by Barbara Bard
Lord Torstein smirked. “Then I shall take it upon myself to dispatch of him. This man has tarnished the reputation of what it means to be a nobleman. He is an animal, and animals such as him should be disposed of accordingly.”
They rode for a half a day through the forest before eventually arriving on the outskirts of the farm that Riley, Isla, Finlay, and their group consistent just shy of 30 riders were holed up in.
“Come,” Lord Torstein said, leading the charge. “Something tells me that this Highlander farmer may hold some secrets for us to uncover…”
***
Twenty minutes before Lord Torstein arrived at the farm, the farmer, a man by the name of James, showed Isla and Riley around the grounds while the riders remained huddled in the barn resting adjacent to the house that currently held the horses.
“Yer Lord,” the farmer said, “the one that ye speak of rode through here nae long ago.”
“How long ago?” Finlay inquired.
“Several hours,” the farmer said. “I saw him and a small group of men fleeing from the forest. I was worried that they would approach me but they did nae.”
“Did any of them look wounded?” Isla inquired. “The Lord himself has a nasty cut in his abdomen.”
“How did he receive it?”
“From me,” Isla said proudly.
The farmer showcased a smile. “He was double over, from the looks of him. So, aye, he appeared wounded.”
“How many men were riding with him?”
The farmer thought it over. “Less than 20, I would say. They all appeared tae be quite fatigued.”
“We slaughtered a good number of them,” Riley added. “As well they should hae been.”
The farmer, arriving at the back door, pointed off to the right.
“I believe he has gone that way. A Sassenach stronghold rests there. I hae nae encountered a problem with them.”
“Why is that?” Finlay inquired.
A shrug from the farmer. “I provide them with food rations as they gae aboot setting up their outpost. It is still in the process of being built.”
Riley began enthusiastic and the sound of the news. “Ye hae been there?”
“Aye, recently.”
“How much dae ye recall aboot what it looks like?”
“Mair than a fair amount. Come. I will show ye.”
The farmer set about arranging a few utensils, a rag, and a pair of stones that he fetched outside to offer them an illustration of the outpost.
“This,” he said, “is what it looks like.”
He placed a stone down in front of and to the left of Riley, Isla, and Finlay.
“This is their main quarters. All of the knights are housed here.”
He placed down another stone a few inches adjacent to the first. “This is the armory.”
He laid out the rag next to the second stone. “These are the dining quarters.”
He then placed the utensils all around the edges of his layout, with an open area resting in front of rags and stones and said: “and this is where they train.”
He pointed at the utensils. “This area is a wooden fence about twenty feet high that surrounds the entirety of the outpost. But there are a few weaknesses that they have yet tae tend tae in the overall structure.”
Riley rubbed his chin. “Can ye point out where these weaknesses are?”
“Aye,” the farmer said. “Right here—”
Everyone ceased speaking as the sounds of hoof beats became audible in the distance. “What is that?” Riley inquired.
The farmer’s eyes went wide. “Quickly! Ye must hide!”
“Where?”
The farmer pointed to the floor. “Come with me.”
***
Lord Torstein rode up to the front of the farm with two of his knights and ordered the others to remain back about a hundred yards. The farmer, having quickly stowed away Isla, Finlay, Riley, and the riders in his hiding spot, worried that the only thing that would give away what was going one would be the collection of horses he had stored in the barn.
Lord Torstein dismounted his horse as the farmer stepped outside, bowing to the lord and forcing a jovial expression.
“Me lord,” he said. “A pleasure tae hae ye.”
Lord Torstein removed his riding gloves. “What is yer name, my good man?”
“James MacGuire,” the farmer said. “I provide the food for Sir Richard of Reighton’s men at the outpost nae fae from here.”
Lord Torstein recognized the name. “Ah, yes. James MacGuire. I have received word about the work you have done for the kingdom. My king commends you for finding loyalty with the English.”
The farmer wanted to scoff. He had no loyalty to the Sassenach—they had forced him to do their bidding, to give over his food and lands to them under nothing more than the threat of death. He worked to stay alive, not because he held loyalty to the Sassenach. Nonetheless, “I am grateful, my lord,” was what he replied before giving another bow.
“Tell me, James MacGuire,” Lord Torstein said. “Have you seen anyone riding through these parts as of late?”
The farmer nodded. “Aye, another English lord. He raced through here in quite a hurry.”
Lord Torstein looked around the farm. “He is not still here, is he?”
The farmer shook his head. “Naw, me lord.”
Lord Torstein was skeptical. “So,” he said, “if I had my men search the grounds, we would find nothing?”
“Naw, me lord.” The farmer then motioned inside. “But if it pleases ye, I encourage ye tae do so.”
Finlay, Riley, and Isla, hiding underneath the floorboards, held their breaths and awaited the worst.
Outside, Lord Torstein contemplated for a long moment if he would enter the residence and do a thorough search, but between the farmer’s smile and his compliance, he believed that no one was holing up on these grounds expect the old man himself.
Lord Torstein shook his head. “I will leave you to be,” he said, placing back on his riding gloves. “But if you hear anything at all or see anything at all, I trust that you will send word over to Sir Richard of Reighton.”
A nod. “Aye, me lord.”
Lord Torstein, ever trusting and ever merciful, bid his goodbyes, mounted his horse, and led his men in the direction of Sir Richard’s outpost.
Waiting until they were clearly gone, the farmer beckoned Isla, Riley, and Finlay out of their hiding place where everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Quite the twists and turns we are taking, naw?” Riley said.
“What dae ye plan on doing now?” the farmer asked. “Perhaps ye should all turn back noo that this Sassenach lord has arrived.”
Isla, already ready to follow after Lord Torstein, replied: “Naw. There is naw turning back—the time has come tae make our stand.”
Chapter 30
Night had fallen by the time Riley, Isla, Finlay, and their riders arrived at the base of a hill that stretched up half a mile to a towering outpost surrounded by a wooden fence. Fires burned bright inside of the grounds, the hustled tones and laughter of Sassenach knights faintly audible from the distance that they sat.
Riley, Isla, and Finlay hid in a forested area where their riders waited, concealed by the night and keeping their voices down as Riley, Isla, and Finlay whispered to one another with a close eye held on the outpost.
“So,” Riley said. “What did ye hae in mind?”
“We need tae get a better look inside the grounds,” Finlay said.
“The outpost is situated on the ridge. There is nae higher ground we can get tae that will provide us with a clear view of the numbers that the outpost is sporting.”
“All good and well,” Riley said, “so then how dae we gae aboot accomplishing that?”
The trio thought of what to do next as Isla began counting the number of women riders in their group—one, two, three, four, five, and six.
Finlay could see the contemplative look in h
er eyes and said: “What are ye thinking?”
“Of a plan we should execute at dawn,” Isla said, turning to Riley and Finlay. “And it goes something like this…”
***
Lord Torstein conversed with Sir Richard of Reighton inside of Sir Richard’s quarters, a small unit segregated from the rest of the knights in the main housing quarters. Sir Richard was a big man, sporting a large mark down his cheek and weathered skin from years of battle.
“Lord Torstein,” he said, bowing to the lord. “It appears that we are filled to the brim with our share of royalty this evening.”
“Yes,” Lord Torstein said. “It appears so. I believe that you have a man by the name of Lord Henry of Sanford staying with you.”
A nod. “Yes, my lord. He arrived with a small legion of his men about six hours ago. They were ambushed by Highlanders about twenty miles east of here. Earl Simon of Sanford was among the dead. Lord Henry is very distraught at the moment.
Lord Torstein sighed. “Is he now?”
“Indeed. He is staying in the armory right now. Would you care to speak to him? He is quite weary, but I am sure he would be more than happy to receive your company.”
“Oh, yes,” Lord Torstein said. “I would very much like to talk to him indeed.”
Sir Richard escorted Lord Torstein next door to the armory, Lord Torstein ordering only one of his knights to stay with him as he entered what were now Lord Henry’s quarters. Seated on the edge of his cot and forcing a weary and innocent expression was Lord Henry, outstretching his arms to greet Lord Torstein who he had not seen in quite some time.
“Lord Torstein!” Lord Henry greeted. “A sight for sore eyes, you are! Come! Please!”
The two embraced, Lord Torstein forcing his smile and overall positive attitude as he told Lord Henry to sit back down before greeting Lord Henry’s man Stephen.
“A most loyal servant he has been,” Lord Henry said. “I could not ask for a better man to be in my employ.”
Lord Torstein pointed to the bottle of whiskey on the edge of a table. “May I?”
“Please!” Lord Henry said enthusiastically. “Have as much as you like!”
Lord Torstein took the bottle and poured himself two fingers worth in a mug resting adjacent to the bottle.
“Sir Richard,” he said, “informed me that you were ambushed by a group of Highlanders.”
Lord Henry hung his head. “Indeed,” he said. “A tragedy it was. We never saw it coming.”
A nod from Lord Torstein as he pouted his lip. “I was also informed,” he said, “that your father, Earl Simon of Sanford, was among the ranks of the dead.”
Lord Henry hung his head more, trying his best to force tears and act as if he was heartbroken.
“Yes,” he said, his poor acting hurting Lord Torstein’s ears. “I am saddened to say that this is the truth.”
Lord Torstein took a pull of his drink. “How did this happen?” he said. “And please know that you have my sympathies.”
“Thank you, my good Lord Torstein. And it is very hard to piece together what happened. The Highlanders attacked us in full force without a moment’s noticed. I was wounded and was pulled away by my men before all of us could be destroyed.”
He pounded his fist on his cot. “I will have my vengeance,” he promised. “I will avenge my father.”
“You do not know how many of them there were? How many savages attacked you?”
Lord Henry shook his head. “No. I do not. Again, we were overwhelmed. I was wounded before I had a chance to rally my men.”
“I bet the Earl fought hardest of them all.”
“That he did.”
“And how did he die?”
Lord Henry squinted as he tried to conjure up his lie, Lord Torstein spotting the weakness in Lord Henry and awaiting the falsified answer.
“I cannot say,” Lord Henry stated. “Again, it was hard to discern what was playing out on the battlefield.”
Lord Torstein sipped his liquor. “It sounds to me like you did not see much of anything, Lord Henry.”
A laugh. “You’ll forgive me if the hectic nature of the situation prohibited me from doing so.”
Lord Torstein nodded and took his time before bringing forth the questions that were so desperately lingering on the tip of his tongue.
“I must ask you,” he said, taking his time. “Why is it that the story I have been told by one of your very own knights differs from your account?”
Lord Henry gritted his teeth. “Whatever do you mean?”
Lord Torstein pulled up a chair and sat in front of Lord Henry.
“A knight of yours deserted his post without your knowledge, Lord Henry. Two days ago, he arrived at my castle and told me of a very chilling narrative that reflects poorly upon your, how should I put it, lack of leadership.”
Lord Henry’s face went from forcefully pleasant to slack and defensive. “What are you speaking of, Lord Torstein?”
“I speak of tales that involve you slaughtering your own men and killing your own father for sake of protecting this ill-advised campaign to wed a Highlander lady. I speak of the lies that have been told to me here this evening that seethe from your mouth like bile.”
Lord Henry smiled nervously and laughed, trying his best to fabricate more false narratives to reinforce his position as the victim.
“Lord Torstein…I do not know what you have been told—”
“Spare me,” Lord Torstein interjected. “You sit here and speak to me like I am some commoner fool with no knowledge of the ill reputation that your sport. Lord Henry, your acts and lack of respect for authority have spread through the land like a plague. One of your own men, your own knight, broke his oath upon threat of death to inform me that you are leading your men down a road that will only end in death and destruction.”
“Lies!” Lord Henry screamed. “What you have been told is not the truth. I tell you all that I know. I tell you that the Highlanders are responsible for this.”
Lord Torstein placed down his mug.
“And I tell you,” he said, “that your treacherous rule has come to an end, Lord Henry. You have lied, conned, manipulated, and killed your way across the Highlands for nothing more than the satisfaction of your own selfish desires.”
Lord Henry, ever defiant, sat back comfortably in his chair.
“It is the world of my disgraceful knight against my own. I will see to it that this man is properly punished for the transgressions that have been committed.”
“Yes, the proper justice will be bestowed upon those responsible.” He leaned in. “But you are the one that will answer for them. I never liked you, Lord Henry. No one has. You are nothing but a spoiled child whose endless fits of temper and vengeful tactics have finally caught up with him.”
“I will not stand for this insolence.”
“Nor will I, which is why I have sent word to the king and informed Sir Richard before my coming here that you will answer for your treason with the swift and unforgiving justice of the king.” He turned his head to the door. “Sir Richard! Please, will you join us?”
Sir Richard entered the room with four of his knights, all of them standing tall and proud with their palms resting on their weapons and ready to unsheathe them at a moment’s notice.
“What is this?” Lord Henry said.
“This,” Lord Torstein said, “is you being taken to your quarters and confined until the king sends word about what will be done with you. You will relinquish your weapons and your men will be locked up until this matter is sorted.”
He turned his attention to Stephen. “And you,” he said, “will be locked away with them as well. I assume that you are Lord Henry’s right hand man, are you not?”
Stephen said nothing as he stood tall with a defiant expression on his face.
“Indeed, you are,” Lord Torstein said. “Well, being that you are the individual responsible for keeping your lord’s fool heartedness in play, I doubt that anything
will remain for you at the end of this except for your own execution.”
He gestured to Sir Richard. “Sir Richard,” he said. “I leave these men to your charge. Lock them up and make sure that you kill anyone who attempts to fight you on the matter.”
A nod from Sir Richard. “As you please, my lord.” He stepped forward, puffing his chest out and standing tall in front of Lord Henry. “Lord Henry,” he said, “I am taking you into custody on behalf of the King of England.”
