by Barbara Bard
* * *
“You could always take us with you one day, brother,” Catherine said. Harold gave her a withering look, then continued with his story, not regarding her words as worthy of comment.
* * *
“As I was saying, the deer had a head start and was a strong, powerful beast. It was so fast we lost sight of it more than once, but we always managed to find its trail again. Although there were others with me I felt a strange sensation wash over me. It was as though I was the only one on the hunt, as though this deer was fated for me. I knew that I could catch it and kill it, that it would only be me. I encouraged my horse and broke away from the rest of the hunting party. I kept my eyes peeled, searching the forest for any sign of this great beast. For a time I thought I had lost him completely, and then I heard the crack of a branch. I twisted around and saw the deer fleeing again. I chased him, for how long I do not know because time lost all meaning to me. Then, I finally came upon it. I drew my bow and my arrow flew true once again, lodging itself in the beast's neck. It carried on lumbering forward for a time, but eventually stumbled and sank to its knees. I alighted from my horse and finished him with my blade. He was worthy prey, and I am sure that his meat will taste good,” he said, beaming widely.
* * *
Catherine yawned. Sarah pretended that she was in awe of his prowess.
* * *
“You are such a wonderful hunter,” she said.
* * *
“Thank you, yes, well, it is a skill I inherited from Father really,” Lord Flynn said without a hint of modesty. “Some men are simply born to be great warriors. I only hope I get the chance to prove myself one of these days. I imagine that hunting the Highlanders would be much like hunting this deer. They are but animals themselves of course, with little intelligence other than to feed and mate. In fact the deer would probably pose more of a challenge,” he said, throwing back his head with a loud laugh.
* * *
Sarah smiled as well, laughing softly. There was something else she wanted to ask Lord Flynn, although it could prove to be risky. Meekly, she turned to him.
* * *
“Speaking of the Highlanders, Harold, I was wondering if it would be possible to send a rescue party to try and see what happened to my handmaid? If she was carried off by a Highlander I would like to know what happened to her.”
* * *
“Isn't she wonderful?” Harold said, smiling widely towards Catherine. “That you would care so deeply for a mere servant. Unfortunately, my dear, I am sure that we all know her fate, even if we would not like to think of it. The Highlanders show no mercy when it comes to these matters. I do not believe there would be anything of her left to find even if we ventured into their territory. Besides, I do not think a mere servant is worth going to war over. No, there will be another cause, of that I am sure.”
* * *
“But she was close to me. I knew her all my life. It would please me greatly if something could be done,” Sarah said beseechingly.
* * *
The smile faded from Lord Harold's face.
* * *
“Do not press me, woman. I have already told you my decision. I appreciate your kindness and compassion, but do not forget they are just servants. They do not matter in the grand scheme of things. I would not send men into dangerous territory to search for a handmaiden, especially not when the likelihood is that she is dead.”
* * *
His words were bitter and they shot at her like daggers. Sarah stifled a sob and focused on eating her meal.
* * *
“Now my mood has been soured. Bring me meat! I wish to dine on my quarry,” Harold said. Catherine and Sarah remained quiet. Sarah averted her eyes from his gaze, not wanting to provoke his wrath again. A servant came over and put a slice of meat on Harold's plate. He took a bite and murmured his delight, then gestured for meat to be placed on the women's plates.
* * *
Sarah wanted to pass for her appetite had disappeared, but she knew that doing so would only make him angrier at her. A huge slab of meat was placed on her plate. It was daunting, and the sight of it almost made her nauseous. Harold seemed to be delighting in the taste. Sarah cut off a small morsel and placed it in her mouth, and she had to hide her disgust. The meat was tough and flavorless. Sarah coughed, and sipped some water.
* * *
“Well, what do you think?” he asked. Sarah and Catherine glanced at each other, both getting the impression that they had the same opinion of the meat.
* * *
“It is incredibly tasty,” Sarah lied, “but I am afraid I ate too much bread with my broth.
* * *
I am not sure I will be able to eat any more,” she said. Harold's face fell, and he gripped his fork tightly.
* * *
“You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?” he said in a low, harsh voice.
* * *
“Of course not, my lord.”
* * *
“Because you know that lying is the greatest sin. A husband must have loyalty from his wife. There can be no secrets between us. If I am unable to trust you...” he said, standing up, pacing around the table towards her. Sarah suddenly felt vulnerable. She looked towards Catherine, but found no help from her.
* * *
“I poured my heart and soul into that hunt. I chased that deer through the forest, endangering myself and my horse. I was out there bringing home this food for you, and you dare to tell me that you won't put in the effort to eat it because you've filled up on bread? Now that is no way for a wife to treat her husband. I require you to appreciate the things I do, which means that you must eat this meat,” he said.
* * *
Sarah pressed her lips together, wondering how she was going to get through this. The thought of having another mouthful of meat filled her with nausea. She had only just managed to force the first piece down, and the meat was as big as the plate. In fact she had never seen a slab of meat as big as this one.
* * *
“I...I will try,” she said.
* * *
“That is not good enough,” Harold said. “You must enjoy the fruits of my labor!” he snarled, snatching the cutlery from her hands and cutting up her meat for her. He skewered a piece on the end of the fork and proceeded to force it into her mouth. Sarah felt the meat being pushed inside her and almost gagged at the sensation of having it thrust inside her.
* * *
“Now eat it and enjoy it!” he barked. Sarah chewed dutifully, hating every minute of it. Tears welled up in her eyes and she coughed, choking on the heavy, dry meat. Harold stood there with another chunk of meat poised on the end of the fork, ready to be given to Sarah again. The thought of having yet another piece of meat inside her was abhorrent and her stomach began to groan.
* * *
“Harold, I hate to say this, but the meat is rather tough,” Catherine said. Harold glared at her. The fork dropped from his hand and clattered against the plate. Harold began to move around the table, when Sarah felt a hacking cough rise through her. Sarah's entire body trembled and convulsed, trying to keep her lips tight together, but she expelled the chewed chunk of meat onto the plate. Harold glared at her, aghast that she would dare to spit out some of the meat he had hunted, but it was so dry and unpalatable that she could not even fake enjoyment of the food. Embarrassed, she fled with red cheeks out of the dining hall, humiliated, with tears streaming down her face.
6
“What do ye want to talk about? If this is one of yer usual lectures I cannae be doing wi' that right now,” Blair said. Drew had led Blair out of the castle into the cool night air. The sky was free of clouds. The silver moon hung above them like a great orb, and the stars twinkled across the black cloak of night. The sounds of the feast were dwindling, but were still present. Many of the people in attendance had left the great hall and had settled in camps across the field. Drew looked across and saw groups lumped together. Most of th
em were sleeping soundly, others were talking together.
* * *
“Look at them, Blair. Look at all of them.”
* * *
“I see them brother, what is your point?”
* * *
“My point is that we should not be so eager to run to war. Are ye really willing to send these men and women to their deaths?”
* * *
“I am doing no such thing,” Blair slurred. “Everyone voted. Everyone chose. I am not making a decision for anyone. You heard them in there,” he said.
* * *
“I did, all of them were drunk and would have agreed to anything at that moment in time. You're drunk too.”
* * *
“That I may be, but are ye saying I cannae hold my drink?”
* * *
“Of course not, brother, I merely wish to caution you about what ye are doing.”
* * *
“And what might that be?” Blair said, steadying himself, baring his chest. He was one step away from flexing his muscles, and Drew didn't want to get into a contest of strength with him.
* * *
“Father wanted a certain way of life for us. I'm not sure that war is the right way for us.”
* * *
“War is the only way out of this. Gall's death cannae be left without punishment. The English have done too much.”
* * *
“Aye. We remember all they did. All the deaths caused. All the blood spilled. How many of the people around us will come back? What of the rest of the Highlanders?”
* * *
“Ye think that that will be the only end? Ye think badly of us, Drew. We are strong, and we can beat the English. I am tired of living in fear of them, of always having to worry if they are going to attack. We do not have to fear them. If we let this transgression go unpunished how much further will they go? How much will they take from us? If we keep letting them get away with these things we will only encourage them to move further up north, taking our territory, and by the time they declare war it will be too late. We must strike before they take more liberties than we can afford to give,” he said passionately.
* * *
Drew sighed, and turned his back to Blair. He continued to gaze out at the horizon, beyond their small fiefdom to the forest that lay beyond, and even further beyond that lay the English country, source of the scoundrels and dishonorable men who seemed to think that the Highlands were their birthright.
* * *
“And what of the people at home?” Drew asked.
* * *
“What do ye mean?”
* * *
“Perhaps I should have waited to discuss this with ye when ye were sober,” Drew sighed.
* * *
“Tell me now, brother. I have my wits about me.”
* * *
“Are ye sure about that?” Drew asked with a smirk.
* * *
“About as sure as I can ever be,” Blair replied, meeting Drew's smile.
* * *
“There are some who do not agree with your decisions, Blair. Ye have gone against years of tradition by claiming that lassie as your own.”
* * *
“Aye, I know that, Drew. Ye don't have to tell me the obvious.”
* * *
“I feel as though I do. Not everyone can be swayed by passionate words. Ye must think about the common people. I dinnae think they understand how ye can declare war on the English in one breath, yet take one to yer bed with the other.”
* * *
“Rosemary is not part of the English army,” Blair replied stonily.
* * *
“I know that, and ye know that, but not everyone does. To some she's just an English lass who has worked her way into your bed. I cannae blame them really. I felt the same when ye first came back with her.”
* * *
“And what do ye make of her now?”
* * *
“I've talked with her a bit. She seems like she has a good head on her shoulders, except for choosing to love ye,” he said, teasing Blair.
* * *
“I dinnae believe we do choose who we love, Drew. I think one day soon ye'll see that for yerself.”
* * *
“Aye, maybe, if I see this war through. Just be careful, Blair, that's all I want from ye. These be dangerous times for all of us, and things should not be taken lightly. Remember how vicious the English can be. I hope ye know what ye are doing when it comes to her.”
* * *
All good humor disappeared from Blair's face. “I told ye not to speak of her like that. Nobody can speak of her like that,” he growled.
* * *
“I dinnae mean it like that, brother. Forgive me,” Drew said. Blair looked at him through narrowed eyes, and eventually relented. Drew breathed a sigh of relief as his brother wished him a good night and then disappeared back into the castle. Drew stayed out for a little while, hoping that these people would remain safe. Then, with a sweep of his cloak he returned to his room and lay in bed, thanking the gods for all the ale he had drunk, for if it hadn't been for that he never would have been blessed by sleep.
* * *
The morning came, and with it Drew awoke with a yawn. He stretched his limbs and dragged himself out of bed, going down to the stream where he bathed with all the others. Men and women were together, some wrestling and enjoying the feeling of being in the water. Drew looked at them, tinged with sadness. Whenever he looked at them he couldn't help but wonder how many of them would be slain in war. How much blood would be on all their hands?
* * *
After washing, Drew took a walk along the river bank when he heard a soft voice. From the accent there was no doubting that it was Rosemary. He stopped before she noticed him, and thought about moving away. Eavesdropping was not a very honorable thing to do, but then he thought about it and he realized that he had something of a duty to his clan and his brother to listen to her prayers. While in communion with God she would reveal her innermost secrets, and Drew would be able to discover once and for all if she was trustworthy.
* * *
“...and please let Sarah be safe. If you can get any message to her from me I would be eternally grateful. I long to see her again, and my father too. I hope that one day you can arrange for us to be a family once again. Please also give me the strength to continue and do as I must. I love Blair, but I fear the rest of the clan. Sometimes I feel as though there is a place for me here, but other times I am not so sure.
* * *
I suppose at some point there might be a chance for me to return to the English. Is that what you have planned for me? Is that what I should do? I loathe the thought of leaving Blair, but if there is a war and I have the opportunity to return to my old life should I not consider it? And if Blair should die I would have no ties to this place. I pray for your strength and guidance to see me through. Amen,” she said dutifully.
* * *
Drew stepped back as she rose and smoothed down her clothes before walking back towards the main camp. What Drew had heard stirred trouble in his heart. If Blair should fall then it was true, Rosemary had no ties to the Highlands, and she could easily turn and run away to the English with all the information she gathered during her time here. It seemed to Drew that she was not so sure of her love as Blair seemed to think she was. Indeed, family ties could bind people strongly, and the pull of them transcended borders between countries.
* * *
Drew continued walking, lost in thought. He was always a man prone to brooding, especially when this weighed so heavily on his heart. Blair's judgment may well have been affected by his feelings for Rosemary, and there could come a time when Drew had to step in front of his brother to make his concerns known.
* * *