Thanks to all of your reviews. :) Here is chapter three.

Note: to all of you wanting to know where Bramblebury "is", the estate rests near the town of Annan, Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland. William's hometown is Lanark, in Lanarkshire, Scotland.

Chapter Three

Besides her morning ride, the day had been a rather boring one for Marjory. She broke the fast, then spent the rest of the day with Adelaide in her lavish room, "learning the finer points of being a lady." To her governess, that meant reading and sewing, then more reading and more sewing. Reading she didn't mind; sewing, she detested. Why would she need to know how to sew clothes in the future? Wasn't that a servant's job?

"It's practicality," she always said, but Marjory had a hard time believing her. She was a lady, for heaven's sake. Soon, her father would betroth her in marriage to some English nobleman of his choosing; they'd set up housekeeping at his estate; she'd bear him children, and the servants would do all the sewing. Once she was married, she vowed never to lift a needle again.

She never felt so happy when she noticed the sunset through her chamber window, violet and pink hues dancing across the stone floor.

"Finally," she said, putting down the absurd needlepoint Adelaide bade her stitch--bluebirds and ribbons. "This day is over."

Adelaide raised a brow. "Yes, this day is over; but tomorrow, it all begins again."

"Joy and rapture." She stood, yawning. "I wish to retire now." Her governess moved to the wardrobe to fetch her nightclothes.

"Adelaide!" Despite her girth, she stopped abruptly in midstride.

"Yes, miss?"

"I can dress myself. Be that as it may, I am no longer a child, though you and Father constantly treat me like one!"

She stiffly bowed. "Apologies, my lady. I bid you good night."

"Good night." Her eyes followed the old woman as she crossed to the door, shutting it quietly. Marjory shook her head, and smiled. Despite all of her shortcomings, she couldn't help loving her governess. She reminded her of a grandmother, with her grayish hair always tightly plaited and pinned, thin-lensed glasses, and pudgy build.

All thoughts of Adelaide aside, she prepared for bed. 'Twas a ritual for her: first, she removed her slippers and placed them on the floor by her wardrobe; then, she stepped out of her dress, discarding it whereever--on the floor, by the fireplace hearth, near the bed. It left her in her thin white shift, which she covered with a soft bedrobe, spun from lamb's wool. She would then sit by the hearth and read, usually letters that her father had sent her. Tonight was one such night.

The letter had come two days past. As of its' arrival, her father had been away for two months, and she missed him terribly. The fire's light danced across the floors and walls, warming her as she lost herself in the letter...

27 April, 1297

My dear Marjory:

I trust this letter finds you well.

I apologize that I've been away for so long, but the Scottish rebellion is becoming much more of a nuisance than we thought it would be.

William Wallace and his band of rebels killed a small group of about ten English soldiers in his hometown of Lanark; what the reason, I am not sure. Some say it was about a catching of fish, others say it was to avenge the desecration of his father and brother's grave. Still others say that it was to avenge his wife. There are so many stories, and King Edward is livid. His motto as far as Wallace goes is this: "Strike hard, before Wallace gains a larger flock of loyal Scottish followers." I agree with him. A shepard is not dangerous if he does not have a flock to lead.

I don't know how long 'twill take for us to crush the Scottish back under our heel, but hopefully 'twill be in the next few weeks. Then I can be home with you again, my daughter.

Take care on your morning rides. Talk is that the forests surrounding certain towns are crawling with miscreants and outlaws.

Till I see you again, I remain,

Your loving father


His long hours of waiting came to a close at sunset, the pale violet of the sky giving way to the black of the evening. William and his men kept a sharp eye on Bramblebury all day; he was surprised, to say the least. They neither made their living with sheep, nor farming--the fields full of wheat, and void of workers. He didn't expect less from the Englishman...wealth right in front of them--even the river teemed with fish. Debaye had all the wealth, the wealth God provided, and he failed to see it. The only signs of activity: the Debaye woman in the morning, and soft candlelight flickering in the windows this eve. Nothing else.

"Alright, then." He stood once more, brushing bits of damp moss off his legs, and turned to face his men. "'Tis time." Pointing to Hamish and Andrew to come with him, he told the rest of his men to "remain in the forest. Stay out of sight, stay silent. Once we have the girl, I will tell you of our next course of action."

"Aye!" The voices of his men, though soft, were nonetheless affirming. William nodded in turn, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, his face becoming wreathed in shadow. Only his pale blue eyes showed.

It did not take long for the three to reach the borders of the forest. Once they did, he held up a hand, signaling his two companions to stop. He could not see them, but could feel their presence--Hamish flanked his left; Andrew, his right.

"Let me go o'er the plan again, lads. We will steal into the estate. The front would be the best place to enter--"

"I highly doubt," Hamish snorted, "that we can knock on the front door and ask them to let us in. Won't happen."

William sighed. "My friend, I know you doubt this mission. We have done a mission, two, in fact, like this one. Both successes."

"They were just two piss-ant English nobles, Will, and only for a few sacks of coins, for food and a few weapons. This is the daughter of John Debaye, in case you've forgotten! Edward's best general!"

"No, I'm quite aware. That is why we are here, Hamish. The money we can receive from the Debaye woman's capture will more than fund our outfit, and supply them all with better weapons, better armor."

"Aah." Hamish shook his head, and grumbled to himself, a few words escaping. "...damn mission not going to work..."

"As I was saying, the front would be the best place to enter, but it is too conspicuous. All estates have a servant's entrance, clearly marked. That's the way we should take. Once we enter, Hamish, you will head to the left wing, investigating any rooms there. Andrew, you have the right wing. I will search the upstairs. Whichever one of us finds her first, we will--"

"Hold our hand over her mouth just long enough to rob her of consciousness," Andrew supplied.

Right. We are not to kill her."


Marjory woke with a start, her eyes roaming the darkness of the room. The letter she held in her hands fell to the floor unnoticed.

"Oh. The fire's out. Nothing more." Was this the reason for the sudden chill that racked her entire body?

She wasn't so certain. A good night's sleep would put her to right; things always looked better in the light of the morning.


"It's time, men." He pointed to the wheaten fields. "We make for the fields. Try not to venture out into the open. Keep under cover. The night is our friend."