Labor of Love

by Felicia Rogers

  The guard rubbed the reddening spot. “She has been escorted to the pole.”

  “Very well, let her stay there until the lass wakes. That will be all.” The magistrate waved the man away in dismissal.

  Grant struggled to stay his temper. Why were these two women being burned? In his heart, he knew the answer, and he was none too happy about it.

  The girl hoisted in his arms, Grant faced Nigel. “I think ye have some explaining to do.”

  “Nay, I don’t believe I do.”

  Disturbed by the answer, Grant tried again. “Aye, but ye do. Ye see, it seems this lass here knows something of what has transpired with my brother. And it sounds like from her claims ye might have had a hand in his demise.”

  Nigel calmly placed his hands together across his chest. “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Verra well. I will just wait until the lass wakes and ask her the particulars.”

  “Nay, that will not be possible,” said Nigel, shaking his head. “You see, she is a prisoner of the Queen of England and under my jurisdiction. I will be the only one questioning her and receiving answers. Besides, she is set to burn. There will be no time for an interrogation.”

  “Aye, after the birth of the babe.”

  Nigel frowned, which made Grant extremely happy. He continued, “That being the case, I see no reason why I can’t talk with the lass. Since there will be some time before she is set to die.”

  Nigel shrugged. “If you must. But for now, her presence is needed.”

  “What for?”

  “Not that I owe you an explanation, but to foster goodwill, I will tell you anyway. Her mother is set to burn, and we wish her to watch.”

  Grant’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Why?”

  “Well,” Nigel paused and tapped a finger to his temple.

  “She is already set to burn, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  “That being so, ye can’t really deter her from further criminal activity by forcing her to watch her mother be dealt with. I hardly see how that is a greater punishment than what she is set to experience. Why insist she visually entertain such a sight? Besides if ye are trying to save the babe, then couldn’t witnessing such an event mark the infant?”

  Nigel seemed vastly confused and responded with, “Aye.”

  “So ye don’t mind if I take the lass with me, question her, and bring her back?”

  As if awakened, Nigel snapped from his stupor. “Nay, that would be impossible. The guard will return her to her cell, and I will answer the questions regarding your brother.”

  The lass in his arms stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, and Grant stared at her hoping she would realize he was friend rather than foe. Gently, he said, “It’s all right, lass.”

  She buried her head into his chest. “Nay, it is not.”

  As she snuggled, he felt something kick him−the babe. Extreme distaste for Nigel Duffy overwhelmed him. “It appears I don’t need to wait. She is awake and can answer my questions now. Personally, I have had enough of yer stalling.”

  Before Nigel could respond, Lorcan burst into the room with a question. “What in the world is going on? I thought we agreed she would watch.”

  The girl trembled in his arms, burying her head further against his chest.

  Nigel glanced at Grant then held his hand out to Lorcan. “Perhaps we should go outside for a moment.”

  The guard was given directions to keep Grant and the girl inside as Nigel left. While the magistrate was gone, the girl spoke hoarsely and in rushed whispered tones. “My name is Sorcha, yer brother was my Christian teacher. He taught my village the ways of the Lord. Lorcan, the man who just left, was my stepfather. He became angry at Samuel because he befriended me and my mother, and he turned us over to the English authorities. His son, Festus, murdered Samuel while Nigel sat by and watched.”

  The words hit him like the earth was shifting from underneath him. He set Sorcha on her feet, found an empty chair, sat down, dropped his head in his hands, and wept.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nigel followed Lorcan. Once outside, he pushed him roughly against the wall. “Never barge into my office and tell me what to do again. Do you understand?”

  Lorcan didn’t back down. “So ye don’t care to talk to me like the wee little farmer who helped ye impress the Queen, but ye don’t have the backbone to stand up to the well-dressed Scotsman.”

  “Oh, shut up and let me think, will you?”

  “So, he is bigger than ye, and ye didn’t have yer guard. But surely ye aren’t afraid of him.”

  Nigel ignored Lorcan. Just because they had been friends for a long time didn’t mean Lorcan would gain extra privileges. In fact, if Lorcan didn’t shut up he might burn right alongside his current wife. Finger pointing to the air in a moment of revelation, Nigel said, “I’ve got it.”

  “Ye do?” asked Lorcan, surprise lighting his face.

  “Aye, I do.” Nigel pulled close and whispered like a fellow conspirator. “Here is what we are going to do.”

  ****

  Sorcha watched Grant’s shoulders shake as his grief consumed him. She wanted to do so many things. Like ask forgiveness for her part in Samuel’s death, or explain more of the details, but time was limited. At least now he knew the truth, and he could rest knowing Samuel was with the Lord.

  She walked to the door which led to the hallway. The guard stared at her as she held her arms out in front of her for binding. Wrapping her hands quickly, he led her to the back door.

  When the door opened, she took a deep breath of fresh air. Assailed with the scent of fresh fruits and salted meat, she glared at the extra people strutting through the streets. She saw no one she knew. Everyone was mere spectators out for a mid-week jaunt. They had come for a spell of entertainment at someone else’s expense. Her knees weakened at the thought of the jeering and heckling that was to come as her poor mother suffered her fate.

  The guard grasped and pushed her in the direction of the event. Physically, he placed her in front of the rickety jail. She assumed this was in case he needed to rush her inside for some reason.

  In front of her he stood double-checking her chains. Her hands were linked together but he added an extra chain, wrapping it up around her neck, and hooking the two sets. Once done, he moved behind her and grabbed hold of it, jerking her backward.

  The guard leaned in close and licked her ear, whispering, “Don’t even try to get away, or I will make certain ye suffer.”

  Sorcha didn’t think there was another thing he could do she hadn’t already experienced. But just in case, she agreed. What did it matter? It was futile, and hopeless. She was going to die for her faith, and that was that.

  ****

  Grant wallowed in self-pity and misery until the door slammed. The girl had disappeared. Where could she have gone? That was when he noticed the absent guard and Nigel’s return.

  The magistrate shifted uncomfortably and grunted several times, trying to garner Grant’s attention. Grant wanted the rat to squirm. If the girl was to be believed, the magistrate had set idly by while his brother was murdered.

  Finally Nigel spoke, “Sir Cameron, I hate to admit this, but the young girl is correct. Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding your brother’s life was extinguished. Therefore, since I was unable to prevent such a tragedy, I have a proposition for you.”

  The man was lying through his teeth. Clenched jaw and wavering eyes were a dead giveaway. Samuel was gone and that weasel had played a pivotal role. Grant had to talk to the girl again. Perhaps the current conversation would buy time.

  Curious about the “proposition”, Grant answered, “I’m listenin’.”

  The magistrate cleared his throat. Fingers tapped an annoying rhythm against the wooden desk. “Well, you see, hmm… this is a delicate subject. I suppose the best way to approach this issue is just to be straight forward. I wish to offer you the girl as a, shall we say, replacement.”

  “Replacement? I d
on’t believe I understand ye?”

  Nigel scratched his head, and paced. “As I said there is no delicate way to put this, but your brother sired a child.”

  It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. If he hadn’t been sitting already his legs would have collapsed. “A child? How can that be?”

  “I see you are shocked by this news. Trust me, I understand your confusion. Here is my proposal, you may take the girl and the child and leave Ireland, never to return.”

  “What girl?”

  “The young lass you just met.”

  “I don’t understand how this happened.”

  “Well, that is a conversation for another time.”

  Grant rubbed his hand across his face, not happy with Nigel’s attempt at being amusing. “Let me get this straight, ye are saying since ye didn’t stay the hand of my brother’s murderer, ye will replace his life with the life of the lass’s babe, if I leave and don’t seek revenge against ye?”

  The magistrate seemed at a loss for words. Struggling, he eventually said, “I guess you could look at it that way. However, this is not just her child but Samuel’s heir. And I would prefer you take this as a peace offering from the English crown itself.”

  Grant could have gone home and retrieved an entire army of men to avenge his brother death, but his heart was broken. Before he could form the words necessary to accept the “proposal,” a shrill scream split the air.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The hideous scene unfolded in front of her. She averted her head, looking everywhere but at her mother.

  “I don’t think so, lil’ girl. Ye are goin’ to watch every bit,” said the guard, as he forced her head back to the gruesome site.

  Sorcha struggled, but because of the chains there was no way to resist. Her eyes burned and stung as the acrid smoke from the wood drifted on the wind. She looked at her mother’s face covered by the plume. Upon her visage was a look of serenity.

  As her mother took deep breathes of the black wisps, flames licked at her feet. Louisa’s head slumped. Fortunately, she succumbed to the smoke before the fire touched her skin. At her mother’s dying breath, Sorcha screamed, unable to comprehend the loss.

  ****

  Grant jumped from his seat and rushed out the door. He raised his arm to shield his face from the intense heat. The girl stood to the side, screaming over and over.

  Edging his way around the crowd of spectators, he approached the girl and the guard. “Release her chains,” he ordered.

  The guard didn’t second guess him. His trembling fingers struggled to obey Grant’s forceful request.

  The girl continued to scream, one long note after another. Unwilling to wait on the jailer, he grabbed the keys from the guard and released her. Unfettered, she collapsed in a pile at his feet. One thing was certain, she was round with child. He scooped her into his arms and angled toward the waiting magistrate.

  Grant tried to avoid the girl’s mother as her flesh charred and turned black from the extreme heat. As he reached the office and went inside, the girl relaxed against him in silence. Fearful she had stopped breathing from shock, he was relieved when he felt something against his chest. The fluttering of her long eyelashes attempted to blink back tears. Unsuccessful, however, his tunic became wet with the expression of her sadness.

  “Do we have a deal?” asked Nigel.

  Grant sighed. “Aye, we do.”

  Nigel nodded. “I will have my assistant draw up her release papers and bring them to you. Where will you be?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I will come back for them before we depart.”

  “Of course, they will be ready and waiting for you.”

  “Thank ye.” Grant left the room with the girl held in his arms. He had no intention of waiting for papers. He had a feeling waiting too long in town might lead to an unfortunate accident.

  ****

  “Where do we go take the — ” Lorcan laughed in a sinister manner before saying, “ — papers?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Nowhere?”

  “Aye, nowhere. I am afraid the Scotsman didn’t quite take the bait as I had hoped.”

  “Ye mean ye let them get away!”

  “Now, now, Lorcan. We do know where they are headed. The girl has no living ties to Ireland. Therefore she will head to Scotland with her new found benefactor, as it were.”

  “And…?”

  “Well, isn’t it obvious? We will follow suit. There is much country between here and the Irish coast. It would be disastrous if an accident should befall them.”

  “Aye, tragic indeed,” said Lorcan, holding back his laughter of derision.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They rushed to Grant’s room at the inn and gathered his things. Sorcha didn’t ask why they weren’t waiting for her release papers. She didn’t trust Nigel, and she assumed Samuel’s brother didn’t trust him either. Leaving was for the best. The trip so far, was accomplished in relative silence. Sorcha had been through many torments over the past month, she hardly felt like breathing, much less speaking.

  They traveled for a few hours before Grant allowed them to stop and rest. He built a decent size fire for warmth, but Sorcha shied away. She wished to never speak, nor feel comfort again. Everything she felt would be bottled up and sealed away. Maybe she could have her own tongue cut out. That way she would never be able to speak of the tortures she had witnessed or been subjected to.

  When she heard Grant mumbling to himself about “senseless sacrifices”, she could be silent no longer. “Whose sacrifice, my mother’s or yer brother’s?”

  Grant stared at her. He seemed surprised she was still able to speak. “My brother’s,” he answered.

  “Why was it senseless? Don’t ye know what is going on in the world? Don’t ye know anything?”

  “I know plenty,” he mumbled.

  She didn’t listen but continued to tell him what she knew. “Don’t ye realize what yer brother has done?”

  “I know what he has done! He went and got himself killed. That is what he has done. He was killed for nothing.”

  Ire was held just beneath the surface. Sorcha could hold her tongue through everything that happened, but to say Samuel perished for nothing was more than she could take.

  Her trembling finger placed in his face, she said, “Let me tell ye something. Queen Mary had the Archbishop of Canterbury burned at the stake because he believed other than the Catholic Church. Some say it was a personal vendetta. But does it matter? Did ye know he recanted? In fact, he recanted several times, but she still had him burned! And he wasn’t the only one.

  “But with all that, yer brother, Samuel, decided to leave the relative safety as the son of a Scottish laird, and come to Ireland to witness to us!”

  He interrupted in a hoarse whisper, “Aye, he did.”

  “Did ye know Queen Mary had pregnant women burned at the stake before the babe could be born? Whomever done the burnin’ in her name would let the mother burn until the babe fell out and then they would pick it up and throw it back onto the hot embers of the fire.”

  Grant shuddered with revulsion. He asked, “How come ye escaped such a fate?”

  She laughed under her breath. “I was only spared until the birthing of the babe because Nigel Duffy, the magistrate, has a barren wife. My mother was spared, because they feared I wouldn’t last if they took her while I still carried the child. But that isn’t important.

  “Don’t ye understand? Samuel told us we should be allowed to read God’s word in our own tongue. He taught us we are saved through faith alone. Not by worshipping holy relics, not by paying tribute to the church, and not by any work or deed we performed!”

  Suddenly there was a catch in her throat. She let out a loud sob. “That was what he meant.”

  “What?”

  “He told me it didn’t matter that I was no longer pure. What he meant was nothing could save me other than faith in Christ. That was why it didn’t matter what
Festus had done to me.”

  She broke down and wept. The whole time she was with Samuel he was showing these things through his actions. Little had she realized he was sharing God’s love with her, as well as his.

  ****

  Grant was speechless. He didn’t understand all she was saying. He especially was confused by the part about Festus. What he heard was this young wisp of a girl thought someone taking her child away and burning her at the stake, was nothing compared to saving faith. He wondered if she would still feel that way if she knew she was still in danger of burning.

  Although he hadn’t said anything, he was fairly certain they were being pursued. Due to her fragile state of mind, he hadn’t wanted to alarm her. They traveled at a brisk pace hoping to acquire a bit of distance between them and their pursuers. But when he saw how worn she looked, he had opted to set up camp. However, if she continued to spout her religious nonsense he might change his mind and place her bottom right back on the horse. He would make her plod along until all she could do was sleep!

  She paced the camp spouting out what he believed was verses from the Bible. She would stop, tap a finger to her lips, act as if she had an epiphany and then start talking again. Without warning, she slumped in front of the fire. He could feel her piercing gaze staring at him. Before he could request she refrain from ogling him, she blurted, “Why did they let me go?”

  For the briefest of times, Grant actually worried about giving her an answer. Then she was up and pacing again, answering herself. “Now I don’t know about Nigel Duffy, learned man of the English crown, but I do know about Lorcan Breslin, common imbecile of Ireland. And what I know is Lorcan would never have allowed me to be released if it didn’t benefit him in some way.”

  She tapped her finger to her head. “I don’t get it. My mother perished. He is free to do his remarryin’, but he wouldn’t have just let me go. I know too much.”