The Lost Treasure of Lorne

Chapter Five

"It began more than three hundred years ago. The Marquis of Lorne was a great power in the land, which at that time was split between those who supported the King of Scotland, and those who-secretly or not so secretly-wished his eldest son to rule. Lorne played both sides. His youngest daughter, Lady Morag Lorimer, attended the Queen at Stirling Castle, and his sons served the king in Edinburgh.

"It was in Edinburgh, on a visit to her brothers, that Lady Morag met the handsome son of an visiting English nobleman, Stephen Normington. Black of hair, he was, with pale green eyes that saw into her soul. And he was just as bewitched by her, that Scottish lass with her rich red hair and her milky skin that felt like silk to his touch. For touch her he did, and more, and they plighted troth to one another so she was his true wife, or so the young couple thought."

Michael gave a shiver at that, and Caitlin paused in the telling, knowing he was remembering himself and another girl with the Lorimer hair and complexion.

"They thought?" John prompted. "Were they not married then, by Scottish law?"

"They were not, for Lady Morag was not free to make her vows. Her father had promised her to another man, and had signed the betrothal papers, though the girl was unaware. And when she told her father she was wed, he flew into a rage. He and his sons carried her off to Castle Lorne. What happened there, no one knows. Her mother took her part, or so it is whispered, but mother and daughter disappeared and were never seen again.

"Young Normington came hunting for his wife, and was struck down. His father followed, searching for his son, and Lorne had him and all his soldiers killed, though in the fight his own sons also died.

"Finally, Lady Normington appeared at the gates, begging for the bodies of her dead so they could be given Christian burial. Lovely, she was, with the colouring of her son. And barely in her thirties, for she had been only fifteen when she bore Stephen, and he just sixteen when he stole the heart of Morag of Lorne."

"Poor children," Michael commented. He and Fiona had been older by a single year when they met in Edinburgh.

Caitlin continued. "Had Lorne gone mad in his pride and grief, or was this the moment that pushed him over the edge? He let her into the castle and promised to meet her request, and all the time he plotted her undoing. He had what was left of the bodies retrieved from the carrion pit into which they had been thrown, and let her tend them with her own hands, wrap them in strong linen with many sweet unguents and herbs, and lay them in oaken caskets.

"All that night the coffins lay in state in the castle chapel while the lady knelt between them, praying. And in the morning, Lorne gave her his ultimatum. Wed him and give him two sons and a daughter to replace those the Normingtons had taken, or he would throw the bodies back into the carrion pit and take her for his leman, will she nil she."

It was Caitlin's turn to shiver. It was this part of the story that had won the marquis the name Lorne of the Black Heart. Lady Normington must have known a moment of deep despair, but she had returned a soft reply.

"Give me this day to mourn my husband and my son, and I shall fast and pray for wisdom to respond to your request," she asked Lorne. Lorne was conscious of the castle folk at his back. They had not interfered with his revenge, and were as fierce as him at fighting the English. They'd not protect the woman from his rape nor prevent him from desecrating the corpses. But he had heard their whispers of admiration-at her courage in venturing into the castle, her loyalty to those she loved, the devout way that she prayed. He would find no support for stopping her at her prayer.

"This one day, then," he growled, and he went off to his meal, leaving a strong guard on the chapel door.

"He was outside drilling with his men when one of the guard came running to say that Lady Normington was no longer in the chapel. The guard had not moved. No one had passed them coming or going. But the chapel was empty of any living person."