style="font-size:15px;"> “I’ll kill you bloodsucking English with my bare hands! This is all your fault!” he screamed, tortured by his unwinnable situation.
“Stand down, son,” said a voice in calm Gaelic. “We’re not English.”
Hearing Gaelic from the soldier completely bewildered Connor, who slid to a halt and stared dumfounded into the face of a shadow.
“Who are you then?”
“A friend,” the apparition answered.
The sound of swords being drawn sliced through the mist. Suddenly frightened, the highwaymen released Tegan, who immediately ran to Connor’s side, wrapping her trembling, icy arms around his body.
“What has just transpired here?” asked the horseman sternly.
“We were just helping this young lady and her son across the bridge,” answered the thief. “’Tis so dark, we feared that they might end up in the creek.”
“That’s not true!” blurted Connor. “They demanded money, then they attacked us!”
“Thieves?” questioned the leader. “On my land?”
He stepped closer and peered into the eyes of one thief then the other. The point of a glistening blade suddenly came to rest under the highwayman’s stubbly chin.
“I know you. You’re Dougal McPhee. And you, you’re Niall Kincade. What kind of disloyal filth attacks a helpless Scottish family while the English are ransacking our lands?”
“’Tis . . . ’tis not as it looks . . .” stammered the thief. “I swear.”
“I do not tolerate traitors on my land,” the horseman growled. “I should kill you both on the spot. You have until sunrise to get yourselves off my land, or else I’ll run you through and display your worthless swinging corpses at the crossroads. Don’t ever set foot within a week’s walk of Roslin again!”
“Yes, sir, your lordship, sir,” answered the cowering men. “Thank you! Thank you for your mercy!”
They turned and fled, stumbling across the bridge and disappearing into the foggy moors. Tegan and Connor’s mysterious saviour then turned and approached the shivering woman and child.
“Are you well, my lady?”
“Aye, thank you,” Tegan whispered, her free hand trying to pull together her torn dress.
“And why are you walking in your current state on such a dangerous road?” he queried.
“Our farm, my lord, was attacked by the English. Our home was in flames when my son and I fled for our lives.”
“The MacDonald farm,” answered the stranger, looking off toward the distant glow. “You must be Tegan and this must be your son, Connor.”
“Y—yes, we are MacDonalds,” answered Tegan. “Do I know you, sir?”
“Your father accompanied mine on his doomed quest to the Holy Lands. Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Henry Sinclair.”
Connor could see the shock in the silhouette ofhis mother’s face. Tegan humbled herself, curtsying deeply. Connor followed his mother’s lead and bowed to the stranger.
“Prince Henry,” she said, her eyes lowered. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”
Prince Henry looked to the hill that glowed from the distant fire.
“My good knights and I were on our way to scout the English movements when we heard your screams. I’m sorry that I was not able to save your homestead. Their advance has caught us by surprise. Where were you heading?”
“To Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ian’s farm,” answered Connor bravely.
Prince Henry hesitated. “The farm of Ian MacEwen, near the village?”
“Yes,” said Tegan. “Maggie is my sister.”
His face dropped. “I’m afraid, then, that I am a bearer of further sad tidings. The English moved through that area earlier tonight. Angus MacEwen’s farm is no longer.”
“No longer?” asked Tegan, weakly. “My sister, Maggie . . . her family . . . Are they well?”
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry. They were killed during the sacking of the farm.”
“Nae, say ’tis not true . . . !” sobbed Tegan. Connor caught his mother by the arm, but his tired legs buckled under her weight.
Prince Henry leapt forward to steady her other side. He turned to his men. “Rudyard, you ride on ahead to keep an eye on the English and their movements. Report back to me before daybreak. Alex and I will take the lad and his mother back to Roslin.”
“As you wish, my lord,” answered the taller of the two, who leapt up onto his steed. The horse and knight galloped off toward the distant, glowing hill.
The prince and his friend then helped Tegan onto the nearest horse. Prince Henry swung up and steadied Tegan with an arm around her waist. Connor climbed onto the back of the second horse. Holding on to a leather belt, he leaned into Prince Henry’s friend.
The night had completely overwhelmed Connor. His young mind tried to deal with the many losses by drifting back to an earlier time, one of peace and comfort. Distant memories of his father drifted into his exhausted thoughts. He remembered when he used to snuggle into his father during the long rides into town. Why could Father not be with them now? He would know what to do. He could have somehow saved the farm! But then he remembered what Prince Henry had just said about his aunt and uncle. Gone. Except for his mother, everything he had loved so dearly was now gone. Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping somehow to wish this living nightmare away. Who was going to look after them now?
Two
Four Years Later . . . Near a shoreline that, far in the future, would be called Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia, May, 1397
Glooscap!” his sister screamed. “He’s returned!” Na’gu’set rubbed his eyes, not yet fully awake. He had just returned from a four-month paddle to the land of the corn growers. His body ached from the constant paddling, and he had uncharacteristically slept late. Ronalaka, wide-eyed and braided hair flying, hopped back and forth impatiently in the entrance of the wigwam.
Midmorning light poured in through the entrance but what he found strange was the silence beyond the doorway. The village was usually a buzz of activity during the daytime hours.
“Where is everyone?”
She shook her head impatiently. “I’ve already told you! It’s Glooscap! He’s in the bay! Just like in the stories you told me by the fire! He came on the back of not just one but three whales! The whole village is there to meet him, but they need you! You’re the only one who knows the tongue of the Teachers!”
“Glooscap?” he said, straightening. He could not believe what he was hearing. “In the bay? Are you sure?”
