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The next month, I could tell our family was not doing well. In sense of crops and the impending tax, we were falling behind. We didn’t know what would happen if the tax wasn’t paid on time, but we had a feeling we didn’t want to find out, either.
Right at that time, I noticed our neighbor harboring around our house and visiting more often than not. That man had a son my age and he wanted to marry him. The intent behind his visitations was clear to me: he wanted me to marry his son.
We Scotts do this marvelous dance of engagement, a coy show of showing off and hiding at the same time. As I knew what was happening, and I knew the man’s son, I suddenly felt angry. The duty of a true Scott towards our family was greater than anything else, but marrying that boy was something I couldn’t see myself do. I simply despised that man and wanted nothing to do with him. The man was a drunk and had no respect towards his mother. Every Scott knew if a man doesn’t respect his own mother, he will never respect his wife. As I pleaded my case in front of my parents, my mother kept her head down, sobbing quietly as my father was holding his spoon midair, simply staring at me.
“We thought it may come to this.” – Father exhaled, letting out a deep and tired sigh.
I slowly nodded, not sure if they were listening to me.
“Amelia, you know we are not able to pay the tax this month. It’s simply not possible. So, in order for us to fulfill our duty we have two options: one marry you to the neighbors’ son or two: give you to the McKenzie’s as a payment.” – Father’s eyes were frigid as he was looking at me. I knew he wanted me to marry the man, but I couldn’t.
“So be it. I will be the payment for this month.” – I said coldly as my mother burst in tears.
Father didn’t remove his eyes from me: “Child, we can’t protect you in that castle over there. You may be a handmaiden, a kitchen worker or simply a bed warmer.”
I saw his eyes sank at that last word. Father was scared I would become a whore. On the other side, his family name ended with me so whatever became of me meant continuation or death to the family lineage. I nodded and looked down: “Father I will not disappoint you.”
He stood up and very slowly, step by step walked towards me. Our little cottage was lit by a single candle and the shadows in the room made him appear terrifying. I was sure he was going to hit me but once I saw his face I realized: he was just as torn as I was. Father hugged me and let out a sob: the first and last time I’ve ever heard him crying.
Chapter 3
That week before the tax collection, the tension in our house could be cut with a knife. My usual courage was melting all of a sudden as I was faced with the cold reality: I was leaving home, a mere girl of 18, to join the Clan without knowing what would happen of me.
As the day finally came, we saw the tax collectors walk into our village. The accountant, two assistants – distant McKenzie cousins and the youngest McKenzie were present. People lined up in front of them, a steady, quiet line, a familiar line, a line all of us had grown up in.
Father decided to wait, wanting to be the last in line, to spend those last few moments with me. He was holding my hand very tightly as if he was saying there was still time to change my mind. I saw the other people looking at us, they all knew what was happening. Most of them would simply look down at the ground, scared that just by looking at out misfortune the same would behold them, and some were whispering around, pointing at us, as if judging our decision.
As I was standing in line, walking step by step to my doom, I realized I was different from all the other girls around me. I was tall with long black hair, a pretty face that managed to stay gentle besides the work in the crops. I was prettier than most of them and it came to no surprise as I realized the people that were whispering were the girls my age, judging me, speaking ill of me although I hadn’t done anything wrong.
That wait in the line was the longest wait of my life. As it was finally our turn, I couldn’t keep my head up. Father approached the accountant, his hat in his hands, his whole demeanor apologetic. He was speaking quietly, whispering his ill fortune to the accountant who sat there not knowing what to do.
Finally, the accountant nodded, looked at me and smiled. He took a piece of paper and wrote the tax acceptance letter to father. As he gave him the paper, father reached out to take it, his hands shaking.
“Don’t worry old man, we will take good care of your daughter.” – The accountant said as father took the note and left, leaving me behind not even turning back to look at me again.
Something in the accountant’s voice told me he was speaking the truth. As I was standing in front of him, my heart racing and my head still down, I felt reassured and somehow, strong.
“Come child. It’s time for us to leave.” – The accountant said, standing up and moving towards the carriage. The two McKenzie cousins quickly joined us, laughingly asking me all sorts of questions, but my head was in turmoil and I simply didn’t even hear what they were saying.
“Is she retarded? Can’t she speak?” – They were asking the accountant who simply waved his hand at them: “Lads leave her alone. That’s an order.”
The youngest McKenzie was quietly walking behind us. I appreciated him not asking anything and somehow I felt closer to him. As the accountant helped me into the carriage, he was speaking to me:
“I know this is scary child. But trust me, you are in good hands. The McKenzies are not monsters. You will be fine.”
I kept silent for almost the whole day. As night came, we had to stop in a meadow below some tall trees for protection.
“This is where we dine and sleep tonight.” – The youngest McKenzie said, and everyone listened to him.
As the night continued, I noticed the leader of this group was the youngest McKenzie, not the accountant. Scott McKenzie, the youngest McKenzie brother, was tall, muscular and very well built. He had long hair and a bushy beard the color of caramel and his eyes were big and deep, almost grey. He didn’t speak much but whenever he had something to say, everyone listened to him. His voice was deep and almost rough, but reassuring at the same time. He was stern and manly, a rock of a man, with a horrible scar that started at his neck but you couldn’t see the end from his clothes.
As we sat in a circle close to a fire eating roasted rabbit, I felt tired, more tired than I’ve ever been in my life. I wanted to go back to my family and accept the marriage proposal but at the same time, I felt an electric current dragging me towards Scott, wanting me to stay closer to him, to find out more about him. In all my years, this was the first time I was experiencing a drag towards a man and I didn’t know what to do.
As the night went by and we all went to sleep, I kept thinking about him, about his appearance and his voice, and all of a sudden deep down, I knew everything would be all right.
I woke up to the sensation of someone tugging my blanket. I opened my eyes in horror: the two McKenzie cousins were around me: one of them was holding his hand on my mouth as the other one was removing the blanket and lifting up my skirt. I started kicking and I tried to scream but I couldn’t: the hand on my mouth was too big and it was holding me too tight.
I tried kicking as hard as possible and thankfully, I managed to kick the one lifting my skirt up. As I kicked him, he fell on the ground and Scott woke up. He knew there was something happening and took his sword walking towards me. Once he saw what was happening, he hit the one that was already on the ground so hard that he lost conscience and turned his eyes towards the one that was holding my mouth. Even in the dark, I was able to see the anger in his eyes and they were terrifying.
