“Say it,” she said softly. “Tell what I already know.”
Sean looked up, staring deep into Rose’s eyes as he found himself wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Say it, Wanderer,” Rose repeated. “Say it and free yourself from the denial. Embrace it. Embrace me.”
Sean’s hands then came up to Rose’s face. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived, knowing that he could no longer deny what he was feeling inside. As he held Rose’s face gently in his hands, he looked her deep in the eye, parted his lips, and pressed his lips against hers. Their kiss was like a passionate dance, Sean’s heart fluttering as they held onto the moment for as long as humanly possible, the fire burning and causing every inch of Sean’s body to feel as if it was consumed in the hot flames of sheer passion. The moment felt as if it lasted forever.
Sean pulled away. “I do feel fer ye, Rose, more than I want to admit, It is not sane; it makes not the slightest bit of sense. But I do.”
When they finally broke their kiss, Rose looked Sean in the eye and said: “Tell me. Tell me your real name.”
Sean smiled. “Sean,” he said. “My name is Sean.”
Rose returned the smile. “Well, Sean. It’s a pleasure to finally meet ye...”
The two then kissed once again, Sean feeling nothing shy of sheer elation as he held onto the moment as long as possible, finally feeling himself free of the burden of denying that he had finally, after such a long and arduous time, found someone to love again.
Chapter Nineteen
The smuggest of smiles formed in Lord Marcus’ face as he noted the spiraling smoke rising from a chimney not far in the distance. “There we are,” he said to Henry, riding alongside of him.
“What is it?” Henry inquired.
Lord Marcus gestured to the smoke. “It appears that we have stumbled across a village. My inclination tells me that our Scots probably stopped by here at some point.”
“What makes you say that, my Lord?”
Lord Marcus pointed to the ground. “Look there,” he said. “Do you see the collective hoof prints? They curve to the left—straight up to the village.”
“I have never seen this village before. I have never even heard of it. How is this possible? Don’t our people have a stranglehold on this area?”
Lord Marcus shook his head. “We are well beyond the territory that most of our English companions travel through. No, my friend, this is territory belonging to drifters, wanderers. I am more than certain that our Scots traipsed through here at some point.”
Henry nodded toward the village. “Do we go in, my Lord?”
With a smile, Lord Marcus slapped the reins on his horse and replied. “Most certainly we do.”
Lord Marcus signaled with his hand for his men to follow. The group of Englishmen rode side-by-side toward the village, approaching with a slow pace and making sure that the hoofs of their horses resounded throughout the forest. Lord Marcus took the lead, wandering into the village and seeing a series of elderly faces looking upon him with a mixture of concern and horror.
The village elder, speaking with his wife, clearly looked disturbed to Lord Marcus, the two of them speaking with urgent gestures of their hands and eyes as wide as a pair of full moons. After a moment of conversing, the elder approached Lord Marcus and forced the most cordial of smiles that he could muster, bowing and showing his contrition before saying: “My Lord. My name is Richard. I welcome ye humbly to our village.”
“My good man,” Lord Marcus said with a tight-lipped smirk. “My most sincere thanks for such a warm welcome.”
“How can I be of assistance to ye, sir?”
Lord Marcus sighed. “Oh, we are but weary travelers, my friend. We simply seek a quick respite. I was wondering if you and your people would be happy to oblige. And my apologies for arriving so unexpectedly. If this is a trouble to ask, we shall simply go about our way.”
Richard held up his hands. “Not in the slightest, my Lord. We are graced by yer presence.” He turned and gestured behind him. “Would ye care for a drink? Sustenance, perhaps?”
Lord Marcus turned to Henry. “What say you, my friend? Should we take this kind man up on his offer?”
Henry smirked, Lord Marcus sensing that his companion was getting wise to the ruse covered by a thick veneer of pleasantries that he was putting on. “Of course,” he said. “I would very much like to replenish my energy.”
“Come!” Richard said. “This way! We have a small tavern that we built not long ago. I think ye will find it most suitable. I will have my men take care of yer steeds in the meantime.”
“That’s quite alright,” Lord Marcus said as he slid of his saddle, Henry following suit along with him. “My men are capable of looking after themselves. Again, we do not wish to overstay our welcome. We merely need a moment’s rest.”
Richard nodded and bowed. “Of course, my Lord. As ye wish. Come! Please! Allow me to be yer servant during yer respite.”
Lord Marcus and Henry followed Richard as he led them straight ahead to the tavern, a small cottage-looking establishment painted brown and white tones, blending in with earth. The roof was slanted in the front, somewhat covering the top edges of the fogged glass windows in away that made it look like the furrowed brow of a chagrined man.
“Come inside,” Richard said. “It is quite warm in here. I will fetch ye some of the whiskey I was gifted by an old friend, a marvelous concoction. Simply divine.”
Lord Marcus removed his gloves as he looked around the tavern, the entire establishment not much larger than that of his own chambers were Lord Marcus resided. Everything was dark, the hues of the wood and the colors of the counters and walls. A deep aroma of whiskey traced the air, and Lord Marcus pulled out a chair at the table closest to the door and sat down while Richard fetched the liquor.
“I apologize,” Richard said, “but I did not catch yer name.”
“Lord Marcus,” he looked at Henry. “This is my closest confidant Henry.”
Another bow from Richard. “An extreme pleasure to meet the both of ye. I am more than honored that ye chose to stop here.”
Lord Marcus squinted. “I am curious,” he said, “as to who you people are, exactly.”
Richard paused midway between pouring Lord Marcus’ drink, swallowing the lump in his throat as he did so. “I am sorry, Lord Marcus,” he said. “What do ye mean?”
“Oh, simply that this territory is well covered by my people, and yet—I have not heard or seen of you before. To be honest, all of you seem…well, much older than the usual lot of Scotsmen that dwell in these lands.”
Richard laughed. It was more than apparent to Lord Marcus that he was attempting to act coy. “Aye. Indeed. We are…how should I put it? Well, a village of elders without children. Some of those who reside here were unable to have children. The others did not have them by choice. It was only by happenstance that we found this place. We have chosen to live in peace and quiet for sake of not disturbing others. But rest assured, my Lord, we have no quarrel with the crown.”
“I’m sure you do not,” Lord Marcus said.
Richard brought over two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Lord Marcus and the other to Henry. Lord Marcus sniffed the liquor, brought the glass to his lips, and took a sip. He sighed, smiling as he did so before saying: “Now that is quite a fine beverage. Quite a fine beverage, indeed.”
Richard bowed. “The best, my Lord. Absolutely the best.”
Lord Marcus placed down the glass and held up a finger. “There is one thing I must ask of you, my friend.”
Richard nodded. “Anything, my Lord.”
A pause. “Do you happen to know anything about a group of Scotsmen travelling through here? A woman who goes by the name of Rose leads them. Does this sound at all familiar to you?”
Lord Marcus watched as Richard began masking his lie, his eyes twitching as he wringed his fingers. “No, my Lord,” he replied. “I cannot say that I do.�
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“So they have not travelled through here? They did not stay here? They did not partake in your generosity as we have now?”
Lord Marcus flashed a glaring set of eyes, his expression no longer warm and cordial but instead callous and lethal. He tried to instill as much fear as he could into Richard, hoping to break him with just a mere look than a lengthy interrogation.
“Richard,” Lord Marcus said as he leaned in. “I know you know. And you know that I can expend a whirlwind of repercussions upon you if you decide to lie to me. So, take this opportunity to clear your conscience. Know that you will be saving your life and that of your wife and your people by complying. Understand this, and answer me when I ask you one more time truthfully and without a shred of dishonesty.”
Richard licked his lips nervously as he nodded repeatedly.
“Now,” Lord Marcus said, “did a group of Scotsmen led by a woman named Rose come through here?”
Richard paused—and then he nodded.
“Very good,” Lord Marcus said. “Now, do you know where they were headed?”
Richard paused again—and then he nodded again.
“Tell me where,” Lord Marcus said.
Richard sighed, closing his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They headed for the mountain. They approach from the most eastern pathway. They left here but three hours ago.”
Lord Marcus clapped his hands together and stood up, walking up to Richard and placing his hands on his shoulders. “You are a good man,” he said. “And God will reflect on this fondly the day you reach the gates of heaven.”
Richard said nothing, hanging his head as Lord Marcus and Henry took their leave. “Henry,” Lord Marcus said.
“Yes, my Lord?” Henry replied.
Lord Marcus gestured around the village. “Burn this ghastly place to the ground.”
Richard stood with a pale expression as Henry ordered one of his men to light a torch, collapsing onto his knees as Lord Marcus’ men then set about expelling the elders from the village before lighting it ablaze and burning the entirety of it to nothing more than ashes.
Rose looked up as her and the rest of the Scots arrived at the base of the mountain, looming and stretching seemingly forever into the heavens and causing her for the briefest of moments to became awestruck at what she was laying her eyes on. A chill licked at the back of her neck, partly from the breeze, and partly due to the sheer size of the mountain itself, foreboding and towering and covered with a vibrant green hue that turned into the whitest snow toward the peaks.
“It’s incredible,” Rose said to Sean. “I cannot believe I have never witnessed this before.”
Sean nodded. “A sight to see, most certainly. But as I said, it is quite treacherous. We must proceed up the mountain with care. These bandits I speak of loom somewhere…”
“Which path do we take?”
Sean pointed to a pathway that cut through the mountain and branched off into two separate trails that jinked to the left and the right. “We must proceed up one of those pathways. The one of the left, east, takes us directly over the top. The second, west, curves through the mountain in a snakelike fashion. East is easier. But west will most likely have less resistance, in regard to the bandits I speak of. The western route leads to less habitable areas. I would assume our bandits would not wish to take up refuge there.”
Rose bit her lip, pondering her options for a moment. “What do ye think, Sean?”
Sean pointed to the western path. “That way will serve us better. But I want the decision to be left up to ye, Rose. Ye are the leader. These people look to yer example.”
Rose nodded. “Then west is the direction we will take.” She turned to her people. “Be wary, my friends. Now we take the moment. Stay on guard. Stay close together. Do not let anyone out of yer sight.”
The Scots nodded, readying themselves as they began to ride in a collective huddle with Rose and Sean at the lead. They trotted up the dirt pathway that began to slowly curve and rise to the right, the dark of night slowly enveloping the area as the group traversed the terrain.
They rode for close to a half hour in silence, Rose exchanging the occasional glance with Sean and trying to conceal the fact that they confessed their feelings to each other from the others. “It’s not a good time to reveal such information,” Rose said. “We must take it day by day, hour by hour.”
She was thrilled that she had found love with Sean, but apprehensive and reticent nonetheless. It was still new, still tender—and they had much to accomplish in the way of survival before they could even consider indulging in talks of exactly what their love looked like and how they would go about nurturing it.
“Tell me,” Rose said as she rode alongside Sean, “who are these bandits that ye speak of?”
“There are many different tales of their origins that have circulated,” Sean said. “One is that they are a group of individuals who were expelled from tribes for crimes the committed. The other is that they are a group of rogue Englishmen who were expelled for going against orders of the King. Either way, they are a troublesome lot. Those who have encountered them have not walked away unscathed.”
“Do they have a name?”
Sean nodded. “They call themselves ‘The Rot’.”
Rose winced, the name instilling an immediate sense of fear in her. “A ghastly name,” she noted. “Hopefully, we will not encounter them.”
“I trust we will do just fine. After all, we have Rose MacGillis escorting us—fearless leader of the Scots.”
Rose smiled at Sean’s compliment, feeling herself comforted at his more relaxed demeanor now that he had confessed his feelings. “Ye know,” she said, “it is so bizarre—I have feelings for ye, yet I do not know much about ye.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Yer past, who ye truly are. I imagine a man like ye was not always a wanderer. I would think that ye had a life before ye went by the name ye took.”
Sean turned away, a frown forming in his face. Rose could sense the history welling up inside of him, the things he did not wish to say but were still lingering on the tip of his tongue nonetheless. “We all have a past,” he said. “Perhaps it’s best if we just leave it there.”
“Come now, Sean,” Rose insisted. “I want to know ye. I wish to know more about ye. We have a long journey up the mountain.”
“Aye, about a day’s worth. And we shall have to take rest at some point.”
“Then indulge me. Tell me more about ye. Ye tell me something, I will tell ye something.”
Sean huffed, Rose sensing his affliction as he squinted and winced. The pain for him is unbearable, she pondered. Something happened to this man, something dire…I just wish he would tell me what troubles him so.
“I worry,” Sean said, “that if I tell ye, ye will not look at me the same anymore.”
Rose shook her head. “I very much doubt that…”
Sean drew a breath, opening his mouth and preparing to tell the story—and then his eyes went wide, his head swiveling around as he spotted something ahead of them in the terrain that cause him to flinch.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
Sean held up his fist, ordering the rest of the Scot to come to a halt. He paused for a moment, then rested his palm on the handle of his sword before saying: “They’re here…The Rot is looking right at us.”
Chapter Twenty
Sean couldn’t see the Rot. There were no outward signs that they were in the vicinity—but he could feel their presence, like a tickling in the back of his mind that caused all of his senses to stand on edge. He could hear the wind blowing through the grass, the subsequent ceasing of birds chirping. An eerie silence overcame everything in the immediate vicinity, and he slowly pulled out his sword and prepared for himself for the inevitable fight that was about to commence.
“Where are they?” Rose asked him, cozying up alongside Sean as she slowly inched her hand toward her own weapon.
Sean shook h
is head, his eyes still scanning the area, squinting and looking for anything out of place. “I don’t know,” he replied. “But I can feel them. They are not far. They linger close by.”
Rose turned slowly around on her horse, looking at her people, all of them sensing that something was awry as they began to pull out their swords and bows and dismounted their horses. She held up her hand, pointing to several of the Scots in succession and giving them a series of hand gestures.
Sean could see that the Scots knew their jobs well, and slowly began to space themselves out as they ushered their horses off to the side. “Stay sharp,” he said. “They’re getting closer…”
Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 17