Catriona and Mari were able to get two horses in Oban before heading south to Edinburgh, but even the strength of horses couldn’t help a woman who’d just birthed two bairns make a journey.
“My lady, we’re no’ goin’ to make it. Why don’t we turn back while we still can? It’s only a day’s ride back to Oban.”
“I canna go back, Cat,” said Mari, staring straight ahead, sweat glistening off her face even though the air was yet was cool. “I canna face my man again without--- without them,” she finished weakly, feeling a strange wrenching in her belly.
“But—but, you’ll die!” cried Cat in horror.
“Aye, I may. And then you’ll have to carry on for me, lass. You must find my bairns. And then, you must find Robert.”
Cat looked aghast at Mari. “Do ye mean to die, out here in the middle of bluidy nowhere, and then expect me to go to Edinburgh myself?” she asked, her voice raising in fear.
“I dinna mean to die, lass,” said Mari bitterly. “I only feel a bit poorly. But, aye, if I---if I should pass, ye must continue without me.” She glanced at Cat beside her, who not only shook with the fear of being alone, but the fear of Mari’s death.
“Ye must swear lass. As a Maclean. ‘Virtue Mine Honor’, remember that, lass? Tis our motto, and each of us must hold it dear to our hearts for it to have any meaning. Ye must honor me by swearing ye’ll seek out my bairns and my Robert, with or without me.”
Cat swallowed visibly, terrified, but terrified more by not being able to measure up to Mari’s request. “Aye, I swear it. On my honor, as a Maclean.”
“That’s a good lass. Now, dinna fret, for I don’t intend on leavin’ ye yet.”
~//~
Mari and Cat traveled on southwards, following the main road from a distance in the woods, hoping to avoid the English. With each step, Mari felt herself weaken. She was exhausted and ill, but was afraid to let on how ill she was to Cat. She wanted to make it to Edinburgh. She wanted to find her children, she needed to. In fact, she almost still felt that they were with her, as if she were still pregnant with them. Often she would look down at her belly and realize it was no longer swollen with child and would start to weep. She couldn’t explain it, except that she knew that to be reunited with them would end the pain. She had to hold her wee bairns again, and it was this, more than anything, that kept her fighting to continue.
“My lady, we should rest. You’re not well---“ began Cat.
“Hold your tongue! I’m merely a little weak. We must continue a bit further. We are no more than two days’ ride from the city gates. If we just press on a wee bit more, I know we can make it.”
Cat did indeed hold her tongue, but she feared it would cost Mari her life. Each hour she grew paler and weaker. Cat rode behind Mari, and she thought she even noticed her shivering with fever, but the woman was too stubborn to admit how ill she was.
Toward dusk on the third day, Mari did allow them to stop. They found a secluded location near a stream.
“The horses need water,” she said weakly, and nearly fainted out of the saddle. Cat was there as soon as could be, and helped Mari down.
“My lady, please rest.”
Mari didn’t protest this time, but let Cat lead her to a nearby tree. Cat propped her up with some woolen blankets and brought her water from the stream. She felt Mari’s forehead as she helped her to drink.
“You’re burning up! We can’t continue! Ye must rest!” cried Cat.
Mari merely nodded, so weak was she. “I’ll be fine, Cat.”
“I’ll go fetch firewood. We’ll stay here tonight,” said Cat, beginning to fear the end was at hand.
How would she cope without Mari? And what would Robert do when he learned that Cat allowed her to leave Mull after having the babies? He would kill her! Payment in kind for letting his wife perish.
“Surely she won’t die. She was only being dramatic back there,” Cat said to herself. But she felt tears well up just the same. Mari was her good friend. She had seen her through her own tough times, and she couldn’t give up on her now. “If anyone deserves to live, it’s Mari Maclean. I won’t let her die. I won’t!” She kept up a litany, trying to comfort herself, when she heard a noise somewhere behind her in the wood.
“Who’s there?” she asked. It was dusk, barely enough light to find her way back to Mari, and she was in no mood to deal with wild animals or worse.
She looked around, trying to decipher any being within striking distance of where she was. And then she thought of Mari. Alone and helpless like she was, but also deathly ill.
“Mari!” she called, trying to race back to where she had left her. It seemed darkness was falling faster, for it became harder and harder to find her way.
Just when she thought she was lost entirely, she ran smack into someone’s arms. She gave a yelp, and then struggled to face her captor. “My lord!” she cried in surprise.
She had run straight into Robert Maclean’s arms. “Cat! What in God’s name are ye doing here?”
Cat was so relieved to see him that she fell into a fit of tears. “Oh, it’s horrible, my lord! Just horrible…”
“Mari…” he said in fear. “Where’s Mari? What’s happened to her?”
“Nothing---yet. It’s just that---“ she sobbed out.
“Get on with it! Is she here? Where is she? Tell me!” he said, shaking Cat with every demand.
“Oh, my lord! I—Come!” she couldn’t speak any further so she grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the sound of the stream, where she had left Mari.
At last they came upon the impromptu campsite. Robert held a lantern, and nearly fell to the ground at Mari’s feet.
“Mari?” he asked incredulously. “Dear God! What’s happened to ye?”
She was barely coherent, swamped in a fever. But the sound of Robert’s voice at last penetrated her mind.
“Robert? Is that ye? Oh, God, Robert…” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Cat stepped away, pretending to tend the horses as she watched covertly Robert and Mari. They loved each other so deeply, and she knew----she knew that Mari wouldn’t make it. She couldn’t watch them say good-bye…
“Mari, lass, tell me, what’s happened to ye?” he asked gently, cradling her head on his chest.
She began to cry in earnest, afraid to tell him and yet joyful to see him all at once.
“I canna face ye, Robert. Ye told me to keep them safe, and—oh, God, how will ye forgive me?” she sobbed. If she’d been well enough, she would have walked away from him. As it was, she merely clung to him, crying pitifully.
“Tell me what happened, lass. Tell me,” he whispered. His voice was flat, not revealing any emotion, for he feared what she would say.
“We had---I gave birth to twins, love,” she managed to say. “Oh, I feel so weak… Robert---hold me.”
“Twins,” he sighed and clung tighter to her. “Tell me the rest, Mari.”
“The English… they came---they took the babes. To Edinburgh. I was---we were going to find them---“ she spoke haltingly, and he could feel the fever shake through her in his embrace.
“Woman, were ye mad? To chase after the babes in your condition?” he chided, but only half-heartedly. His heart was tearing in two to see her suffer so.
“Aye, mad I am. Mad with love for them and for ye…” she managed to pull herself up and look into his eyes, her own brimming with unspent tears. “Do ye no recall telling me to keep the bairn safe? Well, there were two of them, and I---I couldn’t let those filthy bastards take them----“
“Oh, Christ! Ye mad, fine woman!” he held her close, wondering what to do. She was weak as a babe herself, and they were halfway to anywhere, which amounted to being in the middle of nowhere. There was no possibility of finding a physician in the middle of the wilds of Scotland.
“Our babes, a wee boy and a wee girl, are out there somewhere---“ she whispered. “And I dinna think I have the strength to find them.”
“Hush, you’ll feel better after some rest, is all. You’ve endured a lot. I’ll get ye through.”
“Robert, I dinna think I can---“ she began, but was interrupted by his harsh cry.
“Hush, ye willna speak so! Tis fate that I stumbled upon ye two in these woods. I was just looking for a stream to give my horse a bit of water… The Lord wouldn’t let ye die now that I’ve got ye. Ye must be brave, lass.”
She suddenly looked at him. “How did you come to be in these woods? I thought ye were still in Edinburgh.”
“Oh, aye. Well, I ran into a wee bit of trouble, as well as Hector… Let’s just say, I got the better end of the bargain."
“So ye found him then? What did he say?”
“He’s dead, Mari. The English killed him,” he said simply.
She sighed heavily. “Oh… that’s dreadful…” Then she sat up a bit, her feverish eyes focusing in on him. “But don’t ye ken what that also means for ye?”
“What? That the gold is now for the takin’? Aye, but at what cost?” he said bitterly.
She nodded, then reached for his hand to stroke the Maclean ring upon it. “Aye, the gold is yours… But it also means that yer laird now, Robert.”
“Aye, I suppose so,” he said, thinking of the cursed document the English made him sign. He stroked her face, warm to the touch, and it made his heart ache for he did fear he may lose her here in the wilderness. “But it can all go to rot if I dinna have ye, Mari. That’s why ye must get better. I’ll stay here with ye till ye heal.”
“But what of our bairns?” she asked, laying a hand on her belly absently.
“Aye,” he sighed. “We must find them, true. But, lass, I’ll have ye well first. Likely if they took the babes into the city, they took them to a convent or a church. We’ll find them that way. I’m sure they’re a sight better off than ye.”
“Aye,” she whispered. She leaned in closer to him, glad to have him near her again. “Robert? Do ye mind at all?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m sorry that things ended up this way. Do ye mind? That I couldn’t protect the bairns. Ye only asked if I could keep them safe---I mean, can ye forgive me?”
He kissed her forehead, “Forgive ye? What for? Ye bore our children, and tis no fault of yours that the English are a cursed lot and took them from ye. No, lass, I dinna mind. All I have a mind about is seeing ye heal.”
They heard a rustling coming from the horses. It was Cat. They forgot she was there at all. “I found some willow bark in the wood. I heard it’s good for pain. I made a sort of tea out of it”
“Aye, that’s a good lass,” said Robert, taking the cup from her and helping Mari drink it. “Thank ye, Cat.”
~//~
Mari awoke in the middle of the night. She stumbled away from their makeshift camp and fell on the riverbank, retching. She felt dizzy and feverish, disoriented.
“Mari? Lass, is that ye?” said Robert.
“Aye,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Robert, I need ye.”
He came to her at once, and she fell into his arms. “Christ, lass! Yer burning up!”
She was hot to the touch, and not sweating, which meant the fever had a strong hold on her.
“I feel bloody awful,” she said before fainting in his arms.
“Mari!” he cried, setting her down on the cool grass. He knew he had to draw the fever from her. The grass was cool, which meant the water was probably even colder.
He undressed her and lifted her in her shift into the stream. It was indeed freezing cold, but it might be just the thing to break the fever. He held her there in the water, rubbing her limbs, but she was as limp as a wet rag and still hot to the touch.
“Dinna die on me, lass! Hang on, love. Come on, come on!”
He was freezing himself, but didn’t think on it. His focus was completely on reviving Mari. At last her eyes opened. “So hot…” she murmured.
“Please… oh, Mari…” he mumbled, still holding onto her in the water.
Cat woke from all the commotion and came to stand by the river.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, half asleep.
“The fever. It won’t break. I’m nearly frozen to death, and she’s as hot as a fire pit. What do we do, Cat?”
Mari began coughing and shivering. “She’s shivering! Is that good, Cat?”
“Aye, I think so. You’re breaking the fever. Keep her in there a while longer. That is, if you can stand the cold yerself.”
“Aye. I will.”
After a few more minutes, his limbs frozen from the cold, he took her out of the river. She was shivering something fierce, but he thought she’d make it.
“Wrap her with this blanket. I’m going to build a fire,” said Robert.
Once he got the fire started, he started to warm up again. Mari was still shivering and quite incoherent. Robert held her close, staring into the flames and wondering what he’d do without her.
He thought back to when he first saw her. It was a market day. Everyone had come into the city of Oban to trade food and goods. Her family had come from Lochbuy to trade in fur for fresh fish and other essentials. She captivated him from the start. Her russet hair and fierce green eyes spoke of a strong will and the strength of her ancestors. He had been shy at first, but once they realized their attraction was mutual, they took every opportunity to see each other. The whole clan knew they’d end up together, even before they did. When Robert finally asked for her hand, her father smiled and said, “About time. If ye didna ask me soon, I was about to ask ye if ye’d take her, she carries on about ye so.” He smiled to himself at the memory. But then he looked about himself here, in the present, and contemplated his circumstances: essentially now laird of the Macleans, miles from civilization, his bairns in the hands of the English, and his precious wife on the edge of death. He realized that she was truly the only thing that mattered to him. Even when he left to fight for Charlie, he knew in his heart that she was the reason for his going, despite her not wanting him to go. It was for her that he wanted to make Scotland free. And it was for her that he betrayed himself and his clan to the English. That cursed piece of paper tied him to them, but it could never separate him from his duty now as laird. And it was purely by circumstance that made him so. Hector had no heirs, and John had had no one but Hector. Robert was John’s nephew, and since Robert’s father was dead, that left him at the head of the clan.
He sighed and pulled Mari closer, gently stroking her hair and praying. God, please don’t let her die. She’s my everything. I dinna deserve her, but Lord, let me keep her a while longer. Her eyes were closed, and in the moonlight, she appeared to be some sort of vision, a silkie up from the water, her white gown stretched taught against her body. As ill as she was, she was still beautiful, and Robert felt the familiar urge to make love to her.
“Christ, yer daft man,” he whispered to himself. She was still shivering fiercely, fighting for her life, and here he was thinking indecent thoughts! A man should be ashamed!
“Robert?” she whispered.
“Aye, lass?”
She reached for his shirt, pulling herself up to his face, her eyes drooping from the fever. “I love you,” she said, a tear slipping past her eyelid, down her cheek.
“No. No, lass! You’ll no make your good-byes yet! Not while I have something to say about it!”
He stood up suddenly, clutching her to his chest. They couldn’t stay here in the forest any longer, it was killing her! They had to get back to Edinburgh, to a physician. Perhaps someone in the city could help her. But he would not let her go without a fighting chance.
He ran over to where Cat was sleeping. “Cat. Cat! Wake up. We’re heading into the city. We’ve got to. It’s our only hope.”
“Hmmm?” she said drowsily. “But—isn’t it more dangerous to jostle her on a horse?”
“Perhaps. But it’s a risk we have to take. Look at her, Cat! She won’t survive out here! We have to find another way!”
~//~
They reached the gates of Edinburgh in record time. Robert galloped through the forests towards Edinburgh, his wife clutched in his arms. Cat couldn’t keep up, so Robert left her, with her word that she would meet them at St. Bridgit’s in three days time, no matter what. It took a full day’s ride and half a night to get to the gates, and Mari was hanging on by a mere thread. But Robert’s will was strong enough to keep her fighting for her life. She was in dreadful pain, being jostled along the rough road, so Robert gave her nips of whiskey to help get her through.
Exhausted, and in the middle of the night, they approached the sentries at the city gate. Robert was disgusted to see English troops guarding the city. He had no stomach to deal with them now.
One of the guards was half asleep, the other appeared drunk and stumbled up to Robert on his horse.
“What business do you have here at this hour?” asked the sentry.
“My wife,” he barely got out. “I’ve been riding for a day and a night to get her here, hopefully to a physician. You have to let me in the gates.”
“I’m not letting Scottish scum wander the streets at this hour. For all I know, it could be a ruse.”
Robert wanted to kill the man. “Look, my wife is dying. And if you don’t let me pass through those gates, I’ll gladly kill you myself.”
“Damn Jacobite. I have no time for you…” the guard muttered, taking another swig of his brandy.
Robert suddenly remembered the copy of that cursed document he signed to be released, the one that renounced all his claim on the Stuart cause. Perhaps---
“Sir, wait. I’m loyal to the English king. I have a document to prove it.”
As he lifted Mari higher in his arms to get out the document, he heard her groan. She was still alive. Barely.
Robert handed the sentry the paper. “Hmmm….” He muttered, seeming to take an eternity to read it. Each second that passed was one less second under a doctor’s care, one less second she could have to heal….
“All right. This seems in order. I’ll let you enter. But I don’t know who can help you at this hour.”
“Where’s the closest convent or even a hospital?”
Robert read just the briefest hint of pity on the sentry’s face as he said, “I think she’s a lost cause, old man. But St. Catherine’s is just beyond that pass to your left. The closest hospital is on the other side of the city. But Sister Margaret is usually vigilant in the overnight hours.”
Robert nodded his thanks, and wondered how a drunken sentry could be on familiar terms with a nun, but headed on.
When he was in sight of the church, he trotted faster and tried to nudge Mari awake. “Mari? Are you---Mari?”
She was cold and clammy and he felt a moment of fear, until she stirred and moaned under her breath.
“Almost there, my love. Hold on.”
~//~
As promised, Sister Margaret did answer the door. “Oh, the poor thing!” she cried at the sight of them. “Come with me.”
She led them across a courtyard, leaving Robert’s exhausted horse to a stable hand. Mari was barely alive, holding onto life by a thread. Once in the cloisters, the sister motioned for them to be quiet, making noise only by the gentle clanging of keys she held clutched in her hand.
At last they came to the infirmary room. “Sister Chloe, I found this couple outside.” Then, under her breath, “I fear she’s a goner. Should I fetch the Mother Superior?”
Sister Chloe, a bit more tactful than Sister Margaret, simply gestured for her to leave. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
“But---“ Resigned, she left.
Robert laid Mari on a small bed that Sister Chloe had just finished making up.
“What’s happened to her?” she asked softly, feeling Mari’s cool head.
Robert, seeing Mari clearer in the candlelight paled at how much worse she was. “She----she recently bore our children.”
“Why is she here---children?” she suddenly asked. “Don’t you mean child?”
“No, she had twins.”
“Heavens! Where are they? Did they---“ she didn’t finish, thinking it not tactful to mention death when the girl before her was obviously so close to it herself.
“No!” he said quickly. Then, “Well, I hope not. She told me the English took them away from her and were heading here, to Edinburgh.”
“Oh, my,” whispered the nun, paling.
“What? What is it?”
“Sister Luke!” she called, ignoring him.
A beautiful young woman appeared, eying the scene from a strong face, eyebrows a fierce red, hinting at the mane that lay beneath her kerchief, for she was yet a novice and not in full habit.
“Aye?” she asked, the linens she had been folding still in her hand.
“What—what did those soldiers want yesterday?”
Sister Luke looked from the man towering above Sister Margaret to the sick woman on the bed, and then a curious sense of sorrow gripped her.
“They had two wee bairns, newly birthed I think,” she whispered.
“Where did they take them? Are they here?” asked Robert anxiously.
Sister Margaret stilled him with her hand. “Sister Luke, what did you tell them?”
She couldn’t face the look on the man’s face and felt her skin redden in regret. “I swathed them both in new nappies, for the soldiers didna know how. And I told them we had no place for wee ones and sent them on down to St. Cecilia’s. They have a nursery there.”
Mari, stirring, heaved a heavy sigh. Robert looked down at her, seeing how far gone she was and felt suddenly torn. He had to fight for her life, but if he didn’t go after the babes now, they could end up anywhere. For a second he thought about rushing out the door towards them, but the pallid look on his wife’s face kept him in his place.
“Why couldna ye have kept the babes here, lass?” he asked quietly of the novice, a tremor of anger and fear in his voice.
“I’m sorry--- I didna---“ but she didn’t finish because Sister Margaret began to usher her out.
“Wait!” he called.
She stopped in the doorway, loathe to meet his eyes. “Aye?”
“Did one of the babes have a wee locket?”
“Yes, I thought it curious, but tucked it back in the nappie with the girl. I figured if ever their mother wanted to find them---“
“Aye,” said Robert, looking down at his dying wife.
Sister Margaret nodded to Sister Luke. “Go on, Sister. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Sister Luke nodded, but before she left she spoke, this time looking directly into Robert’s eyes. “I’m sorry… About yer bairns and yer wife. I know what it’s like, to lose someone ye hold dear---“
“Sister Luke! Enough! You know we don’t speak of---!” the sister made an all-encompassing gesture, referring to the world beyond their walls.
Sister Luke glared at Sister Margaret, wanting to say more, but not able to. She finally turned and left without another word.
“Stay here with your wife. No doubt they’ll not do anything with the babes till morning. And----“ by then your wife may very well be gone. She sighed and got a cool cloth to put on Mari’s forehead. But, she realized with horror, Mari was already clammy. Her body had begun to give up. She quietly stood up and headed for the door.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do for her?” Robert asked.
“I’ll be right back,” she said weakly, turning to go.
“Wait! No! You will not run out on my wife like this!” Robert spoke harshly, grabbing her by the sleeve.
She shook him off indignantly and sighed, “Sir, I’m terribly sorry, but there is nothing to do. She is too far gone. For the Lord’s Sake, look at her!”
Robert turned to Mari. Her skin was an awful gray color, and she was breathing harshly. Deep down, he knew the nun was right, and he felt a wrench of guilt clutch his soul. Keep the bairn safe… but at what cost?
“Mari?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
She barely opened her eyes. “My babes…”
“They are all right.” Robert felt his throat tighten with unshed tears. “Mari. Don’t go. Don’t leave me…”
He turned to the nun then, tears brimming in his eyes. “If there is nothing for you to do to help, then leave. I’ll be with her---“ he couldn’t finish, but simply focused all his love and attention onto his brave wife.
“Mari? Can you hear me at all?” he asked softly. Her eyes were glossed over and she seemed barely together, but he felt he had to speak to her until the end.
“Mari? I will find our babes, somehow. And they will grow to see their father laird, and I will tell them of their mother…” his voice broke. “And how she was the finest woman a man ever loved. I’ll tell them your story, love. You, the heroine that saved them. I love you, Mari. Oh, Christ how I love ye!”
He laid his head on her stomach, listening to her harsh breathing. “Robert, I love---“ she whispered, a low exhaling of air as she took her last breath.
“Mari. Mari!” he cried, shaking her, knowing this end was inevitable, but trying to stave it off. How long did he know? Did he know in the woods that she could not make it? Had he prepared himself during their journey that they would come to this end? Aye, but he had hoped. He had hoped, all the same… “No! Sister Margaret! Sister Luke!” he shouted.
Protectively he got in bed beside her, cradling her body, now absent of life.
Sister Luke came back in, an odd sense of longing on her face. Robert couldn’t look up at her, tears flowing down his face to caress the face of his lost beloved.
“She’s gone now, aye. But be grateful ye can hold her and that ye were here for the end. Some of us only hear about the death of our loved ones….” Tears slipped down her own cheeks.
Slowly she approached the bed. Robert was exhausted and hurt. Had the paper, that condemning piece of paper been signed for naught? Could not even his wife live so that she may get the peace of it? Tomorrow I’ll make sense of this mess. Tomorrow she’ll be all right. Tomorrow I’ll find the babes….
Gently Sister Luke touched his arm. She leaned towards them and whispered kindly, “The soldiers told me they’d send one babe abroad to another convent, most likely in France. And the other will be raised either here or in London. By how, and what means for either, I cannot say.”
