by J. C. Hughes
“Enough!” He stepped in between us. “I think we all know whose side she’s on. She’s chosen an enemy over her own people. What say you?”
The council talked among themselves. It appeared that they had already come to an agreement while Duran and I were busy making fools of ourselves by having a heated row in front of the entire clan.
Slightly abashed by his loss of control, Duran moved aside. It was clear to me that his own sudden reaction had caught him off guard as well. He must have felt the tingles rip through his veins too, even though his chiseled face masked his true feelings.
With Wallace still callously gripping my arm, I waited for the councils’ judgment. Chief Laird spoke up with sincerity in his voice.
“Indigo, I do not concern myself today with the squabbles you have with my son. First and foremost, I look to care for the whole clan before regarding the individual,” he said.
I nodded in agreement.
“So tell me,” he continued, “Did or did you not have sexual relations with a Viking?”
“I did.”
“Did you or did you not know at the time that he was a Viking and thus enemy to our people.”
I felt my Goosebumps erect. “I did.”
“Did you or did you not know that such a relationship with an outsider would risk the safety of our entire community?” Chief Eacharn asked. Everyone held their breath to listen for my answer.
I was ready to tell the truth and only that, however, at that same time, there was a movement in the crowd. Someone had arrived. It was Welda Harth, a haggard old woman who walked with a crooked cane. My Welda. At that point I faced the ground as my confidence sapped. The one person who understood me inside out had come to watch the trial. I knew from the first day she would never approve of my Gurt. I knew from the first day that my love for the Viking would be a secret to all. But now the time for secrets was over.
“Did you or did you not know?”
“I… Is it wrong to love someone? He may be from another camp but his heart is mine. Gurt is such good man, he even wears a kilt sometimes, for me. He would never--”
My voice faded. The disappointment etched on Welda’s face had struck me numb. I chocked and coughed. In the presence of people I did not care for, I could be cold. But in the presence of the wise Welda, I was an innocent child again.
“Answer the question!” Wallace shook me as if I were as light as a rag doll.
I stared at Welda again then studied my feet. Without warning, a well of emotions built up within me. The pain of abandonment I had felt whilst I was only a child being shunned by others on the playing field had returned. The fear that nobody wanted me had been captured and silenced deep in the cage of my heart but at that moment came raging back with renewed fuel.
Never before had I cried in front of anyone yet this time I couldn’t help it. Silent tears fell from my face and everyone, friend or foe, saw me cry.
Chapter Four
The council had made its verdict. I had chosen a Viking over my own people and so I would be treated as an enemy. Wallace was more than pleased to hurl me into my cell. I was to stay there until Gurt was well enough to testify, then the council would decide what to do to the both of us.
As I tumbled onto the cold floor of the tiny little cubicle with neither bed nor window, he shut me inside. I could see his head through the small window at the top of the door. He wasn’t alone. Duran Laird also wanted his share in guarding me. It was obvious he wanted to redeem himself after the embarrassing incident in front of the council.
“I will stand guard,” he said, heated.
“Would you rather watch a harlot sit in her cell or watch your bride to be dancing by the fire?” Wallace asked testily.
After the council meeting, the festivities had resumed. The festive music carried through the night air, however, it was clear that neither Duran or Wallace wanted to attend because of me. I felt suspicious as to why but disregarded it.
“You may want to find a young maiden for yourself as well, so let us both go. Someone else will stand guard,” Duran said.
As a right hand man Wallace couldn’t oppose, so he simply turned and peered at me through the window. A cold chill ran down my spine when I saw the sneer on his face. Wallace had never liked me very much either.
I heard the sound of a fresh pair of footsteps arrive. There was a brief indistinct mumble then shortly after, Duran and Wallace returned to the festivities. With them away from me, I could finally relax. I lay down on the cold floor and thought about Gurt. This was supposed to be our last night together before the Winter. It hadn’t turned out as I had planned. It was only my hope that he would live. Feeling lonely, I sang a soft hymn under my breath then slowly drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.
The night was old when I heard the sound of footsteps again. It stirred me but I didn’t move. The festive music had stopped and the night was silent. I was certain that there was someone at my door, someone who was trying to enter as stealthily as they could. I held my breath. I hoped it would be my aunt Welda. It was not.
The whiff of a drunken man heightened my senses. Could it be Duran? I lay still, hoping that the person would go away. It was silent a moment and I was just starting to relax again when a cold hand touched my ankle. I froze. The unfamiliar hand slid down my feet, to my ankles and then reached out to my thigh. I spun so fast that I hit the assailant on the cheek with my sole. He sprung back and then quickly pinned me to the ground with the force of an animal. Wallace Muir had come back to hurt me.
I tried to scream but my sound was muffled when his rough hand covered my mouth while his free hand groped my inner thigh. My struggles were vain against the well-bred highland warrior.
“Don’t pretend. I saw the way you look at me. I know you want this,” he hissed, his putrid breath making my nostrils flare.
In anger, I bit his hand and consequently got slapped across the face. The pain didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to get away from him. Using my elbows and knees, I launched a futile attack on him. However, when I struck his groin, he recoiled.
“You disgusting animal!” I shouted.
My feet made a run to the door. He rushed after me and this time restrained me harshly against the wall. My heart rocketed against my ribcage in dread. He lifted me against the wall so that my legs were around his torso. With one hand he pressed shut my mouth and with the other, he lowered his pants. I was helpless.
“You are going to like it, I promise,” he said.
Tears welled in my eyes. I studied his face but only saw animosity. To avoid witnessing the horror that was happening to me, I closed my eyes. He would take what he wanted and then he would leave like they all did. And then when we saw each other in broad daylight, he would be disgusted by me and would pretend as though he never knew me. That was how it always was. That was the routine I knew with the men of my clan. Only Gurt had been different with me. Perhaps if I thought of Gurt, it would be bearable. I could just imagine it was him and not Wallace.
Wallace licked the side of my neck and repositioned himself so he could thrust himself inside me. I wasn’t ready for it. I would close my heart and mind. The pain would be there but my memory would eventually block it. His rough hands gripped my soft arms and slowly yet certainly, I felt him pull down my underwear.
Everything that followed happened too quickly. The door was kicked in and I felt Wallace drop me. I hit the ground with the thud. Opening my eyes, I saw Duran Laird throwing a swift punch at Wallace, who staggered backward from the blow.
“How dare you!” Duran punched his right hand man again. Wallace ducked to avoid further blows. Duran was livid.
Abruptly, Wallace straightened. He was in a feat of laughter. Taken aback by his amusement, Duran stopped punching him and studied him closely, his face cross. This seemed to amuse Wallace even more.
“Lighten up. It was a joke!” Wallace cackled. “You should see your face.”
Duran was still furious. “Get out of
here!”
Wallace gave me a low stare, grinned and then left. I breathed heavily. Never before in my life had I been glad to see Duran. He looked at me with a scowl.
“I am sorry,” he said simply and walked out.
As soon as he left, a cold chill enveloped the room. Duran had taken the warmth of safety with him. For the rest of the night, I tried to keep him out of my mind yet when I finally managed to sleep, there he was. Duran appeared in my dreams.
Chapter Five
The days that followed were lonely. I was left only with my thoughts for company. Though my mind was filled with memories of Gurt, I couldn’t quite get Duran out of my subconscious. It didn’t help that he had posted himself outside my cell. If only to protect me against Wallace Muir’s antics. I understood many men but I didn’t understand Duran. He had become so protective that he did not even attend the festivities.
That night as the music played in the distance, Beatrice came to join her future husband at his post. Awkwardly, they hunched together outside my door. I didn’t blame her. It was common knowledge not to let an engaged man anywhere near Indigo McCaith. My fiery eyes and red curls had a way of riveting even the most stubborn hearts but it was my voice that enraptured most.
Under normal circumstances, I would have told Beatrice exactly what I thought of her hypocritical display of love. Yet that night, I was glad to not have to worry about Wallace. In return, I sang them a mournful tune because I knew for certain that they both lacked the passion I had felt with Gurt. I almost felt pity for them. Almost. And so I sang:
“On a cold night, a December night,
Hearts dance by the flames,
Seeking to be burned,
Young lovers dance,
Seeking their passions be quenched,
On a cold night, a December night,
She is alone and bruised,
Her embers have been out by the rain…”
An echo of footsteps sounded. I stopped my song for I knew exactly who was coming. My heart palpitated in anxiety. The sound of old oak wood hitting the ground was one I could never mistake. It was a sound I was accustomed to. It was an echo that had once brought much warmth throughout my childhood but now filled me with dread. Welda was coming.
I heard Duran and Beatrice shuffle upright as the echoes drew closer. It wasn’t a moment later that I saw an old face peer through the window in the door to my cell.
“The night is still young,” I heard Welda say to them. “Do not waste it watching a sitting pot.”
At that, I smirked. Welda had an odd sense of humor and more, no one ever refused her. The sound of reluctantly leaving feet assured me that Duran and Beatrice were gone. Shortly after, the door opened and in came Welda. I wasn’t sure how to react. I had never wanted to keep secrets from my well-meaning aunt but once I’d come to know Gurt, I knew that I could only keep knowledge of him to myself.
“Now you’re scared of me, child?” Welda asked, cheerful.
The dread holding me down fell like a veil. I leapt to my feet in relief and embraced the old woman that I loved so. She hugged me back with the ferocity of a mother hugging a child who’d just returned from battle. Instantly, she returned to her former antics and hit me on the head.
“You silly silly child,” she said. “I turn my head for a minute and there you were challenging the council. Have you no fear?”
“None. I am not afraid, though admittedly, I am ashamed,” I said.
Welda cupped my young face in her old hands. “There is nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to love, my dear. You love him?”
I nodded shyly. Welda grinned a toothless grin. Together we dropped to the ground and in so doing I tried to hide my plate of untouched food. She didn’t miss it.
“You did not eat.”
“Why eat when the heart is grieved?” I said, feisty again.
Welda laughed. “The same ferocity I once saw in your mother. You should eat. Of what use is a heavy heart and an empty stomach?”
I didn’t respond. She was trying to relax me but my mind was far from tranquil. I was anxious about Gurt’s condition. Welda knew what I wanted to know but found it more entertaining for her own purposes to beat about the bush before getting to the point. I had no patience left yet knew better than to rush her.
Besides, even though she was a parent to me, confessing my feelings out loud made me cringe in embarrassment. I was proud of Gurt, in all his forms, yet I couldn’t ignore the vile that had come from his people. The highlanders hated them for very good reason.
Welda squint her old eyes as she remembered something from the distant past. Whatever it was seemed to amuse her. “You and Duran used to be so close when you were wee little,” she divulged.
I snorted. It was a difficult image to conjure.
“Your mothers were best of friends,” she said.
“Yes. Yes. I know the old tale.” I was impatient. “My mother and his mother were like sisters. He and I were weaned together. My mother disappeared one day and no one took me in. Not even them. I ended up with you. I love you but you but I know all of this.”
“That’s not my version of the story.” She giggled.
“Stop toying with my heart and tell me. Will he live?”
“Your Viking lover, oh, he’s strong.”
“Please, allow me to see him.”
This time the light in Welda’s eyes faded. She pretended to study her cane if only to hide it but I knew her so well. She knew something that I didn’t.
“I weighed his heart, my child.” She shook her head in disapproval.
Immediately, I jumped away from her as though she were the enemy. Welda was wise but at that point I did not want to hear what she had to say because I knew it would not favor me.
“No! You cannot say he is a bad man. You do not know him. He is kind, he is gentle, honest--”
“Listen to me.”
“If you’ve come to chide me, I apologize because I will not listen to you. I love him and he loves me.” My defensive nature was taut.
Silently, aunt Welda rose and without another word, left. I bit my forefinger to stop myself from screaming. It hurt me to disappoint the only woman who loved me as her own. But when left with two choices, I decided the love that made me feel alive was the one that I wanted.
When Welda left, she did not close the door. I was sure it was on purpose. Nonetheless, I was glad. The night was young, so of course everyone was at the festivities. The night was young, so of course no one was on the looking out for me. The night was young so, of course, I was going to see my lover.
Chapter Six
Gurt Montgomery appeared broken. He was lying on a mat and facing the wall of his cell when I snuck up to him. There were no sentries at his door either, which was not unusual with the festivities going on and he was still under the healing care of Welda. From the distance I could see the red wound on his neck where the arrow had pierced him slowly healing.
I opened the door quietly and stepped in, making sure that my bare feet made no sound to steer him. Then with the agility of a deer, I sunk down beside him and laid my soft body against his bulk. Softly I ran my fingers along his muscular arm and up toward his neck. As I made to touch his face, Gurt arrested my hand. He was wide awake.
“I missed you,” I whispered and kissed the hairs on his nape. He didn’t say anything so I assumed he hadn’t heard. “Love?”
Slowly, he turned to face me. I beamed even though my face was also etched with concern. To my utter disappointment, his features bore nothing but cold regard for me. The hot blooded Viking was gone and in his place was a cold man who regarded me just like every other man I had bedded had. Instead of feeling warmth, a cold rush overwhelmed me like a virus spreading through my veins.
“Gurt.”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
I was confused. “I am here for you.”
“And everybody else?” he asked, gruffly. I blinked, uncertain of what he was talking abo
ut. “The guard at my door, he told me of the nights he spent in your chambers. How you opened yourself to him and others like him.”
“You already knew that. Yet you also know my loyalties are with you. My heart is with you. I am with you!”
Gurt contorted his handsome face. It was clear my presence disgusted him. A well of anger built inside of me. What about all the promises he had made to me? I had made myself a fool in front of the council for him and even so, my people had treated him with respect even though they despised his kind.
“Do I mean nothing to you?”
It was shocking to me how aloof he had become. That was not how I wanted it to be. I imagined he had been brainwashed. They had told him not to love me, that was why he was acting like that. That was why he was rejecting me. That was what I wanted to believe.
Unexpectedly, he stood up. I got up as well, straining my neck to study his eyes. They bore no expression. I couldn’t read him until he spoke.
“If you really love me, then you will help me escape.” He said this seriously and I stuttered, unable to give a lucid answer. “You said you loved me, didn’t you?”
“I do. I have proven that.”
“Then you will help me run away.”
“But--” In my hearts of hearts, I did not want him to go away. I wanted to spend the winter with him even if it meant we would both be behind bars. Yet I said, “Only if you promise to return to me.”
Gurt smiled at me for the first time since my arrival. He extended his hands to me but any warmth I had felt at seeing him had already fled. It was no longer pain of knowing that he would be gone for the winter, but the ache that came with knowing that he was using me. Helping him escape could lead to my exile and I was positive Gurt was not going to welcome me into his community. That was a conversation that had been shot down and killed a long time ago. He was going to leave me, just like everyone else.