“These woods are wild and unforgiving, tis’ nae known who even has the rights over them. Are they MacCallum or MacDonald land?” Murdoch said, slashing through brambles with his sword and tearing his tunic as it snagged upon a thorn.
“They are the home of peasants, outlaws, those who would wish to hide and remain undiscovered,” Finlay said, pulling at his horse’s reins as the animal refused to walk forward.
“And we have little choice but to pass through them,” Murdoch said, cursing again, as he caught his hand upon a bramble and drew blood.
They continued in this fashion for much of the day, making slow but steady progress through the trees until, at last, they came to the river and some shallows where they could cross.
“Be on yer guard,” Finlay said, looking around him lest anyone else should be seeking to cross the river at that point.
But the banks on both sides were deserted, and they sent several scouts ahead, beginning to cross in single file, riding on the horse’s backs, their saddlebags hoisted up out of the water.
“I have never known a lonelier place,” Elaine said as they came to the other side, and she looked back at the far shore.
“We would come here at times to camp when I was a child. My father taught me to hunt in these woods, and I once caught a salmon this big in the river here,” Finlay said, opening his arms wide and recalling with pride the moment he had pulled the fish from the water some way further upstream.
“And how far are we from Kilchurn?” she asked, and Finlay thought for a moment.
“Still a day or so and on foot several days. But we are nae expected, and we shall have the element of surprise to our advantage. Come on, keep going, lass, we shall break camp soon,” Finlay said, and he beckoned her on through the trees, following Murdoch and the other soldiers.
The afternoon began to draw in, thunder clouds gathering overhead and drops of rain beginning to fall. They would soon be wet through, and it was decided to find a place to rest for the night, the hope of kindling a fire foremost in Finlay’s mind.
But as they came through the trees, he raised his hand and called for quiet. In the distance, rising from the canopy, he could see a plume of smoke. It was a fire, but whether made in camp or coming from the chimney of a croft or cottage, he could not tell.
Cautiously, they made their way forward, creeping through the trees until they came to a clearing where the sound of voices could be heard, and the flames of a fire could be seen through the trees. There was the smell of cooking, meat roasting on a spit, and Finlay turned to Murdoch in surprise.
“Who are these people? Trouble?” he whispered, and Murdoch nodded.
“I have nay doubt of it, Laird. We would be wise to avoid anyone in the forest,” Murdoch said.
“But I must know who these people are,” Finlay replied, and without waiting for Murdoch to respond, he crept forward, keeping low and hiding among the thick trees and brambles.
As he came closer to the clearing, he could hear more clearly the voices, and he caught sight of several figures milling around the campfire. Two guards were posted on the perimeter, and to his horror, Finlay recognized them as part of the group of bandits that had taken him and Elaine, the bandits led by Maggie McClean, who was sat close to the campfire warming her hands.
Finlay edged closer, crawling along the forest floor until he was just yards away from the clearing and could see everything clearly. There, at its center, was the campfire, and around it sat half a dozen men and Maggie McClean. She was issuing orders, and the meat was being carved up, passed around the men who began to make their meal of it. But another sight caught Finlay’s eyes, three men, bound and gagged to one side of the clearing. Their hands and feet were tied, and two guards stood to watch over them, making a band of ten in total with those others who were guarding the camp.
Finlay could not make out who the captives were, no doubt some poor souls who had been bought or cruelly snatched away from their homes. It made him angry to think that this woman should so blatantly continue her wicked ways unchecked, for clearly, she had not been punished by his uncle for her failure to see Finlay and Elaine dead.
“Tis’ Maggie McClean,” Finlay whispered when he returned to the others, and Elaine looked terrified.
“With her bandits?” she asked, and Finlay nodded.
“Aye, but far less of them now, lass. I counted only ten of them. But they have prisoners too, three men, bound and gagged. We must dae somethin’ to rescue them,” he said.
“To rescue them? What can we dae?” Murdoch said, and Finlay glanced over his shoulder.
“We can come upon them by surprise. We outnumber them, and if we fall upon them, they will nae have a chance. These could be MacDonald men for all ye know, but whoever they are, I will nae leave them at the mercy of that wicked woman. Nay doubt they are takin’ them to some accursed place or other where they daenae stand a chance of survival. Nay, we must help them,” Finlay said, drawing his sword.
“Then at least wait until darkness has fully fallen,” Murdoch said, staying Finlay’s arm and signaling to the other men to make ready.
Finlay agreed, and they lay hiding in the trees as the shadows lengthened, and the sounds of song and storytelling could be heard from the camp. But Finlay’s anger was aroused, and he could think of nothing else but freeing the unfortunate men who had found themselves at the mercy of Maggie McClean and her men.
“Tis’ time now,” he whispered as they caught the first sight of the moon rising in the sky above the trees.
“What is our plan? We cannae take all of them hostage. We are still many miles from Kilchurn and can hardly bind them and take them with us,” Murdoch replied.
“Then we shall scatter them into the forest and see to it that the men they have captured are freed. We will fall upon them by surprise, and before they know what is happenin’, we shall be away into the trees,” Finlay whispered, rising from his place and beckoning them forward.
“What of me?” Elaine asked, catching Finlay by the arm.
“Circle around the camp, and we shall meet ye on the other side,” he said, but she shook her head.
“I want to fight,” she replied, drawing out a dagger which Callum had given her as a parting gift when they left the MacDonald castle.
“Then stay close and be on yer guard. There is to be nay delay. We take them by surprise and rescue the prisoners, then disappear into the forest,” Finlay said, his voice low and hushed, as he beckoned Murdoch and his men forward toward the clearing.
The fire was burning low, and several of the men had disappeared beneath crudely constructed shelters, the sounds of snoring echoing through the trees. Guards were stationed, but in the darkness, they would barely be able to see a few yards in front of themselves, and Finlay knew they had the element of surprise.
He could see Maggie McClean still sat by the fire, her sword at her side and the prisoners bound together on the far side of the clearing. It would be a simple enough task to free them, and Finlay raised his sword, ready to bring it down in signal of the attack. He paused for a moment, thinking back to the cruel way this wicked woman and her men had treated him and Elaine.
He wondered what price his uncle had paid her to do his dirty work, and it sent a shudder running through him to think of such betrayal. For his own uncle to do such a thing was unimaginable, and Finlay thanked God that he was so very different from the man who now called himself head of the clan. Summoning all his anger and courage, he brought down the sword and, with a roar, charged into the clearing.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elaine was caught up in the charge, pulled along by Murdoch’s men, who now emerged into the clearing, taking the bandits completely by surprise. Several of them were fast asleep, roused by the sounds of their fellows sounding the alarm.
Swords clashed against swords, and Elaine followed Finlay toward the prisoners, drawing her dagger and rushing to cut the cords which bound their hands and feet. They were as surp
rised as their captors by the rescue now being enacted and cried out in thanksgiving for their safe deliverance.
“Who are ye?” one of them said, as Elaine pulled him to his feet.
“A friend, that is who. Now, run,” she said, urging him to flee into the trees.
She had just cut the cords of the second man when a roar behind her caused her to look up, one of the bandits rushing toward her with his sword held high. Around them, chaos ensued, as Murdoch’s man, well-armed and hardy in battle, clashed with the bandits.
“Look out, Elaine,” Finlay cried and fell upon the man, driving his sword into him and causing him to fall with a cry of anguished pain.
“There, now, run,” Elaine said, cutting the cords of the other men and urging them into the forest, “ye are safe now.”
She stood up, ready to run after them, the attack over almost as soon as it had begun, but, as she did so, she felt a blow to her side, and she winced, turning to find Maggie McClean lunging out of the darkness.
“Ye wicked creature,” Maggie cried out, falling upon Elaine, the two of them wrestling one another upon the ground.
“Tis’ ye who are the wicked creature, let go of me and save yerself, tis’ all ye have left,” Elaine cried out as they rolled together in the clearing.
Maggie McClean had hold of Elaine’s hair, and she pulled at her, sending the woman reeling to the side. But in an instant, she was upon her, striking her across the cheek, the battle still raging around them.
“Ye shall pay dearly for this, Elaine McRob, ye and yer father, ye are nothin’ but a little wench,” Maggie cried out, striking Elaine across the face.
“Better a wench than a wicked woman like ye,” Elaine said, as the two of them struggled.
“Ye couldnae wait to take Finlay for yerself, could ye. But I could have had him for myself,” Maggie snarled, scrabbling to push Elaine off her.
“For yerself? Nay man would be so foolish,” Elaine cried, as Maggie pushed her to the side.
. But Elaine still had much pluck and fight in her, and, as Maggie brought down her hand, she pulled her dagger from its sheath and plunged it into her side.
A scream went up around the clearing, high pitched and penetrating, and Maggie fell backward, collapsing onto the ground, the dagger still impaled in her side. Elaine picked herself up, staggering backward, just as Finlay caught her by the arm.
“Elaine, come, we must make all haste,” he cried, pulling the dagger from Maggie’s side before ushering Elaine into the trees, as the other soldiers followed behind.
It seemed that with the death of their mistress, the bandits had scattered, those that had not been killed in the attack now disappearing into hiding. Elaine could not believe what had just happened, and she marveled at her own courage and strength, having never fought in such a way before.
“Did I … oh, what …” she said as Finlay urged her along with him.
“Ye did, lass, she is dead, and there are many who would thank ye for that,” he said, as Elaine turned to him in horror.
“I … I didnae mean to kill her, but …” she began, and Finlay laughed.
“She would have killed ye, I promise ye of that,” he said, as they paused for breath.
Overhead, an owl hooted, and Elaine startled, clutching at Finlay, who now put his arms around her.
“But we saved those poor men,” she said, and Finlay nodded, kissing her gently on the forehead and holding her close.
“Aye, and those three would have been shown little mercy. Whoever they were tis’ clear that they were to be delivered to some dreadful fate, sold perhaps, or kidnapped for ransom. We cannae shed a tear for Maggie McClean, for there is nay a more wicked woman in all of Scotland. Well, thanks to ye, she is gone, and her unpleasant works are at an end,” Finlay said, just as Murdoch came hurrying over to them.
“We should regroup outside of the forest. We have come to its edge, quickly now, tis’ nay place to linger, even with the enemy defeated,” he said, and Finlay took Elaine by the hand and hurried her onwards.
After what seemed an age, though it could not have been more than a few minutes, they came in sight of the edge of the forest. Elaine could see the moonlight on the moorlands, and she breathed a sigh of relief as they emerged from the trees, the other soldiers now surrounding them.
“Where did the prisoners go?” Finlay asked, and Murdoch shrugged his shoulders.
“They ran off into the trees. I cannae say I blame them. We may have been tryin’ to take them captive ourselves for all they knew. Tis’ nae unheard of for bandits to steal prisoners from other outlaws, to trade them or hold them to ransom. Tis’ precisely what I would have done,” he said, cleaning his sword on the grass.
“And how many of the bandits were killed? Nae all of them,” Finlay said, and Murdoch shook his head.
“Seven of them, or so I believe, is that right, lads?” he said, and the others nodded.
“Then several are unaccounted for. We must be on our guard,” Finlay said.
“If they have sense, then they too will have disappeared. But the hero in all of this is the mistress,” he said, bowing to Elaine, who blushed and turned away.
She had still not yet come to terms with what she had done, the thought of killing another person, however wicked they might have been, filling her with a sense of foreboding.
“I daenae want to think about it,” she said, sitting down on a rock and putting her head in her hands.
“Ye have done many a great service and avenged countless others. There is nay judgment to be had. She would have killed ye if ye had nae killed her,” Murdoch said, and Finlay nodded.
“Ye see, Elaine, that is what I told ye too,” he said, and Elaine looked up and sighed.
“Aye, perhaps, but it does nae make me feel any better,” she replied, her hands still shaking, her heart beating fast in her chest as the thoughts of what had just occurred continued to fill her mind.
“Come now, tis’ nearly dawn, and we must rest. We shall make camp here by this stream, and then we shall march on after restin’ a while. We have earned it well enough,” Murdoch said, and he pointed to the banks of a stream that ran across the moorlands.
Elaine was grateful for the chance to rest, and she followed the others to the edge of the water, cupping her hands into the icy water and splashing it on her face. The sensation revived her, and she turned to find Finlay watching her, a smile on his face.
“I am proud of ye, Elaine, ye proved yerself the true daughter of a Laird this day,” he replied, and she came to stand at his side, slipping her hand into his and resting her head upon his shoulder.
“I didnae think I would feel like this,” she said, and he kissed her again on the forehead.
“The first time anyone is forced to kill is a time of much reflection, but ye were brave, and ye did those men a great service, Elain. Daenae lose sight of that,” he said, “come now, we shall lie and rest a while, we still have a considerable journey ahead of us,” and he led her to where Murdoch and his men had set up camp, a small fire burning in a hollow by a solitary tree.
“Will a fire nae attract attention?” Finlay asked, and Murdoch shook his head.
“We need the warmth, tis’ a chill night, and the dawn will still be cool. Besides, we have a clear vantage point from here. I daenae think anyone will trouble us this night,” he said, glancing around him.
Finlay nodded, and he led Elaine to a place close to the fire where they could sleep.
“The ground will be hard, but ye shall lean on me, like this,” he said, sitting down and resting back against a large rock, beckoning her to lie across his lap.
She yawned, settling herself down and closing her eyes. She felt his hand gently upon her hair, and he ran it along her shoulder and down her arm, resting over her and wrapping his cloak around them both.
“Tomorrow, Kilchurn,” she said sleepily.
“Aye, and then we shall see what fate has in store for us,” he replied, as Elaine dr
ifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
When she awoke, the sun was on her face, a bird singing in the tree above, its song echoing all around the clearing in which they had made camp. There was a chill in the breeze, the first signs of autumn approaching, and Elaine sat up, pulling Finlay’s cloak around her, as he began to stir.
“Wake up,” she whispered, shaking him gently awake.
“The hardness of the stone replaces dreams of a comfortable bed at Kilchurn,” he said, stretching out and yawning.
“Perhaps soon it will not be so much a dream as the truth,” she replied, rising and rubbing her eyes.
Highlander’s Forbidden Desire: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 23
