by Barbara Bard
The door opened, and a raven-haired man in his mid-20s entered. His armor was shined to a slick polish, resting on top of a blue tunic. His facial features were sharp and handsome, and he sported an optimistic look that Lord Torstein had seen in himself so many years ago.
“You called on me, my lord?” the man said.
Lord Torstein turned and smiled. “Christian,” he said. “Please. Come in.”
Christian closed the door and stood at attention. “How can I be of assistance, Lord Torstein?”
“Ever dutiful you are, Christian. I fear that you perform your duties to a degree that is much more than I deserved.”
Christian shook his head. “I serve you, my lord. You and the crown.”
Lord Torstein motioned to a wooden chair near. “Please. Sit.”
Christian sat; his eyes wide with anticipation. Lord Torstein couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s tenacity.
Lord Torstein then gestured to a flagon of wine on the table. “Would you care for a drink?”
Christian shook his head. “I do not partake, my lord. I feel it dulls the senses.”
“Give it time, my good man. I said the same thing at your age.” He folded his hands in front of him. “In fact, there is much about you that I see in myself.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“You are very much as I was at your age—hopeful, optimistic, striving to do the right thing.”
“I try my best, my lord.”
“And you do it well…” Lord Torstein drew a breath. “Tell me—what is your opinion of this campaign that Sir Jessup and I have embarked on for several years now?”
Christian shrugged and worried that this was a test. “I have only been here several months, my lord. I am merely following orders.”
Lord Torstein waved his hand like he was brushing the issue aside. “That is not what I meant. I speak to your personal convictions. I inquire as to your honest opinion of this campaign to rid these lands of the Highlanders.”
Christian shifted his weight, a tad bit nervous that his reply would elicit a dire response. “As I said, I follow the orders of the crown. Though…”
Lord Torstein flexed his brow—Continue.
“I worry,” Christian continued, “that…destroying the Highlanders as Sir Jessup has commanded we do, is a bit…savage.”
A nod from Lord Torstein. “I believe the same,” he said. “I have never agreed with the king’s orders to wipe out the natives of this land.”
“It just does not seem right to me. If the king wishes to rule the land, I have no quarrel. But I do not relish the idea of wiping out a civilization in order to accomplish that. I do not think that is a proper method to establish a lasting peace. Violence merely breeds more violence.”
Lord Torstein took a beat. “I want to tell you something, and your response to what I will reveal will determine everything that follows. Do you understand?”
Christian swallowed his fears. “I understand…”
Lord Torstein faced the window once more and looked down into the courtyard. “You know of the clan we seek, yes?”
A nod. “The Baird clan, my lord.”
“And we have struggled for quite some time to find their location, yes?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Lord Torstein turned around. “What if I told you that we have not been able to locate them because I have made it my intention that their location remains a secret?”
The color drained from Christian’s chiseled and handsome face. “I…I do not understand.”
Lord Torstein lowered his voice. “Many years ago,” he said, “I formed a pact with the Baird clan to offer them protection from the crown so they could live in peace. I, like you, grew troubled at the king’s methods of dealing with the Highlanders, so I set about creating a secret truce to help the Highlanders establish a village that they could dwell in. Peacefully.
“However, I fear that Sir Jessup grows suspicious of this, and I feel the time has come to send word to the Bairds in order to stay a step ahead of whatever Sir Jessup’s intentions may be.”
Christian was silent for a long moment as he digested the information. “This information is tantamount to treason, my lord.”
Lord Torstein nodded. “Indeed, it is. Which is why I am curious as to your response in the matter, to everything that I have told you.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous at what my answer will elicit.”
“I have no doubt.” Lord Torstein approached Christian and got down on one knee.
“But I would not have told you this if I didn’t think I trusted you. I know you, Christian. I’ve seen how you are around the others. You’re not like them. You’re kind. Caring. You possess an empathy that most of our fellow countrymen lack, and that is why I am telling you all of this.”
Christian hung his head. He knew he wasn’t like the other knights. He was kind. He was caring. He had stopped so many men from needlessly killing other Highlanders that he had earned a reputation as being unreliable, a knight serving in the back of the lines who fetched more food and water than he did yield his sword, though he was a skillful swordsman.
“I do not relish war, my lord,” he said, his gaze meeting Torstein’s. “I strive for peace. I only take up arms against those who wish to do me harm.”
“And you do not believe,” Lord Torstein said, “that the Highlanders wish this upon you?”
Christian shook his head. “Not as Sir Jessup would lead me to believe, my lord.”
“Then what say you to the prospect of meeting with the Bairds to inform them that Sir Jessup intends to mount his offense within the coming days?”
Christian took a pause. “It is quite a responsibility, my lord. I do not know if I am the man qualified for the task.”
“But you are. You see things as I do. We seem to be the only men here who strive for peace, and the time has come to help preserve the peace I have established with the Bairds. As I said—time is running short.”
“How so, my lord?” Christian asked as Lord Torstein moved back to the window.
Lord Torstein sighed. “Sir Jessup, as I stated before, has grown weary with my lack of progress in finding the Baird clan. Again, this has been a deliberate move on my end. But by misdirection with this campaign has caused him to turn a curious eye in my direction. That coupled with pressures from the king have led Sir Jessup to set about an assault through the Highlands.”
He closed his eyes in terror. “One in which he plans on burning and ravaging every Highlander village until he finds the Bairds and disposes of them for good.”
Christian felt as if the air had been snatched out of his lungs. “A ghastly proposition that is, my lord.”
“Which is why we must find and warn the Bairds before it happens. They need to know that the time has come for them to make a stand. The time has come for them to once again defend their peace.” He turned to Christian.
“I need you to go to them. I will give you their location in the Highlands. It is two days ride from here. Your presence will not be missed because of how you have been shunned by Sir Jessup. Between that and your loyalty and strive for peace, I believe that this makes you the most suitable candidate for the job. Only if you agree to the task, of course.”
It took a long moment for Christian to answer. The weight of the responsibility weighed heavy on his heart. He did want to do good. He did want to bring a lasting peace to this land, and the proposition that Lord Torstein had presented to him felt like the first step that led in that direction.
He stood, nodding to Lord Torstein before replying: “I will do it. I will undertake this task.”
Lord Torstein smiled and rested a palm on the young knight’s shoulder. “I knew you were the one to do this, Christian. You will be a great asset in the coming days.”
He gestured to a table with a map. “I will show you the location of where the Bairds reside. You will leave tonight at nightfall.”
He produced a piece of rolled up parchment and placed it in Christian’s hands.
“This is the message you will give them. Be sure to tell them upon your arrival that you are a representative of Lord Torstein.” He produced a blue flower and placed it in Christian’s tunic. “This is my sign. This will tell them that you are not a threat when they see you.”
Christian drew an anticipatory breath. “I will not let you down, my lord.”
Lord Torstein smiled. “I know, my dear boy…I know.”
Chapter 3
Two days after Christian had left for the Bairds’ village, Gavina was with her sister Isla inside of Isla and Finlay’s cottage. A stew was in the process of being made as Finlay played with his two children Eamon and Rose near the post where their horses were tethered to.
Gavina found herself lost in thought as she stared out at Finlay, remembering and seeing faint glimpses of what it once felt like to be Eamon and Rose’s age. It had seemed so long ago yet not so long all at the same time.
“Gavina,” Isla said, tucking a loose strand of her silver-tinged hair behind her ear. “Ye need tae stir the stew.”
Gavina shook herself out of her haze and focused her attention on the pot over the fire in front of her.
“Sorry,” she replied as she began stirring.
“Are ye alright?”
“I am fine. I am just tired, sister.”
“Ye hae been riding and training for several days now.”
Gavina huffed. “Finlay does not seem tae think it is fer the best.”
“What dae ye mean?”
Gavina shrugged. “He thinks I am arrogant. Those were his exact words.”
Isla said nothing.
“Dae ye nae think it is true?” Gavina asked.
Isla faced her sister. “I ken that ye are me sister,” she said. “And our family does have a penchant for being headstrong.”
“So ye are saying that it is true?”
“I am saying that ye are still young, that ye still hae much tae learn. But I was the same at yer age. Ye are nae that far off from the age I was when Finlay and I first met. I believe that I was much worse than ye were at that time.”
Gavina stepped away from the pot and lingered toward the window, looking out at her family as Isla continued to speak.
“Dinnae let it weigh on ye, sister,” Isla said. “Finlay merely wishes the best fer ye. As dae I.”
“I am trying, sister. I am trying as best I can.”
“Then listen. Learn. Hear what Finlay has tae say.”
Gavina opened her mouth to retort—but then a member of the clan called out: “Approaching rider!” from just outside the cottage. Isla and Gavina quickly stepped outside and met up with Finlay, a rider approaching in the distance and dressed in garb that was clearly indicative of the fact that he was a Sassenach rider.
“One of Lord Torstein’s men?” Isla inquired to Finlay.
Finlay nodded. “He bears the flower on his armor. I can see it.”
Though Finlay was validating that the man came in peace, the other members of the clan nonetheless gathered around and stood at attention—defensive and on guard. Gavina, squinting to get a better look at the rider, could not help but note his dashing features as he came into closer view. He was surely handsome—but she didn’t dare allow herself to admit it.
“What is yer name?” Finlay asked as the rider approached slowly.
“My name is Christian,” the rider said. “I bring word from Lord Torstein.” He dismounted his horse, a careful and timid expression on his face as he approached slowly and cautiously.
“What word dae ye bring?” Isla asked.
Christian reached into his satchel slowly and produced the rolled-up parchment that Lord Torstein had given to him.
“My lord,” he said as he handed the parchment over to Finlay.
Finlay opened the parchment and read the message. He let out a sigh when he read the words that had been inked on the paper.
“Come,” he said to Christian. “Let us converse inside.”
Christian was given a mug of water as he sat down at the table inside Finlay and Isla’s cottage. Gavina stood in the corner, Eamon and Rose lingering near her and speaking in hushed tones as Finlay spoke to Christian.
“This Sir Jessup,” Finlay said. “He seeks to destroy us.”
Christian nodded. “He mounts an offense as we speak, my lord. Lord Torstein wishes to know what you wish to do about the matter.”
Finlay stroked at his beard as he turned his gaze to his wife—the leader of their clan. “What dae ye think, me love?”
Isla folded her hands, her demeanor reflective of a woman in charge. “Sir Jessup does nae ken of our location, does he?”
Christian shook his head, “No, my lady. He does not. But Lord Torstein fears that he will soon learn of the secret pact that he and the members of your clan are engaged in.”
“What concerns me is that ye now possess this information—a Sassenach knight that we hae never heard of before.”
“Lord Torstein has only recently made me aware of this pact, my lady.”
“And why does he trust you?”
“I share Lord Torstein’s goal for peace. And I do not agree with the methods that our king has employed in order to make that peace. He seeks war, not a truce.”
Isla took a long moment to deduce if Christian’s intentions were pure. She did not trust the Sassenach, and the reasons were plenty. But she knew that Lord Torstein would not send just anyone in his stead, and this young man had the eager eye and voice of someone looking for a lasting peace as they did.
“What can we do?” she asked her husband. “How can we resolve this matter?”
Finlay thought for a long moment. “If Lord Torstein fears that Sir Jessup is close to discovering the truth it must be fer a reason. I fear that war is imminent.”
Isla looked at Gavina. “Take the children outside,” she said. “They dinnae need to be witnesses to this.”
Gavina nodded and shooed the children outside. Her and Christian then briefly caught glances, both of them unable to help themselves from noting the handsome qualities of the other as they did.
“What does Lord Torstein suggest we dae?” Finlay asked Christian.
“He believes,” Christian said, “that a truce may be in order. He thinks that if the proper negotiations are made, a permanent peace with Sir Jessup can be established.”
Isla huffed. “He cannae possibly think that will work. Sir Jessup will ambush us the first chance that he gets.”
Christian held up a finger. “I do not believe that to be the case, my lord, my lady. Lord Torstein believes that there is a guarantee to obtaining this proposed truce with Sir Jessup.”
“And what does that look like?” Finlay inquired.
“Lord Torstein will have to confer with Sir Jessup but he believes that if we present to him the fact that war between our people will only serve to dwindle our numbers, he will agree to end this campaign. Again, if he can convince Sir Jessup to this, we can meet at a neutral location to discuss the terms.”
Finlay looked to Isla. “We maist discuss this at length.”
Isla nodded then looked to Christian. “Will ye excuse us fer a moment?”
A nod. “Yes, my lady,” Christian said as he stood and left the cottage.
Finlay waited for Christian to leave before speaking in hushed tones to his wife. “What dae ye think?”
She shook her head. “It seems tae good tae be true.”
“But if there is a possibility that this peace can be established, perhaps we should take Lord Torstein up on his offer. We both ken that we cannae hide in the shadows fer long. This pact with Lord Torstein was bound tae come back tae haunt us.”
Isla stood, pacing and frustrated and wishing that the answer was a simple one. “I dinnae hae a good feeling about this, me love.”
“I understand. But we maist try. We can prepare ourselves and take the proper precautions. But I leav
e it tae yer discretion, me lady.”
Isla looked lovingly at her husband. She was unsure. But she knew that a decision would have to be made.
Outside their cottage, Christian lingered near Gavina as she distracted the children with the horses tethered to their post. He approached her, cautiously and curiously. He could not help but be mesmerized by her beauty, but he could immediately sense and apprehensive quality in the way she composed herself.
“My lady,” he said with a half bow.