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“They will no’ stop me,” she replied. “They wanted me tae go.”
“I know,” he sighed, then he gave her a sad smile. “So go, Greta. Leave while ye can. An’ I am glad tae have met ye.”
Greta found herself hesitating for a moment. She wanted to leave the rest of the gang, but Finn…he was different.
The few seconds were enough time for Finn to lean down and give her a gentle kiss and enough time for a stab of desire to shoot through her. Before she could change her mind, she swung herself onto the horse and rode away.
Watching her, Finn could see that she was telling the truth about her riding skills. She sat on the horse as if she were part of it, looking comfortable and graceful, then they reached the edge of the forest. Greta looked back once and gave him a quick wave and a smile. He returned the wave but could not bring himself to smile back at her. He watched as horse and rider disappeared around the edge of the woods and were gone.
Finn felt as though his heart would break, but he knew that if he kept Greta in his life, she would make him soften and he would never be able to do what he was doing now to earn a living. He wondered if she had not already ruined him for his life of crime since, for the first time since he had killed his first enemy soldier on the battlefield, his conscience pricked him sorely.
Moreover, he had a bad feeling about his brother. There had been something in the way Liam looked at him that frightened him, and he had the strangest premonition of doom as if something was not right.
13
Greta was very happy with the gentle horse that Finn had given her and reflected that she should have been glad to have been set free, but strangely she was not. Finn had looked—she could not find the word for a moment—yes, tortured. He had said that he was concerned about the length of time his men were taking to come back from the raid, but she could see that it was not the only thing that was bothering him.
As well as that, Greta could not go home without knowing how the village of Carronish had fared. She only hoped it had done better than Shieldaig.
She dithered for a few more moments then turned Ally’s head toward Carronish. “Come on, boy,” she said firmly. “I cannot go home without seein’ how those poor people are farin’. Maybe there is somethin’ I can do.”
The horse whinnied as if in agreement and broke into a canter at her urging. They rode for about a mile through open countryside. It was almost autumn, when many of the trees would remove their green summer coats and change to their glorious red and gold autumn ones. However, Greta loved the firs, spruces, and pines, who stubbornly held on to theirs all through winter.
At any other time she would have loved the ride, but she was preparing herself to see ugliness, destruction, and misery and simply could not allow herself to enjoy the beauty around her. She could not be happy until she knew that all the residents of Carronish were well.
Presently, they saw the rooftops of the village, and a surge of relief went through Greta as she realized that there seemed to be no flames rising from the buildings.
“Thank God,” she breathed. If the little place had not been set on fire, there might still be some hope that the bandits had not done too much damage.
However, she still had to be careful. There would be outlaws everywhere, and even though she was equipped with a knife, she would be no match against any man with the same weapon, or worse still, a sword. She had to stay unseen.
She slowed Ally down to a walk and tethered him to a tree a few hundred yards away from the village, then she put on her cloak, which was the same color as her dress. Both of them, having been worn for weeks, were filthy, their color a light greenish-brown that blended into the green and yellow grass, so that from a distance she was almost invisible. She crept around the edge of the village, keeping to the long grass at the edge of the buildings, then she ventured into the buildings around the main street.
Twilight had set in by this time, and as Greta tiptoed around in the shadows, she was surprised at how little noise there was. At first, it seemed that Liam had followed Finn’s instructions because she could see no bodies in the street, and the buildings were not as badly damaged as they had been in Shieldaig. There were doors hanging from houses and barns, and Greta could see that there were shattered pots and broken furniture strewn around the streets, but she was pleasantly surprised to see that the damage was not half so bad as she had expected.
Then, as she advanced further down the street, she saw that she had been wrong in her first assumption. There were broken bodies of all ages and both sexes lying on the street. Even two little boys of around ten years old had not escaped the brutality of the outlaws. She felt sickened and absolutely furious. If she could kill one of the outlaws in cold blood, she knew that she would do so without a second thought.
All of a sudden she heard weeping from one of the houses and crept inside to see a young woman hiding under a table. She was sobbing and holding a tiny baby to her chest while a little boy, perhaps three years old, was cuddled against her side, his eyes wide with fear. Seeing their distress, Greta knelt down beside them, and they cowered back in terror.
“Don’t hurt us, please,” the young mother begged, fresh tears streaming down her face and dripping from her chin. “We have nothin’ left tae give ye.”
“I am no’ goin’ tae hurt ye,” Greta said soothingly. “I am no’ one o’ them. Be at ease. I know their leader, an’ I will do everythin’ I can tae keep ye safe. I am Greta. What is yer name?”
“My name is Fiona,” the young woman replied. She indicated the little boy. “This is my son David an’ my wee girl Donalda.” She frowned, then asked, “If ye are no’ wi’ the bandits, why are ye here?”
“I want tae talk tae them,” Greta growled. “I want tae stop them, an’ I am sorry ye had tae go through this. Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head. “Just frightened.”
“Where is yer husband?” Greta asked.
“He went tae buy some leather from the market in Oban,” Fiona answered. “Thank God. Otherwise, they might have killed him.”
“Let me see if they are gone,” Greta said grimly, standing up. She crept to what was left of the door and peeped around it. There was no one in the street, but that did not mean that the danger was over. “I cannot see anybody, but stay here just now.” She spotted some bread and cheese on the kitchen table and gave it to Fiona, who gave her a grateful smile.
“Ye will need tae stay strong for the bairns,” Greta told her. “Ye must eat now, an’ I will try tae come back when it is safe, but I cannae promise.”
She stood up and crept out noiselessly, staying in the shadows, which had become thicker now that nightfall was closer. As she proceeded further down the street, she saw that the destruction was becoming worse. Thankfully though, there was only one more body lying in the street, that of one of the robbers. There was a long wooden spade lying next to him and a deep cleft in his skull through which a copious amount of blood had poured to soak into the ground around him. Greta turned away from the gruesome sight. She felt sick.
