by Alisa Adams
The children watched the smoke ring avidly until it faded away.
Bhric spoke up after a time. “Beak? Will ye tell us more aboot the horses?”
Beak stared at him over his long, thin, bent nose. “Aye, I will.”
And so Beak told them wondrous tales about their horses. Of Dummy, Eckle, Inch, and Teeth. His stories were of the horses’ great adventures and bravery in battles. The children sat spellbound as they listened to the stories of the war horses.
Of Teeth being shot with many arrows that pierced his haunches. How he continued on in the battle, performing bravely for his rider with multiple arrows protruding from his massive hind quarters. His beautiful black coat was no longer black and shiny for he had been burned terribly long ago from cannon fire, and the once black fur never came back. Instead, his coat looked odd and patchy.
Of Inch who was caught with his rider in a siege. He persevered, carrying his rider even though he had been without food for days. He was nothing but a weak skeleton when he made it back to Brough, loyally carrying his severely injured rider.
Eckle made it through intense cannon fire, staying calm and brave throughout for his rider. The big horse suffered terrible injuries and burns from flying debris from the constant barrage of cannons. He was even hitched to the cannon to pull it into place at times, and had to stand that close to the cannon when it went off. He and his rider never regained their hearing, or their jumpiness at loud noises.
“Each of these four big, black geldings made it through many battles, often sleeping beside their rider and keeping him warm,” Beak said dramatically. “At times, it was their rider who never gave up on their horse, pulling Inch or Eckle, Dummy or Teeth, out of the mud or a dangerous bog or seeing to their injuries. They were partners in the worst situations and conditions any of you children can imagine. And these four horses are the last of the war horses of Castle Brough.” Beak paused, looking down his long nose at the children. He reached for his water skin and took a long drink to dampen his parched throat. Then he looked at them all sharply again and added ominously in a booming voice, “Their riders are dead. Gone. The horses were alone. Until now.”
The children let out murmured, reverent noises until Beak spoke again, startling them.
“These horses never quit.” Beak’s voice boomed again. He shoved his hand holding the pipe up to the sky. “They never refused their riders.” Beak spoke in a voice that was full of richness that only added to his recital of the horses’ bravery in battles. “They never gave up, no matter the difficulty or their fear.” Beak’s voice became soft as he looked each child in the eye. “And dinnae ye give up either,” he said as he pointed his pipe at each one of them in turn. “Ye are riding grand war horses. That makes ye all warriors in the making!”
Swan had watched the children as Beak spoke. Their mouths had hung open in awe as they had listened. They had constantly looked behind them to the horses they now saw in a new light. The girls had tears coursing down their cheeks as they held their hands to their mouths. When Beak concluded by saying they were all warriors in the making, each child sat up straight and smiled proudly. After their meal, all of the children went to brush the horses and pick out their hooves, seeing to their comfort and care with a newfound respect and reverence.
Swan watched the children with a gentle and tired smile from where she sat on her tartan. Finally the children finished and came to stand in front of her. Swan looked up at them with surprise.
“Lady Swan?” Grissy said. “Ye are riding Peigi. She is the newest war horse. Ye are her rider. So ye must be a warrior too.” The children all nodded at her and then promptly returned to their blankets, instantly falling asleep in exhaustion after their long day.
Swan sat there stunned. Peigi was indeed the newest, but she would also be the last of the black horses of Brough. The black horses are such a part of Brough, of my family, Swan thought. Very soon, only Peigi would be left. The four geldings the others rode were old. So old.
She laid down with a deep sigh and tears in her eyes when she heard a soft whine. She sat up to see the hound staring at her. He whined very quietly, picking up on her mood. He was on his belly, inching closer to her tartan. She knew that the hound—for she had a hard time calling him Beans—slept near her each night. She would open her eyes in the morning to see him closer than he had been the evening before. His golden eyes would be staring happily at her with his tongue lolling out. One particularly chilly, damp night she had awakened to find him pressed against her legs.
Swan laid her head back down on Peigi’s saddle, pulling her tartan over herself. She reached out her hand to the hound. He came slowly forward on his belly, close enough for her to lay her hand on the hound’s huge, noble head. She stroked it softly, sighing at the warmth of him.
“Good night Beans,” she whispered. “I thank ye for all your help with the bridges and the rabbits ye bring us too.”
She was almost asleep when she felt the hesitant nuzzle of his nose on her hand.
And so their bond was sealed.
Beans was her dog now.
5
Swan led the group the next day along more dirt tracks. As they came around a small hill, three men were walking in the opposite direction towards them. They were coarse and unruly-looking—very thin, their clothing hanging loose on their small frames. They wore ill-fitting trews tied at their waists with rope. Filthy woolen tartans of some indiscriminate unknown color were over their shoulders. One had brogues on his feet, the other two were barefoot, their feet black with the dirt of the road. Their hair was long, hanging past their shoulders. It, too, looked filthy.
Swan swallowed tightly as she saw their expressions change when they saw her and her group.
The men spread across the track, blocking their way.
“Let us pass!” Swan called out firmly.
Swan’s hands tightened on her reins, causing Peigi to rear and let out a neighing scream of anger in response to her mistress’s tone of voice and overly tight hands.
“We willnae be doing what ye say! We want yer horses,” the one with the brogues on his feet said.
The man beside him nudged him and nodded his head towards the women.
“And we want the women too!” he said loudly.
The third man nudged him and pointed to the bags attached to the horses’ saddles.
“And yer food! In the sacks ye have there!”
Swan put her hand on her tosg that lay along Peigi’s sides. She heard the growling of Beans and knew the dog had come to stand beside her and Peigi.
“Call off that wolf or we’ll be slicing his throat,” the man said as he stared at Beans.
Swan looked down at the huge wolfhound. His fur was standing in hackles along his back and he had his lips pulled back, showing his long fangs. His growling and snarling was terribly intimidating. Swan was very proud of him. And glad he was on her side.
Swan nudged Peigi forward towards the men. She towered over them on her tall, black mare. Beans stayed at her side, taking a step with each of Peigi’s.
“If you touch my wolf or any of my people, I will kill you,” she said quietly but firmly. She held Peigi’s reins in one hand. Her other hand was dropped to her thigh where the tosg rested. She tightened her grip on it. “I am Lady Swannoc McKinnon of Castle Brough of Dunnetts Head. You will let us pass.”
“Ha!” the man with the brogues said. “I dinnae care who ye are! I am Murchadh of Mey.” He looked back at his men and laughed with self-importance. Then he turned back to her and nodded at something behind her. “I think I want the old man’s boots too. These brogues are hurting me feet. Now call the wolf off or I’ll kill it.”
The man called Murchadh took another step towards her but stopped at the sound of Bean’s increased snarling. He looked down at the huge, menacing wolfhound and then back up at Swan with an angry scowl that showed several missing teeth.
Beans’ snarling grew even louder as he stared at the man.
/> Before Swan knew what happened the man had reached up, wrapping a large hand around her arm, and grabbed her roughly off Peigi.
Beans immediately lunged forward and up, latching his teeth onto the man’s arm. Swan held tight to her tosg as the man pulled her off Peigi. It was in her hand when she hit the ground.
The man screamed out in pain and shook Beans off his arm, sending the hound crashing to the ground. Beans let out a yelp of pain and Swan quickly called him to her side.
She stood there, her legs braced apart as her skirts swirled around her legs. Swan faced the three of them, holding her tosg pointed in their direction. Her heart was beating furiously and she was trying to calm her breathing down.
Swan started singing, softly, under her breath.
* * *
“But I hope the time is near, when sweet peace her olive wand,
To lay the fiend of war shall soon stretch o'er every land.
When swords turn'd into ploughshares and pruning-hooks shall be,
An' the nations a' live happy in their ain countrie.”
* * *
“Stop that singing!” Murchadh yelled as he lunged at her.
Swan swung with all her might towards the man just as he drew his knife.
She sliced down onto his free arm and then whirled the staff to the other end without the blade and struck him as hard as she could on the head with the wooden staff. He fell to the ground, holding his arm, which was now bleeding from her tosg.
The other two men started forward. Swan whirled on them at the same time she placed the blade of the tosg at the neck of the man on the ground.
“Dinnae come any closer or he dies,” she said with her teeth gritted. “We just want to pass.” She pressed the blade against Murchdah’s neck. “Leave. Us. Alone.”
The two men stopped, looking at their bleeding companion on the ground.
Beans now had his two front feet on the man's chest and was snarling down into his face, his teeth snapping as he growled. His whole body vibrated with his ominous growls.
The man was terrified as he held his bleeding arm and looked from the furious redheaded woman above him to the dog snarling in his face.
“Do what she says!” he screeched to his companions.
The other two younger men spread their hands wide and stepped back.
Swan quickly nodded to Beak, Kaithria, and Neely to lead the horses and children past. She kept the blade of her tosg on the man’s neck until they were safely past and down the road. Beak kept turning to look back at her, as did the children.
“What’ll ye do now milady?” One of the men puffed his chest out as as he gave her what was an attempt at a sneer. “Ye are all by yerself. We could take ye easily. Not that the old man or the two other women and those children could help ye,” he said, attempting another sneer that was meant to be intimidating and threatening.
Swan turned her furious stare on the young man. Her blue eyes blazed at him. “I’ll do as I said I would. Yer friend will die. By my blade or the wolf’s teeth. Tis yer choice.” She raised her voice louder. “But know this. Behind us is my army. If ye harm me or my people ye will die by my warriors’ hands as easily as me own.”
The young man’s sneer disappeared as he looked at the road behind her. “We just wanted some food is all,” he said quietly to her, not knowing what to do. At his companion’s groan he glanced down at him.
“Leave her be,” Murchadh grumbled. “She aboot sliced me arm in two while she was singing! And now she wants to slice me head off!”
“I liked her singing,” the young man said to Murchadh. He turned to Swan with a blush pinking his cheeks and said, “Me mum sang that song to me. I just want to get home and see her.” He quickly looked down, hiding the tears that were filling his eyes.
Swan backed her tosg off Murchadh’s neck, slightly.
Murchadh groaned again and clutched his arm tighter. “He is right. We just wanted something to eat. It’s been days. Oh me arm!” He dramatically moaned and groaned again.
Swan frowned at the man on the ground. She patted her side and Beans instantly leapt over the man to sit beside her. “Och, tis just a scratch. Ye are acting like a child Murchadh of Mey!” she said to him.
“I am not acting like a child. It hurts!” he grumbled again loudly.
“Ye are so, Murchadh,” the other two young men agreed with Swan.
“I am not!” he said staunchly.
“Ye are. In fact ye are acting more like a vera wee baby,” Swan said with a short laugh.
Murchadh looked at her and said quietly, “It does hurt.”
One of the young men came closer, but at a warning look from Swan and a growl from the wolfhound, he backed up. “Tis the truth that he is weak and tired,” the man tried to explain, “so perhaps it ails him more than it should,” he said.
“We are all weak and tired,” the other young man added as he stared worriedly at his friend.
“We must get home, Murchadh. I dinnae want to die out here on the heath and bogs,” the first young man added. “We said we would help save yer sister. Ye said it would be an adventure. But it has not been. I want to go home!”
Swan realized upon closer inspection that this young man was actually very young. Young, thin, and gaunt.
“I’ll get ye home. I promised I would and I will.” Murchadh grimaced as he clutched his arm and tried to sit up. “I am sorry my friends, to have gotten ye into this.”
Swan backed up a step, taking the tosg totally off his neck, but keeping it pointed at him.
“Tis only because we are so starved and weak with hunger from our travels south that I dinnae kill ye,” he grumbled.
Swan made a scoffing sound. “Not before me wolf killed ye.”
Murchadh stared at the wolf with fear.
“Are ye headed back towards Mey then? You said you were Murchadh of Mey? Your friend said you went to help save yer sister?” Swan asked.
“Aye, we are headed back to Mey. We traveled to me sister’s village to the east. It was cleared by the King’s men. We went to help.”
“Oh, I see,” Swan said quietly as she lowered her tosg fully to the ground. “She is lucky to have had your help.”
“We were too late.” Murchadh stared at the ground. “At least to save me sister and her husband. The only good we were was to help bury the bodies of the dead.”
There was a long pause as the men shuffled their feet and stared at the ground. Murchadh pulled his hand away from his arm. There was indeed blood on his sleeve.
Swan gasped.
“I am vera sorry I hurt ye,” Swan said, speaking seriously.
“I am sorry we frightened ye and made demands. We are not thieves,” Murchadh said as the other two nodded. He quickly ripped a piece of his shirt and tied it around his arm. “Nor are we killers. We are just farmers.”
Swan nodded her head.
Murchadh’s companions came forward to help him up. They paused to look at Swan for permission to do so, before approaching.
Swan nodded and stepped back.
“Thank ye milady,” they said after they helped Murchadh to his feet.
Swan saw they were indeed all terribly thin. She couldn’t imagine what they had been through.
“Ye must take that peat bridge just behind me. Tis a safe bridge. Twill take ye towards Mey. But be aware, the bridges are in terrible shape. Many villages have been cleared north of here as well. The bridges were not meant for the traveling of so many horses and warriors. They rot on their own but with so many hooves, they are done in. Ye must take care.”
Murchadh looked at her blade and the loyal wolf beside her. “Ye offer a warning of safe travel to us? When we threatened to kill ye?”
“Aye, I do. I mean ye no harm, nor does me wolf unless ye harm me or mine.”
“Are ye safe yourself, Lady McKinnon of Brough?” Murchadh asked respectively.
Swan stared at him a moment, looking into his eyes as she clutched her tosg tightly.
“Aye. Do ye swear to continue on yer way then?”
“Aye,” he said. “I give ye me word that we will leave ye be.”
Swan relaxed her hand on her blade and turned towards her horse. Beans instantly followed her over to Peigi.
“I bid ye safe travel home, Murchadh of Mey,” Swan said as she mounted Peigi.
“And ye as well Lady McKinnon of Brough,” Murchadh said as the men turned and began to walk.
“Murchadh!” Swan called out to them as she untied something from her saddle.
They stopped and looked at her.
“Take this!” she said and threw them a rabbit Beans had caught that very morning.
The youngest man caught it and a huge smile broke out on his face. The other two stared in awe.
“Thank ye milady! Thank ye!” he said excitedly.
“Get home safe!” she called and pressed Peigi’s sides with her calves. The mare obediently picked up a trot with Beans trotting beside her.
6
Swan had only to go around a bend in the hill to come upon Beak, Kaithria, Neely, and the children. They were off their horses. They had been laying on the hill peering over the top, watching her.
She halted Peigi and stared at them.
“What are ye doing? Dinnae I tell ye to move on? Dinnae ye ken?” she said with a mock frown.
Grissy stood up. “Ye are a warrior Lady Swan, ye are! Ye were magnificent!” she said with a broad grin.
The other children all agreed and ran forward to her as she knelt down with pleasant surprise to accept their hugs.
The children hugged Beans too of course, who leapt around joyfully, barking and enjoying their praise and petting.
Swan looked over their heads where she knelt on the ground and met Beak’s eyes.
“I was gaunnie come get ye if I saw it go wrong,” he said with a croak and a brush of his finger across his nose. He held his club in his hand that he hit the little balls with.
Swan realized that he would have used his precious wooden club as a weapon for her. She watched as he swiped at his face again.
