by Fiona Faris
Kyle made his way towards the grounds marked out for the games. In addition to lodgings, there was someone he needed to find. His best hope for finding both was to make it to the heart of the gathering. Kyle could see the greens in the distance. He was ready to break from the packed road into open pasture.
“Watch it, wench!”
Kyle’s path was blocked when a woman fell back in front of him. He watched her face crease in pain, her arms scraping against the rough stones beneath her as she caught herself on her elbows. Rolls fell around her, speckling the mud with their light brown crusts.
The warrior’s eyes took in the scene. A thick man with a dark red face barreled out from the shadows approaching her in a hurry. He could see the poor serving woman’s eyes widen with fear. She tried to back up in the mud, further soiling her gown as she scrambled away.
“Ye think ye can jus’ waste all this food an’ get away without a scrape?” The man towered over her.
The wiser man would have stepped away, not wanting to risk discovery. No part in Kyle’s brain alarmed him of the risks. Before he could think of the consequences, he was between the scared woman and her employer.
Kyle stood between the two, staring the man down. He knew this type of man. He would not have hesitated to batter the woman, no matter how many people bore witness. He was the kind of man who felt powerful preying on the weak—in Kyle’s eyes, a coward. All his life, he’d stood against men such as this. They were an intolerable blight on mankind.
“Get outta my way, boy, ye’ve got no part in this!” The man shook with his anger. A crooked vein throbbed in his neck, dark and purple with rage.
Kyle looked down at the woman for a brief moment. It pained him to see her afraid and helpless. Her eyes darted between the two in fear. She hurried to her feet, trying her best to pick up the soggy bread melting into the mud beneath her.
“I can’t do that,” Kyle said.
“I’m warnin’ ye, boy! This ain’t yer fight. This is between me an’ my,” he jabbed one of his sausage fingers into his chest, “charges.”
“I’m not standin’ back an’ watchin’ ye beat that woman.” Kyle stood his ground.
The woman stepped back from them, terrified and speechless. The man raised his fist. Kyle squared off his stance, preparing for the blow. Before anything happened, a voice cut through.
“Angus!”
Kyle was blinded as his vision blurred with a wild flame of hair. He took a half step back as a woman at least a foot shorter than him intercepted the argument. The man’s fist shook before falling to his side, still clenched and trembling.
“Get outta me way, Neilina!”
“How dare ye talk to me like that,” she stiffened. “Ye have no right, jus’ like ye have no right hittin’ my charges—nae yers, Angus, mine,” Neilina commanded.
Kyle looked at her in awe, still gasping at what had just taken place. She stood up to the man, her eyes fierce and cold as ice. Kyle watched as Angus blubbered, the steam seeming to rise from his skin as if Neilina had poured water on the fire burning in him.
“That wench los’ me my mornin’s work with her clumsiness!”
“I don’t care how much she lost ye. I won’t stand fer violence in me household. D’ya understand me, Angus?” She looked the man hard in the eyes. “Or do I need tae bring ma faither into this, huh?”
Kyle felt invisible, eclipsed by this woman’s strength and poise. He pulled his hood up and stepped back, hoping to slip away before any more onlookers gathered around the scene. He gave the serving woman a brief nod. She mouthed the words, “thank you,” before Kyle continued on towards the Highland Game grounds.
“Wait!” called Neilina’s voice from behind him.
Kyle stopped for a moment before deciding it was not wise. He pretended not to hear her and continued forward, hoping she would let him go, but never quickening his pace. There was no such luck. Within moments, her quick step caught up with him. He could hear her panting for breath.
“Wait,” she said.
Kyle obeyed. He did not turn around, still uncertain what he should do. Neilina stepped in front of him and looked up at him with her bright, intelligent eyes. She was a beauty to behold, with prominent cheekbones, fair skin kissed by a light blush, and a wild mane of red curls contrasting with her blue eyes.
“Thank ye fer what ye did back there,” she said.
He could see the earnestness in her gaze as she regarded him. “It was no trouble, m’lady.”
“Aye,” she nodded, her curls bouncing on the breeze. Both hands braced her hips. “But t’were. Ye picked a fight with Angus. Ye must be mad!” She smiled, and Kyle felt his stomach tighten at the sight of her white teeth between her perfect formed lips.
Kyle did not have a smile to return. There were too many other things clouding his mind to find pleasure. He gave her a courteous nod and tried to continue. She did not let him go. Her footsteps squished in the mud alongside him.
“Yer nae from around here,” she said.
“Aye.”
“Ye come fer the games, then?” Neilina asked.
Kyle eyed her, trying to assess her angle. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Not tae participate, if that’s what yer askin’.”
Neilina nodded, chewing on this a minute, trying to find another way to connect with the mysterious warrior. She nodded in understanding before meeting his eyes. “My name is Neilina, daughter o’ the Laird o’ these lands. Will ye walk an’ talk with me a moment?” she finally asked.
Kyle looked around. There were less people in the area, and the ones around were absorbed in their tasks. He looked down at Neilina. From what he knew, she was a lady and an important one at that. There was a risk in talking with her at all. He already made himself more visible than planned. Yet, something in the way he looked at her made him curious and unable to protest. He nodded.
Neilina’s face broke into an ear to ear smile. “What should I call ye?”
Kyle’s tongue froze to the roof of his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was to lie to her. Using his first name, though, was dangerous. There was no telling who she knew or would talk to about the incident with the serving girl. With the pressure of her fixated eyes oppressing him, he blurted out the name that haunted the forefront of his mind.
“Robert.” The name of his best friend.
“Where’re ye from, Robert?”
Kyle sighed and looked down at the soft ground. The rain drizzled in a light mist around them. There were few answers that could hold up to investigation. After a moment, he looked at her again, trying to judge her character and intent.
“I’ve jus’ returned from Rome, an’ have come to look fer work.” He looked around. “The games seemed like a good place tae start.”
Neilina followed his gaze, sweeping over the people and festivities, “Aye,” she agreed. “On pilgrimage?” She looked up at him, eyes brimming with wonder.
Kyle nodded. “Aye.”
Neilina’s eyes regarded him with amazement. Kyle felt vulnerable beneath her gaze and the weight of his lie. It was a good one, but still, he knew the journey was one for the devout. He tried his best to remember the names of the seven churches often visited by people heading to the Pope’s seat in Rome, completing the Via Francigena in search of deliverance from England.
“What an adventure,” she gawked, wagging her curly head. “I’d love tae hear all ‘bout it. What kind o’ work are ye lookin’ for? I’m sure I can help find somethin’ suitable.”
Kyle cleared his throat. “I’m a tutor.” His words seemed to stick to his cheek, and when they came out, they seemed to run into each other in a hurry to get out. “French, Italian—” he coughed, trying to clear the dry tightness closing his throat. Although he could learn just about anything and often labored whenever hands were needed, he was a man of the sword. If he claimed a specific trade, it would not be long until the men who made their livelihoods caught onto his novice skills.
“French!” Neilina started with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to speak French.”
“Nous le voulons toy—” Kyle said dryly.
Neilina opened her mouth to question what the phrase meant before snapping her lips shut abruptly. Her smile faded, and her brow creased with deep thought. Kyle watched as she pulled a red wind-swept curl from her lips. He started to walk forward. She snapped from her reverie and continued after him.
“Have ye found a place tae stay yet?”
“Nay,” he said.
“If ye’ll teach me, I can pay fer yer lodgings an’ a small salary, if,” she grinned mischievously, “I’m satisfied with yer services that is.” Her smile faded into a look of consternation once more. Kyle looked at her and witnessed nervousness wash over her features. “But ye have tae promise me somethin’.” He said nothing, captivated and curious by the beautiful young woman. “I don’t want anyone tae ken. Me father,” she wagged her head, her curls flying around her shoulders, “wouldn’t approve.”
Kyle could not believe his luck—secrecy, lodgings, and a salary. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Aye, I can do that.”
Neilina beamed up at him with excitement, “Are ye busy now?” she asked.
Kyle looked around him. Nowhere did he see his friend—the man he’d stolen the name of. He turned back to Neilina.
“Nay, can’t say that I am.”
“Good,” she smiled, “I ken jus’ the place fer ye.”
A smile threatened to form at the corners of Kyle’s face as he watched her swivel on her heel and start leading the way. He was amused and could not help but follow. She came in out of nowhere like the wind, and now, he found his livelihood tied to her. There was nothing for him to do except see how it all played out.
The young man could not have chosen better lodgings. It took them nearly an hour to walk to the small farm. Neilina handled everything while Kyle waited outside. When she returned, she waved for him to follow and led him to a small croft at the back of the property.
“This is it,” she said. “I hope it’s tae yer satisfaction.”
He could see the way her cheeks tightened with concern as she waited for his judgment. “It’ll suit me jus’ fine.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m glad tae hear that.” She cocked her head to one side, staring at him intently, “Ye don’t much tae say, d’ya?” She smiled as if teasing him.
This time, he could not help but smile in return. Her carefree glee seemed to infect him, lightening the darkness that overcast his light. She met his eyes before looking around her.
“I suppose I should be goin’. There’re,” she paused, “many preparations tae make, an’ I doubt Angus’ll be qualmed long without me presence. May I return tomorrow?”
Kyle nodded. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence before Neilina gave him a nod and turned. Kyle watched as she walked away, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she traipsed over the hill out of sight. The last thing he saw was her fire-red hair glimmering beneath the small rays of sun breaking through the clouds.
As pleasant as Neilina’s encounter was, Kyle was relieved to find himself alone with his thoughts. Making it through the crowds was stressful enough without the stress of knowing his presence was noticed. For the first time since entering MacFarlane lands, Kyle felt like he could breathe.
The croft was small, a single room with a hearth, bed, and a small table tucked into one corner. The rain picked up the moment Kyle stepped foot inside as if the sky was waiting for him to enter before cracking open. To his relief, there was a small amount of kindling still piled next to the fireplace. He could hear the rain pelting the roof, and was relieved to find there were no leaks to worry about. Once the fire was lit, the croft warmed into a cozy hovel for him to hide until he found what he was looking for.
Once changed into dry clothes, Kyle unpacked his small bag. There was not much in there—the clothes on his back, a small portion of stale food, and a journal rolled up into a strip of leather. The windowless croft was dark except for the crackling flames in the hearth and the dying nub of a candlestick.
He traced his fingers over the worn leather protecting the loose-leaf pages of his account. Part of him wondered if there was any point in cataloguing everything. Not even his parents believed he was innocent. As he pondered what to write, Neilina’s smile distracted him.
He never met anyone quite like her, and with her, there came another challenge—maintaining this new identity he’d created in the moment. He never anticipated being interrogated like that, especially immediately upon arriving. He tapped the feathered quill to his chin as he replayed the encounter. Despite how beautiful and kind the woman was, she filled his heart with fear. There was much that could go wrong.
It was true that he spoke French, but only enough. On the morrow, he would be expected to tutor her in the language. He was confident he could keep a beginner learning until he had a chance to seek out and talk to his dear friend and only hope, Robert. If she discovered he was lying, though, it was all over. All it would take is one of his lies to be discovered before the little lady would traipse back to the Laird she called “father.” On the walk to the croft, he was reveling in his good fortune.
Now, with time to think, dread clutched at his insides. Neilina was dangerous. No matter how charming and innocent she seemed, he knew she had the power to end his life.
Chapter Two
Neilina found it hard to concentrate as she went about her duties. She was relieved to find Angus had not stirred up too much trouble in the time she spent hunting out lodgings for her new, mysterious instructor.
It was her duty to oversee the preparations for the games. Normally, she took pride and joy in such occasions. This stranger, Robert, captivated her thoughts, and she was left in a daze. By nightfall, when she sat in her chambers combing out her tangled tresses, she surprised herself as she realized she hardly remembered what she had done for the hours since they parted.
When she saw him step in between Angus and the serving woman, she was already charging across the street to put a stop to it. The fearless way he stood in front of Angus had burned into her mind. He was like a slab of unmovable stone, silent and determined to prevent injustice to the stranger in his path. There was a pained look in his eyes, one that tore at her heartstrings and left her with a desire to heal him—to make the somber stranger smile, despite whatever troubled his soul.
That night, she found it hard to sleep as fear and excitement gripped her. Despite the minimal education she was allowed, she’d always loved to learn. The idea of learning French elicited visions of travel and adventure far beyond the confining walls of her keep and the expectations laid out by her family. Despite this hunger to see one of her dreams realized, as she stared up at her ceiling, she realized now that the decision was an impulsive one.
She knew nothing about the stranger she just housed and promised to pay. Neilina’s mind riled with the possible dangers she could be walking into. After all, he said he just returned from pilgrimage. Her immediate judgments were that this strange man was a pious man treading the world to become closer to God—a noble course. However, it occurred to her now that he might have walked the Via Francigena in penance in hopes of receiving a pardon from the Pope. Neilina rolled over and tried to guess what kind of crimes a man such as he might be guilty of until her heart raced. She forced the thoughts from her mind. No matter what, she knew she would go. She waited too long to pass up an opportunity such as this.
The next morning the sun fell through thin gray clouds. She could smell spring in the air—a mixture of moist soil and rain. Enthusiasm pulsed through her. Neilina completed her chores as fast as she could. It was all she could do to keep from running to the small croft.
She pulled her hair over her shoulders and took a deep breath to calm her excitement before rapping on the door. For a moment, as she waited, she feared he was not there or worse, her darker imaginations might be the truth. She
looked around. There was only a small pocket of time before she was expected back down at the grounds where the games were to be held. Relief washed over her as she heard footsteps.
“Mornin’,” she smiled.
Kyle’s features were unreadable. There was a warmth in his green eyes that kept her smile from fading. She could see past his hard exterior. There was more to him than what met at first glance. He nodded to her in greeting and stood aside for her to enter.
Neilina looked about the small room and felt self-conscious. The entire croft was the same size, if not smaller, than her personal chambers. She looked at him, trying to judge if he was uncomfortable, hoping he might say something first to break the silence.
