"Come on boy keep moving Mr. Francis is not paying you to stand around and do nothing." Aaron groaned a little resisting the urge to shoot some choice words at the man, instead he muttered under his breath,
"no…with the wages I'm makin' taint worth a bleedin' whole lot 'tany way. Migh' as well be paid to stand and do nothin' with what 'e's payin' me" he finished, glaring at the man before continuing to pick the cotton walking along the rows along with his fellow hired workers.
They had been out collecting the cotton since dawn that morning, five hours later they were still on the same row they had begun on. The hot South Carolina sun beat down upon them, and Aaron felt his thin shirt sticking to his sweat soaked back he was drowning in sweat and it wasn't even noon yet.
He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead before looking around. The owner of the farm James Francis, walked by on his horse and didn't even give him a second glance, not that Aaron cared as long as he got his wages as pathetic as they were, that was all that mattered.
"Psst, Aaron," a boy named William, who by looks was a few years older than Aaron, maybe 16 or 17, who Aaron had become friends with; whispered to him from the next row over, he was a tall boy, who towered over most of the adults he had been born in the colony and didn't mind the heat, unlike Aaron used to the cold temperatures of Scotland.
"Aye?" Aaron replied looking over at him.
"How you getting along?"
"Not as good as you apparently, this heat is murderous, I would be more than finished by now if I didn't need to be keep wipin' me brow to preven' from drownin' in me own sweat."
"Tis not that bad,"
"Tis when yer used to cold," Aaron retorted as if daring William to give him a reply to that.
"You would think you would be used to the heat by now Aaron, you've been working for Mr. Francis for a month now."
"A whole bleedin' month doesn't change the way a person's body reacts to 'ot and cold, takes longer then that. And I'm Scottish 'ighland born and bred; a cold day 'ere is like a summer day there." William shuddered at the thought.
"Tis unthinkable how could you stand it?"
"T'isnt unthinkable for me or me fellow Scots tis our 'ome, so we are 'custom to i-" Aaron stopped short hearing an out of place noise from in the surrounding forest.
"What? What's wrong?"
"I 'ear somethin',"
"What something I did not hear anything,"
"Where is the closes' farm?"
"A good days journey on foot, half a day by horse depending on the horse." William said laughing a little, Aaron groaned at his friend's sad attempt at a joke.
"Are Mr. Francis and that farmer on good terms?"
"Depends on what you mean by good terms why?"
"I think there is someone 'idin' in the woods, watchin' us, the air it feels 'eavy, I think we are 'bou' to be 'bushed."
"Don't be daft,"
"I'm not bein' daf, 'bushes were common in the 'ighlands from neighboring clans, you never 'ad warnin' when they were comin', I know what that air feels like and it feels like tis now!" William still looked skeptical
"Who would attack us tis just a simple cotton plantati-" William never finished his sentence as an arrow flew out of the trees and imbedded itself in his heart killing him instantly.
"William!" Aaron said and dove at his friend as his lifeless body hit the ground, even though he knew there was nothing he could do. More arrows flew from the trees, nailing everyone people and animals alike.
Aaron watched in horror as one arrow flew past him and pierced Mr. Francis's horse, the animal fell to the ground landing in a dusty cloud, Mr. Francis was trapped underneath the horse. Aaron ran over to the fallen man, but he stopped a foot or two away from him. He had little respect for the man, partly for his low wages and partly for the reason that in addition to paid workers picking his cotton, he also had a number of blacks that he had purchased at auction long before Aaron had started; a few hundred in the fields and a few more working as house servants.
Aaron had no respect for a man who owned another, no matter how well they were treated, it didn't change the fact that they were just property, someone had kidnapped them from their homeland, dragged across the ocean to a strange land, sold and forced to work for no money for long exhausting days, knowing that at any moment they could be sold away from their families.
It made Aaron sick, coming to the Americas had opened his eyes to a world he had previously allowed himself to be blind to and a part of him wished he could be blind to it again.
For a second he considered just leaving Mr. Francis trapped under his dead horse, to run and see if he could help anyone else anyone else who deserved to be helped. But just as he had been about to turn around and do just that, all the teachings he had received living with the Brothers at the Monastery flashed before him, and the teachings that Christianity had taught him,
(flashback within a flashback)
"Remember Aaron, no matter what, it is important to never turn your back on those in need, you may despise them as a human being, they may have done something so terrible that you feel they do not deserve to be helped, but they are still just that a human being a child of God, if they are lost then it our job to help them right? It is not our position to judge the sins of others it is God's and if he can forgive anyone, then we must do the same, God entrusted us with the ability to forgive, by not using that gift or using it only on certain beings then the gift he has given us is being wasted."
"I suppose,"
"You just suppose?"
"Tis 'ard to understand. 'ow can you 'elp a person if they do not wish to be 'elped?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well a person who is so far gone, willingly does thin' that are not righ' not righ' by God an' not righ' by man, are they not refusin' 'elp?"
"They have strayed my young friend, that is what has happened, and not having anyone who is willing to lend a hand is what pushes them even more so, until it's nearly impossible for them to change."
"So people can be changed?" Aaron has asked very confused
"Yes, and I am not just speaking as a member of this monastery or as a wearer of the cloth, I am speaking as a man just a man. If you help someone in need who denies that they need that help, they may very well turn around and in turn help someone else, it is an everlasting cycle, such as the way the seasons change or the sun journeys across the sky turning night from day and day from night. Remember what is written? The Lord never turned away from anyone the sick, the dying, rich, poor, very young or very old no one was ever excluded from his grace and we as his followers must do the same. Do you understand now Aaron?"
"Aye Brother Bernard, I 'lieve so"
"It will come with time, when you are older you will understand that all I have taught you applies within life you may not believe that at the moment, but that is because you are young, once you have grown and have experiences in the world it will be easier to understand."
"What if I do not want to see the world, I am 'appy in the world I am in at the moment, tis me 'ome, Scotland is me 'ome, she's 'part of me"
"Ah and she always will be, no matter where you journey to, Scotland is in your blood she is apart of you, that will never change because you are a son of Scotland her child to which she will always cradle to her bosom. Yes Scotland is right at the moment Aaron your home and yes you are happy and content here, however I can see it in your eyes, you have the heart of the faithful, but your soul is that of a wanderer and your inner strength is that of a warrior, that is your true calling to wander and see the worlds wonders, I know you will go far Aaron you will journey the world and see things that others will only dream about. This is the future I predict for you can you not see it within yourself?" Aaron had shaken his head,
"I do not Brother, I do not see me future 'tall," Bernard had smiled and patted Aaron's shoulders gently.
"You will, you will see it I promise you that you have a long life ahead of you and you will see so many things that I will not and you will experience many things that people can only dream of."
Aaron could never figure out if Bernard had been just using that as the fact that he was only a child and as far as he knew Aaron did have a the rest of his childhood and then adult life to experience as much as his life time would allow, or if Bernard really did know about Aaron's immortality and was pointing out the fact that he had a very long time on the earth.
Bernard had just smiled at him and had gone back to his writing, forcing Aaron to return to his chores, before the head brother, Paul, came looking for him to find out what was taking Aaron so long to fetch a simple bucket.
What Bernard had told him echoed through his mind and he knew that Bernard had been right, and Aaron knew that he had to at least try and help Mr. Francis.
"Please help me; I must get to the house." Aaron knew what was so important in the house, it wasn't documents or gold; it was the Francis family, his wife and three children; the oldest a girl about his age named Margaret, who would constantly ride by Aaron while he was working and pretend not to notice him, but would quietly smile at him.
Aaron was convinced it had something to do with the flower that he had picked up for her, it had fallen out of her bonnet and she had taken it shyly when he handed it to her. There was another daughter about six or seven named Elizabeth and the youngest was a boy about four named Thomas.
Dodging the flying arrows and ignoring the screams of those around him dying, Aaron ran over to the fallen horse and tried desperately to help Mr. Francis out from under her, he wasn't strong enough to do so, but he had to at least try.
Suddenly Aaron felt someone grab him around his chest and lift him away from Mr. Francis.
"'ere let go of me, ge' yer bloody 'ands off of me!" Aaron shouted struggling to get loose, but whoever held him was strong, much stronger then him. One Indian walked in front of him and dragged Mr. Francis out from under the horse and Aaron could only stare in shock.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Francis said loudly, another Indian came out from the woods and walked over to Mr. Francis, he began talking in a strange tongue that neither Aaron nor Mr. Francis understood.
The Indian speaking to Mr. Francis seemed to get frustrated with Mr. Francis's lack of understanding or perhaps it was Mr. Francis's hostile tone, either way he took offense to it and slapped Mr. Francis hard across the face.
Aaron's mouth dropped open in shock for a second, before he heard more screaming coming from the house, both he and Mr. Francis looked, servants both black and white came streaming out of the house, followed closely by Mrs. Francis who was holding Elizabeth in her arms and a hand clutching Margaret's, and an old black woman who carried Thomas.
Following directly behind them was even more Indians, they surrounded the group of people and held each of them.
"Ann!" Mr. Francis screamed at the top of his lungs, "look please just take whatever livestock you want, you can have it all, just take what you require and leave." The Indian looked at Mr. Francis then at his family.
"Require…Land…require return of blood spilt, of lives lost…" he stated simply in English and nodded, with that one nod, the Francis family and all the servants that had run out of the house had their throats slit, they all simultaneity crumbled to the ground. With another nod, the Indian holding Mr. Francis did the same to him, Aaron paled at seeing this, he had seen death and people die that way, but for some reason this time was worse then any other time. He looked around the plantation, everyone was dead, even the animals lay dead.
He wasn't sure how, but somehow he managed to free himself from the Indian that held him before his own throat would have been cut.
The minute he hit the ground he took off running towards the cabins where the hands bunked. There were shouts from the Indians and Aaron could hear them running behind him and he could feel the breeze of arrows flying past his head. He slammed into the door of the bunkhouse and threw it open, diving towards his corner of the large room, under his mattress lay his belongings; his sword, his cross, and the piece of cloth cut from his father's tartan.
Aaron grabbed these things threw them into a small sack that he had brought over from England with him and made a dash for the back part of the house, which had a loose board providing a hole, just large enough for the small boy to fit through.
The woods were only 10 yards away, he could make it easily and if he ran fast enough, he could disappear into the woods; he wouldn't stop running until he either passed out or came to another farm to warn them of what had just happened
He wiggled through and started running again, his hand wrapped tightly around the rope holding the bag. He was almost to the woods when he heard the whoosh of an arrow, felt a sharp pierce in his back, and felt his world go black.
Like all immortals and being unable to control when they would revive, Aaron always tried to drag himself to a inconspicuous secluded area so no one would see a dead boy coming back to life suddenly. Back then, he had three great fears about dying; the first being the obvious, that he was going lose his head, and instead of being welcomed at the Gates of Saint Peter crossing into heaven seeing his mother and all those who had died before him welcoming him in; he was going to be damned and sent directly to hell right to Lucifer himself for all the evil he had committed in his life.
The second fear was that a mortal was going to witness his reviving and either think that he was the Savior returned and treat him as such or think he was evil and try and kill him again possibly succeeding.
Or three, someone was going to feel it was their Christian duty to give him a proper burial and bury him six feet in the earth and he'd be trapped in there, slowly suffocating to death, only to wake up and face the same thing over and over until he finally freed himself from the grave type prison.
Unfortunately, Aaron's second fear was about to come to pass. He took a fast gasp of breath as if waking up from a dream that left him with an evil feeling over him, but not with the memory of the dream itself; feeling life enter his body once again, he hated reviving, sometimes he felt it was worse than actually dying.
Quickly, he looked around praying that no one saw him. The first thing he saw was smoke rising from where the house stood, more smoke from the fields, and the crackling of flames behind him.
Aaron felt his heart speed up as he remembered what had happened, Indians attacking them, killing everyone, slitting the throats of the Francis family and the house servants, trying to escape to the woods and being taken down by something.
He reached behind him trying to find the arrow that had pierced him, but didn't find anything, however looking down at his raggedy shirt told him what he needed to know about the whereabouts of the arrow it had gone right through his skinny body, the hole in the front of his shirt and the blood that stained it was the proof well at least he didn't have to worry about that.
He groaned as he tried to stand, the smell of the burning wood, fields….and the stench of burning flesh…the bodies that lay where they had fallen were being burned, filling the humid air with the horrid smell, causing him to gag and vomit. He stayed on his hands and knees for a few moments taking a deep breath trying to recollect himself; praying he wouldn't do that again.
"Bloody bastards!" Aaron said softly slowly taking deep breaths trying to calm down, standing up slowly he looked trying to find the attackers. A part of him hoping they were long gone and another part of him wishing they were right there so they could see that he was not someone to anger.
Suddenly there were shouts, and Aaron could hear the fear in those voices and even though he didn't understand their words he had a pretty good guess as to what they were saying. The rope attached to his bag was still tied tightly around his hand, he wrapped his arms around it hugging it close to him. He was just about to run when an arrow landed in front of him stopping him.
He jumped back away from the arrow in shock; he heard someone behind him and swung his bag at the person. This only succeeded in tripping and falling to the ground. When he looked up he was surrounded by the savages, they were staring at him, whispering to one another in shocked almost fearful voices.
Someone picked him up and lifted him to his feet, they spoke some more, the tones of some of them changed while others remained the same. They seemed to be arguing about something and he could only presume it was him, and though he couldn't understand their words, their tones and the motions of their hands gave him a clue.
The Indian holding him spoke loudly to the one that had slit Mr. Francis's throat who in turn pointed at Aaron and with his hands dismissed whatever the one holding him spoke of. Aaron's eyes widened and he began to struggle when another Indian brought out a knife, he knew what was coming and couldn't believe it was going to happen, he prayed in Gaelic under his breath as the Indian holding him tightened his hold, then took Aaron's left arm in his hands and held it out, before he knew what was happening, the Indian holding the knife slit his palm, blood began trickling out of the fresh wound and splattering to the ground.
Aaron's breathing quickened as he bit his lip ignoring the pain, and his struggling intensified even though he knew it was pointless. All the Indians stared at his palm, Aaron closed his eyes knowing what was about to come.
The minute his palm healed itself, the shouts began, all the Indians began talking fast and shouting. Suddenly Aaron was picked up and carried over to an Indian on a horse, who lifted him up and galloped off. His whole body felt numb and then it felt as if he was not apart of his body, it felt like he was watching all of this from someplace else, someplace far, far away and as they galloped off through the woods, Aaron felt fear grip his body, wondering what was going to happen to him.
Aaron sat up with a start, he shivered as cold sweat covered his entire body, as he looked around trying to remember where he was. This only took a few seconds as a moonbeam shone in the loft…mainly on the bloody fish tank, where the large fish was staring at him, unmoving.
Aaron ran his hand through his hair and sighed, he remembered when the Creeks had kidnapped him, he remembered it very well. He was with them for a year…a year of being tied up in a dark hut, a year of desperate escape attempts, resulting in him being killed and recaptured. The Creeks were in awe over him, they feared him, but not enough to let him go.
They saw him as a way to scare their enemies and…Aaron cringed at the memory, and at one point they had even believed his blood to be the secrete of his immortality, which led to the medicine man of the tribe drinking his blood, only to discover that this did not bring about immortality, thankfully that put a stop to the process of taking his blood, but it didn't put a stop to his confinement…
Now Aaron brought his knees up to his chest, as another shiver went down his body, in fact…he didn't know how long he would've been a captive, had Ten Bears and his tribe not attacked the Creek village, and had Ten Bears not released him and taken him to his own village to recover.
He took a deep breath and pulled the blanket back around him tightly, filling his mind of his Cherokee family, who had loved him so fiercely hundreds of years prior…and as sleep retook him, Aaron's last thought, made him grin, it was to remind himself to ask Connor to put a towel or something over that fish tank…because he was losing the staring match to the fish and it was bloody creeping him out.