by Barbara Bard
Elayne could well think that she could turn the head of a noble, and she may well have been right, but that was only because she had been blessed by the angels with such beauty. Rebecca would never have had such hope, for she was entirely ordinary, with freckles over her face and mousy brown hair that came to her shoulders. Her figure was slim, and she had not developed as other girls had, certainly not as Elayne, who resembled an hourglass.
“I am sure you will make a fine wife someday, but I believe it is beyond my ambitions to look for a husband with such a high social standing. I would be happy to find a good man with a kind heart who will take care of me. It is not the size of the house that matters to me, but what a man has in his heart,” Rebecca said.
“Believe me, there's only one size that matters,” Elayne said, her lips curling into a teasing smile. Rebecca blushed again. It was well-known that Elayne was experienced with men, but Rebecca had not yet lost her virtue. Whenever the subject was brought up, it caused Rebecca no end of discomfort and she often had to stammer her way out of conversations.
“I should be happy staying here. I am used to this place and the land around us. I do not think I would like to get used to new surroundings,” Rebecca said, although if Catherine had remained here and taken her away from this place she would not have minded too much, except for the fact that the prisoner would surely have died, as nobody else would have bothered to tend to his needs.
Still, all that was moot since Catherine wasn't here. Rebecca didn't have the heart to tell Elayne that she would never leave this place.
“You'd think differently if you were like me. I have to make a good match for the sake of my family. Our lands were stolen out from under us, and I must see that I get back to a good standing and hope that any son I have will be able to reclaim our lands,” Elayne said.
Rebecca remained quiet. All the talk of war and revenge made her uneasy. Elayne had told her the story of how her family had lost its lands many times before. There had been a dispute and Elayne's father, who had been the rightful holder of the land, became embroiled in a war with a rival.
It seemed to Rebecca that the claim on a land did not matter much if the enemy had a stronger force. Elayne was just a baby when their parents were driven out. Deprived of their wealth, with their army shattered and broken, no allies would turn to their air. Elayne's father had died of illness, and her mother went into servitude. She found a job here, and Elayne continued working as a maid as her life continued.
It had been a dramatic beginning to a life, and Elayne seemed like the type of person that was born for adventure, unlike Rebecca, whose upbringing had been distinctly average. Her mother and father had been kind, good people. When Rebecca was old enough, she left to find work, and that had led her to the Flynn estate.
Unlike Elayne, she had no ambitions for her life. She simply wanted to do a good job, find a good husband, and raise a good family. She had only been on the periphery of an adventure, playing a supporting role in Catherine's plan, and it left her feeling frantic. She couldn't imagine what it would be like for her entire life to be this way.
“You should try to leave with Lady Flynn as well, then the two of us can be together. It would be such fun!” Elayne exclaimed.
“We shall see. I am sure Lady Flynn has her favorites,” Rebecca said, trying to remain neutral. Deep down she knew that Elayne's hopes would be dashed.
A few moments later, Rebecca and Elayne left their chambers and went to the kitchen to get their breakfast.
The huge kitchen was a hub of activity. People were bringing in bread and meat that had been delivered. The kitchen staff were yelling loudly, as they were always wont to do. Plates clattered, and pots boiled. Steam hung in the air. A cat squealed as it was shooed out of the kitchen.
Rebecca smiled at some of her colleagues as she stood in line, waiting to get her porridge. She took a bowl and a spoon, then ladled a couple of heaps of porridge into her bowl. It was bland and tasteless, but warm, and eating it helped to quell the nauseous feeling in her stomach.
She sat down at a table and bent over, eating her porridge. As she did so, her eyes darted towards the door, afraid that guards would storm in at any moment and confront her about her role in Lady Flynn's disappearance. Her body trembled, and she had to force her hand to stop shaking as she brought it to her mouth.
She kept telling herself that all she had to do was get through this one day and everything would be alright, because if she got through one day then she could get through another. However, it was difficult to be with the other servants, harboring a secret from them. Rebecca had always been told that it was a sin to lie, and she was afraid that she would invite the wrath of the Lord upon herself.
She scraped the last bits of porridge from her bowl and took it to the sink, where there were a number of people washing. They looked strained and tired.
“What are you standing around for?!” a voice boomed at her. Rebecca stood rigid as Ellen thundered toward her. The woman was as broad as a bull and as stout as a dwarf. Her voice only had one volume; a bellow. She thrust a thick finger into Rebecca's face.
“I-I'm sorry Ellen, I have just finished breakfast.”
“Well, if you've finished breakfast then you can get to work can't you,” she sneered, looking at Rebecca with her beady eyes.
“Yes ma'am,” Rebecca said, bowing her head. Ellen was the master of the kitchen and held great sway over the servants. In this arena her word was as powerful as that of Lord Flynn's, and she knew it. Everyone feared her, as much as they feared the nobility. Rebecca quickly skedaddled away and left the kitchens, walking by herself for a little while.
The more time she spent by herself the safer she would be, she assumed. Rebecca was always a dutiful girl. She'd noted that some people always liked to slack off, but she had never shown such laziness. In all areas of her life she was an exemplary worker, except for the fact she had helped prisoners escape. She dearly hoped that that mistake would not cost her.
Rebecca looked across the courtyard to see the cat bouncing around, searching for some food. Rebecca walked past a cart and picked up a little bit of meat, then walked up to the cat and tossed the meat on the ground. The cat mewed happily as it tore at the meat, and then looked up at Rebecca with wide eyes, begging for more.
“Sorry cat, but I don't have anything else. I'm sure someone else will throw you a scrap or two,” she said, shrugging, then walked away.
The duties she performed were often the same. The army of servants that Lord Flynn employed were enough to tend to the house and the gardens. There were different divisions for different areas. Some, like Elayne, mostly worked in the house. Rebecca occasionally had some tasks in the house, but usually she was working in the kitchens, bringing food to the gardeners and stable boys. This suited her well, as she felt out of place in such opulent surroundings.
The humble servant gazed at the gardens and saw the gardeners tending to the flowers. She paused for a moment, gazing at them with envy. She had tried in vain to work in the gardens, but it was a prestigious position, and nobody had liked her enough to give her the opportunity.
Sighing as she looked at her hands, Rebecca noted the calloused fingertips and the rough skin. She was about the furthest thing from a noble that anyone could be, but she longed to feel the softness of the petals and tend to the warm soil rather than scrub and clean hallways and floors.
Suddenly, Rebecca was filled with the fear of Ellen rebuking her for being lazy, so she scurried away to get busy.
Mostly, the servants knew what to do and when to do it. The work was routine, and there was plenty of it. If something looked dirty, you cleaned it, if an animal needed feeding, you fed it. There were no strict orders, but if anything was of immediate importance, Ellen or one of the other masters would soon fetch a few servants and tell them what they had to do.
Rebecca went to the well and fished out a pail of water. She picked up a cloth, and then went to the washroom to add soap to
the water, mixing it until it became sudsy. Then, she went outside and began to polish the lower windows. Later on, she would look for a ladder, but for the moment this work was routine and mundane enough for her to lose herself in it.
It also allowed her to turn her back from the world and ignore the problems of the estate. She looked past her reflection in the window and tried not to worry about what could happen. However, as soon as she started to think about this, her mind began to whirl.
She imagined guards coming up to her and grabbing her, pulling her away to a dark fate. Either they would take her in front of Lord Athelred Flynn, and she would be forced to confess her crimes, or they would simply throw her into the dungeon herself, and she had seen how desperately dire that fate was. Her heart had always gone out to the prisoner locked in the dungeon. She'd had no idea why he was in there, for he had already been imprisoned when she arrived at the estate. The treatment of him was inhumane, even if he had committed many crimes.
The problem was, Rebecca had never been able to glean any information about the crimes he had committed. Everyone in the estate merely told her that he'd gone against Lord Flynn, but they provided no details. Sometimes, they implied that being a Highlander was enough of a crime.
Rebecca wasn't politically minded, but although she was afraid of the vicious Highlanders she didn't think one should be punished for being what they were. The Lord had made everything, and everything had its purpose, surely punishing somebody for their nature was showing disrespect to the wisdom of God?
She shook her head. These matters were not something a girl like her should be thinking about. She was of a lowly position and did not need to worry about these things. She focused on the window. Rebecca dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it, watching the excess water trickle down the side of her hands and back into the bucket. Then she put the cloth against the glass and rubbed it in a circular motion. The suds lingered on the smooth pane, then dripped down.
Her arm was used to such methodical work, so she was not tired by it, and eventually she had made it along one wall.
The burning red sky was beautiful this early in the morning. Rebecca always liked these times, for it was before most of the household was awake, and it was entirely peaceful. She dreaded the moment that was inevitable, for it wouldn't be long until Catherine's disappearance was discovered, and then it would surely only be a matter of time until she was questioned. Just the thought made her light-headed, for she didn't think she would be able to lie.
Before she knew it, she had been standing with her hand against the window for some time. Suds crept along her hand and dripped to the floor. She closed her eyes and thought about her parents, wondering if they had ever been faced with a trial such as this.
She couldn't imagine so, because her parents had been paragons of virtue, and it almost seemed like she had let them down by becoming involved in a scheme like this.
Rebecca turned around a corner and began to scrub the windows on this side of the building, but then she looked over to the stables and saw George tending to the horses. He was the only other person, aside from those that had escaped, who knew what had happened the previous night. For a few moments she debated whether she should go and talk to him or not, and in the end, she decided not to. Being seen with him would only raise suspicion, and she didn't want to draw any attention to herself.
George had already told her about his ordeal, how he had been the escort for Lady Brambly, Harold Flynn’s intended bride, and her handmaid. He'd done the only thing he could do to protect the girls he knew, and that was to lie about their identity. The handmaid had been passed off as Lady Brambly. It seemed a convoluted situation. Rebecca hoped she would never get involved in something like that.
It really was where things had spiraled out of control, from Rebecca’s point of view. Once the ruse was discovered by Lord Flynn, he had flown into a rage and stormed into the Highlands, declaring war. He had never returned. Neither had the handmaid. Rebecca had heard from Catherine that both Lady Brambly and the handmaid, Sarah, were now living with Highlanders. Catherine had left too. What was it about these Highlanders that were so appealing? Rebecca didn’t know.
The water turned a dirty black color, so Rebecca carried the pail back to the well, intending to continue with washing the windows to make them sparkle and gleam as the light from the sun struck them. She was in the middle of carrying the pail when she heard a commotion. People ran through the courtyard. Windows were flung open.
“Lady Flynn has gone!” the call came. Rebecca stopped in her tracks. Sweat beaded at her temples. The pail of water suddenly seemed heavier than usual and she felt faint. Her face paled and her lips tightened for it had finally happened. The discovery had been made, and it was only a matter of time before they realized that Declan had escaped as well, and then they would be coming to ask her questions.
The greatest test Rebecca had ever faced was upon her, and she only hoped that she would be able to endure it without suffering. She thought of the scars on George's back and could almost feel the pain on her own. Then she thought of the man she had help escape, the one who had been in the dungeon for years. She also thought about the people George had talked about, the ones who had been hanged.
None of their fates seemed like something Rebecca could endure. She had become entangled in this mess through no fault of her own, and Lady Flynn wasn't even here to help her!
The thunder of hooves echoed through the air as a heavy wagon rolled out of the estate. It was black and foreboding, and the guards it carried had a determined, malevolent look in their eyes. Rebecca was afraid then, not just for herself, but also for the people she helped escaped, for surely, they would be captured.
Chapter 3
Alastar began to consider his next plan of action. The temptation to simply flee was ever present in his mind, but he never seriously considered it. Anger and resentment had been festering inside him for too long. He couldn't leave the estate, not after the treatment he had suffered at the hands of Lord Flynn, and not when he knew the lord was planning a war against his people. He was finally free, and he could finally make a difference again.
It felt good to have a weapon back in his hands, and he was glad that his skills had not deserted him. He had been training from a young age, had had a sword thrust in his hand as soon as he could walk, and though his reflexes were a little rusty, he felt more like himself again. The first thing he did was use it to cut away his beard. It was long and thick, and took a lot of hacking, but eventually he was left with a stub. A proper shave would have to wait until later. This would have to do for now.
Patience was a virtue Alastar had developed in great abundance during his imprisonment. He knew the fate that awaited Lord Flynn, and that he would be the one to deliver a grisly death to the English lord. It would just be a matter of time.
“I will be coming for ye,” Alastar muttered under his breath, then took his eyes away from the estate and looked at the path ahead.
He investigated the body that was left, wrapping a cloak around his body, and sheathed his sword. He checked the pockets and pulled out a few silver coins, flicking one of them in the air and catching it, smiling. Robbing bad men never gave Alastar a guilty conscience.
After pocketing the money, he looked at the dead man.
“What shall I dae with ye?” he asked. There was nobody else around, and nobody had witnessed the murder. The other horses would no doubt return to the estate. It wouldn't do any harm to leave this body out here. It wasn't as though anyone could link the body to him anyway. Sadly, there were only two people that cared about him enough to even suspect him, Lord Flynn and the girl that rescued him.
Ah yes, thinking about her gave Alastar a pleasing feeling. A smile curled on his lips. She had been the only person to show him any kindness during his imprisonment. There had been many people who came down to piss on him and taunt him, but they had soon grown bored. Rebecca had always brought him food. Without her he was sur
e that he would be dead.
He owed her his life.
During his time in the dungeon he had barely spoken to her for it seemed pointless. There was no sense in losing himself to a pretty face, and a beautiful girl like her was never going to be taken in by a prisoner like him. He could sense the fear on her every time she came down into the dungeon, and yet she kept coming. She was a brave one, and she had proven that again by helping them escape.
Whistling a merry tune, he walked along the path away from the scene of the crime, smiling to himself at the thought of what was to come. Catherine and Declan had managed to get away clean, and he was free to take his revenge. Everything was coming apart for Lord Flynn. He'd lost his son and his daughter, and soon he would lose his life.
Alastar walked for a little while until he came to a small inn. There was a sign hanging above the door, which creaked a little as the morning breeze fell against it. There were a few animals out in the front, and some horses that were stabled. It seemed quiet, which was exactly what Alastar needed at the moment.