by Barbara Bard
It placed Rebecca in the strange position of having to have all this knowledge while not being able to share it. The truth would condemn her and Catherine, yet it was so hard to hear Catherine's name besmirched like this. It took all of Rebecca's willpower to stop herself from screaming the truth, and it was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
She spared a thought for Catherine, hoping that the girl was out there and free. The last thing Rebecca wanted was to see Catherine return to this place. It would be better for everyone if she were allowed to live her life as she wanted.
Conversation soon dissipated and as soon as Rebecca was able to, she left. However, Elayne stayed close to her.
“What do you think of what Owen said?” she asked.
“I would not care to speculate. I am sure that Lady Flynn had good reasons for doing whatever she did.”
“Oh, I'm sure as well. Personally, I wouldn't blame her even if she did run away because of love. If I was given the choice between a Highlander in his prime or some stuffy old Lord, I know which choice I'd make!”
Rebecca's cheeks flushed again, not sure of what to say. She had never given much thought to men in that sense. The whole idea of romance was scary and foreboding. It had always been cloaked in mystery for her. In the absence of any words from her mouth, Elayne continued talking.
“I know they're savages, and I certainly wouldn't want to marry one, but with all their muscles and intensity they must be good for something. Like wild animals,” Elayne said, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. “Frankly I can't blame Catherine. People like you and I can talk about these matters without consequences. We could also run away with a Highlander if we so desired and nobody would bat an eye, but Catherine has responsibilities. It's no wonder she left. If she couldn't be happy here, she would have no other choice.”
Rebecca wondered if she could trust Elayne with the truth. She seemed to understand. She knew something of what it was like to lead a noble life and was already sympathizing with Catherine. But the words simply would not come. When it came to this subject it was as though Rebecca's mouth was sewn shut.
“But there is something Owen said that gets me thinking,” Elayne said.
“What's that?” Rebecca asked, glad that the subject was being changed.
“Athelred will want more children to ensure the future of his legacy. He will be looking for a new wife,” she said, an excited smile playing upon her face. Rebecca began to get a sense that something was wrong.
“Would he not look for a noble? There must be many women who are eager to marry a man as wealthy and influential as Lord Flynn,” Rebecca said, wanting to caution Elayne against her ambition.
“Oh, indeed there would be, but what if there was a girl here who took his eye, one with whom he could get on with the act of child making right away? There would be no need to pay a dowry, no need to wait for any ceremony to take place. It might be the perfect thing to alleviate his guilt. I think I shall make myself available to him, to comfort him in his time of need,” Elayne said.
Rebecca could almost see the cogs turning inside her mind, but she could not say any word of warning against Elayne's plan. Elayne was a strong-minded figure, and no words of Rebecca would dissuade her from this course of action.
“What are you all doing around here gossiping? Get back to work, the lot of you,” the head of the household said. Ellen was a harsh taskmaster, a prim woman with gray hair that was pulled back into a tight bun. She had the eyes of a hawk; they never missed a thing. Upon her arrival everyone scattered. It was as though a rock had been scattered among pigeons. Rebecca was glad of the disturbance as she wanted all discussion of this subject to end immediately, but as she was turning away with Elayne, Ellen called out to her.
“Rebecca, I must speak with you a moment,” she said. Rebecca froze. There was no escape. She turned and slowly walked towards Ellen, sure that she was walking to her doom. Fear clanged through her mind. Somebody must have seen her. Somebody must have told Ellen that Rebecca was involved. This had been a bad idea from the start, and now she was going to have to pay the price.
Chapter 7
Charlie was a strong man, and Alastar imagined he had been in a fair few bar fights in his time, but Alastar had been trained by the Blue Thistle. Charlie let his fists fly forward in a combination of punches, but Alastar was too quick for him. Alastar sped backwards. Charlie grew more frustrated by the second as none of his punches were landing. Eventually he grew so angry that he put his entire force behind one blow. Alastar had seen it coming though. He caught Charlie's arm and threw him forward onto a table. It clattered, and mugs and plates spilled to the floor.
Just like that, the fight was over.
Alastar returned to the bar as though nothing had happened. He took a mouthful of ale and used it to swig away the blood that had seeped into his mouth. There were mutterings of Highlanders, slurs against his people, but Alastar took no notice. It wasn't the first time he had heard these things, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Gradually people left the tavern, and soon only he, Mabel, Stephen, and Penny were left. The place was a mess. Alastar rose to help and together they cleaned up the tavern. Penny was in a state and her hands were still shaking, so Mabel sent her home. Stephen offered to walk her back. It was a sweet gesture, but Alastar thought Penny only accepted because the dog made her feel more protected than Stephen did.
“I'm sorry about that. I dinnae mean tae make ye inn a mess,” Alastar said.
“It's okay. I should have expected something like this to happen. It wasn't your fault. I'm glad you were here. I dread to think what would have happened to Penny. Usually I can talk the men down, but sometimes they get ideas in their heads and it's hard to shake them,” Mabel sighed. “As if the poor girl hasn't been through enough.”
“What dae ye mean?”
“Oh, it's a typical story really. Her mother died when Penny was young. She took care of her father, but then he went off to be a soldier to try and earn some coin and good favor, only to find death. She's alone, so I let her help out here for some food and copper.”
“It dinnae sound like this place is blessed,” Alastar said. “I dinnae mean tae offend ye or insult ye home, but I can only comment on what I see.”
“Oh, I know, and I don't take any offence. It's just the way of the world unfortunately. It's us common people who suffer. I don't know what we're going to do. In truth, I don't entirely blame Charlie for what he did tonight. They're all wounded, they're all scared. They've all lost something.”
“Aye, he mentioned a lad?”
“Yes, his son. A good boy, much like Stephen actually,” Mabel said, and then seemed to be overcome by a sudden sadness. She quickly shook her head to rid herself of that though. “He went off to fight with young master Flynn and never came back. Everything thought it was going to be a glorious campaign, but they returned with their head in their hands. And now they're afraid that it's going to happen again.”
“Aye, with this new attack?” Alastar asked, his ears pricking up. “Ye must hear a lot of rumor in this inn.”
“I hear my fair share, but it's important to take it all with a pinch of salt. If I believed every rumor in this place, I'd be looking up into the sky to see the pigs flying.”
“But there are some ye here more than others,” Alastar asked, carrying some mugs back to the bar.
“Yes, sadly there are. To be honest with you, war has always been on the minds of people. I remember when I was young, and the sounds of war were all around us. We were all sure that it would only be a matter of time before it happened again. It seems like some people just can't see sense. The land is big enough for everyone,” Mabel said.
“Aye, that it is. I wish things could be different.”
“You don't look old enough to have been alive in the old war,” Mabel asked.
“Nay, I was nae, but I heard about it from my father.”
“He made it through?”
“Aye, but he dinnae like it. He only fought when he thought there was something worth fighting for, like tae defend people.”
“Like you did tonight?”
“Aye, I suppose.”
“You were brave. It's not an easy thing to stand up to an inn filled with Englishman. The more I see of you though the more it's clear that you're not just a simple traveler.” For a moment Alastar thought Mabel was going to press him for more information, but she sighed. “It's none of my business though. I'm just glad you were here.”
“I am too. Can, I ask ye a personal question?” he said. Mabel stopped what she was doing for a moment. It was probably a question she had been asked before.
“You're wondering where he is aren't you? Stephen's father?”
“Aye.”
Mabel walked over to a chair and groaned as she sat down, taking the weight off her back. She stayed silent for a few moments, before she told her story.
“He's dead. He was a good man. We ran the inn here for many years, then the call came from Lord Flynn to go to war. He needed all able bodies apparently, not giving a thought to the fact that I needed Tom more. Tom was afraid that if he didn't fight, we would all be punished for not doing our duty to our Lord. Plus, he thought what a lot of other men did, that if he did well in the battle, he might be able to find favor with Lord Flynn and that would benefit us all. I tried to tell him that the only benefit we needed was him being with us, but he wouldn't listen. He didn't even consider the possibility that he might lose, but then again, I suppose few armies do.
He left us and never returned. We heard word from a mutual friend. He had lost a limb. He said that Tom had fought valiantly but hadn't fought well enough. The first thing I thought to myself is that he was a fool, a fool for leaving us, for believing that fighting was going to be for our good. He left me running this inn all by myself, and he left Stephen without a father. I wish that he had come back so I could shake some sense into him, but I can't,” she said, and her frustration quickly turned to weeping. She pressed her hand to her face and sobbed fretfully. Alastar sat beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Mabel. It's a terrible thing. I wish I could make people see sense. I wish I could make it sae that naebody went tae war. My father always tried tae tell me that war was never the answer, that tae many men died for nae good cause, and usually one war just led tae another.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man.”
“Aye, he was.”
“Is he still with you?” she sniffed.
“Nay, he died,” Alastar said. Tears stained his eyes and he blinked them back. It had been a long time since he had connected with another person in this way. Talking with Declan had been one thing, but Mabel was a survivor. She had been through some things that Declan couldn't comprehend, and Alastar felt a kinship with her that ran deep.
He opened his arms and held her for a moment, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it for her or for himself. They mourned their losses and took comfort in the knowledge that there were still good people out there.
“What are you really doing here? Do you have a wife to go home to, or children?”
“I have nobody,” Alastar said. No clan, no family, nobody but the memory of his father. “And it's better for ye if I dinnae tell ye what I'm here for. But I promise ye that nae harm will come tae ye or your boy.”
“I hope you're right. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him,” she said.
As if on cue, Stephen returned, throwing the door open. The dog scampered beside him. He took one look at Alastar and his mother and smiled, thinking that he had walked in on something he wasn't supposed to see. Alastar brought his arms back. Mabel pushed herself up and wiped the tears from her eyes, continuing cleaning.
“Stephen, I want you to go and get ready for bed,” she said. Stephen pouted, but he knew well enough to not argue with his mother. Alastar helped Mabel for a little longer in silence, before he retired to bed himself.
Alastar reflected on the evening and his heart sank. The enormity of the task before him was great. People still bore the scars from the old war, and they had been opened by the recent actions of the Flynns. He was an enemy in these lands, and it was going to be hard for him to find allies. He had been fortunate to meet Mabel, but he imagined word would spread that a Highlander was staying here. As much as he liked this place, he knew that he would need to move on soon.
A long time ago his father had told him that he wouldn't be able to put down roots with the life he wanted to live. At the time, Alastar hadn't thought that was a big price to pay, but now that so much time had passed, he realized that it wasn't only the dead who made huge sacrifices. He only hoped that he would prove himself worthy of the Blue Thistle's name.
Chapter 8
Rebecca was praying for some intrusion to distract Ellen, but nothing did. Rebecca walked slowly, heart thumping, trying not to appear too suspicious. This must be it, she thought. Catherine and Declan had been captured and they had revealed her involvement in the plan. All at once she was filled with a sense of betrayal. How could Catherine have done that to her when Rebecca had helped her so?
“Come on girl,” Ellen said sharply. The mistress turned briskly on her heels. Ellen followed, as did the gazes of everyone else who was standing in the kitchen.
Ellen waited until they were out of earshot before she turned and addressed Rebecca directly. Rebeca was already wilting, expecting to see a rank of guards waiting to take her to the dungeons.
“Are you alright girl?” Ellen asked as she regarded Rebecca She saw how pale Rebecca was, and how shaken.
“I am just distressed by the situation,” Rebecca replied, trying to choose her words carefully. Her mouth was dry, and she felt as though she was about to collapse.
“Indeed, although I am sure it will be rectified soon, and Catherine will be back with us. Now, I have a question to ask you,” Ellen said. Rebecca's heart flashed with hope. Catherine hadn't returned, which meant that she couldn't have betrayed Rebecca.
Rebecca stayed silent while she waited to see what Ellen had to say.
“I know that you have been tending to the dungeon. I don't suppose you know anything about this matter. I am trying to find out exactly how this has happened. As you can imagine, Lord Flynn is rather upset.”
“Indeed. He must be very worried about his daughter. I regret to say that I didn't. I did meet Lady Catherine, but we only spoke briefly. I have not been down to the dungeon since then.”
“Hmm, strange, since you have always made it your mission to take care of the prisoner,” Ellen said.
“I was merely shocked by the news this morning. I have not been myself all day. My mind has been rattled. I cannot believe that such a thing could happen. It is as though this estate has been cursed recently.”
“Hmm, indeed. Well, I should like you to go to the dungeon and ask the prisoner there if he saw anything. I doubt he will be helpful, but you never know. Say that if he helps us he may be looked upon favorably. It might loosen his lips if he thinks he can help his own situation,” Ellen said.
“What benefits may he receive?” Rebecca asked innocently.
“None child,” Ellen said, looking confused, “I only said promise him. I didn't say we would follow through with such a promise. I am surprised that man has not died yet. He shows a unique stubbornness, but still, that means his torture is all the more effective. Well, what are you waiting for?” she snapped, and ushered Rebecca away.
Rebecca wasn't sure what she should do. She knew very well that Alastar wasn't being held in the dungeon any longer, but she couldn't let onto that fact yet. She returned to the kitchen and found that the conversation had died down since Ellen's interruption. Rebecca made some oats and poured some water into a mug, then set it all on a tray.
“You really should forget about that prisoner. You might as well let him die. It would be more merciful to him. I know that I wouldn't like to live out my day
s in a dungeon,” one of the servants said. Rebecca ignored them and walked outside, taking each step carefully as she balanced the tray.
People were still rushing about the estate. Rebecca wondered how George was coping. He had been through a lot, had been forged by his experiences, and would be far more able than Rebecca to stand up to scrutiny. She hadn't even been questioned before she had been suffering from palpitations.
She half-expected someone to come down into the dungeon with her, to check on her, and then accuse her of treason. With every step down into that dark abode she was more and more frightened, even though she knew that there was nothing waiting for her.
A single drip of water dropped down repeatedly, echoing in the empty cavern. Rebecca stood at the front of the chamber, looking into the depressing gloom that was the jail. She had never envied the man who had been staying here, but for all the time she had spent bringing him meals he had never once spoken to her, and never had she heard his story. The only time he had said anything was when she had helped him to escape.