In the comfort of his small room on the second floor of Amazing Grace’s Inn and Tavern the man known as Kildrummy sat by the small fireplace and brooded. A small glass of whiskey sat on the table by his chair, but for the moment it was forgotten by the Scotsman. His thoughts were once more focused on the battered old leatherbound book that lay open before him on his lap. It was a journal, the entries written in a firm neat hand for the most part at its start that became sprawling and messy on some pages towards its end.

Kildrummy had read the journal many times since it had come into his possession nearly five years ago now. It was a legacy, part of the property left behind when one Dhugal MacParlan of the Clan MacParlan had met a somewhat unique death in faraway Myrken. Those who’d predicted that Dhugal would come to no good end were proven right: he’d been eaten by wolves.

They’d be sadly disappointed if they ever learned the truth.

************************************

The moment Hugh entered the tavern he knew he'd made a big mistake, quite possibly even a fatal one. Two men wearing McGrath tartans were sitting at a table right by the front door and as soon as Hugh had walked by them one had left hurriedly. No doubt he would be fetching more men to come and help avenge the McGrath honor.

Hugh continued making his way towards his usual table by the hearth as if he hadn't a care in the world as his mind grappled with the problem. He should have listened to Dhugal's warning about keeping a low profile while Dhugal made the hurried trip home to Kintail. But three days cooped up in the small room at another tavern had been all a young man could be expected to endure so he'd ventured out this rainy night in search of drink and fun.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "I suppose this will classify as fun of sorts. If I live to tell the tale." He motioned a barmaid over and ordered a whiskey.

It had been nearly a year since the death of young Jeannie McGrath, the duel with her abusive husband and the false accusations that had eventually led to Hugh's expulsion from the priesthood. The authorities had been bribed to hand him over to the McGraths but Cousin Dhugal had anticipated the event and already laid plans. He helped Hugh escape from his McGrath captors and brought him home to Kintail Castle where he'd been nursed back to health. Then as soon as the Earl was reassured his disgraced son was fully recovered Hugh had been shipped off here to Paris in the company of his now equally disgraced and infamous cousin Dhugal.

"See if you can keep each other out of trouble! Devil knows none of the rest us has had any success with you!" The Earl had settled an allowance on the two of them as long as they stayed away but occasionally they ran out of funds sooner than expected. This was one such occasion, and so Dhugal had made the trip home leaving Hugh alone which tonight was a very bad thing indeed.

Hugh grinned as the maid returned with his drink. "Marianina love, will you have pity on a poor lonely highlander this eve? There's two gold coins in it for you, lass." He hoped the look on his face and the question itself would be sufficient to let his friend know he was in trouble. He’d never asked for her services before.

Marianina’s eyes widened slightly, then she reached for his hand."For two gold coins, m'lord, I can be a bloomin' well of compassion! Come along upstairs, sir, and I shall gladly prove it."

Draining his whiskey, he stood and slipped his arm around her waist. A whirl around towards the stairs gave him a brief glance at the doorway where several figures were coming in from the rainy street. "Come quickly then sweet Nina, I fear our time together will be short indeed."

************************************

"Where is he? Don't lie, girl, we saw you come upstairs with MacParlan!"

Three rough looking men pushed their way past the wide-eyed Marianina into her room, spreading out in search of her companion. They checked the closet, then under the bed, even the clothes chest at the foot of the bed without finding Hugh. The leader cursed and turned to glare at the girl.

"Where is he? We'll give you three gold pieces to tell us, that's more than he gave you!" He held out the coins.

The girl quickly grabbed them before he could take them away. "Down the back stairs to the rear alley." She stepped outside the room and pointed down the hall towards a door hidden in the shadows. "You missed him by two minutes."

They were down the hall and out the door before she'd finished talking. `Nina gave a laugh, then turning back into her room crossed quickly to the small window beside her bed and opened it. Hugh was clinging to the trellis against the wall outside looking like a drowned rat in the rain. "You can come in now! They're gone."

Hugh grinned. "Thank you, my love. I'm eternally in your debt." He leaned out to grasp the window ledge and pull himself back into the room

Then the trellis gave way, and Hugh Muir fell into the darkness below.

© 02/07


Masks 2

Marianina had long enjoyed a succession of eager…admirers… and many of them preferred a bit of discretion. So over the years the trellis outside her window had seen a fair bit of traffic. The tavern keeper understood that a happy customer was a returning customer and had provided a bit more privacy by screening the bottom of the trellis from prying eyes with empty crates and barrels stacked a few feet away from the wall.

When the trellis broke Hugh was above the top of the makeshift barrier and so instead of dashing his head on hard cobblestones he crashed into the crates below. They broke his fall, but the racket echoed off the alley walls and drew the attention of his pursuers. He scrambled around looking for cover and crawled into a nearby large barrel and hoping he'd not been spotted he kept as still as he could as footsteps came closer.

"Damn him! Where did he go?"

"He went that way!" Marianina shouted from her window. "The rogue was trying to climb back up into my room!"

Hugh wondered which way the barmaid was pointing so he could run the other way when he got out of this damn barrel. Assuming he could run anywhere, that was. His temporary shelter had been a wine barrel and the fumes from the wood were enough to make him dizzy.

One of the McGraths was skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he went that way towards the river, you oaf!" Then the sound of window shutters being slammed came as Marianina put an emphatic end to the conversation. Hugh vowed to reward the lass later for her ingenuity.

There was a moment's silence followed by hurried whispers among the hunters. Judging from the feet Hugh could see from beyond the mouth of the barrel there were at least four men, all armed with swords while Hugh had only a pair of daggers. His best hope was that the men would believe Marianina's ruse and head down the alleyway towards the docks, giving Hugh a chance to sneak off up the alley to the street that led back towards his room.

It seemed like an eternity but finally the McGraths started to move away. "Damn him!" cursed the man Hugh had heard earlier, then a boot kicked at the barrel. It began to roll down the alley, picking up speed as it moved downhill.

Hugh had a fleeting glimpse of boots as he rolled past the men of the McGrath clan. There was nothing he could do about his present situation but pray the barrel didn't roll all the way down to the wharves and into the water and that those hunting him didn't realize that the barrel rolling away from them didn't sound as if it were empty.

"Hey! HEY! Somebody stop that barrel!"

They'd sent the intelligent McGraths after him, apparently.

Hugh cursed as the barrel rumbled on, bouncing off the cobblestones, and the noise making it impossible to tell how far back his pursuers were behind it. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sensation of falling that would tell him he was about to plunge into the water.

Then there was a loud CRACK and the barrel came to a violent stop.

Hugh crawled out onto a rough surface, his head still spinning. The McGraths were not visible but he could hear them shouting off in the distance and their voices seemed to be coming closer. He pushed himself dizzily to his feet and tried to get an idea of just where in Hades he had ended up. It was another alleyway, a bit wider than the one behind the tavern. Crates and boxes lined the walls on either side of it and Hugh realized the walls belonged to two of the dockside warehouses. He'd been incredibly lucky.

He stumbled further down the alley and into the darker shadows, leaning against a wall until the dizziness from the barrel ride passed and checked himself for injuries. He ached all over but nothing seemed to be broken. He'd be stiff in the morning though after this foolishness, assuming he could survive until then. But if he was at a disadvantage in weapons, Hugh had one thing his opponents didn't: a familiarity with the city that the McGraths couldn't possess. He and Dhugal had attended university here and then the seminary so Hugh knew quite a bit of the shortcuts and backalleys of Paris.

He waited a half-hour, then made his way cautiously out of the alley onto the street, limping as he went. If he could make it across to the other side he could cut through a smaller street and up the hill back to his room near the universities.

He was halfway across when he saw the clansman walking towards him from his right.

"Hey you! You seen a barrel come rolling by here?"

Hugh wondered what Dhugal would do in a situation like this. He stared speechlessly at the approaching clansman as he tried to come up with a reply, swaying a bit still with dizziness. The other man took in that unsteadiness along with the odor of wine and made the obvious conclusion.

"Did you see a barrel roll by or are you so drunk you wouldn't have noticed it unless it knocked you over?" The McGrath leaned in close, then back as the odor repulsed him.

For some reason that made Hugh think of all the times his father had scolded Dhugal and he for some foolish escapade.

And it was that memory that gave Hugh a solution.

© 02/07


Masks 3

"Droonk? I'm nae droonk, y'..y'…" Hugh grasped for the word Dhugal might have used."…y' numpty! If I was droonk, I'd be lyin' flat oon m' back! As lang as I can walk, I' m nae droonk!" He used the highland brogue that was Dhugal's when his cousin had a bit too much to drink.

The Mcgrath clansman swore and came closer, grabbing Hugh by the right arm. "With that accent you have to be from home. Are you with Laird MacPharlan's son? What's your name?"

Hugh drew himself up with exaggerated drunken dignity. "I'm Dhugal MacPharlan o' th' Clan MacPharlan."

"You're not who we're hunting, but no doubt there's plenty of room in hell for all you MacPharlans." The man grinned, reaching for his sword.

"Nae doobt." Hugh agreed, lurching forwards as if about to fall on his face.Then he brought around his left hand to ram the dagger he'd been concealing up into the chest of his would be killer before the sword could be drawn. Hugh leaned in closer so the dying McGrath could hear his whisper. "You gang oon ahead first though an’ save us a seat, eh?"

He draped his right arm around the dead man's shoulders and moved off towards the far alleyway as if it were now a pair of drunks moving across the street. Once back into the shadows he shoved the body away, keeping his grip on the dagger's hilt so it slid free as the dead man fell. Hugh cleaned the blade on his enemy's cloak and sheathed it, then he relieved the deadman of his swordbelt and weapon before moving off as quietly as he could.

Down the street, the other McGraths were calling for their missing kinsman.

Emerging from the far end of the alleyway onto yet another street, Hugh picked up his pace. He was familiar with this area and hoped he could make it to safety before his luck ran out. Once he was safely off the streets he'd keep out of sight until Dhugal's return and then propose to his cousin that it was time for them to move on to a country with less McGraths running about.

A quarter mile down this street he turned off into another alley and came out onto a third street. He began to relax; he was nearly there. This part of town was home to many of the students at the various universities and the MacParlan cousins had been among them. It had been only natural to return here when Hugh had fled the McGraths' vengeance.

By all rights he should have been safe now, but as he made his way along the street he could see someone ahead with a drawn sword. It was the leader of the pursuit.

"Well now, wasn't I the smart one to see that all I'd have to do is wait here for the others to drive you into my waiting blade, eh MacParlan?" His smile vanished though when he saw the sword Hugh carried in its distinctive sheathe. "That's Michael's sword. Where is he?"

"In a warm place waiting for you." Hugh drew the blade but knew he'd lose this fight; he was too sore and bruised from the barrel ride. He took a few steps to his right, stalling for time as he tried to think of a way out of this. His answer appeared in the guise of a trio of slightly drunken students who emerged from a tavern doorway.

"Here now!"

"What is this?"

"MacParlan, is that you?"

Hugh smiled. "Aye, it's me, a poor student about to be attacked by a gang of ruffians." By now the shouts further behind Hugh told him the other hunters were gaining on him. "I could use some help."

The McGrath swordsman laughed. "Help? From these sots?"

"Well, yes. And their friends."

And that was when the three drunken scholars bellowed out the traditional rallying cry whenever one of their own clashed with the folk of the city: "STUDENTS!"

Out of the taverns they came in answer to that call. A few seconds later a opposing group of apprentices and town rowdies appeared to see what the ruckus was about and the fighting began.spreading In a few moments Hugh was pushing his way through the crowd away from the fight but his opponent was paralleling Hugh's route and then moving towards him, blade drawn.

Hugh had no choice. He would have to fight. He drew the captured sword and motioned his opponent forwards. "Alright, come on and get it over with!"

Then there was a loud roar of voices, someone shoved him from behind, and he fell forwards to hit his head on the cobblestones and he knew no more.

*************************************

Hugh woke to the sight of grey stone arching over him. His head ached, and for a few bewildered moments he thought he was back in the McGrath dungeons and that his escape and everything after was naught but a fevered dream.

"Ah, awake are we? Here, see if you can keep some of this broth down." A grey robed man bent over Hugh, moving a cup towards the clansman's lips. "You had quite a nasty knock on your noggin but I think you'll make a full recovery." Hugh took a few sips as instructed and then chanced a look at his surroundings. He soon recognized them as one of the infirmaries the universities all maintained for their students. From the number of patients around the room the riot must have been rather large by the time it had been contained.

The healer took the cup of broth away. "If you can keep that down when you sit fully up and you aren't dizzy I can release you. We've need for the cot, you see." he said with an apologetic smile. "And I'm sure you'll want to make arrangements for your kinsman." He pointed to a nearby cot whose occupant was completely covered by a cloak with the McGrath colors.

Hugh sat all the way up. "Kinsman?"

"Yes. We did what we could but something hit him so hard in the face that the bones of his nose drove up into the brain. I'm afraid the damage to his face was extensive. We’ve guessed a stone hit him. It would help us if you could identify him for us, for our records, you see."

Hugh didn't bother to nod. He was fairly sure doing so might be a mistake given the way his head felt. But after a moment he pushed himself to his feet and took a few tentative steps and finding that he wasn't going to fall over on his face once again, he walked the rest of the way over to the body and pulled back the cloak to look at the face.

It was the McGrath leader who'd barred his way on the street. His face was so bloody and swollen though that it took Hugh a few more seconds to realize who it was laying there.

"So, what is his name?" The healer stood nearby with quill and parchment ready to add the name to the list of casualties.

Hugh was never quite certain why he said what he did next but at the time it seemed like a brilliant idea. "He's my cousin, Laird Hugh Muir o' MacParlan."

The healer blinked. "Oh my. We will send word to his family at once, of course." To a city dweller one clan's plaids were indistinguishable from the other. "And you are?"

"Dhugal MacParlan o' th' Clan MacParlan. And I'll bring word o' his death to his family myself. Now if y' will pardon my hasty departure, I must gae an' make th' prooper arrangements t' hae m' cousin's body sent hame."

"Of course."

Hugh gave the man some coins to pay for the necessary preparations for the body and then left the infirmary. Word that a highland lord's son Had died in the rioting would buy him the time he'd need to get away out of the city. He would have to hurry though.

Sooner or later the rest of the McGraths would come looking for the body to confirm the death of Hugh Muir and find one of their own instead.

By that time, Hugh intended to be far, far away.

© 02/07

~ finis ~