The dining hall was tall and wide, the walls decorated with a great number of swords, axes, halberds, polearms, shields and dozens of other medieval weapons of war. The grand dining table in the center of all was long and thin, ornately calved and flanked on all sides by chairs.
Sat at the head of the table, Ian De'ath finished his last mouthful of stew, Nick and Judy sat either side of him. McGnab approached the table and removed their plates and Angus was reciting yet more of the clan's history, Highland basket-hilted saber in paw as he spoke.
"This belonged to Houghian De'ath, the firth Laird. He was one of Wallace's men."
"Wallace?" Hopps asked.
"William Wallace," Ian answered, taking a swig of brandy, "a Highland patriot."
"Houghian De'ath and William Wallace were executed by the Lowlanders for treason in fifteen oh-four." Walking back to the wall, Angus pointed to another saber. "The sixth Laird, Charles, used this. He was with-"
Angus' history lesion continued on, but the fox was no longer listening as he looked down at his glass nonchalantly the adjusted liquid shook and rippled within. He cleared his throat softly, something Judy knew to mean 'look', and without turning her head, her gaze moved to look at him.
The fox's eyes indicated her own glass. Judy looked, and her brow furrowed. Reaching out a paw, but making it look like she was just picking up her glass, she rested her fingers lightly upon it. The glass was vibrating - so were the plates and the table, once she noticed it - but it was most noticeable for how it made the liquid in her drink shake before she picked it up and took a sip.
"-and the twelfth Laird, like all the others, was a fighter. There was a De'ath at the Battle of Stotingham, at the Battle of Badgersfield and the Battle of Bullmarsh."
"It's a proud tradition," Hopps said.
"And exploitable," Ian cut in.
"That's a harsh word."
"An honest one, I think. What interest do you - any of you - really have in this place beyond its financial potential?"
"Och, away with you," Angus said, "people are interested in the past."
"And the castle is a historical treasure trove," Judy said.
"Which could be made to sell," Ian added, "handsomely. What's your opinion, MacWilde?"
"Well, it's in my interest for the castle to do well. I want the story of Black Jamie to sell, after all."
"Och, aye. That book of yours."
"Angus was telling me Jamie betrayed the clan?"
"That's right, Hopps," Nick said, "he made a pact with the other clans and then lead his own men into a trap."
"The massacre of Black Jamie," Ian muttered, "it was a bitter day."
"And to hear you talk about it you'd think it happened last week," Angus shot, "not five hundred years ago!"
"Well he keeps the memory of it alive, doesn't he?"
"Black Jamie?" the rabbit asked.
"Aye. His treachery was uncovered, and he was bricked up in the East tower for it."
The fox's ears pricked up. "And he's still in there?"
"Since the last stone was set in place, not a living soul has entered that tower."
"But his ghost walks," Angus added, "playing the lament of Black De'ath on the bagpipes."
The rabbit chuckled. "Really? His ghost?"
"Aye, I've heard it."
The rabbit squinted, turning to Ian. "And you?"
"Aye, on occasion."
Sitting forwards, the fox opened his mouth. "It's about time we popped in for a visit, don't you think?"
"No!" Ian shot.
"He must be very lonely."
"Walled up 'til doomsday was his sentence and 'til doomsday he'll stay there!"
The fox turned to the rabbit, there eyes met, and Ian retreated into a moody silence.
"Would you like to see where the last stone was set in place?" Angus asked.
"I'd love to," Judy said.
"This way, then."
"Ian," she said, "are you coming?"
"I've seen it, Miss Hopps."
"But you won't mind us," Nick said, standing, "or our curiosity."
...
Nick and Judy followed the large body of the badger down a wide corridors, between suits of amour which towered over the smaller bodies of the fox and the rabbit.
"Really quite a little armory, you got here," Nick said.
"Aye, and every bit of it bloodied. Now," he continued, coming to a wall at the end of the corridor, "the corridor used to carry on down here and you can see where it's been bricked up. They say the centerstones were the last to be put in place, and that as the last were being inserted, Black Jamie was seen on the other side playing his bagpipes."
"Good for Black Jamey," Nick said, "game until the last."
"And sometimes," the badger whispered, "at the dead of night, his ghostly piping is still to be heard."
"Well," the rabbit said, skeptically, "he can't do much harm, not bricked up behind a wall."
"But Miss Rabbit," Nick said, "the first thing a ghost learns is to walk through walls! It's part of any self-respecting ghosts basic training."
"Och, and now you're scoffing. But seriously, there is a ghost. I've heard it!"
"Well," the fox said, "he'll have to have a lot of wind in his bag to disturb me tonight. A mix of walking by the loch, the fine Highland air and good brandy have me ready for a long night's sleep in one of those lovely, gigantic beds of yours. Good-night, Angus," he said as he turned.
"See you in the morning, Mister MacWilde," Angus said as he paced away down the corridor.
The fox turned to the rabbit, his expression fond as he reached down and took up her paw in his, raising it genitally to his mouth as he lent forwards. "Good-night, Miss Judy Hopps," he said, kissing her soft paw affectionately.
"Night, Nick," she replied. Pacing down the corridor, the rabbit came to her bedroom door. She opened it, took one step in, and then turned to the fox as he made to open his own bedroom door. "See you soon."
Nick froze and turned to her as she disappeared into her room. A smile slowly grew on his muzzle. Now... does 'soon' mean 'tomorrow', or is she telling me to-
"MacWilde?"
Nick turned, his grin still in place. His grin froze, however, as he came face to face with the black-furred feline Judy had described to have attacked her. He forced his smile to remain natural as he replied. "Yes?"
"There be an East wind picking up. It's inclined to howl around this room, so I've taken the liberty of moving your things."
"...thank you."
"The Laird Dardly room, there."
Wordlessly, the fox crossed the corridor to the room opposite. He opened the door and stepped inside, turning back to black-furred feline who was extinguishing the candles which lit the corridor.
The fox shut the door and moved inside. The room was much too large for a mammal of his size, just like the rest of the castle was, the De'ath's being a family of badgers. He paced slowly about, checking for anything amiss before crossing to the large, four poster bed which reached all the way up to the ceiling.
Reaching forwards, the fox pulled the curtains shut before stripping down to his boxers, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping from his trousers before climbing up onto the raised bed.
Looking all about himself once more, the fox lifted up the sheets of the bed and slipped inside, allowing the thick blankets to settle back over his russet body as he closed his eyes in the darkness to sleep.
...
A full moon rose over the darkness of the Highland moors. The castle stood alone in the baron darkness, not a light present to illuminate its towering form. The corridors within were quiet and still, dark and cold in the drafty night air.
But for all silence and emptiness, a single, clear sound rang through the night air. The sound of bagpipes playing their ghostly tune, the eerie music echoing through the stone halls and ringing clearly out upon the miles of empty moors.
It rang up through the castle's stone towers and it's wide halls, down it's long corridors and into the ears of a sleeping bunny.
Judy turned over in bed, her ear picking up and her eyes beginning to open as her ears adjusted and rotated towards the door, the nose becoming clearer in her mind.
As though called to answer the ghostly tune, the rabbit stood and pulled herself from her bed. She slipped on her dressing gown over her loose nightshirt and small, black panties and pulled open the door to the corridor outside, her head poking from within as the now-clear sound of bagpipes filled her ears.
Stepping out into the cold, she pulled the door shut behind her and hurried across to Nick's room. She tapped on the door quietly, then pushed it open, concern building within her as she saw the room empty and the bed unslept in.
The rabbit rushed from the room, fearing the worst, stepping back out into the corridor and following the eerie noise of ghostly piping. The rabbit kept her body hunched low, her footfall silent, her head darting this way and that as she checked the shadows as she made her way along the corridor, down a flight of steps, and to a thick, metal-reinforced door which lead down to the basement.
The under-dressed rabbit reached out a paw to the cold metal of the latch, finding the door unlocked despite the fact she saw Ian lock it earlier. She turned the handle. The latch moved with a clank. The door swung open and the sound of bagpipes filled the air, clear as day.
Glancing over her shoulder, Judy stepped into the heavy darkness of the basement beneath, her trepidation completely eradicated by her worry for her foxy partner. She made her way quickly down the stone steps which were cold as ice beneath her bare feet, the room lit only by the light of the moon which shone through a window from outside the basement, meaning she had to keep the door open so the room was not plunged into total darkness.
Picking her way trough the broken wood and strewn metal on the floor in the dim light, she paced softly to the other end of the room, gazing into the face of the female badger painted onto the Iron Maiden. Judy didn't know why it struck her so, but that painting of the crying badger always made her heart turn chill.
The bagpipes rang on ominously. The sound was strongest in this room certainly, yet there was no viable source anywhere in sight.
Remembering Nick's question, she turned and examined the rack. Reaching out a paw, the rabbit touched the handle of the wicked device. The metal had been recently oiled. Her gaze moved along the length. The leather straps looked to be relatively new. Standing upright, Judy crossed her arms in through. Her ears raised. She turned.
Again, the image of the crying, female badger struck her. She now realized why. Apart from the feeling it gave off - of a wife who has recently lost her husband - there was also the fact... this was the source of that ghostly playing.
Stepping towards the Iron Maiden. She heaved the heavy door open. She flinched back with a startled gasp at the wall of deadly spikes which were attached to the door, but she returned her attention to the back wall.
The sound of bagpipes were stronger than ever now, almost deafening to the rabbit as she reached up a paw to the smooth, wooden surface. She stepped in a little closer into the Maiden, being careful to make sure the door didn't swung shut on her, resulting in a sudden and very bloody end.
She stepped in a little further more as she reached up a paw to run her hand along edge of the back wall of the Maiden, and then...
*BANG*
...the door slammed shut.
The room was plunged into darkness as the door at the top of the staircase shut. She stepped out of the Iron Maiden and stumbled on a piece of broken wood in the floor in the total darkness, what little light had been let into the room now blocked by the thick door which was now shut.
The rabbit took another step and stumbled on a second piece of wood. Her ears pricking up, the rabbit froze as she heard another sound. Click. The sound of the door being locked from the outside.
...
In the confines of Nick's guest bedroom, the form of a fox lay in a light doze. Above him, the ceiling started to move. Guided by the bed's four posters, lowered down on four thick chains, a huge slab of stone descended silently towards the bed.
The form of the fox turned over onto his back. His nose twitched and he raised a paw from beneath the sheets to scratch it. He opened his eyes a crack.
*SLAM*
