding his hands up. “Any man who sheds blood here commits a sin against God.”
“Not here,” Alex said as he held Rory’s arm. “Not unless ye want yourself and the whole clan excommunicated.”
The bishop appeared to motion to someone behind Rory. He turned to see the figure of a hunched woman emerge from one of the chapels built into the south aisle. He did not recognize the woman at first. But when she stood in the light of the candelabra next to the bishop, he knew who she was.
“Isn’t that Mother’s old servant?” Alex whispered.
“Aye. She’s also a wise woman.” Rory felt as if a hole was opening beneath his feet. “And a midwife.”
Rory knew what was coming. He should leave now, but something compelled him to stay and watch the disaster unfold.
The bishop made the old woman hold the large, heavy cross he wore and swear by the blood of Jesus Christ that every word she spoke was true.
“My mistress,” she began in a soft voice.
“Louder,” the bishop told her.
“My mistress, Lady Agnes, was with child by one of the stable lads in her father’s castle and was frantic not knowing what to do about it,” the old woman said, glancing several times at Hector. “When the MacKenzie chieftain laid siege to the Fraser castle and demanded to wed her at once, Lady Agnes believed her prayers were answered, and readily agreed.”
“How do you know this?” the bishop asked.
“I was her personal maid, and she confided in me,” she said, with another furtive glance at Hector. “I’m a skilled midwife as well and helped her deliver the child. She confessed to me again then that the babe was her lover’s babe, and I agreed to say he was born early.”
Hector had coerced the poor woman to say these lies. Rory should have foreseen this. The damage was done now.
“And who was this child?” the bishop prodded her.
“It was him, Rory.” The old woman looked at him for the first time, and there was sorrow in her eyes. “He was a fine, fine boy and always her favorite.”
“I forgive you,” Rory told her in a soft voice.
A tear trickled down the old woman’s cheek.
“I am the MacKenzie,” Rory said, locking gazes with Hector. “And one day ye will answer for this.”
Then he turned and walked out of the church.
“You can never be the true chieftain when ye don’t have chieftain’s blood!” Hector shouted after him. “You’ll bring bad luck to yourself and the clan.”
Rory kept walking.
“You’ve no right! I warn ye, you’ll lose everything and destroy the clan.” Hector’s voice rang out through the cathedral. “Everything ye touch will turn to ashes.”
CHAPTER 41
The river was swollen from the winter rains, and the rushing water drowned out other sounds as Rory and the Grant lad walked the trail along its bank. He was glad to be away from the demands of the castle for a couple of hours. Between his troubles with Sybil and yesterday’s meeting at the cathedral, he needed the chance to clear his head and think.
Kenneth picked up a rock and threw it into the water.
“Mind ye don’t go near the edge,” Rory said, pulling him back. “The ground is slick with mud and the current is fast. If ye slipped and fell in, you’d drown long before I could get ye out.”
The lad nodded and looked up at him with his usual serious expression. “I won’t fall in.”
