A Widow Plagued

by Allie Borne

  Hannah laughed softly and brushed David's hair from his face. “Aye, Sir David. I pity myself!” She stifled a squeal as he pulled her down to face him.

  “Truly?” he asked, concern etching his features. The blood on his temple and the scar on his face could not hide the stark, child-like need that lay within his eyes. He needed to be wanted, to be loved.

  “Nay,” she sighed hugging his head gently to her chest. “In truth, I count my blessings each night afore I sleep...and, verily, the first blessing I count is thee.”

  Sir David looked up into Hannah's face, and a warmth filled the small crevice, emptying the cold spaces between them. “If I have to wait a hundred years to wed thee, Lady Hannah, t'would be worth every moment.”

  The chaste kiss he pressed to her lips filled him with more contentment than any tumble in the hay had ever done before. Aye, Hannah had turned his life inside out, and he could not be any happier for it.

  ~

  Hearing the distant hollering of men in hot pursuit, Gavin gave up stealth for speed. Leaning low over his stallion's neck, he kicked his horse into a gallop. Thomas followed close behind.

  Surely, Sir Robert would not harm Sara. Without her, he had no pawn with which to barter. Yet, with both Elizabeth and Sara dead, he might readily be able to stake a claim with the court for his property. He must make it to his wife in time.

  Within ten minutes, Gavin had closed the distance. He found Sir Robert standing in the middle of the trail, a barely recognizable woman on her knees before him. Riding up into the mix of men, he slashed his way towards Sir Robert who spun about and lifted his sword. Thomas guarded Gavin's back. Two more men lay bleeding out on the path at his feet. Sir Robert's other two men stood menacingly behind the blackened face of a woman who must be Millie. Her face was unrecognizable, mottled as it was from repeated blows.

  “Step away from the wench and ye can keep yer ill begotten lives,” Gavin's voice rang out in righteous rage.

  “Touch her, and yer death will be slow and painful,” Thomas reiterated. He had taken the opportunity to release all three of the other men's horses and, smacking them with the end of his sword, had sent them galloping away. Thomas allowed his own war horse to prance about the outskirts of the group, a reminder of how easily he could trample them where they stood.

  “Ye let her go and we have nothing with which to bargain,” Sir Robert warned his compatriots.

  “Ye, Sir, have no honor. Ye have lain yer hands upon a woman and will get nothing from me. If ye walk away now, I will leave ye yer miserable life. If ye refuse, I will cut ye down and sleep the more soundly for it.”

  Sir Robert looked up into the stern countenance of his adversary and nodded. “Aye, I admit defeat, Lord Sanders. My quarrel with thee is at and end.”

  “Walk back the way from whence ye came,” Gavin ordered, turning his horse to watch the men file past.

  “If I so much as see yer face again, Sir Robert, my sword will be the last thing ye set eyes upon.”

  Sir Robert nodded and kept walking.

  “See to Millicent,” Gavin prompted Thomas.

  Thomas slid from his horse and hustled over to lift Millie from the ground. “I'll take her back to the men's wagon,” Thomas offered, handing her up to Gavin while he remounted.

  Gavin gingerly placed Millie back in Thomas' arms. Fearfully, he asked her, “have ye seen Lady Sara?”

  “In the woods,” Millie rasped.

  Gavin nodded, and Thomas took off.

  Sara stood watching the events play out before her. Like a coward, she had stood and watched her dearest friend in the world take a beating for her. Several times, she had moved to step from the shadows and take her place, each time she was stayed by an invisible hand that warned her she risked more than her own life.

  What would become of Elizabeth, if she were to leave her unguarded in the woods? What if she were to bring her with her into the melee? She could not.

  She died a thousand deaths as Sir Robert back handed Millie again and again. Millie had spoken not one word, simply spitting blood upon the man's tan chauses. Sara rejoiced when Gavin rode up, sword swinging.

  Yet, now, as he peered into the woods, she hadn't the heart to go to him. The ghosts of the deceased swirled about her, castigating her, reminding her of how she had failed them. Lady Sanders, Christian, Lord Sanders, James-their eyes were clouded white in death and their hands rose crooked fingers to point at her, in turn. She wanted to cry out to them, to tell them she was sorry she could not save them. But, they were beyond hearing her now; they were beyond her reach.

  Crumpling to the ground, Sara barely acknowledged Elizabeth's squirming form beneath her cloak. She watched as if detached from her own body as Gavin searched for her and then moved further down the road, towards the wagon.

  Get up! she told herself. Move! Save yer wee bairn... What if Millie needs ye? That thought had Sara standing and moving past her lethargy. She had to be of use to someone; she could not continue to let those that depended on her down.

  Standing, she moved slowly toward the path. Walking behind Gavin as he wove in and out of the woods, she felt a ghost of herself. It wasn't until Elizabeth called out in her startling, infant warble that Gavin noticed he was being followed.

  Turning to see the dark cloaked figure behind him, he shivered. He was not a superstitious man, but the look of that wraith-like figure, fairly floating towards him was enough to give him pause. Had Death finally come to pay him a visit?

  Nay, twas his own wife and child. Dismounting, Gavin ran to them. Pushing the hood from Sara's head, he ran his palms along her face and skull, looking for any possible injury. She did not respond, but stood staring at him, a vacant expression on her face. Unclasping her cloak, Gavin allowed it to fall to the ground. He grabbed the swaddled bundle from her arms and continued to run his hand along her length. Her collar bone was intact, no broken arms, no open wounds, her legs were fine...

  “What ails ye, Wife?” Gavin ground out, fearful to embrace her and cause her undue pain.

  Fat, mute tears ran down Sara's face once more. She spoke not a word, but shook her head in silent anguish.

  Gavin thought he understood. Enveloping her in his arms, he whispered. “Ye survived. Ye saved Elizabeth. Millie will live, all because ye were a clever lass and kept yer cover. Don't go questioning yerself now, that way lays the path to madness.”

  Sara nodded and allowed herself to be lifted onto Gavin's horse. Gavin mounted behind and trotted his way back to the men's wagon. Night was falling, and they would need to regroup.

  Gavin peered beneath the rocky ledge where Sara pointed and barked a warning. “I told ye to keep yer hands off my daughter until yer right and truly wed!”

  A shuffling could be heard below and soon Sir David shimmied his bloody, dirt-cake frame from the crevice. “I w-was simply c-comforting the Lady Hannah, My Lord.”

  “Is that what the young people call it now days?” Gavin glowered. “Keep yer hands to yerself or I'll see them flayed open.”

  Sir David paled. Lord Sanders did not make idle threats. Gavin pulled Hannah from the crevice and hugged her. “My heart rejoices that thou art well.”

  Hugging him back, she laughed joyfully. “As does mine, at seeing my stepparents.”

  The group made their way a mile back down the road, where Thomas and Gavin had moved the wagon and set up camp. There, in the far corner of the open space grew a cherry tree. Beneath it, they had built a space for James' body. Sara, Gavin, and Thomas continued to add stones to the grave.

  A fire burned merrily just before the wagon, and the horses all grazed, their lengths of rope staked to the ground nearby. Hannah and Sir David agreed to take the first watch with Thomas. Sara and Gavin would have the second.

  Gavin did not argue when Sara climbed into the wagon with Millie. He knew she needed to be with her friend, to help them both heal from their ordeal. He did his best to settle into his blanket by the fire and get some much-needed sl
eep.

  ~

  After silently suffering through yet another damp cloth swabbing her battered face, Millie lifted her aching arm and caught Sara's wrist. “I'll be fine if ye give my poor face a rest,” she chuckled through swollen, cracked lips.

  “Thou art the bravest woman I know, Millicent. Can ye ever forgive me for not coming to yer aid?”

  Millie grunted and turned her sore eyes up at her young friend. “Ye know well and good all my suffering t'would have been for naught, had ye rushed out to join me. Quit beating yerself up about it now. We both did what we had to do.”

  “Nay, Millie. I ran when the wagons were attacked and I hid when thou were captured. I will not compound my cowardliness by making excuses.”

  Shift finished, Hannah climbed into the wagon in time to hear her stepmother's words. Scooting forward, she leaned in to whisper, “a wise woman once told me that, 'sometimes, waiting and hiding is the most clever and brave thing a person can do.'”

  Millie cracked a lopsided smile and Sara chuckled, drawing her daughter into a fierce embrace. “Who knew ye listed to a word I say?” The three women sat contentedly for several moments, cherishing their companionship before Sara sighed and slipped out to take over the next watch.

  ~

  Gavin awoke with a start. Coming up on his elbow, he narrowed his eyes to assess the threat. Sara stood in shadow, building up the fire. Her black mourning cloak draped around her, obscuring her figure in the dark. His mind wandered over all they had survived together, in the past two months.

  Soon, God willing, they would be back in their home, safe and secure, with a winter's worth of grain and meat to feed them all. Soon, they would have days on end to spend in one another's company. He hoped they would find a way to be intimate with one another-to embrace one another's curves and edges, and to make the best out of the hand life had dealt them. Tugging on the bottom of Sara's cloak, he waited for her to lean over him before he pulled her into his embrace.

  For once, Sara did not resist. Instead, she allowed him to run his hand inside her cloak and down the front of her gown. Gently, he squeezed each breast in turn, then reached around to pull her tightly against him.

  Sara made a low, contented sound deep in her chest that set Gavin on fire. Pressing her body against his hardening manhood, he wrapped the woolen blanket about them both and quickly lifted her gown to her waist. Swiftly and quietly he took her beside the fire, whilst the others slept. Deeply, he pressed her bottom against his hips willing himself deeper and deeper into her welcoming warmth.

  Sara moaned, and he moved to cover her mouth with his own. In moments, he was pouring himself into her once more. What was it about this woman that forced him to lose all control? Shuddering against her he hugged her fiercely, willing her to return to the land of the living, willing her to love him, as he had grown to love her.

  “I love ye,” he whispered, loathing the needy, grasping tone in his voice.

  “If ye really knew me, ye would know that tis impossible,” Sara sighed, rolling away from him and slowly rising to make her way to the edge of the clearing.

  Like a besotted puppy, Gavin followed. He allowed her her privacy when she walked behind a large boulder to make water. Yet, when she returned, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arm about her shoulder.

  Sighing, Gavin tried again. “God loves all his children. He gives us mothers and fathers here on earth, so we can learn what unconditional love is. In turn, we offer love to others freely, as husbands, wives, mothers, and fathers ourselves. Thee and I have not always had that love from our family, but we shall start right now.”

  Sara smiled ruefully. “I suppose that we can try.”

  Gavin's heart shriveled at Sara's lukewarm response. Deep down, he knew better than to try to illicit a love vow from his wife on the same day that she witnessed one friend die and another being beaten. Yet, when had their lives not been littered with death and destruction?

  If not now, when?

  He would make due with the gift of her body for now and hope that the softer affections came later. Twas often the case with arranged marriages, he knew.

  Pulling her down to the ground once more, he determined to start with what he knew she liked.

  Sara gasped as Gavin's hands and mouth worked to bring her to the heights of passion. She felt guilty, allowing herself to enjoy her husband's embrace, when so many had suffered and died. Yea, a small bit of her longed to seize what happiness she could. After all, had she not worked tirelessly to please others over the years?

  And he had claimed he loved her! Secretly, she had always yearned for a love like her parents had owned. Deep within her, Sara's soul ached for that closeness. Grasping Gavin's shoulders, Sara gave over to her affections and clung to the man who promised to give her just that.

  Epilogue

  Deep were the roots of the giant oak; so deep that they ran the length of the well some 50 yards off. Aye, and thick were the roots of the gnarled tree; so thick that she and her beloved could sequester themselves between two. Leaning against the broad trunk, the lovers were embraced by this land they protected. Resting her head against Lord Sander's broad shoulder, Sara sighed. The dappled daylight lit Sara's blonde waves and winked at her from her husband’s broadsword.

  “Must we go, My Love?” Sara sighed, unwilling for their day to end.

  “Aye, I'm afraid we must. I'll not have my child born here at the base of this tree.”

  Sara laughed, tossing her head back in wanton abandon. “I wish t'would happen so quickly, My Lord. Yea, ye know better than that.”

  Gavin dug his mouth into the crook of Sara's neck and relished the smell of heather that greeted his senses.

  “Tis back to the keep with us, until the bairn comes,” he insisted.

  Sara sighed again, and stood, rubbing her lower back. Looking at Elizabeth toddling about in the field, trying her best to capture a tiny yellow butterfly, Sara's heart turned soft as honey. Their household grew stronger with each passing year, as did her love for her husband and growing family. Hannah and David had married this summer and remained happily within Hampstead Manor. She and Gavin had spent the month of the honeymoon here, at Sara's childhood home.

  It was Gavin's wedding gift to his wife-the old farmhouse rehabilitated and refurnished. Elizabeth and Sara had flourished here this past month, with only the occasional servant stopping in to help with the larger tasks, they had had the time alone she so clearly craved.

  Now, they could rejoin Hannah, David, Millie, Adam, and Thomas at the keep. They could welcome another bairn into the family and live out their lives in relative peace, God willing. Deep were the roots of this giant oak and deep were the roots of the love that tied them all together.