Chapter 8: Sheena
1540 — August 29th
Sheena Douglas shivered in the darkness. Since her capture, the men had handled her poorly, leaving dark purple bruises on her wrists and thighs. They had berated her for fighting back, and barely kept her fed. The hunger clouded her mind. She peered up from her cell and looked through the distant window, taking joy in the fact she could at least see the clouds passing overhead in the blue sky.
The men claimed they would make an honest woman out of her when they finally had control of the castle. Their numbers had dwindled from an impressive four hundred to a stagnant thirty-five men, not enough to make a real strike on the castle, but enough to inflict lasting pain and anguish on their hostages.
They had killed many of the villagers on the night of the raid, but taken thirty for themselves to do with what they pleased. She could still smell smoke on her clothes from the fires. Often, Sheena would stare up through her small window and wonder if Elyn ever made it out alive. She dared not speak a word of having a sister, not because she was worried she was still in the castle, but because she didn't want to be shown her corpse. She rubbed her arms to try and stay warm, the dark room in the spire surprisingly chilled considering the time of year.
Sheena hoped for rain to come. If it did, and she could make it back to her family's home, they could have another harvest for the summer. Another bounty to enjoy before it was all over. She cursed the damned MacKenzies for not doing more to stop this from happening. Hadn't they known about the MacDonald threat for years? How many years...? Sheena tried hard to think. She couldn't put a number on it, save for feeling like her entire life.
Two of the clansmen were talking to each other in hushed voices. Sheena strained to try and hear their words, as they were huddled over a table. Discussing battle plans? She heard them say something about the MacDonalds, obviously the men they worked for. Another name slipped past their lips, a more distinct sentence: 'Mathou got away.' Sheena decided it was one of the few pieces of information she had gotten from them, so she tried to remember it.
She hoped that Elyn hadn't gone back to Dornie. It was no doubt ransacked at this point. Sheena scratched against the wall, her clothes growing more tattered and ragged by the day. Another week and she'd be wearing nothing at all. She despised the thought, her mind already growing cynical.
The men that kept her locked up claimed they had killed the Laird MacKenzie. If that was true, who ruled the castle now if the Laird was dead? Why were they holed up in a small tower? A handful of guards, undeterred by violence to give up their loyalty? Sheena treasured the idea, that men could still be valiant, even after she saw what kind of evil they were truly capable of.
Sheena's father coughed, holding his hand to this mouth as he buckled in pain and hacked up phlegm. The other prisoners stared at him and shuffled back, a look of fear on their faces. One man yelled at her father, telling him to cut it out lest they all get the sickness. Sheena frowned.
"Shut it!" She stood up and bared upon the man. "If you donae, I'll make sure you wish you had an illness."
The man recoiled and shuffled into the damp corner of the room. He cradled his knees in his arms.
Sheena returned to her father and wiped his forehead. She whispered words of encouragement into his ear, which he nodded to.
Suddenly a noise roused the group of invaders, and they moved to the door to investigate. An archer called down from the top of the tower. "I see something, they're advancing on us again!"
The sound of arrows slinging from their bows echoed throughout the tower, the meaty twang of the bow limbs cracking with each loose. Sheena guarded her parents, hovering over them and trying to keep whatever was coming from hurting them. She didn't like the hungry look one of the guards gave her as he slipped out the front door.
The sounds of battle rang through the spire, steel on flesh and wood. Men shouted and called out battle plans, others grunted and traded blows. While Sheena couldn't see any of the action, she almost could get a sense of it from just listening. Soon the cries died off and the lone archer from above shrieked and moved from his perch. The wooden door sealing the hostages inside burst open, and Sheena shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun, bracing herself for another beating.
A man with a thick beard moved into her vision and extended his hand. Blood was smeared on his face, but his eyes were gentle. He wore the unmistakable colors of the Macrae Clan. Before Sheena could convince herself to take his hand, he withdrew it and stared up through the spire, catching sight of the lone archer. He called out to his men, "Get that one! Donae kill him though, he needs to spill his words before we spill his guts."
One of the clansmen nodded and bounded up the stairs, knocking the archer's meager sword away and grabbing him by the cuff of his shirt. They dragged him down the stairs, his legs knocking against each stone step. Barron Macrae nodded in approval. He turned back to Sheena.
"Aye, lass, you're safe now, thanks to Alec Macrae. Come with us, there's plenty 'f room in the castle for you lot."
***
The clansmen gathered up the wounded and sickly villagers and took them back to the castle. The ones who could not walk were carried, while others were gently guided. Sheena's lips felt as if they were sewn shut, but she hoped her gratitude was more than evident.
Upon arriving back in the castle, the clansmen directed the group of villagers to the mess hall, where they had food set out.
Sheena watched Barron and his men carry the lone archer through the mess hall. She moved to intercept them, and when they saw her coming, stopped to humor her. She gave Barron a small nod, then spat in the prisoner's face. "I hope you rot," she said. Barron chuckled and dragged the man out into the hall to the dungeon.
Sheena was grateful to be able to eat again. She doled out enough for herself, her mother and her Da, who needed rest.
After having some supper, she found Barron Macrae and asked him where they might stay.
"Ah," he said as he scratched his beard. "I haven't thought that one through yet. I suppose you're the first to ask, so you can have first pick."
"I just need somewhere where my Da can rest, he's taken an illness since we were captured..."
"I think I got just the place. Follow me."
Sheena and her family were given Gavin's old quarters, a surprisingly lavish room that made their old home look like a small broom closet in comparison. Sheena couldn't help but touch every surface, letting her hand explore the smooth gold work or intricate and wrought designs that were carved into the stone walls. She rested her Da in the plush bed and turned to Barron, who seemed smugly satisfied with the arrangement.
"You sure the Laird won't mind?"
"He shouldn't, seeing as you're the Douglas Clan, right? Where is your sister? The red-headed one."
Sheena was taken aback. "What has that got to do with anything?"
Barron frowned. "Where is she?"
"She escaped the night the attacks started. I donae know where she went. Why?"
Barron smiled. "Good. We haven't found any red-haired lasses among the..." he cleared his throat and nodded. "The Laird has taken a fancy to her, so it sounds like they both made it out alive. Thank God. Alec is a good leader, but certainly not cut out for it." Barron smiled and folded his arms. "He'll come to see you soon, I imagine."
Barron turned to leave, but caught himself and asked one last question. "What was your sister's name again?"
"Elyn." Sheena nodded, a bit of a nervous relief stirred in her heart. If Elyn was alright, that would be a huge burden lifted from the shoulders of her parents. Maybe it was the kind of news that would help cure her Da of his illness, wracked with worry as he was.
After Barron left to leave the Douglas family alone, Sheena went to the bedside and clasped her Da's hand. "Did you hear the news, Da?"
He coughed a little and smiled at her. "That Elyn is okay? I did."
Sheena's Ma smiled and her eyes started to glaze with tears. "I can't believe it. I thought fer sure..."
"Me too, Ma, me too." She laid down to rest.
After a couple of hours, Sheena woke to a wind rushing in through the open balcony door. The sky had blackened like soot, and an electric sensation filled the air. Within a few moments, the familiar scent of the dewy earth met her, the chilled rain splashing into the chamber. Thunder cracked outside as lightning flashed into the room, muting the torches each time it struck.
Footsteps down the hallway signaled another visitor. This time it was Alec Macrae, as Barron had promised. He stood in the doorway and looked inside as if he were intruding.
"Can I come in?"
"Are you Alec?"
"Aye."
Sheena nodded and leaped to meet him at the doorway, unsure of the warmness of her cheeks. Alec was a good-looking man in her eyes: rugged, with a scruffy stubble. His bright blue eyes seemed to wash over her with gentle warmth. He seemed familiar, and as she watched him move to the bedside, she remembered seeing a dark-haired man on the balcony when she was carried off into the spire, she was sure he hadn't seen her at all. But she had seen him. Alec folded his arms as he stepped up next to Gavin's old bed.
"I take it you're head of the Douglas Clan," Alec said. Colin nodded weakly.
"Aye. What honor do you visit us with?"
"It seems the Laird has a keen interest in the protection of your family. Barron tells me that your other daughter, Elyn, has fled. We expect the Laird found her and is keeping her safe. That's all we can know or expect." Alec frowned, casting a glance to Sheena for a moment. "I should confess, I also came for selfish reasons. I wanted to meet this stunning beauty."
Sheena blushed, and tried to hide her face. She didn't want Alec to get a bad impression of her, but the look in his eyes betrayed his vulnerability. There wasn't a bad impression she could give. He moved next to her and took her hand, his palm rough but gentle on hers. He kissed it and admired the flush in her cheeks as she withdrew her hand tenderly.
Colin hacked again. "What kind of father would I be to deny the second family of Eilean Donan?"
"A father who cares. I donae want to coerce ye into making any decisions. If you or she decline my offer, you are still more than welcome to stay in the Laird's chambers until he returns. I hope that will be soon. I haven't heard a single word from him — which I suppose is good enough. No body parts have shown up on our doorstep."
"What was the Laird planning?" Sheena asked.
"He was hoping to make it to Castle Iverlochy to speak with the King to stop the MacDonald Clan from exacting any more vengeance. That was until... we learned some grim news from the last standing archer."
"What news?"
"That they weren't hired by the MacDonalds. They were hired by the Maxwells."