Timeless Tales of Honor (34 page)

He sat her upon a chair and untied her bindings. He studied the burn marks the binds had left and shook his head. She did look a mess, with leaves in her hair and the cut lip, but he imagined she would clean up nicely and be presentable to the earl soon enough.

“Tell me your name,” he said as he walked to a table and poured a tankard of ale. She declined his offer with a shake of her head.

“I am Aishlinn,” she told him.

“What is your last name?” he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting directly across from her.

“I am a bastard child. I have no last name.” She would not give up her family name no matter what torture they chose to put her through.

Andrew raised a curious brow. “Where have you been kept all these many months?” he asked quietly as he crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands upon his knee.

“With a family several miles from here.”

“Who are they?” he asked.

“I lied to them,” she began. “They knew not from where I came. They kindly took me in. I helped the lady wife around her home and with her bairns.”

“I asked for a name,” he said.

“Please, I tell you the truth. They know nothing of the earl and how I came to be here. They are truly innocent.” She swallowed hard, hoping she would not trip in her own lie.

“When a visitor came to their home and told of the soldiers that were near and that they looked for a lass with cut hair and green eyes, I knew it was me they searched for. I knew I had to leave for I wanted no harm to come to them. I snuck away in the night to turn myself over to you.” Her voice cracked as she fought back tears. Parts of what she told him were true and she prayed that he would accept her story.

Andrew eyed her for a moment. “So in order to save the lives of the family that took you in, you readily turned yourself over to us?” he asked calmly. Aishlinn could detect a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Aye,” she said.

He stood then and walked about the room, his hands clasped at his back. He paused and looked to her. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“’Tis the truth. I swear it!” Aishlinn said, sending prayers up to God to make this man believe her.

He strode so quickly to her that she had no time to brace herself before he slapped her across the face. The force of it brought stars to her eyes as she fell to the floor. Her cheek burned and she felt the welt rise almost instantly. He picked her up by her arms and shook her.

“Do not lie to me again!” he said squeezing her arms with so much force she thought they might snap in two.

“I speak the truth!” she pleaded with him. “I swear it! They were so kind to me. I knew your soldiers would not take kindly to anyone who helped me!” Her voice rose, thick with fear as she pleaded with him. “I want no harm to come to them. Please, I beg you!” Tears began to stream down her face.

“I do not believe you,” he seethed. “If you do not tell me the truth, I shall let my men have their way with you. Each and every one of them.” Aishlinn’s mind raced as she prayed for the right words to convince him she told the truth as well as a way to prohibit him from keeping his promise. “But the earl, he has trothed for me,” she said desperately through her tears.

“Yes, he has,” Andrew said, his voice cool. “We have been told to bring you back, dead or alive. Though the earl would very much rather have you alive, it matters not to me.” He squeezed her arms tighter causing Aishlinn to wince. “I believe you have been sent here as a trap,” he told her.

Aishlinn was confused. “A trap?”

Andrew let go long enough to slap her again. Aishlinn looked at him, stunned for she didn’t know what he was talking about. “We know the Scots do not hold us in high regard. They’ll use any excuse to attack us. You’ve been sent here, have you not, to keep us busy while the ignorant Scots surround us?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Nay! I swear ’tis not true!”

Andrew studied her for a moment and he could see the fear in her eyes. He rather enjoyed that look upon her. Carefully, he sat her back in the chair and began to pace. Aishlinn rubbed her face where he had hit her. She was suddenly beginning to wish she had not come, had not turned herself over to them. It had all seemed so hopeless last night, as if she had no other alternatives. She wondered if this was how her mother had felt all those years ago, desperate and with very little, if any, choices at her disposal.

“We leave immediately,” Andrew told her. “The earl waits not far from here.” A smile came to his face as he saw terror flash in her eyes. “Though he is not well, he does very much wish to see you again before you die.”

Aishlinn choked on the bile that formed in her belly and raced up her throat. It really was over for her then. But that had been her intent all along, to give herself up, to accept the punishment for stabbing the man who had tried to rape her. She had done it to save her people. A sense of calm came to her then. She could only hope that death would come quickly and that God would forgive her and allow her through the gates of heaven to be with her mother.

I
t had not taken
them long to assemble the men and set out in search of Aishlinn. Her tracks were easy to follow as Duncan, Angus and more than a hundred warriors, including those belonging to the Clan McDunnah, headed northeast in search of her. The tracks they followed appeared fresh and they estimated they weren’t more than three hours behind her. She was on foot so the chance of reaching her quickly brought a twinge of hope to Duncan’s heavy heart.

He was angry with her for leaving, angry with her for acting so foolishly with no apparent regard for her own safety. He was angry with himself as well for not thinking, even for a moment that she would be crazy enough to pull such a stunt.

If they were lucky enough to find her alive and well, he would be quite tempted to lock her in the oubliette for a fortnight! Well, maybe not an entire fortnight, maybe only a few days. Or mayhap only a few hours. Just long enough to get her attention and show her that she could not just take matters into her own hands and leave without thinking the entire situation through. How could she do this to his heart?

They followed her trail across the glen and into a dense thicket of woods. Duncan growled when they were forced to slow their pace when the tracks became more difficult to see in the forest. A few men dismounted to get a better look. After what seemed an eternity, they picked up her trail again and traveled on.

His mind wandered to hellish thoughts; thoughts that they might not find her alive or well. She could very well be in the hands of the English at this moment and God only knew what they were doing to her. Breathing in deeply to settle the growing queasiness, he pushed his horse faster. He had to find her. He had to bring her home.

He made a deal with God that if He would allow him to find his wife alive and unharmed, he would forever serve Him in whatever capacity the Lord wanted him to. He would give all his worldly possessions to the church. He would attend mass on a regular basis and would never take the Lord’s name in vain again. There wasn’t a bargain he was not willing to make in order to see her safely back in his arms. He’d not lock her in the oubliette. Instead, he would climb back into bed with her where he would hold her and not ever let her go.

They had been in the dense thicket for quite awhile when one of the men spotted something white lying on the ground ahead. He jumped from his horse and retrieved the wimple and brought it to Duncan. Aishlinn seldom wore one. His blood grew cold when he found a few short, golden blonde hairs stuck to the cloth.

“Duncan, there be tracks here as well. Looks like four horses,” the man said as he walked along following the tracks for a distance.

His blood froze when he realized his wife had gotten her wish. She was now in the hands of the English.

A
ishlinn drew
into herself as she sat with her hands bound in front of her riding atop a dark gray horse. A soldier rode on either side of her, one of which had the reins of her horse tied to his saddle. They were riding fast and she was barely aware they were heading due east. She paid no attention to what was taking place around her. She was lost in a deep part of herself where the world around her could not enter.

She thought of Duncan, hoping that he would understand her decision and that he would not be too angry with her. Hopefully, she told herself, he would move on with his life and find someone new to love. She prayed that the good Lord would give him a new life, like the one He had given Isobel and Angus.

It would not be long before she would be presented to the earl and her life would again be in his hands. She fought back the urge to retch at thinking of what he would do to her. It would be nothing like the love and tenderness Duncan had showed her last night. She would withdraw her mind from it, accept whatever deplorable thing he wanted to do as long as it meant no harm would come to her people.

Clouds that threatened rain had formed by the time they reached a small clearing. A heavy mist hung in the air, chilling her to the bone.

Several grand coaches and more soldiers took up nearly the entire clearing. A large tent, with the flag of England flying high atop it sat in the rear of it all and smaller tents were scattered about the encampment. The earl was more likely than not within the large tent. She fought back the urge to wretch, swallowed hard and forced herself to look away.

Several soldiers stood near open fires and seemed uninterested at the troop that bounded into the encampment. Aishlinn’s soldiers stopped not far from the main tent and helped her down. Her legs were weak and wobbly, but the soldier caught her before she collapsed to the ground.

Leaning against the horse for support she rested her head against the beast’s neck as they waited for direction. Andrew soon appeared and led her to one of the smaller tents.

“I shall inform the earl that you are here,” he said as he took her inside and sat her in a chair.

“Please, do not even think of escape for I’ll not hesitate to cut your throat if you should try,” his voice was hard and cold. Giving her a slight bow, he left her alone.

A cold, dreadful chill ran down her spine. It would not be long before she would be taken to the earl. She wished that she had been afforded time to pen a letter to Duncan. She would have liked to thank him for the new life he had given her -- albeit not long enough for her liking. She would have tried to explain that it was her love for him that helped her make this decision.

She would have written a letter to Isobel and Angus as well. She would have thanked Isobel for the kindness she had shown her and told Angus how proud she had been to be his daughter, even if it were for but a day.

Not much time had passed before Andrew returned. The stern and unhappy expression his face held increased her sense of dread.

“The healer gave the earl a sleeping tea,” he said. “Lucky for you. You will get to live a while longer.” He folded his hands behind his back as he studied her.

“I think we should take advantage of the earl’s slumber and get you into a more presentable state,” he said before leaving the tent. He returned after a brief time with a basin of water, soap and linens.

“Clean yourself. I’ll return shortly to help you further.”

Her unease intensified for she was quite certain that he did not mean to offer any kind of help that she would want. She hung her head in her hands and prayed.

A
fter having a good cry
, Aishlinn stood and washed her face and hands. The cold water chilled her, but not nearly as much as the thoughts of what the earl was going to do to her. It felt as though the blood in her veins had been replaced with ice.

It was some time later before Andrew returned. This time she readily accepted his offer of a tankard of ale. She took it with the hope of becoming so intoxicated that she would not know what was taking place. She emptied it quickly before slamming the empty tankard hard on the table.

“Remove your gown,” Andrew told her.

She stared at him blankly and steeled herself.

“Remove it now, or I shall remove it for you.” His firm tone and cold stare told her that he had no qualms in keeping his word.

She stared him down for a moment before undoing the laces and pulling the dress over her head. Shivering, she clung to her dress in an attempt to cover herself. Her shift did little to hide much of anything.

Andrew grabbed her gown and tossed it to the floor. He stared at her approvingly for several long moments. “I see now why the earl lusts after you so.”

“Remove your boots,” he directed her. Aishlinn paused for a moment, knowing it would do no good to argue. She sat down in the chair and removed her boots. The earth was damp and cold under her bare feet and it brought more chill bumps to her skin.

“I do believe the earl is ready to see you now.” The smile on his face sickened her and she suddenly found herself wishing for something with which to stab him.

He wrapped a linen sheet around her shoulders, letting his fingers linger on her neck. A wicked smile flashed across his face before he grabbed her elbow and led her from the tent. It seemed to have grown colder out of doors. Or perhaps it was fear that made it seem that way. It wouldn’t be long now before she was dead.

They paused briefly in front of the earl’s tent as Andrew eyed her closely. “I do hope that he does not kill you straight away.” He leaned in to whisper his intent. “For I would most definitely like a taste of you when he is done.” He breathed heavily into her ear before kissing her lobe.

Revulsion shot through her stomach and she thought of kneeing him in his blasted English groin. Andrew tossed her into the dark tent and closed the flap.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness for there was only one candle burning. As her eyes began to focus, she caught a faint image of someone lying in a bed that stood at the rear. Just like the sick bastard to be waiting for her in bed.

She strained her ears to listen and she thought she could hear a sick rattle of breath coming from him. She forced herself to take a step closer in order to gain a better look at him.

Something gnawed at the back of her mind. There was something about the moment that did not feel at all right. Aye, the entire situation was dire and wrong, but why he had he not pounced on her the moment she entered as he had done that night back at Firth?

Aishlinn soon realized why he hadn’t come after her. The earl was not at all well; his face was sallow and gray and his eyes were sunken. Apparently he had not bathed in quite sometime for she could smell his stench from where she stood.

“There you are.” His voice was husky and low, weak sounding. She barely recognized him or the sound of his voice.

“Come to me,” he said.

She couldn’t move.

“If you do not come here this instant, I shall have my men bring you to me. And they’ll not be at all kind about it.”

She did not doubt him. She inched her way slowly towards him and a sense of relief began to come over her. He was sick and diseased. Gone was the strong and terrifying man. Only a shell of the man who had terrified and beaten her remained.

Hope began to rise; for she knew he could not harm her in the way she feared the most. Kill her? Yes. But there was no way he could take from her what she had denied him months ago.

“I have been looking everywhere for you,” he told her, motioning for her to come closer.

“All across the lands, I’ve had men searching day and night for you.” He coughed hard for several long moments before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“You’ve been very good at keeping yourself hidden.” He looked at her with yellowed eyes. “Andrew tells me you have turned yourself over willingly?”

Aishlinn did not answer. Her mind was suddenly racing towards thoughts of escape. It would take very little effort on her part to hold a pillow over his face until he took his last breath. She could very well then shimmy under the walls of the tent and run for safety.

“Did you do that? Turn yourself in willingly?” he demanded to know. Aishlinn nodded her head yes as her eyes looked for an opening, a way out.

“Why?” He tried to shout but could not.

“Did you come back to stab me again, you whore?”

Aishlinn could only stare as her mind raced for a means of escape.

“Would you like to know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked. She really didn’t think there was much he could do given his current state of health.

“I’m going to ask Andrew to assist me. He’s not nearly as nice as I would have been to you, had you simply given in to me that night.” He took a ragged breath.

“Andrew’s going to come in and strip you bare, you see. Then he is going to do all those nasty yet wonderful things to you that I wanted to. And I’m going to watch with great pleasure. Then I’ll have every one of my soldiers come in and do it to you again, and again and again until you bleed from it.”

His face lit with a wicked smile. The confidence she felt just moments ago vanished quickly with his threat. The earl might not be able to carry out his wicked desires, but his men were quite capable.

Dismay and fear eroded her reserve while her mind raced for a way out of her current predicament. Perhaps if she begged for mercy, pleaded with him. Perhaps if she promised to be a nurse to him then he might change his mind.

“My lord, I beg you, show mercy. I was but a scared and frightened young girl when last you saw me.” She could not believe the words that were coming from her mouth and nearly choked on them.

She rushed and knelt before his bed. “I knew not what I was doing, my lord. I knew not what kind of pleasure a man could bring to a woman.” She would most certainly retch all over him, but she had to do something to save herself.

She had been fully prepared to be disemboweled, hung or tortured as a means of death. Being raped repeatedly by countless men had not crossed her mind and that she could not and would not abide. Determination set in. There had to be a way out of this.

The earl’s smile broadened. “So. You’ve learned in your time away the pleasures a man can bring to a woman, have you?” He coughed again and his stench was enough to knock a pig over.

“Aye, I have,” she answered, swallowing hard, trying to look pathetic, forlorn, sorry, anything that would get him to change his mind.

“Remove the linen,” he told her. She knew she needed to keep him calm. There was no limit to the pain he would inflict if he was angered enough.

Taking a deep breath, she let the linen fall to the floor. Her filmy shift offered little in the way of hiding her bare skin. A disgusting smile formed on his lips when he caught a glimpse of what lay under the transparent fabric.

“Remove your shift.”

She simply could not bring herself to do it. While she had given herself over to them willingly in order to stave off a battle between her clan and the English, she could not suffer the indignantly of assisting him further.

“Please my lord, do not ask me to do that.” Her voice squeaked with fear.