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A MIRACLE HAD COME to the bridge and Stefan was relieved to see it.
But the elder man was far more concerned with Stefan’s injury than he was with resting and boldly walked to where he sat. He carefully pulled the back of Stefan’s tunic out of his belt and looked at the injury. “Tis not so bad,” he whispered, even though it was obviously going to leave a horrible scar. The elder was afraid to say more and sorely wanted to thank the lad, but his nod and a prayer would have to do. He found a rock, sat down and closed his eyes.
All the men exchanged glances from time to time and waited. They did not mind. Sitting down was a luxury and they basked in it. But then the commander and two more guards returned with medicine, blankets and soap.
“Where might the food be?” chastised the monk.
“‘Tis the Sabbath, the...” At the Monk’s fierce glare, the commander again turned and rode away.
At last, the ample monk lifted his leg over, held on to the horn of the saddle and slid down, nearly falling to the ground before he got his balance. More annoyed than embarrassed, he straightened his robe, fiddled with the rope around his middle and tied the reins of his mule to a tree. “Take off yer clothing, lads. Ye’ve naught to show me I have not seen afore.”
He nodded for one of the guards to help him and walked down the line handing out the blankets and the soap. There was not enough soap, he decided, and handed a bar to every other man instead. But each got a blanket and as they began to disrobe, their sore feet together with other sores on their bodies horrified him. “‘Tis a sad day when Scots treat lads such as this. The Good Book says an enslaved lad’s sores will be tended and they well know it.”
Some were new sayings for Stefan, he was pretty sure the good book did not say all that, and he almost smiled as he took off all his clothing and stepped into the water. Water...he did not remember how good it felt and even though it was cold, he welcomed it. He welcomed it until he waded out far enough for the water to touch his wound. Even so, he gathered his courage and his breath, submerged and let the river clean weeks of soil off his body. When he came up for air, the old man was beside him handing him the soap.
If nothing more, Stefan had a friend and he was pleased. He rubbed soap all over his hair and body, and then motioned for the old man to turn around so he could rub the soap on the elder’s back. He handed it back, submerged again to rinse off and then started to grab his clothing off the rock to wash them. But the old man already had them and with his eyes, was telling Stefan it was his way of showing his appreciation.
Stefan nodded, got out of the water, wrapped a blanket around his waist and sat back down. Before long, the monk was beside him.
“Lay on the grass on yer stomach, lad, so I may tend yer injury. The Good Book says a lad should not be whipped when he has done nothing wrong and they well know it.” But Stefan’s back was not the only injury and when the monk saw the condition of his feet and his shoes, he was still more enraged. “A lad cannae walk through the gates of heaven with shoes such as these...and they well know it!”
This time Stefan did smile. Still, none of the slaves dared speak and when the monk clumsily got back on his mule and went away, they were certain the old rules would apply and they would be put back to work, wet clothing and all. But they were left to rest and for the first time in weeks, their evening meal consisted of good sized portions of meat, vegetables and bread. This time when they were told to sleep, they all slept like babies and the next morning, the guards were there but no one woke them. It was beyond belief – they were to get a full day of rest. Their miracle was not freedom, but it was the next best thing and Stefan was convinced it was because the old man asked God for help.
In the days to come, the monk returned, checked their injuries and measured all the men for warm winter clothing and new shoes which were delivered just a few days later. Each Sabbath they were allowed baths and a day of rest. More importantly, each meal was hearty enough to improve their health considerably.
As he grew stronger and the routine seemed to hold, Stefan made his plan. The next time they were to bathe in the river, he would simply submerge; swim as long as he could under water and get away. He would have to find a way to cover his nakedness once he was out of the river, he knew, but it was the least of his concerns. As though they read his mind, the guards took to tying two men together at the ankle when they bathed and he was always paired with the old man. As well, they loaded their longbows each time and the fear of being shot in the back like his father weighed heavy on Stefan’s mind.
With improved health, even the work got done faster and seemed a bit easier. Still, the work was exhausting, men were lashed when they got distracted, bows were drawn by the guards when they bathed and no possibility of escape presented itself.
The second arch in the bridge was completed by the end of summer.
When fall arrived they were given skins with which to make crude individual shelters under the limbs of the trees. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they had before and it offered some measure of privacy if a man finally succumbed to his tears. Stefan did not but he was tempted to.
In his more desperate moments, he wondered if God had forgotten him or if he had committed some unspeakable offense, but Stefan could think of no sin that serious. At length, he remembered to be grateful God was protecting Kannak and Jirvel instead. It seemed to ease his mind considerably.
The privacy of the skins made it easier for a man to untie his hands and feet and then make good his escape. Three tried and met their deaths before they got to the edge of the encampment. There were simply too many guards and as badly as Stefan wanted to, he was not willing to die in the attempt. He wanted to get back to Kannak and live long enough to make her his bride.
The third arch was finished in late fall and winter lay ahead. He was not allowed to ask what day or even what month it was and the marking of time was only certain in the seasons and the passing of each Sabbath.
The good thing about winter in Scotland was the lack of daylight which meant shorter hours of work. That gave the slaves more time to develop a language without speech using their hands and their eyes. The slow closing and opening of the eyes meant a guard was coming and the faster blink meant the guards were going away. Still, he knew none of their names and nothing about them.
They were together, but each man was alone in his thoughts and the loneliness was sometimes unbearable. They could roll their eyes and make very slight hand gestures, but unless they were willing to face the whip, they dared not do more.
The bad thing about winter was the slowness in which the fourth arch was completed and the number of hours Stefan had to fret over Kannak and her mother. Winter meant he had been away for nearly a year and surely they thought him dead. He still sent his nightly mental message to his love, but he had a nagging fear she had chosen another and married. The thought of another man touching her made him furious and now he understood how Macoran felt when Jirvel married Eogan. It was a torture worse than being enslaved or even whipped.
On one Sabbath, the other Macoran slave took sick and was dying. Because the guards were afraid to tend him themselves, Stefan was allowed. He longed to know the man’s name if for no other reason than to report his death to the Macorans someday. He soon learned the man’s name was Toran and there was not a guard among them who could stop a man from talking in his feverish madness. Toran had plenty to say and before he passed, Stefan knew exactly what had happened and who was behind his capture. He was enraged.
Then the daylight began to lengthen again, the chill in the air lessened and sometime during the building of the fifth and final arch over the river, Stefan turned seventeen.
They were now only twenty-three slaves, for more died including the old man who succumbed to his age and passed peacefully in his sleep. For as long as Stefan lived, he would not forget the smile on the old man’s face at the moment of his death and after careful consideration, guessed the angels had come to get him. For a long time after, he wished he had braved the guards and asked the elder’s name. He missed the old man’s smile, his only comfort on some days but at least his friend was finally relieved of his labors.
It also occurred to him that the old man had the answer to loneliness. There was someone he could talk to in his oppressive world of silence. At first he felt too shy to talk to God and said all the things he was taught to say by the priests. But he soon found those words had little meaning when what he really wanted to do was talk to him man-to-God. He asked a thousand questions, requested a million blessings and even thought to barter his freedom, though he had little to barter with save promises.
Some days his mind was too muddled to have a civilized thought, and some days he was too enraged. But in the end, he was certain God had sent the monk to them with warm clothing, food and a bath when they needed it most. Perhaps all he had to do was wait for God’s deliverance. But what could be taking so long?
After the elder died, Stefan was paired with a stronger man when they bathed, but this man was not about to submerge under the water. Stefan was certain the man did not know how to swim and in fact, feared the water.
Then spring became summer.
At night he remembered to send his mental message to Kannak and sometimes she would come to him in a dream. The dreams were always different. Sometimes she was in a meadow, sometimes she was laughing at him and sometimes she stood at the top of the hill watching the ocean. But always the dream ended with her hand outstretched to him. It comforted him while at the same time tortured his heart. If only he could get word to her somehow. The fear of her marrying another increased, so he took to sending a message to her every morning as well, “Wait for me, Kannak.”
*
WHEN BLINKS WERE NOT enough, the slaves developed a system of whistles and the loudest was to warn of danger. Stefan had noticed the two slightly leaning trees by the river before and after a full week of rain, the ground was loose enough to let them fall. Then when the wind began to blow hard and the trees began to sway, he whistled as loud as he dared. The sound alerted the slaves, but the guards had not yet caught on to the whistles and one threatened to lash him. He lowered his eyes submissively, went back to work and prayed the guard would let his infraction pass. He did. Then Stefan looked at the man next to him, glanced up at the trees and soon the silent word to stay away from them was passed from slave to slave.
One by one, the slaves moved to safer locations and still the guards did not notice how much danger they were in. Two stood directly beneath the trees talking and paying no attention. Then Stefan heard the fateful crack, cupped his hands and yelled, “Run!”
Two other slaves pointed at the trees and just in time, the guards realized what was happening. They scrambled out of the way right before the largest of the two trees fell and kept running until they were well away. Then they looked back in time to see the second tree crash to the ground.
Out of breath, the two guards were stunned. “We surely would have been killed,” one of the guards said. He stared at Stefan for a long moment before he finally nodded his appreciation.
That began a measure of respect between the guards and the slaves. It also helped the guards look good in the eyes of their commander. Not many days after, the guards looked the other way and let them exchange names. The man Stefan bathed with was named Baodan.
When food was more scarce than usual, Stefan shared his with those who looked like they needed it more and the men were always grateful. This too the guards allowed, looking the other way when Stefan got up to scrape a portion of his into another man’s bowl.
*
IT WAS ON A SUNNY DAY that two of the slaves delivered their basket of rocks to the top of the bridge, fell off and plunged to their deaths in the water below. It was not an accident, Stefan knew, for one man suffered such great despair daily, he suspected he would try to kill himself. In his attempt to save the first, the second man fell with him. At least this time Stefan knew their names and should he ever escape and find their families, he intended to notify them.
Summer turned to fall and the bridge was finally nearing completion. They had to be set free, they just had to be and Stefan was exceedingly hopeful.
*
LAIRD LIMOND WAS A stout man with a wide girth and sandy hair. His eyes were blue, his mustache was neatly trimmed and he prided himself on always wearing clean clothing. He was also a wealthy man who ruled over a clan of nearly three hundred. He owned the land south of the river that divided him from Macoran and of the Macoran, he was not fond.
Limond’s wealth came from the English unquenchable desire for lobster and salmon. The lobster was easy enough for his fishing boats to gather just off the coast of Scotland, but the salmon was another matter. He suspected the Macoran gathered far more than their share when the salmon swam up river to spawn and if he could, he would make a mark down the middle of the river to keep them off his side.
Alas, it was impossible to prove and Macoran always swore they were not guilty, but Limond didn’t believe a word of it. Macorans sold their salmon down the coast of England at the very same fish market his men patronized and they always had plenty to sell. It irked him six ways from Sunday.
He once tried to make an alliance with Macoran and the man was willing, but then Macorans were caught red handed with salmon he was certain was from his side of the river and all negotiations were off. A marriage between them was out of the question too once Macoran married the Brodie woman. Besides, Limond had no daughters to give.
Even without the catch the Macorans stole, he was extremely wealthy; his clan had all they needed and most of what they wanted. Therefore, Limond decided to build himself a castle – not just any castle, but one that was high enough to see the river and watch the Macorans. However, the wealth of his clan tended to make his men slothful if not downright lazy and to build a castle, he needed strong men.
When word reached him of a crew of twenty or so felonious men used to build a bridge in the west, he was thrilled. These convicts, he believed, were not truly wicked for what laird would let the wicked live? These were simply thieves and beggars paying for their crimes. So he sent the price and secured the men together with a number of guards. It was a king’s ransom he paid for the guard services, but he could afford it. Nevertheless, the bridge builder had other commitments and Limond had to put out the word in search of another.
While he waited, it took twice as long as it should have for his men to clear the land. He was not pleased. At least there were plenty of rocks nearby and if need be, he could send the men to the river to gather them. That, of course, was not his pleasure for surly Laird Macoran would hear of it and it was none of that man’s business.
*
THIS TIME WHEN THEY were moved to the new location, the slaves were put on horses compliments of their new master. Stefan was devastated they were not immediately set free, but after they were mounted his mood began to change. They were going east and east took him closer to Macoran land. His hopes were high and as he always did, he tried to find a way to escape. On a horse the prospects increased but the guards were not stupid men. A long rope from horse to horse made it impossible to race away unless there was ample room and all the slaves bolted at once. The paths were too narrow, there was no signal between them should they come to a wide clearing and he doubted it would work anyway.
He watched for Macorans, for the black stallion and for any sign of a village but again he saw nothing. Nevertheless, he did manage to examine the hair of his horse and discovered no thick undergrowth that would signal a harsh winter ahead.
*
IT TOOK FIVE DAYS TO reach their new destination and their path took them across three rivers. When they at last arrived, Laird Limond was there to meet them. “Ye will first build a store house over there.” He pointed to a cleared parcel of land. “‘Tis where ye will sleep till the work be done.” He looked over each man, decided they were fit and rode away.
He did not identify himself and Stefan was not at all certain where he was. He thought he could smell the sea air, but feared he was imagining things. He could be anywhere either north or south of the Macorans and not know which.
A shelter to sleep in was too good to be true and there was not a man among them who was not eager to begin the work. The new builder arrived and in a few days they had the walls up and the thatched roof ready and hoisted on top. But something was wrong and Stefan knew it.
Their first night sleeping inside was astonishing. The guards bade them to lie down and did not bind their hands and feet as usual. Instead, the guards simply went out and closed the door behind them. At first, the slaves could not believe it and feared if they spoke, the guards would burst back in and lash them. But as the moments passed, one of them whispered, “A curse on them.”
They held their breaths to see what would happen, but no guard burst in and they were not caught. Still, they were afraid, exchanged glances for a time and then Stefan became emboldened. He kept his voice very soft, “The new builder knows not what he be doing.”
“Aye,” Baodan whispered. “We are in more danger here.”
No one else said anything and soon they were all asleep. The next morning, they began work on the castle. That night, they were again able to whisper to each other and this new freedom overwhelmed and delighted them.
