by Barbara Bard
The Highlanders screamed like monsters as they raged into battle. The English met them and the air was alive with the sounds of clashing swords.
Sarah winced, and turned her head away, she could not bear to see such a horrible sight. But just as when she had been young she could not close her ears and had to listen to the horrors of war.
Medics ran forward to aid the men who had been wounded by arrows, while the battle raged in the middle of the field. Sarah forced herself to watch, looking at all the men who were losing their lives. In a way, it was poetic because although there were two opposing sides they were both the same. Both sides were losing men at an alarming rate.
Catherine stood beside Sarah. Sarah felt Catherine's hand slip inside hers and squeezed.
“Is this what you expected?” Sarah asked.
Catherine remained silent for a few moments.
“I never expected it to be so loud,” she said eventually.
“I am not sure how to determine who is winning”, Sarah said as she kept staring at the dead bodies that were already turning to a pile.
“I really hope that your brother makes it out alive. I wish there was a better way to resolve conflict. If only they could just talk to each other. A lot of men have died already and the war just started.” Sarah tore her eyes away from the body as she let her tears flow freely.
“My brother is too proud to talk to his enemies. He doesn’t listen to anyone except father and himself. Even with fathers warning that the soldiers are not ready for war, he still rode them into battle. Now men are dead and will die because of his ego and pride”
The two girls stayed there for a time, watching the battle unfold. The two armies clashed. The red of the English merged with the brown and black cloaks of the Highlanders. Soldiers from each side fell to the ground, horses whinnied and ran off in a panic. Everywhere there were terrible cries of pain and fear. Sarah closed her eyes and was taken back to that time when she was a child, hearing her parents being killed. It was almost too much to bear.
Indeed, it proved too much for Catherine, who turned away and retreated into the carriage. It was evidently worse than she had imagined, but perhaps it was better that she be faced with the reality of war. Maybe it would make her less naive, or give her a better understanding of the world. Sarah thought about going to talk to her, about being a friend, but she realized that this was her moment.
The people around her were focused on the battle. Medics were running through the battlefield, tending to those who had fallen. In some ways those men were even braver than the soldiers, Sarah thought. Guilt pervaded her soul, for she felt that she should do something to help her countrymen, but then she thought about what would happen to her if she were to stay here when Lord Flynn returned.
Steeling her heart, she turned away and clenched her fists. Taking it one step at a time, she walked away from the carriage, turning her back on the battle. Closing her eyes, she breathed evenly and was such a small figure that nobody took any notice. They were all too fixated on the battle, and on all the men who were dying. Sarah took a last look at the chaos behind her and started to walk very fast.
Her heart was beating at an alarming rate that made Sarah scared that it would jump out of her chest. She cut quite an incongruous figure as she was still wearing the dress that had been intended for her wedding.
She avoided looking at anyone else as she walked away, afraid that someone would stop her. As she drew closer to the rear of the entourage she was afraid that she would be held back, stopped by one of Lord Flynn's men, but the call never came. Catherine never came out of the carriage to look for her. Nobody seemed to care about her, and soon Sarah found herself wandering free.
As soon as she was far enough away from the army, Sarah hitched up her dress and ran to the edge of the forest. As she got to the edge of the forest, she was confused as to which path she should take, as they all lead to different places.
She realized that she has not thought things through. She did not have much of a plan at all, only to get to the shroud of the forest and hide away. She wanted to make her way back to England eventually and find a small village in which to live.
She assumed that Lord Flynn would not scour the country for her. He would likely think that she had been taken away by some Highlander. Even if he sent out a search party for her, she hoped to be far gone by then, working as a tavern maid in an unpopular village.
Sarah tried hard not to cry, for she was forsaking everything she knew. The hardest thing was to leave Catherine, for it felt as though she was betraying a true friend. Catherine had been so kind to her and had been so looking forward to their lives together that it seemed a shame to have to deny her that. But Sarah could do nothing else. This was her only way to freedom. Her only way to break free from the lie that had weighed so heavily upon her.
Through the woods she walked, leaves and branches being crushed underfoot. Her heart beat frantically and her breaths were sharp. She soon lost track of where she was going. Looking behind her, she could only see the vague outline of the battle, and the noises were like a far-off echo. It was as though she had entered another world, far from the one filled with death and destruction that she had just left.
The trees were like guardians, protecting her from the war. Their wide, thick leaves hung down, shielding her from the outside world. Sunlight occasionally broke through the trees, but the light it cast was green. Sarah sometimes jumped as she heard a rustling, but was always relieved when it was just an animal. She walked as quickly as her legs could carry her, wanting to get as far away from the battle as possible. The sooner she was back on safe ground, the better.
Sarah tried not to think about all she was leaving behind, all those men who were dying on the battlefield. She wondered if this was how Rosemary had felt when she had left on that fateful night.
The chances of her ever seeing Rosemary again were now zero. If Rosemary had been captured by the Highlanders there had been a chance that Lord Flynn would be able to free her when he emerged victorious, but everything was only a possibility. There seemed to be few certainties in her life.
Pushing through the branches, Sarah began to grow tired. She started to tell herself that she should have gathered supplies. She picked some fruits off a tree and enjoyed the juice as it flowed down her cheeks. Nearby was the sound of rushing water, and she suddenly realized how thirsty she was.
Following the sound, she really had no idea in which direction she was going, but all she wanted was to relieve the aching thirst in her throat. When she saw the crystal water she flung herself to the ground and dipped her hands into the water, cupping them together to bring up a handful. She splashed it over her face and opened her mouth, gulping it down. The water was cool and refreshing. She gulped it down heartily, and then lay on her back, facing towards the sun, smiling and laughing.
Free, she was finally free.
It had been such a long time since she had felt anything like this. In fact, she wasn't sure if she had ever felt anything like it. Even though she had enjoyed being Rosemary's handmaiden her fate had still been locked with Rosemary. She had to go where Rosemary went, and there was nothing she could have done about it.
Her entire life had been tethered to Rosemary, but now she was free from those shackles. She could go anywhere she wanted and be anything she wanted to be. It was almost frightening how open the world was to her.
But it was all hers. She was free of Lord Flynn. No longer did she have to worry about being thrown into a dungeon or hanged until the breath slipped away from her body. It was hard giving up her home and everything she had known, but now she was on her on for the first time in her life. She could make whatever decision she wanted, she would start a new life and maybe even fall in love with a man and marry him. It was a shame to think about how disappointed Catherine would be, but Catherine was strong and would soon find another person to be friends with.
Sarah would too, in time. She would find a small hamlet i
n which to live. She could be a cook or a maid in a tavern and live a simple life, far away from war and far from any kind of danger. It would be a peaceful life, and she couldn't wait for it to begin.
The dress was beginning to cling to her for it was rather warm. She was tempted to strip off and bathe in the refreshing water, but then she wondered if she was far enough from the battle yet. She thought it better to continue moving and increase the distance between herself and the English army, and the Scottish army for that matter. The last thing she wanted was to be captured by them when she was so close to being free.
Then she heard a whinny. She looked up and saw a horse trundling forward. It was huge and black, looking entirely fearsome. Sarah stiffened and crouched down, hoping that the beast wouldn't make any sudden movements.
The horse shook its head and seemed to ignore Sarah. It turned around and bowed its head. A pink tongue shot out and lapped at the water, but that was not what caught Sarah's attention. She gasped as she saw the man atop the horse, slumped over with a javelin protruding from his thigh. A mass of black hair covered his face. There was no doubt that he was a Highlander, but was he dead?
Sarah looked back towards the site of the battle, trying to see if there was anyone else following them, but it seemed as though they were the only two around. She walked up carefully, making sure that each step was slow for she was afraid. This was the closest she had been to a Highlander since that fateful day when her parents had been killed.
The horse didn't seem to mind her presence, not reacting as she drew closer. It was concerned only with getting its fill of water. Sarah wondered if the horse knew what was happening in the war and if it had run away for the same reason as she did. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and stroked the horse. Its head shot back, but it didn't make any threatening movements.
“There's a good boy,” she said, stroking the horse carefully, hoping that it would not storm away.
The only question now was what she did with the body. If she could ride the horse herself, it would be a great boon. She had learned many things from Rosemary, and horse riding had been one of them. It almost seemed like fate that this horse had come to her. It was a sign that she was on the right path.
Having a horse would mean that she could get even further from Lord Flynn's reach, and would not have to worry about being caught at all.
But she would have to get the Highlander off first.
“You just stay here and I'll try and get him off. I hope he doesn't mind being put on the ground,” Sarah said, “and I hope you don't mind giving somebody else a ride.”
The horse whinnied again and then tilted its head to the side, choosing to chew some grass. Sarah rolled up the sleeves of her dress and set her face in a determined expression.
“Right then, you are not going to stop me from getting this horse,” she said, trying to convince herself. With a heave, she pushed the Highlander, but he wouldn't budge. She was surprised at how heavy he was. Stepping back, panting, she stretched her arms out and told herself that she could do this. It wasn't going to be so simple as to push him off though, because he was too heavy.
She had to find a way to work him off. Sarah walked around the horse, examining the Highlander from every angle. First, she considered pulling him off the rear of the horse but then decided that this would be just as difficult as pushing him.
When she got around the other side of the horse she noticed the huge sword dangling from the Highlander's waist. It could prove useful, so she tried to unsheathe it. This proved to be more difficult than she expected, for it weighed more than she expected too, just like the Highlander, and she began to realize that she was either a very poor judge of how much things weighed, or of her own strength.
She had to use all her might to pull the sword out, and when she did the weight of it brought her hands to the ground. The point of the sword pierced the ground, and she was almost sick at the sight of the blood and guts upon the blade. Especially because she knew they were from Englishmen.
Heaving the sword up, holding it with both hands to keep it steady, she prodded the Highlander in the side, trying to work the sword underneath his body to dislodge him from the horse. That wasn't working, and she realized it was because his legs and arms were too long, so she adapted her tactic.
Sarah placed the sword underneath the man's arm and used it as a lever, pushing the arm up and over the man's body. The leg was next, and she chose to move the one without the javelin sticking out of it. She tried not to look at the wound, for it was disgusting. The blood had dried around it and the sight of a piece of wood lodged into the flesh and bone was too much for her to bear. This was a grisly task, and she hoped never to have to think about it again once it had been completed.
Just as with the arm, Sarah placed the sword under the leg and heaved with all her might to push it onto the back of the horse. Sweat beaded on her temples and she almost screamed with the strain. Muscles she didn't even know she had begun to ache, and with a mighty heave she got it up. The sword fell to the ground, and her arms were on fire, but she had done it.
All she needed to do now was nudge the man off and he should fall, for the way his weight had been distributed before had prevented her from simply pushing him off. Sarah breathed deeply, determined to see this through to the bitter end. She had to remind herself that he was a Highlander, although even then she still felt pity in her heart. She had too much compassion inside her not to do so, even though she had more right to hate Highlanders than most.
Indeed, looking at him slumped over this horse she was reminded that he was just a man, no different than the English. They were all flesh and blood, and they all met the same fate. It was sad in a way that so many lives had to be cut down because of this silly war.
Sarah sighed and gave the final push to send the man to the ground, but before she did she brushed away his thick locks and looked at his face. She was shocked to find herself thinking that he was handsome. He was almost the opposite of Lord Flynn, brutish and primal, and yet a deep part of her responded to his physical appearance. Composing herself, she tried to ignore the feeling of blood rushing to her cheeks as she pushed and watched the man tumble to the ground.
With that done, she got ready to climb on the back of the horse herself, although there was no saddle, and thus no stirrups. Sarah looked puzzled, and searched for a rock that she could use as a step. She found one and was about to step up when she heard a groan.
Sarah froze and told herself that she was just hearing things. It must have been something in the forest, or perhaps the horse’s stomach.
Then the groan sounded again, and there was no mistaking what it could have been. She timidly looked around the horse to see the Highlander pushing himself up, shaking the haze from his head.
Sarah's throat tightened. Looking around quickly, she realized that there was nowhere to hide. She rushed out and picked up the sword, pointing it directly at the Highlander. She held it with both hands, and even then the heavy blade trembled. The man rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, throwing his black locks back, revealing his strong, bearded jaw and handsome face. The piercing eyes looked at her, eyes that gazed deeply into her soul.
Sarah felt a strange tingling all over her body but tried to brush it away.
In the fall, the Highlander's cloak had fallen off him, revealing thick biceps. The tingling in Sarah's body only grew stronger. He looked down at his wound and gasped, clamping his eyes shut in pain, then he looked back at Sarah.
“Put that blade down and come give me a hand with this. Dae ye really think I'm gonna dae any harm tae ye?”
His thick Scottish brogue rolled off his tongue in a pleasing, singsong manner, but Sarah was left speechless by the fact that she had been left face to face with the enemy. If she revealed that she was English he would surely take her prisoner and give her a grisly fate, so she remained mute.
And yet, for all her dislike of the Highlanders and fear for her life, she sa
w a man in pain, and her kindness and compassion won over her anxiety. This man needed her help, and she was the only one who could help him.
The man pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned against a rock. He looked at the water longingly.
“Can ye fetch me some water? I need tae clean this wound before it's tae late,” he said.
Sarah wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to use to collect the water, so she searched around, but the man didn't like that. He rummaged around his waist and pulled out a waterskin, which he threw to her. It hit her arm.
“Dinnae waste any time!” he cried, trying to hold the pain in. Sarah rushed to the river and filled the waterskin up, then returned to the man, almost afraid to get too close. But he was in need, and as he said, he couldn't very well do much to her out here.