enraged viper over the ground.
“Stand! I’ll shoot, aye?” The man swung the pistol back, squeezed the trigger and…nothing. Wet powder? Worn flint? Matthew didn’t care. The pistol was thrown to the side, the man lunged for his staff, and Matthew flew the last few feet, tackling the man to the ground.
He was screaming now, the brigand, and even more when Matthew flipped him over, dagger raised. Something glinted. Matthew cursed, retracted his head; a knife, a wee blade that narrowly missed his neck. Matthew brought the dagger down. Once, twice and the man shrieked, raising a hand to defend his face. Matthew changed his grip and brought the dirk’s handle down so hard the man flopped and went still, subsiding mid-scream.
From the cave came the younger man, dragging a struggling Alex with him. She did something; her free hand flashed down and with a howl the man let her go, cradling his arm. Not entirely defenceless then, this strange lass.
Matthew pushed himself off the ground, strode over to the younger man and collared him, dragging him choking and gargling to join his companion, sprawled on the grass.
“I told you,” Matthew said. “We have no wish for company. Now go, before I do you more harm.”
A few minutes later they were gone, the younger supporting the elder who was bleeding profusely from his face – as he well deserved. Matthew picked up the staff, worn shiny after years of use, and with a grunt swung it at a nearby boulder. The stave bounced off. Again, and it splintered. Matthew threw it to the side.
“Will they be back?” Alex said, appearing by his side.
“I reckon not.”
“You’re bleeding.” She pointed at his hand.
“No lass, not me. Them.”
“Oh. How hurt are they?”
“They won’t be coming back in a hurry.” He looked over to the two hens left behind by the two rogues. “You like chicken?”
*
Matthew was surprised by her reluctance to help with the birds, her face going pale under her tan when he suggested she gut them now that he’d plucked them. After watching her clumsy attempts he sighed and took over, and a few minutes later the air filled with the scent of roasting meat. Alex didn’t look overly impressed.
“Bread would be nice, and some vegetables, you know, tomatoes.”
Nay, he didn’t know, and he gave her a long look. She stared right back, and to his irritation Matthew broke eye contact first, thinking he’d never seen eyes of that particular shade of dark blue before.
“So,” she said, once they’d finished eating. “Tell me.” He studied his hands, his fingers tracing his wrists.
“I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I escaped and here I am, almost home.”
She huffed and shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t. You tell me the whole story, from the beginning.”
He didn’t want to. Margaret, Luke, they’d betrayed him, allowing him to be condemned for something he hadn’t done.
“Start from the beginning,” she said. “You know, once upon a time…”
He gave her a crooked smile. “This isn’t a fairy tale, this is my life.”
“It’s still a good beginning. That’s what Magnus says.” She sounded sad, eyes on her hands rather than on him. He watched her for some moments, inclined his head and began to talk.
“I’m the eldest of three brothers and one sister,” he said. “Matthew, Mark, Luke and Joan.”
“Very evangelical.”
“Aye, but that’s how it is with my family.”
“So, no Roberts or Richards?”
“Nay, good, biblical names, aye? John, Peter, Martha and the like.”
“Salome?” she teased, but he just shook his head, irritated by her interruption.
“Do you want me to tell you?”
Alex dragged a finger across her lips and nodded for him to go on.
“Mark died when he was ten, of the measles.” He fell quiet and rubbed at his thumb.
“The measles?” Alex echoed. “You die of the measles?”
Was she daft? Everyone knew people – and in particular bairns – were carried off regularly by
“Stand! I’ll shoot, aye?” The man swung the pistol back, squeezed the trigger and…nothing. Wet powder? Worn flint? Matthew didn’t care. The pistol was thrown to the side, the man lunged for his staff, and Matthew flew the last few feet, tackling the man to the ground.
He was screaming now, the brigand, and even more when Matthew flipped him over, dagger raised. Something glinted. Matthew cursed, retracted his head; a knife, a wee blade that narrowly missed his neck. Matthew brought the dagger down. Once, twice and the man shrieked, raising a hand to defend his face. Matthew changed his grip and brought the dirk’s handle down so hard the man flopped and went still, subsiding mid-scream.
From the cave came the younger man, dragging a struggling Alex with him. She did something; her free hand flashed down and with a howl the man let her go, cradling his arm. Not entirely defenceless then, this strange lass.
Matthew pushed himself off the ground, strode over to the younger man and collared him, dragging him choking and gargling to join his companion, sprawled on the grass.
“I told you,” Matthew said. “We have no wish for company. Now go, before I do you more harm.”
A few minutes later they were gone, the younger supporting the elder who was bleeding profusely from his face – as he well deserved. Matthew picked up the staff, worn shiny after years of use, and with a grunt swung it at a nearby boulder. The stave bounced off. Again, and it splintered. Matthew threw it to the side.
“Will they be back?” Alex said, appearing by his side.
“I reckon not.”
“You’re bleeding.” She pointed at his hand.
“No lass, not me. Them.”
“Oh. How hurt are they?”
“They won’t be coming back in a hurry.” He looked over to the two hens left behind by the two rogues. “You like chicken?”
*
Matthew was surprised by her reluctance to help with the birds, her face going pale under her tan when he suggested she gut them now that he’d plucked them. After watching her clumsy attempts he sighed and took over, and a few minutes later the air filled with the scent of roasting meat. Alex didn’t look overly impressed.
“Bread would be nice, and some vegetables, you know, tomatoes.”
Nay, he didn’t know, and he gave her a long look. She stared right back, and to his irritation Matthew broke eye contact first, thinking he’d never seen eyes of that particular shade of dark blue before.
“So,” she said, once they’d finished eating. “Tell me.” He studied his hands, his fingers tracing his wrists.
“I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I escaped and here I am, almost home.”
She huffed and shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t. You tell me the whole story, from the beginning.”
He didn’t want to. Margaret, Luke, they’d betrayed him, allowing him to be condemned for something he hadn’t done.
“Start from the beginning,” she said. “You know, once upon a time…”
He gave her a crooked smile. “This isn’t a fairy tale, this is my life.”
“It’s still a good beginning. That’s what Magnus says.” She sounded sad, eyes on her hands rather than on him. He watched her for some moments, inclined his head and began to talk.
“I’m the eldest of three brothers and one sister,” he said. “Matthew, Mark, Luke and Joan.”
“Very evangelical.”
“Aye, but that’s how it is with my family.”
“So, no Roberts or Richards?”
“Nay, good, biblical names, aye? John, Peter, Martha and the like.”
“Salome?” she teased, but he just shook his head, irritated by her interruption.
“Do you want me to tell you?”
Alex dragged a finger across her lips and nodded for him to go on.
“Mark died when he was ten, of the measles.” He fell quiet and rubbed at his thumb.
“The measles?” Alex echoed. “You die of the measles?”
Was she daft? Everyone knew people – and in particular bairns – were carried off regularly by
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