Fire & Flesh

by Kerri Carr

  She was proud of the way her husband died. It was the first time she’d ever felt that. Graham had almost become a stigma but Perceval was right. He was the most loyal man there ever was. Although she was incredibly angry too. This Englishman was the reason he was dead and he’d been betrayed by some depraved mentalist at the camp. How was any of this fair? But how could she bare a grudge against someone as noble as him. The only person that had told her that her husband had died a heroic death. He’d traveled half the country to just relay his last wishes and thoughts. Who could hate such a man?

  Overwhelmed with emotions she didn’t know how to respond, tears broke out of her eyes. Perceval arms snaked around her and drew her into the warmth of his body. She snuggled against him feeling safe and comforted in a moment of shared grief.

  “Thank you,” Alice said through the sobs after she began untangling the knot of emotion that tied her mind. “It means a lot. You don’t know how much it means.”

  “It was the least I could do. Besides I was also kind of curious what kind of woman could inspire such greatness.” His thick lips curved into a sweet smile.

  “So, what are you going to doing?”

  “I don’t know. For so long this uniform was everything I was, and aspired to be but now it seems sullied with blood. I just want to go somewhere free of all the bloodshed. Somewhere I can be the man I want to be.”

  “I know what you mean. With the loss, and the ongoing butchery it does feel like Scotland is within its death throes. We are being driven from the highlands. I’ve heard a lot of folk talking about indentured service in the colonies. I’ve been considering myself as there is nothing here for me now. Your welcome to stay here until you’ve decided.”

  “None of us should stay here too long. The highlands are being torn apart. America sounds as good as place as any.”

  “Do you want to run away together?” she squealed half joking.

  “I think I’d move worlds if you asked me. What’s a continent or two?”

  She didn’t know where it came from but she found herself pressing her lips against his. The kiss lingered and grew more passionate until his hands were caressing and massaging her body, pulling at her clothes to reveal her pale, freckled torso. She couldn’t help thinking how like Graham he was. Was she just using him?

  Maybe Roland is right, she thought as she reached into his trousers and pried it free, maybe she was a fast worker.

  *****

  Alice and Perceval discussed their fantasy about starting over long into the night. Even disturbing the sleeping Roland who grumbled something about “keeping their damn fairy tales to a reasonable level.” The fairy tales slowly transformed into plans.

  “So, what are your plans?” Perceval snapped angrily at Roland for interrupting again. It was the first time she’d ever seen him angry.

  “At the moment, they don’t extend much past surviving. Although the fairy-tale sounds tempting. A new life free of everything. Do you think I could be free again English?” Roland was having one of his sullen turns again.

  “I don’t know…” Perceval shrugged.

  “I like the thought of staying and fighting for the clan’s survival.”

  “Now who’s being the fantasist?” Alice chimed in trying to lighten the mood.

  “With you around woman, I think all men.” He said, flipping back into his flattery routine again.

  Alice was glad to see Roland was feeling better, physically at least. Although unsteady on his feet he had least found them with minimal pain and had set about devouring everything that he could. She thought they’d have to get some food soon or he’d be devouring them.

  “See woman, I told you all I need was a little food.”

  “A little? That’d last an army for a month.” Alice found she loved teasing him mercilessly.

  “You have no idea how true that is,” he quipped back

  Alice sensed that an uneasy tension existed between Roland and Perceval. Even though the two never outright argued there was a tense silence between fraught with complex emotions. Roland was full of guilt every time the two interacted, and in Perceval she sensed a raw angry that he refused to acknowledge. She couldn’t help wondering if Roland was one of the people who’d tortured him. As hard as she tried to picture it, she couldn’t imagine the pretty and charming Roland torture anyone. He seemed too venerable. Despite the tension Alice loved having the two men close by. t almost felt like she belonged somewhere again.

  There was a slight tension between her and Perceval, too, from the previous night. Neither of them really discussed what had happened or if it meant anything deeper than it was. They only time they really touched was when a fresh peal of musket fire would ripple through the air. There was an intense silence right after the gun fire. Everyone was scared. Alice would find herself holding both Perceval’s and Roland’s hand, all of them drawing close and holding their breath as they expected the door to open and an army to charge in.

  Perceval would always go out and have a scout about ten minutes after the barrage leaving Roland and her alone. It seemed like when he was alone all his bravado faded and she saw the vulnerability he tried so hard to disguise with his bad jokes and flirtations.

  “Don’t fret girl,” Roland said during one occurrence.

  “It sounds closer.” Alice was on the verge of tears. “They’re coming.”

  “It’s just the way they echo throughout these glens. It’s nothing to worry about.” He stroked the wavy tendrils of her red hair. Their eyes locked and he pressed his coarse beard into her face as he kissed her. The village girl in her melted, her long standing fantasy coming true and embraced the kissed, but there was a large part that loathed him. Without him Graham would never have gone to war. And then there was the whole Perceval thing. She pushed him away but it was too late. Perceval stood in the door watching their embrace with none of his usual embarrassment.

  He just entered without a word and the tense silence returned. Why didn’t he say anything? What had last night meant to him? Had she disappointment him? If she explained would it make any better?

  “They’re getting closer. We should leave and soon. How are you feeling Scotsman?” Perceval broke the silence.

  “Strong as an ox. Don’t worry about me. You still going with the fairy tale?”

  “At the moment.” Perceval eyes flicked over to her. “We have until Inverness to decide. It’s the logical place to head no matter the plan.”

  “Then we need a change of clothes. A blood-stained Scotsman, an English deserter and an illustrious beauty walk into Inverness. It sounds like the start to a tragic joke,” Roland said.

  “Some of Graham’s clothes are still in that chest over there. Some are a bit worn and old but they’d stand out less than your uniform.” She still had a favorite shirt in the trunk that she would take out and hug when she’d have a particularly grueling incident in town.

  Perceval opened the chest and rummaged through the contents.

  “Is there anything that isn’t tartan?”

  “Welcome to the clan.” Roland laughed.

  *****

  As Alice was packing enough water and supplies for the trip, Perceval emerged from behind the screen tugging at the kilt and knee-high socks.

  “By Gods lad, I think you would look more comfortable in a dress. Got anything in his size?” Roland laughed, and Perceval’s discomfort grew.

  “Leave him alone, I think his legs look rather dashing.” Alice tried to ease his discomfort but made it worse.

  “I can’t believe there wasn’t one pair of breeches.” Perceval readjusted his kilt again.

  A knock at the door stopped the revelry dead. It was closer to night than it was evening. Who’d be knocking this late let alone at all. She was the town scapegoat. This wasn’t going to be good.

  “Open it,” Roland mouthed grabbing his weapons off the bed and squeezing behind the screen with Perceval, who readjusted it to block them from the doors view.


  Alice’s heart was thumping in chest as she stepped toward to the door. Her hand closed around the nob and froze in fear. It was times like this she wished she had another way out. There was no way she could crawl out through those tiny little windows. Another knock resounded throughout the cabin and with a deep breath she opens the door. Two English soldiers stood in the door way, and she could see more flashes of red moving beyond them.

  “We are conducting a search of these premise.” He barged past Alice and entered the room before she even had time to think.

  “Husband?” the officer snapped.

  “Dead. I’m a widow, sir.” Alice tried to be as meek as possible.

  “Yes. I know what a widow is. Live on your own in this hovel?” His eyes scanned the room sizing up every inch of it. Alice wasn’t sure she liked where this conversation was headed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What is this?” Pointing it the English uniform draped over the screen.

  “I was entertaining a fellow a few days. He went to town and never came back sir. Left his stuff here.” She nodded to the musket rifle propped up near the door.

  “Do you know aiding a deserter and having a weapon is an offense?” Despite his tone and threat, Alice didn’t sense any hatred in his voice. More indifference.

  “I didn’t know he was a deserter, sir. And you’re welcome to the weapon. Please take it, I have no use for it and the ugly thing is cluttering up the place.”

  “Ignorance is not an excuse. And it’s his majesty’s property. I don’t need your permission.” He snapped his fingers at his assistant who collected the uniform and rifle.

  “My men are in need of entertainment.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “It’s not a request. Carter send in Gallaway.” The assistant duck out of the door and brought in a young soldier. “This young man will keep you company until we come back later. Make sure he leaves refreshed.”

  The officer marched out into the night.

  “Sorry for the intrusion ma’am. So, um, shall we get to it?” He asked walking to the bed. Roland jumped out from behind the screen and smacked him over the head with the butt of his pistol. The soldier grunt flopped down on the bed, knocked out cold.

  “I think it’s past time we left.” Precaval grabbed a bag of supplies.

  Roland rushed to the door without saying a word and flung it open. The rough looking guard standing guard outside sprung back in surprise. Roland leveled his pistol and shot the guard in the head before he could react. The shot echoed throughout the glen drawing the soldier’s attention back toward the cabin. Roland darted out into the night at break-neck speed.

  “Quick, we’ve got to follow him.” Perceval grabbed Alice’s hand and dragged her out after Roland. “Snakes always know the best rabbit warrens to hide in.”

  A round of musket fire exploded into the ground around them sending tufts of ground sailing through the air. Shouts and footsteps followed.

  “Just run, don’t look back.” Perceval chased after the distant Roland, his outline slowly began fading into the night as he sped down the side of the valley and splashed into the brook below. Roland shape slowly become more labored, stiff and slower as he hunched over clasping his wound. Perceval and Alice gained on him quickly.

  “We’re almost there.” He gasped in pain as they caught up to him.

  “Which way?” Perceval asked taking Roland’s arm and wrapping it around himself.

  “That way, at the end of the brook. There’s a tiny cave with its entrance hidden behind a tree and a bush.” The sound of the English soldiers splashing through the brook propelled them forward towards the cave.

  The entrance to the cave was practically invisible. Perceval had almost missed when he was looking for it. Roland slide sideways down the narrow, followed by Alice. Perceval looked back for pursuers and hoped he’d been fast enough not to be seen as he disappeared into the cave.

  *****

  The cave was shrouded in darkness. Alice could just barely make out the faces of Roland and Perceval. Her hands groped along the slimy hard rock surface of the cave as entered, trying to guide her passage through the darkness. She didn’t like existing in this darkness, anything could be hiding or living in here and she’d never spot it in the darkness. For some reason, the cave was unnaturally cold too, she could imagine a frost demon sleeping within.

  A hand closed on her shoulder and she jumped imagining the worst.

  “I think that’s far enough,” Roland whispered. “Be hard to find our way out without light.”

  All three sat facing the exit in total silence. Listening for the slightest sound or scuffle that signaled they had been discovered. Alice’s hands found Perceval’s and Roland’s in the dark, as she tried to draw strength from them.

  Time seemed meaningless in the cave but for what seemed like hours she could hear the soldiers outside the cave bark indistinguishable orders. With each order, she heard she thought that was it. That they had found them and tensed. It was during one of these moments Roland broke down.

  “I’m so sorry.” His whispered apology was wrecked with sobbing. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m such a coward. I always run.”

  “It’s fine, don’t fret.” Alice squeezed his hand. “They’ll never find this.”

  “But you don’t understand. It’s my fault. My father was right. I’m such a coward. I did it as I was a coward. It was me, I’m to blame. It was me that…” he raved madly.

  “No one blames you,” Perceval reassured him.

  “Really? You mean that?” He was almost begging.

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks.” Roland grew calmer and the cave was ushered into silence again.

  After what seemed an age, it grew quiet outside. The press of fear and the excitement of the day hit Alice all at once and she felt tired. Her head was slowly slumping forehead, her eyes closing against her will. She nestled against the cold hard floor of the cave. Perceval joined her on the floor, placing his arm under her head so she had a pillow to rest her head on. Behind her she felt Roland snuggle up to her, his arms wrapping around her body.

  Perceval’s face was so close she could make out the lines of his cheeks even in the darkness. She reached out and stroked his cheeks. His big, soft hand caressed her cheeks, and traced around her lips. Roland brushed her hair to the side and pressed his rough tickling beard against her bare nape as he kissed it softly. Perceval pressed forward and his lips met hers in the darkness. Alice loved the sensation of Roland kissing and massaging her back. The fact he was doing it as her tongue probed Perceval’s mouth made it even more special somehow. She knew she should stop it, that they may not even realize they were kissing and groping her at the same in this darkness. She reveled in the feel of being accepted completely by these two men and let it go on too long. Roland’s hands clasped around her breast just as Perceval’s hand stroked up her flat stomach to it. They’d found other hands in the darkness.

  The men paused and broke away from her body. Alice could feel them trying to penetrate the darkness to stare at each other. What had she done? Had her weakness ruined everything? Was the fragile tension between the two of them finally going to break and a fight erupt? She rolled to her back and felt like crying.

  To her surprise felt Roland hover over her, his mouth closing on hers as Perceval began kissing her neck. She basked in their warm tender caresses wondering what was going on. As they inched the top of her dress down kissing down her body she felt the passion in their kisses, and the way they caressed her body. They were fighting over her but in the most untraditional and pleasurable of ways. Either one’s kisses, or moans of pleasure would spur the other one on to new and more magical ways of exploring her body. Roland, rough needy and fast, while Perceval was so soft gentle and attentive. Together they kindled a heat in her body she’d never felt before.

  She found her hands exploring each of their bodies, caressing and groping at their chests. Tickling and teasi
ng their way up their hairy legs and slipping under their kilts. That was the best thing about kilts. She though as her hands clasped around their engorged members. You didn’t need both hands to undo a tricky clasp or buttons.

  ***

  A chorus of chirruping birds filtered into the cave dragging Alice from her slumber. She awoke to find herself nestle between the naked bodies of Roland and Perceval. A beam of golden sun-light entered the cave from the entrance giving their silhouettes a golden hue in the darkness. She still couldn’t believe that last night had really happened. The tingling afterglow pulsing through her body was a pleasant reminder that it had.

  She stood and pulled her simple wool dress over her body and crept to the mouth of the cave peering out into the glen beyond. It was empty and silent. Their pursuers had either moved to search new areas or given up.

  “Is it safe?” Roland asked his eyes transfixed on Perceval’s back with a tinge of regret.

  “Seems quiet out there.”

  “We should rest a little more,” Perceval chimed in without opening his eyes.

  “I think you’ve worn him out,” Roland joked as he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

  By the time they’d left the cave it was mid-day. They skirted the open terrain of the highlands, hugging the rocky crops or forests as there was less chance of being seen by the English Army. Once or twice Roland stopped the advance and turned back to avoid an encampment or a patrol. By time early evening had arrived Alice felt exhausted, her feet throbbed and she seriously began to doubt that they’d ever reach Inverness.