by Barbara Bard
There was a long pause. “Nay Deirdre, I cannae. But I also cannae go against Blair. What ye propose is mutiny, and that is worse than anything the English could do tae us. What if Rosemary is a spy? Surely she'd want to sow discord among us, so by doing this, ye are doing exactly what she wants. Nay, if Rosemary is a spy then eventually she'll reveal herself. I'm not going to fight Blair. We cannae fight against each other. But I will keep an eye on her, and at the first sign of trouble, I'll confront Blair. I hae my worries about the lass as well.”
“What worries, Drew? Do ye know something you're no' telling us?”
“Nay, I dinnae know anything. But I hae my suspicions. All I'll say is that I'm more worried about what Rosemary would do if Blair died than what she'll do while he's alive. I hae to think about what tae do next, but I dinnae want any of this to continue. Ye think ye are doing something good for the clan but ye are only sowing discord, and this isn't right. Do yer best, do yer duty, and let me worry about Blair.”
Without waiting for their reply, Drew pushed through them and left them in the forest. At the moment Blair was oblivious to the brewing discontent, but if it got worse a faction could arise that would prove Blair's downfall.
It was left to Drew to try and diplomatically conjure up a solution to this mess, but he didn't think Blair was going to like anything presented to him, especially not when it concerned Rosemary's honesty. However, Drew couldn't let what he heard pass without comment. If there was even a chance that Rosemary would forsake them Drew had to do something, even if it meant provoking the wrath of his brother.
So it was with a heavy heart that Drew made his way back to the castle where he would have to confront Blair once again. The suspicion of Rosemary could not be allowed to fester though. Drew wished that Blair had never brought that woman back with him. None of these problems would have surfaced if it had not been for that mistake, a mistake that Drew hoped would not prove fatal to the well-being of the Highland clans.
Chapter 5
Sarah was astounded at the sheer number of men gathered to go to war. Men lined up in hundreds, dressed fully in their war armor, each with their sword and shield. They marched and the ground trembled. Fathers, brothers, and sons coming together for a cause they believe in, mothers, sisters and wives bound by their impending sorrows.
Drums of war and tears went up into the atmosphere. Until now she hadn’t really known the gravity war, the pain it could bring. She had never seen such a stark reminder of how many lives were on the line, and this her heart was filled with fear.
The thought of going to the front lines of the war filled her with trepidation for there she could be killed, but it wasn't as though Lord Flynn would have it any other way. He wanted to mark his glory with a wedding.
She looked away from the men and saw Lord Flynn approaching her – thankfully she and Catherine were riding towards the back of the army, while Lord Flynn was leading the charge – when he reached her, he took her hand and helped her into the carriage. He held to her hands and covered it with his other hand.
“My beloved Rosemary. I will be honored to take your hand in marriage when this war is won. My glory in battle will only be second to my glory of marrying you. I know it will not be the wedding we envisioned for ourselves, but we shall have our love and our countrymen. There will be nothing more we can need”, he said as she climbed up the carriage and sat down.
“My lord, nothing will please me more than to be your wife and bear your children. We shall have the wedding here after your victory over the Highlanders”
With this, Lord Flynn went to his carriage and proceeded for battle.
After what seems like forever, the army came to a stop. The tension in the air was palpable. Sarah leaned out of the carriage to look at the men and they were all getting themselves ready for war. Some of them looked pensive, others were eager to get started. Some, she could tell, were trying to keep themselves from weeping.
The door to the carriage opened. Lord Flynn was standing there. He helped Catherine out and then beamed at Sarah.
“This is it! The time is almost upon us!” Lord Flynn declared, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“I wish you well,” Sarah said, her eyes darting around furtively, just in case Lord Brambly was anywhere to be seen.
“We received a messenger saying that your father was delayed. He should be here presently,” Lord Flynn said, puffing out his chest as he breathed in the air around them.
“But he should hurry otherwise he may find that the battle has already been won!” he boasted.
“You should not be so confident yet. From all reports the Highlanders are savage enemies,” Catherine said.
“Indeed they are savages. They are mindless brutes who do nothing but attack. They have nobody the equal of me. I have a strategic mind, you see. I have studied under the best. Father saw to that, and I shall make him proud that I am his son.”
Lord Flynn turned to Sarah and saw that she was troubled, although for entirely different reasons than he suspected.
“Do not fret, my beloved. The war will not last long. It will be a swift victory for the English, and then we will be wed. Even though I shall be leading the troops I will not die. It is not my time. God has many plans for me yet, including raising a family with you. This is going to be the start of the rest of our lives together, and it will be glorious.”
“I am sure you will make us all proud,” Sarah said.
“I will, Rosemary. I will show you the kind of man you are marrying. Before I am done this field will be soaked in the blood of the barbarians.” He leaned forward to kiss her hand again, then strode away with his head held high. He acted as though this was what he had been born for, but Sarah wondered if he wasn't being as foolhardy as all the other young soldiers who welcomed war.
Sarah turned away, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“It will all be well, Rosemary. My brother will not die. He is far too stubborn for that,” Catherine said lightly, trying to comfort Sarah. She was unable to stop the tears from falling though.
Soon Sarah's eyes were wet with warm tears. They trickled down her face, and her body trembled. Catherine's arms opened in a comforting embrace and she held Sarah tightly.
“I know you are scared, but we shall look after each other. We are the only friends each of us has, and we must look out for each other,” Catherine said softly.
This only made Sarah weep more forcefully, and had her face not been buried in Catherine's shoulder her wails would have echoed through the camp. Catherine caressed her back in an effort to comfort her and whispered that everything was going to turn out for the best.
Sarah wasn't weeping for that though. She wept because she would have to leave Catherine, who indeed was her only friend. Like Rosemary, Sarah would have to run away and then Catherine would be left to find out the truth from Lord Brambly.
Sarah only hoped that Catherine wouldn't feel too betrayed, but her mind was made up. She was going to leave as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
Some time passed as the army organized itself and the men fell into ranks. It was quite a sight to see, and Sarah dried her eyes to witness it. She and Catherine remained behind with the carriages and wagons, along with other servants, squires, and medics.
The air was heavy with the weight of what was happening. A battle was never a lighthearted affair, and the closer it came to beginning the more people grew anxious.
For a moment, when all had been arranged, everything was still. The air was tranquil, and it seemed entirely peaceful. Sarah afforded herself a moment to look around at the surrounding area, at the blue sky overhead, at the lush green trees framing the field, and the bright green grass under their feet. It seemed a shame that such a place of natural beauty would be marred by the ugliness of war.
Then another noise approached. It sounded like the far-off rumbling of thunder, but there were no storm clouds in the sky. The army bristled and there were cries of warning
as the enemy approached. Sarah peered into the distance and saw a huge black mass of bodies storming forward, like an onrushing earthquake.
The air was pierced by their loud screams, and the steel of their swords flashed as they reflected the sun. The sound of a bugle droned nearby, and then the English army charged as well.
Horses kicked up mud, men drew weapons, and Sarah held her breath. The battle had begun.
***
Drew roared as he and Blair charged forward, flanked by their most fearsome and formidable warriors. The English army could be seen across the field, dressed in bright red tunics, standing out against the green of the field.
Drew's heart thumped in his chest. The battle drew near. With every stride of his horse, he was closer to the war when steel would clash against steel and make a fine song, a song that would ring out across the land.
Soon enough, he could hear the war cry of the English soldiers going up in the air. He has always dreamt of this day, and now it was here. He is going to send the head of Lord Flynn back to his father on a stake.
Being this close to this heated atmosphere made everything else fade into oblivion. The troubles with Deirdre, Blair, and Rosemary matter now. All that mattered was defeating the English and defending their home, and getting justice for Gall. When they left this battlefield it would be covered with English bodies with their heads on spikes.
Looking over at his brother, he saw Blair relishing the act of going to war. This was what he had been born for. All his life he had been a warrior, but he had not been able to indulge that aspect of himself because there had been no war.
Now there was, and he saw Blair in the prime of his life, a perfect soldier, made exactly for battles. He was holding his sword tightly, high in the air, bringing it down, ordering the archers to fire.
Suddenly a shadow loomed over them as hundreds of arrows soared through the air. Each of them rising high, touching the heavens, only to come back down with force and break through the English lines.
Many men fell off their horses to the ground, some horses fell to the ground also and the air was awoken with cries of anguish. But still more English came, and they fired back arrows of their own. Drew felt them fly past him, hitting his fellow warriors.
He looked around but did not let his gaze linger on the fallen for too long. Urging his steed on, he and Blair raced forward to meet the English head-on. They ate up the ground between them and soon his sword met the enemy.
The song of steel rang out and Drew was in the heat of battle. All else was driven from his mind, everything except the man before him. Drew met his blade and parried back with a thrust of his own. In just a few strokes Drew had driven his sword into the man's gut. He slumped over his horse, and the horse ran away.
“Ye are doing well, brother!” Blair called out.
Drew grinned and charged further into the battle.
***
The battle had just lasted a few minutes and there was so much death already. Cries went up in the air almost every second, blades clashing against one another. It was a horrible sight. Catherine just sat there with an expression of shock on her face.
This was her first battle and clearly not what she had expected. Sarah wondered if this carriage was enough to protect Catherine and herself if the Highlanders should win this war. What would become of Catherine and herself?
A part of her wanted them to win, she would rather be a prisoner, than get married to this cruel man. What kind of twisted man wants to get married to his bride after a war, on the battlefield filled with the blood of his enemies? What kind of man subjects his bride to this act of cruelty? She wondered how much she would have to endure being his wife. She was now convinced that escaping was her only option.
***
Entrails hung off the edge of his blade, but there was no time to clean it. He was in the thick of the battle now and this was not a time to lose focus. Other English warriors were already upon him. The haze of blood and guts rose up. The air was thick with the smell of fear and death. Already countless men had died, but it was only the beginning. Thousand more would soon come to their untimely end.
He was going to kill as many English soldiers he set his eyes upon. He would make them pay for killing Gall and all the terrible things they had done to his countrymen over the years. The more he thought about it, the more the rage in him boiled.
A few men charged toward him, with their blade blazing forward, trying to make him fall from his horse. Drew caught their blades with his and used his strength to push them back. Quickly, he slashed through the air and caught one of them in the throat. His sword fell to the ground as he clutched at his throat in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood, but the crimson liquid squirted out.
Drew barely had any time to pity the man as the other soldier was still above him, crashing his sword down. With one hand on the reins, Drew pulled his horse around to meet the blows, thrusting back whenever he could. This solder was more skilled than the others he had slain, but he still wasn't good enough to best Drew. With a quick flick of the wrist Drew slashed at the man's chest, and then stabbed him in the heart.
Blood dripped down.
There was no shortage of enemies to face. Red tunics were all around him and Drew reveled in the battle. He roared mightily, losing all sense of time and space. There was nothing but he and his blade, and the Englishmen who would all suffer because of them. He never thought he would take this much pleasure in killing the English warriors, he would kill as many as he can, he would do this for Gall.
The two armies merged together, bodies and swords clashing. Many men had come down from their horses and were fighting on the ground. Drew charged around them, slicing off their heads as he went. English warriors dropped easily. Occasionally there was another barrage of arrows. Drew could not tell whether they were from the Highlanders or the English.
He'd lost track of Blair as well. In a moment of respite Drew looked across the battlefield for him, but could not see him. He could not see Declan either. There were thousands of bodies strewn across the field, and it would be unlikely that he would find his brother any time soon.
Drew lifted his sword and fell back into the fight, galloping through the English army, leaving as many death and destruction in his path as possible. Although Blair had always held more of the warrior's spirit within his heart, Drew had a deep-seated rage brewing inside him as well, and now he finally let it out. The anger burst out in primal bellows. Rage clouded his mind, and one by one he cut down as many English warriors who came before him.
But this rage came at a price.
Drew gave himself so fully to the rage inside him that he lost some of his sense of perception. There were so many bodies hurtling past him that the world became something of a blur. It was as though he and his sword were one; the blade merely an extension of his arm. He swerved and dodged, parried and struck truly. Nobody could stand in his way, and he stood tall among all the Highlanders and Englishmen. He welcomed more soldiers coming to him, ready to send them all to their graves.
For a long time, Drew’s blade drank of the English soldiers’ blood. He left bodies in his wake as he kept charging towards the heat of the battle.
Then there was a lancing pain through his leg. He cried out and only just managed to hold onto his sword. His head throbbed and his heart beat frantically. Looking down, he saw that a javelin stuck out from his leg. He had been so focused on what was in front of him that he hadn't paid enough attention to everything around him. Then again, it was almost impossible to keep track of everything on the battlefield since there was danger from all sides.
Drew managed to fend off another attack, then reached down to pull the javelin from his flesh. The pain was excruciating. Drew gritted his teeth as he tried to bear it, but the javelin was just a little too low for him to be able to pull it out.
Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword to give himself better purchase, and turned his horse away from the onrushing English soldiers, t
o give himself a few moments of respite.
Drew managed to reach down and feel the warm blood that was seeping out of the wound. He wrapped his fingers around the thick wooden javelin and started to pull, a guttural scream bursting from his lungs. When he eventually looked up, he saw a huge hulking man thundering towards him.
The man was unarmed, but his fists were like clubs, and he smacked Drew in the jaw as he passed. Fueled by the momentum of the horse, the strike was even more powerful than it would have been had the men been standing and Drew slumped over his horse, giving into the encroaching darkness.
His fingers loosened and were unable to pull the javelin. The horse rode away from battle into the thick woods. Without Drew to guide it, the steed listened to its own instincts and took Drew away from the fighting.
Chapter 6
Everything was utter chaos. Sarah didn't know what she was supposed to do. The air was thick with arrows and the ground was wet with blood. War cries and painful screams occasionally pierced the air. Before her, she saw hundreds of men die before the battle had even begun. All of them had sought glory, but only a few of them would actually attain it.