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Her sturdy boots were dull against the stone as she reached the landing below.

A torch flickered down here, wedged into an iron sconce and sending black smoke against the low ceiling.

As Josephine’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see there were two cells on this level, barred cages that were full of wet straw.

There was no one in them. But immediately to her right was a door of rotting oak, held together by strips of iron, and a broken iron handle.

A door , she thought. It could open up to more stairs or it could actually be another cell.

Nervously, Josephine fumbled with the bolt, and pushed as hard as she could until it finally gave and jerked from its hole.

Timidly, she pushed firmly on the door until it gave way and yawned open into the dark abyss beyond.

Josephine saw nothing in the black. Hastily, she grabbed the fatted torch from its iron sconce and thrust it into the darkness. A room came into view, but not just any room; there was a neatly made cot, a table and chair, and fresh straw on the floor that led her to believe someone was inside.

“Is anyone here?” she called softly. “Can anyone hear me?”

There was no answer. Holding the torch lower, she could see a bucket in the corner for a privy, and a stool with neatly stacked blankets against the wall.

Taking a hesitant step into the chamber, she was startled when, off to her right, she saw a flint spark twice before it lit a fish-oil lamp.

As she looked over, a woman’s face suddenly came into the light.

“Put out the torch; it hurts,” the woman said feebly.

Shocked, Josephine instantly complied. Her eyes strained against the barely-visible flame from the lamp as she tried to get a better look at the woman.

“My lady?” she said in disbelief. “Are you… may I ask who you are?”

The woman tried to look more closely at her, but her eyesight was so bad in the weak light that it made it very difficult.

“Who are you ?” she asked.

Josephine took a few steps closer and peered into the woman’s eyes as her own eyes adjusted to the darkness. It took her a moment to realize that she was looking into Andrew’s eyes, and the awareness made her breath catch in her throat.

My God… could it be?

“My name is Lady Josephine de Carron,” she said after a moment.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

What did she want? God’s Bones, she wanted to help the woman!

She wanted to take her out of this hellish existence and take her someplace safe until Andrew could arrive.

Tears sprang to Josephine’s eyes as she thought of the joy on Andrew’s face when he realized his mother was alive.

This was such an important moment, and one not lost on Josephine.

She was so overwhelmed that she was starting to tremble.

“I came to find you,” she said simply. “Alphonse said you were alive but I did not believe it until this very moment.”

The woman was still suspicious. “What do you want of me?”

Josephine shook her head. “I want nothing, I swear it,” she said. “May I have your name, please? I do not even know it.”

The woman hesitated quite some time before speaking. “I am Elaine.”

Elaine . Such a beautiful name. Josephine smiled at her, hoping to alleviate some of the woman’s suspicion. “As I said, my name is Josephine de Carron. I am not sure where to start with all of this, but your son, Andrew, told me…”

That drew a strong reaction from Elaine and her voice cracked. “Andrew?” she gasped, interrupting her. “You know my Andrew?”

“I do, my lady.”

“He is alive?”

“He is, indeed.”

Elaine stared at her for a moment longer, utter and complete shock in her eyes, before the threat of tears became very real. As Josephine watched, tears began to trickle from the woman’s old, tired eyes.

“Alive,” Elaine breathed. “My prayers have been answered, then. My Andrew survived.”

Josephine could see how joyful she was, but it was more than joy.

It was a mother’s belief in the power of prayer, the only power she had caged up in this dark and terrible prison.

It was the only thing she had to cling to.

When Elaine finally closed her eyes, tears streamed down her face.

Josephine was elated with the woman’s joy, but she also felt terrible for Elaine and the circumstances she’d had to endure.

She hastened to reassure her that her beloved Andrew was, indeed, alive and well.

“He is a powerful knight,” she said. “He is a mercenary, my lady, the greatest mercenary in all of Scotland. He is coming for you, I promise. He will not leave you here to die.”

Elaine looked at her, confused by the suggestion. Although logically, she knew Andrew was a grown man, the last time she’d seen him, he’d been a youth. In her mind, he was still young and small and a child.

“But… he cannot, not against Alphonse,” she whispered. “He must not. And you… why are you here?

Josephine sighed. How do I explain this? she thought. “I am a cousin of King Alexander,” she said. “The king betrothed me to Alphonse, Earl of Annan and Blackbank. But my love, my heart, belongs to his brother, Andrew. The king dissolved my betrothal to Andrew so that I could marry Alphonse.”

Lady Elaine put up a ghostly white hand. “Beg pardon, my lady,” she said. “You tell me that you love my son, Andrew, yet you have married Alphonse?”

“I have yet to marry Alphonse,” Josephine said firmly.

As she looked at the women, she began to wonder just how long that would hold true.

If Alphonse wanted to marry her on this day, she would have no choice.

She started to feel rather panicky about it.

“Andrew will come for us before that happens, I promise. You will not have to live down here any longer.”

Lady Elaine seemed to be grasping the gist of the situation; was there actually hope on the horizon?

Was it even possible? She’d spent nineteen years in this hole, although she only knew how long it had been because Alphonse gleefully told her nearly every time he visited her, which wasn’t too often, thankfully.

Still, he did come. And he did gloat. But now… was it possible the end was in sight? As she stood there, her bony knees gave way and she sank forward onto the straw-covered floor. Josephine sank beside her, reaching out to grasp her ice-cold hands.

“He is coming?” Elaine breathed. “My… my Andrew is coming? He is a great man now?”

Josephine smiled at the woman, feeling flesh in her hands that was colder than anything she’d ever felt in her life. She immediately moved to untie the cloak around her neck.

“He is a great man, indeed,” she said softly, swinging the cloak over the woman’s tiny shoulders to try and warm her icy flesh.

“He has not forgotten you, not in all of these years. But I do not believe he realizes you are alive. I believe he thinks Alphonse killed you those years ago when he imprisoned you. He has sworn vengeance because of it.”

Elaine could feel the soft fur lining of the cloak against her skin, warm and comforting.

As Josephine pulled it tightly around the old woman, Elaine’s suspicion transformed into disbelief and, quite possibly, elation.

She could hardly believe what was happening.

She couldn’t take her eyes from Josephine.

“But… he should not come,” she said softly, her voice weak from hardly every being used. “He must stay away. Alphonse will kill him.”

Josephine shook her head. “You do not seem to understand,” she said, rubbing the woman’s hands to try to bring some warmth into them. “Andrew is a great warrior. He will kill Alphonse and you will not have to live in this cell any longer.”

Elaine could hardly dare to believe any of this. Her expression took on a fearful countenance. Finally, she asked the question she’d been thinking all along.

“Am I dreaming?”

Josephine laughed softly. “You are not dreaming. This is real.”

Elaine was struggling to digest everything.

Her world was one of blackness, a perpetual darkness that erased any concept of day or night.

It was like a perpetual dream state, one she was now being awoken from.

She tore her eyes away from Josephine, looking around the chamber that was hardly tall enough for her to stand up in.

The ceiling was very low, and she’d had to walk hunched over.

So, over the years she’d developed a hump in her back.

She had been living in darkness for so very long, condemned to a horrific existence by a man she’d given birth to.

But now, it seemed that darkness was soon to end.

Her Andrew was coming.

“Tell me, Lady Josephine,” she said after a moment. “Is the sky just as blue as I remember it?”

Josephine felt a lump in her throat at the question. “Aye,” she said. “It is a beautiful day today. No rain.”

Elaine nodded, trying to picture a sky she hadn’t seen in so many years. “I always know when it is raining,” she said. “Water comes down the stairs and pools at my door. I knew it was not raining today.”

Josephine continued to rub the old woman’s hands, feeling some warmth coming back into them. “Nay, it was not,” she said. “It is early autumn. The trees are beginning to turn colors and soon, the days of winter will come.”

Elaine’s thoughts turned to the trees of the land, trees that were now like wraiths to her fragile mind. Did they even really exist? She could hardly remember.

“It would be nice to see the trees again,” she said. “And you, Lady Josephine; where did you come from?”

Josephine could see the light of interest in the old woman’s eyes, as if she were finally coming to understand that she was real, that all of this was real, and that there was hope for her future.

“I was born not far from here, actually,” she said. “My family home is Torridon Castle. My father was the Earl of Ayr.”