by Barbara Bard
Fists clenched. Jaws clenched. Chins were jutted.
“I am tired of war,” Sir Jessup continued. “I no longer wish to serve and fight and suffer.” He looked at his men. “But we have no choice. We have been given a mission, and it is up to us to complete that mission.” He held up a finger. “As God as my witness, however, it is my stern intention to rectify what has happened here today. The death of Sir Renly and the others only fuels the rage that was already burning inside of me…If the Highlanders want war—then it is war they shall have.”
The knights in attendance shifted their weight, ready to bring swift justice to the natives who had forced their hand.
“The time has come, gentleman,” Sir Jessup said. “The time has come to bring a swift end to this conflict once and for all…”
Ava awoke to the old man who had been caring for her stirring her awake. “Please!” she heard his voice say. “You must get up now!”
Ava sat up, her wounds already having properly healed. She felt weak, but much better than she did when she had first sustained her injuries.
“What is it?” she inquired as she sat up.
The old man pointed toward the door. “Riders,” he said. “They appear to be Sassenach…and there are quite a few of them.”
Ava threw off the covers. “I must hide! They cannae ken that I am here.”
The old man shook his head. “They already dae, me dear…”
Ava swallowed her fears as she heard the door to the cottage open, followed by the sounds of booted feet moving along the wooden floors. They approached, growing in their volume as Ava braced the sides of the bed and waited for the inevitable.
The door to the room opened—and several knights then walked inside. The man in the lead, sporting garb and colors that appeared to make him the man in charge, looked upon Ava with a neutral expression. It took her a moment, but she then recognized that it was none other than Sir Jessup, the same man who had mounted the double-cross back at the tavern.
“Hello, my dear,” Sir Jessup bid her. “It has been a long time…”
Ava gritted her teeth. “Ye…”
Sir Jessup nodded. “Yes…me.”
“I hae nae a thing tae say tae ye.”
Sir Jessup shook his head, grabbed a chair from the corner, and placed it at the foot of the bed. “I expected you to say that. Rather cliché, no?”
“It is the truth.”
“No, it is not. Because the truth is what I seek from you. The truth is the one thing that will save you from certain demise.”
“I accepted me fate long ago.”
“You speak with a rough tongue, Highlander. I admire your courage.” He sat down in the chair. “As foolish as it may be…”
Time passed. It was only seconds, but it felt as though it were minutes. Sir Jessup, after a beat, pointed to the bandages on Ava and said: “Are you healing well?”
Ava huffed. She so desperately wanted to spit in the man’s face. “Aye…I am.”
A squint from Sir Jessup. “Was that mine or my men’s doing? Did we hurt you?”
Ava shook her head. “Nae. It was a band of thieves.”
Sir Jessup heartrate picked up, thoughts of the fallen Sir Renly now running through his mind. “Ah, yes…I believe I encountered the same men as well.”
“It is tae bad they did nae kill ye.”
“Not a very nice thing to say.”
“What dae ye want? Just tell me so I can tell ye tae crawl back into the hell ye came from.”
Sir Jessup held up a finger. “I tire of this, young lady. I will not get into some kind of spitting match with you that will do nothing more than waste my time.”
Ava shrugged. “Then ye best kill me. I hae nae a thing tae say tae ye…”
Sir Jessup perched forward. “Is that really how you want to proceed?”
Ava nodded. “I am loyal to me clan. I shall die holding onto our secrets. I will nae give ye what it is ye seek. I will nae allow me people tae be destroyed…”
Sir Jessup was fuming. His breath was like hot fire as he sat there and listened to Ava insistence to not give into his will. He then looked at the knights with him in the room, motioned to the door, and said: “Can you give us a moment. Please?”
The knights nodded and left. The old man tending to Ava was the only one that remained in the room.
“You as well, my friend,” Sir Jessup said.
The old man hesitated for a moment. But when Ava nodded to give her approval, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Sir Jessup stood up with a sigh. He moved to the window, the golden rays of the Scotland sun cutting through and offering a brief respite of warmth in what was otherwise a bout of gloomy weather. “I,” he began, “am about to tell you things that I have never told anyone before. Things about myself. Things I have never confessed to anyone else…”
Ava was intrigued—and fearful. She waited for Sir Jessup to continue on with his speech.
“My wife and child were taken from me,” Sir Jessup said. “I loved them more than life itself. I cannot even begin to tell you the joy that they brought to me in the years that they were around. When…” the memories made him choke, “when they were gone…I could not fathom how I could live. It seemed like even a task as simple as consuming a meal required every bit of effort I had.”
Sir Jessup paused, Ava shifting her weight as he mustered the courage to continue on with his story.
“Life seemed bland after they passed,” he continued. “No…No, bland is not the proper word…without hope. That seems more accurate. Anyway…it took me a long time to recover. I still do not believe that I have. Once I did manage to get a grip on reality, at least my new reality, I felt as if I was just…functioning. Living but not really being alive, if that makes any sense.”
As much as Ava despised the Sassenach knight in front of her, she was able to empathize with his words all too well.
Sir Jessup held up a finger. “But though I barely clung to life,” he continued. “Though I barely managed to carve myself out a meaningful existence, at least one that could be considered meaningful, all of it was most certainly due to a man I considered to be my greatest friend. My brother, to be more accurate…”
Ava waited as Sir Jessup turned and faced her fully. As she did, her hand surreptitiously began to slide under the covers, toward the dagger she kept at the ready in case she needed to use it.
“Just yesterday,” Sir Jessup said, “my friend, Sir Renly, was killed by a band of thieves, the same band of thieves that we spoke of just moments ago…” He laughed. “I swear…I swear that Sir Renly was the only thing keeping me sane in these times of great strife. When he was killed…” he felt the anger welling up inside of him, “I think that the last shred of my sanity was destroyed along with him.”
Sir Jessup looked away, Ava curling her fingers around the dagger and praying that Sir Jessup would inch closer so she could bury it right into his neck.
“I was never an evil man,” Sir Jessup said. “I was never desperate, never eager to inflict pain or destruction onto others. But once he died, once he perished from this earth…” he sighed, “I fear that my last shred of dignity perished along with him.”
Sir Jessup then approached Ava, his breathing heavy and chest puffing out. “When Sir Renly was killed, it cemented a fact about my being—it made me a ruthless man, and this is something that I never thought would have been possible.”
Ava’s grip was on the dagger fully as she sat up, ready and hoping as Sir Jessup inched closer to end his life with a swift and graceful stabbing motion.
“But I am that man now,” Sir Jessup said. “I have become the man that so many have feared I would become. I am ruthless, now. And I will do whatever is necessary to do what needs to be done…So…I will ask you one last time, my dear…” he came to the side of her bed. “Where does the Baird clan reside? Tell me now before this situation spirals out of control.”
Ava smiled. “Yer ta
le has not struck me, Sir Jessup. I dinnae care about who ye are or what has afflicted ye. I will hold onto the location of me clan until me dying breath. That being said—dae what ye think needs tae be done…”
Sir Jessup sighed and hung his head. “So that is how it will be?”
Ava nodded. “That is how it will be.”
He huffed. “I cannot tell you how disappointed I am…”
Ava shrugged. “Then perhaps this will ease yer suffering…” She withdrew the dagger, striking it forward and attempting to bury it into Sir Jessup’s neck—but Sir Jessup caught her hand, spun it around, and buried it square into her chest.
Ava gasped, the blade digging into her heart as Sir Jessup stared at her with a regretful set of eyes.
“Damn you,” Sir Jessup said. “This is not how I wanted this to be…”
With her dying breath, Ava fell back into the bed, scowled, and said: “Damn ye tae hell,” before passing away swiftly into the unknown.
Sir Jessup stood back as Ava passed away. He shook his head, deeply chagrined as Ava’s lifeless body began to take on a pale shade. He then left the room, told his knights of what transpired, and ordered them to burn the cottage to the ground. Per his orders, the knights removed the old man and his wife, sent them on their way, and stood back as the domicile was engulfed in flames. Sir Jessup was regretful, but he knew he did what needed to be done.
Not far off in the distance, Lord Torstein watched as the fire engulfed the cottage, his jaw clenched along with his fist as he watched Sir Jessup mount his horse and take off toward his location with his knights in tow. Lord Torstein rode as quickly as he could back to the Baird’s village to inform them that the attack on them was imminent.
Chapter 34
Finlay was glancing out the window in his cottage, his eyes fixated on the mountains.
He was curious as to the fate of the Bairdsmen and their meeting with the McManus clan. He sighed, contemplating on the last time he was ever able to truly relax. Perhaps it had been years. There were brief moments of respite, sure, but it felt as if he’d been fighting his entire life.
He missed his children and he hated that they had to be sent away, but their safety was the most important this at the moment.
He recalled his last conversation with Eamon and his eyes started to sting.
“Father?” a reluctant voice had called out from the doorway.
Finlay had turned and seen his son, Eamon, standing hesitantly in the doorway, leaning half-in, half-out, waiting for his father to give him permission to come in.
“Aye, me son? Come here. Come noo.”
Eamon had rushed up to him, Finlay scooping the child up and placing him on his lap. “When will I be able tae take up a sword, father?”
Finlay had squinted at the question. “What makes ye ask that?”
“Because all the people in the village hae been.”
Finlay had looked away, wishing that the last fact wasn’t a reality. “I ken,” he said to his son. “But it is only a precaution.”
Eamon wrinkled his nose. “I dinnae like them—swords, bows. I dinnae like it. I dinnae like that we are always fighting.”
Finlay felt his heart sink into his stomach at the memory of his son’s statement. He had never wanted his children to know a life like this. He had fought enough in his youth to ensure that—but apparently his efforts had fallen short.
“Why, father?” young Eamon had asked.
“Why, what, son?”
“Why dae we always fight?”
Finlay had taken a moment to muster the proper words. “People…Life is difficult, me son.”
‘’There are bad people out there, Eamon. They wish tae bring harm tae others.”
“Like the Sassenach?”
“Aye, like the Sassenach.”
“Are they all bad? All the Sassenach?”
‘’Naw. Not all of them.’’
Finlay paused at this thought, processing it. His mind drifted directly to Christian. He did not seem like a threat, that much was true, but those were dire times.
He knew deep inside that if it wasn’t for Gavina he would not have allowed him to stay. It was too much that was put at stake.
His thoughts returned to his sweet son and their conversation; how he had tried to protect him from life’s cruel truths and help him understand what is good and right.
“Remember, Eamon. Suffering builds character. It makes ye stronger. Each time ye are forced tae defend yerself, it makes you stronger than ye were before.” He had told him.
Eamon had jutted his chin. “But I am plenty strong!”
Finlay had ruffled his son’s hair. “Aye, lad. Ye are, indeed…”
The sound of hoofbeats became audible off in the distance and drew him back to the present.
It sounded like many horses were approaching. Finlay gathered himself for the meeting.
He stood and moved to the doorway. He squinted and saw just shy of fifty men on horseback approaching the village with Gavina and the other Bairdsmen taking the charge.
“Finlay,” Gavina said as the group came to a stop, gesturing to Rory. “This is Rory McManus. He is the leader of the McManus clan.”
Rory nodded. He dismounted his horses and extended his hand to Finlay. “Ye are Finlay Baird?”
Finlay nodded and shook his hand. “Aye.”
“I hae heard much aboot ye. I ken of yer brothers. I fought with them many years ago.”
“Aye. Yer name was mentioned by them on several occasions.”
Rory glanced around. “Are they here? I would enjoy bidding them hello.”
Finlay shook his head. “They died many years ago…”
Rory huffed. “I am sorry.”
Finlay waved the comment away and began leading Rory toward the center of the village. “I maist ask,” he said.
“About?”
“About how it is ye came tae an agreement with Gavina, in regard tae helping us defend our village.”
Rory shrugged. “Ye ken, I believe.”
Finlay smirked. “So, it was the gold then?”
Rory nodded. “Aye. It was the gold.”
“I should naw be surprised. Ye hae naw helped a Highlander clan before.”
Rory folded his hands behind his back, his gaze on the ground with a smirk to accompany it. “That sounds like ye are naw pleased.”
“As a fellow Scotsman, I would hae expected ye tae take up arms with any of yer fellow countrymen in time of need.”
“I did that plenty. It only yielded more death and destruction.”
“Yet, ye are helping us noo.”
“As I said before—the price was right.”
Finlay stopped in his tracks and looked Rory in the eye. “That is what concerns me.”
Rory tilted his head. “Ye are the one who paid me, noo ye find a problem with this arrangement?”
“I hae naw doubt that ye will fight with us. Me concern is that if matters turn dire, ye will flee with yer clan. Yer alliance with us is one built on payment, nae trust.”
Rory huffed. Looked away. “I am naw coward, Finlay Baird…but I understand yer concerns. I can see how this situation maist looks from yer perspective.”
Finlay took a step forward. “Ye ken that the Sassenach will naw stop until they hae wiped us all from the face of the earth.”
“Ye say this like it is a new fact of living.”
“I say it because I hope ye will see that the time has come tae put an end tae all of this. I just pray that when the moment arrives, that pivotal moment that will turn the tide—ye will help us dae what needs tae be done, regardless of gold is involved or naw…”
Rory took a moment. He was heeding Finlay’s words well, it in was becoming hard for him to turn his back on the inevitability that a final stand against the oppressive Sassenach would soon have to be made.
“Finlay,” the voice of Lord Torstein called out. “There is a problem with the barricade…”
Finlay and Rory
turned their heads to lay eye on Lord Torstein as he approached. As soon as Rory looked at him, however, nothing shy of a fevered state overcame his wrinkled expression.
“Bastard,” Rory seethed as he clenched his fists.
It appeared that Lord Torstein knew him as well, stopping dead in his tracks with his mouth agape as he looked into Rory’s eyes.
Finlay, sensing that a fight was imminent, made it a point to stand between both men. “What is the meaning of this?”