“Ye must dae, Elaine, she will nae march them much further, she cannae dae so. We will break to camp soon, surely, and then we shall find some way to escape. Tis’ our only chance,” Finlay whispered.
“And if we dae escape? What then?” she asked.
Finlay only shook his head, just as the woman called out for them to march on. Elaine now summoned all her strength, determined to remain strong despite the weakness she felt. If it were not for Finlay, then she would surely have long ago given up all hope, but with him, she felt a renewed sense of hope, as though in the end, all would be well even if they were forced to suffer hardship before it was.
“Move along there, move along,” the woman called out, and they were jostled forward, the men taking up the pace as the mysterious woman rode on ahead.
“I should like to see myself avenged upon her,” Elaine said, as she struggled to keep pace.
“Bide yer time, she will make a mistake, and then we shall be ready,” Finlay replied, and Elaine could only hope that he was right.
Chapter Twelve
They marched on for several hours in the heat of the afternoon sun, and Finlay grew increasingly concerned for Elaine, whose pace was continually slowing. At several moments he thought she was close to collapse, but she seemed to possess some inner strength that rallied and drew renewed hope within her such that she was able to continue.
The shadows were lengthening upon the moorlands when at last, the woman called a halt close to the edge of woodlands, which stretched up onto the mountainside above them. Here, a stream gushed down over the rocks, and a large pool had formed, a bridge built over a ford by some unknown hand.
“We will make camp here tonight, tis’ still a half-day march from this place tomorrow,” the woman said, calling out to the men and issuing orders all around her.
Finlay and Elaine were told to wait by the pool, and Finlay was glad that finally they had been allowed to rest. Elaine was quiet, exhaustion setting in, and Finlay asked the woman for a cup so that she might drink from the water.
“I hope she is not usually so easily exhausted,” the woman replied, tossing him a cup and shaking her head.
“She is not usually so poorly treated,” Finlay replied, and the woman laughed.
“She is yer lover, is she?” she asked, and Finlay blushed.
He did not know what Elaine was, more than a friend, more than a confidant. She had come to Kilchurn as his father’s wife, but the sorry events of the past months had cast all that aside and allowed Finlay’s own feelings to grow, as hard as he had tried to resist them.
But he had no wish to allow this woman to make assumptions about him, nor to hold an advantage over him in such matters. He would not give her cause to blackmail him or use Elaine against him, and so he merely shrugged his shoulders and turned away, unwilling to give her the benefit of satisfaction in the matter.
“Here, Elaine, ye must drink the water. See, tis’ cool and refreshin’ for ye,” he said, scooping the cup into the pool and handing it to her.
He could feel the woman watching him, but he made no move to return her gaze, looking instead around him at the campsite and wondering if there would be any possibility of escape.
The men had begun to erect simple tents around the pool, the waterfall gushing over the rocks above and the woodlands stretching out on either side of the path thereabouts. Finlay could see little of what lay beyond the bridge, but he reasoned there must be some settlement near at hand, for the stream could be forded easily enough, and only the presence of a village would necessitate such a construction.
But whether any person thereabouts was friend or foe was a question that would remain unanswered. Finlay knew nothing of the land through which they were passing, nor of its people. He had ridden north occasionally with his father, but, in his youth, these lands had been lawless and treacherous, a fact which it seemed was being proved true by their experience at the hands of these cruel people.
“I feel a little better,” Elaine said, and Finlay smiled at her.
Despite her fatigue and the forlorn state in which she found herself, there was still such beauty in her as to quite take his breath away. His feelings for her were only growing stronger by the day, and he was surprised by the force of his affections toward her.
“I am glad, ye must rest, but I shall try to find a way for us to escape,” Finlay whispered.
“I can see nay way that we shall dae so. Surely they shall set a guard upon us,” Elaine said, taking another drink of water.
“That they will, but ye have seen these men. They are nae soldiers, only bandits, ill-trained and ill-disciplined. They answer only to money and nae to loyalty. That is their weakness,” Finlay replied.
He continued to watch as the camp was set up and a fire kindled at the edge of the pool. A simple meal was soon prepared and shared among the men, the woman sitting apart to eat, looking out across the moorlands. Finlay was fascinated by her, wondering just who she was and why she had acted as she had.
It was surely a matter of money, and he wondered again who it was who had paid her and how handsomely they had done so. If Kilchurn had fallen, then it could surely only be some old enemy of the MacCallums, or perhaps a fresh enemy has risen out of the chaos of the bloodshed now ravishing Scotland to its core. Were the MacDonalds behind it, and would he and Elaine soon be delivered into their hands?
“Ye shall rest over here under guard,” the woman said, pointing to a canvas strung up between two rocks close to the edge of the pool.
Dusk had fallen now, the moon beginning its rise into the sky and the first stars appearing up above. In any other place, it might have been beautiful, the moorlands turning a deep shade of heather in the setting sun but held captive and with little hope of escape Finlay’s thoughts were far from such things.
“She cannae march much further tomorrow,” Finlay said, as he and Elaine were led to where they would spend the night close to where the fire now burned low and the last of the evening meal was being distributed.
“Tis’ nae much further, and then she shall rest all she wishes, I am sure, a long rest,” the woman replied, smiling and beginning to laugh.
“And then ye shall have yer payment, I suppose,” Finlay replied, and the woman nodded.
“I shall have my reward,” she said, turning away from them.
Finlay sighed, helping Elaine with her blanket and unrolling the one he was given next to hers. In any other circumstance, he might have felt embarrassed to be sleeping so close to her, but it hardly seemed of concern now. It was his duty to protect her, and he felt ashamed that he had failed to do so thus far. There seemed no hope of escape, for they were well guarded, and Finlay knew nothing of the terrain around them, nor of the direction they must take if there were to be any hope of evading capture.
The two of them lay down next to one another, the fire burning low and the last of its embers providing a little warmth against the cool of the summer evening. Elaine was quiet and brooding, as though she were contemplating what might become of them given the woman’s veiled threats and taunts. How Finlay wished he could rise up and strike their captors, but without a sword or weapon, he would soon perish in any attempt.
Only stealth and cunning would help them, but Finlay could see no means of escape. The woman had assigned several of her men to guard them, and, crude as their weapons were and ill-trained as they seemed, they would still be a fair match for Finlay without his own trusty sword. He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy which hung over them.
“I am glad that ye are here with me, Finlay,” Elain whispered, and Finlay nodded, reaching out his hand and finding that of Elaine in the darkness.
“And I am glad ye are here too,” he whispered, “we shall get through this together, I promise ye.”
Sleep was a long time in coming, and Finlay lay awake until he was certain that Elaine had fallen asleep at his side. He wanted to comfort her and reassure her, but his words seemed holl
ow and without basis given their predicament. What could he do but repeat his promise to protect her, and even that meant nothing given the uncertainty they faced.
Finlay watched as the guards settled down for the night. The woman had disappeared, no doubt making her own camp away from the men. They had talked among themselves, speculating upon when they would be paid and discussing what they would do with their money. It was evident they were nothing more than hired hands, loyal only to whoever would pay their price.
“Three more days, that is what she said,” one of them said, and the others nodded in agreement.
“Aye, and then we shall have reached the time she promised. We have seen nay money yet,” another said.
“It will come; she has been true to her word so far,” another replied.
Finlay smiled to himself, the only true loyalty was that of blood, and he knew that his clan was still loyal to him, even if Kilchurn had fallen. He would still have friends among the Highland clans, and those friends believed in far more than money. This would be the woman’s weakness, and Finlay was determined to find a way to exploit it.
He had just rolled over, knowing that if he did not sleep, then he would never make the march the next day, when a movement to his right caused him to pause. It was dark now, the silvery light of the moon all that gave illumination to the campsite and moorlands all around. Finlay lay still, his eyes open, watching again for the movement which came from the opposite side of where the guards were sitting.
There it was again, a flitting in the trees, like a figure moving quietly and wishing to conceal itself. Was it just one of the guards making the last patrol before they settled down for the night or a stranger watching and waiting to strike? But now, one of the guards had noticed something too, and he had stood up, pacing past where Finlay lay and staring into the trees.
“What is it, McGrant?” one of the men called out.
“I daenae know, somethin’ in the trees over here just caught my eye,” he said, and the other guard came to join him.
“Tis’ nothin’ but the breeze in the trees. See how it blow up from the south there now that the evenin’ is coolin’ a little,” he said.
“Aye, ye are probably right,” he said, but, as he spoke, an arrow whistled through the air and struck him dead.
The other guard let out a cry, just as a volley of further arrows flew from all sides, plunging the sleeping camp into chaos and confusion. Finlay shook Elaine awake, and she sat up with a start.
“Quickly, stay low, the camp is under attack, tis’ our chance now to escape,” he cried, taking her by the hand.
Elaine soon came to her senses and followed Finlay as he crawled from beneath the makeshift tent and out into the open. There were shouts from all around, and it seemed that the entire camp had been surrounded by whatever hidden enemy was at large. Finlay could not help but smile to himself at seeing how the bandits ran in panic all around, unable to muster themselves to leadership or action.
“Who is it that attacks them?” Elaine whispered as they hid behind a rock by the pool.
“I daenae know, whoever built this bridge. But they daenae know that we are nae one of them too. They must have seen us make camp earlier on. These moorlands are wild, and tis’ each man who must seek his own survival here. The villagers nearby, a small clan or other bandits perhaps. These people may be nay friend to us either, but they have given us our chance. Come now, we must cross the bridge,” Finlay said, and he took hold of Elaine’s hand and hurried her toward the ford where the wooden bridge crossed over the stream.
They had almost reached it when a cry to their left caused Finlay to turn, just as one of the bandits launched himself toward them, brandishing his sword above his head. Finlay leaped to the side, pulling Elaine with him, and narrowly missing the sword which clattered against the rocks. Finlay struck out at the man, sending him reeling to the side, and before he could retaliate, Finlay fell upon him, wrenching his sword from him and striking a fatal blow.
With sword in hand, Finlay pulled Elaine to her feet and hurried her toward the bridge. They were in sight of freedom, the rest of the camp in an uproar, the bandits scattering in all directions. They had been taken entirely by surprise, and glancing back, Finlay could see their assailants advancing on all sides. The light of the moon was enough to see that it was a group of well-armed villagers who had come upon them by surprise. They had set fire to several of the tents and were looting the supplies in a manner that suggested that this was not the first time they had taken unwary travelers by surprise.
“Finlay, look out,” Elain cried, and Finlay turned to see their captor, the mysterious woman, rushing at them with her sword drawn and a murderous look upon her face.
“Ye shall nae escape that easily,” she cried, but at that moment, it seemed as though some force of spirit came over Elaine, who darted forward, taking the woman entirely by surprise.
She fell upon her, unleashing all her anger, as the woman cried out in alarm.
“Elaine, nay, she shall strike ye,” Finlay cried out, rushing forward to assist.
But it was clear that Elaine’s anger was driving her onward, and the woman, taken entirely by surprise, was no match for her. The two of them fought together on the ground, rolling back and forth, but Elaine soon had the upper hand, forcing the woman’s weapon from her hand before sending her sprawling into the pool below with a great splash.
“Quickly, we should take her horse. We can get away far more easily on a steed,” Elaine cried out, pointing toward the woman’s horse, which was tethered with saddlebags close by.
Finlay wasted no time, and he pulled Elaine to her feet, hurrying her toward the horse, which they both mounted, Finlay, untethering it as he leaped into the saddle. The horse reared and whinnied, it had been frightened by the noise of battle all around, and now it charged forward into the stream, galloping through the water, and scattering the bandits this was and that.
In a flash, they were away, charging off along the track and into the trees. Finlay did not look back but only urged the horse forward, feeling Elaine’s arms around him, holding on for dear life. On they rode, until the sounds of battle were faint upon the night air. Only then did Finlay slow their pace, reining in the horse so that they might catch their breath. Elaine was breathing heavily, and Finlay’s heart was beating fast beneath his tunic. What next and where were they? He looked around for some sign, but only trees surrounded them, the dark and foreboding forest stretching out on every side.
“I think we are safe now,” Finlay said, trying to sound more certain than he felt.
“Dae ye think they will come after us?” Elaine asked, and Finlay shook his head.
“Tis’ only the woman who cared for her payment, the men cared only for themselves and looked to her to pay them. Tis’ she who will find herself with a friend, now that the birds have flown,” Final said, smiling to himself.
“And what will become of her then?” Elaine asked.
“Something unpleasant, I hope,” Finlay replied, and he began to laugh, “ye showed the courage of Laird’s daughter back there, quite somethin’ ye were.”
Elaine laughed and shook her head.
“She is a wicked woman and got only what she deserved,” she replied.
“I am sure these people lie in wait for travelers along the road at all times of the year,” Finlay said.
“But who are they?” Elaine said, looking fearfully around them.
“Villagers, people eager to make a little money. Tis’ either brave or foolhardy. I am surprised that nay Laird has put a stop to their ways. If this were my land, I would have done so,” Finlay replied.
“But whose land is it?” Elaine asked, and as she did so, her question was answered by a rustling in the trees and the appearance of a dozen men, armed and menacing.
“The chief, mistress, that is who. Now, what would ye two be doing fleein’ from the fight?” a tall, scraggy man with a long beard asked.
Finlay curs
ed himself for once again being taken by surprise, his sword no match for the group who now surrounded them.
“We were captives of those people, ye helped us to escape, and for that we are grateful. Now, let us be on our way. We mean nay harm in this place, and we have nay wish to involve ourselves in yer affairs,” Finlay said, taking hold of Elaine’s hand as the two of them were pulled from the horse’s back.
“Ye daenae simply pass through our territory as though this were the open road. The chief will wish to speak to ye,” the man said, and a murmur of agreement went up from the others.
“Who is yer chief?” Finlay said, unwilling to reveal his own identity just yet, lest it be used against him.
“The chief in these parts is Fraser McGuire, and any person who passes this way is obliged to call upon him, tis’ only polite,” the man said, and this time the others began to laugh.
Highlander’s Forbidden Desire: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 14
