by Barbara Bard
“What word should I send in reply?” the squire inquired.
Lord Torstein thought on it for several moments before saying: “Tell him this,” as the squire grabbed a quill, ink, parchment and began writing down Lord Torstein’s words.
“My king,” Lord Torstein dictated. “It is with a heavy heart that I hear of Frederick’s betrayal. I do not know what stories he tells you, but I assure you that the narrative of the Highlander savages is one of fiction. While I do wish to sort this matter out, I believe it not to be in our best interests to track them down and bring forth more bloodshed. We have lost too many men in this fight, and I do not wish to lose any more. I hope you will see fit to discipline Frederick accordingly for his lies and request that he is returned to my home for proper reprimanding. Yours sincerely, Lord Torstein.”
“Is that all, my lord?” the squire said.
“Yes,” Lord Torstein replied. “Send it to the king post haste.” He looked out his window longingly. “No more blood will be shed on my account—none. Let the king dwell on that all he wants.”
The squire then proceeded to forward the message to the king, and once the king had received Lord Torstein’s words less than a week later, he was not thrilled in the slightest.
***
Lord Torstein’s squire would hustle into Lord Torstein’s chambers three weeks after sending word to the king about his refusal to do his bidding, haste in his tone and a panting quality in his breathing.
“Slow yourself,” Lord Torstein said, pumping the air with his hands. “What seems to be the problem?”
“My lord,” the squire said. “I must speak with you.”
“What is it?”
“A legion has just been dispatched to the castle.”
Lord Torstein stood up quickly. “A legion?”
“Yes, my lord. Over one thousand of them. They are outside the castle grounds as we speak.”
“Show me,” Lord Torstein said as they hustled out of his quarters and arrived at the lookout point on top of the castle. Dozens of Lord Torstein’s knights looked out at a sea of men adorned in gold and blue uniforms bearing the proud insignia of the king.
Lord Torstein took a moment to estimate the men down below, all of them standing in formation as a single rider dressed in white marched to the front of the formation.
“I seek,” the voice hollered out from down below, “to speak with Lord Torstein.”
A nod. “I am Lord Torstein. Who are you?”
“My name is Sir Jessup, commander of the king’s army. I wish to take council with you, my good sir.”
Lord Torstein shook his head, his squire wringing his fingers and sporting a nervous complexion.
“This does not bode well, my lord,” the squire said. “The overwhelming force on display concerns me.”
Lord Torstein pat the man reassuringly on his arm.
“Tell the men to keep a close eye on these knights down below. See this Sir Jessup into my quarters. Allow no one but himself and his guard to accompany him.”
“Yes, my lord,” the squire said before making the arrangements.
Minutes later, Lord Torstein was back inside his quarters, waiting with a mug of wine and two of his closest knights standing guard as a single knock came on the door outside.
“Come in,” Lord Torstein said coolly.
The doors opened and a gaunt and pale man entered. His hair was flaxen, his movements smooth and aquiline and almost inhuman. His eyes were charcoal black, and his pale face smooth and without lines of stress being that he had never showcased any kind of emotion in his life.
The knight appeared to be more animal than man, with a placid look on his face and a black pair of eyes that looked like they had seen more death than anyone who knew him would care to admit.
“My lord,” Sir Jessup said with a nod. “My name is Sir Jessup.”
“And how can I help you today, Sir Jessup?” Lord Torstein inquired.
“I bring word from the king.”
“And what word do you bring from the king?”
Sir Jessup gestured to the wine. Lord Torstein obliged him by filling a mug and handing it over. Sir Jessup sipped the wine, winced, and placed the mug aside.
“We have much better wine back in England,” he stated with disapproval. “It seems as if you have grown too accustomed to the ways of the savages that dwell in these Highlands.”
Lord Torstein made nothing of the comment and turned away, his gaze toward the window looking out at the Highlands.
“You said you bring word from the king.”
A nod, “I do.”
“And what words does the king send.”
“Those that you might not be pleased to hear…”
Lord Torstein turned and faced Sir Jessup with his hands folded behind his back. “Go on.”
Sir Jessup took a step forward. “The king received word of your…reluctance to pursue the Highlanders responsible for the deaths of Lord Henry and Sir Richard, as well as the burning of the outpost. He has deemed it necessary that I…assist you in bringing them to justice.”
“Does he now?”
“He does indeed. He was quite…upset at your refusal to do his bidding.”
“It was not a refusal. I simply stated that I do not see fit to pursue a rumor.”
“Regardless, it is the king’s will that they be brought to justice and brought to justice they will be.”
Lord Torstein paced, not liking at all the words that were being given to him.
“So, the king,” he said, “sends an army to seek out a pair of rogue highlanders.”
A shrug from Sir Jessup. “These savages have proven themselves to be worthy opponents, and a such the king has responded in kind. I will be leading his army throughout these lands as you and I work together to figure out those responsible for the crimes.”
Lord Torstein felt his stomach turning in knots, fearful that his alliance with Isla and Finlay and their clan would be exposed.
“You and I,” he said, pointing to himself and then Sir Jessup. “You and I will work together?”
A nod. “It is a direct order from the king. Consider me your…partner for the duration of this campaign.”
Lord Torstein puffed his chest. “Well, as lord of these lands, I must officially state my disdain for this plan.”
“Despise it as much as you wish—it is how it will be. This is a direct order from the king.” He then took a step forward, a lecherous glint in his eye. “And do understand,” he said quietly, practically whispering it into Lord Torstein’s ear, “that if you refuse to take my orders, if you see to go against the word of the king…I have also been ordered to hold you responsible as well, Lord Torstein.”
Lord Torstein squinted, “Is that a threat, Sir Jessup?”
Sir Jessup let out a laugh. “Why, I thought that was more than obvious, Lord Torstein!”
Lord Torstein wanted to strike Sir Jessup. He knew of the man now that he was staring at him face-to-face. Sir Jessup’s ruthlessness was far worse than that of someone like Lord Henry.
The only difference between the two was that Sir Jessup sported the tact and mind that Lord Henry had lacked. He was a formidable opponent, and Lord Torstein knew that Sir Jessup would slit his throat if the king had told him to.
“Do you understand?” Sir Jessup said. “Do you grasp what I am saying, Lord Torstein? I do not have to nor will I be pleasant. I am here because the king is very, very unhappy with you. I am not your friend—I am your big brother.”
Lord Torstein took his time. He knew he couldn’t protest this man, not at this time—it would mean his death and most likely that of Isla and Finlay and their clan as well. Instead, he held his chin high, nodded dutifully, and replied: “I do, Sir Jessup.”
Sir Jessup patted Lord Torstein on the back. “Then all is settled! I’d like my men to be seen inside the grounds. They will need food and a place to rest. I will also require my own chambers. Please see to it that I am accommodated
.” He turned to the door, Lord Torstein practically seething.
“As you wish,” Lord Torstein said with the subtlest of nods.
“Oh,” Sir Jessup added as he turned back. “I just want to say how pleased I am that we will be working together.” He then smiled sardonically, leaving and flapping the tail of his cape behind him as he exited down the hall with his two guards in tow.
Lord Torstein, well past the point of dismayed, turned to his messenger and shook his head.
The two of them had the suspicion that the worst elements of Sir Jessup’s personality had yet to reveal themselves
Chapter 41
Isla was smiling. She just knew it to be true. She knew, deep down in her bones, that hers and Finlay’s lives were about to change forever. “Gavina!” she called out from her quarters, half-built and in the third month of being constructed.
Gavina, sprouting more and more as the day’s passed, entered the quarters and said: “Aye, sister. What is it?”
Isla nodded for her to come to her side. “I wish tae tell ye something.”
Gavina sat alongside Isla, eager and waiting for whatever she was going to tell her. “Are ye going tae leave me in suspense?” she said.
Isla was beaming, glowing brighter than she ever had in her life. “Something has happened,” she said, “and I want ye tae be the first tae ken.”
Gavina took up Isla’s hands and waited. “What is it?”
Isla took her time to answer before saying: “I am with child, me sister. I hae been for quite a while now.”
Gavina, happier than she ever had been, threw her arms around her sister’s neck and began to cry tears of joy. “Oh, sister!” she exclaimed. “This is such wonderful news!”
“Aye, wonderful news indeed!”
“Does Finlay ken?”
Isla shook her head. “Naw, not yet. I wanted tae be certain before I told him.”
“And ye are certain ye are expecting?”
A nod. “I conversed with one of the women in the clan who has been with child before. All signs are pointing tae me being so.”
“Such joyous news! Does it feel like a boy or a girl?”
Isla laughed. “There is naw way tae tell that just yet.”
“Oh, it will nae matter. I am an aunt! I am so thrilled tae teach it all the ways of life!”
“A wonderful mentor ye will be, me dear sister. But please, we must keep this news quiet until I am prepared tae tell the others.”
“Of course! But what of Finlay?”
“Oh, he struggles so much with establishing the village. I dinnae want tae burden him just yet.”
“This is nae a burden, me dear sister! This is joyous news. Ye should tell him soon!”
“I will, me sister. I will give it one mair day.”
“Give what one mair day?” the voice of Finlay said from inside the doorway.
Isla and Gavina composed themselves, smoothing out the wrinkles in their garb as they both stood up.
“None of yer business, Finlay Baird,” Gavina said playfully. “This is talk meant fer sister and nothing mair!”
Finlay bowed his head. “As ye wish.”
Isla whispered in Gavina’s ear: “We shall discuss this mair later. Aye?”
Gavina kissed Isla on the cheek. “Aye, me sister. Much tae discuss we do!”
Gavina then left the quarters as Finlay approached Isla. “How are the preparations progressing?” Isla inquired.
“Good,” Finlay said. “We hae run into a problem with some the arrangements, but they will be sorted out in due time.”
“Wonderful,” Isla said as she kissed his cheek, unable to help herself from smiling with pride.
“What is it?” Finlay said, picking up on Isla’s cheerful demeanor. “Something is on yer mind.”
Isla nodded. “Aye,” she said. “But ask me again in the morra and I shall tell ye.”
Finlay kissed her cheek. “Fair enough, me love.”
Seconds later, one of the men in the clan arrived in their quarters in a hurry.
“Finlay,” he said. “Lord Torstein has just sent word through his message bird. Come! Quickly!”
Finlay followed after the man and was handed a roll of parchment that had been folded repeatedly. “When did this arrive?” he inquired.
“But a short time ago,” the man said, trying to keep his tone low. “Read it. Quickly. It is dire news.”
Finlay unrolled the parchment and began to read it out loud, quiet enough that only he and the man could hear: “Finlay,” he said. “I send word tae ye of the upmost importance. My king has heard of the events that have transpired in your homeland and is mounting an army that will shortly be coming yer way. I will arrive in Scotland a month from sending this message, and I wish to meet with ye tae discuss what actions must be taken.”
Finlay held the parchment in his hands as a dismayed looked stretched across his face. “My God,” he said. “The Sassenach return tae destroy us all.”
“Should we tell Isla?” the man inquired.
Finlay nodded and wasted no time, returning to his and Isla’s quarters to break her the bad news. “What is it?” she asked.
Finlay read Isla the message and then asked for the man who escorted him to leave and keep the news quiet. Isla sat for a long moment, shaking her head and feeling that the peace that her people had just found was now once again threatened.
“How?” she said. “How is this possible?”
“It does nae matter,” Finlay said. “We must meet with Lord Torstein and arrange plans.”
“I will nae allow me people tae be threatened again. I will nae allow for these events tae transpire.”
“Nor will I, me love. We will end this before it even starts.”
Isla took Finlay’s hand. “It is nae just about us now, me love. We must strive tae preserve our new way of life…” she took his hand and rested it on her belly. “And that of our bairn.”
Finlay smiled proudly, a mixture of fear and elation overcoming him all at once. “Are ye certain?” he asked.
Isla nodded. “I was prepared tae wait tae tell ye. But I think now is a most appropriate time.”
Finlay held her close. “We will survive,” he promised. “We will live tae see our bairn live a free and happy life.”
They held each other tight, as if all life depended on it. “I ken, me love,” Isla said. “I ken.”
Epilogue
“All is well,” Isla cooed the child in her arms as it fussed and fidgeted. “Rest now. I am here…”
Ahead of Isla, lying past the cottages and other domiciles in the village was the rising sun of the East, casting a golden, crisp glow throughout the valley. It had been untouched by nothing but the fellowship and camaraderie of the Highlanders that dwelled there. A morning mist came from the ocean about four miles away to the left of Isla, and the slow churning of the tides faintly audible in the distance put her at ease as it did most mornings.
She smiled fondly. It had been almost a year since her and her husband settled in these lands with their clan. They had seen no war, no starvation, and no oppression of any sort except the occasional sickness that befell a few members of their clan. An entire village had sprouted up around them, with smoke churning from several chimneys, and the sweet aroma of breads from the recently erected bakery made Isla smile as she stared down at her infant child, Delilah.
“Aye, lass,” Isla beamed as Delilah’s delicate and new features curved into a smile. “Ye see? There is nae need tae fuss. All is well.”
Moments later, Isla could hear the sound of hoof beats approaching her cottage from behind her. She did not need to see the source of the commotion to know that it was Finlay and Gavina returning after a week’s ride to patrol the surrounding territories and make sure all is well.
She turned around, a fleet of four riders marching up to her with Finlay at the lead and Gavina, who was now tall and sporting the features and curves of a grown woman riding directly to his right. I
sla couldn’t help but smile when she saw them both, and was forever perplexed at the growth spurt that Gavina had undergone in the past nine months.
“Sister,” Gavina said, dismounting her horse before it had come to a stop, her tone laced with the weary quality that only a week’s worth of riding and traversing could bring about.
They embraced, Gavina then taking Delilah from Isla’s arms and planting a kiss gently on her forehead.
