Page 115 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“Good evening, Davie,” Bearnard said pleasantly. “How is life treating you?”
Davie looked up and smiled, then got to his feet. “A’ the better for seein’ ye, Master Bearnard,” he replied. “Are ye keepin’ well?” His words were tinged with a note of caution. Everyone knew what was going on, and they knew that Alex was not on the side of Gerald and Aidan. The guards were in an unenviable position, since they were under Alex’s command, although also under the Laird’s. Every one of them liked and respected Alex, but the Laird paid their wages, so they owed their loyalty to him.
“I am very well,” Bearnard replied. “I would very much like to see Alex.”
Davie shook his head. “I am sorry, Master Bearnard,” he said sadly, “but I cannae let ye in. The Laird has forbidden anybody but himself an’ the lass who delivers the food tae go an’ see the prisoner.”
“And do you think that is right?” Bearnard asked pointedly.
Davie shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. “It doesnae matter what I think, Master Bearnard,” he answered. “It is no’ my place tae make the rules, just enforce them.”
Bearnard folded his arms and lifted his chin then looked down at Davie. He looked tall, intimidating, and every inch the son of the Laird.
To his credit, Davie did not back down but stood looking unflinchingly at Bearnard. He knew a decent man when he saw one and was not afraid of him.
“Very well,” Bearnard said, sighing. “Davie, I know you, and I know your family. You are all thoroughly good people. Tell me honestly, do you think that Alex is guilty of what he is being accused of?”
“Master Bearnard,” Davie said sighing in frustration. “It is no’ my place tae think, only tae obey.” Then he paused and nodded. “But I think Alex MacNeill is innocent, and it is a shame what they are daein’ tae him. I hear the kind o’ things Master Aidan an’ Master Gerard say tae him, an’ I cannae understan’ how he stays sae calm. I would be ragin’!”
“He is not really in a position to fight back,” Bearnard pointed out. Then suddenly he said, “I will give you five pounds if you let me in.”
Davie stared at him, his eyes round with astonishment. Five pounds would feed and clothe his family for months, but he felt unworthy of it. “There is nae need, Master Bearnard,” he said earnestly. “I would have let ye in anyway.”
“I know.” Bearnard smiled. “I know you are on our side, Davie. But I wanted to give you something–you have always been a good friend to me.” Davie had always defended him when Aidan tried to bully him, so he was happy to reward him. He slipped a pound from his pocket and gave it to the other man as he opened the gates. “I will come and see you tomorrow with the rest.”
“Thank ye, sir,” Davie said gratefully. He knew that he had no need to worry; Bearnard would not go back on his word.
Bearnard passed into the cells and walked up to the last one, where Davie had told him Alex was. As he drew near, he wondered what kind of state he would find his friend in.
Alex was thinking of Freya’s smile and the last time he had kissed her, and he was smiling too. He was sure that she would be there to say goodbye, hopefully to kiss him. Perhaps he might even be able to hold her one last time.
He sat up abruptly as he saw a man standing on the other side of the bars, but the light was so dim that he could not make out who it was. For a few seconds he thought that his executioners had come to fetch him early, and he instinctively backed away from the bars,
“It’s me, Alex,” Bearnard said softly. “I came to speak to you.”
“Thank God!” Alex breathed. “I thought they had come for me.” He stood up, but he had to stoop slightly to avoid bumping his head. “How is Freya?”
Bearnard gazed at his friend’s anxious face. “She is fine, Alex,” he replied. “Thinking of you, worrying about you of course.”
“Just as I am about her,” Alex said anxiously.
“She is well,” Bearnard lied. He did not tell him about Freya’s sunken eyes, thinness, and lack of appetite. If these were going to be his last memories of Freya, he wanted them to be pleasant ones.
He handed over the sack of food that he had brought, which included a bottle of fine red wine from the Laird’s cellars. As well as that, there were cheeses, slices of freshly baked bread and fruit pies, and a large piece of succulent beef.
“The condemned man’s last meal,” Alex said with a humourless laugh. He had thought that his appetite would have disappeared since he was so nervous, but apparently not. He was ravenous and took one look at the food before wolfing it down, using his empty porridge dish as a plate. “The food in here is dreadful.”
Bearnard looked at him in astonishment. He too had wondered if his friend would be able to eat, but it seemed he need not have worried.
When he had finished, Alex looked at Bearnard and said, “You wanted to talk to me.”
“Yes,” Bearnard replied. “I want you to tell me the truth, Alex. I know you are not guilty of any crime.”
A stubborn expression appeared on Alex’s face and he opened his mouth to retort angrily, however, suddenly they heard heavy footsteps approaching. Alex hid the food scraps under his blankets while Bearnard disappeared into the shadows. The sound of boots belonged to the guard, who looked extremely cautious, but Alex was dismayed to see that he was escorting Gerald Patterson, who had no doubt come to needle him yet again.
Alex had tried before, but this time was determined to succeed in ignoring him yet again. It might be easier this time since Aidan was not behind him egging him on and adding his tuppenceworth. Alex took one look at his enemy then lay down on his pallet and turned his back on him. His life was nearly over now, so what more harm could Gerald do to him?
“MacNeill!” Patterson barked. “Stand up and face me like a man, you coward! I want to talk to you.”
