Surrender

by Sophia Johnson

  Elyne averted her eyes, but not before she noted the brothers resembled each other in more ways than she would have expected. Men's body parts were not new to her. She'd seen more of them than most young women from her vantage point in the window opening at Raptor.

  Graemme glared at her as if she'd been the one to bare his brother's treasures.

  They found Mother Cecelia in the courtyard saying goodbye to two monks headed for Kelso. Elyne cringed when she saw a tall monk wearing a fresh robe with a piece of straw caught in the hem. If he knew he wore a robe sullied by bed sport, no doubt he'd have stripped naked on the spot! She breathed a sigh of relief when he mounted his mule and left through the open gate.

  Elyne was next in line to say her farewells.

  "Mother Cecelia, I thank ye for yer comfort and protection."

  "Child, it is always an exciting diversion when you spend time with us."

  The good Mother put her arms around Elyne and hugged her. Drawing back a bit, she studied Elyne's face.

  "You are reconciled the Morgan brothers mean you no harm?"

  "Aye. I suppose I must wed some time, and Sir Graemme is less disgusting than old Baron Hadley with his warty nose!"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Graemme stiffen with displeasure at her opinion of him.

  "Far less disgusting!" Mother Cecelia burst out laughing and hugged her one last time.

  The brothers gave their formal thanks and hurried her away.

  Afore she knew it, they were in the stables. The stable boys had already readied the three horses and even had Elyne's bundle of clothing tied to her saddle. Graemme gave the two boys each a coin for their efforts.

  She took the reins to her horse and led him outside to a mounting block by the horse trough. Her horse stopped for a long drink and sprayed water as he lapped. Far too soon, it was time to mount. Intending to mount by herself, she jumped when strong hands wrapped around her waist and effortlessly lifted her to the saddle. He frowned when she swung her right leg over the horse's back so she could ride astride.

  "Chief Broccin allows ye to ride thus? 'Tis most unwomanly." Graemme's lips pressed together.

  "Ye didna object to Muriele skill at riding, did ye?"

  She directed her question to Magnus, who grinned. The man was forever surprising her. He looked so stern and quiet, like he was about to rail at someone for some minor mistake, and then he broke out in a broad smile.

  "'Tis why she eluded me so easily. I didna expect her to be so adept at riding, much less at the hunt."

  He looked at his brother, obvious pride in his voice. "She once speared a boar intent on ripping me a new, uh, new opening in my back."

  "How did ye take her saving yer arse?" Graemme's eyes watched Magnus' face.

  "I had her seized by my men for stealing a boar spear from my squire. I thought she meant to deprive me of my guts. My foster father Olaf named her the best hunter of the day. I felt like a fool!"

  Graemme laughed for the first time that day.

  "Ye dinna know shame until ye get a nasty dose from yer bride."

  His lips thinned to a white line. Shoving her foot into the stirrup, he adjusted the straps. He was none too gentle or smooth; his movements were hard and jerky. He had to be thinking about the humiliation of everyone knowing he couldn't walk for a whole day because he couldn't be away from a bucket. Had it not been for Aunt Joneta, he and Squat would still be heaving and spreading shite all over the castle grounds!

  She felt some shame for doing such a thing to any person, but if she had her life to relive at this point, she'd do it again. But first, she'd make sure she locked Squat in her room.

  "We should be ready to leave. Thank you, Brother Octavius, for your vigilance over my bride when she came."

  "'Twas an honor to aid Brother Ranald's sister."

  He turned a steely glare on Magnus. "It will be some time afore I forgive yer making an arse out of me and stealing the Lady Muriele from under my nose!"

  Magnus nodded solemnly at him. "I would feel the same if it were done to me."

  "Be watchful for brigands. Many homeless people prey on travelers."

  "Aye," Magnus said as he put his foot in the stirrup and swung up into his saddle.

  Bryan and Colyne fell in line behind him, the rest of the men followed. Graemme walked over, picked up Squat and handed Colyne the dog.

  "Dinna forget to pay heed when he starts to squirm, else ye'll find a yellow stream travelin' down yer leg."

  Colyne tucked Squat against his chest beneath the kilt draped over his shoulder and around to his belt in back.

  Graemme mounted and nodded to the guard to lift the bars that secured the gate at dusk. The courtyard was busy with visitors continuing their journey after stopping for the night. Elyne's gaze searched out the good sisters and Mother Cecelia and waved to them. A lump formed in her throat. Likely, she would not see them again.

  Before she had more time to think about it, Graemme led them out with a fast walk. When they were far enough from the gate, he urged his horse to gallop across the open fields. It would be slow going when they reached the hills on the opposite side. She rode behind him while Magnus followed her to see she didn't stray.

  "We could have broken our fast afore we left," she grumbled. Her stomach was putting out its protest in growls worthy of Squat.

  "When we get to the woods, we'll stop and divide up the bread and cheese," Graemme called back to her.

  "How kind of ye," she said, lifting her nose in the air.

  "We need to make as many leagues today as we can. I don't want to spend more than two nights in the woods."

  Graemme's words were sharp and impatient.

  They started to canter the horses for they were near up to the woodland path. Once they reached there, she started to shiver. The weather was gloomy to begin with, but surrounded by damp woods was not pleasant. The trees still held water from the light rain during the night. She felt a drop in her hair and wished she'd unbundled her cloak so she could pull its hood up.

  True to his words, Graemme pulled over to the side, hurriedly dismounted and untied the bundle of food. He tore off hunks of bread and passed to her and Magnus. Cutting the cheese with the knife secured to his sword belt took a little longer. Her mouth salivated smelling the fresh bread. She put the food on her saddle between her legs so it wouldn't fall off. Looking around, she saw the sisters had given the rest of the men small bundles of food before they left.

  She untied the bundle of clothing from behind her saddle and shook out her cloak. Surprisingly, Graemme pulled his horse alongside hers and helped spread it across her shoulders. While she tied the ribbons at her neck, he spread the heavy wool over the horse's haunches to keep the material from flapping around the animal's legs and spooking it.

  Elyne nodded her thanks, but when she reached to take the reins into her hands, he kept her from it.

  "Nay. I will lead the horse," he said.

  "I'm not helpless. I can feed myself and ride too!"

  "I prefer leading yer horse to plunging through the woods pursuing ye!"

  She huffed and pulled hard. He didn't let go.

  "Goat dung," she muttered under her breath.

  He quirked his brow at her, defying her to elaborate further on what she thought of him. She shoved bread into her mouth to keep from yelling her opinion of him.

  "It doesna matter what ye think of me. Ours is not a marriage of the heart." He snorted and shook his head. "'Tis a marriage of the sword. Likely Chief Broccin will have one trained on my back until the vows are done."

  "If ye both would stop yer quibbling, we would be closer to our destination," Magnus said.

  He put his food in the pocket of his cloak, but not before tearing off a small piece of bread and moving close to Colyne to give it to the drooling dog.

  "Ye should have been a wolf! Ye near bit my fingers, ye ungrateful wretch."

  Though his words were harsh, his tone was mellow. They began again,
though her horse lurched a bit, unused to the rider not controlling the reins. Once its gait smoothed out, she found it was quite easy to nibble on her food and keep it from falling to the ground.

  She huffed as she ate. So, he was afeared she'd take off through the woods, was he? Since she didn't have to pay attention to where they were going, she was free to look at the woods and the creatures living there. 'Twould be good eating tonight, for hares seemed to be everywhere, jumping around and showing off for their females.

  True to her thoughts, when the sun started to wane, Magnus took up his bow and arrow. Soon after, he and several warriors had hares thrown across their horses' rumps and secured to the back of their saddles.

  She was grateful they'd had at least one stop to refresh themselves. Her churlish husband-to-be didn't allow her much privacy. He had Magnus stand to one side of where she went into the bushes and he stayed close to her on the other.

  When she'd stepped on a twig, he was there so quickly he couldn't have been but an arms-breadth away.

  "What are ye doing, woman!"

  "Turn yer back, ye disgusting piece of sheep dung! Cannot ye see I'm trying to keep my skirts unsullied?"

  The eejit looked her over as if she was some strange creature. She flushed so hot she wished for a cold cloth to soothe her face. She thought she had felt shame when Magnus came upon them in the stall, but this was far worse. Later she could have used another break, but she decided to hold off until they stopped for the night.

  The men had no trouble, though. When Magnus pulled off behind them to relieve himself, they kept going forward and he rejoined them. When Graemme needed to piss, he passed her reins to his brother and did the same. Being a man had its advantages. Many of them! She started ticking them off on her fingers.

  They had no need to squat behind a bush. They stood and peed against a tree like the tree welcomed water!

  They had control over their lives. Even the old, gaseous and toothless man could bring a young bride to his bed with little effort. Fathers thought nothing of how the young girl would suffer when a smelly old man had the right to stake his claim on her any night as often as he liked.

  They seemed to answer to no one once they reached a certain age, which was quite young to her thinking. Of course, she wasn't thinking of squires and lower knights, grooms or any such.

  She was thinking of men like the two brothers. Once they decided a woman should be their bride, the selfish churls didn't once think of what she desired.

  To pass the time, she tried to picture men and how they'd be in similar circumstances.

  She grinned and pictured Graemme as he laid in all his naked glory under a crisp, white sheet. In came an old woman with wrinkles on her face, a pot belly from having borne six children. She had knobby knees and missed having more than one tooth. Oh! And her hair was so thin and straggly it left bare spots where her scalp reflected the candlelight.

  She wondered if they could make their precious treasures stand and pay attention. She giggled at the thought of the old woman throwing back the covers to feast her eyes on his hard-muscled body. Would she fall into a rage when she saw he didn't have a cockstand?

  No doubt, his shaft would shrivel up until it hid itself in Graemme's flesh when the old crone put her lips to it.

  "What has ye so amused ye've been snickering like a young lass looking at her first tarse growing hard?" Graemme had turned in his saddle and stared hard at her.

  "Do ye really want to know?"

  "I would," said Magnus behind her. "I've been watching yer shoulders shake and wondered what pleased ye so."

  "I was picturing men having to put up with the same life women have now."

  "In what way?" Graemme said in an impatient tone.

  "Well, can ye imagine pissing and having wet yer shoes?"

  "Why would we do that?"

  "If ye had to be burdened with skirts and tunics, ye would have to stoop to piss. Likely one foot would be in the way."

  "Huh! Our kilts are much alike skirts."

  "Nay. They dinna sweep the ground. Ye are picking at useless things. They dinna hamper yer legs when ye walk, climb or sit down."

  "Aye," Magnus joined in. "Like Muriele when she climbed the pine tree afore ye came upon us in the woods, Graemme. She near killed herself."

  "Surely there's more to Elyne's mirth."

  "For truth. I pictured Graemme sprawled in bed, displaying all his glory. Ye awaited yer mate who had complete control over ye. Even life or death, if ye displeased her."

  "If she's going to have her way with me, I think I would glory in it," Graemme scoffed.

  "Ah, but what if she came through the doorway and was withered with age. She had not taken a bath in weeks. She kissed ye with fervor, drawing yer tongue into her toothless mouth then felt yer, uh, tarse to see if it was eager for her."

  "Dinna be disgusting," Graemme replied.

  "Why not? It happens to women every day. But their loving husbands land a fist on their jaws for not arousing them."

  "Lucifer's foul breath, woman!" Magnus exploded behind her. "Ye are right."

  "How can ye think so, brother?" Disbelief sounded in Graemme's voice.

  "Because of Muriele. When she failed to give Feradoch a cockstand just by looking at her, he beat her and tried to kill her friend Esa because she also refused to do the same."

  "Enough!"

  Graemme's explosive word kept her from talking further. When he glared at her and blamed her for starting such a far-fetched conversation, she shrugged. He may be angry for the talk, but he'd probably think back on it each time he saw an elderly man with a wife younger than his numerous bastards were.

  Her buttocks and legs began to ache from riding so long. She'd be much more comfortable not holding onto the pommel of her saddle for support. Funny, when she held the reins she balanced much better, knowing if the horse was going to swerve to avoid an obstacle in the road or lurch to a stop. A pox on the man!

  The sun didn't go down fast enough for her liking. If they made an early night of it, the longer it would take to arrive at Raptor and their odious wedding.

  When darkness finally crept up on them, Graemme grudgingly found a clearing where they made camp beside a small loch. Her anger flared again when the eejit had her sit on the ground then tied a rope around her and the tree.

  "What does he think I can do, Squat?" She grumbled and began stroking the dog when he came over and put his head in her lap. 'Twas a comforting feeling. "Where in Hades does Graemme think I would go? I'm nay a fool! I'd not set out in a forest alone. Even two men wouldn't travel without a torch to light the way. It would be an invitation for every thief and blackguard in hiding to murder them!"

  The last words faded when the men turned to look at her with grins on their faces. They may as well have reminded her she had indeed done such when she left Raptor. She flushed and clamped her teeth together before she made a further fool of herself.

  After the men had fires going and hare's roasting over them, Graemme came to her to let her take a trip into the woods.

  "Are ye going to be breathing down my neck, or are ye going to be sensible and give me room for privacy?"

  "Ye'll get yer privacy. Just be quick about it," he said as they reached a sizeable bush that would shield her from sight.

  He turned his back, giving her more confidence. She was near finished when she felt something drop on her head. Something wet. And since her head was bent trying to watch out for her feet, its warmth trickled toward her forehead. She jumped up and brushed at her head, but it spread the foul stuff even more. She had bird shite on her hair! The blasted bird must be a friend of the Devil.

  "Lucifer's crud-filled ears," she yelled and came charging from the woods, her head bent as thouogh she intended to ram it into Graemme's chest.

  "Ye willna curse, Elyne. 'Tis most unwomanly of ye."

  Then he began to laugh when she was close enough to see the reason.

  "'Tis no laughing matter! Get t
he soap," she grumbled while heading for the sound of a stream no more than thirty paces away.

  His footsteps were right behind her. She skidded to a halt and turned, unfortunately, for it whipped the foul-smelling hair across her nose. She swatted it away and glared at him.

  "We have no soap. Men never use it while traveling."

  "Ye like yer own stench? Ugh!"

  "Nay. We use sand."

  She marched on to the loch's edge, aware the other men were watching her with amused smiles on their faces. She carefully tried to fasten her skirts behind her. She pulled them tight and clamped them with her knees. The sand was soft and didn't hurt her skin.

  "I wouldna lean there if I were ye," Graemme said.

  "If ye must stand there to see I dinna swim away, kindly keep yer tongue behind yer teeth."

  "If ye say so."

  She snorted in disgust for Graemme sounded amused. The hateful man was probably laughing at her predicament.

  Pulling all her hair from in back to up and over her head, she leaned forward to rinse it. Her left knee wobbled in the sand and she reached into the water to steady herself. It didn't help. Afore she knew how it happened, she was in the water thrashing about.

  Her clothing got in the way of her legs, but she finally rose on her feet. She spluttered and fisted her hands and wanted to hit something. Anything with more substance than water. She glared at Graemme, who didn't bother to look up.

  He stood on the bank slowly unbuckling his sword belt and carefully laying it on the ground. Once the belt was gone, the kilt had nothing to hold it. It flopped to the ground like a wounded bird. In all his naked glory, he came toward her. She backed up. She didn't want his help. Especially his nekid help.

  She backed up. The ledge she stood on ended with only one small step.

  She plunged beneath the water. Squat started barking and stopped abruptly when Magnus' muffled voice told him to be quiet.

  One of the men called out, "Ye'd best fetch yer bride afore she drifts into some water monster's big mouth. She would make him a tasty snack!"

  She kicked her legs harder and fought the water with her arms. As before, her clothes hindered her. Normally, she was a strong swimmer. But then she had worn only her brother's leggings and bindings for her breasts or nothing at all. It seemed forever before her toes touched bottom and she tried to push up to the surface again.