Enraptured by the Highlander

Soon, she heard voices, many voices. I’m in the town’s square. Adelaine braced herself to feel rotten things lobbied at her, putrid eggs, sour fruit, vegetable peels, even human excrement. After all, weren’t public executions time for those shameful acts to take place?

But none came and the cart came to a stop. Tensely, she waited to be taken off and when she did and the blindfold was taken off, fear spilled into her insides, swamping her. The town’s square was lined off with people, men, women and children alike, all of them looking at her.

Adelaine was tempted to lowered her head but she had nothing to be ashamed off. With her chin lifted she turned toward the execution block placed high on a makeshift stage. Her father was there with a man holding a wicked axe. The weapon was curved and light glinted off the cruel blade sinisterly.

A cry rose from the crowd and she spun to see Caelan being marched in. Then the arms rose and all manner of putrid things were thrown at him, accompanied by curses of “Murderer,” and “Scottish dog.” She wanted to throw herself at him and make them stop but a footman was making her walk to where she would be slayed.

She took the three steps with her head lifted high. This man might condemn her but God would not. Her eyes lifted to the axe and fear clogged her throat but she told herself that soon, very soon, it would be over. She had already made her peace with God. She shifted to look at the pale, silver-golden sun in the murky blue sky.

“Lady Adelaine Watson, the charges against you are treachery against the King, His Majesty Henry VIII by conspiracy to free a prisoner of war and the act of betrayal to the realm by abdicating your stature as a Lady of the Realm and seeking asylum in Scotland,” her father said. “Do you accept these charges so that God might assign mercy to you?”

She tilted her head high, “I reject them all. I have made peace with my lot, Father, kill me if you will but I will never regret freeing an innocent man.” She then turned to the crowd. “Mark you this day that you have seen your esteemed leader kill his daughter!”

Her father’s face darkened, then he nodded to the executioner. “You heard her. Mercy is withdrawn, may God deal with you as He sees fit.”

She yelled, “Kill me, but know that my blood and my brother’s blood are on your hands!”

The executioner grabbed her, forced her to kneel and then as her neck was placed on the block, bedlam erupted. Out of nowhere, an arrow hit the executioner directly in his chest, and blood spurted as he fell back taking his axe with him.

Another one hit nearly hit her father but when he regrouped, he bellowed to the air, “Fight back!”

The people were running everywhere and she looked to see Knights dressed in her father’s surcoats starting to pour out of the building as well as men in kilts, armed with swords, dropping from the rooftops. Shock rushed the blood to her head and left her momentarily dizzy but this was no time for fear. No time for hesitation.

She rolled away from the block and using the axe’s blade, cut through her bonds. Her father had disappeared but she did not care. The only thing running through her mind was to get to Caelan. Hunkering down, her mind was in a flurry but she looked with forced patience and found him being pulled into a building. She scrambled off the wooden pedestal and ran toward the building.

She pushed through the people and tripped over something in the road but regained her balance and still ran. She darted into the building to see Caelan there with—dear God—Robert Duglas, a man she knew was dead.

At first, she believed she was seeing a phantasm but when she reached for and felt his grip she had to let go of that notion. “You’re alive!”

“And you will be too if you heed to what I say,” the knight said. “Stay here and fight whoever comes at you that is not a Scot or one on my men.” He shoved a dagger into her hand and a sword into Caelan’s. “I’ll explain all when this is over.”

He grabbed his helmet and was gone. The place they were in was a miller’s store with casks of flour and wheat all around them. She took Caelan’s hand but he kissed her. His eyes were bright with defiance. “We have another chance, let’s make sure we damn well take it.”

Three men, armed with a battle axes, and maces, and swords came in, none of them were Scottish and none of them declared fealty to Duglas. She lunged forward with her dagger to the man who grabbed at her. Her dagger flashed upward but the man dodged her strike and grabbed her raised arm. His hold was so tight that she dropped the dagger but when he forced her to her knees, she grabbed it with her left hand and she plunged the blade into his thigh.

The man roared, drawing his sword up to pierce her through but Caelan blocked it and kicked him off her. The second his back hit the ground; she stabbed her dagger into his neck. His eyes bulged but the blood gushing from his neck had him dead in seconds.

Caelan was fighting the others, then brought his blade down to finish two men. One had his gut run through and fell to the ground in a heap and the other, though wounded, still had the mettle to fight. They circled each other and Caelan’s sword met the man’s in midair, the sound of metal against metal loud and deafening.

Adelaine’s heart as in her throat as the swords slashed and clashed with the other. A blow struck Caelan and he fell on his back. She screamed when the sword came down in a killing strike but he rolled away just in time.

She could see his strength flagging when had to stand up. Sweat was pouring down his face and his grip on the sword was lax. He was about to beg for his life when Caelan flung the sword away and lunged at him. They went down in a tumble of arms and legs, with Caelan’s hand around the man’s throat.

Adelaine was looking at the door with anxiety hoping that no one would come in again but Duglas. She heard a pained gasp and a deep gurgling sound and saw Caelan putting his whole body into strangling the man. His fingers were clawing at the Scotsman, but Caelan was resolute and soon the opponent went lax and his hands fell. Caelan leaned into him once more, squeezing his neck to make sure the man was dead.

She sagged on the wall and looked at the bloodied dagger in her hand and the red blood splattered over it. She did not hear any commotion outside and dared to stand. Her bloody hands, as she used the wall for help to stand, slipped a little but she stood.

Caelan came to his feet and they shared a knowing gaze. She turned toward the door and looked out, to see the square empty of living men but bodies were strewn on the ground. She gestured to Caelan to come with her as they left the shop. With their weapons in hand just in case, they walked carefully, meandering through the bodies until they came near to the platform.

“—I know your crimes, Earl,” Robert Duglas said.

They came around to see the knight holding a sword to her father’s chest. “I’ve found the letters your mercenary sent to him and I heard his dying words.”

Caelan’s eyed widened before he stepped around to see both of them. The Scotsman held on to a part of the podium and sighed, “And I kent I was the only one…”

Adelaine looked at Caelan and Duglas. “What did he say?”

Caelan looked at the Earl with something close to pity, “That night, before he died, Peter said: ‘My father has sent for a man to kill me, because I married a woman he deems worthless. I’ve read the letters and saved a few he thought were destroyed. I love her with all my heart which is why I will die protecting her.’”