Ailsa (A Medieval/Renaissance Romance)

Chapter 4

This chapter almost made me cry. I made the mistake of listening to the piano theme from Titanic as I wrote the last half. Ahh so emotionally draining! I love it! :) Nothing has been edited yet, I'm writing three stories at once and I like to update often so I'm sure I missed a few things. Let me know in the comments section if you see an error.

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Chapter 4

They rode in silence until they left the border's of what was once her father's land. The crumbling stone wall that marked the end of her father's land came into view, informing them that they were now leaving McMillan's territory. Guiding the horse towards a nearby stretch of woods, Arthur stopped the horse beneath a large oak tree and slid down to the ground, helping her dismount as he did. It was still early, barely afternoon, but Arthur looked intent on setting up camp for the night. He was already gathering wood for a fire, so she helped him gather kindling to start it. He set up a bedroll over pine branches, then pulled more branches and made a second bed without blankets. He motioned for her to sit on the bedroll, while he sat on the bare pine branches.

She looked at the ground, unsure of what he intended for her. “Thank ye, my laird. 'Twas kind for ye to think of my instrument back at the castle.” Arthur's face stayed blank as he replied. “It would have been a shame to see yer talent wasted. There's not many people who can play such music.” He poked the fire with a stick, not looking at her. “You're free, ye know. I didnae buy you to keep ye as a slave. Ye can come and go as ye wish, I have yer deed here with me. Without this deed, no one may claim ye as a slave.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket. “Burn it, lass. 'Twas not legal for it to be written in the first place, with ye being freeborn.” His eyes met hers for the first time since the castle. He quickly looked away and busied himself with putting more logs onto the already well fed fire.

Ailsa was shocked. Free? She knew he had bought her, but she thought she would end up a maid at his castle instead. But free? She knew he must have paid a lot of money for her. Why would he do so much without expecting anything in return- She froze. He couldn't think that she would become his lover out of gratitude? “My laird, what was yer purpose in freeing me? I'll not be yer lover, though I am grateful to ye for my freedom,” she said, straightening her slim shoulders as she did. She swore she saw a look of amusement pass over his eyes before he replied.

“Lass, I gave ye yer freedom because no one deserves the kind of life he was forcin' on ye, not to make ye my love slave. No one deserves to be treated so badly, least of all an angel like you. I'll not harm ye in any manner, nor force ye to do anything against yer will.” Ailsa's shoulders relaxed. She was glad to hear that he had no evil intentions, at least none that he was willing to share. Only time would tell if he meant what he said, but something in his eyes made her trust him, even though she had yet to see him genuinely smile.

She looked at him as he continued to tend the fire. His dark eyes had a familiar expression, one she was familiar with. The emptiness that consumed her soul seemed to be consuming him as well. “What are ye running from, that causes yer eyes to be just as pained as mine?” She whispered softly to him. His eyes shot to hers and she could see him flinch, his jaw harden. “I donnae want to talk about it.” Standing, he walked over to the horse and detached a bow. “I'm going to get something for supper. Make yourself comfortable.”

Ailsa knew she should be shocked by his rude response, but after seeing the hurt that lay so deeply in his eyes, she couldn't blame him for wanting his wounds left untouched. “What was done to ye that makes yer heart as sad as mine?” She whispered into the wind.

Then she remembered the deed, which she still held in her clenched hand. She opened it and read the words that had taken her freedom, the words that Angus had hired someone to write after he captured her. According to the deed, Ailsa was a “captured prisoner of war”, and as such she no longer had rights. She stared at the hated words for a long time. Then she slowly crushed the paper between her hands and threw the parchment into the flames, which consumed it hungrily.

She was free now. That chapter of her life was over. But how do you recover from wounds that run so deeply? And what would she do with her life now? She sat with her arms around her knees, resting her chin on them. She had a lot to think about, many decisions to make. But all she felt like doing was crying.

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Arthur growled in frustration as his arrow missed the hare that he was aiming at. He just couldn't seem to concentrate. Ailsa had seen right through his stoic mask, the one that hid his pain from the world. He was good at hiding his feelings; and the few who suspected his pain were too afraid to speak about it. But she saw right into his soul, and pointed out his deep sorrow as though she could read his mind; and then actually said something about it!

Arthur sighed and sat down on a log, putting his head in his hands. There was no use hunting any more that night, he couldn't focus enough to snag even a squirrel. Ailsa had struck something deep inside of himself, something he didn't want anyone getting near. And yet, he didn't hate her for it, as he had hated his family when they dared to speak to him of his grief. Perhaps it was because he could see the deep hurt that lingered in her eyes, too. Maybe she was the first person who could actually understand his pain. But he was nowhere near ready to share it yet.

Straightening, he picked up his bow and started back towards their campsite. He needed to talk to her about where she would be going from here. He had a long journey ahead of him, and he needed to find her a safe place to live that was far from Angus. Even though she was free, he might still try to harm her.

He reached the campsite and saw that she had lain down on the bedroll, her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her long hair spread out on the ground beside her, and her mouth was slightly open as she breathed. He was struck again at her beauty. Even asleep she put most noble women's beauty to shame. He stiffened as he heard her whimper in her sleep, curling into an even smaller ball as though trying to protect herself from something. A single tear slid down her face and she covered her face with her arm as though to block a blow.

Arthur's heart stopped; she was so vulnerable herself, and yet she had cared enough to as him about his pain. His heart broke for her; what horrors she must have gone through!

He pulled a blanket out of his saddlebag and draped it around her shoulders. He sat down next to her and gently stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort till she quieted. He stayed beside her a long time, not noticing that he was drifting off to sleep. He fell asleep with his back against the oak tree, his eyelashes wet with his own tears that he would never let fall.

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