Apassionato

Prologue

Gasping for breath, I pause just inside the kirk. As my vision adjusts to the dark, almost medieval lighting, my senses are assaulted anew with the scent of burning candles, drying herbs, and the dank smell of moldering stones. Quickly, I scan the interior and find the nave deserted. Collecting my thoughts, skirts, and composing my features, I calmly walk to a pew and sit, assuming a look of abject devotion. 

My heart is beating out of my chest and the constriction of the corset was sorely tested after my headlong flight through the alleys and byways of Glasgow to this kirk in Duntrocher. My mission may have been uncovered and my flight from the tavern where Seamus and I were performing required we part ways. To throw off any suspicion, and to detect if there was pursuit by the Black Knight or any of his minions, we exchanged a passionate kiss that left the tavern audience with no illusions as to what would happen as we left the stage for the rooms above. The thought had me yearning and softly chuckling in remembrance. Once in our room, we left under cover of the kindness of the chamber maid and tavern owner who covered our exit with an appropriate cacophony of grunts and squeals of which I had no doubt were not play acting at all. 

As I sat in the pew, I fervently hoped Seamus had reached the croft without suspicion. He was a master of disguise and a talented rogue of the first order. He only had his wits to defend himself if the Black Knight’s minions accosted him on the street. Seamus couldn’t afford to look like he was armed if he was to fool the pursuit. Once at the cottage, he had plenty of weapons to choose from, but the best outcome would be if the mercenaries were fooled into believing him the drunken crofter Seamus was playing.  Was the blood of my blood alive?

Seamus knew he had pursuers and to buy Katherine time, he led them on a merry chase through much of Glasgow alternately walking, staggering, mumbling and stumbling to keep up the dissimulation of a tavern patron walking home. He thought to himself, “I must damp down my anxiety about my wife who,  in headlong flight to a Kirk with secret information for our Laird, may also have pursuers.” I knew all the possible routes and used several streets known for such travelers. Argyll street rambled to Renfield street where I staggered on to Hope street. As the dawn approached, I had been down Dumbarton road to Great Western road, through the town center via Sauchiehall street and finally on to Duke street where I fumbled with my sporan to find a key and let myself in to a ramshackle cottage bearing a sign with the title Angus Ambersan – Crofter on the gate. Once in the cottage, I immediately grabbed my claymore and found a strategic window to observe any pursuers. my thoughts wandered and I worried about Katherine as I sat watch. Was she safe? Did she make it to the kirk and to Father Delagrty who was the only person who could get the information they had discovered to Laird Fraser at Castle Lallybroch.  Is the bone of my bone still alive?