by Barbara Bard
Another swig. “I understand.”
“Then ye dinnae wish tae confess anything tae me. Anything at all.”
Gavina looked her sister in the eye and took a long moment to answer. “Naw,” she said. “There is nae a thing tae confess…”
Isla sat back, knowing that her sister was lying but responding well: “Alright,” as they say back and shared their drinks in silence.
“Light the fire,” Sir Jessup said.
Sir Renly lit the bundle of wood they had set up on the outskirts of the castle.
“Throw him on,” Sir Jessup said.
Sir Renly took Marcus’ body, hauled it up, and tossed it onto the roaring fire. The body was immediately consumed by the flames.
They shared the silence for a moment as they watched the body burn. Eventually, Sir Renly spoke up and said, “It won’t be long until Marcus’ men discover that he has perished.”
Sir Jessup shrugged. “Then we will make up a story.”
Sir Renly sighed. “This is bad, Jonathan. We only have so long before the others get wise to what is occurring.”
Sir Jessup turned and faced his friend. “And what exactly is occurring? I dispatched of an assassin who attempted to kill me.”
“An assassin sent by the king himself. How long will you have before someone seeks answers about this?”
“I will figure it out.”
“This is not good, Jonathan. My friend…” Sir Renly found himself flustered and struggling to find the proper words. “We are headed straight down a path I fear we will not be able to return from. Even after disposing of Marcus, their will just be someone else who comes in and takes up the torch for him.”
Sir Jessup shrugged. “Then we will deal with them when the time comes.”
Sir Renly stepped toward his friend. “And how long can that go on? Do you plan on killing everyone that the king sends? Do you plan on killing all of those knights currently inside of the castle that represent Marcus? How do you know they won’t come after you next?”
Sir Jessup didn’t know how to answer for a moment. When he did, he shrugged, and said: “If I must kill them, then I will kill them.”
Sir Renly sighed. “Jonathan—”
“The mission has not changed,” Sir Jessup said. “We are here to find the Bairds and dispose of them, and that is what we will do. Once we have completed the tasks that have been given to us, all the rest of the collateral damage will be forgiven.”
“And what certainty are you basing that off of?”
Sir Jessup looked his friend square in the eye. “We do not have any other choice, my friend. But if this is too much to stomach for you, if you wish to leave, I will not stop you.” He then left as Marcus’ body became fully submerged in the flames, crackling and becoming nothing more than ash as he walked back to the castle.
Sir Renly, fearful of the future, knew that his friend was on the brink of losing a grip on his sanity. But he would not leave him. He was his closest confidant. A brother. He followed his friend back to the castle—loyal until the very end.
Chapter 25
“Well,” Isla said to Finlay inside of their home. “What dae ye want tae dae?”
Finlay was stroking the stubble on his chin. He had been thinking long and hard for the past several hours of what to do. “We still need tae ken the location of Glenn,” he said. “And Ava can be easily secured. We just need tae send a rider tae fetch her.”
“But what of Sir Jessup? Lord Torstein?”
He sighed. “I fear Sir Jessup will soon descend on our village. My instincts tell me this tae be true.”
Isla nodded, unsettled by the fact that she agreed with her husband’s intuition. “Aye,” she said. “I believe this tae be so, as well.”
Finlay stood. “We maist speak with Christian. We maist ken all that he kens about Glenn and the location of Lord Torstein and the castle.”
“What then?”
Finlay shook his head and took his time to answer. “This man is a risk, Isla. Ever since he arrived, he has brought nothing but turmoil.”
“Gavina vouches for him.”
“Then she is misled. It is clear that the two of them hae struck up some kind of relationship. Ye ken her better than I do, and even I ken that ye can see this tae be true.”
Isla tilted her head—Aye, it is true… “So,” she said to her husband. “What is it that ye plan on doing with him once ye get the information we seek?”
Finlay looked at his wife—Dae I really need tae say it aloud?
“Say it, me love,” Isla said.
He took another moment. “He maist be disposed of.”
“And ye dinnae think that is a rash decision?”
“Are ye really questioning this?”
Isla held up her hands. “We should speak with him first,” she said. “I dinnae want tae jump tae a conclusion that will lead us tae a decision that we may soon regret.”
Finlay sighed. Rubbed his temples. “Then we shall question him,” he said. “But I feel confident in the decisions that I am proposing.”
Isla cast a glance outside of the window next to her. “Gavina might protest.”
Finlay shrugged. “She can protest all she desires. But this has tae be done.”
“I only worry that our fears are perhaps leading us tae make rash decisions.”
“This is nae rash, me love. This is a preventative measure tae make sure than naw further turmoil is brought tae our people. I will question this man. I will look him in the eyes and decide what I shall dae. And if I believe he needs tae be disposed of—I will be the one who will dae it.”
They then left their home and headed for the stable, Christian still seated on the floor and standing as Isla and Finlay entered.
“Christian,” Finlay greeted.
Christian nodded in reply.
“I need tae ken,” Finlay said, “aboot the location of yer castle, of where our man Glenn is being held.”
“I can show ye. Happily.”
Finlay then produced the map of the surrounding area that he snagged from the table by in his cottage. He opened it, Christian then pointing to a specific location on the map.
“I cannot say how many men are currently there,” Christian said. “But I do know that they far outnumber your entire clan.”
“Thank you for the information,” Finlay said as he put away the map.
A pause. “Are you going to let me go?”
Finlay crossed his arms. “I struggle with knowing where your loyalties lay.”
Christian shrugged. “Certainly not with my people.”
“Why do you help us?”
“I told you before—I wish to bring peace.”
“Yet, since your arrival, we have experienced nothing but a resurgence in conflict.”
“It is not my intention.”
“Yet that is what has played out…”
Christian sighed. “I have told you the truth. I wish to bring no harm. I only wished to help you and your clan.”
Finlay waited, debating. He wanted to free this man, but his gut told him that if he did so, he would be running the risk of allowing more bad things to befall him and the clan. He didn’t want to kill Christian—but something told him he had to.
Finlay stepped toward the cell, exhaling deeply as he looked Christian in the eye. “I am sorry, me frien…”
Christian hung his head, oddly at peace with his fate once Finlay had all but said it. “So that is all,” he said. “You will kill me…”
“I dinnae want tae.”
“You do not have to.”
“I just cannot risk what yer presence here might end up entailing.”
Christian felt depleted. “I understand,” he said, taking his time to speak every word. “I just ask that you do it quickly.”
A nod from Finlay. “Aye. I will give ye that much.”
Christian looked up. “I also request that you be the one who does it.”
Another nod. “Aye. I will.
But this is not personal, Christian. I merely—”
Christian held up his hand. “You have said enough. Just prepare the necessary. I do not wish to prolong this any longer than need be.”
Finlay nodded. “So be it.” He turned to the door. “Lachlan.”
Lachlan entered looking just as dismayed as Christian did. “Aye?”
Finlay nodded to Christian. “Take him out of the cell and bring him tae the courtyard. I will then inform all the villagers tae congregate there.”
Finlay then left with Isla in tow, solemn and feeling his heart weighing down inside his chest. Lachlan, opening the cell door before taking Christian by his arm, said: “I am sorry, frien.”
The entirety of the clan was gathered in a circle in the center of the village. Christian was on his knees, his hands behind his back and Lachlan standing guard behind him. Gavina was in the rear, standing beside Isla. Her heart was beating frantically, her mind struggling to speak up and say what she knew to be true.
An eerie silence set over the scene as Finlay approached Christian. The faces of all those in attendance were focused on him as he came up behind Christian and stood there for the longest of moments.
Finlay cleared his throat. “This man,” he said. “Is a Sassenach knight. I bring him before all of ye today because a decision has been reached about his fate.
“I want it ken that this man is nae an enemy. He has nae killed any member of our clan or attempted tae bring instability tae our village. It is only after much thinking and debating that I hae come tae the decision that his presence here will prove a risk tae the people of our clan.
“I say these things because I want there tae be naw confusion with why this man is gonnae be put tae death. It is nae withoot a heavy heart that this act will be carried oot.”
Gavina felt her nerves on edge. She squeezed her hands, trying to stave them off from shaking with fear.
Finlay faced Christian. “Christian,” he said.
Christian turned his head up, his eyes saturated with fear, though he held his composure. “Yes,” he said.
“Dae ye wish tae say anything?”
Christian did, though he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wished to say. So many things were running through his mind, but he went with his gut and looked at each villager square in the eyes and said: “I am sorry for all that my people have done to you. It is not right. It is not fair. I only hope that you can forgive me for my part in their actions. I hope that my death will serve as an example to them all. I hope that it will end up counting for something.”
Gavina and him then locked eyes. Christian couldn’t help himself from saying the rest.
“And to you,” he said. “I hope that you heeded my words…” And with that, he spoke no further, hanging his head and closing his eyes tight.
Finlay nodded, drew a breath, took out his sword, and rested it on Christian’s neck. One quick swipe and it would all soon be over.
Gavina felt her nerves on edge as Finlay prepared to strike. She felt the need to speak up, her mouth opening as Finlay raised the sword high above his head and prepared to bring it down on the back of Christian’s neck.
Gavina drew a breath.
Finlay prepared to strike.
She shouted out at the top of her lungs: “Stop!” and making Finlay abort the execution two inches away from him following it through.
Finlay lowered his sword and turned to Gavina. “Ye hae something tae say?”
She took a step forward. “Dinnae,” she said. “Dinnae dae this.”
“Gavina—
“I maist protest.”
“There is nae a thing—”
“I love him.”
Finlay lowered his sword as the villagers began to stare on and whisper in each other’s ears. Gavina hung her head once she realized the truth had finally gotten out, and her and Christian stared each other in the eye for a long moment before Finlay ordered Lachlan to return him to his cell.
Marcus the knight’s men were feverishly searching the castle for Marcus. It had been several hours since Sir Jessup and Sir Renly had burned him not far away from the grounds.
Standing in the courtyard, watching the men scramble to-and-fro and calling out Marcus’ name, Sir Renly turned to Sir Jessup and said: “This is what I was talking about.”
“Let it go,” Sir Jessup said.
“Let it go? They are about to find out what we have done.”
“What I have done. I take full responsibility for my actions.”
Sir Renly shook his head. “It will be a mutiny once they find out…”
Sir Jessup looked at Marcus’ men as they became increasingly frustrated in their plight to find their master. He knew Sir Renly was right—it was only a matter of time before they figured it out. So, taking a step forward on the balcony where he and Sir Renly were standing, he looked down, cleared his throat, and said: “Gentlemen!”
The knights all stared up and waited for Sir Jessup to say the rest.
“Your friend Marcus is dead,” Sir Jessup said. “He attempted to assassinate me in my quarters, so I do not feel the slightest bit remorseful for my actions.” He began to pace. “I am sure that this dismays you, and that you are perhaps entertaining the idea of retribution, but please keep in mind that my men outnumber you greatly.”
Marcus’ men looked around and saw twenty-some-odd knights circling around them. Slowly. All eight of Marcus’ men appearing dwarfed by the overwhelming numbers.
“Here is my proposal,” Sir Jessup continued. “You can lay down your arms, join us, and never speak of Marcus again, or, you can attempt to fight your way to me to seek vengeance for your master and suffer terrible deaths as a result. The choice is yours.”
Sir Jessup’s knight circled closer. Marcus’ men took their time as they thought through their options. After a moment, they withdrew their weapons, held them out, and dropped them on the ground. They then held their hands up in surrender and got down on their knees to show their contrition.
“Very good,” Sir Jessup said before addressing his men. “Now, take them to the cells. I want them there to make sure no last-minute attempts at retaliation are taken.”
Sir Jessup’s men obliged as Sir Jessup let out a relieved sigh.
Sir Renly looked at his friend, amused that Sir Jessup’s speech had served to their advantage.
Sir Jessup, shrugging, walked away and said: “That was not such a chore now, was it?” as he pat his friend on the back.
Chapter 26
Lord Torstein and Eirlys were on the top floor of an inn that looked down at the harbor of a seaside town on the coast. The mist of the Highlands added an uncertain gray veneer that looked like smoke on the water as Eirlys set about packing her bags and Lord Torstein cut his hair over a bowl to drastically alter his appearance.
“When does the boat leave?” Eirlys inquired.
“Two hours,” Lord Torstein said, nearly finished with trimming his hair.
Eirlys felt her nerves on edge. She knew that they needed to proceed forward, but something was holding her back. “When we get tae England,” she said, “what will happen next?”
“I have a friend there. His name is Damon Bond. He is not of royalty, but he holds an influence in political circles. He is a good confidant. He will assist us in figuring out our new lives. I have already sent word to him that we are coming.”
Eirlys stared out the window and at the grey clouds hanging above the Highlands. She felt torn, knowing that a new life potentially awaited her, but still feeling an urge to stay behind and help her countrymen defend themselves.
“What will happen to this clan ye speak of?” Eirlys said. “The Bairds.”
Lord Torstein quit trimming his hair and sighed. “I do not know. I imagine…” He sighed again. “I imagine that they will be forced from their lands.”
Eirlys shook her head. “This is nae right.”
“I know.”
She turned and faced him. “I cannae fat
hom a dire fate awaiting them.”
He turned and faced her. “Do you not wish to go?”
A beat. “I dae. But I dinnae think I could live with myself if we dinnae try tae dae something tae warn them.”
Lord Torstein rubbed his temples. He had been experiencing the same thoughts, though he was doing his best to ignore them. “I know,” he said. “It is not an easy thing to think.”
