As they went downstairs the smoke rose to meet them, but they knew that they had to carry on, regardless of the discomfort. However, it soon became apparent that they would never reach the tunnels, since Tara was almost fainting and could barely stand up. As well as that, the smoke was so thick, it was impossible to see.
Gowan picked his mother up and they retraced their steps until they were back on the walkway along the highest turret again. Now there was no way down unless they jumped to their deaths.
He felt panic and terror rise up inside him, but he knew he could not afford to show it. He was the head of the household now and he needed to be strong, even more so than his mother, who was the strongest person he knew.
Tara was still coughing uncontrollably and tears were rolling down her cheeks from her streaming eyes, but presently she collected herself, wiped her eyes and sighed in resignation. “We must surrender, son. There is nothing else we can do, even if we manage to escape this hell.”
They were standing in an isolated wing of the castle, one which was connected to the bulkiest bit of the building by a slender bridge of stone. It had been built for decoration more than anything else, and Gowan was relieved to know that it was very unlikely the rest of the castle would catch fire. It had been deliberately put to the torch because the enemy knew Gowan and his mother were inside it.
Now, Gowan shook his head vehemently. “No, Mother.” His voice was firm and determined. “There must be another way we can get down.” He paced around the parapet then stopped suddenly.
The castle had been built at the top of a hill which was steep, almost cliff-like, on one side, and nearly flat on the other, so that one side of the wall was much lower, and that was where a chestnut tree had been planted when his grandfather was a boy. It was over fifty years old now and its branches stretched out in a great network of leaves and branches. Some of them had reached the parapet where they were standing.
Gowan’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of climbing down the tree was terrifying, probably the most frightening thing he would ever do in his life, but they had no choice. Dying by falling was better than being burnt alive or choked to death - he hoped.
“We must climb down the tree,” he told Tara, as calmly as he could. “Otherwise we will burn to death, Mammy. There is no other escape. Even if we surrendered, there is no way to get down apart from the tree, and they would likely not hear us shouting over the noise this fire is making.”
Tara was terrified. She looked at the fire and then at her son. He was right. They could stand here and die or try to survive. She preferred the latter option, but she knew they had to hurry. Already a few sparks had ignited the grass. It was still wet from the previous day’s rain, and was not yet fully alight, but it would only take a few more minutes. After that it would be no more than scorched earth.
Gowan balanced precariously on the top of the parapet for a moment and tried not to look down, then he grabbed a strong branch and offered it to his mother.
He looked her squarely in the eye. “This branch is strong enough to hold you, Mother, and I have faith in you,” he said firmly. “You can do this. I know you can.”
His mother cupped his face and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “In case anything happens to me, Gowan, I want you to know something.” Her eyes searched his face for a moment. “I am so proud of you, my strong, brave lad, and I love you more than life itself. Be careful.” Then she kissed his cheek lightly and began to descend. The tender skin of her hands became chapped and raw before she arrived at the ground, but somehow, after almost falling a number of times, she made it down to the earth.
Gowan sighed with relief as he saw her feet touch the ground, then he too scrambled down the tree and arrived safely at the bottom. He wrapped his arms around his mother, finding her limp with relief.
“I love you, Mother,” he whispered, then he took her hand and they began to run.
Suddenly, three of the Darroch men appeared in front of them, each one armed to the teeth. Gowan had nothing but a dagger with which to defend himself, but he had to try or die in the attempt, so he held the weapon up and took a step forward. He was about to shout at them when his mother grasped his arm.
“No, son,” she said sadly. “There is no point in fighting against such overwhelming odds. Surrender, please.”
He was about to lay the dagger on the ground when, for some reason he would not be able to fathom until much later, his mother began to run back in the direction in which they had just come. The soldiers took off after her, and he looked around to find that she had glanced back at him. Later, he was sure that she had mouthed the word‘go!’before the men overwhelmed her. He never saw her again.
He turned and ran, but had only managed a few steps when he tripped and landed on the ground, hitting the side of his face on a piece of burning tree branch. The chestnut tree had caught fire and was raining sparks and burning twigs on the floor. He began to crawl, then scramble along for a few yards, injuring his hands in the process.
He screamed with pain, but somehow managed to get to his feet and start running again. He could hear the Darroch men’s shouts and curses as well as the sound of their footsteps behind him, then one of the Darroch soldiers was upon him. Gowan held up his sword and with the impetus of the man’s speed, the soldier impaled himself on it and collapsed on the grass with one last painful groan. More soldiers appeared from between the trees, and began to give chase.
He tried to speed up. He needed to stay alive. He had to. There would be justice for his mother, and he would see it done, if it was the last thing he ever did.
At last, he saw Loch Begg in front of him. The loch had good memories for him; he had played there often as a child, but he was not playing now. Now his life depended upon reaching it. He knew exactly where to dive in and where the water was deepest.
Just as the Darroch men were about to catch him, he saw the big rock that he had always dived from when he was playing with his friends. He leapt onto it then plunged into the water, sinking to the bottom at once.
The icy shock of it relieved the pain of the burn almost immediately, but Gowan knew that he had no time to waste, so he swam away underwater until he could no longer hold his breath. Thereafter, he surfaced and waited in the loch under the shadow of a nearby willow tree until he was sure the coast was clear. Then he surfaced and threw himself on the bank until he regained his breath, and it was then that everything hit him at once.
He had lost his mother. He knew that without needing to be told, because he could feel the agony in his heart that told him it was broken. As well as that, the actual physical pain of his wounds was excruciating, and all he could do was rinse them with cold river water. He had no bed, and no roof over his head. He had lost everything, and the only thing left to do was weep, because his life had no meaning any more. What was the use of living alone with no-one to love and no-one to love you?
Then a thought occurred to him. He did have one thing to live for; revenge.
2
Present day
It was dawn, but the sun had not yet peeped over the horizon, and the sky was still gray as Minna Darroch dismounted from her horse and knocked at the door of the humble cottage. The young woman who answered the door smiled at the visitor who stood on her doorstep. She was no more than five feet tall, with sleek golden brown hair and a pair of bright blue eyes, and like most of the villagers of Cairndene, she was too thin. She was carrying a small child in her arms, a little boy of about a year old who reached out and gleefully pulled Minna’s hair.
“Good evening, Morag.” Minna smiled as she tried to prise her hair out of the baby’s fingers. “Ow! He has a strong grip!” She was laughing, however.