by Barbara Bard
“And the fields? Has the fire been put out?”
“They are still in the midst of putting them out. The fire ravaged maist of the area. It came close tae the village, but we managed tae stave it off afore it did any real damage.”
Gavina sighed, resting her head back and feeling herself on the verge of passing out. “How long?” she asked.
“How long until what?” Rose said.
“Until all is rebuilt? We hae lost significant supplies, resources. We maist—”
Agatha pressed her hand against Gavina’s forehead. “Rest, now. You are trying to burden yourself with too much. You must rest.”
Gavina shook her head. “But there is so much to be done.”
“And it will be done in due time,” Connor said. “But the hard part is over. We hae disposed of the Hands of God.”
“Nae yet,” Gavina said. “It is finished only upon Eamon’s return.”
Agatha shuddered, holding her breath and looking away. Gavina sensed her turmoil and squeezed her hand. “Dinnae fret, Agatha,” she said. “He will return. I promise ye.”
Agatha nodded. “I know. I just worry so about him.”
“Simon is defeated. He is at his wit’s end. There is nae a thing left fer him.”
Agatha said nothing, glancing out the window and pondering where Eamon was and how close he was to returning to her arms.
***
Eamon stared at Simon for a long moment. The two said nothing, merely looking at each other as the proverbial moment of combat arrived.
Simon breathed in the air. Eamon couldn’t help but note that the man looked relaxed, almost accepting of his fate. “So,” Simon said, “this is where it all ends. This is where my path in life has led me.”
Eamon shook his head. “Dinnae dae this, Simon. It is over. All of yer men are dead.”
Simon nodded. “I know. And I feel a fool for having led them down the path that I did. But it does not matter anymore. I shall fight until I have not a breath left in my body.”
“Surrender, Simon. Just surrender.”
Simon shook his head. “It is over for me, Highlander. My crusade was pointless. I am nothing more than a murderer.”
“Then dinnae dae this. Give up the fight. Let us end this, once and fer all.”
Simon took a beat. “Is it true?” he said. “What you said about my wife and child—is it true?”
Eamon nodded. “Aye. It is. I was nae lying tae ye.”
Simon smiled. “I will never see them again. They are too far gone.”
“I cannae say if that’s true.”
“I can.” Simon raised his sword. “And I do not want to live knowing that they are with another man.”
Eamon raised his own sword. “Are ye sure ye want tae dae this?”
Simon nodded. “Come, Highlander. Show me what you are made of…”
Eamon shook his head. “So be it,” he said as he charged forward and engaged Simon.
The two began fighting, Simon taking the first strike and landing it straight on Eamon’s blade. Their swords collided, the two men exchanging several blows and feeling themselves past the point of exhaustion.
They fought for several turns, Simon at one point gaining the upper hand and nearly taking off Eamon’s head with a blow. Eamon ducked under, the sword colliding with the tree and becoming stuck. Seeing his opportunity to finally end the fight, Eamon stood, spun around, raised his sword, and buried it deep into Simon’s back.
Simon’s face went slack. His eyes went wide. He crumbled to the ground as Eamon stood over him and an ashy shade of white came into his face.
Blood pooled around Simon. He blinked his eyes repeatedly as he gasped for air. Eamon dropped his sword and perched down onto one knee beside Simon, grateful for the fight to be over as the life began to retreat from Simon’s body.
“I…” Simon said. “I am scared…I am scared I will go to hell…” He reached out his hand, pleading with his eyes for Eamon to hold it.
Eamon hesitated for a moment—but then he took Simon’s hand into his own and squeezed it reassuringly.
With a complacent look in his eyes, Simon turned his head away and looked toward the heaven, a bright spot of light shining down on him as he slowly closed his eyes, took his final breath, and drifted off into the unknown.
Eamon waited until Simon had fully passed before he released his grip. He sighed, sitting on his rear and shaking his head, grateful for the fight to be finished and wanting nothing more than Agatha, a drink of water, and some rest.
“It is over,” he said. “It is finally over…”
Epilogue
“Look!” one of the villagers shouted as he pointed out toward the burnt and crispy fields. “It is Eamon! He has returned!”
Agatha heard the announcement from inside Rose’s house and flocked outside with haste. She was smiling as she spotted Eamon approach from the distance and ran out into the fields to join him.
Eamon saw his love and smiled wide, dismounting his horse and running the last few feet toward her. He scooped Agatha up into his arms, placing a kiss on her and spinning her around as both of them laughed joyously.
“You are alright!” Agatha said. “My love, you came back to me!”
Eamon nodded, running his fingers through his love’s hair. “I am safe, me love,” he assured her. “I am safe.”
“Is it over?” she asked. “Has the madness ended?”
Eamon nodded. “It is over, me love. It is finally over.”
The two kissed passionately and held onto the embrace for a few moments. As soon as they settled, Agatha guided Eamon by the hand back to Rose’s cottage and into the room where Gavina was resting.
“Nephew,” Gavina said. “I relish yer return.”
Eamon smiled. “As dae I…”
“Is it over? Has Simon been disposed of?”
Eamon nodded. “Aye, Gavina. He is with God noo. The rest of his men hae been taken care of.”
A single tear slid down Gavina’s cheek. “Thank God,” she said, feeling a wave of euphoria overcome her. “Thank God in the heavens…”
Everyone in the room remained silent for a moment. Eamon held Agatha close. Connor gave a sideways hug to Rose. All of them said nothing as they basked in the glory of victory for several minutes, happy to be alive and happy to feel a surge of peace overcome the village.
“There is much tae be done, I imagine,” Eamon said.
Connor nodded. “Aye. Much tae be done.”
“But we maist tend tae our dead first,” Gavina said. “We maist hold a proper funeral and honor those who fought so bravely.”
Eamon nodded. “Agreed. We should dae it tonight. A maist festive occasion in their honor. One that nae only celebrates our victory but their lives as well…”
That evening, the entire collective of the village was gathered near the tavern. The bodies of the dead had been wrapped and placed on several mounds of wood doused with flammable liquid. All were in attendance, even Gavina, though she required Rose’s assistance to stand as Eamon addressed the group.
“All of ye here,” Eamon said, “hae fought bravely. Gallantly. Without concern fer yerselves.” He gestured to the bodies of the dead. “These men here gae the ultimate sacrifice. They fought without question fer their own safety. They fought tae preserve this village and establish a peace that we shall, from here forth, live in until our days are naw mair.”
All those around began to hold their loved ones close, kissing and hugging them and appreciating the fact that they were all still alive.
Eamon looked around for Agatha. After finding her, he pulled her in close for an embrace, happy to have the love of his life by his side.
He then looked around at the villagers. He knew every face there, every man, woman, and child. He had a proud history with each of them, and now, filling his father’s shoes as the man in charge of the clan, he was swelling with pride as he looked at his clan and saw that they were still vigilant, still proud, st
ill alive.
“All of ye here,” Eamon said, “hae earned yer peace. Ye hae fought and struggled longer than anyone should hae tae be here today. I relish being yer frien, yer leader. But just because I am the head of this clan does nae mean that we all dinnae hae an equal stake, an equal role in being where we are today.” He motioned to the bodies once more. “Remember these men. Remember the sacrifices that they made. It is only because their blood has been shed that we hae finally found peace. Remember them well. Never forget the sacrifice that they made.”
Eamon then nodded to Connor, holding a lit torch as he approached the bodies. He lit the piles of wood, the bodies ignited and blazing as the smoke curled toward the sky. All of those around watched as the bodies burned. Tears were shed. Hugs were exchanged. Silent prayers were offered up to God.
After the bodies were burned, the villagers gathered in the tavern to share a ceremonial drink. Eamon offered up a simple toast, and the villagers set about celebrating their victory and the lives of those that were lost as a fiddler played a cheerful tune in the corner.
Seated at one of the tables was Gavina and Eamon, smiling and feeling themselves on the cusp of passing out from all they had endured.
“Quite a tale tae be told,” Gavina said.
Eamon nodded. “Aye. Quite.”
“I hope this peace will last.”
“It shall. I feel it in me bones.”
Gavina smiled. “Father would be proud of ye. Ye hae turned into the man he always ken that ye would be.”
Eamon raised his mug. “Tae father,” he said. “Tae Finlay Baird.”
“And tae Isla Baird,” Gavina said. “The fiercest warriors in all of the Highlands.”
They clinked their glasses and drank, sitting comfortably in their seats as the celebration played out.
Not long after, Eamon wandered over to Finlay’s cottage, now his cottage, and ascended the ladder that led up to the roof. He sighed, stretching, and feeling that he would sleep that night better than he ever had before.
Eamon looked out at the fields, the charred and black fields that had burned as a result from their altercation with the Hands of God. He knew that they would eventually grow back, that the village would prosper more than it did before.
Agatha then ascended the ladder, Eamon turning and smiling at her proudly as she cozied up alongside him. “Hello, my love,” she said.
“Hello, me love,” he said as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
Agatha wrapped her arms around Eamon’s waist, the two of them saying not a word as he looked out at the blackened fields.
“Are you alright?” Agatha said.
Eamon nodded. “Aye. I am well. Just tired.”
“How tired?” she asked, a playful hint in her tone suggesting more intimate activities for them to engage in later on.
Eamon laughed. “Well,” he said, “perhaps nae too tired.”
“Good,” Agatha said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Because we still have more celebrating to do.”
“That we do.”
They stood there for a long moment, gazing out into the fields as the night sky started to become alive with the twinkling of stars. They felt relieved, at peace, happy to be holding each other in the arms and knowing that it would last forever. With nothing more to be said, Eamon turned Agatha around, looked her deep into the eyes and said: “I love ye, Agatha. Mair than ye will ever ken…”
Agatha nodded, a single tear of joy streaming down her cheek. “And I love you, Eamon Baird. More than you will ever know.”
They kissed, holding onto the moment for as long as possible, the moon shining bright overhead as the sounds of celebration in the tavern echoed throughout the village. All those in attendance were happy. All of those joined in celebration were finally, and deservedly, at peace.
***
Eamon raised his mug to the villagers, all of them seated around at a circular table in the center of the village. It had been over three weeks since the ordeal had occurred, the village still in the midst of repairs and recouping from the attack from the dreaded Simon and his Hands of God. He had married Agatha. Connor was now courting Rose. Everyone was happy and healthy.
Seated beside Eamon at the table was his new bride Agatha, swelling with pride as she looked at her husband, raised her mug as well.
“I want tae toast all of ye,” Eamon said, “fer being here with us today. I cannae tell ye how proud I am tae be with ye all, and at how happy I am tae finally find the peace that we have strived fer so long tae achieve. Congratulations tae ye all, and cheers.”
The villagers smiled. Cheered. Hollered. Applauded at Eamon’s words. Everything in the village, from the conditions of the weather to the expressions on the faces of those in attendance, were nothing short of joyous and ecstatic. Everyone felt free. Everyone felt, finally, at peace.
As he sat back down in his seat, Agatha turned to Eamon and whispered in his ear: “I love you, Eamon Baird.”
Eamon beamed proudly, planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek before saying: “I love ye, too…Agatha Baird.”
They exchanged a quick peck, and moments later Gavina, still healing from her wounds, stood up and raised her glass. “I would like tae make a toast as well,” she said.
Everyone turned their heads and looked at Gavina curiously.
Gavina, her gaze now focused on Agatha, said: “I would like tae formally welcome the newest member of our family: Agatha. I cannae think of a better individual tae join us at this table. She is a strong capable woman, a fearless warrior…and I am mair than proud tae call her a Baird. So please, all of ye, raise yer glasses high, and take pleasure in this moment that we add a new addition tae our family.”
Collective cheers resounded throughout the village, everyone in attendance more than thrilled and joyful to welcome Agatha as they toasted and drank.
Agatha reached out her hand and squeezed Gavina on the arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Gavina. For everything.”
Gavina winked. “Thank you…fer taking Eamon off of all of our hands.”
Laughs were exchanged. Drinks were raised. Toasts were made.
“Come noo!” Gavina said. “Let us celebrate and be merry!”
A violinist then sauntered up to the table and began playing a cheerful medley that had all of the crowd clapping their hands in sync to the music.
As the music played, Agatha leaned in and tapped Eamon on the shoulder. “I must tell you something,” she said.
Eamon perked up as he waited to hear the rest. Agatha responding by taking his hand and resting it on her belly, Eamon knowing without hearing the words that she was with child.
“Really?” he asked, tears welling in his eyes.
Agatha nodded, planting a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Very much so,” she said. “You are going to be a father, Eamon Baird. And you will be the best father in all of the Highlands.”
Elated, Eamon embraced her and kissed her passionately, happier than he had ever been before in his life.
As the village drank, celebrated, and enjoyed one another’s company, the sun shone brightly overhead over the entire scene, the clouds in the bright blue sky billowing with a thick property that reflected the immense amount of pride and love that had accumulated throughout the village, one that had finally found peace and prosperity, one that celebrated that fact all through the night as not a drop of wine was split and not a sour face was found in attendance. They were happy. They were content.
They were all finally free.
The End
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Highland Trails of Love – A Preview
Prologue
They had been traveling for a while through these dark woods, as they were going to meet Lord Flynn, the man who Rosemary was betrothed to.
&nb
sp; George had suggested that they find a place to lay their head for the night as it was getting too dark to keep traveling. Sarah and Rosemary were talking about Rosemary’s betrothal when another wagon pulled up. Sarah immediately felt that something wasn’t right.
The wagon was looking strange and suspicious, with men being held in cages and the men that guarded the wagon were cruel to them. Sarah tried to carry on the conversation, but Rosemary was already distracted. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the wagon.