by Karin, Anya
“Loose!”
“Whoops!” Douglas let his arrow fly as he stumbled forward. “I’ve tripped! Can I have another go?”
The arrow sailed past the target to the left, and sunk into one of the bales of hay placed behind it for backing.
“I thought you were going to be subtle,” John said, trying to keep from laughing. “That was a bite more flamboyant than I thought you’d be.”
“Ach,” Douglas snorted. “Well if I’m bein’ honest I didn’t mean to do it up quite that wild.”
“True enough friend. I canna thank you enough.”
“Like I said, whenever ‘tis you’re done with whatever you’re doin’, you can repay me with a drink. Only one other thing.”
“Aye?”
“I want to meet the famous Macgregor, too.”
John clasped his hand and shook.
Moving to where they stood, the judge called out “and our winner is the man in the blue woad! Very good, although that last shot was a bit uncontrolled.” He laughed so hard he began to wheeze, and John had to pat him on the back a few times to help him straighten up. “Very good. Mayor, here is your winner, and the second person to be joining you!”
Willard stood, obviously beginning to tire of the festivities, but putting on a fine air anyway.
“Fine, fine. Good to have you join us. I’m assuming you’ll clean up and put on some clothes before too long?”
“Aye, I can probably manage.”
John looked first to Gavin, who nodded in his direction, and then to Lynne, Elena and Olga, all three of them squirming with their hands tied behind their backs. Rage bubbled up inside him, but before he knew what was happening, he was shuttled off by a pair of town guards to a tent where Rodrigo was also waiting.
“They’ve got them. That slick bastard sheriff, he’s-”
“Mhm,” Rodrigo grunted. “I know, I’ve been watching from here. For all his faults, Alan is rather clever. I didn’t think he’d be scouring the crowd for us.”
“Nor I,” John said. “But here we are. What do you think will happen?”
“No way to tell. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough, though.” For a moment, Rodrigo remained silent, and then spoke again. “I can’t shake the feeling that this was all a set-up.”
“The entire festival?”
“No, no, that would be extravagant even to catch the Ghost of Edinburgh and his gang. But something certainly isn’t right. The sheriff suddenly reappearing, the Company mercenaries, and all that, I just canna say.”
Rodrigo nodded, never once taking his eyes off the contest field. “One thing is certain.”
“Aye?”
“We’ll know soon enough whatever it is. Look, they’re bringing out the cabers.”
Four men dragged a row of massive logs, all cut to an equal length and thickness, out to the center of the field where so much had happened in so little time. As each of them grunted and dropped the corner of the massive canvas upon which they carried their load, the crowd became more and more restless. From where she sat, Kenna had a clear view of everything that happened, and she could finally see Gavin.
When the big scuffle happened a few minutes ago, she watched in horror as her three friends were taken away. She looked over to Rollo with worried eyes. The little man only looked at the field, rubbing his hands together, with a terribly nervous look on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Kenna said to him.
“No, I’m just...I don’t know what’s going on down there. I thought Alan was supposed to be at the estate doing some sort of work for the mayor.”
Willard turned and looked at the both of them, a broad and awful smile spreading across his face. “What I said, if you’ll remember, was the sheriff was engaged in work for me. I didn’t specify what. But I assure you, Kenna, your friends will remain unharmed, at least for now. I only have to make sure they don’t do anything that could endanger the Company contract or our wedding. Or, I suppose, our journey. Aren’t you excited about that? What a wonderful chance, to see the exotic Caribbean. I’m so glad you’re coming along.”
Kenna nodded, thinking less about the excitement of sailing for six weeks in Willard’s company, and more about how his voice had gotten distant and high pitched. She wondered if his sanity was slipping. Even still, she couldn’t stop watching the tragic comedy unfold on the field below them. The sheriff and his two men were handing her three friends with immense roughness, pulling them around, yanking them to and fro.
“Canna you do something? They – Alan and those men – they look like they’re hurting those women. Who are they anyhow?”
“Don’t play that game with me, Kenna.” Willard narrowed his eyes. “They’re caught. The men and women alike, we have them.” He said, smiling. “I think it is just about time to depart.”
“Depart? I thought there was some sort of dinner for the winners?”
Willard turned to Kenna. “I’m keeping my end of the bargain, as you’ve kept yours.”
“I’m sorry, but what?”
“I told you that I wouldn’t let your friends hang, didn’t I? Kenna, you don’t seem to understand what a catch Gavin Macgregor actually is. He’s one of the most famous thieves in Scotland. All the nobles he robbed in Edinburgh, all the pain he caused the upper class hasn’t gone unnoticed. If they find out he’s been caught, I don’t think he’ll live through the night. And as you know, secrets don’t stay under wraps for long. This is the best I can do for you...for them. They’ll be going with us to Jamaica, though, as slaves-to-be.”
Kenna shook. She trembled, though whether it was with rage or with terror, she couldn’t tell. “Steven, I...please,” Kenna said. “Do whatever you want with me. I won’t fight you. I’ll go along with you to whatever place you take me. I’ll marry you, I don’t care. Please, just leave my friends alone. They haven’t done anything to you. Gavin, he...”
“He what, dear? Goes about righting wrongs done by the English and making the world safe for Scots near and far? Breaks the King’s law, God’s law, and anything else he sees fit to break in order to do what he thinks to be right? That’s not a crusader, Kenna. That’s not a good person, that’s criminal, that’s outlaw behavior. Life isn’t a Robin Hood legend. Men who take the law into their own hands are no better than the men they seek to punish. Often, you’ll find, they create the men they claim to be evil.”
“How can you say that? How can you defend the men who Gavin has stopped from hurting countless numbers of people? You say he’s as much a criminal as them?”
“You throw around a lot of words, Kenna,” Willard said, stepping close to her. “You say things like ‘criminal’ and ‘evil’ but what does all of that mean? Are we not all evil? Sinful? They break the law but how is his criminal activity any different? Because the things Macdonald did, they affect common people, is that it? Nobles aren’t human, we’re all twisted monsters, waiting to pounce?”
“That’s not what I said at all, you’re not-”
“I’m not what? Crooked? Corrupt? Oh I certainly am not. Everything I do is within the law. Everything I do is for the good of these people you presently see gorging themselves, gluttonous and slothful, on my food and drunk on my drink. Whatever I do, I do to help them. Make them better.” Willard leaned forward, hands on the armrests of Kenna’s chair, his face so close to hers that she would have smelled his breath, if it had any scent. “My whole life I’ve given to these sinful, pitiful wretches. I gave them my daughter.”
“You did nothing of the sort,” Kenna said. “Your daughter was killed by bandits who were themselves slaughtered by other highwaymen. You just blamed it all on us. On the Scots. You needed someone to hold accountable.”
Willard stiffened and waved his hand, dismissing her words. “You think you know the world, Kenna Moore. You think you know everything. You’ve never seen pain. Not really. You’ve never felt what I felt.”
Rollo pushed himself off his bench. “Councillor, they’re waiting for
you. Everyone’s watching,” he whispered. “Please, start the contest. This is...”
“I’ll do what I want, when I want, you hunched over cripple,” Willard snapped. “Return to your bench.”
Rollo’s entire body stiffened, prickling at the insult. But, just as he was ordered, he sat and remained quiet, although his eyes were rebellious. Kenna had never heard Willard speak to him – nay, to anyone – in such a terrible tone before. Something, she knew, had gotten to him. What it was, she had no idea.
“Good. Remain that way, both of you. Quiet, calm, and happy looking. This will be over soon and you can see your precious criminal one last time. Oh, Rollo? One other thing.”
“Sir?” Rollo spoke to, but did not look at, the mayor.
“The ship is ready, is it not?”
“It is, yes sir. An East India Company ship bound for the Caribbean. Ready to leave from the Leith Docks in Edinburgh as soon as you arrive.”
“Good. Very good. I believe that instead of returning home after the contest, we’ll instead make haste to the south. We could be there by midnight, and depart with the sun, yes?”
Rollo gulped and looked at Kenna for a moment before responding. “We could, yes. Although I think that it would be best to-”
“No one wants to know what you think, Rollo. Make sure the carriages are ready.”
Pursing his lips, Rollo replied that they were already prepared to leave and that he’d summon them to the grounds.
“Good. Thank you, dear Rollo. You’re such a wonderful assistant.” He bared his teeth in another terrible smile. “I couldn’t get on without you. Oh, look! The men are assembling to throw these silly logs. Let’s see, shall we Kenna, how your lover fares? Somehow I think he’ll come out ahead. For now.” As he turned back to the field, Willard chuckled, shook his head, and smiled.
“When will they learn, Rollo?”
“When will who learn what, sir?”
“These overly brave children who think they’re going to save the world. When will they learn that they can’t? That no one can?”
Rollo looked at Kenna, patted her on the shoulder and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“And with a truly impressive toss,” Willard said, an obvious sneer in his voice, “the winner of the final contest for the day is the fellow with the rather ornate armor, and the hood covering his face!”
By the time the competitors had all gone through their turns, the unease that began when the scuffle broke out during John’s go at archery had reached a peak. Almost no one seemed to cheer, or even to notice, that the contest was over, so thick and heavy was the concern for the women who disappeared. Almost everyone in Mornay’s Cleft had been by the inn at least once in the past couple of days, so they weren’t strangers to anyone.
Gavin watched as the people filed out of the seats, mostly just confused and looking rather dazed. He himself could barely make sense of what was happening. All he knew was that everyone on the field made no effort at all to throw their cabers.
“Bring them along,” Willard said to his guards, “we’ll be going back to the manor to celebrate by carriage.”
Rough, callused hands shoved him through an open tent flap and he stumbled forward, almost losing his feet. John caught him though, and Rodrigo was standing close enough to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Did you see them? Elena, Lynne and Olga?” Rodrigo asked.
“I did,” Gavin said. “They’re...well, last I saw, the sheriff was taking them off somewhere, him and that pair of mercenary followers he’s got. I get the feeling we’re going to meet up with them again very soon.”
“Aye, and I get the feeling we won’t be having pork pies and washing it down with whisky at the mayor’s table.” John wrung his hands together, cracking his knuckles.
“And I’m surprised that we’re not yet shackled, though that may be soon to change.”
Gavin paced back and forth quickly from where his two friends stood to the opening of the tent to take a look around. “Nothing’s happening,” he called back. “The festival grounds are just emptying out. I canna tell, but from the feeling in the air, this isna a normal way to end a harvest party.”
“Ach, aye, I canna imagine it is,” John said, coming up beside Gavin. “But how strange could a series of events be? There’s nothing that makes sense about any of this. We were costumed so no one would know us. We were spread out and all watching each other to prevent this exact business from happening, and yet here we are, thrown in a tent and waiting for God-knows-what. And then the girls, and then-”
“He’s got Kenna. The mayor, I mean,” Gavin said, his throat tight. “Did you notice how once the sheriff had Lynne and the rest that his mood changed?”
“Mhm,” Rodrigo said. “Mayhaps he was waiting for that, or for some sign from the sheriff. Perhaps that’s the only reason that awful wretch was present? Because he knew us and could pick us out.”
“But these costumes, they should have thrown him off. Especially with the crowd and all the chaos.” John kicked at a small clump of weeds under his foot.
“I hate to break this to you John, but you’re half naked. No amount of woad in the world is going to keep someone from knowing you,” Gavin said.
John opened his mouth to protest, then looked down at his bare chest with the smudged blue paint and said, “Well aye, fair enough, suppose I am a bit of a sight.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he flexed a little. “Look, I’ve no doubt that we – you and I, and Rodrigo too – have gotten ourselves out of much worse situations. The women complicate things, though.”
Gavin sat on the dusty ground. “Aye, true, and I’ve never escaped from a small army of town guards, a crazed sheriff who wants my head on a stick, and a rather determined pair of Company mercenaries.”
“I can kill six at once,” Rodrigo said. Both heads turned to face him.
“What?”
“Six.” He held up his fingers. “I can take that many at once.” He flexed his fist and whipped his rapier from the scabbard on his hip. “They haven’t taken Heloise from me yet.”
“Heloise?” John shot a sidelong glance to Gavin. “You...named your sword Heloise?”
“I always liked the name.” Rodrigo nodded. “Seems fitting.”
For a moment the three men stood in a circle, looking at each other.
“Well, yes, I’m sure you and Heloise,” John stifled a laugh, “can handle six men at once. But what about men with pistols, and what if there’s a lot more than six?”
“Pistols aren’t a problem. Very inaccurate if the target is moving, and unlike you, I don’t want to stand in one place and swing my weapon about my head in a circle.” Rodrigo grinned. “And I said I could take six. If there’s more, you can do a little bit of work at least.”
“I suppose, dear Gavin,” John said, “that our friend’s modesty is not one of his virtues. But the question remains – how many are there? And is fighting even an option? Right now, we have the chance, but assuming we’re to be transported somewhere, I’d expect to be shackled.”
“Ah, yes! Shackles! What a fine idea!” Alan entered almost on cue and spat a brown puddle in the dirt. “Bring the shackles, Franks!”
The guards locked their hands in similar cuffs to those that went on their feet, frisked the three men, and confiscated an arsenal including six knives off John’s person, two from Gavin, and Heloise.
One of them gave Gavin a punch right in the gut, making him double over and suck air.
John grunted in pain when one of them gave him a shot in the stomach. “This treatment makes me wonder if we’re still to have that winner’s feast.”
Gavin shot a wicked glance at John right before a fist crunched against his temple and he fell to his knees. Another punch sent him to the ground.
“Aye, hit us now that we’re bound!” John shouted, rage boiling up inside him. “Take these off me and see what happens!”
Rodrigo too fell, though John didn’t see what took down the big m
an.
“Is he really shouting at us?” Franks said as he lifted John’s chin. “He is, isn’t he?”
John spit directly in the man’s pug-nosed face.
“Oh I’ll enjoy this one.”
John shouted again, rage blasting from his throat in a raw scream.
A meaty fist connected with his jaw, and then the only other noise he made was a thump when he hit the ground.
Eighteen
The Atlantic Ocean
August 23
Gavin opened his eyes. His whole face hurt and he couldn’t remember what it was, exactly, that had happened the past few days. The beatings had been severe, and regular. It seemed as though every time he and his friends woke, either the sheriff, or one of his mercenaries, had appeared to punish them.
Creaking boards and the heave of a wave passing under his feet reminded him that he wasn’t dreaming. For a half second, his stomach lurched and he wished that he was dead instead of in the dark, shackled to a beam in the hold of a ship bound for Jamaica, but then he thought of Kenna. And even with his busted lips, bruised face, and throbbing headache, just her image in his mind calmed him enough to pull him through the pain for a moment longer.
He shook his head and looked to his left, where he knew John was bound, and to the right where Rodrigo was tied. There was absolutely no light at all in the belly of this wooden beast, save when the door to the hold opened.
“You awake?”
“Aye,” John answered. “You?”
“Aye,” Gavin replied, “Thought maybe I was dead, though.”
“I dreamed last night,” Rodrigo said in a husky, thirsty voice, “that we were back in Castile. All of us. We had a...Elena made a huge pan of paella and we-”
John groaned out loud. “Don’t remind me of food. I canna take it with this heavin’ and throwin’.”
Rodrigo chuckled softly, and then hissed a breath. “My mouth hurts.”
