by Barbara Bard
His mind spun plans and stratagems as he continued his path through the night, leaving the village behind. Following the stars, he made his way back to the estate. Soon they would realize he was gone. The time to strike was approaching. But unlike last time he would be patient. He would be more like his father. He would truly live up to the name of the Blue Thistle.
Chapter 12
Rebecca had been so distracted by the whirlwind of events that she had forgotten it was time to eat. Pale of face, she groaned when she saw Elayne approach her and drag her away to the kitchen, where dinner was being served.
Rebecca's appetite had vanished because of her encounter with Lord Flynn.
Elayne was curious about what happened and asked her a hundred questions as they took their seats, but Rebecca was stunned into silence. Bowls of soup were served. Rebecca breathed into the heavy scent of the soup and looked at the chunks of vegetables swimming in the thick liquid. It was a hearty meal, and she broke off a piece of her bread, because eating was better than talking.
Others looked at her with curiosity, wondering why Ellen had led her away. Rebecca kept her head down and forced herself to eat.
“Come on Rebecca don't be so coy, I know that you have plenty to tell,” Elayne said.
Rebecca glanced around at the servants sitting around them. They were engaged in their own conversations, but often glanced surreptitiously towards Rebecca, hoping to pick up on anything she might say.
Dinners like this were always filled with gossip, and the servants often knew more than the nobles who lived in the estates. Rebecca kept her lips sealed however, for she didn't want to risk letting anything slip. Thankfully, there was another servant at the table who had interesting information.
“I saw the horses return. They had dead bodies slumped over them,” he began, enjoying that the attention was on him. “I had to drag them off. It looked as though it had been quite a fight. The men were slashed, and shortly after that another patrol came back and told us that they had found the rest of the dead bodies. I can't believe that a group of men as well-skilled as that were defeated so easily, without causing any casualties of their own,” he said.
“This is a grim time indeed. Lord Flynn is not going to be happy. I have heard that he has already given the call for war. It seems as though history is repeating itself,” Adam said. He sighed and shook his head. He was an older man and had been in service to this estate for all his adult life.
“I remember the first war,” he said, “and the toll it took on the land. I feared for our fate when the younger Lord Flynn seemed hellbent on going to war just to follow in his father's footsteps. I had hoped that this madness would end when Lord Flynn returned, but it seems as though we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of history.”
“Surely you don't think Lord Flynn should simply let his daughter leave or let his son's death lie without being avenged. He must do something!” another servant said.
“Perhaps, but violence only leads to more violence. More people will die, more deaths will need to be avenged, and it will never end. Eventually somebody will have to lay down the gauntlet and let go of the anger. I had hoped that with Lord Flynn's ambitions turned southward he would ignore the Highlands. If his son hadn't died perhaps things would be different, but I fear that one day these halls will be stormed by rampaging Highlanders, and none of us shall be safe,” Adam said.
“I should not worry. The war will be far from here,” another man said. Many of the younger people seemed to agree. Elayne looked pensive though, and Rebecca didn't think there was much truth in the words. She had learned much over the years, and it was clear that the last war had had effects reaching across the land, affecting the lives of people who didn't even fight. Nobody came out a victor in war.
The debate grew stronger, and Rebecca noticed Elayne growing more tense as each moment passed. Eventually she pushed herself up and ran off, leaving the remnants of her soup in her bowl. Rebecca got up soon after and chased after her.
She found Elayne outside, on the edge of the gardens, sitting on a bench, sobbing. The evening dusk had set in and the sun had relinquished its celestial throne to the moon. The bright flowers were cloaked in darkness, but still looked beautiful. The estate was quiet when compared with the noise during the day. Nearby, a fountain trickled. The two of them were alone.
“What's wrong?” Rebecca asked, taking a seat by her friend. Elayne wiped her eyes when she became aware of Rebecca's presence.
“Nothing,” she said, turning her face away, ashamed of letting Rebecca see her in this state.
“Elayne, there's no point lying to me. I know that something is wrong. Is it about your parents?” Rebecca asked.
Elayne nodded.
“All that talk of the war just reminded me of everything we lost, and how impossible it is for me to regain it. I want to be a good daughter, but I don't know how it's going to be possible to reclaim the lands my father lost.”
“What exactly happened?” Rebecca asked. Elayne had often spoken to her about the fall of her family, but she had only spoken about the consequences, not about what had caused this fate to occur.
She sighed and looked up to the stars. “All I remember is that one day we were living in a grand house, then another we were forced to leave and live in servitude. From what my mother said, my father had been in battle and had been incredibly wounded. He thought he was dying, and to save his life he promised anything, including the deed to the land. Somebody tended to his wounds, made him sign a contract, and apparently that was binding. The man saved his life but took everything he owned.”
“Did you not have any way to challenge this?” Rebecca asked.
“None that worked. We were left destitute. My father died not long after, and he made me promise him that I would reclaim our titles. Mother often said that she wished he had died in battle, for at least then we would have held onto our lands and been able to prosper. We went back to try and plead for mercy, but the man who took over the lands was cruel and told us that we didn't belong there any longer.”
“It pains me to know that there are so many people in this world who are unwilling to help others. The solution seems so simple to me. Why can people not simply give aid to those who need it most. Why are there so many people who are bent on revenge?”
“You agree with Adam then?” Elayne said. Her tears had subsided, but she still dabbed at her eyes.
“I do. It seems strange to me that people would be so eager to declare war when it is only going to end in death for so many people. Surely we would all be better suited if we lived in peace?”
“Indeed, we would, but the world does not work in that way. Those in power do not care about us. That is why I hate being a servant. As soon as we had our titles stripped from us it was as though we were nothing. Nobody cared about us, nobody was willing to help us regain our rightful place. We were nobodies,” Elayne said, her words laced with hatred.
“It is not so bad. Perhaps it is better for your own soul to not be involved with these matters,” Rebecca said kindly.
“Don't you see? We are all involved, but the nobility is making the decisions for the rest of us. My only consolation is that I cannot lose any more than I already have. I wish Lady Catherine had returned so that I could have become her maid-in-waiting. My only recourse now is to get close to Lord Flynn.”
“I would caution you against that,” Rebecca said.
“Why?” Elayne asked, looking at Rebecca. Rebecca wrung her hands in her lap, unsure of how much she should say. Most servants held no fear about speaking against their employers between themselves, but Rebecca saw her position as precarious already, and she did not want to say anything that could change that.
“Rebecca, what happened today?” Elayne pressed.
“I was taken to see Lord Flynn because he wanted to know what I knew. I wasn't able to tell him anything of use, but I saw him when the men returned with news that the horses had come back with the dead bodie
s. Lord Flynn flew into a rage. He holds no affection for his daughter any longer. He holds her responsible for what has happened, and he has declared that they shall all be hanged if they are caught. He has no mercy, and I have no doubt that he will not be satisfied until the entire Highlands are covered in fire.”
“Perhaps it is nothing more than they deserve for all the suffering they have caused,” Elayne said bitterly. Rebecca kept her mouth shut in this instance. It was clear that Elayne blamed the Highlanders for all that had happened to her family. Rebecca did not have much love for the Highlanders, but she didn't think they should all be punished in such a way.
“There are troubling times ahead. The best we can do is to continue with our duties as best we can and hope that God has a good plan for us,” Rebecca said.
Elayne looked at her, disgusted.
“That is why you shall always be a servant. We must take our fate into our own hands. If we don't, we shall never do anything with our lives. You may be meant for a life of servitude, but I am not. I need to do more, and I must act now before this war ruins all my chances,” Elayne said.
Before Rebecca could say anything else, Elayne rose and walked away. Rebecca wished that she could have said something to help, but Elayne's troubles were troubles that had echoed through generations.
Rebecca decided to stay in the gardens for a little while longer, trying to enjoy the peaceful night, for she did not know what the future days held for her. However, she was able to embrace a sense of relief as it seemed that her troubles were over. Now that Lord Athelred was more concerned with finding his daughter, he was less concerned with finding out how she escaped in the first place.
She had no doubt that Catherine and Declan would return to the Highlands as they had intended. Alastar was another matter entirely though. In all likelihood he would travel with them since he was a Highlander too, but Rebecca had to face the possibility that Lord Athelred was correct. If Alastar was a villain, he may well be tormenting the nearby villages. If anything was certain, it was that the promise of war was going to bring chaos to this land, and Rebecca wasn't sure if any of them were going to be free from the suffering that war would bring.
Chapter 13
Alastar walked most of the night until he found a small copse of trees away from civilization. There, he made a bed out of moss and leaves, and rested his head, with his sword by his side. He tired of thinking about the past, for it brought him nothing except pain and anguish. He'd rather think about the future, and his mind was alive with plans.
The first thing he thought was to charge into the estate and challenge Lord Flynn out in the open. The surprise factor would be on his side, and he would likely be able to fight his way into the estate, but once inside escape would be almost impossible, and he would be giving himself right back to Lord Flynn. After having waited so long to escape, he wasn't about to walk straight into a situation where he could easily be captured again.
An alternative was to disguise himself and creep into the estate to kill Lord Flynn as an assassin. If he was careful and calculating Alastar was sure that he would be able to make it through the estate without being captured but killing Lord Flynn in this way would be risky, and unsatisfying. Alastar wanted Athelred Flynn to know who was killing him, and why.
As he thought of all this, he also considered the possibility of simply walking away to the Highlands and continuing his father's good work, but the shadow of the past loomed over him. He knew he would never be able to settle unless he dealt with Lord Flynn.
The night passed slowly. Alastar turned plot after plot over in his mind. Disguising himself seemed the best chance he had, and then he would have to figure out how to deal with Athelred later. The most important thing was getting into a position where he was able to find the man and take his revenge.
Alastar eventually fell asleep for a few hours and woke as the sun rose. Golden light filtered through the gaps in the trees and bathed the world in resplendent warmth. He breathed in the sweet morning air and foraged through the forest for some breakfast, finding some berries and nuts.
His father had taught him long ago how to survive in the forest, and which things were safe to eat. During his forage, he actually found a blue thistle. There was a crop of them
together. Alastar picked up a few, smiling at the reminder of his father. He had made the Blue Thistle a name synonymous with nobility and honor.
Alastar sank to his knees and bowed his head.
“I will make ye proud father. I will make people talk about the Blue Thistle again. After I am done with Flynn, I will continue the work ye started.”
Alastar took the thistles with him as he continued on his journey, walking through the forest until he reached a road, a road that no doubt led to the estate. He walked along the side of the road, making sure that his sword was hidden from view, and that his head was bowed. The last thing he needed was to be apprehended and taken to Flynn.
The morning sun was pleasant. He knew that now he was making his way to the estate he would have to be more careful with whom he spoke. Having a Scottish accent in these parts would send anyone on the alert, and by now he was sure that the dead bodies had been discovered. Athelred would know that he had escaped captivity.
The only remaining questions regarded the people who had helped him, especially the fair girl who had kept him alive. If her part in the whole affair was uncovered, she would be punished, and Alastar could not let that happen. There was much work yet to be done before he could return to the Highlands, where he could go and pay respect to his mother for the first time in a decade.
While he was walking along the road, he came across some merchants. They were a family, but the man looked older than his years, as though the world had been unkind to them. The woman looked tired too. Only the child, a young girl, looked happy. She wore a smile on her rosy cheeks and her gaze took in everything she could see. They were trundling along behind Alastar, their cart pulled by an old donkey, who looked about as tired as the parents. Alastar stepped back to let them pass. The man looked at him and nodded thanks. Alastar watched the cart go by. The two adults seemed to think him out of earshot as they couldn't see him, and he heard them bickering.
“I told you we should have gone south. That's where Arthur and Emily went, and the last I heard of them they were thinking about opening their own shop! Can you imagine that? No longer would we have to travel the land selling our wares, but we could actually have a home!” the woman said.
“Going south is risky. We know the land up here. We know the people. They speak the same language as us. If we go south, we're just as likely to be laughed out of town. Besides, I wouldn't put much stock in what Emily says. She's always been prone to exaggeration,” the man said.
“Risk? What's riskier than being caught in a war? You remember how it was the last time. It's not going to get any better for us.”
“It will when we go to Lord Flynn and promise him that we can help. We can be a part of his war party. He'll need people to carry weapons and supplies for his army. You can stay at the estate, perhaps work with his servants. Then, when it's over, I'll come and fetch you. Lord Flynn will have seen how I helped him during the war and with his recommendation we'll be have more business than ever,” the man said.
“Well, it's nice to know that you've got it all worked out. I'm glad that me and Elah will be able to be servants. That's the life I always wanted for myself. I never should have listened to you.”
“This is the best thing for us. I've thought about a hundred different things, and this is the only way I see us profiting from this whole thing. This war will be good for us. I won't be fighting in it. I won't be anywhere near the fighting. I'll just be sorting out the supplies. Trust me, I'll come back. It won't be like what happened to your father.”
“Don't even mention my father to me,” she said, and then said something else in a whisper. It was too quiet for Alastar to hear. But once they had confirmed they were going to the Flyn
n estate Alastar's ears pricked up.
This was his way in.
He crept behind the cart, thankful that the bickering of the couple was distracting them from perceiving his movements. The cart was high, and it was packed with sacks of vegetables and other items. It was a sturdy cart, and it had evidently served the family well.
Alastar smiled as he listened to their bickering. The woman's hushed voice had returned again to its loud, sonorous tones, and he wondered if part of the husband's plan was to get away from his wife. He remembered his father saying that all good marriages needed some time apart. In fact, the couple reminded him a lot of his parents in the way that they argued. He looked at the little girl, sitting at the front of the cart, and wondered if she felt as he had done.
Perhaps she seemed so intrigued by the rest of the world because she wanted to ignore the bickering of her parents. He doubted they realized how much their arguing would affect her. Alastar had always felt that the disputes his parents had were his fault, because they often revolved around his well-being. Yet they never asked him his opinion. It was probably the same for this girl.