by Barbara Bard
Agatha smiled. “Good. Because Gavina has requested your presence. Her and Connor have finalized their plan of attack.”
“What is it?”
“They say they are going to lure in Simon. They say they are going to burn the fields outside the village upon his arrival.”
The whites of Eamon’s eyes began to show. “Are they serious?”
Agatha nodded. “Gavina said we have no choice. They feel that only a plan of attack akin to that of Simon’s own tactics will be what helps us prevail.”
Eamon sighed, taking a few mouthfuls of the stew in before speaking. “These are such mad times,” he said. “I cannae believe that we find ourselves at this point.”
Agatha sat beside Eamon, rubbing his back in slow circles to comfort him. “But it will bring an end to Simon and the Hands of God.”
“One maist hope. But it is still a great risk.” Eamon looked at his love in the eye. “What dae ye think, Agatha? Is this a wise course of action?”
Agatha smiled wryly. “I do, quite honestly. Any time you have confronted Simon head-on it ends in disaster. As Gavina has stated—a plan of attack akin to that of Simon will no doubt assist in bringing him down. You have to fight fire with fire, in this case, literally.”
Eamon laughed. “Oh, me love. I dinnae ken that ye had a sense of humor.”
Agatha leaned in and planted a kiss on Eamon’s neck. “One of us has to be the humorous one, my love—and it surely is not you.”
Eamon laughed again, taking Agatha by the hand and kissing her delicately on the lips. He finished his meal, placing the bowl aside and standing from the bed.
“Where are you going?” Agatha inquired.
“Tae speak tae me father,” Eamon said, donning his tunic and pants. “I trust that his ashes were properly buried next tae me mother’s grave after the funeral pyre?”
“Yes. They were. He rests alongside your mother. Flowers already grow in the area around his grave.”
Eamon saw firsthand that this was the case after wandering out of Rose’s cottage and coming to the grave site where his mother and father rested. Lilies were in the early stages of growing around the grave, and Eamon smiled upon witnessing this as he got down on one knee.
“Hello, father,” Eamon said. “I trust ye are resting with mother.”
A breeze came through, licking at Eamon’s neck and offering him solace. He could not help but think that it was the spirit of his father, staying with him despite the fact that he was no longer tethered to his mortal coil.
Eamon looked to the front of the village, at the wide-open expanse of fields that led in and narrowed into a small road. “Gavina plans tae lure in Simon and burn the fields. We plan on making a choke point and forcing him tae take the one road in.” A sigh. “Oh, father. What madness has ensued. I only pray that this matter will come tae a swift end. And soon.”
The breeze picked up again, Eamon smiling as it wrapped around his body and felt like the equivalent of a warm embrace.
“Watch over us, father,” Eamon said. “Please help guide us tae the finish. I want this all tae be over. I want us tae finally live in the peace that ye and mother fought so hard over the course of our lives tae find. Guide us, father. Give us a steady hand. See that we are victorious.”
The wind blew again, soft, and serene and still offering Eamon comfort. He could not help but feel like it was his father reminding him that all would be well, that he would, indeed, guide Eamon and his family and the clan and the entirety of the village to safe haven.
Eamon stayed at Finlay’s grave for a few more minutes, saying nothing and sitting with the breeze. He then stood up, walked back to Rose’s cottage, kissed Agatha like he never had before, and fetched his sword to prepare for the final battle.
***
“I want Eamon Baird alive,” Simon said to his men, all of them gathered in a huddle as he paced back and forth. “The rest of the villagers will perish, but not before we take Eamon alive.”
One of the Hands of God squinted his confusion. “Are we not supposed to obliterate them all, Simon? Is that not what the Word of God has told us?”
“There is more at stake now,” Simon said, folding his hands behind his back. “It has come to my attention that Eamon Baird possesses certain important knowledge, knowledge that I must have before we can dispose of him.”
“And what is this knowledge?” another one of the men said.
Simon wagged his finger. “That I cannot tell you. I must proceed with this plan without dispensing that knowledge to you.”
The man inquiring about the story that Simon would not tell him shook his head. “This seems foolish, Simon,” he said. “Why can we not know of what these secrets are?”
“Because I said so.”
“But we take our orders from God. You said so yourself that even you are not one to question his methods.”
“I am not.”
“Then why are we changing the plan? Why do we take a hostage? Why keep Eamon Baird alive?”
Simon turned away, shrugging as he did so. “Because it is what I said we are going to do. And I will not have my methods be questioned.”
The man interrogating Simon stood up. “But this makes no sense, Simon. I must question you. I must ask why you are going against God’s instructions.”
Simon slowly turned around and leered at the man, somewhat incredulous that the individual would question his orders. “Sit down,” he said. “We will discuss this matter no further. We will ride to the Baird’s village after we annihilate the next clan not far from here. We will recruit more numbers. Once we have done so, we will set about destroying the Baird’s and taking Eamon into our custody. From there, I will speak to him, alone. No one will interfere. This is the plan, and I am ordering you to abide by it.”
The man gritted his teeth, his fingers curling into a fist. “No, Simon,” he said. “I cannot abide by this. You are going against the wishes of God, and that is something that we swore an oath to never do.”
Simon folded his hands in front of him, holding his head high and looking at the man with a pensive gaze. “I will not tell you again, my friend. This is the plan. This is what we are going to do. If you cannot abide by that—then we have a problem.”
The man took a step forward, reaching toward his sword and resting his palm on the handle. “Then I suppose,” he said, “that we have a problem…”
Simon smiled, his face reflective, still, of a man who did not feel fear. He took a step closer to the man, holding his hands out in a messianic pose. “So,” he said, “what does this mean? That you will challenge me? That you will strike me down and take up my mantle? That you will be the one who will lead the Hands of God?”
The man nodded. “If I have to,” he said, gripping onto the handle of his sword with a white-knuckled intensity. “You are speaking madness. You are going against the orders of God, and all of us, each and every man here, has stated that this will never ever be the case. You will not go down this road, Simon. And I will not let you.”
Simon responded by taking his sword and dropping it to the ground with a hard thud. “Well,” he said, “if that is what you must do…”
The man shook his head—and then he charged, taking out his sword and attempting to behead Simon with one quick stroke. But Simon, ever the quicker man, withdrew his dagger, ducked under the blow, and buried the dagger into the man’s belly. He slapped away the man’s sword, stabbed him in the back, and then dropped him to the ground where the final traces of life left the man’s body.
The rest of the Hands of God stared on with blank expressions, all of them unmoved by the events. Simon cleaned the dagger, pocketed it, and said: “Does anyone else want to question me?”
None of them said a word.
“Good,” Simon said. “Then the time has come to move out. We have another village to destroy.”
Chapter 32
Connor’s men began hauling wooden barrels up toward the front of the village.
They rolled them, all twelve of them, all the way up the dirt pathway that opened up into the fields in front of the village. They brought the barrels into the field, Connor ordering the men to space out and begin dousing every inch of the fields until it reached the edge of the forested area.
“Dinnae waste a single drop,” he commanded, hands on his hips. “I want every inch of this area covered.”
Connor’s men did as they were instructed, spreading a copper colored liquid across every inch of the fields. As they did so, Gavina and Eamon approached Connor and covered their mouths from the sting of the aroma the flammable liquid gave off.
“What is it?” Eamon asked.
Connor gestured to his men dispensing of the contents in the barrels. “It is the same fluid we use to light the tips of arrows.”
“Is there nae a way to cover the scent? Simon might grow suspicious if he shows up and picks up on the scent.”
“Lavender,” Gavina said. “That might dae the trick. I’m sure that Rose can aid us in that regard.”
Eamon glanced over his shoulder. He saw the entirety of the village—men, women, and children, watching on with apprehensive expression etched into their faces. He could see their confusion, their fear, their uncertainty practically pouring out of their eyes as they watched Connor and his men cover the fields with flammable liquid.
“They are troubled,” Gavina said. “They sense dire times ahead.”
Eamon sighed. “I will speak tae them,” he said. “I will assure them that all is well.”
“They hae been through a lot—Finlay’s passing, the relentless attacks. I think their spirits a wearied.”
“Perhaps it’s best if we hae them moved from this location while the fight ensues. I want tae try and cut back on as much of the causalities as humanly possible.”
Gavina gestured to the village. “We maist set up barricades all around the village tae create our choke point.”
“What dae ye plan on using?” Eamon inquired.
“Wooden stakes. Walls made of wood and stone. There is naw chance that Simon and his men will come in from the north or south. East is the only way he can come in, unless we block that entrance tae the village, then his only option is tae come in from the west.”
Eamon stroked his chin, pondering. “What if we light that ablaze?” he asked.
Gavina shook her head. “I fear that Simon will be suspicious of that.”
Eamon pondered some more. “What if we lit several fires around the village?”
“Why?” Gavina said with a squint.
“What if we made it appear that the village was already attacked? What if we staged things in a way that Simon will be completely befuddled as tae what is transpiring?”
Gavina smiled. “Make him think someone has already attacked us.”
“It will confuse him. At the same time, he will think that we are weakened. I would be inclined tae believe that this will lower his guard significantly.”
Gavina nodded. “Aye. It just may work.”
Eamon pointed to the areas where they planned on setting up the barricades. “I will coordinate with Connor and the rest of the men. But we maist send out a scout immediately tae track Simon’s location. We need tae establish proper timelines and move accordingly.”
Gavina jutted her chin to the fields, doused with the flammable liquid, Connor nodding his head to indicate that they were in the midst of finishing. “I will work with Rose tae cover the scent of the fields so that Simon does nae become suspicious. The hour is at hand. We shall soon resolve this.”
Eamon looked back in the direction of the villagers, all of them still watching with concerned expressions on their faces. “I will address the village right noo. I dinnae want them tae worry. Once that is finished, we shall establish a caravan and send them east out of harm’s way.”
“Aye. I agree.”
“But first,” Eamon said. “I maist speak with Agatha…”
Eamon headed to Rose’s cottage, Agatha waiting patiently in the kitchen for his return.
“Is all well, my love?” Agatha asked.
Eamon nodded. “We are nearly finished with the preparations. The hour of truth is upon us.”
“And what of me?”
“I wish fer ye tae leave with the caravan. It is nae safe fer ye here.”
Agatha shook her head. “No, my love. I wish to fight. I wish to play a part in all of this.”
Eamon sighed. “Agatha—”
Agatha took a step forward and rested her hands on Eamon. “No, me love,” she said. “I want to fight. I can take care of myself. You have taught me enough that I can handle myself. I am staying. I will not abandon you. This is my home now, too, and I want to stay here to defend it.”
Eamon leaned in, pressing his forehead against Agatha’s. “This will be a terrible ordeal. Much blood shall be shed, and I dinnae wish fer any of it tae be yers.”
“That is not something you can guarantee.”
“It is if I ask ye tae leave.”
“And I told you—I won’t. I can’t. I am staying here with you. I am going to fight alongside you. You are my protector, and I know that you are trying to do what is best for me. But my decision is final, as is Rose’s. We are staying here. We are going to fight for our land.”
They embraced, Eamon planting a kiss on Rose’s cheek. “If anything happens tae me, if anything goes wrong—ye hae tae run.”
“I know, my love,” Agatha said. “I know…”
After sharing his moment with Agatha, Eamon then ordered one of his men to gather the collective of the village in the center of town. Everyone congregated moments later, waiting patiently as Eamon stood at the head of the group and held up his hands.
“Everyone,” Eamon said. “Please, may I hae yer attention?”
All heads turned; all eyes focused on Eamon. They waited patiently; eager expressions laced with apprehensiveness. Men, women, and children were huddled together, the tense quality of all those in attendance more than apparent.
“This is nae the first time,” Eamon said, “that we hae found ourselves in this position. I cannae count how many times ye hae been told that this is the last fight, that peace is on the horizon and that we naw longer hae tae suffer. Me friens, me family…I value ye all. I ken what ye hae had tae endure, and it has been mair than I care tae admit. But tonight, this day, we will draw a line in the sand. We will see tae it that Simon and the Hands of God are wiped clean from the Highlands. A plan has been put into motion, one that will see us the victors. I will be sending all of ye away from the village before we engage in tonight’s battle. Ye will all ride in a caravan headed east, and ye will remain there until we hae finished this campaign. This is a lot tae ask. I ken of that. But mark me words—this will be the last time we fight fer our peace. This will be the battle tae end all battles. I cannae promise that all of us will make it out alive, but rest assured, after this day, we will fight naw mair…”
Eamon stepped away from the group and began coordinating with the Bairdsmen. They organized a small caravan and designated those who were unable to fight to ride out of the village. Horses were gathered, all of the men, women, and children who were not capable of fighting placed in the caravan before it was ordered out. They headed east, Gavina and Eamon watching them ride away into the horizon. Once they disappeared from sight, Eamon turned to Gavina and said: “Come. Let us finish this.”
Coordinating with Connor and the rest of the fighters, several fires were set throughout the village. The town was made up to look like it had suffered a recent attack, with small damage being made to the aesthetic to further enhance the appearance.
Connor, along with his men, set up the barricades at the access points leading in from the rear and sides of the village to help create the choke point. Sunset had arrived by the time they had finished, and once all was done, Gavina, Eamon, Connor, and the rest of the fighters gathered on the rooftop of what was once Finlay’s home to survey all that they had made.<
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Connor nodded. “I think we accomplished what we set out tae make,” he said. “It looks as if the village was attacked.”
“It looks good,” Gavina said. “If I did nae ken any better, I would think that we had suffered an attack.”
Eamon turned his head to the heavens. “Night falls soon,” he said. “We need tae arrange our fighters around the village and send out a scout to pinpoint Simon’s location.”
Connor rested a hand on Eamon’s shoulder. “I will send one of me men. I hae one of the fastest riders in all of the Highlands. He will return with haste once he locates Simon.”
“Good,” Eamon said. “Until that time, we shall arrange our swordsmen and place them in the proper locations. We need archers placed on all of the rooftops, as well.”