by Diana Knight
She was running. She was escaping something, but could not clearly see behind her. She passed a woman with arrows in her chest and red wild hair. The woman was shouting to her, begging her to stop and help her. Yet Lena couldn’t, she was running away from something. Or was she running towards something. She saw her parents, they were clinging tightly too each other as they shouted for her to help. She watched them fall into the fire, but she still did not stop running. Down the path she’d been following she saw a limp body on the road. When she finally reached it she saw the garments of Sir Crab, but he was lying on his stomach looking as if he was suffocating. Lena pushed him over, when she finally saw his face she let out a ear piercing scream. The face was not of Sir Crab, but of Marren. His eyes were no longer full of love and lust, but of white and death. His lips were no longer red and soft to touch her skin, but now they were dry and cracked with blood dripping from the sides. Marren was dead, and when she held his head in her lap she saw what she was running from. She was no longer afraid.
“Lena!” Her head was shaking violently as she opened her eyes.
Marren was standing there with his lips parted and his eyes wide. Lena felt her mouth was dry and achy, as if sound had just left her throat without her knowing. To see Marren’s eyes full of life made her suddenly sob uncontrollably against him. She had only begun to know this kind of love, she was not ready at all to lose it.
14
Chapter Fourteen
The morning was blocked by a thick cloud of ash colored smoke. The English were running out of wood to burn, and soon they would be using the living to keep the flames alive. Marren brought his lips to Lena’s as he kissed her. Her cheeks were wet from the tears but each kiss was still as valuable as the last.
“I will see you Lena. Stay hidden, stay out of sight.” Marren said giving her one last kiss, he felt his chest pull towards her. As if he wished he could pull her inside of him and keep her locked in his heart forever. Yet that could not be done, not with Lena.
“If you see my family, please-” Lena tried to speak but Marren stopped her with his lips.
“Do not build up your fears like this. What is done is done, but I will do what I can to bring them home to you.” Marren kissed her on the forehead softly, Lena leaned into his lips.
As they parted Marren could feel his legs want to stop and turn back. It would be so simple right now to just escape and run away. The two of them were free, they could hurry back to Silver Port and cower together under the blankets. Yet his men would be arriving soon, and if he could learn more about the enemy he had too. For his men, for his clan, for his brothers. The smoke could most likely be seen from Silver Port now, it was as wide as a ship and as dark as the evening. Their army would be able to see it from the sea it was clear. Marren huddled down as he approached the opening of the trees. He walked around it to get the best view in the city, nothing but blood-stained grass stood where the young woman was just hours ago. They are hiding the bodies? What are they doing? Marren bit his lip as he snuck around the trees, when he finally reached the entrance of Colreed, he could see the faint hint of dust on the path. They will be here soon. My men. My brothers. Rollen would be bringing them right to the gate as planned, and they would surround the village and clear out the English. Marren heard a struggle coming from inside one of the huts, he turned his head the grief struck him right in the chest. Lord Macleod was bloodied and bruised, his legs had been broken and the English were dragging him around like a victory trophy.
“Wait’ll they see this.” An Englishman said gleefully.
Marren gripped the hilt of his sword as he watched. His grip tightening as the men took turns throwing their fists at Macleod. Marren winced as one sent him to the ground, yet Lord Macleod simply lifted himself back up. As if he was ready for more.
“I’ll say one thing bout you Scots’ you have got enough strength that’s for sure.” A man said before he sent his fist down.
“STOP IT!” A woman cried, Lena’s mother ran from a hut and wrapped her arms around him.
Just then Marren unsheathed his sword as he heard someone breathing behind him. He brought the blade close, he should have known she would never stay. His sword fell from his hand as he saw she had witnessed the entire thing. He shielded her eyes with his body.
“You don’t need to see this.” He whispered. Though consoling could only last so long.
The sound of the Walsh clan horn echoed down the road Marren looked up to see the line of horses coming up from over the hill. The English turned their rage from Lord Macleod towards the gathered men in front of them. Don’t ride out Rollen. There is no greeting them. Marren pinched his eyes as he saw Rollen was coming down to meet the English. It was an old custom of war that they would offer the English the chance to surrender. A few men on the English side found their own horses and strode out. Marren finally got a chance to see his enemy, and it was more than he expected. Edward Grayhan. The man who tortured them and made them nothing but English slaves. It should have been known that he was the one ruthless enough to sneak and find a way onto the island. Just kill him Rollen. Marrren silently begged as him and Lena now watched the greeting unfold.
“I was expecting a different Lord Walsh.” Sir Grayhan was shouting.
Just kill him Rollen, kill him now. He was within distance of an archers bow. It would be easy. Rollen just had too.
“So you did it?” Sir Grayhan asked.
“No, but he will be here soon. Do you have what you promised.” Rollen dismounted his horse and walked unarmed towards Sir Grayahan. Marren felt his heart freeze still and his body start to tremble. No. No. Please.
“Aye, but you promised you’d take care of them. Will they fight for us?” Sir Grayhan said giving Rollen a parchment in his hand.
“Aye, if you make them.” Rollen said unraveling the parchment and putting it in his boot.
Marren’s chest was seizing, he did not realize he had not been breathing. He gasped in a breath of air and felt Lena press herself against him. Her comfort was small but welcome, however it would not stop the war that was then going to be fought. The English had tricks that were far and many, Marren should have seen the eagerness and signs from Rollen. He was never a leader, he was always a follower. If he was given the choice of Land and right verses brotherhood he would have sent them to their deaths far sooner. Now Marren had to convince his men not to fight, but not only that, he had to convince them now to kill one of their sworn brothers. Marren turned to pull Lena back into hiding, but when he reached his hand out he caught thin air. When he turned back to see where she went he saw her crawling her way towards the closest hut. Where her mother and sister had just emerged. Marren had just lost his closest cousin, he was not about to lose his wife alongside it.
Lena could feel the dry dust come up to her nose as she crawled with her stomach dragging on the ground. Her hands were shaking with each pull towards the hut, but her body would not stop. She could not stop. The tears stung at her eyes, thinking of how badly she wished to just be in Marren’s arms and escape, to be selfish and hide inside his warmth while her family and friends were killed. That would not be her, it never would be. Twigs and sharps stones dug into her bare skin and palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear in her stomach. It was a suffocating feeling in her abdomen, as if something was trying to pull her insides out from her back. Like a rope was tied to Marren and every inch she pulled away from him the rope would tighten around her waist and pull her back. The edge of the hut was growing closer, each shout or voice from the other side sent prickles across her arms, all someone had to do was look around the small home and see her lying in the brown and green grass. She turned her head to look back and see Marren, she knew what his eyes would say and that he would be begging for her to come back. Her head turned back towards the bushes and searched for his eyes, yet she never found them. Where did he go? Her ears listened to see if he’d been captured. No. He is finding his men. Part of her broke at the th
ought, but the other strengthened. Scotsmen, real Scotsmen would find a way to turn this problem into dust. Marren was finding his men to end this, and to save her. He was beginning to know her more, he knew he could not stop her and she was thankful that he did not even try. The sound of a man shouting in pain echoed around her. It stopped her heart for a moment and she dug her fingers into the dirt to distract her. Her hands grazed the thin wood on the hut as the screaming surrendered, she could hear the fireplace crackling inside and the faint whimpers of a child. Maria, my sweet sister. She would be celebrating her eighth year when winter arrived, but there would most likely be no celebrating.
Lena pulled at the twigs by the small opening, slowly peeking her head inside to see if there were guards inside with them. A twig snapped loud unintentionally and a shiver rippled up her back when she heard the whimpering and whispers stop. A few shuffled footsteps echoed and Lena knew she should have lifted herself off the ground and ran away, but her body could not move. She was going to get caught, she was tired of the stress and the fear. Even her body agreed as it stayed open against the small hole in the hut. The footsteps were just beside her head and she closed her eyes in surrender.
“Lena?” The small voice was enough to shatter her heart.
The adrenaline began pounding through her and Maria, Lena, and her mother dug her through the small hole until she was fully inside. Lena cried as her mother squeezed her tightly, the smell of the hut made her head spin. The spices cooking over the fire, the small rooms with rock walls and the dancing firelight of the spit against the wooden log rocks. She used to play here as a child, and now this home will be full of nothing but nightmares.
“Why are you here! What are you doing?” Her mother did not give her a chance to enjoy the moment, as her mothers dark green eyes were stricken wide with both fear and anger.
“I- I came to get you out of here. Marren is coming-” Her mother stiffened at the sound of his name.
“They are against us, they are with the English Lena, I thought. I thought you were already dead.” Her mother embraced her again, almost suffocating her with the thick red hair across her shoulder.
Lena pulled back slightly, her forehead wrinkled in confusion, “Marren is not with them.” She tried to tell her but her mother was less than believing.
“The Walsh men were the ones who showed them the path on from the sea onto the island, they let the men here. They betrayed us Lena.”
Maria began whimpering louder at the sound of her mother’s exasperated voice. Lena pulled back completely and was now holding her own mother in her arms. Her and her sister were covered in dirt and dry blood, who’s blood was no longer important but Lena tried to keep them calm. Lena knew Marren had no part in this, she could see the pain in his eyes as he discovered Rollen’s part. Marren would never do this to her family, to his family, to her.
“Marren is with us. The English do not have him. We have to trust him.” Lena swallowed. If this were to have happened less than a year ago she would have surely followed her mothers thinking. Yet she stood there now feeling no shred of doubt that Marren is going to come for them. Her love for him was too strong now, and if by some chance he truly was against them she knew her heart would still love him.
The sound of voices growing louder stopped their tearful reunion. Lena and her mother hid her under a small darkened corner of the hut behind old barrels and wool scraps. Lena could see through the wool covering, but hopefully they could not see her. The Englishman walked in with broad shoulders and white speckled hair. His chin was covered with a small patch of hair that looked newly trimmed and clean. His body jingled the sound of war, the chain links across his arms and chest rang loudly as he walked around the hut suspiciously. Maria clung tightly against her mother and hid her face in her mothers dirt stained dress. Lena could only hold her breath and hope she could breath soon. Yet the air disappeared in her lungs when the Englishman walked over to the small patch of sunlight coming in through a larger hole in the hut. He kicked his foot at it and unwielded his sword. It was spattered in what looked like fresh blood, pointing it at her mother. Then he laughs.
“You were trying to escape? Pity, that would have made your deaths easier.” He whistled as he finished speaking and two more Englishmen came walking into the hut with a third.
Lena could barely contain herself when she saw Rollens Walsh colored kilt against the shining chains of English. It would burn in her mind forever.
“Go around to the outside and fix the hole shut.” The man with the sword extended commanded.
The two Englishmen nodded and left the hut quickly, while Rollen stood there eyeing the hole in the hut a little longer.
“My Lord Grayhan, if I may.” Rollen bowed his head sending a nauseous feeling into Lena.
Lord Grayhan nodded in agreement and stepped back away from the hole. Lena watched to see Rollen walking towards the hole and kicking up dirt as he moved. He bent down into a squatting position, she was so close she could hear his knees pop in weight as he knelt down. What is he doing? She swallowed hard and tried to keep frozen still. Suddenly, his eyes looked up and darted around the room. First to Maria and her mother, then to all the corners of the house.
“The dirt.” Rollen said as he lifted a burning log from the fire spit.
“They don’t show someone getting out, the tracks show someone coming in.”
The tightness in her stomach squeezed. Her eyes almost rolling into the back of her head as she bit her lip to keep quiet. Maria, the innocent child cried loud enough to confirm Rollen’s suspicion. It was only a matter of time before they found her now. Marren, please come save us. Please come save me. Lena could only pray over and over again as she saw Rollen’s hand extend towards the wool covering hiding her head.
15
Chapter Fifteen
He could see her feet finally slide inside the hut. He know fate would be left up to her now, and that if he could he was going to save her. The courage she shows for her family is something he will always envy, but instead of cowering he can try to do the same. No matter how much his fear controls him. It was not fear to fight, nor fear to kill. It was the fear that he would be turning his back towards his men while his wife was now inside enemy territory. Thoughts were running through his mind that made his feet move towards his men. He thought about the life him and Lena might someday have, after all of this is over. If she would provide children for him, and be with him during the new world they would someday have that was free of the English. The thoughts were real and ripe but they were blocked by the pain of Rollen, and knowing he would not be there to have those things. He would not even live until tomorrow if he stood in the way of him and Lena. The brush was thick enough he could turn around and be to his men within the hour. Their small frames on the hill were walking around the freshly smoking campfires as they attempted to wait for their leaders orders. Marren had to get there before Rollen, that would be his only way to win. He was just about to leave, and if he would have known then what was about to happen he would have lifted his legs and run out of there without a second look. Yet the moment he heard the sound of a man screaming in pain he turned to look. There was William Macleod, the tall burly built man with a beard as thick as his shoulders. The English had tied ropes around each leg and each arm, then attached those ropes to four horses that pulled in opposite directions. Macleod was a strong man, but not every man could withstand the pain of being drawn. Marren had watched one to many of his men withstand that on the mainland, but Marren did not shield his eyes. This was only adding fuel to the coursing rage inside him. He could only watch as Lord Grayhan stopped the horses and lifted the brute Macleod up into the stocks. Marren had watched this dozens of time with his own men, he could only hope Lena was not watching. She would not want to see what happens next. Lord Grayhan unwielded his sword and lifted it high in the air. Marren mouthed the question he knew the Englishman would ask Macloed.
“Do you surrender and will yourself to fi
ght for the English?” Marren mouthed.
Lord Macleod was a true Scotsman, and passionate follow of Sir William Wallace. There would be no shred of doubt in what he would say, and although Marren was too far away to hear his answer. The swipe down of the sword was enough. Marren’s eyes uncontrollably closed as he saw the head drop to the ground. He turned his back and did not open them again, he had no time. With Lord Macleod dead they would go back into the hut for the women, and Marren was not going to give them a chance. He picked up his feet and ran his with all his strength towards his men.
