Laiden's Daughter

by Suzan Tisdale

  Angus was opening his door as Duncan stomped down the hallway. “What the bloody hell?” Angus boomed and tried to focus his bleary eyes. When he saw the look on Duncan’s face he knew it could not be anything good.

  “Aishlinn be gone!” he yelled as he approached him.

  “What the hell do ya mean she be gone?” Angus bellowed his question.

  “She left! Sometime in the night.”

  They stood staring at one another, angry expressions painted on their faces. Within moments the hallway had filled with people wondering what the yelling was about.

  Angus fists clenched into balls and his knuckles turned white. “Do ye think…” his voice trailed off for he could not bear to speak his thoughts out loud.

  Duncan nodded his head. “Aye, I do!”

  Angus rushed back into his room to dress while Duncan gave an order to a lad who stood in the hallway.

  “Get all the men in the gathering room at once! Every last man in this castle is to assemble immediately. Have the warnings blown!”

  The lad left at a full run, understanding the importance of Duncan’s order.

  “What has happened?” Isobel asked worriedly as she wrapped a plaid around her shoulders.

  Angus was livid. “Me foolish daughter has left! And I suspect she’s gone to turn herself over to the damned English!”

  His voice boomed as he strapped his broadsword to his back and hurriedly tucked a dirk into each of his boots.

  Horror washed over Isobel’s face. “Why? Why would she do such a thing?” She could make no sense of it.

  “Because she believes if she turns herself over to the English, there’ll be no battle!” Angus roared. “She thinks she’s saving the clan by doing it!” His hands shook as he shoved a dirk into his belt and strapped his sword around his waist.

  Isobel covered her mouth with her hand. “How could she have left unseen?” she asked.

  Duncan’s eyes grew wide. “The passages,” he said, turning on his heals and running as fast as he could to the kitchens.

  “Mary!” he called. “Have ya been to the larder yet this morn?”

  “I have,” Laren said from her place by the fire, her voice quivering at Duncan’s scowl and angry voice.

  “Could ya tell if the passage door had been moved?” he demanded.

  She nodded her head. “It was standing wide open when I went down this morn. I thought it was the lads! They sometimes like to sneak down there to drink ale when no one is looking!”

  Duncan let loose a tirade of blasphemies as left the kitchens and headed back to the gathering room. Men were pouring in from all directions, some fully dressed and strapping on weapons, while others came barefooted or bare-chested or both.

  “Aishlinn has gone,” he said, as Richard and Findley entered the room with Black Richard and Wee William.

  “Gone?” Wee William asked looking perplexed. “Gone where?”

  Duncan ran a hand through his hair as anger flashed within him. “We think she’s gone to turn herself over to the English.”

  Black Richard stood aghast at the idea. “Why in God’s name would she do that?”

  Angus entered the room in time to answer his question. “She thinks if she turns herself over to the English, there’ll be no bloodshed in her name.” His voice boomed, silencing each man in the room.

  “She left through the passages, Angus,” Duncan told him. “But I’ve no idea how long ago.”

  When he got his wife back he would tie her to their bed each night before he’d allow her another opportunity to do something so foolish.

  Angus began giving orders. “I want fifty, nay seventy-five of my best men on horseback within the next five minutes.” He yelled at Richard who quickly left the room with the Wee William and Rowan following in close pursuit.

  Angus looked at Duncan. “With any luck, she be wanderin’ aimlessly about and has not yet run into the English bastards.”

  The two men looked at each other for a moment. Duncan shook his head. “Ya’ve no’ yet been blessed with seein’ yer daughter’s persistence and stubbornness first hand,” he told him. “She’s either holdin’ them all prisoner at the end of a bow, or she’s surrendered and is half way to England!”

  Angus pursed his lips. She was definitely Laiden’s daughter. No child of his would be so foolish.

  ******

  Aishlinn was not certain how long she had been walking for she had no idea what time she had left the castle. Her feet and legs told her that it had been quite some time for they were beginning to ache. Of course the exercising of marital rights and consummation that she had partaken of not once, not twice, but three times last night did not help her current physical state much.

  She had no real idea where she was going and could only pray that she would catch up to the English before Duncan woke and found her gone. She prayed as well that if Duncan and Angus set out for her, they would not find her.

  Perspiration had broken out on her forehead from the great distance of land she had covered. The sun had risen long ago and was very high in the eastern sky. She was walking through a dense thicket of woods, heading in a northeasterly direction. With no real idea as to where the English might have been, she resolved herself to the fact that she might have to walk all the way back to Penrith in order to save the lives of her clan. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make, however, and she could only pray that she would not starve to death or fall and break her neck in the process

  As she walked along she kept her eyes firmly planted on the ground for she had already tripped three times. Lost in her thoughts and prayers, she was shaken back to the present by the twitter and snort of a horse. When she looked up to find the source, she was staring into the eyes of a very frightening looking man. Within moments three more equally terrifying men presented themselves, each on horseback. Each wore the bright red coats of King Edwards’s army.

  “Well, good day to you!” The soldier said. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” He asked as he dismounted his steed and walked towards her, smiling as if she were a long lost friend. His teeth were just a few shades darker than stone and his eyes held a hopeful glare.

  Aishlinn swallowed hard for she was quite afraid, but her pride would not allow her to let him see her fear. “I am Aishlinn,” she said firmly. “I am the one your Earl seeks.”

  The soldier stared at her. “Show me your hair.” He demanded disbelievingly. Aishlinn removed her wimple and he could see that in fact she did have short blond hair.

  “I see why the earl wants you. You are a pretty thing.”

  The way his eyes washed over her made her skin crawl but she stood firm and resolute. “Where is your camp?” She asked, lifting her chin in an attempt to look far more confident than she truly felt. “Take me to your sergeant,” she demanded of him.

  The soldier drew his hand back and slapped her hard across her face, the force of it knocking her to the ground. She tasted blood as anger roiled in her belly.

  The soldier bent over and glared angrily at her. “You’ll not be giving me orders!” he spat at her then stood. He motioned to one of the other soldiers and told him to bind her hands.

  “Take the wench to Andrew,” he ordered.

  Before she could stand, her hands were bound with leather ties and she was tossed over the front of horse. The front of the saddle dug into her belly and sent a surge of pain clear to her toes as she tried to adjust herself. The soldier mounted and slapped her hard on her rump. He had a disgusting laugh, rather nasally in its intonation.

  “Settle down there woman! You’ll see yer earl soon enough.”

  They rode hard and fast and by the time they reached the English encampment Aishlinn was ready to vomit from the hard ride and the saddle that dug into her stomach.

  The soldiers stopped in front of a tent where she was unceremoniously tossed from the horse and landed hard on her rump. She wished momentarily that she had a sword, or a dirk that she could plunge
into the bastard’s belly. Quashing her anger, she knew it would do her no good to fight. After all, she had willingly turned herself over to them. What had she expected? The same kindness and compassion her clan had shown her?

  A very tall man with dark hair, wearing the bright red coat of the English military exited the tent at hearing the commotion. His coat however, was embroidered with gold braids at the shoulders and cuffs and signified his command position. He stared down at her with dull brown eyes. He held an irritated expression to his face, as if he had just become aware that he had stepped in manure. “What is this?”

  “She says she is the one we seek, Andrew.” The soldier who had slapped her face walked towards him. “She does have green eyes and short hair.”

  The man they called Andrew continued looking aggravated. “How did her lip come to be cut?”

  “She fell.” The soldier offered nonchalantly.

  Aishlinn shot him a look that told anyone who might be paying any close attention that the man lied. Andrew asked her, “Is this true?”

  She hadn’t a clue how to answer and decided honesty might be the route best taken at the moment. She shook her head but remained quiet.

  “Which of them hit you?” He asked calmly.

  Aishlinn looked at the soldier standing next to Andrew who followed her gaze. “Go to your quarters and stay there,” he ordered him. Before he stomped away indignantly, the soldier shot Aishlinn a look that warned she might want to watch her back in the future.

  Andrew bent and grabbed Aishlinn by her elbow and helped her to stand. “I am deeply sorry for the deplorable actions of my men,” he said as he guided her into the tent. No matter how nicely he attempted to speak, her instincts warned her not to trust the kindness he was displaying.

  He sat her upon a chair and untied her bindings. He studied the burn marks the binds had left and shook his head. She did look a mess, with leaves in her hair and the cut lip, but he imagined she would clean up nicely and be presentable to the earl soon enough.

  “Tell me your name,” he said as he walked to a table and poured a tankard of ale. She declined his offer with a shake of her head.

  “I am Aishlinn,” she told him.

  “What is your last name?” He asked, pulling up a chair and sitting directly across from her.

  “I am a bastard child. I have no last name.” She would not give up her family name no matter what torture they chose to put her through.

  Andrew raised a curious brow. “Where have you been kept all these many months?” he asked quietly as he crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands upon his knee.

  “With a family several miles from here.”

  “Who are they?” He asked.

  “I lied to them,” she began. “They knew not from where I came. They kindly took me in. I helped the lady wife around her home and with her bairns.”

  “I asked for a name,” he said.

  “Please, I tell you the truth. They know nothing of the earl and how I came to be here. They are truly innocent.” She swallowed hard, hoping she would not trip in her own lie.

  “When a visitor came to their home and told of the soldiers that were near and that they looked for a lass with cut hair and green eyes, I knew it was me they searched for. I knew I had to leave for I wanted no harm to come to them. I snuck away in the night to turn myself over to you.” Her voice cracked as she fought back tears. Parts of what she told him were true and she prayed that he would accept her story.

  Andrew eyed her for a moment. “So in order to save the lives of the family that took you in, you readily turned yourself over to us?” he asked calmly. Aishlinn could detect a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  “Aye,” she said.

  He stood then and walked about the room, his hands clasped at his back. He paused and looked to her. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “Tis the truth. I swear it!” Aishlinn said, sending prayers up to God to make this man believe her.

  He strode so quickly to her that she had no time to brace herself before he slapped her across the face. The force of it brought stars to her eyes as she fell to the floor. Her cheek burned and she felt the welt rise almost instantly. He picked her up by her arms and shook her.

  “Do not lie to me again!” He said squeezing her arms with so much force she thought they might snap in two.

  “I speak the truth!” She pleaded with him. “I swear it! They were so kind to me. I knew your soldiers would not take kindly to anyone who helped me!” Her voice rose, thick with fear as she pleaded with him. “I want no harm to come to them. Please, I beg you!” Tears began to stream down her face.

  “I do not believe you,” he seethed. “If you do not tell me the truth, I shall let my men have their way with you. Each and every one of them.” Aishlinn’s mind raced as she prayed for the right words to convince him she told the truth as well as a way to prohibit him from keeping his promise. “But the earl, he has trothed for me,” she said desperately through her tears.

  “Yes, he has,” Andrew said, his voice cool. “We have been told to bring you back, dead or alive. Though the earl would very much rather have you alive, it matters not to me.” He squeezed her arms tighter causing Aishlinn to wince. “I believe you have been sent here as a trap,” he told her.

  Aishlinn was confused. “A trap?”

  Andrew let go long enough to slap her again. Aishlinn looked at him, stunned for she didn’t know what he was talking about. “We know the Scots do not hold us in high regard. They’ll use any excuse to attack us. You’ve been sent here, have you not, to keep us busy while the ignorant Scots surround us?”

  She shook her head vigorously. “Nay! I swear ‘tis not true!”

  Andrew studied her for a moment and he could see the fear in her eyes. He rather enjoyed that look upon her. Carefully, he sat her back in the chair and began to pace. Aishlinn rubbed her face where he had hit her. She was suddenly beginning to wish she had not come, had not turned herself over to them. It had all seemed so hopeless last night, as if she had no other alternatives. She wondered if this was how her mother had felt all those years ago, desperate and with very little, if any, choices at her disposal.

  “We leave immediately,” Andrew told her. “The earl waits not far from here.” A smile came to his face as he saw terror flash in her eyes. “Though he is not well, he does very much wish to see you again before you die.”

  Aishlinn choked on the bile that formed in her belly and raced up her throat. It really was over for her then. But that had been her intent all along, to give herself up, to accept the punishment for stabbing the man who had tried to rape her. She had done it to save her people. A sense of calm came to her then. She could only hope that death would come quickly and that God would forgive her and allow her through the gates of heaven to be with her mother.

  Twenty-Seven

  It had not taken them long to assemble the men and set out in search of Aishlinn. Her tracks were easy to follow as Duncan, Angus and more than a hundred warriors, including those belonging to the Clan McDunnah, headed northeast in search of her. The tracks they followed appeared fresh and they estimated they weren’t more than three hours behind her. She was on foot so the chance of reaching her quickly brought a twinge of hope to Duncan’s heavy heart.

  He was angry with her for leaving, angry with her for acting so foolishly with no apparent regard for her own safety. He was angry with himself as well for not thinking, even for a moment that she would be crazy enough to pull such a stunt.

  If they were lucky enough to find her alive and well, he would be quite tempted to lock her in the oubliette for a fortnight! Well, maybe not an entire fortnight, maybe only a few days. Or mayhap only a few hours. Just long enough to get her attention and show her that she could not just take matters into her own hands and leave without thinking the entire situation through. How could she do this to his heart?

  They followed her trail across the glen and into a dense thicket of wo
ods. Duncan growled when they were forced to slow their pace when the tracks became more difficult to see in the forest. A few men dismounted to get a better look. After what seemed an eternity, they picked up her trail again and traveled on.

  His mind wandered to hellish thoughts; thoughts that they might not find her alive or well. She could very well be in the hands of the English at this moment and God only knew what they were doing to her. Breathing in deeply to settle the growing queasiness, he pushed his horse faster. He had to find her. He had to bring her home.

  He made a deal with God that if He would allow him to find his wife alive and unharmed he would forever serve Him in whatever capacity the Lord wanted him to. He would give all his worldly possessions to the church. He would attend mass on a regular basis and would never take the Lord’s name in vain again. There wasn’t a bargain he was not willing to make in order to see her safely back in his arms. He’d not lock her in the oubliette. Instead, he would climb back into bed with her where he would hold her and not ever let her go.

  They had been in the dense thicket for quite awhile when one of the men spotted something white lying on the ground ahead. He jumped from his horse and retrieved the wimple and brought it to Duncan. Aishlinn seldom wore one. His blood grew cold when he found a few short, golden blonde hairs stuck to the cloth.

  “Duncan, there be tracks here as well. Looks like four horses,” the man said as he walked along following the tracks for a distance.

  His blood froze when he realized his wife had gotten her wish. She was now in the hands of the English.

  ******

  Aishlinn drew into herself as she sat with her hands bound in front of her riding atop a dark gray horse. A soldier rode on either side of her, one of which had the reins of her horse tied to his saddle. They were riding fast and she was barely aware they were heading due east. She paid no attention to what was taking place around her. She was lost in a deep part of herself where the world around her could not enter.

  She thought of Duncan, hoping that he would understand her decision and that he would not be too angry with her. Hopefully, she told herself, he would move on with his life and find someone new to love. She prayed that the good Lord would give him a new life, like the one He had given Isobel and Angus.