Writers block and school were the two main reasons I did not post any new chapters. Thanks for being so patient with me! It's not much, but something to get the story started again.

Chapter Six

Being jostled around by a pack of loathsome Scottish brutes was not what she had in mind when this new day dawned. After the men became drunk with excitement about Lanark, Wallace placed her in the care of the one called Hamish. A primitive man; he did not talk to her, outside of a grunt or two.

The only good thing about this man was his size. Tall and stout, he offered some measure of protection…she could sense hatred for her in his eyes every he looked at her. No matter.

Though the sun shone bright, a thin layer of fog clung to the ground; cold seeped through her slippers and through her robe, which were both quickly becoming dirty.

"You'd think that when you idiots snatched me, you could at least have brought along some of my decent clothes," Marjory spoke, through chattering teeth.

"Dreadfully sorry, Englishwoman, but fancy dresses don't afford well when you're marching."

"So he speaks." She snorted. "Thought your tongue was cut out or something." She rubbed her arms, the goose-pimpled flesh prickly underneath her hands. God, she wished she was in her house, in her warm bed. Her mind filled with thoughts of escape, and the thoughts remained fresh in her mind.

"I speak when the company is affable." He mumbled some other words, then reached into the large pouch attached to his belt. "Here." He shoved a thick, square bundle at her. "This may shut your mouth."

Glaring at him, she snatched the bundle. "What is this?"

"As William says, 'Ignorance abounds.' It's a blanket. 'Twill keep you warm, lass." Though his comments were gruff, his tone was not.

"Thank you," she said softly, and wrapped the blanket around herself. It was soft, like the robe she was wearing, only thicker and warmer. "This is…really warm."

"Obviously." Hamish screwed up his face, and concentrated on the road ahead; but, when he was sure she couldn't see, he smiled to himself. The first time the Englishwoman showed some modicum of kindness.


Adelaide hummed to herself, as she made her way up the stairs to her lady's room. Though Marjory tended to be a spoiled girl at times, she loved her dearly, as if she were her own daughter. After the Lady Jane, Marjory's mother, passed on, the elderly governess was the closest thing she had to a mother.

She noticed some things moved around in the upstairs hallways…pictures askew on the walls, a few doors left open that were normally always closed, though it did not register in her mind that anything went awry the previous night.

She stopped at Marjory's chamber door, and tapped on it. "Lady, time to rise and shine! Time and tide wait for no one!" No answer. Assuming she was still sleeping, Adelaide opened the door and went into the room. No one. Her room was as silent as a tomb. This, she didn't find strange…often Marjory went on her morning rides in the springtime.

Adelaide prepared a fresh bath and laid out a dress of sapphire blue on the unmade bed, in preparation for her lady's return.


From William's guess, they were now about ten miles from the estate of Bramblebury. Every so often, he would glance at his men. They could have gone on marching for hours, but no man was God. Rest was sorely needed.

At the noon hour, he ordered a brief respite from the walking; enough time for his men to rest, clean themselves in the River Nith, which wound through the forests, and eat, once he had hunted some fresh elk, that is.

Before that, however, he had to check on his most valuable possession at the moment…Marjory Debaye. He whistled to himself as he made his way through the crowd and to Hamish. He sat on the ground, Marjory directly behind him, sleeping and wrapped up in a thick brown wool blanket.

"How's the lass?"

"As you can see, sleeping. Thank God." Hamish laughed quietly, and gave the sign of the cross. "She's much more amiable when she's quiet. Blathered on about being cold, and wanting her fancy clothes. Called us fools for not bringing them. Like we could."

William in turn laughed. "Well, she would be cold, with what she has on, my friend. A robe and slippers aren't quite what one wears to march in…not that she had much of a choice anyway. At least you gave her a blanket."

"My favorite blanket," Hamish grumbled. "Just to shut her mouth."

"Being your usual charming self, Hamish?" Andrew smirked as he passed by the small group on his way to the river.

"Shut your face," he growled, and rose from the ground, stretching his arms over his head. "I'm tired of watching the lass, William."

"You're just going to keep watching her. I actually have something conducive to do…I get to hunt." He ducked under Hamish's arm as Hamish took a swipe at him.

"William!" he roared.

"Sorry! Can't hear you!" William laughed, as he made his way back through the group of men. He needed to find himself a bow and arrow; he knew there was one somewhere. It would make the hunting much easier.