by Barbara Bard
“Gavina,” she called out. “She is fading!”
Gavina cursed under her breath, searching around frantically across the Highlands for signs of refuge. “We are tae fae from the village,” she said. “We will nae make it in time.”
“We maist think fast!” Lachlan said. “We cannae—”
“Look!” Christian called out as he pointed.
All eyes follow the direction of his finger. They saw, just off in the distance, a cabin nestled in the mountain. A plume of smoke rose from a chimney, and a figure looked at them with a squinted expression and a broom in their hand.
The Bairdsmen asked no questions as they rode as hard and fast as they could toward the cabin. The figure out in front came into clearer view as they approached—an older, silver-haired woman with a simple appearance and well past her youthful years. She looked concerned but not scared, a common trait amongst most Highlanders in the region.
The Bairdsmen stopped in a huddle a few feet from the woman. Gavina dismounted her horse first and looked at the woman pleadingly.
“Please,” she said. “One of our own has been injured. Can ye help us…Please?”
The woman looked Gavina in the eye and then each of the other Bairdsmen in succession. She then nodded, calling out to someone named Wallace inside of the cabin. A moment later, an older man who moved somewhat slow emerged and looked at the group that had arrived at his home with a curious glint in his eye.
“What is all of this, Gellis?” the old man Wallace inquired to his wife.
“Fellow Highlanders,” the old woman Gellis replied. “They are in need of our assistance.”
Wallace approached Ava and saw the arrow protruding from her back as the other Bairdsmen dismounted their horses.
“Aye,” Wallace said. “I hae seen such wounds before. Quickly, bring her inside. I can help her.”
Lachlan, Tessa, and Christian helped Ava dismount from her horse. Ava moaned and wailed, passing in-and-out of consciousness as they led her into the cabin. The cabin itself was quaint, a modest dwelling that catered to the older couple’s taste.
“Here,” Wallace said, leading them to one of the only two bedrooms. “Lay her down here.”
Lachlan, Tessa, and Christian slowly laid Ava on the bed on her side.
“Gellis,” Wallace said to his wife. “Fetch me the necessary tools from the cupboard.” Gellis retreated into the next room as Wallace took a closer look at Ava’s injuries. “The rest of ye,” Wallace said, “need tae leave the room. I shall call ye if I require yer assistance.”
The group left in a reluctant fashion into the next room, all of them concerned for Ava’s condition as they lingered in the cabin.Gellis, having fetched a bundle of supplies for Wallace, spoke with him in hushed tones for a few moments before leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him. She approached the Bairdsmen, looking them all up from head-to-toe.
“Ye are Scotsmen,” Gellis said.
“Aye,” Gavina replied. “We are members of the Baird clan.”
“Aye, the Baird clan. I hae heard tales before of ye and yer people. I am Gellis. My husband’s name is Wallace.”
Gavina held a hand to her chest. “I am Gavina,” she said. “This is Lachlan, Tessa, and Christian.”
Gellis squinted as she laid eyes on Christian, spotting garb and a strong set of facial features that she associated with only one particular type of person.
“He is a Sassenach knight,” she said with concern. “Is he nae?”
Christian took a step forward. “Yes. I am. But I do not fight for them any longer. I am a friend to the Baird’s.”
Gellis shook her head. “I hae heard such lies before…”
“I promise you that I have no loyalty to the crown. I am hunted by them just as the Baird’s are. I sought to help bring peace to this region, but it has only made me an enemy of my people. I am not here to bring you harm.”
Gellis took a moment to look Chrisitan over—still skeptical. Gavina then took the opportunity to step in and say: “I can vouch for this man. He is on our side. He will bring you no harm. I can guarantee it.”
Gellis took a moment to hear her fellow Highlander’s words before nodding in approval. She then set about making them all a meal as Wallace tended to Ava. Each of them waited in eager anticipation as they ate, hoping that all would be well.
An hour later, Wallace emerged from the back room, wiping the blood from his hands with a cloth as the Bairdsmen stood and awaited his news.
“She will be alright,” Wallace said.
Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief.
“When will she be able tae ride?” Lachlan inquired.
Wallace shook his head. “Not for a while. But ye are all welcomed tae stay while she mends.”
“We dinnae hae time,” Gavina said. “We maist return tae our villae tae inform our people.”
“How far is from here?”
“A few hours ride. We can return with haste once we hae reached our fellow clansmen and informed them of our current predicament.”
“That is fine. I shall keep a close eye on yer warrior in the meantime.”
The Bairdsmen then set out and mounted their horses, riding with fury towards their village a few hours away. Gavina, seated tall on top of her horse, continued to breath with heavy panting as she worried about the condition of not just Ava, but her entire clan as well. Gavina knew that time was running out, and they would only have so long before Sir Jessup and his army finally caught up with them.
Lachlan, cozying up alongside Gavina as they rode, whispered into her ear: “War is coming, Gavina. Dae ye sense it?”
She looked at him and nodded. “Aye,” she said. “War is maist certainly imminent…”
Chapter 21
Sir Jessup was in his quarters, stroking his chin and keeping his gaze fixated on the roaring flames in the stone fireplace in front of him. Never before had he been so frustrated in his life. First, the Highlanders had evaded him, then Lord Torstein betrayed him, then the Highlander Glenn had fallen, and now Lord Torstein had escaped. He felt as if he was losing control, no longer holding a grip on his reality or his mission to do the king’s bidding.
Sir Renly entered the room, slowly. He knew that Sir Jessup was still more than slightly dismayed at the fact that so many failures had befallen him as of late.
“Jonathan,” Sir Renly said. “Can I get you anything?”
Sir Jessup laughed. “Fetch me the wine from the table over there,” he said, pointing to the table with the half-depleted flagon of wine on top.
Sir Renly sighed and grabbed the bottle. “How much have you had?”
“Are you my mother now?” Sir Jessup said as he took the bottle.
A shrug. “I just have not seen you drink this much before.”
“I can handle it.”
“It dulls the senses.”
Sir Jessup bit the cork, pulled it off, and spit it out. “That is the idea…” He swigged, resting his head back against his seat as he stared on at the fire. “When is the last time you drank, my friend? It has been quite a spell.”
Sir Renly shook his head. “I stopped after the death of my son.”
Sir Jessup said nothing. He knew the story well. His friend was never the same after the events of that day. With all the sincerity he mustered, he said: “I am sorry, my friend. I know what kind of burden that was for you.”
Sir Renly said nothing. He couldn’t say much after that day had transpired.
“Did you ever imagine you would be in this place?” Sir Jessup said, motioning around. “In these God-forsaken Highlands?”
“I do not mind it.”
“Because we have been wanderers for quite some time. I cannot recall the last time I have seen home, or the last time I wasn’t taking out the sword against an enemy.”
Sir Renly sighed. “I do not even know what the enemy looks like anymore.”
Sir Jessup took another swig. “We are pawns, my friend. Mindle
ss denizens of the king.” He laughed. “I feel that he knew this when he assigned us this campaign. He took the most broken men in his stable and sent them to do his bidding.”
Sir Renly crossed his arms. “I have been thinking of the very same thing, as of late.”
Sir Jessup squinted. “Whatever do you mean?”
Sir Renly took a moment to grab a chair and pull it up alongside Sir Jessup.
“Who are we?” he asked.
“I do not understand.”
“Well…in any situation, in warfare such as the one we are engaged in, there is a good side and a bad side, no?”
“Simply putting it, but I understand what you are driving at.”
“The king believes he is on the side of good, and the Highlanders resting on the side of the bad.”
“I cannot say I disagree…”
Sir Renly shook his head. “And that is what troubles me. Think long and hard over the years that our people have been here. How much violence and strife has been carried out in the name of our country?”
Sir Jessup said nothing—but the history of it all was playing back in vivid colors through his mind.
Sir Renly waved him off. “I speak too much,” he said. “I do not know what I am trying to say.”
Sir Jessup shook his head. “Continue,” he said. “This conversation amuses me.”
Sir Renly took a moment to conjure more words. “We are the bad men, Jonathan. That is what I am trying to say.”
Sir Jessup leaned forward. “Really? Do you really think that is the case?”
“I do. And I feel that you are forcing yourself to fulfill such a role.”
Sir Jessup said nothing.
“It is true,” Sir Renly said. “As it has been stated before—you are no Lord Henry. You are not evil. You are not ruthless. You merely carry out orders in the name of your king.”
“And I have done so diligently.”
“You have, yes. But when the hour has come for you to do the unthinkable…you have not done it. Even now, as I sit here and critique your methods, you do not fight me. You do not attempt to shut down my theories. You listen, intently, heeding the words that I say. I know you, my friend. I know your heart. I know what drives you…”
Sir Jessup shut his eyes. The past, his past, was playing back viciously inside of his head. He found himself fighting back tears as he said: “The Highlanders are our enemy. It is my job to dispose—”
“You say it like a mantra,” Sir Renly interjected. “But we both know it to not be true.”
“Then what do you suggest, my friend? Please, tell me! Should I drop the sword? Denounce the king?”
“You should do what you feel is right. You should do what your heart tells you.”
Sir Jessup stared with intent at Sir Renly. “My heart?” he said. “Do you know what my heart told me to do? It told me to defend my wife. It told me to protect my child. It told me to be a good father, a good husband, and God himself felt it necessary to rob me of the things I held onto so dearly until they were taken from me. I am a despicable man, my friend. I am the enemy of the Highlanders. The only difference is that I did not choose this life. I did not choose to have everything I love taken from me and obliterated. And now, I function. I fight. I live to serve the king. Oh, my friend, I am the bad man. I am the enemy. But it is not by choice…It is simply how God made me to be…”
Sir Renly stared at his friend for a long moment. He didn’t want to believe Sir Jessup’s words—but the conviction behind them felt all too real.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Sir Renly said.
A knight stuck his head through and bowed. “Sirs,” he said. “There is a small gathering of troops that have arrived outside the castle gates.”
“Who?” Sir Jessup inquired.
“The king’s men,” the knight said. “And they wish to have a word.”
Sir Jessup, Sir Renly, and the knight left Sir Jessup’s quarters and came to the gate at the entrance of the castle. Standing in wait were four men on horses, dressed in pristine garb with the banners of the king’s insignia displayed proudly.
“We wish to speak with Sir Jessup,” the knight in the lead announced.
Sir Jessup took a step forward. “You are speaking with him.”
“May we enter?”
Sir Jessup gave the command for the gate to be opened. Moments later, the knights entered, the gate was closed, and they dismounted their horses.
“How can I help the messengers of the king?” Sir Jessup inquired.
“We are here,” the lead knight said, “with word from the king.”
“I see. May I offer you anything? Food? A drink? Lodgings for the night?”
“That would be most splendid.”
Sir Jessup gave the orders to one of his men. He then proceeded to walk with the lead knight through the courtyard, his hands folded behind his back. “And what news do you bring from the king?”
The knight sucked air through his teeth. “Word has reached him,” he said, “about Lord Torstein and the Bairds, about the ambush at the village, about the death of the Highlander you took into possession.”
Sir Jessup’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”
“And, the king is quite dismayed at this unfortunate turn of events. He wishes to know what is being done about it.” The knight then waited, staring Sir Jessup in the eye and hoping that the answer he would give would be satisfactory.
Sir Jessup shrugged. “We are currently searching for Lord Torstein and the Bairds.”
The knight flexed his brow. “Are you saying Lord Torstein has escaped?”
Sir Jessup cleared his throat. “It is a temporary setback. We will find him. We will find the Bairds. This I can promise you.”
The knight shook his head and continued walking. “This will not fare well with the king.”
“Well, with all due respect to the king, he is not on the ground as I am. He does not know what the conditions are like out here in the Highlands.”
“And I must remind you that it does not matter. The king expects results, and he sent you, his best men, to achieve those results.”
“And they will be achieved. You have my word.”
The lead knight took a long moment. He nodded. “We shall stay here to help you see it through. The king has said that he wishes for this matter to be resolved within the next three weeks. I trust, Sir Jessup, that a man of your caliber can achieve this…Unless I should return word to England that you cannot?”
Sir Jessup knew that the next answer he gave would define everything. With a nod, he said, “It will be done.”
“Good,” the lead knight said. “Then we will stay here and join the campaign until such results are reached. Please, have your men show me to my quarters. I trust that proper lodgings are prepared.” The knight then walked away, Sir Jessup staring at the man with disdain as he walked away with his men.
Sir Renly looked at Sir Jessup. He didn’t need to exchange anything verbally for them to both confirm the obvious, time was running out. The Bairds would have to be dealt with. And the knights that had been sent by the king were, undoubtedly, here to dispose of him should he fail in his mission.
Ava groaned as she sat up in the bed in the cabin. Wallace, seated next to her, gently laid a hand on her chest.
“Where,” Ava said, in a daze, “where is Gavina?”
“Rest noo,” Wallace said. “Yer fellow Highlanders are not here, but they shall return soon.”
Ava looked at her wound and felt a throbbing pain in her temples. “I feel…” she said, weak, “I feel terrible.”
A nod. “And ye will fer some time. But rest is all that will aid ye at this moment.”
She sat back, groaning and wishing that the pain would go away. “The Sassenach…they…they are coming fer us.”
“Ye are quite safe here. I assure ye.”
She shook her head. “War is upon us. I can sense it.”
“That is m
erely the fever speaking. Please, rest. Ye will only make matter worse if ye dinnae dae so.”
Ava said nothing for a moment as Wallace dabbed at her brow with a cool, wet cloth. “What is yer name?” he asked.
“Ava.”
“Well, Ava. I ken of yer clan. I ken all about the Bairds. Ye are tough. Ye will survive this.”