Thistle and Flame - Her Highland Hero

by Anya Karin

“Oh, lass,” William said with a chuckle. “You’re young still. Soon, probably sooner than you’d like, you’ll find out why we take so much time when we do this. Come over here for a moment.”

  She moved over to him and William put an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. She was only an inch or two shorter than her father, although he was far thicker across the shoulders, the arms and the neck, thanks to a lifetime of almost endless labor. Kenna put her hand on his and played with one of her Pa’s rough, callused fingers.

  For a long moment neither of them spoke. William just stroked Kenna’s arm, and she his hand as they stared off into the distance, into the mist that seemed never to leave the Fort Mary moorlands.

  “Do you see all this?” He said finally, breaking the silence.

  “See what?”

  “All the land, and the hills and the farms off to the east, do you see all of it?” His voice got a whispery kind of quiet to it as he spoke. “While we stand here, scratching away at our dirt and putting our turnips and radishes in the ground, what do you think’s happening down the road at McCullough’s farm?”

  “Breakfast, maybe? Even though it’s going on midday.”

  “Aye could be. Old man McCullough does like his late mornings,” he chuckled. “Alright, well what about McCraig?”

  “Oh that one’s easy. He’s down in the village, probably doing something with Laird Macleod’s books. Isn’t that what he does of a morning after leaving our table?”

  “But what do you suppose he’s thinking about as he does his work?”

  “How could I know?”

  “He’s at peace. He smiles as he flips through those ledgers and writes down figures and records deliveries. He comes to us of a morning, he and I shout about whatever it is that crosses our minds, and then for the rest of the day, we’re at peace. That’s what it comes down to, dearest – peace.”

  “But what does that have to do with us farming from morning to night? What does that have to do with not hurrying through this so we can go back to reading or playing Chess with Ma?”

  William Moore smiled. “It has everything to do with it.”

  Kenna puffed a sigh.

  “What do you think young Gavin is doing right now? Assuming, of course, that the tale his father shared is true – that he’s the ghost haunting the English down south at the Castle?”

  He always called Edinburgh ‘the Castle’ for the ancient building that stood on a hill at the center of town. Built a thousand years ago, part of it was anyway, it was where the King of the Scots had once sat, before that right was taken by the English who now occupied the city.

  Just thinking about Gavin sent a chill through Kenna’s chest. She turned and looked in the direction of Edinburgh that lay hundreds of miles away.

  “I imagine he’s planning an adventure. Or stealing something from a foul Englishman, or trying to run from someone who almost caught him, or-”

  “Mhm,” her father grunted. “No doubt, that’s not far from the truth. Which one sounds to you like a life you want?”

  The question stunned her. Kenna had never had an adventure. She’d never even left Fort Mary since they arrived, except to travel to the next town over for a kirk meeting every so often, when her mother felt like getting out of town for a day.

  “I think that I want to at least feel what it’s like to have some excitement. I mean, I don’t want to live like that forever and ever, but it’d be nice to have a little taste of it.” She brushed a sweat-wet lock of flaming copper hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You know what I mean?”

  “I suppose I do, aye. It’s wrong of me to expect you not to want those things. God knows I had adventures when I was young and foolish. Not that you’re foolish.” He elbowed Kenna in the ribs and they both laughed. “I forget some times that you’ve not had any. I worry about you so much that in my mind, as long as you’re here and safe, that’s all that matters. I suppose I need to come around to realizing that what I want and what you need are two very different things.”

  “No,” she said. “Not very different, I don’t think. Would be nice to see the city though, at least once. Maybe even lift a purse from some noble?” Kenna laughed and picked up her hoe and resumed scratching at the earth below, digging a new pit for a turnip.

  “Well then, remember, that if the Laird Macdonald accepts your hand, as I’ve proposed to him, you’ll see the city. His estate’s just north of Edinburgh.”

  “Dinna remind me of that – you know the last thing I want is to be wed to some noble and kept for the rest of my life.”

  “It’s safe that way, Kenna. And anyway, what other girl from Fort Mary will be able to call herself Lady?”

  “If he accepts, which I doubt, as he’s taken so long to respond.”

  William opened his mouth, but Lora Moore called from the house for them to come in for lunch before he could say anything.

  “William! Kenna! Come in you busy little soldiers! The stew’s finally got soft enough to chew.”

  She always made fun of her own cooking, but Kenna loved her Ma’s food, especially when it meant she could stop digging holes and planting for a bit.

  “What’s the stew?” The girl shouted back as she and her father gathered the tools and started back for the house.

  “Don’t forget the pick over there,” William said, “never know when a storm’s to blow in.”

  “Mutton and oats and turnips. The gravy’s nice and thick. Hurry up!” Lora shouted, then went back inside as Kenna and William gathered the rest of the tools and wandered back.

  “Do you think Gavin’s about to have a hot stew in the middle of the day? Do you think he’s about to settle in for a long meal, have a chat with his family and then go back to work in a safe, increasingly warm field for a few hours until the sun goes down, and he goes in for another meal?” William said from a few feet behind Kenna as she pulled open the door.

  She froze.

  “Worth thinking about, anyway,” he said. “Sometimes all the excitement in the world isn’t worth what you give up.”

  “More?” Lora said, even as she dumped another ladle into Kenna’s bowl. “It’s good for you, working out in the field like that.”

  “Uh, sure, thanks Ma,” she answered. “No reason for me to worry about getting fat, ah? Not like any young men are chasing me around.”

  “That took a dark turn,” Lora said. “Is something bothering you?”

  Kenna stared at her stew and stirred it but didn’t eat.

  “It’s probably my fault,” William said. “We were talking about that story that Robert Macgregor told us about his son. I think I accidentally lectured her on the benefits of a stable home life, and the dangers of adventure.”

  “Ah, William,” she said. “She’s young. Why canna you just leave her to her dreams? No young woman wants to be stuck on farm for her whole life. She wants to get out and see things, find her way.”

  William Moore took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.

  “I know that, Lora. I didn’t mean to upset the girl. You know that, aye, Kenna?”

  The three of them passed a silent second. Lora looked from William to Kenna. Kenna stirred her stew, William chewed.

  “Well, on the subject of that, did you hear the news?”

  “What news?” Kenna finally spoke. “From where?”

  “From down south, from Edinburgh. McCraig stopped by again after you two left and dropped off an old paper. Got a story about Gavin in it.” She handed the crinkled sheet over the William, and Kenna looked at it over his shoulder.

  There was, on the center of the top, a crude drawing of something that looked like a cross between a hooded specter and a monkey. Underneath a second drawing, this one a tall, gallant, dashing man with a bow slung across his chest that she instantly recognized as Robin Hood. The caption underneath read ‘Which Is He?’

  A brief story told of a heist at a noble’s manor three days before the paper, so going on two weeks prior.

>   “Says here that the Ghost,” William said, “snuck into a Queen’s Street apartment and stole a small chest full of Crowns. He then proceeded to take it around town, leaving pieces of the stash on the doorsteps of the poor. No one took more than their share, it says, and no one saw who left it.”

  He chewed his lip. “Oh, now here’s something. Says the only person who claims to have seen the man described him as tall, slender, and with an accent from the fringe of the Highlands. If it really is Gavin, then he’s got the right way of speaking, at least.”

  Kenna’s eyes suddenly darkened. “It isn’t him. It can’t be. Gavin’s no thief, not even from people who deserve it. He’s not the sort to just vanish and turn bandit, even for a good reason.”

  “What do you know of him?” William said. “We’ve got two people and a newspaper that say the same thing. What makes you so sure that he’s not running about convinced that he’s Robin Hood?”

  “It’s just...a feeling. I knew him a little. But you’re acting like I’ve done some wrong. What’s got you so upset?”

  “You knew him a very little,” William snorted. “His father kept him away from everyone else mostly. Macgregors never play well with others.”

  “William!” Lora said, slapping him on the arm. “Why are you so combative all of the sudden? Did you hit your toe with a shovel?”

  “Lora, I don’t care a whit for that boy. Makes me no difference if he’s alive or dead. All I care about is right here at this table, and I don’t want my daughter getting hurt by daydreams. She’s never mentioned the Macgregor boy before outside of some girlish fancies, and I don’t want her pining after things that she’ll never have. Anyway, she’s already promised to Laird Macdonald down south.”

  “Promised? You wrote him a letter six months past and haven’t heard anything from him. And I still don’t understand why some noble, even a minor one like Ramsay Macdonald, would want to marry a farmer’s daughter.”

  “He did me a turn once, when we were both up north. I owe him, and I owe her. She’s all I’ve to give, and getting her into a stable house is my way of making sure she’s safe from...things like this.”

  “You’re both talking about me like I’m dead or absent. I’m sitting right here Pa, why won’t you talk to me instead of about me?”

  “You’ve got no input in this, Kenna.” He said briskly. “Neither of you do. You knew this was coming, so don’t act angry about it.”

  “I never thought it would actually happen,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “Like Ma says, why would some Laird want any part of me?”

  William Moore ground his teeth. “The letter will come. Best to forget this foolishness while you still can, before you get your heart set on something impossible.”

  “Pa, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any feelings or desires for Gavin, and even if I did, as far as I know, he’s dead! He’s not in Edinburgh, he’s not raiding nobles’ houses to try and get them to leave Scotland. What a ridiculous story that is.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in a huff.

  And even if he was alive, she thought, and even if he is this wild robber of Edinburgh, I wouldn’t have any way to get to him. No matter how I might want to seehis face again, I know it’ll never happen.

  “Look,” William said, “she’s getting dreamy-eyed. This is what I wanted to avoid. Kenna,” he took a deep breath, “listen to me. Don’t allow yourself to fall into these fancies. You’re marrying Ramsay Macdonald, and you’re to move to his estates as soon as he responds to my letter. You’ll be safe, you’ll have a clutch of little fiery-headed babies, and we’ll visit on St. Stephen’s day! That’s the last I’ll hear of it!” He stood up, pushed away his empty bowl and tromped off.

  “What came over him?” Kenna said to her mother.

  “I...think he’s just worried about things. You know how he gets.”

  “Aye, but that’s quite a lot of worry over nothing.”

  “Yes,” Lora said. “But-”

  “Moore!” A voice from the road boomed.

  “McCraig again,” Lora said. “I wonder what he could want. I expect he’s hungry again, but this will be the third stop off of the day. That’s more than he ever makes and it’s only noon.”

  “Moore!” He shouted again. “I’ve a letter for you!”

  Lora and Kenna both went to the door and looked out to see William lean the hoe and pick he’d just gathered against the house and cross to where Old Man McCraig stood with something in his hand. The two men talked briefly, and then McCraig nodded and went back in the direction of town.

  “It’s come!” William said running to the house. “Laird Macdonald finally responded.”

  Kenna’s father tore open the letter as he trotted in the front door. “I hardly need to read it,” he said. “I already know what it says.”

  Kenna sat down, and took a breath. “Of all the timing,” she said.

  “He accepts! Ramsay Macdonald accepts! This is the best news I’ve heard in years!”

  “It is,” Kenna said under her breath, “certainly news.”

  Chapter Three

  “I don’t know about this, John, it just seems like a bad idea.” Gavin, hooded against the Edinburgh March, which was colder than the almanacs had promised, paced back and forth. “We were just at the Laird’s apartment in town, and now we’re supposed to go raid his estate out in the country? I know he’s the foulest sort, and one of the very few Scots nobles who won’t do anything at all for Scotland, but I don’t know.”

  “Well look at it this way,” John said, scratching his two-fingered hand along his jaw. “Let’s hear this woman out, and then make a decision. She says she’s got some kind of information that’ll help us, and she’s willing to pay a pretty big sum for us to nab a – what was it? Hairpin? – from the estate.”

  Gavin kicked a clod of dirt free from the muck-lined road, and booted it a ways down the street. Next he started digging at a cobblestone with his toe.

  “She did promise a lot,” he said, “especially for someone who lives in a place that looks like this. And are you hearing this noise?”

  “So she’s got a lot of young children running around. And she lives a place what isn’t big enough for ‘em all. Seems like that’s the case for everyone who isn’t a lord these days, or an Englishman. No reason she can’t have a few jewels socked away.”

  “You’re right,” Gavin said. “Of course, you’re right. And what am I – are we – even doing here if it isn’t to help people?”

  “Exactly. What’s come over you lately?” John said out of nowhere, stunning Gavin. “Yesterday you were going on about some girl that you never mentioned before, that you didn’t even know, and haven’t the slightest what she’s doing, and today you’re saying you don’t know about a job. Ain’t you supposed to be some kind of ghost?” He waved his hands around, hopped from one foot to the other, and Gavin couldn’t help but laugh, no matter how dark his mood.

  The hooded man shook his head. “It’s hard to say. I think the weather’s just getting to me. I miss Fort Mary, you know. I miss the planting season. This city business is making me sick. All the stuff all over the streets, the smell, it’s just getting to me is all.”

  “Well, we got work to do, you and me. We have a whole list of people what’ve done horrible things, and we have to make sure they pay for them. No one else is going to do it, you know.”

  “After the war, after Charlie’s rebellion was put down,” Gavin said scratching his stubble-lined chin. “I never thought there would be anything I could do to help. It was hopeless. Everyone’s face was hopeless and sallow and sunken.”

  “Aye, I know,” John said softly.

  “This life we’ve made, if you can call it that, it can’t last forever. Someday we’re either going to steal everything that isn’t nailed down and half of what is, and give it to the people to whom it all rightfully belongs, or we’re going to get caught, yeah? Either way, it’s not going to last f
orever.”

  A shuffling noise inside the attic drew John’s glance, and one of the many, many children within let out a shrill cry right before a huge whopping sound quieted the voice.

  “Must’ve hurt,” he said and laughed.

  “You were saying?”

  “Right, what we’ve been at so far is a child’s game. Stealing things, giving what we take to the poor. Things are going to change soon, and we’ve to change with them Gavin, or be swept away.”

  “If we’re going to do more than just some petty thieving,” Gavin said. “We need more than two men living atop a tavern.”

  “Right and you need a bow and I a big stick. But my point is this – Robin, yeah – he didn’t really do much of anything whilst he was just cavortin’ around the woods and stealing things from Friar Tuck.”

  Another walloped bottom and another squeal from in the house made both of them look at the door and edge away.

  “He only stole from Friar Tuck the once, and then the fat priest joined him.” Gavin said, not paying much attention to his friend. “It was always the Sheriff he was really after.”

  “Aye, and how did he finally get the evil Sheriff? How did he finally make the throne safe for good King Richard again?”

  “John, I’m not here to start any wars. That’s just –”

  “You’re not listening to me. Robin didn’t start a war. A little skirmish, maybe, but a war certainly not. What he did do was use his wits. Like old Odysseus after the Trojan War. Robin wasn’t the strongest, or the smartest or the bravest, and he didn’t have a lick of gold to his name. But what he did have, were wits, and a plan.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that we have wits. You and me, we’ve got brains in our heads. Why not stop the games? If we’re to scamper off to Ramsay Macdonald’s country estate and steal a gold hairpin, why not take the chance to leave a mark? That greasy Sheriff is after you, right? Lay a trap for him. If King George’s goon fails to catch a naughty Scot, maybe the King’s patience will run short with him.”

  “A trap? You want me to set a trap for the brute in charge of security in Edinburgh? And you want me to do this, somehow, in the midst of burgling a noble’s estate in the countryside? How do you think that should all happen?”