by Alisa Adams
The Pressley name had once managed to strike fear into the hearts of evil-doers, but now it had faded into the mists of time. Some people could once recall tales of a mighty warrior for the clan, but to most people the name was as meaningless as most others. Bryan knew it was unfair. His family had never deserved this, they had just suffered from the bad decisions of a few misguided members of his ancestry, and because of them his family had lost their land, their titles, and all the respect of the Highlands.
It had been some generations since the Pressleys had been a force among the Highland tribes, but stories had been passed down from father to son, and Bryan knew that one day it would be his duty to pass on the same stories that had been told to him. The family name and the memories of what had been were the only legacy that existed for the Pressley descendents, but Bryan wanted more. It wasn’t enough for him to just pass on stories of the glory of the clan, which was getting farther and farther away as time marched inexorably forward.
Bryan wanted to make a difference. He wanted to do something for his family, not just let the name fall further into ruin. He wanted to leave his son something tangible, some hope for the future…but that was even if he did have a son. Before he had a son he had to find a wife, and that was proving troublesome by itself. One of the fears in his mind was that he would never find a suitable wife and he would die alone, the last of the Pressleys, and the sword would be passed down to nobody. It was a thought that left him melancholy, with slumped shoulders and a sunken heart.
Bryan pulled himself up and put his boots back on his feet. He wore ragged clothes that were stained and patched. He swung his cloak around his shoulders and fastened his sword on his belt around his waist. The small knapsack was just a pouch that hung on the opposite side of his body to his sword, leaving his arms free to swing about. Bryan was a tall man, with an imposing figure. He had broad shoulders and a barrel chest, and thick muscular legs that had been forged from years of walking across harsh terrain. His body was lean and muscled; there was barely any fat on him because he ate a meager diet, only taking what he needed from the land. His beard was thick and lustrous, the same dark shade of black as his hair, and it made him appear older than he actually was. Although sometimes he felt as if he had lived for hundreds of years, for he had suffered through much tragedy in life already and he wondered if he would ever be given a respite from all that plagued him.
One of the greatest sorrows he had was that he couldn’t even speak to his father’s grave. His father had been buried miles away, and Bryan’s journey had taken him far away. The grave wasn’t marked either. It was just a hole that Bryan had dug near a tree and marked with a simple cross made of sticks. It was unlikely that anyone who passed would take notice of it, but Bryan hoped to return there at some point.
He remembered how he had stood in the shade of that mighty oak tree, his clothes clinging to him after he had dug the grave and filled in the dirt, patting it down smooth so that no animals would be tempted to burrow in and consecrate the ground that was so sacred to him. Sweat dripped from his brow and mingled with his tears as he stood over his father’s grave, making a vow that he promised to keep.
“I will not return here until I can return with a wife. I will continue the family legacy, Father. I will make us great again. Somehow I will make the Highlands bow with respect whenever they hear our name. Somehow I’ll bring glory, pride, and honor back to our family. I will be just as great as the warriors that have held this sword before me.”
It was a vow that Bryan was determined to keep, and now everything he did was in service to that goal. The weight of his ancestors bore down upon him. The pressure of generations threatened to crush him with the weight of expectation. He wasn’t going to die in the middle of nowhere, buried by his only son like his father had been. He was going to be a great man, a man that would capture the hearts of all those around him and whose name would be revered among commoners and nobles alike, but first he needed to find land, no matter how small. He needed to generate income and build for the future. He couldn’t spend his entire life wandering around the Highlands hoping that something magical would fall into his lap. He had to take his destiny into his own hands and make the future he wanted a reality rather than waiting for it all to unfold.
So it was that he moved on to his next destination, growing ever closer to the border between England and Scotland, in hope that he could find some opportunity of which he could take advantage.
Chapter 2
Catherine gazed out of the wagon at the flowers passing by as they passed into the Lowlands, having come from the north of England. This world was so close to her own, and yet it seemed different, filled with lush greens and earthy browns. The trees seemed to be standing to attention as she passed by. The wagon creaked and she was jostled as the wagon passed over the uneven roads. She gasped and yelped a little as she was thrown into her handmaiden and friend, Betsy, who was sitting beside her. Across from her was her Uncle Nathaniel. His angular face was pale and his streaky grey hair mimicked vines that framed his face. He looked nothing like his brother, her father, the Lord of the region. Lord Thomas Browne was tall and imposing, with a glow on his skin that looked as though he had been touched by the gods. Catherine shared that same glow and the flaming red hair. She had freckles over her nose too, and bright blue eyes.
Her body was trim and slender, for she was an active girl who often liked running about and frolicking among nature. She loved seeing the variety of vivid flowers the world had to offer, and she was never bored when she had the opportunity to gaze out at the natural world.
“I’m surprised you wanted to join me on this excursion. You know the Highlands aren’t a place for noble ladies like yourself. They’re filled with brute savages and nasty, cruel commoners who do not have the same sensibilities as we do. Frankly, I’m astonished that Thomas allowed you to come on this journey at all,” Nathaniel said.
Catherine had to bite her tongue. She loved her Uncle as she loved all her family and yet there was something about him that set on her edge. It was as though they saw the world in entirely different ways. For him, girls were better seen and not heard, they were only to do the bidding of their fathers and husbands and were frail and fragile, always needing the protection of somebody else. In his eyes they were delicate creatures who needed as much protection as the tiniest mouse did from the cruelest lion, but he couldn’t seem to see that Catherine had inherited her father’s strength and capabilities. Her uncle seemed to see her as the small girl she had been, rather than the young woman she had grown into.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine with you to protect us Uncle, and we won’t stray too far from the wagon. It’s just nice to see more of the world.”
Nathaniel huffed. “I don’t think you’ll be impressed with the Highlands. This place is a blight on the world and we’d all be better off if it would be cut adrift. The problem is that they don’t know their place. They keep snapping at our heels like yapping dogs and we have to continually turn around and discipline them when we should be focusing our efforts on other threats, like the damned French. Still, I suppose they provide a decent amount of income. It will all change when you’re married, girl. We’ll find a good husband for you and gain some influence in the capital. We’ll become important to the King, and our best men will ride with him while one of his garrisons can guard this forsaken place.”
Catherine didn’t know much about politics but she blanched whenever her uncle or her father mentioned her future. They had it in her mind that she would be shipped off to the capital and forced to marry some stiff man, and of course it was their choice rather than hers. Catherine had known for a long time that she was to be married to a man of high nobility. It was her duty to her family to do all she could to increase their prestige and influence, and of course she wanted to do her duty, but the thought of giving up her independence for a man she did not know…it caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach.
She also didn’t
agree with her uncle on his views with the Highlands, but she had learned a long time ago not to dispute his opinions with him because he never took hers seriously, always dismissing them with a patronizing shake of the head, as though she were acting above herself to even have opinions in the first place. She had been on a few of these excursions before. The estate had an arrangement with some families in the Lowlands that they would offer protection in exchange for goods and taxes. Catherine didn’t know the ins and outs of the arrangement, but it seemed like a fair deal for her, and it gave her the opportunity to see a new place, to escape the confines of the estate.
There was something exotic about the Highlands that appealed to her. It seemed far away even though it didn’t take long to travel across the border into the new territory. It was rough and raw and there was something about the air and atmosphere that was dangerous and exciting. Every time she ventured into the Highlands her heart trembled with excitement, for she anticipated that anything might happen, even though she knew rationally that she was well-guarded and it was unlikely that her uncle would let anything happen to her. She was far too valuable to the future of the family for him to take his eyes off of her, but there was always that glimmer of hope that something exciting would happen, some adventure she could have as a final goodbye to her youth, before she was taken down to the heart of England and given in matrimony to some lord somewhere.
“I don’t think it’s as bad as all you say, Uncle,” she replied diplomatically. Uncle Nathaniel merely gave her a withering stare but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her comment.
“We have to keep them on a tight leash, you see. We can’t give them any opportunity to think that we’re weak, otherwise they’ll come down and try to take what’s not theirs. I’m sure you have heard of that trouble not too long ago. Your father made the wise decision not to get involved. I don’t know why Lord Harold has been content to sit in his estate and not take vengeance on his brother and father, or punish the Highlanders for stealing his sister. People even speculate that she went there by choice! Can you believe that?” He shook his head and sighed as if he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to avoid violence.
Catherine thought of the story and unlike her uncle she did believe that Sarina had chosen to stay in the Highlands. For her uncle, marriage was nothing but a political arrangement, but Catherine was a woman and she knew how powerful love could be. There was something intriguing and exciting about the thought of coming across a strong, wild Highlander and throwing herself at the mercy of his passion. Whenever she thought about things like these she blushed, for she was an innocent maiden, and she knew it was improper to have these thoughts. She would never share them with anyone and she knew that it would never be a part of her life, and yet, on occasion, it was somewhat fun to think about the possibilities.
The rest of the wagon ride was spent with her Uncle musing on the state of affairs in the nation. Catherine got the impression that he liked the sound of his voice more than anything else and she found herself wishing that her father had accompanied her on this journey instead, for he would have been much better company and spoken with her rather than lectured her about things she didn’t understand nor had any desire to understand. At least her father would have been jovial, but sadly he didn’t have any interest and left these administrative matters, like collecting taxes, to Uncle Nathaniel.
The wagon trundled along and Catherine tried to ignore her uncle as best she could. She gazed outside and exchanged glances with Betsy, who shared her opinion of her uncle. The two of them suppressed smiles, and Nathaniel seemed completely unaware that he was being silently mocked.
The golden rays of the sun warmed her white arm and highlighted the soft freckles. She twisted her wrist and tried to catch the sunlight on her fingers, marveling at the beauty of nature.
“Are there places like this in the heart of the country?” she asked idly. Nathaniel arched an eyebrow.
“I should think not. We are moving into the future. Perhaps there are some gardens somewhere that offer this sort of thing, but otherwise no. There are grand castles and big markets, farms that stretch across the land as far as the eye can see. There are carts and wagons and all manner of wonderful things that are of use to the country. None of this useless frippery.” He gazed with derision at the natural world.
“It’s not useless, it’s beautiful.”
Nathaniel sighed again. “It always falls to a woman to think of the most meaningless things,” he said under his breath, and then he addressed her directly. “The only thing that truly matters is the function something has. Beauty doesn’t help the country win wars and it doesn’t help provide wealth. I’m sure that it is wonderful as a means of distraction, but it doesn’t have any inherent value and I’m glad to see that the King agrees, which is why he has been building fortresses and other structures that will help us become a strong nation. Do you think these flowers would be able to stop a country or conquer a nation?”
“No, Uncle,” Catherine said sullenly. Nathaniel sat back and looked smug, as though he had proven his point, although Catherine had the feeling that they were arguing about something completely different.
She hoped that whatever husband was chosen for her wouldn’t be so obsessed with talking politics like her uncle was, but sadly it seemed as though the duty of choosing her husband had fallen to her uncle. She doubted that he would choose someone who was kind and compassionate, who had an appreciation for beauty and all the wonders of the natural world. Perhaps, really, such a man didn’t exist and she was deluding herself by thinking he did. Maybe all men were like her father and uncle, and like so many women before her, she would simply have to set her expectations aside and try to find happiness wherever she could.
Chapter 3
Bryan had wandered into town, looking for any sign of work. He saw a few old posters up claiming rewards for bandits. Finding villains and delivering them to the law had been one way to earn a little coin, but recently the attacks by bandits had become far less common. There was word that some mighty warriors had gone to war with the bandits and had decimated their infrastructure. It was a good thing for the travelers and peasants across the land, but bad for anyone who tried to earn their living by collecting ransoms. Bryan used what little coin he had to get a good meal and a mug of ale. The tavern was always a good place to hear chatter and seek out opportunities, so he perched himself on a stool and opened his ears to the stories of the people who lived in the village.
He heard much gossip about people he didn’t know, and he received glances of affection from girls a little too young for him, who were attracted to his rough demeanor and strange, brooding aura. He caught them giggling and smiling, and once upon a time he would have enjoyed the game of attraction, making eyes across the room, but now that didn’t seem enough. There was no woman who had truly captured his soul.
His father had often regaled him with stories of his mother and what it had been like to be in love. Sadly, Bryan had never known his mother, for she had died while he was very young, but in a way he had come to know her through his father’s stories. Bryan’s father had spoken of her with such passion and such love it was as though he breathed life into her again and she rose from the afterlife like a ghost, accompanying them always. He wanted to feel the same thing for himself, to know that he could trust another person with his heart, his life, with everything he had. He wanted to be devoted and to know that he would do anything for the woman he loved. When you had nothing else, love became everything, although he was sure that even if he had a castle and land he would still cherish his love. After a long time of being alone he knew that there was nothing sweeter than being with somebody else.
After some time he saw a squat, stocky man with coarse red spots on his cheeks and well-worn clothes come in, shaking his head. He slapped his palm on the bar and demanded a mug of ale, and he drank most of it in one long gulp. His hair was grey and he looked tired and hot, and, Bryan noticed, like a man in nee
d.
The tavern was mostly empty so there were plenty of chairs to choose from, but the man didn’t seem concerned with sitting down. Bryan rose and walked up to him, offering the man his friendliest smile.
“Ye look like you’re in need of some help friend, why dinnae ye join me and I can see if there’s anything I can dae?”
The man narrowed his eyes and looked at Bryan, then towards his glass. “Aye, that sounds like a good wee plan, if ye can refill my mug,” he said.
Bryan felt around in his pouch. It would use the last of his money, and his face paled a little, but they were going to be spent eventually and he thought he might as well use them in the hope of finding and opportunity to work rather than holding onto them. He took out the coins and pressed them onto the bar, moving them in the direction of the serving girl, who took them and served up two ales. The stranger raised his glass and grinned, then they made their way back to the table.
Bryan introduced himself and learned that the man’s name was Hamish, and he clearly had a big appetite for drinking. His body was wide, his stomach large and round, but his arms were thick with muscle and his hands were rough and calloused. He was evidently a man of the land.
“Well ye see Bryan, I’ve been haeing a wee bit of a problem. I hae this wee lad helping me but he ran off when he got wind that another farmer was paying twice as much as me up here! He was supposed tae help me transport some goods back tae the farm, and I cannae dae it myself, and it seems I cannae afford tae pay the going rate around these parts.” His head dropped in shame a little, and Bryan understood. “I could use a good strong man like ye, but I know I cannae afford ye.”
“Why is that, out of interest?” Bryan asked, not understanding why some farms could pay more than others.