“Father, I am finished now,” Isabelle said cheerfully and looked up at her father.
He grunted and turned back to her. “Let’s go. We are not far. It is only perhaps another day’s journey to the site of The Scots. We will make camp on the edge of the Loch tonight, and then the men can clean themselves, and we can rest before our surprise attack.”
Isabelle nodded solemnly and followed her father out of the door. She saw him eye a few of his men who sat at different tables around the room, eating and watching the other occupants with their beady eyes. She shuddered at their dark looks. They had often turned their sinister eyes to her over the course of the journey, watching her movements, whenever she and Arya were on their own, but she knew that her father would cut the hand off of any man who touched her. So, for that, she had to be grateful. Not every woman was so lucky.
Lord Cutler raised a hand in the air, and made a swirling motion with his finger, as he walked out the door. Isabelle watched in horror as the seated men stood, and a tin of oil was passed around as they doused the tavern. She cried out, “No, Father!” as she saw the other customers’ eyes widen with fear. But Lord Cutler grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her outside.
“I have told you, Isabelle, do not subvert me in front of my men!” His voice was low and menacing, and she knew the familiar look in his eye.
She whispered back, “Father, think of the innkeeper. It is his livelihood! And the people inside? You will not trap them, will you?”
He watched her for a moment and then laughed. “No, daughter. They will be freed. If they can find their way out from behind the flames.” Isabelle wanted to scream and run back for them, but her father knew her too well. He kept her wrist in his hand and passed her to Martin Dorset, who watched her calmly as if nothing unusual was happening. “Take her, Dorset. Put her and Arya into the carriage. Lock the door and be sure they do not escape.”
Martin bowed his head. “Yes, Sir.” He did not look Isabelle in the eye as he took her in his arms and prodded her towards the carriage. She had known Martin as a boy, and to see him now in this role was more than she could bear. As they moved away from her father, Isabelle could smell woodsmoke as the tavern burned, and she heard the footsteps of her father’s men leave the tavern, shutting the door behind them. Cries and screams filled the air as people moved around inside, jumping out of windows, and rushing through other doors to escape the growing flames.
She whispered to Martin through gritted teeth. “You are a fool, Martin. You used to be such a kind boy, so generous and thoughtful. Look at you now.” She struggled against his grip as they walked along. For such a short and rather a plump man, Martin was surprisingly strong.
He kept his voice even and measured as he always did when he replied, “Dear, beautiful, Isabelle, one day, you will see that what your father does he does out of necessity. And he does it for King and country. You should be honored by your connection with him. If he was not cruel and bloodthirsty, then these brutish Highlanders would never learn to respect their King. Your father is their judge and the teacher of lessons.”
Isabelle thought about spitting at the ground to show him her disgust, but it would only cause her father further displeasure. The very sound of his words made her want to shudder. Her father had totally brainwashed this man and forced him into his way of thinking, making him feel like what he was doing was proud and noble. She said nothing else, and Martin opened the carriage door and shoved her inside. “This is for your own good, Isabelle. You will see.”
Once he shut the door behind her, Isabelle banged her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. She growled in rage and slapped a hand against the wall. “How could he do this? These people have nothing!” She felt the shape of the roll in her pocket and wanted to burst into tears at her own helplessness, but she knew that would accomplish nothing. One day she would be able to fight back and not just in secret. Her father would see her for what she truly was.
A few moments later, the door was opened again, and Arya entered, watching Isabelle warily. “You have seen, Mistress.”
“Yes, I’ve seen, Arya, and what a waste it is. I can only hope that no one will be killed in the flames.”
She looked outside and tried to ignore the sound of the fire as it rose higher and higher. Smoke began to fill the yard in front of the tavern, but once it began curling towards their carriage, the horses were led onward, and the whole company was on the move. The carriage turned to the side to continue their path, and both Arya and Isabelle could get a full view of the burning tavern, now wholly encapsulated by flames.
Isabelle watched angrily as the innkeeper rushed out the front and fell to his knees, yelling into the open air. She understood his pain, but she feared that her father’s men might fill his chest with musket balls if he continued. “Arya, my father says that revenge moves in his belly, but now, at the sight of this, my own desire for it grows as well.”
Chapter Three
Eamon’s sword clanged against his brother’s, and after a moment’s pause, he swung around to meet Sean’s blade once again. His brother was an excellent swordsman, and even months hiding away in the woods preparing a village had done little to dull his skill. Eamon tried a new trick he had learned while among his men. He waited for Sean to swing at him anew, and then he dodged it, planting a punch to his brother’s ribs.
Sean bent over, coughing for a moment, and Eamon stood tall, proud of his achievement, and glanced at the other men surrounding them, all in practice, preparing for battle. He wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm. Sweat glistened in his dark hair as it hung to his shoulders. Once Sean had caught his breath, he said, “Brother, ye have improved, and I have weakened, I see.”
Eamon chuckled and helped Sean to his feet. “It is something we’ve learned among my men. We dinnae always play by the proper rules.”
Sean grinned, and then raised his sword high, ready to fight again. Eamon’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and then he fell backward, as Sean’s heavy sword, clanged hard against his own, pushing him to the ground. Eamon lay back, laughing. “I suppose it is nae a laughing matter, brother, but I cannae help but feel I deserved that.”
“Aye,” Sean said, and not unkindly. He paused and looked around at his men. “They are good, Eamon. I think they will hold. But first, we will have tae use the bows and arrows, or we couldnae defeat them. What are swords against bullets?”
Eamon stood up, brushing himself off. “The arrows will decrease their numbers, tae a manageable level. Like I said, we dinnae ken how many soldiers he will pick up from Fort Augustus. I only wish I could meet with my spy before we travel tae the men tae start the journey towards Cutler. I will try tae get word tae him somehow.”
Sean blinked up at the bright sunshine. “I had a thought. We are nae far from the MacManus clan.”
Eamon nodded. “Aye, I met with them on my way here, tae get word of ye.”
“I trust the MacManus laird. He is a good man. We could call upon them tae aid us. They could at least give us a few of their men. They are good swordsmen, good fighters.”
Eamon nodded. “I think it is wise. Perhaps we should begin the journey taenight and meet them. Then, we could prepare weapons with them before we begin heading back towards the Loch.”
“Aye.” Sean waved to Donovan, who was in the middle of a rather heated battle with another of The Scots members. Donovan turned toward him and then had to duck out of the way as a sword moved over his head. He rushed to Sean’s side.
“Sean?”
“I think we will leave taenight, Donovan. Ye may begin preparations.”
Donovan nodded and headed towards the village to speak to Rose before starting what needed to be done.
“Come, brother. I think it is time we eat. We have been at it for hours now.” Sean stalled the other men from fighting, and with wet brows, they gratefully walked back towards their homes for refreshment.
Eamon sheathed his sword. “Brother, I am glad t
ae return tae ye. Although I’d hoped it would have been under better circumstances.” Sean nodded, but he did not reply, and they walked in silence back to the cabin and were met with a distraught Rose. She rushed from inside and wrapped her arms around Sean.
“Sean! Donovan tells me he must prepare the men tae leave taenight! I didnae realize it would have tae be so soon. Is there time enough tae get all ye need?” She looked up at him, her eyes moist with tears, and Eamon stepped back slightly and looked down, reluctant to intrude upon so intimate a moment.
Besides, he could not look at it any longer without feeling that familiar pang of desire. A woman had never looked at him so, with both yearning and true love in her eyes. There had been no one to care anything for him these past years, save his men, and while he had been with many a woman, nothing had come close to what he saw in Rose’s expression. It irked him the way it opened up his heart to yearn for something he knew could never happen. He was a broken man and had done many horrible things. There was no chance for love now.
Sean gripped Rose by the shoulders. “We must, my dear. Does it nae comfort ye that we go for aid?”
Rose continued to cling to him, but she nodded in understanding. “I know. It is wise, Sean. They are good people. I am sorry. It is the baby that makes my nerves feel frayed. I dinnae know what I would do without ye if ye were tae fall.”
Sean locked eyes with his wife, and Eamon was touched by the strength and confidence in his brother’s voice. “Ye will be strong and take care of our little one. That is what ye would do, Rose. Now, come, my love. There is nae time for tears and sadness on my behalf. We must prepare and think brightly of the future. Once this Cutler is out of our lives, our village can be made complete.”
Rose nodded and smiled once Sean wiped a tear from her cheek. “I shall assist, Sean, and make sure all the weapons ye need are taken with ye. But we will keep some here tae defend against any extra attack.”
Sean chuckled. “That is why I love ye, Rose. Ye are a fighter. I only wish ye could join me in this battle.”
Rose sighed and glanced at Eamon. “Aye, I wish that too. Sean, Eamon, there is food inside the cabin. Take yer fill. Ye will need it. I will go tae speak with Donovan.”
Eamon nodded sharply. His new sister’s leadership was evident. While she was concerned for her husband and for her unborn child, there was a strength there that Eamon could see in the set of her jaw and the flash of her eyes. He respected that. Sean took Eamon by the shoulder and led him indoors.
* * *
A few hours later, Eamon left the cabin to go make himself useful in preparations. He inspected swords for damage, counted the supply of arrows, and filled leather water pouches. He even counted those who would accompany them, and twelve made up that number, a mixture of men and women. Some stayed behind to watch over the young families.
He would have griped at the inclusion of women, but in this group, he knew what sort of reaction he would receive if he made any complaints. He had never seen a woman fight before, and so he had no idea what to expect. The uncertainty scared him. He pushed it aside and ended up in the stables, brushing and readying his horse. He smoothed the bristles over her chestnut coat and spoke to her in hushed tones.
He loved his horse, but it was also an excuse to give Sean and Rose more time to have a proper goodbye. He did not want to be the one to prevent his brother from a last moment with his new wife if that was what it would be. He whispered, “Aine, we will be off tae another battle. This time it’s a right bastard of a man. I hope we can crush him under yer hooves, lass.” He laughed and laid a soft kiss on her nose.
“Ye will keep us safe, will ye nae, Aine?” He put the brush away in his bag and looked up to see Sean watching him, one dark eyebrow raised.
“Brother, I see ye have a heart.” Eamon froze for a moment, embarrassed to have been caught in such a sentimental moment.
He cleared his throat. “Aye, I didnae leave it behind, although I tried.”
No one spoke for a moment before Sean said, “Come, the men are ready tae leave. Bring yer horse out.”
Eamon nodded and began to saddle Aine, the sound of worn leather stretching gave Eamon a little comfort. Sean paused at the doorway and turned back. “Thank ye, brother. For giving me time with Rose.”
Then he left, and Eamon smiled to himself. He clucked to Aine conspiratorially, and then in ten minutes, he met the group by the edge of the village. Sean was facing them on his horse. “Scots, I ken I am nae yer true leader, but I ask ye tae come with me now and fight for our freedoms. Lord Cutler comes tae kill us all and wipe clean our names from the face of the Earth. I ken ye have worked hard for yer freedom from our past life. I want that for ye just as much as I want it for myself and my family. Come. Fight one last battle against our hated enemies. ,When we return, we will build our village of peace!”
The men and women cheered in response to Sean’s rousing speech, and Eamon followed after Sean as he trotted down the hill towards the thickness of the forest. Eamon rode alongside his brother and said, “Yer people follow ye instantly. They have nae qualms about their imminent death.”
“They are brave souls, but I fear that their resolve may weaken. Many of them have been fighting for this village for a long time. They wanted out of the fighter’s and the robber’s life. They only wanted Peace. We shall see who remains in the end.”
Eamon felt a sick sense of dread creep over him at Sean’s dark words, but he kept his eyes on the path, gripping the leather reins in his hand. They would meet his men soon, and hopefully, they would give Sean the extra hope he needed. It was not a far road to the MacManus clan, but they had to make it through the dense forest first, and it darkened the air around them even in the light afternoon sun. It created an ominous shroud as their horses cantered downhill. The earlier cheer of the party was subdued by the heaviness of the forest air.
The trees were lined on either side of the path, and their branches intertwined thickly overhead until the sun was nearly blocked out. All were silent, and Eamon said quietly, “I wonder why ye made yer village so close tae such a place. It gives off a foreboding air. Many wouldnae dare tae walk through it.”
Sean smiled. “Aye, that was the point, lad. I had hoped tae dissuade my enemies from continuing through. The only problem is we must cross through it if ever we need tae travel. We didnae think of that so much when we built.”
Eamon laughed, and his short burst of mirth felt odd in such a melancholy place, but it lightened his own heart. He did not want to think of death, his own, or his dear brother’s. He would prefer if he had to die, for he knew he deserved death long ago, but for some reason, something lingered in him that told him his time was not yet done.
That bolstered his courage for a while, and he clicked Aine into a quicker pace as they finally entered through MacManus clan borders. “Brother, once we arrive, I need tae send out a man tae give word tae my men tae meet us, as well as see if he can find anything of the boy or Cutler’s men.”
Sean nodded. “Aye.” He called Donovan forward. “Donovan, send out Gareth. He needs tae ride tae the closest tavern tae give word tae Eamon’s men. Tell them we will meet them at first light outside the tavern.”
Eamon added, “Also, tell him he needs tae ride toward the main road and see if he can spy Cutler’s men or even my spy. If he does so, then tell him we will meet Cutler tomorrow, but ask if there is any news.”
Donovan nodded and rode back towards another man in the group.
Sean and Eamon spun back to hear a booming voice. “The Wanderer has come tae call, I see!” Dougal MacManus, a very large man in both girth and height, opened his arms wide at the sight of Sean, Eamon, and the rest of the men. Their horses were paused at the edge of his village, a stone fortress looming in the background, and Sean dismounted.
He bowed before the older man and said, “Laird MacManus, I come bearing news, and I’m afraid it is nae good news.”
Dougal patted Sean on the back and tur
ned him towards the fortress. “When is it ever good in these parts, lad? Bring yer men. We shall feast taenight. Ye will stay with us?”
“If it is nae too much trouble.” Sean motioned to Eamon, and Eamon alighted quickly, handing Aine’s reins to the man beside him. Eamon walked up beside him, and Sean said, “Laird, this is my brother, Eamon Wilson. He has come tae give us the warning of which we need tae tell ye.”
Dougal frowned, watching Eamon. He stared level with Eamon for a while. Eamon knew he did not look the part of the upright man, but there was nothing to do about it now. He had tied his hair back in an attempt to seem less roguish, but it apparently had no effect. “Come inside, men. We shall discuss taegether over food and wine.”
They wandered through the fortress, and Eamon was amazed at the sight. He had not been in an impressive building since he had left his family years before. Fires were crackling in the hearths, and servants were moving about hurriedly, performing quick tasks before moving on to another. Dougal waved a young man over and said, “Boy, make sure The Wanderer’s group is seen to food, drink, the stables, and provide them places tae sleep. There are women in the company. They must be separated.”
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 3