by Hannah West
Realizing she had forgotten to tell her new friend about her income she smiled sheepishly. “I own a small fleet of trading ships.”
“You nobles and your coin,” she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Laird Buchanan is letting you do so?”
“I would even if he had forbade me to do so,” Marie said honestly.
“You picked a good man for your husband, Lady Marie. He is not the most cunning when it comes to woman, but I have heard he dotes on you.”
“Marie,” she corrected, “And he won me, I had no choice in the matter. I had been offered up as a prize to the man who won my match. But now I am glad it was he who won. Did you know at first the idea of being wed to him sent me to tears?”
The look on her face said she didn’t.
“Well, aye, it did. I thought Scotsmen were brutal and savage. They are but not so much so in the way I had thought. The Blackadders are the way I imagined all of them being.”
A dark expression fell over Maeve’s face.
“They may be not men, but monsters,” she said in a clipped voice. “My Da was never told how my mother died, just that she had been in pain. The son of the Blackadder chief was the one that killed her. Poor Chloe lived after what they did to her but I bet she wished she were not alive. What they did to her is what they had been to my mother.” She took a shuddering breath. “Ma had heard them coming and had me hide, but there was no room for her to hide with me. They had seen the smoke from the fire. She bled out and there had been nothing I could do.”
Marie wrapped her arms around Maeve and whispered how sorry she was and may the Blackadders rotten in hell.
For the moment the trinkets and treasure lay forgotten at their feet.
Chapter Twenty Three
Maeve and Marie spent their days together teaching each other the things she knew. Marie had even suggested that if Maeve and Duncan needed the extra coin they could sell their surplus of eggs and such at the market before they went unused and bad.
Jack who had stayed behind to watch over her had even taught them how to use knives as a game. It was simple and great fun. All you had to do was hit the wooden board that had been carved as a target. Whoever got the closest to the center won. Jack had always won, but they had great fun.
Having them around dulled the ache in her chest and sometimes she forgot, but when the night came and she found herself alone it felt like there was a dagger plunged into her chest.
Not even a sennights had passed yet and she craved Ian to come back to her. Marie tried to tell herself that it was silly of her, because his being gone mattered not, but her reasoning was hallow. She missed Ian and hoped for his safe return soon.
The next morning Maeve needed to return to her home to take care of the animals, so Marie enlisted Jack to travel with them to Duncan’s homestead.
The trip there was uneventful, but Marie was still stunned by the beauty of her new homeland. Even as summer’s end waned it was still lush and green between the hills to the mountain tops. The late summer blooms of flowers beckoned for attention.
Closing her eyes she took in a deep breath, “It is so beautiful here,” she breathed out.
“If you say so,” Maeve said with a shrug, “It is as it always has been. Surely England is pretty?”
Marie laughed, “It is always damp, grey and rocky. Most of what I have seen of it is flat as well. Norway, were I was born was more like England and while was had some mountains they were so worn with age they should be called hills.”
Maeve made a face. “In that case, I think I shall stay home.” She dismounted her horse and led him to the watering trough.
Marie followed suit and set to helping Maeve.
“You do not have to help,” her friend reminded her as they picked out the eggs.
“Nay, but I do enjoy it,” Marie said with a grin.
After that was done she invited them into the cottage while she tidied up a bit.
Marie noticed Jack had been acting rather odd of late, but even more so now that they had entered the small space of the cottage. Jack noticed how close they were and shuffled away from her scowling.
Marie frowned and was about to say something when Maeve said she needed to go back outside for something.
“I shall be right back,” she said rushing out the door.
“What has gotten into her,” Marie asked as the door slammed making her jump.
In the next moment Marie was attacked.
“Urg-hgh!” she cried as a pair of hard lips captured hers and she was pressed against a wall. She tried to push her assailant away, but he didn’t budge. With panic filling her, she did something drastic.
She bit his lip, hard and tasted blood.
He let her go with a growl and she followed her instinct to run. So she ran for the door and burst outside, she could hear him come after her and she knew she wouldn’t have time to mount her horse before he caught her. So she kept running even when she made it to the forest . She fled as if the hounds of hell were chasing her heels.
It was foolish of her to run, but her mind had drawn a blank, her rational mind set gone. She had been on edge ever since Blackadders had come and Ian had left and she had just slipped over.
“Lady Marie,” echoed Jack’s booming voice, calling for her return.
She didn’t hear it over the roaring in her ears and the pounding in her chest.
…
She wasn’t sure how long she had been running but as she looked around her nothing seemed familiar.
Why had Jack attacked her like that? He knew she was wed. Ian would skin him alive. She had treated him like a brother, like she did Brock. So why, her mind screamed.
She gave a sharp cry of pain as her foot caught a root and twisted. She fell hard to the ground and tears welled, pooling in her eyes. She clinched her fingers into fists, grabbing dirt to distract her from the fresh pain.
A sob escaped her. She couldn’t run anymore.
Bushes rustled nearby and looked up hoping to see Maeve, but the dirty unshaved face of a man started back at her instead.
A chill shot down her spine.
She was quick in getting to her feet, but the man snatched her by the hair and yanked back hard.
“What a pretty thing you are,” the man said in a wet tone, “We will enjoy you. A nasty laugh followed.
He threw her to the ground, her face hitting a sharp rock. She felt blood flow from above one eye before the sting of open flesh.
“Oi, lads!” called the nasty bugger. “I found us somethin’.”
When they saw her the new group of men gave crows of excitement.
Her blood went ice cold when she looked up through her blood matted hair to see two of the men that had been with the Blackadder chief.
As they came closer Marie screamed as long and as loud as she could before someone kicked her in the side of the head, striking her temple.
“Shut up, ye stupid bitch!” one of them growled.
Something snapped in her neck from the blow and her vision started to dim as her body slowly started to numb in her fingers and toes.
She felt herself lifted up but she could not fight back, she was too weak and limp in the man’s arms. But she felt their hands roam over her body. She started to cry as she realized what they were going to do to her.
“I’m so sorry, Ian,” she whispered to herself as tears fell.
“Wait,” one of them cried, “I know her! She is the Buchanan Laird’s wife. The chief will want her, we can’t touch her. We have to take her with us back to him. He will be most pleased with us.”
The men grumbled but they were more scared of their mad chief then they wanted to rape her.
One crouched down to look at her and he gave her a nasty smile, lank dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. “My father is going to enjoy you, bitch. He told me about you. You will beg for him to slit that milky white throat.”
“Kill me,” she begged them quietly before her world tilted and w
ent dark. The last thing she heard was their sick, twisted laughter echoing in her ears.
Chapter Twenty Four
Brock had been out seeing to a few things when he noticed Duncan’s daughter and Jack returned alone together with an extra horse. Something about that struck him as wrong about that as it was near dark. Also had not his sister-in-law Lady Marie not been attached at the hip to Maeve? So why was she not with the odd pair?
He caught up with Duncan’s daughter to ask her as he knew Jack would not answer. But when she dismounted he saw her face was pale, but her expression was equal parts stricken and angry.
“What happened,” Brock asked his tone harder than he had meant it to be.
“We lost Marie,” she wailed. “I tried to follow her, but someone must have taken her because all that was left behind was some blood and this,” she said holding up a dirty scrap of cloth.
Under the grime and mud he made out three colors in a striped pattern.
His jaw set in anger. She had found a piece of a Blackadder’s tartan and if they had taken Marie she had already suffered a fate worse than death. He was sure she would have already begged them for it.
“Assemble the men,” he snapped at a guilty looking Jack. “We need to head out as soon as may be.”
He looked to Maeve, “Find a man to send word to Ian. He must be informed.”
Brock growled in frustration when neither moved. “Go, we are losing time! We must hurry, before it is too late.” He looked into Maeve’s eyes, “You know what they will do to her. What they might have already done, lass.”
Those words jolted her into action. Jack followed suit after Brock gave him a rough shove.
“Move,” he ordered. Usually he would be worried about the other man’s reaction, but at the moment his mind was set on saving, the saints help him, his new sister. The one person who welcomed him without prejudices and judgements.
He prayed she survived.
…
Voices floated around her in a pain spiked fog of confusion. Her head was being split in two and Marie was unsure of where she was. When she opened her eyes the intense light shoved another spike into her brain, but her vision was blurry and she could only make out shifting blobs of color.
“What are all of you doing, lazing around,” snapped cruel voice.
Suddenly the other voices stopped.
“We brought you a little something back from our raid on Buchanan lands, Father,” one of the men crowed.
“Really, and what is that,” asked the first man in a bored flat tone, “Another flea bitten cur?”
“Nay, we bring you the laird’s wife,” he said gleefully, “caught her running through the forest.”
“Hmm, indeed,” rumbled his voice near her face. “Let’s have a closer look.
She knew that voice. That disgusting, skin crawling voice of the Blackadder chief.
Her face was lifted roughly and his ugly face swam into view. His rancid breath coated her face and she gagged.
Affronted Blackadder spat on her and slapped her face, sending her sprawling back to the stone floor, quietly crying, face stinging from the blow.
Marie curled up into a ball to protect herself from any other blows.
“Stupid bitch,” he spat at her. “Lock her in the pit and let her stew there. Soon she will beg to grace my bed instead of laying in the muck. Much like the pigs you said you would rather bed with.”
She was picked up by her arms and dragged down a flight of wooden stairs. She heard the opening of a trap door and was floating for a brief moment before she slammed into cold, hard, unforgiving ground.
The breath was taken from her and she struggled to breathe as the light from above suddenly went dark.
“No,” she tried to scream, “nay please! Do not leave me in the dark!”
All the came out was a wheezing breath as tears slid from her eyes. She squeezed them shut. She was terrified of being alone in the dark.
A sound came from one of the dark corners.
Mayhap she had not been left alone in this hell.
Chapter Twenty Five
The warrior that had been sent off with two other men finally arrived that the meeting location for the clans and king after two days of hard riding.
Without waiting a moment more he left himself into the Royal tent where Malcolm King of Scots was addressing his lords. He dropped to one knee and begged pardon.
“Please forgive me, but I bring grave news for Laird Buchanan, sire,” the man said in between breaths.
Ian gained to his feet and came around the table to the man. “What is so important that you interrupt this meeting?” he asked irritated.
“Forgive me,” the man said once more, “but I have news of your wife.” He looked into Ian’s eyes.
Ian read the panic in them, the distress.
“Your wife has been taken. The Blackadders kidnapped her a few days ago. Brock sent me to inform you as he plans to get her back. He request you come back right away, they will need the help and we do not have enough men with the other half here,” he said grimly.
The color had drained from Ian’s face at the name Blackadder and the icy hand of fear wrapped its cold fingers around his heart and squeezed.
They had taken her and if she had already been in their clutches for a few days then she had already suffered a fate he would not wish on anyone. Who knew what they had done to her.
Swift fury mounting he turned back to his king and longtime friend and bowed stiffly. “I must request an absence. I shall return after my wife has been recovered.”
King Malcolm who looked faintly surprised waved him on. “Why of course. She must be recovered, Ian. We shall still be here and if not I shall call another for the matter.” He smiled slightly, “I do not think I have ever seen you so frantic.”
Grimly he answered, “I never would have been if she had not won me, my king. I am truly sorry to leave at such a time, but if I did not go, I would never forgive myself.”
“Then be about it, I have a few things of my own too decided about those Blackadders. They refused to come at my call and are mounting more trouble than they can handle. They have already lost their lands and I have heard the tales of their theft of another’s lands and the rapes as well as the murders,” Malcolm said his look darkening. “They need to be punished.”
Suddenly an idea lit his eyes. “Why do I not accompany and any laird here who wishes to come as well. Mayhap it is best to rid ourselves of them now.”
Surprised by the offer Ian stood shocked, but soon others were standing with them, wanting to join forces. A few clans who had never liked the Buchanans offered as well.
It would seem an army was coming with him to help him save his face and rid the Blackadders from the surrounding lands.
…
There was no sense of time in this dark void of a pit where she had been cast. She could see nothing in the black before her except when they opened the trap door to piss into the darkness, trying to hit her.
She had heard them make a bet on who could hit her first. That is how she found out the other person down here was her had died. The first time they had done this she fled screaming to the farthest corner back and was greeted by the half rotted corpse of her fellow prisoner.
At the least it had been days since she was tossed in and she was starving, chilled to the bone and so filthy she could no longer tell she was. Dizzy with little sleep and weak from hunger she was ready to beg to be let out. She could no longer smell the cesspit she currently sat in. soon they would open the door and she would scream to be let out. She shuddered to think the deal she would have to make with Blackadder to be released. When the trap door started to squeak open Marie screamed at them, “Please let me out of here! Tell Blackadder he has won, I shall do as he says. Please!”
Rude snickering of the bastards above carried down to her just before warm liquid came raining down.
She chocked in fury, “Tell that bastard I want out of this h
ell!”
Snide laughter floated down at her. “We will let him know,” one said before the door slammed shut.
Marie crumpled to the ground in a sobbing heap as her chest heaved for the foul air that surrounded her.
~
Blackadder sat at his table enjoying his food at his leisure when some of the younger men who normally were with his son, came to stand before him.
“What do you want,” he barked.
One gave him a grizzly grin. “Your new pet said she wants to make a deal, to get out of the pit.”
The interested him. Sitting up straighter he asked, “Oh, is that so?”
The man nodded dislodging a lank strand of oily black hair into his face. “Oh, aye. And I have an idea of what we can do with the wench.”
Madness glinted in Blackadder’s eyes as he stood, drawing closer to the pair. “Aye, and what is that?”
The silent one spoke up next. “We can all have a tup at the wench, and then when she can’t take no more we toss her back into the pit. She’s a purtty one, why let her waste?”
In the blink of an eye Blackadder had his sword thrust into the man’s belly. A thick oozing red river ran down the blade to the hilt and then to his hands excited him.
“Doona ever suggest I share what is mine with the likes of you,” he said in a deadly tone giving the sword a cruel twist, “or with anyone. That Buchanan bitch is mine alone.”
He watched as the agonizing pain in the man’s eyes turned glossy before he shoved the man off his blade.
The body fell to the ground with a sickening thud blood still pooling, then he turned to the last man.
“Bring the wench up and have her bathed in the kitchens. I’ve a mind to sample her and don’t want her smelling like the cesspit. Lock her in my chambers before I get there. That Buchanan wench needs to learn some manners,” Blackadder said pleasantly as he stepped over the body on the floor.
