“Can I help ye?” Sean finally said, making it a point to not look at the woman.
“Me name is Rose,” the woman said.
Sean shrugged. “Good for ye.”
Rose jutted her chin. “Are ye the one they call ‘the Wanderer’?”
Sean leveled his gaze in Rose’s direction, fearful of having his presence announced. “I do not know what ye are talking aboot.”
Rose gestured to the members of her table, all of them watching with anticipation in their composures. “Me friends,” she said, “are incline to think that ye are the one they call ‘the Wanderer.’ Is it not true?”
Sean shook his head. “They must be mistaken. I do not know of who ye are talking aboot.”
Rose huffed, pulling out the chair next to Sean and seating herself across from him. He is quite handsome…But no, do not think of such things. That is not relevant. Focus, Rose…
“I do not ask ye to sit,” Sean said.
“Well,” Rose said, “I am sitting.”
Sean looked at Rose, her features in full view. She was stunning. There was no denying it. But Sean could not look past that. He did not want to desire anyone else. He did not need to desire anyone else. “I am just trying to have a drink,” he said. “I am not looking to have a conversation.”
Rose leaned in, squinting, sizing Sean up. “Ye are him,” she said. “Ye have a look aboot ye.”
“What look might that be?”
“One of a weary traveler. It is universal in the Highlands. A man like ye clearly does not have a clan, a place to call home.”
Sean laughed. “Ye base all of this merely on me appearance?”
Rose shrugged, unable to help herself from noting his ruggedly good features, titillating her despite her best intentions. “Am I wrong?”
Sean said nothing, sipping at his drink as he looked away. This woman is smart, he thought. Very smart… “Can I ask,” he said, “why ye are bothering me?”
Rose drew a breath, preparing to ask her lingering questions. “I require assistance.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is. And I have been led to believe that ye are the man to assist me.”
Sean leveled his gaze toward the tavern owner, wiping down the counters and serving the patrons dwelling inside. Sean was liquored up enough that he felt his defenses being lowered. “I do not know,” he said, “of who this ‘Wanderer’ is that ye speak of. But I am willing to indulge in a conversation on one condition.”
Rose crossed her arms. “Gae on…”
Sean gestured to the tavern owner. “Buy me a drink. Then I will hear what it is ye have to say.”
Rose smiled. Then she turned, held up two fingers, and flagged down the tavern owner. The burly man with the beard the color of fire approached, rubbing his hands together before saying: “What can I fetch ye?”
Rose looked to Sean, waiting for him to give an answer.
“Whiskey,” Sean said. “Yer must expensive bottle.”
Rose showcased a smirk, looking away and giving her table a reassuring glance as the tavern owner set about fetching Sean’s drink. “So,” she said, “be honest with me—are ye the one they call ‘the Wanderer’?”
Sean pouted his lip. “I’m curious who has led ye to believe this.”
“It is a simple answer—aye or no.”
Sean took his time answering, pondering how to best approach the conversation. I have been around long enough, he thought, that me face is undoubtedly know by several. What harm could come to tell her? This woman is not a threat. She requires assistance. Perhaps a lofty payday is in store for me…
“If I am the one ye speak of,” Sean said, “then what benefit Do I gain from indulging in this conversation?”
“Money,” Rose said. “Enough to help sustain ye.”
“Ye require me services then. Well, the services of ‘the Wanderer.’”
A nod. “I Do.”
“And what does that look like?”
Rose sighed, leaning back in her chair, the weight of her history being exuded in the prolonged exhale she took. “As I said,” she stated, “I require help. I require a guide.”
“A guide?”
“Aye. A guide.” She gestured to her table. “Me friends and I are looking to retreat into the Highlands.”
“How far?”
“As far away from the English as humanly possible.”
The tavern owner returned and placed Sean’s whiskey in front of him before taking away the depleted glass. Sean pushed the glass aside, lowering his tone as he leaned in and looked at Rose square in her eyes. “And why,” he said, “would ye need to be fleeing from the English?”
“A rather silly question,” Rose said. “All Highlanders live in fear of the English.”
Sean scowled. “Not me,” he said.
“Which is why ye are the man for the job.”
“Tell me first why ye are running.”
Rose leaned back in her chair. “We had a run in with a group of redcoats,” she said. “It appears that one of them has a connection with the King of England himself.”
“It sounds like ye killed this man.”
A pause on Rose’s end. “It is possible.”
Sean said: “And now ye are attempting to flee before the repercussions of this catch up to ye.”
Rose sighed. “Are ye going to help us,” she said, “or not?”
Sean crossed his arms. “It depends. Being that ye have attracted a significant amount of trouble because of yer actions, that trouble will be focused on me as a result. If I help ye, that is.”
“I am willing to pay.”
“How much?”
“Name yer price.”
Sean smiled, pulling his fresh glass of whiskey to his lips and taking a sip. “I doubt ye can afford me.”
Rose smirked. I could handle ye if I need to. She blinked herself out of the thought. Stop! Enough! Why are ye doing this? “Ye would be surprised to know what I can afford,” Rose said, slipping her hand into her pocket and producing a sack of coins that she dropped right on the table in front of Sean.
Sean looked at the sack, hearing the weight of it slam down upon the table. Quite a bit of coin in there, he thought. This woman is not kidding…
Sean took his time, drinking his whiskey and taking a quick look at Rose’s table. They were all waiting, just as eager as she was to receive the final answer.
“Where Do ye wish to gae?” Sean asked.
“As far as possible,” Rose said. “That is why I am speaking to ye. Again, the rumor is that ye possess a vast knowledge of the Highlands. Ye know of places that no other man does. That is why they call ye Wanderer.”
“It is not a name I relish.”
Rose smiled. “So, it is true then. Ye are him…”
Simon swirled his whiskey around in his glass, biding his time, debating his next move. These Highlanders attract trouble, he thought. And it is the kind of trouble I cannot afford right now…but there is a lot of money in that sack, perhaps more to be had. That could sustain me for a while as I traverse the Highlands. It could get me in the door with the right people, the people who know of the man that burned me family alive.
“This is risky,” Sean said. “Helping ye is a dangerous proposition. As ye said—ye murdered a member of the King’s family. That is not something that will be taken lightly.”
Rose crooked a finger. “And ye have gravitated toward trouble on yer own, as well. Do not act like that is not true.”
Sean took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t want to outright admit that he had attracted his fair share of trouble. It was true. But he didn’t know the woman in front of him. Trust was a hard thing to come by in the current day and age. He needed to wait it out, feel out the situation and act accordingly. It was every man—and in this case, every man and woman—for his or herself.
“Ye wish,” Sean said, “for me to guide ye.”
Rose nodded. “As far away from here as
possible.”
Sean scoured his brain, the entire geography of the Highlands mapped out well in his mind. He knew of every remote area there was in the Highlands. It assisted him well in being able to blend in and out at a moment’s notice. A particular area came to mind to him, one that was far from the reaches of the English, a place where one could live in peace without attracting any trouble.
“I know of somewhere,” Sean said. “But it is quite a trek.”
Rose shrugged. “We are willing to make that journey. How far is it?”
“About a week’s ride, perhaps a little more. But it is worth it. The location I speak of is capable of sustaining many, many people. It will serve ye well, and it will be worth the price of me services.”
Sean took a moment to take in all the members at Rose’s table. He could sense their grit, their survivalist mentality as they stayed huddled together. They are loyal, he thought. A true band of Highlanders.
Sean squinted, something about the aesthetic of the group sparking a memory in his mind. He tilted his head, looking at each member in Rose’s band of Highlanders with an inquisitive expression—and then it clicked.
Sean smiled. “I know who ye are,” he said.
Rose’s eyes turned to slits. “What Do ye mean?”
Sean leaned in. “It’s ye, isn’t it? The one they call the ‘Scots.’”
Rose said nothing—but the pale expression that came over her face said everything.
“Aye,” Sean said. “I have heard of ye. Ye are a band of thieves that are known for robbing English redcoats. I have heard of the tales. Ye are quite formidable…the only thing is that the rumors state that a man is in charge of the Scots. Not a woman.”
Rose smiled. “I do not understand to whom ye are referring to…but I would say that a woman is just as capable as leading as a man is.”
Sean laughed, clapping his hands together. “Well, well, well. It appears that two of the most notorious Highlanders in all of Scotland have crossed paths, me lady.”
“Please keep yer voice down.”
“Relax. No one in this tavern is our enemy. The closest English stronghold is only a few miles away. They have not bothered the patrons here in quite some time.”
Rose sighed, crossing her arms. “Are ye going to help us,” she said, “or no?”
Sean looked at the sack of coins that Rose had placed on the table. Debating. Weighing his options. “I want double,” he said. “I take the sack ye have put on the table as a down payment. Once we reach the area that I speak of, I ask for the same amount of coin to be paid.”
Rose held on for a moment, sizing Sean up as she made her decision. After a few moments, she stuck out her hand. “Deal,” she said.
Sean placed his palm into Rose’s and shook. “Deal.”
Rose stood from the table. “I am going to speak to me people. Wait here.”
Sean held up his glass. “Take yer time. I am not going anywhere…”
Sean watched Rose as she walked over to her group, leaning in and whispering to them: “We have retained his services.”
Kelly, Rose’s right-hand woman, said: “How much?”
“I have paid him all the coin we have on hand. And we must pay him the same amount once we reach our destination.”
Kelly’s eyes went wide. “Are ye mad? We do not have that kind of money!”
“Then we will find it.”
“This is foolish,” Brandon said. “How are we going to acquire more coin?”
“We shall figure it out. We do not have a lot of options, me friends. We must take this Highlander up on his offer.”
“We do not know him,” Kelly said. “How can we trust that this man is not going to stab us in the back?”
“There are more of us than there are of him. Should a problem arise, we are capable of handling ourselves.”
“Rose,” Kelly protested, “we—”
Rose held up her hand. “It is done. Gae and fetch the horses from the stable. We shall leave shortly. I shall converse a bit more with this Wanderer before we make our leave.”
Brandon huffed, shaking his head. “I do not like this, Rose.” He glanced at Sean. “I dinane trust this man.”
“Neither do I,” Rose said. “But we have no other choice. Now gae. We must make our leave. Gather the horses and supplies for a week’s travel. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
The Scots all exchanged subtle glances before standing from the table and meandering toward the exit, Rose heading back to Sean’s table as he took another sip of his whiskey. “It is done,” she said. “Me people have agreed.”
Sean nodded. “Very well. When Do ye wish to leave?”
“Right now,” Rose said. “Time is of the essence.”
Sean looked at the whiskey in his glass, still half full. “Once I finish me drink. Then we shall depart.”
Sean brought the glass to his lips—and then Rose took it from him, taking the glass and downing the rest of the whiskey with ease. “Like I said,” she said. “Time is of the essence. We must make our leave.”
Sean stood, gesturing toward the exit. “As ye wish…”
Rose led the way, Sean following after her as they headed to the entrance. But as they came a few feet shy of the door—an English knight entered, his immaculate clothing standing out amongst the dark tones in the bar as he jutted his chin and stared on at the Highlanders inside the bar as a terror-laced hush settled over the entire scene.
Chapter Three
Sean felt a panic overcome as he stared at the redcoats that had just entered the tavern. All those around him quickly ceased their conversations as they stared on at the intruder and waited for him to speak first. They know, Sean thought. They know that Rose and her people are here. Me God, they are here to exact justice for the death of the king’s nephew.
Sean looked at the knight from, head-to-toe. He was tall, nearly towering over her and Sean as his two cohorts, much shorter and looking like runts of the litter, waited patiently behind them. They were dressed in gray and white tunics clad with flawless chainmail that caught the light. They carried themselves with a kind of arrogant swagger that exuded a false sense of confidence and nobility—chins jutted, postures exaggerated, and chests puffed out.
The knight looked at Rose, standing in front of him, inquisitively. “Would you mind,” he said, “moving out of the way, commoner?”
Sean could sense that Rose was the type who would usually have been inclined to slight the man, and he was relieved that the knight wasn’t there—at least not apparently—for Rose or the Scots. He watched as Rose stood aside, the knight brushing past her and sauntering up to the tavern owner with his men in tow.
All the Highlanders in the tavern were silent, and eerie sense of tension lacing the air as all eyes watched in eager anticipation as the knight came up to the counter, slapped his hand down, and said: “Your finest ale. Please.”
The tavern owner, trying not to look at the knight, fetched a glass, filled it, and brought it back over.
“I trust this is on the house?” the knight said.
The tavern owner nodded—but he knew it wasn’t a request.
Sean, still lingering near the door with Rose, leaned into her ear and said: “Let us make our departure. We do not want to wait around here.” They moved toward the door—but another knight stepped in the doorway and blocked them from leaving.
“I think,” the knight said, “you should stay here a moment.” He pointed to the knight at the counter. “Master Jessup has some questions for all of the patrons here.”
Sean and Rose knew it was better not to argue. They turned away from the knight blocking the door, seating themselves at the vacant table near the exit and waiting with pensive gazes and hands hovering near their weapons.
The knight at the counter, who went by the name Lord Jessup, according to his man by the door, took a sip of his ale. He winced, looking at the liquid like a foreign object was floating inside of it. “A rather tasteless
beverage,” he said, leveling his attention at the tavern owner. “You call this your finest ale?”
The tavern owner said nothing, his attention focused on the glass in front of him that he was cleaning with a rag so he could avoid eye contact with Lord Jessup.
Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 3