Hamish did not ask about my wellbeing and I did not mention it as he watched me step into the carriage. Two of the guards had been killed, silently and swiftly as expected. They had been buried efficiently and respectfully, carved crosses over each of the mounds. I watched William pull out a map and mark the place where they were, discretely placing the map back into his jacket pocket. I was upset about their deaths. However, I merely thanked the dead men at their gravesites, placing flower petals after each scoop of earth heaped over their bodies. I was not degraded for such feminine curtesy, rather admired as I openly showed that though they were gone, I granted them the same affection as any family member. Sarah later told me that the men had been touched by my actions, saying their comrades could not have been buried with greater honour. Though she admitted they planned to dig them up to be placed with their families after this mission. I found myself not minding, it was the thought rather than action that counted.
And now, flanked on all sides, my heavily guarded person was carted through the ravine. The men did not chatter around me for two hours once inside the gap, ever watchful for any who passed before us. Unbidden, I recounted how I had embraced Captain Hamish, silently sobbing into his chest. He had run his fingers down my hair and promised the two men’s deaths had not been in vain. They had done what was necessary. I do not remember much, only the relentless adrenaline causing my emotions to boil and spill down my cheeks. I felt disgusted at myself, and yet reassured by Hamish’s words. He had swiftly departed after I had stepped back, looking me over before motioning for Sarah to tend to me, a steaming cup in her hands. He had comforted me well, and yet, I sensed an awkwardness that had not been there previously. As though I had put my hands through an invisible wall. I could not take back my punch, nor could I patch up the hole I had made.
The world around me passed, the landscape covered in grey and yellow stalks of grass, like an aging man’s beard. It was bare and awfully boring, one moment the same as the one a step in time ago. And yet, the tension within my stomach grew, expanding into my chest and shoulders. Sarah looked me over and moved, pressing her fingers expertly into the flesh of my back. Finding her ministrations calming I yawned, allowing her to turn me to face the front and press my head to her lap. Like a mother comforting a child, she began to hum, running her fingers through my wind swept hair. As she stroked I tucked my feet on the seat and closed my eyes, abandoning myself to her tune. It rose and fell with my breathing, allowing the exhaustion and stress to leak from my muscles into the air. Almost without warning I felt myself drift. And like a soothed child, I slept fitfully.
o.O.o
‘Lady Madelaine,’ Sarah whispered in my ear, making a calming gesture at my sharp look. Slowly I detangled myself from her lap, yawning and stretching in the most unladylike manner.
‘We are coming to an inn where we shall ready you for your meeting with the Lord. We will stay the night there. The captain said it was fortunate we live quite west of the land or it would take weeks not days to arrive in the city.’
I nodded absentmindedly at her chatter, pushing away the emotions that readied themselves to be battled with. Sarah watched my face for any sign of being overwhelmed, yet I felt oddly serene about my fate. Being the wife to a Lord made my ego rise and my prospects of life grand. Why make a fuss? Truthfully I am very headstrong, yet this fate I deemed appropriate and hopefully satisfying.
We slipped out of the carriage under the watchful eye of Captain Hamish and the dark skinned William. I had an odd urge to wink at them, a sensation I found amusing. At Sarah’s startled look I realised I was chuckling at myself, made evident by my grin. Working to compose myself, I nodded seriously to the men. I pressed a hand to my mouth as we hurried through the inn’s door, smothering the giggles erupting through my hands.
‘Why do you laugh Lady Madelaine?’ Sarah asked worriedly, ‘are you ill?’
‘No, merely merry,’ I reassured her, ‘I have had my adventure, and I am to take a powerful man as my husband. I have nothing left to want.’
‘As you say,’ she said slowly, turning to call out to the innkeeper. She made all the arrangements when we were away from a household. I was treated like a prized packaged to be ferried carefully through the land. Hidden away within my carriage. I had always hated it. I discovered travelling to and from my grandparents on my father’s side that every journey remained boring and uneventful, almost lazy.
Sarah beckoned to me and I followed her up the wooden stairs, finding my room suitable for my needs and station. Walking towards the window, I settled myself on the ledge and searched below for my men. Smiling, I watched them walk in casual single file to the tavern not far from the inn, turning back to laugh with each other. The deaths had brought them closer, for there was no animosity within the ranks. Rather, a kind of bond that men thrived on. I was green with jealously. I envied their easy sense of being, a station in life that promised adventure and comradeship not to be scorned or belittled. However, my mind twisted to the two dead men buried at the eve of the ravine and was thankful. I would not wish to be buried under layers of earth and flower petals. No matter the kindness from which they rested.
Uneasy thoughts were lost under the hope of soap and water, running my hands down my shoulders as though to wash the memories from my skin. I still sensed phantom arms around me, a shadow of Hamish’s body heat within the hot water. The smell of scented bath salts mingled with the steam until I was bathing in a watery flower garden. It was calming, turning my soft hands as pink and wrinkly as a newborn’s. Sarah sat beside me on a stool beside the bath, moving a comb through my washed hair. She was running oils through it and humming a villager tune. She knew I liked the echoing melody, as a child opening my windows to hear the women sing with each other as they washed in the nearby well connected to a small washing area. Babes were washed with clothing, and as they sang different tunes they intertwined to create something extraordinary. A fitting word – for it was ordinary to them, the different sounds simply a part of life. But for me, a little rich girl with no tune of my own – it created an extra part of my soul. I soon learned all the parts to multiple songs, songs of love and death, happiness and utter mourning sadness. A jumble of tunes like balls of string mixed up with each other. They sang songs of life in all its complexities through one simple tune twisting around another, and another. I realised as a child it was easy on your own, however lonely and missing that ‘extra’ beauty I longed so much to have. It had delighted Sarah, when she sang she soon learned that I could sing the same song with a different tune, she naming it a harmony and not to be sung within the walls of listening ears. Even so, we sang together often in secluded places, bathing places the ideal situation to use my learned talent. Sarah helped to create my secret joy of extraordinary complexity, a being who knew my blinded hawk like past and future – helping me sing within the bars of my bird cage.
I sank my head under the water, seeking to drown the morbid thoughts of freedom and entrapment. I was happy with my station, yet the feeling of a cage never lifted. Contentment is the life you were born to, happiness is the little things it brings. I can be happy if I try.
O.o.O
We walked towards the carriage early the next morning, watching the sun dip and weave between the spring leaves that enveloped the trees. I was dressed in a long navy dress that outlined my figure in a flattering way, a silver necklace flashing against my throat. It had been a monster to put on after the traveling gear I was accustomed to, so many layers and powders to make me look this regal way. Not gaudy and overdressed in frills, bulging necklaces and jumping patterns. Rather, elegant in my simple, elegant style. My mind skipped over the thoughts of ball gowns and shuddered at the image. Why women enjoyed dancing in corsets seemed most dangerous to me, yet amused when they quickly disappeared to powder rooms, running to drench their underskirts and corsets in as much water that they could – without it spreading bruise like to soak the outer dress. I had been known as a powder room lurkier as a young lady in order to catch the drenchers with their red, puffy faces.
I smiled at the memory, realising too late that I was staring directly up into Hamish’s face. To my surprise he smiled back, standing beside the carriage offering a hand into it. I looked around at the soldiers, some with the bags of the sleeplessness under their eyes.
‘Good morning,’ I said cheerfully, taking Hamish’s calloused hand and allowing him to help me into the carriage. William bowed slightly in my direction and the others chorused their greetings at me.
‘Good Morning Lainie,’ Hamish said softly in my ear, startling me to the level of smashing my head into the carriage roof. He chuckled softly, but crocked his head thoughtfully as he searched for a noticeable bruise. His broad shoulders blocked the doorway, hiding my flushing face from spectators. Even so, watching Hamish look me over like a spooked horse was most insulting, very nearly impertinent. Nodding to himself, he helped Sarah inside – her own startled expression enjoyable to watch – and closed the door. The carriage wheels began to move and the inn quickly rolled by out of sight.
Sarah stretched, groaning as her shoulders cracked. ‘What was that about?’ she asked me, pulling a comb from her pocket to run through my hair.
‘I would not know.’
‘He seemed very cheerful, for Hamish. Almost his version of jolly.’
‘Probably happy to see me off,’ I said, surprised by how bitter I felt about it.
‘Are you miffed?’ she laughed, weaving my long hair together with expert, deft fingers.
‘Miffed?!’
‘Agitated,’ she clarified, grinning at my incredulous look.
‘Well yes, I suppose so. I would think our friendship deserved more than delight at dumping me.’
‘Dumping you at the feet of a Lord, not really all that shabby.’
‘Do you think he will say goodbye to me after I formally dismiss him?’
‘He is a peculiar man, perhaps he will and perhaps he will think it best to leave immediately. The fun is finding out which.’
I mumbled something grumpily and she grinned, asking no questions. However there was a dangerous spark in her eyes, indicating she saw something most interesting.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
