by Barbara Bard
“My lord,” he said as he handed the parchment over to Finlay.
Finlay opened the parchment and read the message. He let out a sigh when he read the words that had been inked on the paper.
“Come,” he said to Christian. “Let us converse inside.”
Christian was given a mug of water as he sat down at the table inside Finlay and Isla’s cottage. Gavina stood in the corner, Eamon and Rose lingering near her and speaking in hushed tones as Finlay spoke to Christian.
“This Sir Jessup,” Finlay said. “He seeks to destroy us.”
Christian nodded. “He mounts an offense as we speak, my lord. Lord Torstein wishes to know what you wish to do about the matter.”
Finlay stroked at his beard as he turned his gaze to his wife—the leader of their clan. “What dae ye think, me love?”
Isla folded her hands, her demeanor reflective of a woman in charge. “Sir Jessup does nae ken of our location, does he?”
Christian shook his head, “No, my lady. He does not. But Lord Torstein fears that he will soon learn of the secret pact that he and the members of your clan are engaged in.”
“What concerns me is that ye now possess this information—a Sassenach knight that we hae never heard of before.”
“Lord Torstein has only recently made me aware of this pact, my lady.”
“And why does he trust you?”
“I share Lord Torstein’s goal for peace. And I do not agree with the methods that our king has employed in order to make that peace. He seeks war, not a truce.”
Isla took a long moment to deduce if Christian’s intentions were pure. She did not trust the Sassenach, and the reasons were plenty. But she knew that Lord Torstein would not send just anyone in his stead, and this young man had the eager eye and voice of someone looking for a lasting peace as they did.
“What can we do?” she asked her husband. “How can we resolve this matter?”
Finlay thought for a long moment. “If Lord Torstein fears that Sir Jessup is close to discovering the truth it must be fer a reason. I fear that war is imminent.”
Isla looked at Gavina. “Take the children outside,” she said. “They dinnae need to be witnesses to this.”
Gavina nodded and shooed the children outside. Her and Christian then briefly caught glances, both of them unable to help themselves from noting the handsome qualities of the other as they did.
“What does Lord Torstein suggest we dae?” Finlay asked Christian.
“He believes,” Christian said, “that a truce may be in order. He thinks that if the proper negotiations are made, a permanent peace with Sir Jessup can be established.”
Isla huffed. “He cannae possibly think that will work. Sir Jessup will ambush us the first chance that he gets.”
Christian held up a finger. “I do not believe that to be the case, my lord, my lady. Lord Torstein believes that there is a guarantee to obtaining this proposed truce with Sir Jessup.”
“And what does that look like?” Finlay inquired.
“Lord Torstein will have to confer with Sir Jessup but he believes that if we present to him the fact that war between our people will only serve to dwindle our numbers, he will agree to end this campaign. Again, if he can convince Sir Jessup to this, we can meet at a neutral location to discuss the terms.”
Finlay looked to Isla. “We maist discuss this at length.”
Isla nodded then looked to Christian. “Will ye excuse us fer a moment?”
A nod. “Yes, my lady,” Christian said as he stood and left the cottage.
Finlay waited for Christian to leave before speaking in hushed tones to his wife. “What dae ye think?”
She shook her head. “It seems tae good tae be true.”
“But if there is a possibility that this peace can be established, perhaps we should take Lord Torstein up on his offer. We both ken that we cannae hide in the shadows fer long. This pact with Lord Torstein was bound tae come back tae haunt us.”
Isla stood, pacing and frustrated and wishing that the answer was a simple one. “I dinnae hae a good feeling about this, me love.”
“I understand. But we maist try. We can prepare ourselves and take the proper precautions. But I leave it tae yer discretion, me lady.”
Isla looked lovingly at her husband. She was unsure. But she knew that a decision would have to be made.
Outside their cottage, Christian lingered near Gavina as she distracted the children with the horses tethered to their post. He approached her, cautiously and curiously. He could not help but be mesmerized by her beauty, but he could immediately sense and apprehensive quality in the way she composed herself.
“My lady,” he said with a half bow.
Gavina turned her head, her heart skipping a beat when she laid eyes on his rugged and chiseled features. He was a thin man but based on the bulges in his tunic she knew that he had a sinewy body that was agile and healthy.
“Ye are a Sassenach knight, aye?” she said.
Christian answered her with a nod. “Yes, my lady.”
She shook her head. “I am nae lady. Me sister is. I am merely a warrior.”
Christian pointed to the dagger stuffed in her belt. “I can see that.”
“Good. Then ye ken that I will cut yer throat if ye attempt tae dae anything.”
He held up his hands in submission. “I wish you and your people no harm. I seek the same things that you do.”
“Peace?”
“Yes.”
She huffed. “I hae learned nae tae trust the Sassenach. The crivens that hae been brought upon me people hae made me that way.”
Christian sighed as he watched Eamon and Rose giggling and playing with the horses a short distance away from them.
“It is more than understandable. Believe me, I wish that I was not born into the country I was.”
“So ye are a traitor tae yer people?”
Christian opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Instead, he took his time, took a step forward, and said: “Again, I wish you and your people no harm. I am sorry if I have offended you.” With that, he turned and lingered back toward the cottage.
For a moment, Gavina felt the conflict arising inside of her. She despised the Sassenach just as much as the next Highlander, but there was something about this particular knight that had an appeal—she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was that made him so appealing.
“Christian,” Finlay called from the door.
Christian approached. “My lord?”
Isla came to Finlay’s side. “We will take Lord Torstein up on his offer,” she said. “Tell him that we will agree to meet Sir Jessup and discuss negotiations.”
Christian smiled. “He will be pleased to hear that.”
“Does he hae a location in mind for the conversation.”
“Yes, he does. There is a village three days ride from here. Lord Torstein will want to meet in four days, so that will give you one day to prepare yourselves.”
A nod from Finlay. “We ken the village. And we shall be ready.”
“In that village lies a tavern. We shall meet at dusk with Sir Jessup and Lord Torstein.”
“We want only Lord Torstein, Sir Jessup, and yerself in attendance. We want nae other Sassenach tae be there.”
“Consider it done, me lady.”
“Good,” Finlay said, extending his hand. “Then we shall see ye in four days.”
Christian shook Finlay’s hand, nodded to Isla, bid his goodbyes, and mounted his horse. As he left, Gavina wandered not far behind him and watched him leave. The two then briefly connected gazes, and despite the fact that they were both tense and on edge—they both formed the subtlest of smiles that they then quickly hid away.
As Christian disappeared into the horizon, Isla cozied up alongside her sister and said: “He is quite attractive, naw?”
Gavina rolled her eyes and walked away, Isla smiling as she did so and knowing full well that
her younger sister was attracted to the young man.
“He likes her,” Finlay said to Isla.
Isla nodded. “She does as well.”
Finlay then hooked his arm around his wife, kissed her, and prayed that the negotiations would bring forth the permanent peace they had always strived for.
Chapter 4
Lord Torstein approached Sir Jessup’s quarters in the castle with Christian in tow. The torch lit hallway was dark with only the dull glow of the flames adding an ominous quality to the proceedings. It had been one whole day since Christian had returned from speaking with Isla and Finlay, and the time had come to set about establishing the truce that Lord Torstein had strived after for years.
They arrived outside the chamber doors, Lord Torstein knocking once before Sir Jessup’s voice called out: “Come in.”
Lord Torstein entered and saw Sir Jessup, tall and lithe and pale skinned, starring at a piece of parchment that he quickly rolled up and stuffed away into his tunic.
“Lord Torstein,” he said. “What brings you to my quarters?”
“We must converse, Sir Jessup.”
“What about?”
“About this campaign.”
Sir Jessup smiled. “Do we now?”
“Yes, we do.”
Sir Jessup turned and gestured to one of the chairs surrounding a wooden table sporting his weapons and armor. Lord Torstein sat as Christian posted up in a corner.
“What aspect,” Sir Jessup began, “of this campaign do you wish to discuss? I do not have much time. Sir Renly will be here soon to discuss tactics with me.”
Lord Torstein took his time answering. “What I am about to say to you,” he began, “might elicit a sour reaction.”
Sir Jessup flexed his brow—Do tell, his expression seemed to indicate.
“I have recently made contact with the Bairds,” Lord Torstein said. “They seek to establish a truce.”
Sir Jessup tightened his jaw and leaned in. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Quite frankly, Sir Jessup, I think that is a better course of action to take than the one that the king has laid out.”
“The king seeks justice for the death of Lord Henry.”
Lord Torstein shook his head. “Do you understand what Lord Henry did? Do you realize that he was the one that brought about his own demise?”
“The Highlanders still must answer for his death. Justice must be served.”
“They will have to answer for what happened. But we both know that if we start a war it will be one that will bring about the destruction of not just their people but our own.”
“Casualties of war are a certainty. It is the cost of peace.”
“No. It is not.” He cast a glance at Christian and remembered his words from two days prior.
“Violence merely breeds more violence.” He leaned in. “Sir Jessup, we have embarked on this campaign for some time now. We have lost many men. We have lost our civility. If we follow through with the plan that the king has set forth, I fear that it will destroy us. You are a smart man. You did not rise to the position that you are in because of pure happenstance. You were chosen for your leadership, loyalty, and headstrong decision making. You know that establishing a truce will give both parties what they seek.”
Sir Jessup leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. He took his time before answering.
“It is an appealing notion,” he said. “But it begs many other questions as well.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how you managed to get in contact with the Bairds.”
“I cannot tell you how.”
“Which implies that you have had knowledge of their whereabouts.”
Lord Torstein said nothing—but that in and of itself said everything.
“What would the king say,” Sir Jessup said, “if he learned of this knowledge that you possess?”
Lord Torstein shrugged. “I doubt that he would be pleased. But I have come to you in good faith.”
“What I should do is inform him of this and carry out whatever orders he gives me.”
“And I will not stop you if you do. But again, I know that you are as weary as I am from this campaign. We both wish to return home. But that will not happen if we embark on a war.”
Sir Jessup stood and lingered near the window facing the courtyard below, his troops still training with sheer ferocity for the war they had been promised would soon come.
“You are right,” he said, “in stating that I have grown weary of this campaign. It has been long, burdensome, and without end in sight.” He turned back around. “I cannot guarantee that the king will like this…” he sighed. “But I will meet with your Highlander friends to discuss a possible resolution to this.”
Lord Torstein felt relief wash over him in a wave. He had expected worse—but he had received the best.
“Good,” he said. “That is good. They have agreed to meet with us at a village a couple days ride from here.” He gestured to Christian. “I have designated Christian as my proxy. He sent word to them yesterday about meeting.”
Sir Jessup smiled and set his sights on Christian. “I was wondering where you had gone,” he said.
Christian swallowed his fears. “Yes, sir.”
“And what is your opinion of what Lord Torstein has laid out for us?”
Christian looked to Lord Torstein —"Should I speak?” He wondered silently.
Lord Torstein nodded his approval.
“I believe it is the proper course of action, sir,” Christian said. “We have fought long and hard and it would suit the best interests of all to negotiate with the Bairds.”
“And you met them? You’ve seen them in person?”
A nod. “Yes, sir.”
Sir Jessup pouted his lip. “What are their forces like? Do they have strong numbers?”
Christian, per Lord Torstein’s instructions before they entered the chambers, nodded his head and said: “Yes, sir. Quite a few, which plays to Lord Torstein’s concerns that a battle with them will bring about nothing shy of sheer carnage.”
Sir Jessup folded his hands behind his back. “So be it,” he said, “I will meet with the Highlanders. We shall discuss a negotiation with them.”
“They have decreed,” Christian added, “that only the three of us be in attendance for this meeting.”
Sir Jessup shrugged. “I have no quarrel with that. We shall leave tonight. I will tell my men that we are headed on a scouting mission to squash any suspicions they may have.”
“A wise move,” Lord Torstein said as he stood up. “And I commend you for your actions and words here today, Sir Jessup. What we are about to embark will benefit everyone in the region. We can still allow the king to possess these lands, but we must establish an alliance with the Highlanders in order to do so.”
A nod. “Agreed.” Sir Jessup then extended his hand. Lord Torstein grabbed it with a firm grip and shook. “And I thank you for your honesty, Lord Torstein.”
Lord Torstein then bowed, nodded to Christian, and left Sir Jessup’s chambers. As soon as they were gone, Sir Jessup once more removed the parchment he had put away when they first arrived and stared at the ink on the page. He had possessed that parchment for quite a few years, and the contents on the paper still brought a mist to his eyes.
A knock sounded on the door. “Sir Jessup,” the voice of Sir Renly called out.
Sir Jessup rolled up the parchment and stuffed it back into his tunic. “Enter.”
The door opened a gargantuan man the size of a small mountain entered, his armor clinking as he walked inside, his boots reverberating off the floor from his sheer size. “You wish to discuss an element of the campaign with me?”
Sir Jessup nodded. “Close the door. Make sure no one is listening.”
Sir Renly looked around the hallway, double checked that the coast was clear, and shut the door.
“Sit,” Sir Jessup said. “There is much to discuss.”
Sir Renly
sat in the chair Lord Torstein was previously occupying and noted that there was a devious quality about Sir Jessup’s expressions. “You look troubled,” he said.
“Indeed, I am,” Sir Jessup said. “Dire news has just been brought to my attention by Lord Torstein.”
“What news?”
Sir Jessup shook his head. “It appears that Lord Torstein possesses the knowledge of the whereabouts of the Bairds’ location.”