When Fate Dictates (7 page)

I don’t know how long I slept but when I woke
it was to nothing more than a dull ache in my head. I sat up
cautiously, looking around the room for Simon. Of course, he went
out, I thought dimly to myself. Oh heavens, what must he think of
me? I sighed deeply, filling my lungs with as much air as I could.
Looking around the room for the jug, I slowly got off the bed. I
filled a bowl with water, washed, tidied my hair, straightened my
dress and felt generally better for it. Opening the shutters I
stood at the bedroom window, inhaling deep breaths of air and
watched the people of the city go about their daily lives. Sailors,
crippled beggars and peddlers shouted their wares; wealthy
gentlemen like Mr. Marshall and ladies dressed in fine silk filled
the street. I stayed at the window for a long time, just watching
the people come and go beneath me and wondered as I did what lives
they lived.

Then I saw him: the Red Coat from the glen
with the copper hair. I swayed against the window, pressing my palm
flat against the stone sill, as I fought to clear the image in my
head. I could see his face in the firelight, the bayonet in his
hand, dripping with the blood of my friends. I slammed the shutters
shut and sank to the floor. “Oh dear God, what about Simon?” I
whispered desperately. “What if he finds him here?”

Simon returned several hours later slamming
the door behind him. I leapt to my feet as he entered the room.
“Feeling better lass?” he said, breezing into the room as if he
hadn’t a care in the world.

“Simon, he is here... one of the Campbell
men... from that morning in the glen, the one with the red hair,” I
stammered in panic.

He nodded, “I know.”

“What are we going to do Simon?” I said, my
hands trembling with fear.

“It’s alright, Corran.” He moved toward me,
taking my hands in his and leading me like a frightened child to
the chair. “Sit down,” he said.

“Ask me nicely,” I snapped, my fear abruptly
replaced by annoyance.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Very well
then. Corran, will you please sit with me and hear my plan?” he
said, chuckling loudly. We sat opposite each other at the table.
Simon held up his flask, a sparkle glinting in his eyes. “Do you
want some?” he teased.

“No, thank you,” I replied, lowering my eyes
to avoid having to face him. “Will you just tell me what you are
thinking?”

He slowly raised the flask to his mouth and
took a sip, watching me out of the corner of his eyes, deliberately
keeping me in suspense. “Do you recall Joseph Marshall?” I nodded,
realizing that the man’s name was one of the few things I did
remember from last night. “Well you may also recall that Joseph is
a merchant.” My face must have betrayed my lack of comprehension
because Simon paused, sighed irritably and rubbed his head. “Do you
know what a merchant is?”

I didn’t have the faintest idea what a
merchant was, nor did I have any memory of being told that Joseph
was one. “I have no recollection, Simon,” I said, having no option
but to admit my ignorance and alcohol-induced memory loss.

“Well a merchant is someone who trades
things,” he paused briefly, taking another sip of his flask, “with
other people in the hope that he might make some money.”

I nodded. “So Mr. Marshall sells things and
makes money from their sale?” I replied sarcastically, thinking
that he had no need to explain the matter as though I were
incapable of basic comprehension.

Seemingly unaware of my growing annoyance, he
continued undeterred. “Aye, that he does Corran. But Joseph doesn’t
sell just anything. He sells things from foreign countries, like
Africa.”

Not having the slightest idea where this
place was, I was relieved when he moved swiftly on to an
explanation of where Africa was. Followed by an in-depth
description of how long it took ships to get there and the dangers
involved in the journey. By the time he had finished I wondered
why, even for profit, anyone would want to travel six months in
such dire conditions.

“Joseph has a ship leaving port for West
Africa in a week.” He looked seriously into my eyes, holding my
gaze he continued, “If we want it the ship is ours to travel on.”
He finished swigging the last mouthful of his drink.

“You must be joking?” I said, casting him a
sharp look.

“Well, you must admit the idea holds a
certain attraction?”

I shook my head, confused. “No, not really,
what attraction could you possibly see in traveling to West
Africa?”

“Because... it will take us away from here
and give us a chance of a future. We could make enough money on
this trip to see us right for life,” he said steadily.

“Do we have a week Simon? Should we not try
and leave the city now, before the Red Coat finds you?”

“Never mind about him Corran, he will not be
a problem to us.” The color drained from his face and his eyes
looked down. His brows furrowed and as I watched him I understood
with horror the meaning of his words.

“You are never going to kill him?” I asked,
my voice trembling and low.

“I have no choice. Either I see him dead or
he will see me dead. I know which one I prefer.” he said
gravely.

“But why Africa, Simon? It’s so far away,
can’t we just go to France?”

He shook his head. “No, France is not an
option for me. I am a soldier of the English King and that won’t
hold much sway in France.”

“Are you a sailor then?” I asked,
confused.

“No lass, I am not a sailor but my father is,
and this man Marshall knows my father.”

“But you told him we were Mr. and Mrs.
Brun.”

“I told him I had sailed with my father, as a
hand on one of his ships. He doesn’t know we are related. My pa has
stories aplenty to cover his adventures at sea and I only needed to
repeat a few details from one to have the man take me seriously. It
was an easy story to tell.”

“What would you do on the ship then, if you
can’t really sail?”

“Well that is the beauty of it. Mr. Marshall
isn’t looking for a sailor but a negotiator, so as long as our
captain doesn’t die then we will be fine. What I am really needed
for is to keep an eye on some cargo and keep the captain’s eyes off
it.”

I cocked my eyebrows in suspicion. “I think
that the goods you are to sail with and sell are not legal?”

He smiled across the table at me. “And I
think, wee Corran, that you are quick to catch on.”

“Simon, exactly what will I do on this ship?”
I asked.

“Ahh, well...” he said, as though he was not
quite sure what to say to me. “You will act as my wife,” he said
simply.

Far from satisfied with this answer, I tried
again. “Exactly what is that going to entail?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his
shoulders. “I don’t know for sure, but there is never a shortage of
jobs on board ship. The women folk usually tend to the sick, so I
guess you will be able to give a hand with that.”

I nodded, slightly more satisfied with this
reply. Simon raised his arm and kneaded the muscles at the back of
his neck. “I have something to do and I must do it tonight.” His
look told me what it was he had to do.

“Are you going to find the man with the
copper hair?” I asked, my eyes wide with fear and concern. “What if
you get hurt Simon, or what if there are more than just that
red-haired one here?”

“He is the only one we need fear now. I will
sort it Corran, don’t worry, I promise you it will be fine.”

Unconvinced I shook my head, sickening panic
filling the pit of my stomach. “No, Simon, please don’t do it,
there must be another way.”

“I don’t want to do it but whilst he is alive
we will never be safe. I have no choice in the matter.” He pulled
out his dirk and held it steady in his hand for a few moments.

“It won’t be painful lass, he won’t know a
thing of it, I promise.”

He put his coat on and made to leave, and I
watched in fear as he closed the door. I whispered softly, “I love
you Simon.”

Seconds later the door opened a crack and he
popped his head around the opening, the hint of a smile on his
lips. “I told you before Corran, you love too easily.”

******

Again I was alone in the stone walled room. I
opened the shutters a crack and watched the street below. Night had
fallen and with it the fervent activity of the city had declined. I
could hear the ramblings of the tavern folk and the cries of the
beggars but all I wanted to hear was the sound of Simon’s footsteps
on the landing outside our room. Hours passed and still he did not
return. I closed the shutters and went downstairs to order two
bowls of soup and a jug of ale, which I took back up to our room.
They sat on the table untouched. I stoked the fire, wrapped myself
in my plaid and curled up on the hearth, praying that God would
send him safely back to me. I was awoken by a flurry of activity on
the street outside the bedroom window. I ran to the shutters,
flinging them open to see what was going on.

A man shouted but I could not make out what
he had said. Then I heard a group of men right below my window.

“It’s a Red Coat, that’s all I know.”

“Well I hope they get the bugger that killed
him.” Another with a slightly higher pitched voice said. “I heard
it was another Red Coat that did it,” came a deeper, more familiar
voice, but I had no time to consider it, as my legs gave way and I
dropped to the floor. My heart raced as I suddenly became aware of
it thundering in my chest.

“Oh Dear God, please no,” I cried silently,
shaking with despair and shock. “They will hang him for sure they
will,” I whispered to the empty room.

“Whatever is the matter lass?” I swung round
to see him standing in the doorway, a look of grave concern on his
face.

“I thought... ” I stammered, “I mean, I
thought they had caught you.”

He smiled down at me. “Oh ye of little faith,
whatever made you think I had been caught?”

“I heard them, outside the window, talking
about the Red Coat, saying he had been murdered and it was another
Red Coat,” I said, tears running down my face.

“You shouldn’t jump to so many conclusions.
Come now, stop your crying,” he said, handing me a folded cotton
handkerchief. I wiped my eyes and rubbed my nose, looking gravely
into his face. “I will tell you later about it. Don’t worry now;
they will not look for me for this death.” He reached out and took
my hands pulling me gently to my feet. “I see you have got us some
dinner,” he said, nodding at the table.

“It’s cold now,” I replied simply.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, sitting down
at the table and picking up a spoon.

I watched him in amazement. “How can you just
sit there and eat a meal when you have just killed a man?” I cried,
anger boiling inside me.

He raised his head slowly, rubbing his
temple. “I didn’t say I killed him,” he said simply.

“But... ” I was interrupted as he leaned
across the table and pressed a finger over my lips.

“I didn’t kill him because someone else
did.”

“Who?” I asked, staring at him, eyes wide as
saucepans.

“Another soldier killed him. He was gambling
and it got out of hand.” He got up from his chair and walked across
to the window. “It was my voice you heard in the street,” he
paused, the look on his face grim as a winter’s night. “I was
making sure that the man who did it was caught for it.” I moved to
stand beside him, sliding my hand into his.

“But why are you so concerned that he is
caught?” I asked.

“Because he also knows more than I would like
him to. I would rather the Crown hangs him for murder than have to
kill him myself.”

He drew his hand from mine and put his arm
around my waist, turning so that we faced each other. He pulled me
so close that I could feel the muscles of his body pressing against
me, and the firm grasp of his arms around me. He bent and kissed me
gently on the neck. “It’s time to finish this,” he said in a thick
husky whisper.

I closed my eyes as he lifted my chin with
his forefinger and covered my lips with his. My world was swept
away on an intoxicating wave of passion as he lightly kissed the
side of my neck and ran his hands along the curve of my waist.
Gently he held me away from him. His breath was heavy and his jaw
tense as he rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration.

“What’s wrong Simon?” I asked, confused.

“Nothing is wrong,” he whispered, his eyes
dark with passion. “You know Corran that I am a man of the world?”
he paused, turning to pick up his flask. “That there are things you
cannot undo once done?” He stood holding the flask, looking down,
questioningly into my eyes, as if the answers he sought could be
found in their depths. He took a long sip of his flask, savoring
the taste of the liquid as it ran down his throat.

“Simon, I don’t understand. What have I done
wrong?”

He did not answer me; instead he stood
staring at me, his eyes scanning my face, dropping to linger over
the swell of my breasts. “Christ, but you are beautiful Corran,” he
groaned, shaking his head in despair and running his fingers along
the line of my jaw. “I am sorry lass, but I just can’t do it to
you,” he said, suddenly turning from me, he picked up his hat and
moved toward the door. Standing in front of it, he stared back at
me, his hand hovering over the handle. “I am not made of steel, but
by God around you I wish I were.” He turned the handle and opened
the door.

“Please don’t go Simon,” I begged, my eyes
filling with tears of rejection. “What have I done?” I whispered
softly.

“I won’t be long, go to bed,” he said
abruptly, and with that he was gone.

I sat at the table looking into the embers of
the fire, watching their gentle glow. I brushed my fingers over my
lips, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine as we had
kissed.