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She proceeded further down the road to where the church was. Since Carronish was a slightly more prosperous village than Shieldaig, there might be a gold chalice or other altar vessels there, Greta thought, although if there had been, she doubted that they were there anymore.
As she stepped inside, she saw a scene of utter carnage. The pews had been smashed, most of them to smithereens, and the mullioned windows shattered. The tabernacle was on the flagstone floor, and as Greta had expected, its contents had been removed. The altar cloth had been torn in two, and its pristine whiteness soiled with mud.
Greta advanced into the vestry and saw that all the ceremonial garments were gone. She wondered if the bandits had managed to find the holy relic and if it was worth as much as they seemed to think it was. Somehow she doubted it since they had no way of proving it was even real.
“Why?” she asked aloud, hardly able to contain the fury within her. This wanton destruction was all for nothing. So the bandits had to feed their families? How many other families had they destroyed in the process of doing so?
Just then, she heard a thump at the back of the church as someone bumped into one of the smashed pews. Greta whipped around and faced the source of the sound, only to be confronted by the last person she had expected or wanted to see.
Liam was advancing toward her with a sadistic smile on his face. “Well, Greta,” he said smoothly, “fancy seeing ye here! I thought Finn might have set ye free.”
“He did,” Greta said nervously. She stood her ground, even though everything in her told her to back away.
Liam could see the fear in her face, and it inflamed him. There was nothing he loved more than instilling terror in people’s hearts, especially women. “So why are ye here?” he asked. “Do ye no’ know how dangerous it is?”
He was striding toward her as he spoke, but even though Greta tried to keep her face composed, she could not manage to stop the fear showing through. She backed away involuntarily.
“I know,” she said valiantly. She could not think of an answer to his question.
Liam answered for her, however. “Ye care for him, do ye not, Greta?”
Greta did not answer for a moment, then she nodded. “He is a good man,” she stated, glaring at Liam. “A better one than ye, but that would no’ be hard.”
Liam threw his head back and laughed heartily at her remark. “If he is a good man, then I am the king!” he said scathingly. “An’ do ye see a crown on my heid?” He took another step toward her. “No, Greta, ye are entirely mistaken. Finn is as bad a man as I am. He has done his share o’ stealin’ an’ killin’, just like the rest o’ us. There is no’ a good man between us.”
Greta shrugged. “Then if ye think he is a bad man, I will leave him, as ye suggested at first. Excuse me.” She tried to push past him, but he blocked her way by stepping sideways then grabbed her arm in a grip that was every bit as strong as Finn’s.
“Not so fast,” he warned her. “Finn let ye go because he does not care for us anymore, but I look after my men. Ye have seen too much, Greta. Ye cannae be allowed tae live.”
Greta’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, but she was determined not to let this monster take her life without a fight. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and brought out the knife, then waved it at him defiantly as she took a step away from him.
Liam laughed again, then swiped the knife out of her hand before bringing out a small dagger, its blade gleaming even in the half-light of the inside of the church. “Ye have much tae learn,” he told her, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Now, Miss Greta, it would be cruel o’ me tae keep ye waitin’, so…” He stopped suddenly and choked as a thickly muscled arm snaked around his neck in a stranglehold.
“No,yehave much tae learn, Brother!” Finn growled as he pulled the other man closer.
But Liam was not finished yet. The small dagger was still in his hands, and he thrust it back as hard as he could into Finn’s side; then, with a venomous glare at both of them, he ran out of the church.
Finn sank to his knees, holding his side with both hands and groaning as he tried to stem the bleeding. Greta, terror-stricken, helped him onto the floor and tried to prise his hands away to see the damage Liam’s stroke had done, but Finn would not move them.
“Greta, help me…” he gasped, his face screwed up in pain.
“I am tryin’, Finn,” she said desperately. “Ye must let me see the wound.”
Finn took one of his hands away, and immediately, a great circle of blood bloomed on his tunic. Greta had always been a quick thinker, and now she knew that time was of the essence. She did not know how deep Finn’s cut was, but she knew that the bleeding had to be stopped, and from her experience in working with animals, she knew only one way to do that.
Looking around for something to bandage him with, Greta’s eyes fell on the altar cloth. She reached for it, then tore off a piece and wadded it into a thick pad, which she secured by wrapping another long piece around Finn’s waist.
“Can ye stand up?” she asked, trying to help him by putting her shoulder under his armpit. Then for the second time, she found that Finn’s weight almost defeated her, but she was determined. Nothing and no one was going to hurt the man who had come to mean so much to her, especially not a worm like Liam. She would kill Finn’s brother herself if she got the chance.
She heard Finn groan in agony again as he tried to stand, his hard muscles flexing against her as he slowly managed to pull himself up.
“Come on, Finn,” she urged. “Nearly there.” With her last ounce of strength, she finally managed to help him to his feet, although he staggered a little. He was still leaning on her heavily, but she managed to hold him up, and they half-walked, half-stumbled toward his horse.
When they reached him, however, Greta could think of no way to help him to mount. She was not strong enough to make a stirrup with her hands and hold his weight to help him up, and he was quite unable to pull himself up by himself. She sighed. What was she going to do now?
She looked around her and saw exactly what she needed. A piece of debris in the shape of a rough but solidly made wooden chair was lying on its side a few feet away from them. Greta let Finn stand on his own for a moment while she grabbed it and placed it beside him so that he could step on it, then he managed to scramble into the saddle by himself.
He swayed for a few seconds, his eyes half-closed, before managing to sit up straight. He looked around himself. “Greta,” he said hoarsely, “where are we goin’? Where is Liam?”
