But before she had taken two steps, she felt a big hand on her arm. It grabbed her and pulled her back.
“Let me go, you monsters!” she yelled, fighting back with all her power, which made no difference.
Jack lifted her easily over his shoulder as if she were a bag of flour and carried her towards the road. No amount of kicking and screaming helped. Marion was tightly held on his shoulder until he set her down by the men’s horses.
“Lass, we’re nae goin’ to hurt ye. We’re goin’ to the Laird’s castle, and ye will come with us. It’s dangerous fer a young bonnie lass like yerself to stay here in the moors. Besides, ye are an English lass in Scottish territory. Ye could be a spy fer all we ken,” Jack said with a gentler expression than before.
Marion looked around suspiciously. The men were mounting their horses now, as if they had forgotten she was even there.
“Fine. But I want Bells,” she said, pointing at her horse.
Jack chuckled, and lifted Marion up onto her white mare. He then grabbed Bells’ reins while he mounted his own horse and kept holding on to them tightly.
The caravan of six men and now one displeased English lady started on the road.
“Where are we going?” Marion asked Jack, who was sitting on a dark bay horse, riding in front of her and still holding on to Bells’ reins.
“To Gille Chriost, little lass,” Jack answered shortly.
That doesn’t tell me much.
Marion thought it better to not ask any more questions. After all, she didn’t care where they were going, she wanted to leave and continue her journey.
Wherever they were going, she hoped the Laird would be a reasonable man who would let her go. She had heard of the Highlander’s ways and barbaric fights with the English before. She had even heard of the women who had been at a wrong place at a wrong time.
Well, Jack and his men didn’t hurt me—maybe the Laird will listen to reason, too, Scottish or not.
The journey lasted for hours and Marion was starting to get too tired to be scared and worried anymore. She wasn’t used to long rides. Hunger pressed her stomach like a rock and she was thirsty. The men around her acted like she wasn’t there. They talked to each other and laughed loudly, as if Marion was just another horse in the pack.
Just as Marion was about to open her mouth and tell Jack she wanted a break, she saw a high wooden wall peeking around the bend. The gate was closed, and in front of it she saw two armed guards. They lowered their swords and hurried to open the gate as the band of Highlanders and Marion approached.
Behind the gates, Marion could see a tiny town. They kept walking along a muddy pathway that lead to a busy square. She saw women walking around with their children. Children were playing with each other. The women were dressed well, but not as well as they were at Marion’s manor. Their clothes had seen better days, and suddenly Marion felt very self-conscious about her own gown that made her seem overdressed.
The muddy pathway continued between houses and they passed a blacksmith. Marion heard the sound of a hammer hitting metal somewhere deep in the shed and she could feel the warm wave of fire coming from inside as they passed the open door.
“They’re back, they’re back!” the blacksmith yelled in excitement and ran up to Jack, who leaned down to pat his back, smiling.
Marion was sincerely curious about this tiny town so far from everywhere else. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. She was used to clean and fancy towns with many shops and well-dressed people. Instead, this town looked like it was inhabited only by peasants, who had never seen silk in their life. Regardless, she saw many smiling faces, as if they didn’t care that their clothes were dusty and had patches on them.
There were vegetable gardens, pig sties, chickens and geese running around, and further away on a small pasture, she spotted a herd of sheep.
She was looking around this tiny town that was surrounded by tall wooden gates. It looked as if the mountain that rose above them on the north side was watching over the village, like a hen covering her eggs with her wings.
On her left, she could see the castle rising behind the blacksmith’s cottage and the town’s market. It was built mainly from grey rock, and it seemed very old. Green leafy growth had taken over the outer walls from the corners. The wooden window panels were open and even the front door was wide open. It made the otherwise gloomy castle seem more inviting.
Marion snapped back to reality when she heard sharp clanging noises ahead. She reached her head to the right, trying to take a peek behind Jack’s back to see where the noise was coming from. She saw two men ahead, fighting each other with swords.
Though Marion had never seen such an event before, she knew they weren’t really fighting. They were training. The yard was emptied around them and it was clearly an open space for practicing. The two men swung their swords in a fast pace and the men’s feet were moving so quickly, Marion found herself wondering how they didn’t trip over themselves. She had never seen anything like it and was completely mesmerized by the scene in front of her.
The young man was tall and dark haired. He was wearing a dirty white shirt that was halfway open, revealing a strong and muscular chest. The older man was now lying on the ground, defeated by the former. He had a long white beard and was wearing a thick wool jacket despite the warm summer air. Though clearly an older man, he didn’t look the least bit fragile.
The old man must be the Laird
