The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) by Ashley York Page A
Authors: Ashley York
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gates. There was no one left alive, and if Seumas did not leave this way of life, he would soon join them.
He gave his horse its lead. It knew the way back to the castle. A plan formed as he relaxed in his saddle. He would resign and gladly return his wages to Lord Bryon. The man was greedy beyond reason. He had to pay for loyalty because he treated those under his control so cruelly. He did not know how to garner respect from his men, only how to order them around. Seumas had turned a blind eye to the mistreatments he had witnessed, had chosen to stay in the castle, which made him as guilty as Bryon. That was something he thought he had left behind with the rest of his memories of his pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
The Crusade.
Seumas had heard the stories about that first papal-inspired pilgrimage ever since he was a little boy. At his grandfather’s knee, he had imagined the call from the Pope to the noblemen, the battles and hardships that ensued, and the triumph of winning back Jerusalem from the infidels. That had been a noble fight. He had wanted the same thing, but his experience had been quite a bit different.
In the spring of 1147, Seumas had answered the call of Pope Eugenius III for the Second Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He had left Portsmouth, England with a mixed group of men full of passion and righteousness—aside from Stephen, the greedy, silver-tongued lord who led them.
They met the first battle at the siege of Lisbon. After three months, the men Seumas had held in such high regard walked away loaded down with riches they had taken. Stephen had encouraged them. Although he had enticed many noblemen to his side with words like “defending” and “honoring,” he actually believed slaughter and pillage was their right. The idea that God created the world and everything in it seemed a lesson the man had missed.
Seumas often wondered if Stephen’s story would have changed had they found Christians along the way. He could not help but believe the man would have justified slaughtering them as well. There was no stopping Stephen’s ambitions. He was not a follower of God, but Seumas found that out far too late. Young and naïve, he had been filled with the righteousness of God but led by an avaricious man.
Shame filled his heart as memories assailed him. Once, he had been able to come before God, with all his unworthiness, and experience His sweet grace…but now, after the atrocities he had allowed and been involved in, he could not even imagine the possibility that God still loved him. Seumas’s life no longer had meaning. The injury that had left him impotent was of little consequence compared to the punishment he deserved. And yet… He would take no wife, have no children, but perhaps he could still fill his life with purpose and honor. Perhaps God was offering him grace.
Seumas took in the beauty of the forest around him, the glistening patches of early frost among the fallen leaves that crunched beneath him. The mavis’s song grew more distinct, filling the space around him, resonating within him. Yes, it would do him well to leave this life behind and start anew. He hoped he could find the courage and wisdom to do so.
Chapter 9
Iseabail leaned against the barn. The sun warmed her face, and the cold spell from the night before faded into a slight chill. The sweet smell of hay surrounded her. Calum played on the slope in front of her. The horses in the barn munched loudly on their breakfast of oats and hay. She closed her eyes to enjoy the moment of stolen peace.
With a deep, relaxing breath, she worked to push all her concerns away. Unbidden, Seumas’s piercing blue eyes and broad smile stole into her mind. He was a very handsome man, and the memory of resting her head on his shoulder as she slept caused her heart to skip a beat. In bed with a man who was not her brother? And he had not even had his way with her? Iain would never believe it. He would surely have had the man’s
He gave his horse its lead. It knew the way back to the castle. A plan formed as he relaxed in his saddle. He would resign and gladly return his wages to Lord Bryon. The man was greedy beyond reason. He had to pay for loyalty because he treated those under his control so cruelly. He did not know how to garner respect from his men, only how to order them around. Seumas had turned a blind eye to the mistreatments he had witnessed, had chosen to stay in the castle, which made him as guilty as Bryon. That was something he thought he had left behind with the rest of his memories of his pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
The Crusade.
Seumas had heard the stories about that first papal-inspired pilgrimage ever since he was a little boy. At his grandfather’s knee, he had imagined the call from the Pope to the noblemen, the battles and hardships that ensued, and the triumph of winning back Jerusalem from the infidels. That had been a noble fight. He had wanted the same thing, but his experience had been quite a bit different.
In the spring of 1147, Seumas had answered the call of Pope Eugenius III for the Second Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He had left Portsmouth, England with a mixed group of men full of passion and righteousness—aside from Stephen, the greedy, silver-tongued lord who led them.
They met the first battle at the siege of Lisbon. After three months, the men Seumas had held in such high regard walked away loaded down with riches they had taken. Stephen had encouraged them. Although he had enticed many noblemen to his side with words like “defending” and “honoring,” he actually believed slaughter and pillage was their right. The idea that God created the world and everything in it seemed a lesson the man had missed.
Seumas often wondered if Stephen’s story would have changed had they found Christians along the way. He could not help but believe the man would have justified slaughtering them as well. There was no stopping Stephen’s ambitions. He was not a follower of God, but Seumas found that out far too late. Young and naïve, he had been filled with the righteousness of God but led by an avaricious man.
Shame filled his heart as memories assailed him. Once, he had been able to come before God, with all his unworthiness, and experience His sweet grace…but now, after the atrocities he had allowed and been involved in, he could not even imagine the possibility that God still loved him. Seumas’s life no longer had meaning. The injury that had left him impotent was of little consequence compared to the punishment he deserved. And yet… He would take no wife, have no children, but perhaps he could still fill his life with purpose and honor. Perhaps God was offering him grace.
Seumas took in the beauty of the forest around him, the glistening patches of early frost among the fallen leaves that crunched beneath him. The mavis’s song grew more distinct, filling the space around him, resonating within him. Yes, it would do him well to leave this life behind and start anew. He hoped he could find the courage and wisdom to do so.
Chapter 9
Iseabail leaned against the barn. The sun warmed her face, and the cold spell from the night before faded into a slight chill. The sweet smell of hay surrounded her. Calum played on the slope in front of her. The horses in the barn munched loudly on their breakfast of oats and hay. She closed her eyes to enjoy the moment of stolen peace.
With a deep, relaxing breath, she worked to push all her concerns away. Unbidden, Seumas’s piercing blue eyes and broad smile stole into her mind. He was a very handsome man, and the memory of resting her head on his shoulder as she slept caused her heart to skip a beat. In bed with a man who was not her brother? And he had not even had his way with her? Iain would never believe it. He would surely have had the man’s
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