by Barbara Bard
Agatha’s mother broke the embrace. “Go now,” she said. “Marry this man. Be happy.”
Agatha kissed her mother on the cheek before taking Eamon by the hand. He then led her up to the alter, Finlay Baird waiting there with a bible in his hand and nodding his approval as the two stood there hand in hand.
“Come noo,” Finlay said. “All of us gather tae witness these two join together.”
Finlay opened his bible, Agatha staring into the eyes of Eamon and telling him that she loved him before she slowly awoke from her slumber.
Agatha looked fondly into Eamon’s eyes as she sat on the roof of Finlay’s house. “had a dream,” she said.
Eamon nodded, still smiling as he looked into the face of the woman he loved. “I did as well,” he said, gently planting a kiss on Agatha’s mouth before looking longingly into her eyes for several moments.
“Eamon,” Gavina said, slowly creeping toward the edge of the rooftop.
Eamon felt his heart drop upon hearing Gavina call his name. He knew what the tone reflected. He did not even need to look in the direction of the fields to know what she was about to say. Breaking his embrace from Agatha, he slowly slipped onto his belly and said: “Everyone stay low…”
Connor and Agatha and Gavina followed Eamon’s command. Everyone slid onto their bellies and remained flat as Gavina and Eamon slowly peeked over the parapet that looked out onto the fields. For a moment, Eamon did not see anything. He squinted, doing his best to try and make out whatever it was that Gavina had spotted.
“What dae ye see?” Eamon asked Gavina.
Gavina shook her head. “I see nae a thing,” she said. “But I can sense them…I sense that Simon is here.”
Connor, backing up slowly, looked to his right to the cottage resting just fifty yards away. Perched on top of the cottage were two archers, arrows in hand and dipped in flammable liquid that they were prepared to light at a moment’s notice. He held up his hand, the archers waiting for him to give the order.
Gavina and Eamon, looking out just beyond the edge of the village, held their breath in anticipation.
“I still see nae a thing,” Gavina said.
They waited, interminable silence holding sway as they scanned from left-to-right. A couple of minutes passed before the silence was broken by a twig snapping off in the distance…and then another…and then another. After a few moments, the snapping of twigs and leaves increased, and Gavina’s eyes went wide as she jutted her chin toward the edge of the fields and said: “He is here…Simon and his men hae arrived…”
Eamon looked out beyond the edge of the village. After a moment, a single rider came into view. And then another. And then another. After a few moments, the entire collective of the Hands of God gathered at the edge of the village and waited, lined up in a single file and eagerly awaiting their orders.
Eamon drew a breath. “Here we gae,” he said as the Hands of God slowly began to move in their direction.
Chapter 36
Eamon turned to Gavina as the Hands of God began their approach. “Stay low,” he whispered. “Let them get toward the center of the fields afore we give the order…”
Gavina nodded, relaying the instructions to Connor who nodded his head in reply. Everyone gathered on the rooftop held a tight grip on their weapons, Eamon reaching out and looking Agatha in the eye as he squeezed her head and winked at her with a smile to accompany it.
The Hands of God, moving side by side through the fields, approached with an apprehensive and slow stride. Simon, leading the men at the head of the group, craned his neck and began scanning the village. He saw the small fires, the bits and pieces of destruction peppered throughout. He held up his hand, ordering his men to stop as he breathed in the air and smelled the traces of lavender.
George, riding alongside Simon, pointed to the frayed state of the Baird’s village. “Simon,” he said. “What happened here?”
Simon took a moment to reply, noting the bits of damage that had been done, and the small groupings of fires scattered throughout the village. “It appears,” he said, “that someone has already paid the Baird’s a visit.”
George nodded. “It looks as though a fight occurred here.”
“It appears that way.”
“I do not see anyone.”
Simon shook his head. “Me either. And it is quiet. Almost too quiet…”
The Hands of God remained stationary, Simon debating his next move. On the rooftop, Eamon peeked over the parapet and saw Simon scanning the area, keeping himself as low as possible to not flag themselves down.
Simon, turning to George, said: “Go ahead of us. Scout the village. Report back what you find.”
George bucked his horse and nodded, riding ahead of the group and toward the center of the village. As he did so, Gavina turned to Eamon and said: “Dae we give the order?”
Eamon shook his head. “Nae yet. But make sure one of the archers tracks him.”
Gavina rolled over and whispered the order to Connor, Connor then giving a few hand signals to the men on the roof next to them. One of the archers nodded in reply, keeping himself low and aiming his bow in George’s direction and tracking him the entire way.
George rode into the village, looking from left to right, noting the fire and bits of damage as he came to settle and looked around. He spotted nothing, no one, convinced that there was not a soul left in the village. After a few minutes, he did an about-face and returned to the Hands of God, rushing up to Simon and shaking his head.
“Not a soul is around,” George said. “It appears they have left.”
Simon laughed, waving his hand through the air. “No,” he said. “I do not think it is that simple.”
“We missed them, Simon.”
“We missed no one. This does not feel right. It does not feel right at all.”
Simon sniffed the air, the traces of lavender invading his nostrils and causing an alarm to go off in his head.
“What is it, Simon?” George inquired.
Simon said nothing as he dismounted his horse. He dropped to the ground, placing his hands on the earth and running them across it.
On the rooftop, Eamon perked up as he watched Simon survey the ground. He shook his head and turned to Gavina. “He grows suspicious,” he said. “I think he kens.”
Gavina jutted her jaw. “Dae we give the order.”
Eamon held up his hand. “Wait a moment. Just wait…”
They held their position as Simon pressed his hands into the earth. He then held up his hands, examining them and finding them slickened with a watery-looking substance. He sniffed his hands, a crooked smile stretching across his face as he closed his eyes and began to laugh.
“Simon,” George said. “What is it?”
Simon showcased his hands to George. “Do you smell that?”
George tilted his head and sniffed the air like a dog. “Lavender,” he said. “Lots of it.”
“And do you see any lavender growing in these fields?”
George shook his head as Simon wiped his hands clean on his tunic.
“Something is out of place here,” Simon said as he mounted his horse. “I feel that we have walked into a ruse.”
George pointed to the village. “Should we proceed forward? Ransack the village?”
Simon took a moment to think, his hand resting on the grip of his sword. “I think,” he said, “that the Baird’s are still here.”
On the rooftop, Eamon shook his head. He knew that Simon was getting wise to their ruse, and the moment to strike was now upon them. He turned to Connor and whispered: “We give the order. Tell the men that the time has come.”
Connor nodded. He then turned over and directed his gaze to the archers on the opposite rooftop. He held up two fingers and kept them there, prepared and ready to give the order.
“Eamon Baird!” Simon shouted from atop his horse. “I know that you are here! Come out now, otherwise I will obliterate all of you!”
; Silence held sway, Eamon pursing his lips and making sure that no noise evacuated from his mouth.
Simon, adjusting his weight on his horse, shook his head and took out his sword. “You have much to answer for,” he said. “You have given me information that I must sort through. This is the last time I will ask—come out now, otherwise I will behead every single member of your family and put their heads on display for all of the Highlands to see.”
Eamon gritted his teeth. He knew there was no reason to keep stalling. He drew a breath, turned to Connor, and nodded. Seconds later, he cleared his throat, and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Simon!”
All of the Hands of God directed their gaze toward the source of the noise, withdrawing their weapons and gearing up to fight.
As Simon once again flashed his crooked smile, Eamon then shouted out: “Burn in hell, ye bastard!”
Connor gave the order to the archers. They then ignited the tips of their arrows, stood up, aimed them in the direction of the fields, and let their arrows fly. The flaming arrows soared through the sky, bright flashes zipping through the air and descending on the fields. Eamon, Gavina, Connor, and Agatha watched as the arrows arched and made their way to the center of the fields.
Simon, watching the arrows soar through the sky, for a second thought that he had an advantage, that Eamon and his men were limited in their numbers with only two archers at their disposal. He thought that they were not the most capable of archers, the arrows certainly about to miss their mark as they prepared to land ten feet shy of their mark—but once he recalled the scent of lavender, and the slick liquid that had coated his hands moments earlier, his eyes went wide and the Baird’s ruse became all too apparent.
“Run!” Simon shouted to his men as the arrows landed and ignited the fields in a fiery blaze.
The flammable substance that had coated the fields ignited and spread like a sea of fire, rolling toward the Hands of God like some kind of Holy plague sent from the heavens. As the sea of fire approached the Hands of God, several of them, including Simon and George, broke to the left and began to flee toward the village.
The fire, moving fast and with a furious and animal-like growl, consumed a majority of the Hands of God. They were completely ignited, their clothing, horses, and weapons consumed by the fire and burning with a bright and vibrant display.
“Now!” Eamon shouted.
From their respective hiding positions, all of the fighters in the Baird’s village came out of concealment and began the attack. The archers were first, launching their arrows and taking out several of the Hands of God ablaze in the fields.
Simon, George, and ten of the Hands of God who had managed to steer clear of the fire, dodged the incoming flames at the last moment and entered the village. They were greeted by four archers and two swordsmen. The archers managed to take down two of Simon’s men—but the rest were cut down by Simon and George with a series of scything blows that killed them immediately.
On the rooftop, Eamon turned to Connor and slapped him on the back. “Gae! Noo! Let us engage them on the ground!”
Gavina, squeezing Eamon’s arm, said: “I will wait here with Agatha. I will command the men on the front lines.”
Eamon nodded as he descended the ladder with Connor. They dropped to the ground and were immediately greeted by two of Simon’s men. The men dismounted their horses, swinging their swords around as they squared off and prepared to fight.
“All right, ye animals,” Connor said, holding up his weapon and ready to do what needed to be done. “Let’s see what yer made of.”
The two members of the Hands of God engaged. Connor, coming in from the right, parried and pushed his man back. Eamon, engaging from the left, ducked under and incoming blow and managed to counterattack with a hard swipe that took out the legs of the man he was fighting. The man fell to the ground, Eamon burying his sword in the man’s sternum before standing up and assisting Connor in engaging the other man.
“Come on, ye devil!” Connor taunted the man. “Ye can fight better than that!”
The member of the Hands of God hollered out, rushing toward Connor and Eamon with his sword held his above his head. Working together, Eamon and Connor took the man down, both of them burying their steel into his belly. The man keeled over, Connor then raising his foot, planting it in the man’s chest, and kicking him onto the ground.
Simon, engaging several of the Bairdsmen on the opposite side of the village with George and his eight men accompanying him, struck down two of them from on top of his horse. Gavina, seeing that Simon had the advantage from fighting on top of his steed, turned to the opposite rooftop and pointed to one of the archers.
“You!” Gavina shouted. “Take down his steed!”
The archer nodded, aiming his bow in Simon’s direction and launching an arrow through the sky. The arrow flew and landed in the neck of Simon’s animal, killing it instantly and knocking Simon clear to the ground.
Simon rebounded quickly, standing up and going into a defensive stance as two Bairdsmen rushed toward him. Simon fought them both with quick serpentine strides. The Bairdsmen fighting him were competent, but they only lasted a few moments before Simon managed to strike them both down.
Simon took a quick glance at his fallen horse, and then he directed his gaze toward the rooftops where the arrows had come from. Looking at George, he said: “Order the archers to fire in that direction! Now!”
George gave the order, and two members of the Hands of God produced their bows and began launching arrow after arrow in Gavina and Agatha’s direction.
“Agatha!” Gavina shouted as the incoming arrows barreled toward them. “Get down!”
Agatha and Gavina ducked down as low as possible, the arrows flying over their heads and missing them by mere inches. The archers on the other roof, however, were not as lucky, both men being struck down quickly as a series of arrows buried themselves in their sternum and killed them where they stood.
“Come!” Gavina said, grabbing Agatha by the arm. “We maist take this fight tae the ground!”
Agatha, fear coursing through her veins, nodded as she followed after Gavina and descended the ladder leading down. They dropped to ground level, Agatha shaking as she raised her weapon and took a quick glance around the village—the Hands of God were engaging each of the Bairdsmen. Not a man around was not in the fight. As Gavina rushed toward the center of the action, Agatha followed after her and knew that she was in for possibly the greatest fight of her life.
Chapter 37
Gavina raised her sword as a member of the Hands of God rushed toward her. He struck first, Gavina parrying the blow and throwing a right hook punch into his jaw. The man stumbled backward, Agatha rushing up behind him and burying her sword into his spine. Agatha, mouth agape as she killed someone for the first time, pulled the sword out and stood back.
Gavina grabbed Agatha by the arm. “Are ye alright?”
Agatha, in shock, nodded repeatedly. “Yes. Yes, I am alright.”
Gavina smiled. “Ye did well. Noo come. We still hae much tae dae.”
They rushed away and headed toward a group of Bairdsmen engaging the last seven members of the Hands of God still left standing.
Near the tavern, Simon and George were back to back. Four Bairdsmen circled them, teeth gritted and eyes flaring as they came after them one at a time. Simon, the ever-vicious force of nature that he was, took down man after man. He was unstoppable, the Bairdsmen no match for his ferocity. As soon as all the men were dispensed of, he turned to George and said: “Find Eamon Baird. Now.”
George nodded and fled, searching feverishly around for signs of Eamon Baird. He struck down another one of the Bairdsmen on his way, and after a few moments of searching—he found Eamon fighting alongside Connor, the two of them engaging one of the Hands of God and striking him down, bringing down the numbers of the rogue knights to six in total.
“Eamon Baird!” George hollered out as he pointed his weapon in Eamon’s
direction. “You are coming with me.”
Eamon squeezed Connor on the arm. “Gae,” he said. “I will handle this.”
“Are ye sure?” Connor said.
Eamon nodded. “Aye. Dispose of the rest of the Hands of God. Iwill find Simon and kill him. End this once and fer all.”
Connor rushed away after patting Eamon on the back. Eamon, raising his sword in a defensive posture, jutted his chin in George’s direction.
“You are coming with me,” George repeated. “Simon has some questions for you…”
Eamon shook his head, his eyes ablaze and tunic peppered with blood. “Enough talk,” he said. “Just dae what ye need tae dae.”