But one lesson her father had always taught her was about never settling for anything less than what she deserved. Myra seemed to think that having something was better than nothing, but Ellen wanted to feel the same thing that Robin described when he had seen Myra for the first time. She wanted to feel that heady feeling of dizziness, the dreamy, hazy dancing twilight that lifted her spirits and called out to the heavens, praising the angels and the Lord Almighty for blessing her with such a feeling.
As yet, she had not felt anything like that. Indeed her heart searched desperately, but all the men she met were either rude or worse, entirely dull. There had been some handsome ones between them, but as they were paraded in front of her Ellen found herself becoming bored with the procession and wanting something more, something different. Perhaps it would have been better if she had been able to choose the man herself, but alas, even that was taken away from her.
She leaned against the bench and looked up to the sky. She saw a single bird circling before it swooped away, spreading its mighty wings as it soared into the great unknown and became nothing more than a speck. Ellen looked towards the bird with envy as she would have loved to fly away and see the wider world. As it was, she was shackled by the chains that society placed upon her.
Gazing towards the courtyard, she was determined to have another conversation with her father about her future when he returned. Perhaps she could convince him to allow her more freedom. It was just a matter of time before he came home. She told herself that she didn’t have anything to be worried about. Robin had been unconcerned when he’d left.
“It’s just a simple matter of some Highland bandits raiding a village. We’ll drive them off soon enough,” Robin had said before kissing her on the cheek. But Ellen found it difficult to quell the unsettling feeling that churned in the pit of her stomach.
But when the gates to the courtyard opened and the thunder of hooves could be heard, it was not Robin returning at all, but a messenger. His face was stricken and his tunic was stained with blood. He alighted from the horse and ran through the house, towards Myra. Ellen saw him and ran in behind him, making sure that she didn’t miss out on anything. She was a few paces behind, but when she arrived in her mother’s chambers she saw the results of the news and knew what message the boy had delivered. Myra’s shoulders slumped and her head was in her hands. She wept fretfully, and the messenger didn’t know what to do with himself.
“I’m sorry my Lady,” he said. Ellen stormed forward and pushed him aside. Tears stung her eyes and she sat beside her mother, holding her tightly. Tears trickled down her cheeks and the chamber was filled with the wailing of a widow and her child.
2
It had been a few days since they had received the news about Robin, and it was still impossible to take in. Part of Ellen wondered if the messenger had made some mistake and it wasn’t Robin who had died, but someone else. There was no mistake though. Apparently the Highlanders had been brutal and weren’t easily driven off. They had smashed through the first wave of defenders and the skirmish had been chaotic and brutal. It wasn’t known who had killed her father, and only a few straggling survivors had emerged from the battlefield. Once the message had been delivered the boy moved on, and Ellen wondered how many other families he was going to have to see that day, delivering the same terrible news.
Myra was like a ghost, pale and distant. The years slipped off her and she looked practically ancient, almost like a ghoul. Ellen felt the same inside, as though her heart had been ripped out and replaced with an abyss. She was numb and felt like there was nothing left inside her. Thoughts careened around in her mind, asking herself if there was anything she could have done.
“Perhaps if I begged him to stay he might still be alive,” she said, but it was no use.
Myra shook her head. “There was nothing either of us could have done,” she said. “Your father was a stubborn man and he was always going to do what he thought was right. This was his job, his duty, and he wasn’t going to turn his back on it. There was nothing we could have said that would have stopped him going. He just fought one battle too many. After all this time…” Her words choked into a breath. “I thought he might be blessed and we would be spared this fate, that perhaps he could be one of the few soldiers who get to die in their own bed. But now it’s just us…”
Just the two of them. It was a frightening thought. Robin had always been there, standing tall and strong, bearing the brunt of any sorrow that might come their way. Suddenly the future was filled with all kinds of fearful possibilities and uncertainty. Ellen had no idea what was going to happen next. The first day was spent crying together, and then the fear set in.
Ellen had never seen her mother appear so weak before. It was as though all the strength had been sapped from her body. She barely ate and it was left to Ellen to try and force her to eat some broth, bread, and cheese. Myra nibbled at them, but didn’t seem to enjoy it at all. Neither did Ellen. The food was bland and tasteless, and she wondered how long she would feel this way.
The hollowness in her heart lasted longer when she realized that they weren’t even going to be able to get her father’s body back, or any of the jewelry that he had been wearing. It was usually the right of the family of the deceased to receive his weapon, clothes, and other possessions upon death, but according to the messenger the battlefield was bathed in blood and there wasn’t a soul who dared wade through it until the Highlanders had dispersed. By now it was more likely that a villager had seen an opportune moment to scavenge the dead, creeping about the battlefield like a vulture, stealing the possessions of the deceased. And the body, well, who wanted to wade through a mass of dead bodies to find one and then drag it back to the estate for a burial? It was grim work, and Ellen certainly wasn’t going to do it.
“I can go to the village and ask around to see if anyone saw a looter,” she offered. “I’ll find Father’s possessions. It’s only right that they came back to us.”
“No love, you should stay here, where it’s safe. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to put yourself in harm’s way,” Myra said softly.
“Father knew that I could take care of myself. He taught me everything. If there’s someone out there who has robbed his body then we should do all we can to get them back. They’re ours by right!”
“That may be, but whoever stole them has undoubtedly sold them by now. You’ll be chasing whispers and rumors and it’ll cost you more to get them back than they’re worth. No, you should stay here, with me. We have matters to discuss,” Myra said.
Ellen had a feeling she knew what was coming. Although it was a terrible, tragic time, she didn’t want to let her mother take advantage of the situation.
“If this is about marriage, Mother, I don’t—”
“Yes it’s about marriage!” Myra snapped. Her eyes flashed with lightning and it was the strongest sign of life Ellen had witnessed from her since they received the awful news. “Your father brought coin into this estate. He worked hard to give you a good life, but it’s going to be more difficult without him around. We need a man, Ellen. We need someone who can broker deals with tradesmen and merchants, we need someone who can provide for us. Nobody is going to want a widow like me, so all our hopes lie with you. We need someone to take care of us,” Myra said.
Ellen scowled and turned her face away. She had to bite her lip so she didn’t say anything she might later regret considering how fraught her emotions were. Anger and resentment coiled inside her like a hissing serpent and all she wanted to do was lash out at the world. She would have loved to have grabbed a sword, mounted a horse, and galloped in pursuit of the man who killed her father, and then gone on to find the people who had looted his body and made them pay for the injustice. She would have loved to cut through the bandits and Highlanders of the world, slashing her way across the country, spilling evil blood and sending back coin to her mother.
But that was the life for a man, not a woman. Her place was by a man’
s side, tending to the home while he went out and fought against the evils of the world. It was a piteous fate, and now she was beginning to see that it was an unavoidable one. Without the rock of her father she was adrift and alone, afraid that anything might happen. Her mother was right; they needed someone to take care of the estate.
There was one other thing that her father had told her, something she had found difficult to take to heart.
“Sometimes in life you have to do things you do not want to do for the sake of the people you love. Love is about sacrifice,” he said. His phantom words reached her as though he was calling to her from beyond the veil of mortality. A silent tear trickled down her cheek as she began to accept the fact that she would never get to have the life she truly wanted, because she had been born into the wrong body, and there was nothing she could do about that. And now she would have to sacrifice everything she wanted in life for her future and that of her mother.
The only remaining matter to be decided was who she would get married to.
“You’ll have to change the way you live. You can’t be spending all your time outside. What kind of household will you have?” Myra said. She had finally stopped crying and her morbid mood was lifted, but only because she had taken it upon herself to lecture Ellen on everything that needed to change. Ellen listened with a glum look on her face, resigned to her fate.
“Yes Mother,” was her dull, monotonous reply that encapsulated her lack of enthusiasm for the prospect of giving herself to a man. Myra was dictating to her all the things she had to change about herself; such as how Ellen couldn’t wander about the wild world as freely as she was used to doing because she would have more pertinent responsibilities to take care of. She would also have to hold herself elegantly at all times and speak clearly, but always in deference to her husband. It was difficult to hear all this because it didn’t seem as though Myra took heed of the lessons that she was preaching, but Ellen was too tired to argue.
She had barely slept since she had learned the news of her father. Whenever she lay her head against the pillow and tried to sink into the soft warmth of the bed, closing her eyes to all the ills of the world, she ended up thinking of nothing but her father. She imagined him on the battlefield and couldn’t stop wondering about how he might have died, the pain of being stabbed with a sword, or the feeling of loneliness as his body fell to the ground. She wondered what he thought about, and which warrior had the prowess to fell her father. Before he died she had been aware of the dangers in the world, but they had always seemed far away and distant because her father had been there to protect her. Now that he was gone she felt vulnerable, and the estate seemed that way as well. The Highlanders had been getting braver in their attacks. Ellen was afraid of what might happen if they attacked. When word of Robin’s death spread they might see an opportunity to strike, and that was another reason why Ellen needed to get married, for protection.
Ellen was confident of her ability with a sword, but she was untested in battle and didn’t think she could do well against a battalion of Highlanders who were storming the gates. She curled her arms around herself in a protective manner as she thought about what they might do to her. She had heard the stories of how brutal and ravenous they could be, and she shuddered at the thought of it.
The world was a lot darker without her father in it. She hadn’t realized until then how much she depended on him for a feeling of safety and wellbeing. The nights were long and sleepless, and by the morning her pillow was soaked in tears and she wasn’t sure how she was going to be able to continue without him in her life. Myra was the same. The two women were desolate and inconsolable, and although Ellen had plenty of fine and happy memories to nourish herself on, she was filled with longing for the memories that they would never get the chance to make. The man who killed Robin had robbed him of the rest of his life, and that would never be forgiven.
As the silver moon hung like a lantern above, as it cast its ethereal glow across the land and made the sea shimmer in a silvery light, Ellen’s chest burned like a furnace and her heart turned to coal. She made a silent vow, a secret hidden in the dark depths of the night, to find the man who killed her father and avenge him. She didn’t care that it was something a traditional woman wouldn’t do, or that her mother and eventual husband wouldn’t approve of. It was the duty of a child to avenge a parent’s death, and she was not going to shirk that duty.
Ellen didn’t know when she was going to pursue this quest or how she was going to go about it, but she was going to find that Highlander somehow before she died. She was going to look him in the eyes and tell him about the man he killed and the sorrow he had sown, and only then would she be able to be at peace with her father’s death.
The numbness and deep aching pain had quickly become a normal part of Ellen’s existence in the days after the message had been delivered. It was strange to Ellen how life needed to continue. People still needed to eat, the animals still needed to be cleaned and tended to, and the world wasn’t going to stop because one man had died, even though it felt as though it should. Ellen spent as much time with Myra as possible, until Myra became too difficult to be with and Ellen had to go and spend time by herself. But a few days afterwards, as the afternoon sun was making its way across the sky ready to relinquish the throne to the evening moon, a rider approached the estate.
He was dressed in a black cloak that billowed out behind him. His horse was the same obsidian shade, and it bellowed out a mighty whinny as the rider approached. There were two saddlebags slung over the horse, and it had blue blinders over its face. Its mane was black and flowed majestically as the wind caught it. The rider had his head bowed low to ensure that his hood didn’t blow back, protecting his eyes from the whipping wind. As the horse slowed, the rider alighted in one graceful movement, landing on the cobblestones of the courtyard with aplomb. Ellen was sitting in her usual spot, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders when her skin began to prickle with goosebumps, so she watched it all with great curiosity.
The rider flung back his hood and unclasped his cloak. It fell into his arms and he thrust it into one of the saddlebags, after giving his horse a vigorous rub on the side of the neck. As soon as Ellen saw him she recognized him.
“Alan!” she cried out, and leaped up from the bench. Alan turned around and grinned when he saw Ellen. He was thirty-five and was almost as tall as her father. He had a narrow face with a mop of black hair that always seemed to be askew. He wore leather hunting boots, thick trousers, and a white tunic that was open at the collar. He had leather gloves on, and a sword hung by his side. Stubble lined his face, and his crooked smile greeted her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him in a quick hug.
“I’m sorry that my visit isn’t in better circumstances,” he said. “Your father was a great man, and I only wish I could have done more to help him.”
“You were there?” Ellen asked.
Alan nodded. “I’d like to tell you all about it, but perhaps it’s better if we go and see your mother,” he said. Ellen acquiesced and led him into the house where her mother was sitting by the fire, trying to warm the cold emptiness inside her, but no fire could warm the deep abyss that had taken hold around her heart.
Ellen was glad to see Alan though. The man had been something of a protégé of her father’s. Robin had trained him, and in those days Ellen had looked on with envy at their lessons as she wanted to be a part of them. Now he was here, and things seemed a little bit brighter.
3
Ellen and Alan walked into where Myra was sitting. Myra was staring at the flames as though they held some secret.
“Mother, we have a visitor,” Ellen said gently, placing her hand on Myra’s shoulder. Myra didn’t stir. She just gazed into the flickering flames.
“Myra...it’s me, Alan,” he said, introducing himself, stepping out of the darkness to be illuminated by the orange glow of the fire himself. As soon as she heard that it was him, Myra turned and gas
ped. A smile appeared on her face. It was the first positive emotion she had shown since they had learned of Robin’s death. She flung her arms around Alan’s shoulders in relief, as though she was welcoming a long lost son back into her home.
“Alan, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you. How did you know what happened? Robin told me that you were out roaming the Highlands looking for adventure? Or have you just arrived and you were looking for him, in which case I’m sorry…but he’s dead,” she said, choking on the last words as though they were too difficult to speak.
“I know Myra, I know. I’m sorry. I wish I had come at a better time. I was in the Highlands, yes. It’s a deadly, horrid place filled with all manner of evil,” Alan began. Ellen listened intently, eager to hear about this aspect of life as it was something that she wanted to experience for herself. Alan had always had a wandering, adventurous spirit, and he managed to live the life that she had always dreamed of.
“But after some time I began to miss home, so I returned and I managed to turn my profits into something more substantial. I took on a few contracts and also earned favors from some nobles, and I was able to procure myself a small homestead on the border of Scotland, near where the battle took place. It has never been the safest area, but even this show of force left me surprised as I didn’t think the Highlanders would come with such ferocity.”
Highlander’s Twist 0f Fate (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 2
