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Chapter 7
Ailsa couldn't believe her bought her two dresses. She would have been amazed by just one! Ever since Angus's attack, she had not been allowed to wear anything remotely nice. She was given worn out hand-me-downs from the other servants and they rarely ever fit properly. She felt pretty for the first time in years. She sneaked a glimpse at Arthur who was riding Mera beside her. His short hair moved slightly in the afternoon breeze as they headed down the isolated road. He had a contented look on his face, one that she hoped would stay there. The scent of the pine branches wafted down on them as they followed the road into the woods.
Suddenly his face turned hard, his hands pulling at the reins and motioning her to do the same. He put a finger to his lips to signal her silence. She strained to hear whatever sound had caught his attention. Then a yell caught her attention, and two men jumped out from the trees behind them, waving swords and running towards them. They wore leather tunics and had long, scraggly hair. “Ailsa, run!” Arthur bellowed. They both spurred their horses to outrun the men, but were cut off by a cart that a third man guided out to block the road. Ailsa quickly realized what Arthur did; the underbrush along this part of the trail was too thick for them to ride into the woods and go around their attackers. They had no choice but to fight back.
Arthur pulled out his sword as he jumped to the ground. “Ailsa, stay back!” He raised his sword, ready to strike at the two men who now stood before him wielding swords of their own. Their haughty laughter sent chills down Ailsa's spine. “Why have ye stopped us? Let us pass!” Arthur demanded. The men smirked, and one of them stepped forward. “Nay, we shall not let ye pass. Ye see, we own this road, and ye must pay a tax to cross it. And that tax is- well, everything ye got!” The other men laughed.
“Ye want money? Ye can have it, but let us go free.” Arthur wasn't willing to risk a fight with these men unless he had too; he was willing to lose a little coin if that's what it took to keep Ailsa safe. The man shook his head. “Nay, lad. We want everything. Yer horses, yer food, and ye and the lass will be sold as slaves. We cannae have any witnesses coming back for revenge, now can we?” He chuckled menacingly. Arthur could hear the third man coming around behind him, having secured the cart in the road. He crouched lower, prepared to defend himself and Ailsa, when an arrow whizzed past him and struck the leader in the shoulder. The man gasped, clutching the arrow as he fell to his knees.
Everyone looked in shock to where Ailsa stood, Arthur's bow in her hand and another arrow ready to fly. No one had bothered to watch her, since a woman was not usually a threat, especially one as tiny as her. Her eyes were firm, and her expression showed her resolve. “I was a slave once, I'll not be one again! Ye will let us pass freely, or I'll shoot one of you while my companion guts the other!” One of them men growled at her, still unconvinced that she would shoot a second time. She pulled the arrow back a little further. “Do ye wish to test my self control, sir? I've been mistreated by men for many years, I would very much like to vent some of my frustration.” She lowered the bow slightly so it pointed towards the man's sensitive area. “Or perhaps I'll merely drop yer balls instead.”
The man's eyes widened, and he nodded to the other man. Defeated, they dropped their swords and backed away. Arthur leaned forward and picked up the fallen weapons, including the dead man's sword. “I'll be takin' these so you cannae use them on anyone else!” He growled. “I should kill ye. Ye should be thankful that there's a lady present and I don't wish to kill in front of her, else ye would probably be watching yer insides trail along the ground right about now.” His voice was very low and very menacing. One of them men made a move towards the horse and cart, but Arthur bellowed at him. “Take yer wounded and leave, while ye still have yer worthless lives!” They turned and hobbled away, dragging their wounded comrade between them.
Arthur walked towards Ailsa, a very amused expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “So, I'm guessing yer da taught ye how to shoot as well as how to fiddle?” She smiled weakly; she had been much more afraid than she had let on. “Aye, he taught me well. I suppose I should feel bad about shooting the man, but after seeing what men like Angus are capable of, I donnae have any pity for him.” Arthur nodded, “Good. I would hate to see ye lose sleep over that bastard.”
He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “That was a very brave thing ye did, lass. Many men would have lacked the courage ye showed.”
Ailsa's heart seemed to stop. His simple touch felt like fire coursing through her veins; her eyes unwittingly closed. Suddenly she felt his soft lips brush against hers, so gently she almost thought she had imagined it. Then he pulled away, and her eyes opened, He looked embarrassed, and quickly changed the subject. “We'll take the horse and cart with us and sell them in the next town along with the swords. I'll not leave them for those brigands to use in another robbery.” Ailsa nodded, still trying to catch her breath and decide if his lips on hers had been a dream or reality.
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He'd kissed her. What was he thinking? He cared for her, that much was certain; but did he really have the right to make his feelings known to her? He didn't want her to respond out of obligation, although he had his doubts that the newly freed Ailsa would do anything against her will. The thought of her hidden fiery temper caused a brief smile to cross his lips. My, she had looked so angry holding that bow. And she'd shot a man! The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin as he remembered the look of shock that crossed the men's faces. They had not expected to run into a woman as brave as Ailsa.
He realized Ailsa was watching him grin like a fool, a dainty eyebrow raised at him. “And what, pray, is so amusing?” He smiled. “I was just thinking that ye are full of surprises, lass. Ye sing and play like an angel, ye have a fiery temper but a heart of gold, and ye can shoot a bow better than most men I know. Ye can ride a horse as good as I. Is there anything else I should know about ye?”
She smiled. “Nay, but I would like to learn something that ye could teach me.” His eyebrow raised, but he let her continue. “Ye could teach me to fight.” He was about to laugh, but he saw that her face was serious. His expression was confused. “Ye want to fight, Ailsa? Why?” She looked down at the ground. “Ye are a man, Arthur; a knight. Ye can defend yourself if someone attacks ye. Ye donnae know what it's like to be helpless when someone hurts those ye love.” Her eyes raised to meet his, firm in their resolve. “I willnae be helpless anymore. If someone tries to hurt me, I want to know how to protect myself, as you do.” Her chin lifted. “I know I lack the strength that ye have, but I have seen small men wield a knife with cunning and win against a stronger opponent.”
Arthur sighed. “Lass, fighting is no skill for a woman to have. It is hard and dangerous. Once ye hold a sword in yer hand, ye become a target instead of a bystander. Yer opponents will show ye mercy if ye appear to be a weak woman; but holding a weapon makes ye a threat.”
Her voiced raised in response. “A bystander? Have ye not seen what happens to these “bystanders” in war, Arthur? The women in my father's keep held no swords, yet most were raped and murdered. The ones that lived were left alive only to serve his men's lusts longer. There are only a few alive today, and they are broken shells of the women they used to be. I was left untouched only because I was a child, not because I didnae hold a sword.” Her eyes were hard. “I would rather die with a sword in my hand than live to see that fate befall me. Would ye deny me that choice, Arthur?”
She had a valid point. Men like Angus had no regard for the code of chivalry towards women; he simply took what he wanted, regardless of who it hurt. Could he really deny her the skills to at least try to defend herself? She had courage, she had shown that with the bow. She would not freeze in fear when the moment came, of that he was certain. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing as he made his decision. “Nay, I see yer point, lass. I will teach ye what ye want to know. But it willnae be easy.”
Ailsa smiled grimly. “Arthut, my life has not been easy, and not of my choosin'. This is a hard road, but one I may choose for myself.”
They rode for several days without making any long stops. Arthur knew they were getting close to the McTaggarts holding, he suspected that they would arrive in another day or two. The fields of grain were giving way to the rocky highlands, where sheep and cattle were abundant and the air was cooler.
Each night after their ride, he would teach Ailsa how to use a sword. He could see that she was exhausted by the time they stopped to sleep, but she never stopped. Her eyes shone brightly and she never complained. At first her movements were clumsy and slow, but after only a few days she was starting to improve. Once she learned to properly hold the sword and to enact a few simple sword manoeuvres, she started learning more advanced footwork on her own. It was as though she was dancing with the sword; and it worked. Arthur still always won, but she was getting better and better.
“Are ye dancing with me, lass?” he grinned as he watched her feet move. She smiled. “Is that not what a fight is? A deadly dance that should be full of surprises?” With that, she twirled to the side to strike him in the ribs, catching him off guard. Surprised, he barely raised his practice sword in time. Although he was teaching her the sword movements and basic footwork, she was quickly creating her own fluid style that was based on dance and rhythm. It was quickly becoming something he had never seen before, and he doubted anyone else had either. If nothing else, she would have the element of surprise if anyone attacked her.
By the time they rode onto the McTaggart's holding, she was starting to hold her own against his sword. Arthur was a seasoned warrior so it would take time before she could ever think of beating him, but for now she at least had enough skill to defend herself. He had been glad of the fighting lessons, since it kept them too busy to dwell on his kiss. He had not tried to kiss her again, and he was determined to resist the temptation until she knew she had a safe place to live. He didn't want to make her feel frightened of him, or uncomfortable to ride in his presence.
The rode past the ancient stone wall that marked the entrance to the McTaggart's castle, the stone castle coming into view. It was quite large, with several towers and a large courtyard. Ailsa could see flocks of sheep in a nearby rocky pasture, and a large herd of cattle in another. She realized that these McTaggarts must be very wealthy; she self consciously smoothed her dress and hair as they rode to the door.
Arthur slid off his horse and helped her dismount, then walked up to the ancient oak door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
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