The Highwayman of Tanglewood

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “I should have well known of this!”

  Faris gasped, breaking from the Highwayman and whirling about to see Kade Tremeshton standing behind her. He brandished his sword, its blade capturing the illumination of the moonlight.

  Panic leapt to Faris’s bosom! The Highwayman was in danger! Her greatest fear for him was at realization before her: in loving him with such desperation, she had placed him in peril. It was for her sake he had appeared. It was for her sake he lingered.

  “The favored chambermaid of Loch Loland Castle in tryst with our favored villain.”

  He threw his head back a moment, laughing with utter triumph. “Secretive lovers, is it?” he asked. “And to think, Faris, I had begun to believe you had set your eye on Lochlan Rockrimmon—”

  “Ye well know better than to scrap with me, Tremeshton,” the Highwayman said. Drawing his rapier, he pulled his black cloak from his shoulders, swiftly discarding it. He was readying for a duel, and the fact frightened Faris beyond imagination.

  “Ah, but it’s I who have taken you by surprise this time, Highwayman!” Kade laughed. “And you so distracted by Faris. She’s has weakened you—weakened your heart, your mind, and no doubt your back.”

  “The lass but strengthens me, she does,” the Highwayman said.

  Kade shouted, lunging at the Highwayman. The Highwayman of Tanglewood shoved Faris aside as he leapt backward in defense, Kade’s blade just missing his midsection.

  Kade laughed. “The blade of a rapier is no match for the blade of a dress sword, Highwayman,” he said. “It is a wonder you wield such an archaic weapon.”

  Faris watched as the Highwayman tipped his head in consideration of his rapier. “It is, in fact, a treasure of me family,” the Highwayman said. “And though it has served me well in besting you before—” Faris stepped back as the Highwayman of Tanglewood tossed his rapier to the ground at her feet. “Perhaps I should match a heavier blade with ye this night.” Faris eyes widened as the Highwayman of Tanglewood then drew the silver blade of a dress sword from a sheath at his hip. “In fact, it should drain yar blood mooch faster and hurt far worse when I run ya through.”

  At that, the Highwayman of Tanglewood advanced! Kade’s eyes widened with surprise and fear as he defended. The ensuing match of blade against blade caused Faris to stand breathless, paralyzed with trepidation and fear for the Highwayman’s safety. She trembled, winced, gasped, watched the two men duel. It was obvious the Highwayman was the better swordsman, yet he seemed to toy with Kade, allowing him to advance on occasion, playing with him as a cat did a mouse before chewing off its head. Furthermore, Faris sensed her lover was indeed distracted, for he kept glancing over at her as if anxious of her well-being.

  Minutes passed—long minutes, each of which found Faris near to fainting with fear. At last, the Highwayman disarmed Kade, sending his weapon tumbling into the thick heather. Faris sighed, relieved at his besting Kade. Yet she gasped when next the Highwayman of Tanglewood tossed his own weapon to join Kade’s.

  “Aye, but this is not task challenge. I’ve bested ye at swordplay before,” the Highwayman of Tanglewood growled. “I like most to best ye with me fists.”

  Faris looked to Kade’s face—studied the bruising of it, his swollen nose—all evidence of Lochlan Rockrimmon’s fists having already bested the blackguard.

  “You’ll not best me in fists this night, Highwayman!” Kade growled. “For there is in me a deep hatred of you, and it will advance my skill and determination. The stakes are far greater than you imagine this night.”

  Faris shuddered as Kade looked at her. Her instinct was to flee. Yet fleeing may put the Highwayman in further risk somehow. And so she stood helpless, trembling, and terrified.

  “In that ye finally prove ya have one wit in yar head, Tremeshton,” the Highwayman growled. “For the stakes of crossin’ me here this night…may well be yar very life!”

  Kade’s fist led toward the Highwayman’s head. Yet the Highwayman easily avoided it, landing his own powerful fist to Kade’s already bruised chin. The force of the Highwayman’s strength knocked Kade to the ground. Yet his fury was great in having been provoked, and he quickly leapt to his feet. Kade bent at his midsection, rushing at the Highwayman and hitting him square in the stomach with his shoulder. The Highwayman of Tanglewood stumbled backward, and Faris gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. The Highwayman fell hard to the ground, and Kade managed two brutal fists, one to either side of his jaw. The Highwayman of Tanglewood’s great strength rallied, however, and he pushed Kade aside, rising to his feet once more.

  “Me patience is far spent with ye,” the Highwayman said. Faris gasped as the Highwayman’s powerful fist landed at Kade’s left cheek. The great force of the blow sent Kade reeling backward and sprawling to the ground.

  The Highwayman of Tanglewood advanced, crushing the sole of one black boot to Kade’s throat. Faris could hear the villain choking as the Highwayman’s foot kept him pinned on his back.

  “Yar no more than a filthy, maggoty dead skunk, Kade Tremeshton!” the Highwayman growled, his breathing labored from the altercation. “I should slit yar throat and leave ya to bleed out on the ground, I should.”

  “Please! Please!” Kade Tremeshton begged. “I fold! I fold!”

  “Coward!” the Highwayman growled as he delivered a brutal kick to the side of the villain’s head. Kade the Heinous was rendered unconscious.

  With shallow breath and legs weakened from fear, Faris rushed to the Highwayman. She threw herself into his powerful embrace, clinging to his shirt with her small fists, sobbing against the strength of his massive chest.

  “He might have killed you!” Faris cried as the Highwayman of Tanglewood held her against him. The feel of his hands weaving through her hair sent goose bumps rippling over her neck and arms.

  “Never,” he breathed. “Such a coward could never—”

  Faris gasped as the Highwayman stiffened, growled as if in great pain.

  As the Highwayman shouted, “Aye! Aye!” pain constricting his body, Faris looked down to find the cause. Kade Tremeshton knelt beside them, fully conscious and with his hand on a dagger protruding from the Highwayman’s right thigh. The blade was already buried deep in the Highwayman’s leg, but Faris screamed as the villain pulled down on the knife, causing it to tear brutally through the Highwayman’s flesh.

  The Highwayman was yet the more powerful man. Even for the great agony of the wound, he reached down, covering Kade’s hand with his own. Overpowering Kade’s own strength, the Highwayman of Tanglewood pulled the dagger from his leg, twisting the weapon in Kade’s hand, and drawing it quickly across the villain’s throat. Kade Tremeshton’s body fell limp and lifeless to the ground, his blood staining crimson the heather beneath.

  Yet there was other blood seeping into the heather—the blood of the hero Highwayman of Tanglewood.

  “He’s—he’s finished me,” the Highwayman breathed as he collapsed to his knees, blood streaming from the wound at his leg.

  Panic overtook Faris! She could not think with any coherence! She could not think what action to take! He would die—bleed out in the ruins of Castle Alexendria! She would lose him to heartless death’s whim!

  “You need a physician,” Faris said, dropping to her knees beside him. “I must find assistance else you will surely bleed to death!”

  “Ya must help me mount, lass,” the Highwayman panted. He was breathless and in obvious, excruciating pain. He whistled, and his great black steed appeared from just beyond the ruins. “I-I must get ya safely back to Loch Loland…and meself to some assistance.”

  “I will see you mount,” she told him, brushing the tears from her face. “But we will seek a physician at once. We will not make for Loch Loland!”

  Never before had the Highwayman seemed so massive in his size. He was weak, and it gave him great difficulty in mounting.

  “Where do I take you? Is there a physician you trust?” she asked him. She was trying to
be brave, trying to be calm and strong, but in truth she was afraid she would faint into a despair.

  “The harse will know where to take us,” the Highwayman whispered. Even for the dark of the night, Faris looked at the blood spilling from the Highwayman’s wound. The loss was quick and profuse. She feared his blood would be spent from him long before they reached a physician.

  As if having read her thoughts, the Highwayman said, “Ya must tear a strip from yar petticoat…tie it about the wound to slow the bleedin’.” His voice was weak and strained.

  Faris struggled to tear a long strip of cloth from her petticoat. Her hands trembled and she found she had difficulty drawing breath. Yet she was successful and tied the cloth tightly around the Highwayman’s leg just above the wound. Leading the Highwayman’s steed to a nearby rock, she mounted behind her lover. For a moment, Bainbridge Graybeau’s face passed through her mind. She was more confident on horseback because of his lessons in riding, and she whispered her thanks to him on the night air.

  Reaching around the Highwayman’s massive form, Faris took the reins, digging her heels hard into the horse’s flesh. They were away at once—away toward Loch Loland Castle! She could see it in the distance—a dark silhouette against an amethyst sky. Its warm-lit windows beckoned—yet there was no physician at Loch Loland.

  “He makes for Loch Loland,” Faris said. “But there is not help there!”

  “He knows where to ride,” the Highwayman said.

  But who at Loch Loland would help them? Faris knew surely that each soul at Loch Loland Castle was in support of the Highwayman of Tanglewood and his deeds of righting wrongs. Yet would any there risk attending him? She thought of Lochlan—of his knowledge Faris was in league with the rogue of the Tanglewood Forest. Yet would he help Faris’s lover?

  All of a sudden, Faris felt the Highwayman go limp. She managed to rein in his beast of a steed only a moment before he slipped from his saddle, landing weak and nearly unconscious on the ground.

  Faris slid from the saddle, assisting the Highwayman as he struggled to turn to his back.

  “You must remount,” she told him. “We must find a physician or you will surely—”

  “I—I will wait far ya here. I will wait here as ya go to Loch Loland far help,” he said.“Loch Loland?” Faris exclaimed. Indeed, as she looked up, Loch Loland loomed close—a near stone’s throw. Faris feared for the Highwayman’s safety—feared his being revealed to anyone in Loch Loland. Yet he would bleed out if she did not find assistance soon!

  “Leave me here, Faris,” he breathed.

  Faris wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to calm her terrified trembling. “I cannot possibly leave you,” Faris sobbed.

  “Off with ya, lass,” he breathed. “Run to Loch Loland Castle now and bring me yar man Old Joe. He’ll—he’ll know what to do.”

  “Old Joseph?” Faris asked rising to her feet. “Are you acquainted with him? Is he to be trusted?”

  “Aye,” the Highwayman said. “He is much trusted.”

  Old Joseph! Of course! The wisest of men was Old Joseph! If there was anyone nearby to help, it was indeed Old Joseph! Yet she could not leave her love in such agony to bear. Already his breeches at his right leg were completely saturated with blood—the crimson life-liquid fairly streaming down his boot.

  “Yet—Faris, wait,” he said. She paused, dropping to her knees next to him, and forcing an encouraging smile of hope that all would be well. “I will be havin’ yar promise first…” he breathed.

  “Anything,” she sobbed. “Anything!”

  “Ye must promise me…no matter what comes to ya…what knowledge…no matter what happens to me…I must have yar promise…ya must promise ya will love me yet—no matter what ya may witness from here forward.”

  Faris melted into sobs. She threw herself against his powerful chest, trembling as she felt his weakened embrace. “Nothing could keep me from loving you. Nothing!” she sobbed.

  “Swear it to me, then,” he breathed, taking her face in his hands and searching her face for sincerity. “Swear to me ya will love me still—that ya will stay with me ever after—no matter what this night may hail upon us.”

  “I swear it!” she sobbed.

  “Then go, now…go for Old Joe of Loch Loland Castle. I am nearly done in,” he whispered.

  Faris knew she could not afford to linger any longer. If her beloved Highwayman was to be saved, she must leave him. She could not bear losing him—he who had so willingly forgiven her, pledged his heart to her. If he died, she was certain her heart would break and kill her in his wake.

  Frantically Faris ran to the servants’ entrance of Loch Loland’s kitchen. Old Joseph spent many a late night in the kitchen. She prayed he would be there on this dreadful one.

  Yet what if it were Lochlan she found there? What if he were lingering there over a warm pie? Even he would help—she was certain. No matter his feelings toward her—whether desire or loathing—he was ever chivalrous, a champion. Still, it was Old Joseph the Highwayman wanted, and she prayed he would be there. Attempting to inhale a deep breath of calm, Faris slowly opened the servants’ entrance to the kitchen.

  The room was dim, kitchen duties long finished. Faris held her breath and prayed for a miracle. As she looked to the kitchen table to see Old Joseph sitting and reading a book, her tears renewed, and she thanked heaven for its benevolence.

  “Joseph!” she called in a whisper. “Joseph!”

  The elderly man looked around, smiling when he saw her. “Why, Faris!” he greeted. “What has you out and about at such a late hour as this?”

  “Joseph, please come to me. At once!” she cried in a whisper. Instantly the old man’s brow puckered with concern. “Quickly, Joseph! There is no time to hesitate!”

  Joseph was on his feet and at the door in an instant.

  Faris burst into tears as she spoke. “You must know of him, Joseph…else he would not have sent me to bring you!” she cried, covering her mouth for a moment. Her distress had caused her to speak too loudly.

  “Who, dove? Whatever is the matter, Faris?” Joseph whispered in return. He reached out and took her shoulders in hand. “Who?”

  “The Highwayman…” Faris stammered. “The Highwayman of Tanglewood. Do—do you know him, Joseph?”

  Joseph’s eyes narrowed, and Faris knew he was uncertain as to whether or not he should trust her.

  “He’s been wounded, Joseph! Terribly wounded…in dueling Kade Tremeshton. These weeks…the Highwayman and I…we…we have been meeting and—”

  “Take me to him,” Joseph demanded. “At once!”

  Making their way through the dark without the aid of a lantern, Faris felt her heart swell with hope when she heard the Highwayman call out as they approached.

  “Joseph!” he called in a whisper. “Quick, man! Ya must spirit me away! If anyone comes upon Tremeshton dead at Castle Alexendria, and I am found to be ailin’…it will throw suspicion me way,” he said.

  “Master Lochlan. What have you stumbled into now?” Old Joseph said, dropping to his knees beside the Highwayman.

  Faris stopped breathing. Her hands and arms went cold—numb as understanding rushed over her like a torrential rain. Her mind ached, pounded as if a drum were pent up inside her head. The pieces of the puzzle in which she was entwined began shifting together.

  “Faris,” the Highwayman breathed. “I—I have your promise. You—you promised me.” Gone was the raspy Irish brogue of the Highwayman of Tanglewood—replaced by the all too familiar and beloved intonation of the commanding voice of Lochlan Rockrimmon.

  Of Secrets and Wishes

  Faris felt her knees give way beneath her. Kneeling before the wounded Highwayman of Tanglewood—kneeling before her wounded champion and lover—she wrapped her arms around her stomach as her body began to heave uncontrollably. She was in love with one man, not two! She was in love with Lochlan Rockrimmon!

  As she sobbed, her body convulsing with emotion, Faris s
hook her head. “No! No! It cannot be!” she cried. Yet she knew it was true. Perhaps she had always known, always dreamt of it, wished for it—always convincing herself otherwise.

  As a rush of realization and memory washed over, Faris struggled to hold to consciousness! She saw it now—all of it! Lochlan Rockrimmon—away from Loch Loland Castle in tending to his father’s business these past two years. Had it not been two years since village folk had begun to share fantastic stories of the Highwayman of Tanglewood? Since his return—since Loch Loland’s heir had returned—had not Lochlan Rockrimmon been absent each time the Highwayman was seen? Even when Lord Brookings of Saxton had been bested? For a moment, Faris’s mind lingered on the Highwayman’s appearance at Loch Loland in the broad light of day. Lochlan had been there—Lochlan himself had been watching as the Highwayman of Tanglewood pinned Kade Tremeshton’s parchments to a tree. Yet Old Joseph knew Lochlan was the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Was it not possible that others knew as well? She thought at once of Bainbridge Graybeau—of his lie. Lord Rockrimmon’s favorite and aged mount Jovan had been stabled when the Highwayman had appeared at Loch Loland. Yet Graybeau had claimed he was not. Graybeau had lied as to his whereabouts at that moment. Could it be Graybeau had ridden as the Highwayman of Tanglewood—and all for the sake of drawing suspicion from Lochlan?