18 June, 1767
Charleston, South Carolina, The Colonies
ARCHIE POV
It was a horrendously hot day, hotter than Archie had ever felt - at least, since Jamaica. In Scotland, the weather never reached temperatures this high, and if they got any higher, Archie was certain he would melt. Since the Frasers' arrival in the Colonies, they had been staying between Savannah in Georgia and Charleston, South Carolina in hopes of finding a ship that would take them back to Scotland, but every ship they came across was either not a passenger ship or was asking too much for passage. Not to mention, there was the added concern of his mother's quite advanced pregnancy. Da had been insistent that she not deliver at sea, so Archie believed that a small part of him was deliberately rejecting passage to avoid the risk of Mama going into labour and giving birth at sea. He could see on Mama's face that she, too, was relieved that she would be waiting out the birth.
On this particularly hot day, the Frasers had come to witness the execution of Gabhainn Hayes. Hayes had, unfortunately, been convicted of the murder of a local woman's husband, whom he had been having an affair with. He had come home early and attacked his wife, but seeing as there was very limited protection for women, the 'murder' wasn't seen as the self-defence that it very clearly was.
Da and Archie were admitted into the gaol, where they had asked to speak with Hayes one final time to hear any final words and requests, meeting him in a private room locked in chains. " Mac Dubh , Mac Ruadh… I'm so glad te see friendly faces," said Hayes, not sadly, but gratefully.
"How are ye, Hayes?" Da asked him.
"Oh, as comfortable as a dyin' man can be," said Hayes, giving an awkward smile.
"They're killin' the wrong sort of man," Archie said to him. "Should be a man like Willoughby they send te meet his maker."
"Archie, enough," Da said to him. Archie couldn't help but be angry and resentful towards Willoughby for what he had caused his family. He still couldn't believe the little Chinese had had the audacity to report a man who took him in, gave him food, water, clothes and shelter, just because he had given him a new name that wouldn't cause him further ridicule among Gaelic speakers. If he ever crossed paths with the bastard again, Archie would surely kill him. "Now Hayes, when they set ye free near the gallows, Fergus will create a stramash. Lesley, Archie and I will see te the watchmen, and then ye'll run as though the devil himself is chasin' ye." At this, Hayes scoffed.
"Yer off yer red heid, Mac Dubh ," he said to Da. "Do ye intend te be hanged as well?"
"I cannae let ye die, Hayes. Ye came on this journey te aid us," Da said to him, and Hayes smiled and chuckled lightly.
"Aye, and I dinnae regret it fer a moment," Hayes replied. "Ah, I should have listened te ye, Mac Dubh. I shouldnae have laid wi' tha' woman. I didnae ken she was marrit 'til the husband came upon me wi' a pitchfork. Kicked him down the stairs only te save me own neck, and now, it's wi' me own neck that I'll pay."
"Ye were protectin' yerself, and the woman, Hayes. Ye shouldnae have te pay wi' yer neck at all," Archie told him.
"'Twas a pleasure spendin' time wi' ye, Mac Ruadh . Ye've been a reminder of me own lad - Archibald, he was, also called Archie. I dinnae ken what became of him, after Culloden," said Hayes with a hint of nostalgia. "If he died, I can be reunited wi' him once more."
"I carried him off the battlefield myself, man," Da told him, and Hayes looked up at him with wide eyes. "He was wounded, but he lived."
"He lived?" Hayes asked with widened eyes.
"Aye, but I dinnae ken what became of him after Culloden," Da replied, and the hopeful look in Hayes's eye faded.
"I see," he said. "I thank ye fer savin' my lad, Mac Dubh. Whether he lived or died… doesnae matter now. Ye spared him the torch of the English, and he wasnae desecrated." Hayes then let out a soft sigh. "There's two things ye might grant me, if ye dinnae mind."
"Anythin'," said Da faithfully to his friend.
"First, whisky," said Hayes. "Wi' any luck, I'll hardly notice when the rope tightens."
"Whisky's a bit hard te come by in these parts, but I have a wee bit of rum," Da said.
"I've go' whisky," Archie chimed in, pulling out his own flask. "A lass at the brothel had it, straight from Oban. I may have swiped a wee bit."
"I would thrash ye if I wasnae glad it was true Scottish whisky, lad," Da told him, accepting the flask and bringing it to Hayes's lips for him to drink. "Fer yer soul."
"How about a drop fer my soul as well?" asked an Irish voice, startling Archie and Da. It seemed that the room wasn't empty after all. Around a corner, a pair of feet protruded, and Archie brought the man the flask, coming face to face with a fair-haired Irishman who was a little older than himself.
"Fer yer soul as well, a charaid ," Archie told him.
" Sláinte ," said the man, taking a swig of the whisky.
" Slàinte mhath, " Archie replied, taking it back and taking a swig as well before returning back to Hayes and Da.
"What's yer second request?" Da asked Hayes.
"I'd like the last face I look upon te be that of a friend," said Hayes, giving both Da and Archie a soft smile. "Smilin' at me. If ye dinnae mind."
"Of course. Ye have my word," said Da, smiling at his friend.
CATRÌONA POV
God, it was hot. Even underneath my hat, I felt as if my face was burning, and there wasn't a damn cloud in the sky. I sat in the shade of a building with Caoimhe and Marsali beside me, all three of us in hats and melting underneath our wool dresses, and Fergus stood pacing, waiting eagerly for Archie and Jamie to return.
We had been in the Colonies for three months now, and I was anywhere between seven and eight months pregnant. Being as big as I was made the heat even more unbearable, so I constantly had a hand fan to wave in my face. However, the slight breeze didn't do much to help me, and I longed for a walk by the sea in hopes of getting some relief.
"This heat is makin' me horribly sick," Marsali said suddenly, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.
"Aye, me as well," I told her.
"Would ye like me te go and fetch some ginger from the apothecary?" Caoimhe asked us both.
"In a bit, hen. This is verra important fer yer uncle and he'll need all of the support he can get," I told her, conveniently right as Jamie and Archie returned. "Ah, speak of the devil."
"Fergus," Jamie said to Fergus, who stopped and faced both Archie and Jamie. "When they release Hayes, do nothin'."
"Why, Milord?" asked Fergus with confusion. "Do you have another plan?"
"No. 'Tis what Hayes wants," Jamie replied quietly.
"How are ye feelin', Mama? Do ye want me te take ye back te the inn?" Archie asked me.
"No, lamb, I'm all right. Besides, yer father needs me just now," I said, struggling to stand up with the weight of my belly, and Caoimhe and Archie assisted me to stand.
"Catrìona," Jamie said to me, approaching me and bending his head to kiss me. "Ye shouldnae watch this."
"Ye need me, Jamie. I'll stay wi' ye," I told him, kissing him again.
"But what if the stress of it makes ye go into labour?" Jamie asked me, and I gave him a firm look.
"Jamie, I watched yer godfather cut the throat of an English redcoat when I was pregnant wi' Archie. I think I'll be fine," I told him, and Jamie's cheeks turned a little pink.
"He cut the throat of a redcoat right in front of ye? Christ," Jamie muttered. "Verra well, if ye insist, but I shall hold onto ye, and if ye are in distress at all, I'll take ye away." We then made our way to the town square, where the gallows had been built for public hangings. Lined up were a few men, including Hayes, staring up at the gallows with frightened eyes. Hayes was the first in line, and once his hands were free, he willingly climbed up to the gallows, allowing the hangman to place the noose over his head and tighten it. His lip trembled just a little, but for the most part, he seemed rather stoic, ready to accept his fate.
"The said Gavin Hayes," said a man on the gallows with a scroll in his hand, "feloniously and wilfully did kill and murder against His Majesty's peace, his crown, and his dignity. He has been sentenced to hang from the neck until dead for his crimes."
"I feel strange, smilin' at an execution," I heard Archie whisper to Jamie.
"Hush, lad, and do it fer Hayes," Jamie muttered back to him. I glanced up at Jamie to see him smiling, then looked at Hayes, who noticed Jamie's smile and smiled back, moments before he was shoved off of the platform, an audible snap as his neck broke following immediately. There were gasps from the crowd, and I saw Marsali bury her face in Fergus's chest to mask her distress, and Caoimhe flinched, but otherwise didn't react.
"Next!" called an officer as Hayes's limp and lifeless body was let down from the gallows.
"Stupid guards!" shouted a voice in the crowd - it was Lesley, who was fighting against Duncan Innes's one arm to get to the guards. "Ye've killed a good man!"
"Lesley!" Jamie called, pushing through the crowd to get to him.
"Ye let him die! Hayes!" shouted Lesley, and suddenly, I was pushed backwards as the crowd began to get rowdy.
"Come, Mama, I'll no' let ye be trampled," Archie told me, pushing me backwards and trying to take me back to the inn.
"Jamie!" I called back, looking over my shoulder to see Lesley fighting him.
"They cannae take him from me!" Lesley shouted.
"He's getting away!" screeched a woman's voice, and I could only see the faint blur of a fair-haired man freeing himself from the guards and making a run for it, a handful of guards in red coats running after him with their bayonets.
"Stop at once!" shouted one of them.
"Stop, or I'll shoot!" shouted another, raising his gun and firing, but he missed the runaway criminal and hit the side of a building instead, which caused a few of the ladies to scream.
"Mama!" Archie called, grabbing my arm firmly and pulling.
"Auntie, we have te go!" I heard Caoimhe say, helping Archie to lead me away. We waited impatiently for Jamie to return, and when he did, I immediately jumped up and embraced him.
"Jamie!" I cried. "Are ye hurt? Blessed Bride, Jamie, ye say ye dinnae want me distressed and then ye go and do it yerself!"
"I'm sorry, mo chridhe , but all is well," he told me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me. "All is well."
"'Cept fer the fact tha' the minister is a blatherin' fool," Lesley muttered bitterly behind him, sitting down at a table and flagging down the barmaid.
"What do ye mean? He'll no' let us bury Hayes in consecrated ground?" Archie asked Jamie.
"Aye, he'll no' have a convicted felon buried in his graveyard - at least, no' without a good deal of recompense fer his sins," Jamie replied.
"We could bury him in the wood," said Fergus, chiming in.
"Or we could wait until nightfall, tell the minister te go hang and bury him anyway. I doubt the immoral bastard will waste the time and effort te dig him up," Archie replied.
"Aye, he was mortally scairt of spirits. We cannae bury him in the woods, scairt and alone," Jamie told them.
"Do ye have him?" I asked, and Jamie nodded.
"Aye, he's in the wagon," he told me.
"A man such as Hayes should ne'er hae met wi' such an end," moaned Lesley, already drunk and on his third pint. I raised an eyebrow at how quickly Lesley had downed those three pints. "Without so much as a proper lament sung fer him… No one te mourn him, cast in some savage land, hanged as a felon!"
"We can sing a caithris ," Duncan Innes suggested as Archie sat down at the table and patted Lesley on the back.
"Aye, cannae do no wrong wi' a caithris ," Archie said cheerfully, and then he cleared his throat, raising his own pint of lager.
"Och nan och tha sinn fo mhulad,
Dh'fhag thu Gabhainn sin fo leon
Mac Sheumais, mac Louisa
Dh'fhag thu 'n t-ait rinn d'arach og…
Èist ris, èist ris,
Dh'fhag thu Gabhainn, sinn fo bhròn…"
It was at this point when the rest of us, save for Marsali and Fergus, joined in to sing.
"Èist ris, èist ris,
'S truagh nach eil thu fhathast glè og…"
Lesley then sang the next verse, taking over to lament for his lost friend.
"Thogadh thu ann Cìll-Mhartainn
Ann an sgire Dhun Domhnuill
Rugadh thu ann am baile brèagha
Seachd ciad deug seachd…"
"Èist ris, èist ris,
Dh'fhag thu Gabhainn, sinn fo bhròn…
Èist ris, èist ris,
'S truagh nach eil thu fhathast glè og…"
It was a lament to Hayes's life, talking about his parents, where he was born and when - in 1707 - and Archie added in a verse about how he was the father to a bonny lad named Archie, giving a cheeky smile.
"Te Hayes!" Lesley cried out, raising his pint.
"Te Hayes!" the rest of us announced, although I didn't have a pint. At this point in my pregnancy, most smells were making me nauseous, including the smells of all of the sweaty bodies in the pub.
"I think I need te… step out fer some air," I muttered, making my way outside, and Caoimhe followed me.
"I'll go te the apothecary, get ye some ginger," she said to me. "Marsali's feelin' a wee bit ill, too, so best I go now."
"Oh, all right," I said to her, watching as she made her way down the street with her basket in hand.
CAOIMHE POV
"That'll be a shilling," said the apothecarist to Caoimhe, who paid the man after buying the herbs that Auntie Cat had requested. They came in metal tins, which Caoimhe had placed in her open basket - among them were comfrey, lavender, ginger, peppermint, a native herb called guelder rose bark, and quite a few more to supply her bag with. The apothecarist insisted that guelder rose bark was very helpful for when the pains of childbirth came on, and talked Caoimhe into getting it for her aunt.
"Thank ye verra kindly, sir. It was a pleasure doin' business wi' ye," Caoimhe replied, smiling at him before leaving the shop. The shop had a set of stairs leading up to it, and without paying attention to what was on the steps, Caoimhe stepped down, slipping on an overturned metal tin and falling down the stairs.
"Christ!" shouted a man at the bottom of the steps, who broke Caoimhe's fall as he dropped everything he was carrying. The sound of his goods, followed by the crashing of Caoimhe's tins on the cobblestone street, echoed loudly in the alley as both Caoimhe and the man groaned sorely.
"Oh, sir, I'm so verra sorry!" Caoimhe exclaimed, pushing herself up. She had landed on the man's chest, and he on his back - actually, he was more of a lad. He looked to be around her age, with dark brown curly hair and a very lovely set of blue-grey eyes. Caoimhe caught herself staring at his face for a moment before she forcibly pushed herself off of him, allowing him to sit up a bit. "Are ye hurt? I've a bit of peppermint fer pain, if ye'd like! Somewhere in here…"
"Ah, no, Miss, I'm all right," he said, holding onto his head. "What about you? Are ye hurt?"
"No, ye… sort of broke my fall," said Caoimhe, giggling lightly as her cheeks turned pink, and his did as well. "Er… Here, let me help ye up." She stood up, then bent to help the young lad stand as well - he towered over her, but was under six feet tall, and he was very well built. Caoimhe's cheeks turned even pinker when she found her hands on his chest and pulled them away. "Er… I'm Caoimhe." She held out a hand for him to shake.
"Allan," replied the man called Allan, shaking her hand. "Here, let me help ye wi' yer things." Allan bent down to pick up her tins and place them in her overturned basket, and Caoimhe watched him curiously.
"Yer from Scotland?" she asked him.
"Aye, from Edinburgh," Allan replied. "Ye are as well?"
"Aye, from the isles," Caoimhe replied with a soft smile as Allan stood up and handed her the basket. "Thank ye fer pickin' up my things… and fer breakin' my fall."
"It isnae everra day a pretty girl falls on ye," Allan replied playfully, and Caoimhe laughed. "I beg yer pardon, Miss, but I must be on my way. It was a pleasure te meet ye."
"Ye as well," Caoimhe replied, watching him pick up his own items and rush off. Caoimhe happened to glance down and noticed that the hat he had been wearing still lay on the ground - well, he wouldn't be coming back for it, and Caoimhe liked it better than the straw hat she was given, so she picked it up and put it on, then made her way back to the inn with her herbs.