She was rubbing over her slim freckled body. Her hand was unconsciously creeping toward the more sensitive areas of her body. The door opened with a long creak. Her eyes flicked up to the door and Perceval stood in the doorway. His body seemed frozen to the spot while his eyes caressed her naked body, lingering around at her magnificent curves. Before she could react, he turned a bright red and closed his eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t… Sorry.” He stepped back outside and closed the door.
She smiled. The blush and reaction was kind of sweet. He kind of reminded her of Graham. He’d always been sweet, gentle and a head full of poetry. The Highlands were full of men like Roland. Charmers and boasters who only ever thought of themselves. She heard the flattery that’d pour forth from their mouths about goddesses and stolen breath over a thousand times. She quickly washed down the rest of her body, and threw on a green frock.
Alice opened the door to see if the enigmatic solider was still around and he sat outside just outside.
“Hello.” She sat down next to him.
“Hello. Sorry.” He was still unable to look at her without blushing. She found that so incredibly sweet. She wanted to just reach out and reassure him it was okay. She wondered if he had ever seen a lass naked before or if she was his first. Though the handsome face, incredible body and poetry earlier he must have had a lot of interest and his fair share of girls.
“Don’t worry about.” She’d seen him washing it was only fair really.
“Can we talk now? About your husband?” he asked.
“Go on.” She had to stop running from him sometime. She could try.
“When I was in the army, I was given the task of being a messenger. I used to ferry intelligence and communication between armies and generals. I was on my way back empty-handed from a delivery when I rode into a Jacobite ambush. I was caught and unconscious before I really knew it. I…” He paused, tears were forming in his eyes and he choked over his words. Alice reached out, clasping his hand in hers wanting to comfort him. Give him the strength to talk. He started, jumped at her touched almost snatched his hand away.
“Sorry…” His eyes cleared a little and his hand clasped firmly around hers. He took a deep breath. “I was tortured for information. Whipped, burned and beaten as they asked me questions I had no answer to. I was simply a messenger, I never read what they gave me to carry. Not once. With each fresh whip, cut and burn they’d ask again. Ask what I knew and what my letters contained. The main torturer was a real sadist. He had this strange obsession with my back. Something to do with me running, being a coward. How I wasn’t even trying.” He swallowed.
“I’d seen torture before at several of our camps. Scottish men given over the common soldier under the pretense of information gathering. And that was exactly what it was a pretense – everyone knew that they had anything to say and would eventually just say anything to stop the pain. It was just a way to allow the worst of us to feed our sadistic desires whilst it lessened the rest of us who watched on in silence. Too scared to intervene. I knew what was coming next, it was my eyes, or my fingers. I’d seen it too many times. No matter what I was going to say I was going to die slowly—piece by piece. The sadist reveled in telling me this over and over, but for some reason always looked disappointed. Like he never got what he wanted.” Now the tears were streaming down his face.
“He even came up with this scheme. He got your husband to pretend to let me go, before he could capture me again just to see my hopes wilt. Part of me thinks he did it to hurt him or break him. As he examined my wounds, and asked me why your husband looked wounded. But your husband did the impossible, what no one does, no one has the balls to do. He freed me, and seeing the pain in my back was too much to bare and walk, he even helped me out of the camp. The sadist went crazy accused him of being a traitor, of conspiring with the English. As we rode out from camp I heard the chants of traitor had been taken up by the whole camp, and the peal of gun-fire. A lucky shot took him high in his back. We eventually made it to a small empty church – and we both went inside to die or wait recapture. I think your husband was the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Someone who was willing to risk everything to do what he believed in. I think in the few hours I knew him, he changed the way I perceived the world.” He smiled.
“That was Graham. Pigged head, and as stubborn as a mule. Always saying stuff like the point of suffering for your principles was to see if they were worth having. And once he got going he could almost convince you the grass is blue and the sky is green.” Alice smiled remembering some of the arguments they had.
“I asked him why? I needed to know why. Why had he freed me, and helped me get away. Why he sacrificed himself for an enemy soldier he hadn’t known for more than three minutes. What could drive a man to do that? His answer astounded me. It was you.”
“Me?” Alice asked surprised. “I couldn’t get that lug-head to do anything.” If she could he would never have to war in the first place. She was trying to shut down the mixture of the emotions churning in her stomach.
“He said he wanted to be able to look at you when he got back. That if he didn’t help me that he was afraid you’d never accept the man he’d become. He died talking of you, how he loved you, how beautiful you were, that he wanted you to know that he was sorry and you were right he never should have gone to war. You were his everything, his entire world. He passed talking of you. I lost consciousness a few days after and woke up in a hospital ward at a local church. A priest had found us and began treating my wounds. I owe your husband. I owe him my life. And in a way, I owed it to you. The least I could do was let you know how much he loved you. They may have called him a traitor, but he was the most loyal of us. He didn’t betray himself. He was loyal to a larger ideal, humanity.”
She was proud of the way her husband died. It was the first time she’d ever felt that. Graham had almost become a stigma but Perceval was right. He was the most loyal man there ever was. Although she was incredibly angry too. This Englishman was the reason he was dead and he’d been betrayed by some depraved mentalist at the camp. How was any of this fair? But how could she bare a grudge against someone as noble as him. The only person that had told her that her husband had died a heroic death. He’d traveled half the country to just relay his last wishes and thoughts. Who could hate such a man?
Overwhelmed with emotions she didn’t know how to respond, tears broke out of her eyes. Perceval arms snaked around her and drew her into the warmth of his body. She snuggled against him feeling safe and comforted in a moment of shared grief.
“Thank you,” Alice said through the sobs after she began untangling the knot of emotion that tied her mind. “It means a lot. You don’t know how much it means.”
“It was the least I could do. Besides I was also kind of curious what kind of woman could inspire such greatness.” His thick lips curved into a sweet smile.
“So, what are you going to doing?”
“I don’t know. For so long this uniform was everything I was, and aspired to be but now it seems sullied with blood. I just want to go somewhere free of all the bloodshed. Somewhere I can be the man I want to be.”
“I know what you mean. With the loss, and the ongoing butchery it does feel like Scotland is within its death throes. We are being driven from the highlands. I’ve heard a lot of folk talking about indentured service in the colonies. I’ve been considering myself as there is nothing here for me now. Your welcome to stay here until you’ve decided.”
“None of us should stay here too long. The highlands are being torn apart. America sounds as good as place as any.”
“Do you want to run away together?” she squealed half joking.
“I think I’d move worlds if you asked me. What’s a continent or two?”
She didn’t know where it came from but she found herself pressing her lips against his. The kiss lingered and grew more passionate until his hands were caressing and massaging her body, pulling at her clothes to re
veal her pale, freckled torso. She couldn’t help thinking how like Graham he was. Was she just using him?
Maybe Roland is right, she thought as she reached into his trousers and pried it free, maybe she was a fast worker.
*****
Alice and Perceval discussed their fantasy about starting over long into the night. Even disturbing the sleeping Roland who grumbled something about “keeping their damn fairy tales to a reasonable level.” The fairy tales slowly transformed into plans.
“So, what are your plans?” Perceval snapped angrily at Roland for interrupting again. It was the first time she’d ever seen him angry.
“At the moment, they don’t extend much past surviving. Although the fairy-tale sounds tempting. A new life free of everything. Do you think I could be free again English?” Roland was having one of his sullen turns again.
“I don’t know…” Perceval shrugged.
“I like the thought of staying and fighting for the clan’s survival.”
“Now who’s being the fantasist?” Alice chimed in trying to lighten the mood.
“With you around woman, I think all men.” He said, flipping back into his flattery routine again.
Alice was glad to see Roland was feeling better, physically at least. Although unsteady on his feet he had least found them with minimal pain and had set about devouring everything that he could. She thought they’d have to get some food soon or he’d be devouring them.
“See woman, I told you all I need was a little food.”
“A little? That’d last an army for a month.” Alice found she loved teasing him mercilessly.
“You have no idea how true that is,” he quipped back
Alice sensed that an uneasy tension existed between Roland and Perceval. Even though the two never outright argued there was a tense silence between fraught with complex emotions. Roland was full of guilt every time the two interacted, and in Perceval she sensed a raw angry that he refused to acknowledge. She couldn’t help wondering if Roland was one of the people who’d tortured him. As hard as she tried to picture it, she couldn’t imagine the pretty and charming Roland torture anyone. He seemed too venerable. Despite the tension Alice loved having the two men close by. t almost felt like she belonged somewhere again.
There was a slight tension between her and Perceval, too, from the previous night. Neither of them really discussed what had happened or if it meant anything deeper than it was. They only time they really touched was when a fresh peal of musket fire would ripple through the air. There was an intense silence right after the gun fire. Everyone was scared. Alice would find herself holding both Perceval’s and Roland’s hand, all of them drawing close and holding their breath as they expected the door to open and an army to charge in.
Perceval would always go out and have a scout about ten minutes after the barrage leaving Roland and her alone. It seemed like when he was alone all his bravado faded and she saw the vulnerability he tried so hard to disguise with his bad jokes and flirtations.
“Don’t fret girl,” Roland said during one occurrence.
“It sounds closer.” Alice was on the verge of tears. “They’re coming.”
“It’s just the way they echo throughout these glens. It’s nothing to worry about.” He stroked the wavy tendrils of her red hair. Their eyes locked and he pressed his coarse beard into her face as he kissed her. The village girl in her melted, her long standing fantasy coming true and embraced the kissed, but there was a large part that loathed him. Without him Graham would never have gone to war. And then there was the whole Perceval thing. She pushed him away but it was too late. Perceval stood in the door watching their embrace with none of his usual embarrassment.
He just entered without a word and the tense silence returned. Why didn’t he say anything? What had last night meant to him? Had she disappointment him? If she explained would it make any better?
“They’re getting closer. We should leave and soon. How are you feeling Scotsman?” Perceval broke the silence.
“Strong as an ox. Don’t worry about me. You still going with the fairy tale?”
“At the moment.” Perceval eyes flicked over to her. “We have until Inverness to decide. It’s the logical place to head no matter the plan.”
“Then we need a change of clothes. A blood-stained Scotsman, an English deserter and an illustrious beauty walk into Inverness. It sounds like the start to a tragic joke,” Roland said.
“Some of Graham’s clothes are still in that chest over there. Some are a bit worn and old but they’d stand out less than your uniform.” She still had a favorite shirt in the trunk that she would take out and hug when she’d have a particularly grueling incident in town.
Perceval opened the chest and rummaged through the contents.
“Is there anything that isn’t tartan?”
“Welcome to the clan.” Roland laughed.
*****
As Alice was packing enough water and supplies for the trip, Perceval emerged from behind the screen tugging at the kilt and knee-high socks.
“By Gods lad, I think you would look more comfortable in a dress. Got anything in his size?” Roland laughed, and Perceval’s discomfort grew.
“Leave him alone, I think his legs look rather dashing.” Alice tried to ease his discomfort but made it worse.
“I can’t believe there wasn’t one pair of breeches.” Perceval readjusted his kilt again.
A knock at the door stopped the revelry dead. It was closer to night than it was evening. Who’d be knocking this late let alone at all. She was the town scapegoat. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Open it,” Roland mouthed grabbing his weapons off the bed and squeezing behind the screen with Perceval, who readjusted it to block them from the doors view.
Alice’s heart was thumping in chest as she stepped toward to the door. Her hand closed around the nob and froze in fear. It was times like this she wished she had another way out. There was no way she could crawl out through those tiny little windows. Another knock resounded throughout the cabin and with a deep breath she opens the door. Two English soldiers stood in the door way, and she could see more flashes of red moving beyond them.
“We are conducting a search of these premise.” He barged past Alice and entered the room before she even had time to think.
“Husband?” the officer snapped.
“Dead. I’m a widow, sir.” Alice tried to be as meek as possible.
“Yes. I know what a widow is. Live on your own in this hovel?” His eyes scanned the room sizing up every inch of it. Alice wasn’t sure she liked where this conversation was headed.
“Yes, sir.”
“What is this?” Pointing it the English uniform draped over the screen.
“I was entertaining a fellow a few days. He went to town and never came back sir. Left his stuff here.” She nodded to the musket rifle propped up near the door.
“Do you know aiding a deserter and having a weapon is an offense?” Despite his tone and threat, Alice didn’t sense any hatred in his voice. More indifference.
“I didn’t know he was a deserter, sir. And you’re welcome to the weapon. Please take it, I have no use for it and the ugly thing is cluttering up the place.”
“Ignorance is not an excuse. And it’s his majesty’s property. I don’t need your permission.” He snapped his fingers at his assistant who collected the uniform and rifle.
“My men are in need of entertainment.”
“I’m not sure…”
“It’s not a request. Carter send in Gallaway.” The assistant duck out of the door and brought in a young soldier. “This young man will keep you company until we come back later. Make sure he leaves refreshed.”
The officer marched out into the night.
“Sorry for the intrusion ma’am. So, um, shall we get to it?” He asked walking to the bed. Roland jumped out from behind the screen and smacked him over the head with the butt of his pistol. The soldier grunt flopped down on the be
d, knocked out cold.
“I think it’s past time we left.” Precaval grabbed a bag of supplies.
Roland rushed to the door without saying a word and flung it open. The rough looking guard standing guard outside sprung back in surprise. Roland leveled his pistol and shot the guard in the head before he could react. The shot echoed throughout the glen drawing the soldier’s attention back toward the cabin. Roland darted out into the night at break-neck speed.
“Quick, we’ve got to follow him.” Perceval grabbed Alice’s hand and dragged her out after Roland. “Snakes always know the best rabbit warrens to hide in.”
A round of musket fire exploded into the ground around them sending tufts of ground sailing through the air. Shouts and footsteps followed.
“Just run, don’t look back.” Perceval chased after the distant Roland, his outline slowly began fading into the night as he sped down the side of the valley and splashed into the brook below. Roland shape slowly become more labored, stiff and slower as he hunched over clasping his wound. Perceval and Alice gained on him quickly.
“We’re almost there.” He gasped in pain as they caught up to him.
“Which way?” Perceval asked taking Roland’s arm and wrapping it around himself.
“That way, at the end of the brook. There’s a tiny cave with its entrance hidden behind a tree and a bush.” The sound of the English soldiers splashing through the brook propelled them forward towards the cave.
The entrance to the cave was practically invisible. Perceval had almost missed when he was looking for it. Roland slide sideways down the narrow, followed by Alice. Perceval looked back for pursuers and hoped he’d been fast enough not to be seen as he disappeared into the cave.
*****
THE HEALING HEART Page 22
