“We must band together,” Sean continued. “I know what I am asking is more than yer fair share…but together we can save her. Together we can defeat Lord Marcus and his denizens. Ye are the ones that struck fear into the hearts of the English. Ye are the ones who are capable of turning the tide. So, join with me. Fight with me. Help me rescue the woman that changed all of our lives for the better…”
Sean looked at each member of the Scots, all of them exchanging subtle glances as he witnessed his words being processed by them.
Brandon, nodding, took a step forward and looked Sean square in the eye. “I do not like ye, Wanderer,” he said. “I do not respect ye…but ye speak the truth. Rose is the one that made us who we are…so, we will fight with ye. We will rejoin forces and bring her from the brink of death.”
Sean felt relief wash over him in waves, Brandon then extending his hand for Sean to shake it. Smiling, Sean slapped his palm into Brandon’s hand, shook it, and said: “It’s time to bring the fury to their doorstep,” before they all mounted their horses and rode hard and fast toward the English stronghold.
Chapter Thirty
The key inserting into the lock of the door outside the cell sent a shiver up Rose’s spine. She drew a breath, her lips trembling as she tried to compose herself. This is it, she thought. The moment has arrived. There is no more staving it off, no more fighting it…I have reached the end of the line…
The door slowly opened, and Rose stood from her chair and smoothed the wrinkles on her gown. Stand tall. Stand proud. Do. Not. Give. Them. An. Inch.
It felt as if an eternity passed as the door opened, Rose waiting for what felt like an interminable stretch of time as the wooden door creaked on its hinges. Two English knights then entered, standing on their guard with one of them sporting a pair of shackles in his hand. They stood apart, making way for none other than Lord Marcus as he walked in, folded his hands behind his back, and waited at attention.
Lord Marcus and Rose connected gazes, staring at each other with nothing shy of fire in their eyes.
“The time has come,” Lord Marcus said. “Are you ready to face it?”
Accept yer fate. Let him do what he is going to do. Ye will die a legend. Ye will serve as an example to the rest of the Highlanders that ye will never give in to men like this. “I am not afraid,” she said. “I am ready to face my fate.”
Lord Marcus approached the bars. “You are sure,” he said, “that you will not give up the location of your companions?”
Rose shook her head defiantly from side-to-side. “I will die alone. I will face whatever consequences of the actions that were taken on my own.”
Lord Marcus sighed. “I will eventually find the other Scots,” he said. “They will face the same fate that you are about to.”
Rose came up to the bars, gripping onto them and staring at Lord Marcus unblinkingly. “Enough talk,” she said. “Do what ye are going to do.”
Lord Marcus held his chin high, smiling as he did so. “You are brave woman. Foolish, but brave.”
They waited for several moments, Lord Marcus then standing aside and motioning for one of his men to open the cell. The man approached, inserting a key into the lock and swinging the cell door open. He stepped inside, shackling Rose’s wrists and causing her heart to beat to the point that it was pounding against her ribcage. The shackles were secured, the knight brought her out of the cell, and she was escorted out of the room and taken outside to the courtyard where a wooden stage was set up with a noose at the ready and a hangman with a black sack stood to the side with his hand on a lever.
Rose felt more fear than she ever had in her life as the knights brought her outside. A gaggle of English soldiers and maidens and other works were corralled in the area, waiting with anticipatory gazes as she was escorted up the steps to the stage. My God, she thought. If there is a chance to spare me, spare me. I want to live. I want to see my people again. I want to see Sean. Please, God! If there is a way for me to survive this, please help me now!
Rose was shaking, though she did her best not to. She made it a point not to make eye contact with anyone, holding her head high and putting on her best display of strength. The emotions that were swirling inside of her as she was brought up onto the stage were so potent and unwavering that she felt as if she was on the verge of passing out.
The knight positioned Rose in the center of the stage, the hangman coming up behind her and waiting with his hands folded in front of him, awaiting his orders as an ominous silence settled over the scene.
Lord Marcus stood at the front of the stage, all eyes on him as he cleared his throat and made it a point to look around at each witness in attendance. Time passed. It was only seconds, but it felt like minutes. Rose kept her gaze on nothing in particular, trying her best to settle her mind as she came to terms with her fate.
“All of you,” Lord Marcus called out, “are about to pray witness to an execution.” He gestured over his shoulder to Rose. “This woman, this traitor, is responsible for the death of the King’s nephew, a crime that will not be tolerated in any regard whatsoever. I want this woman’s death to serve as an example to you all—you cannot go against the crown. You cannot fight the rule of the English. We are the authority in these lands. We are the ones who state what the law is, and this woman here has chosen to break those laws without a shred of remorse. This cannot stand. This will not stand. This woman, Rose MacGillis, had committed crimes against the crown, and she will be executed swiftly for said crimes with extreme prejudice.”
Rose shook her head, defiant until the very end. Accept it, she thought. This is how ye shall die. Ye did the right thing. Ye are going to a better place…
Lord Marcus turned and faced Rose, pointing to her before saying: “Do you wish to speak your mind before you meet your fate?”
Rose debated for a long moment, deciding if she should or could say anything—and she did. “These are Scottish lands,” she said. “Our people have been oppressed for too long. I fought against tyranny and oppression, and I do not regret a single action that I have taken. I hope my death will inspire those who come after me to not bow to men like Lord Marcus. I have no regrets, none whatsoever…and I gladly accept my fate.”
Lord Marcus stared on for a long moment. “So, be it,” he said before nodding his approval to the hangman.
The hangman came up behind Rose, grabbing the noose and placing it around her neck. This is it, Rose thought. This is the moment of truth. Accept it. Think of nothing but the ones ye love. Oh, my dear Sean. My family. My friends. I love ye all and I will see ye on the other side.
The hangman secured the noose, nodding to Lord Marcus and standing back as he walked over to the lever that would drop her and snap her neck. He rested his grip on the handle, waiting for Lord Marcus to give the order.
Lord Marcus, doublechecking that everything was in place, came onto the stage and leaned into Rose’s ear.
“Your words mean nothing,” he said. “You will die, and so will the rest of your countrymen in due time. Your death means nothing. You mean nothing.”
Rose was scowling, feeling the fibers of the rope around her neck digging in and making her skin raw. “Do what yer going to do, ye bastard,” she seethed as she closed her eyes and waited for the trapdoor to drop.
Lord Marcus shrugged, standing off to the side and holding his hand in the air. “On my command,” he said.
Rose felt her breathing go shallow, her moment of fate only seconds away. God, she prayed inside her head. Guide me to yer gates. Show me mercy. Grant peace and strength to my friends and family and all of those that will follow after me. Watch over them. Keep them safe…and guide Sean to safe passage. Grant him happiness. Grant him peace. I thank ye for all that ye have done…and I hope to see ye on the other side.
Lord Marcus held his hand higher, looking at Rose with a scowl as he prepared to give the order. “One!” he shouted.
Rose’s body trembled. Ye are alright…
; “Two!”
Ye will see yer friends and family that have passed soon.
“Three!”
Lord, grant me strength!
The hangman went to pull the lever—and then an arrow shot through the air, slicing perfectly through the noose tied around Rose’s neck and severing it just as she fell through the ramp. She hit the dirt, her neck unbroken and eyes no wide as everyone in attendance looked around for the source of where the arrow was shot from.
“What in God’s name?” Lord Marcus said under his breath as he pulled his sword.
Two seconds passed…three…and then a flurry of arrows were shot at all the English knights in attendance from around the courtyard, several of them dropping to their knees and perishing as Sean, Brandon, and the rest of the Scots flooded onto the scene and began to engage all of the English will full force.
Rose, sitting upright underneath the stage, took a moment to gather her bearings as her mind adjusted to what was happening. Everything around her had turned into sheer madness, Knights and Scots engaging one another with sheer ferocity as she saw Brandon, who she had never suspected to see again, running up to her with a dagger in hand and a satisfied smile on his face.
“My lady,” Brandon said as he held up the dagger, “it’s time to get ye out of here.”
Brandon began to cut Rose free of her restraints, removing the noose around her neck and picking the locks on her shackles with the tip of his blade for several moments until they opened and fell to the ground.
Rose was smiling, sheer relief washing over her as she stood up. “Thank God in heaven,” she said. “Thank ye, Brandon. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Thank me later,” he replied before nodding over his shoulder at the ensuing fight. “We have much work to do before a conversation can be had.”
Brandon then removed a sword from his belt, slapped it in Rose’s palm, and pulled her to her feet. They rushed toward the ongoing fight, engaging men left and right and fighting for their lives as Englishman and Scots went about the fight of their lives.
Rose saw Sean from several feet away, rushing toward him as she struck down a knight and wrapping her arms around him. “My love!” she said. “I never thought I would see ye again!”
Sean kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I know,” he replied. “But we must talk later. More pressing matters are at hand. Engage the men on the left. I will engage the ones on the right.”
They parted, both of them taking on the onslaught of English knights. The Scots and the English fought ferociously, the Scots moving with an unmatched swiftness as they were struck down one by one by one.
Lord Marcus, fighting alongside his man Henry, struck down two of the Scots before saying: “Fetch reinforcements! Now!”
“Marcus!” Henry said. “We must—”
But his words were cut short, an arrow burying itself into Henry’s chest over the area of his heart and dropping him to his knees. Lord Marcus’ eyes went wide as he grabbed his dear friend, cradling him in his arms and shaking his head as he watched Henry’s face go pale.
“It is okay,” Henry said. “It is okay…”
Before Lord Marcus could say another word, Henry’s eyes rolled over and his body went slack. He passed quickly, before Lord Marcus could bid him his goodbyes. Opening his mouth to offer up a prayer, Lord Marcus was cut off by Sean’s voice shouting out: “Marcus!” from directly behind him.
Lord Marcus stood, scowling as he clutched his sword tight in his hand and spun around on his heel. There Sean stood, ready to engage, the rest of the Scots taking down the English and forcing them to retreat outside the courtyard. Only Sean and Marcus now stood there, facing off, ready to engage and waiting for the other to strike.
“Your time has come,” Lord Marcus said as he charged forward, raising his sword high and bringing it down in downward scythe.
Sean and Lord Marcus exchanged blows, both of them trying to gain the upper hand on the other. Both of them were equally matched, both of them nearly striking down the other as they fought viciously and unforgivingly.
Lord Marcus swiped over Sean’s head, nearly beheading him, but Sean had ducked under just in time as he parried and pushed Lord Marcus back. Lord Marcus attempted to stab Sean in the chest, but Sean blocked the blow and pushed Lord Marcus onto his back.
Sean came in for the killing stroke, but Lord Marcus kicked him in the knees and dropped him onto his back. Knowing he had the advantage, Lord Marcus stood up, prepared to bring his sword down for a killing stroke—but he was struck in the back by three arrows from one of the Scots, dropping him to his knees and causing his sword to fall to the ground.
Sean stood, surveying the scene and seeing that most of the English had been dealt with, and the ones that were still standing were in full retreat. He came upon Lord Marcus, sheathing his sword as the man gasped for air as he laid on his side. Sean dropped down onto one knee, sighing as he looked Lord Marcus square in the eye.
“I don’t want to die,” Lord Marcus said, eyes wide and panic coming into his expression. “My God, I don’t want to die!”
He held out his hand to Sean, pleading with his eyes for Sean to grip onto him. Sean obliged, the two men embracing as Sean looked him in the eyes and said: “Go with God, Lord Marcus. Yer suffering is over.”
Lord Marcus, the color draining from his face said: “Forgive me, please.”
Sean nodded. “Ye are forgiven, my friend…ye are forgiven…”
Drawing one last breath, Lord Marcus’ eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto his back. Had Sean possessed the ability to see things through Lord Marcus’ eyes—he would have known that the last thing he saw was the face of his wife, greeting him at the pearly gates of heaven.
Sean stood up, looking at Lord Marcus’ body as the scene around him settled and Rose came up behind him. They were covered in dirt and soot, both of them panting as Sean looked around the scene and saw that they were the victors.
“Is it over?” Rose said. “Have we won?”
Sean pulled Rose in close, hugging her tighter than he ever had before as he felt the adrenaline slowly start to wear off. “It is over, my love,” he said. “It is over…”
They held each other close, the rest of the Scots cheering over their victory as the remaining English knights fled from the scene, and the dust slowly, slowly, began to settle.
Chapter Thirty-One
The bodies of the fallen Scots were all gathered in a field not far from where the final battle had taken place. There were six in total, all of the lined up alongside each other as a funeral pyre was built by those who had survived.
Sean watched on with Rose, his arm around her shoulder as Brandon set about organizing the procession with the rest of the Scots. Everyone was weary, depleted, but nonetheless elated at the fact that the English had been defeated and driven from the land.
Sean, feeling as if he could pass out at any moment, said to Rose: “We have been successful. We depleted over three-quarters of their numbers.”
Rose looked up at her love. “But what of retribution? Will they not attempt to come after us after what has transpired?”
“It is possible,” Sean said with a shrug. “But we will be far away from here by the time word reaches the King. I imagine he will attempt to organize his men and try to find us, but we will be so far gone by that time that it will be nearly impossible for him to track us down.”
Rose coiled her arms around Sean, closing her eyes as she took comfort in his embrace. “Ye came back for me,” she said. “I knew that ye would. I was so scared, but…somehow I knew that ye would return.”
“I could not leave ye there,” Sean said. “And I regret having walked away when I did.”
Rose reached her hand up and delicately stroked Sean’s face. “It is in the past, Sean. All is well. Ye saved me. I will be forever grateful for that fact.”
They looked on as a torch was lit, Brandon standing in front of the bodies of the fallen Scots and hanging
his head as he prepared to give his eulogy. He looked to Rose, Rose nodding her approval as he set about speaking his final words of respect to those who had fallen.
“We have been victorious today,” Brandon said. “The ultimate sacrifice was made, and our freedom has finally been earned. I do not relish in the slightest that friends have fallen, but what they have done has secured our safety, it has allowed us the freedom to find a new home, and I will be forever grateful to them for that fact.”
Rose took a step forward, Sean whispering encouragement in her ear as she set about speaking words of respect to their fallen comrades. She approached the funeral pyre, wiping the tears from her eyes as she cleared her throat and stood side-by-side next to Brandon.
Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 26