The lanes through the forest were long, winding, and desolate. Villages were dotted along the road where people plied their trade and struggled along, eking out a humble existence from the land. They passed groups of hunters going out towards the forest ready to find food that would help sate the village’s hunger, and other carts that trundled along, carrying goods to be traded. As they drew nearer to Alan’s home the land around them became sparser. They passed boggy ground and a dark lake, and in the distance mountains rose. Ellen gazed out into the murky world ahead, the Highlands, that held so much mystery and awe for her. Robin had always warned her to never go beyond the boundary because the men there were dangerous and, in truth, more like beasts than men. Her heart hammered against her chest in anticipation when she gazed out into the unknown, knowing that was where adventure awaited her.
It seemed as though the land had been forgotten. Few people were willing to make their homes this close to the border, where it was easy for a group of Highlanders to run down and take what they wanted. Perhaps, Ellen thought, my new life might not be so bad after all. Being this close to the border might bring adventure to me.
Suddenly she heard a frightened shout from the driver. The horses whinnied and the wagon jerked as it came to a halt. Myra looked frightened. Ellen steadied herself as the horse bucked and caused the entire wagon to jerk.
“What’s going on?” Myra asked in a trembling voice, when thunder seemed to surround them. Ellen peered out and saw a group of riders. Panic and fear flared inside and she gulped desperately, wishing that she had a sword by her side. Now more than ever she wished that her father was still alive, because she knew he would never have let anyone do this to her.
Steel clashed. Ellen screamed as she saw the driver being flung back with an axe driven through his chest. Ellen pressed herself against the inside of the wagon, praying and hoping that it would all be over soon. Shadows of the men outside danced inside the wagon. The horses were in a frenzy and the wagon rocked and rolled, threatening to tip over completely. The door was flung open and Myra screamed. A red-haired brute with a red beard stood there, smoldering with intense anger.
Ellen met his gaze and for a moment everything seemed to stand still. His green eyes burned with passion and his entire burly body bristled with strength and power. He did not look like any man she had ever seen before. He looked like a wild animal.
Myra dug her hand into Ellen’s skin, but the pain was a distant one. Ellen was about to speak when the horses outside jerked once again and the wagon shook violently. Ellen hit her head against the thick wood, and everything went dark.
Ellen awoke to the steady rhythm of a galloping horse. She grimaced and tried to move her arms, but noticed that she was tied to the back of her horse. There was no sign of her mother. She strained against the ropes, but at this speed it would have been dangerous to fall off the horse, so for the moment she decided to remain quiet and try and learn about her captors. She craned her neck around and looked to the man on the horse in front of her, the same man who had opened the carriage door. She had been struck by the look in his eyes, and it caused an uncomfortable, unusual sensation in her stomach. She was almost convinced that it wasn’t due to the way she was positioned on the horse.
“I thought they’d be gone after we won the battle, but the English are like demons. They keep coming up from the pits of hell, more and more of them without end,” one of the Highlanders said in his thick accent. Ellen had only ever heard her father’s approximation of one so it took her a few moments to get used to the way they said certain words, and she had to focus carefully on each one to get the proper meaning.
“Aye, and they’ll keep coming until they’ve got what they wanted. We cannae let them take the land. If they want tae keep coming then we’ll keep fighting, and we’ll see how long they can keep it up for,” the man who had captured her said. Ellen thought this couldn’t be true because the English only ever fought for noble causes. Then, another thought struck her. From the way they were speaking she was confident in assuming that they were the same Highlanders who had fought her father. The man who killed Robin might well be in their midst.
At this thought she couldn’t be quiet any longer and railed against her captivity, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Who are you? What do you want with me? Where’s my mother? Where are you taking me?” She caused such a commotion that the Highlanders had no choice but to stop and let her down from the horse, because she was liable to stir the animal into a frenzy.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she backed up and glared at the Highlanders, scowling and taking the measure of them.
“I’ve heard about men like you, about how you prey on women’s virtues. Well, you’re not going to take mine. You just put a sword in my hand and I’ll fight any one of you!” Ellen said as firmly as she could, although she wasn’t confident that she had managed to hide the trembling nerves in her voice. The Highlanders looked mean and surly. The sun was setting behind them and the world was dark. If she could run she might be able to escape.
“I told ye she’d be trouble, Duncan,” one of the Highlanders said. Duncan, the man who had captured her, stepped forward stroking his chin. He had a thick beard and a thick neck. His body was packed with muscle. He wore a tight tunic that stretched over the expanse of his torso and wore a sash that came around his body and wrapped around his waist. In his back he had a claymore that was the size of a small man, and he wore a reddish kilt and dark boots.
“Aye, well, I could nae leave her with the horses threatening to tear that wagon apart,” he said, and then turned to Ellen. “If ye would be quiet for a wee moment I’ll let ye ride properly with me. Ye were nae waking up.”
His voice was deep and commanding and his green eyes were captivating. His mere presence would have stunded her in any other case but rage was flowing in her veins right now.
“I don’t care! You can’t just take me prisoner like this! And what about my mother?”
“Aye lass, I dinnae know what tae tell ye. She fainted like ye and she…well…I dinnae think she made it. I rescued ye lass. The horses were gaeing crazy. They would hae stomped on ye if I had nae taken ye away.”
Ellen clenched her jaw and swallowed her fear. “Well, in that case I thank you and I’ll be taking my leave of you now,” she said, and proceeded to walk briskly away, before breaking out into a run. Her feet pounded the ground as she tried to shake her hands loose of the restraints. Behind her, the Highlanders laughed uproariously. Sweat beaded on her temple as she pushed herself as hard as she could, only to hear a horse coming up behind her. Duncan whirled it around and blocked her path. He alighted from the horse and scratched the back of his head.
“I dinnae think ye want tae dae that lass, it would take ye a while tae get where ye are gaeing.”
“Oh yes, and I’m sure you’d hate for me to leave your captivity. You’re no better than bandits. Now get out of my way,” Ellen said. Her father had taught her many things in life. One of them was to always stand up to bullies because they preyed on the weak, and more often than not a fight could be won before a weapon was drawn. She moved to walk forward again, but Duncan was steadfast.
“We’re nae bandits lass, and ye insult us by suggesting it,” he said in an intimidating growl.
Ellen wasn’t going to listen to him though. The word of a bandit could never be trusted.
“You captured me and you raided land that doesn’t belong to you.”
“That land is ours by right!” Duncan said so vehemently that spittle flew from his mouth. One of his hands rose in anger and his face twisted with fury. “It’s being trespassed along, and we are only defending our territory. We dinnae capture women, only prisoners of war, and it will only end when ye English learn tae stay where ye belong.”
Ellen was filled with mixed emotions, but she couldn’t believe there was a war going on, or that the English were the aggressors.
“Ye can gae if ye want las
s. I’m nae gaeing tae keep an innocent lass here, but tell the rest of ye people tae stay out of our land,” he said, and promptly handed her the reins to a horse. Ellen took them and looked bemused. She hadn’t actually been expecting her protestations to work so she stood there for a few moments, before realizing that she shouldn’t wait in case he changed his mind. She studied him, making sure that he wasn’t going to try and stop her, and then mounted the horse in one graceful movement. The other Highlanders seemed just as dumbfounded as her.
“What are ye daeing?” they cried out, gesticulating wildly at her.
“Let her gae,” Duncan said. Their eyes met again and wild emotions surged through her. She geed the horse and it turned around, galloping through the forest to a safe land. Her heart raced with fear and she crouched low, worried that an arrow would find its way into her back, or that they would chase after her and hunt her down in some sick game.
But neither of those two things happened. She fled into the night, leaving the Highlanders behind, and she was utterly confused. Everything she heard about Highlanders told her that they were no better than bandits and showed no mercy to their prisoners, but this man had released her and claimed he had saved her from certain death. Panic flooded her mind as she remembered what he had said about her mother. She urged the horse on and raced back to where she had been captured from, hoping that the unthinkable hadn’t truly happened. Sorrow flooded through her body as she thought of the unending tragedy that was her life. Perhaps the Highlander had taken pity on her because her mother was dead. If so, then it was likely that he had had some hand in her father’s death as well. After all, he seemed to be the leader so he would have led the attack.
Unless what he said was true and the English were the aggressors…her mind was a mix of confusion.
She rode hard and fast, pushing the steed to its limits as it raced into the darkness. Its hooves thumped against the ground and the air whipped around her, before she slowed, and thought for a moment. She had no idea where she was, or how to get back home. If her mother was truly dead then was there even a home waiting for her? There was Alan, she supposed, but what if she couldn’t get back to him? No, Ellen couldn’t accept that her mother was dead. There must have been some mistake. How could she trust the word of a Highlander?
The horse snorted and sniffled as she peered into the darkness all around her. Looking skyward, she saw the smudges of clouds resting against the stars; they did not help her find her location. She could have been anywhere in the world. Suddenly she felt the cold creeping up on her, as though the shadows had been stalking her, waiting for her to stop before they preyed on her like vicious ghouls, waiting to drain her life. Ellen’s skin shivered and she felt vulnerable. She turned and rode back to the Highlanders.
She thought they would have been monsters, but they were not. The leader was even, dare she think it, quite handsome in a rugged, masculine way, the same way a jagged, brittle mountain looked majestic and impressive.
Going back to them was the lesser of two evils, but at least they had a fire and food, and if any wild beast lurked in the woods they could protect her. When she returned, they laughed and exchanged coin. Apparently a wager had been placed on how long it would take her to return. She glowered at this and summoned as much courage as she could, endeavoring to make herself a sword so that she might cut through any of their wanton desires.
Duncan smiled at her and then turned away and begun laughing. His laugh was deep like thunder.
A tight ball of fury coiled inside her.
“Did you want me to die?” she asked. “Is that why you let me leave by myself, because you knew I’d never make it back home? Do you make a habit of attacking wagons and then playing games with the survivors? What kind of man lets a maiden ride through the forest by herself?”
Duncan turned and studied her. All the other men suddenly stopped laughing, shocked that she would speak to him like that.
“First ye want me tae let ye gae, then ye’re angry when I dae just that. Aye, ye are a typical woman alright,” Duncan sighed. The men laughed, but Ellen didn’t find it humorous at all.
“All the stories are right about you. You’re nothing but bandits, preying on the weak and innocent and taking what you want. It’s disgusting.”
The man approached her a little and it was enough to make her scared. His face was now straight.
“There’s a lot ye need tae learn about the world lass. I dinnae want war, but as long as my clan is threatened I will fight tae protect it. Ye are welcome tae come with us, and maybe ye’ll change ye mind. If nae, ye can ride back tae England and let the gods guide ye way home.”
Ellen hated hearing him claim that the English were the villains in all of this, but she started to wonder if everything was not as it appeared. The thought of riding through the forest alone was scary, and there was something intriguing about these men. She wanted to know why they thought the English were bad, and if the stories she had heard about them were true. So she stayed, although she found it difficult to sleep during the night as she was afraid that something might happen to her, despite Duncan’s insistence that she was protected. But when the morning sun rose Duncan gathered them all and they rode on.
A few Highlanders murmured at her presence, not approving of Duncan’s decision, but none of them dared to oppose his will. He had a commanding presence and absolute trust over all of these men.
There was something attractive about that.
5
Alan was sitting at home, drinking a goblet of wine. He stroked his beard. His face was cast in shadows as a fire flickered beside him. He raised the goblet to his mouth and his hand twitched. Wine spilled over his hands, as dark as blood. He cursed and scowled, shaking the wine off. He leaned forward and rested his head against his hand, rubbing his temples. He stared into the fire. The heat glowered and beat against his eyes, surrounded him, consumed him. In the dancing flames he saw shadows and images, echoes of dark deeds that weighed like a boulder on his mind. He breathed heavily and took another long draught of wine, swallowing the liquid deep, feeling it slide down his throat.
He pushed his errant thoughts aside, thinking of the future. It wouldn’t be long now until he had a beautiful young bride sharing his bed, a girl he had coveted for a while now. She was the picture of innocence, youth, and beauty. Just thinking about her made his soul swell and his heart thundered in his chest. Soon enough he would have his hands on her supple skin and her warm, pliable flesh would press against his. It would be heaven, and she would give him so many beautiful children. It was no less than he deserved, after all. He had been through so much, his body scarred and battle-hardened, his mind tense and taut with all the dark horrors he had seen.
Ellen was a shaft of bright light shining through a bleak and murky night. She was hope for the future, and with her by his side he knew that everything was possible. He had already taken the first steps towards a better life and now all he needed was to see his plan through to fruition. Once she arrived he would make haste in making her his bride. She would no doubt want to embrace happiness given the tragic demise of her father. Dear old Robin, Alan thought to himself, it’s such a shame about what happened to him, but war is such an unkind business and there is never any telling what might happen in the unyielding chaos of battle.
He clutched the goblet tightly as he thought about having Ellen by his side. Soon enough people would pay attention to him. After his years of wandering they would all see what a truly noble soul he was, but the waiting was interminable. Ellen was hesitant, yes, but soon she would come around and see what a fine husband he could be. Then she would perform all her wifely duties. That is one area in which Robin failed, Alan thought. He should have been more disciplined in raising Ellen. She was a willful girl who had no qualms in speaking her mind, a quality that would have to be dealt with, as it would get tiresome. It seemed as though he would not have to just be a husband to her, but something of a father figure as well, which was only
natural when a girl of her age was taken for a wife. After all, that was one of the benefits of them marrying someone so experienced.
“Alan! Alan!” he heard someone cry as they entered his estate. He rose and walked to the door, seeing Myra walking towards him. She looked bedraggled. Her hair was unkempt and dried blood stained the side of her face. She looked pale, and she walked with a limp. Fear instantly seized him as he noticed that Ellen wasn’t with her. There was another man, bearded, with a ragged top and a woolen cap. Myra rushed up to him as fast as she could, stumbling at the last step. She fell into his arms and he caught her in a heap. Tears rolled down her cheeks, making tracks through the dust and dirt that peppered her face.
“She’s gone. They took her!” Myra wailed. Alan asked her questions, but she was too distraught to make any sense. He supported her as she walked into the room and he made her sit down, giving her some wine to help calm her nerves. He turned to look at the man who had brought her to his estate.
“What is the meaning of this?” Alan demanded.
“Well, y’see sir, I was riding along with my cart, I’m a merchant y’see, and I saw this overturned carriage on the road. Well, I took it upon myself to inspect it and I heard this whimpering. Sorted through the damage. Saw a dead body; must have been the driver, and then I found her. In a bad way she was. I gave her some water and helped her to her feet, but she kept going on and on about the same things all the way here. I managed to get her to tell me where she was going, so I brought her straight here. Is it her daughter she’s talking about?”
“Yes,” Alan said through gritted teeth, “her daughter and my betrothed.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry to hear that sir. By the looks of it the wagon came under attack by bandits. I didn’t take too long to look around on account of the lady’s state, but it didn’t look like there was much left. I didn’t see any sign of another girl either, just horse tracks leading away, and a lot of them.”
Highlander’s Twist 0f Fate (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 4
