Michelle Willingham - Highlanders

Trying to reassure herself, Juliana hurried across the bailey and into the stone stables. It was dark within, smelling pleasantly of hay and horses. As she entered, a dog ran up to her, its tail wagging, and several mares nickered.

Alasdair stepped out of the shadows and placed a finger upon his lips, then nodded to his right.

Juliana rushed forward. Alasdair took her arm and guided her to where an old mare was stalled, a young foal suckling at her side. Roger was curled up in the chips and hay, in a far corner of the stall, asleep.

She inhaled in relief. Alasdair put his arm around her and pulled her close. She looked up at him, feeling a rush of gratitude. “We have to wake him. I’m surprised that mare allowed him inside with her colt.”

“Let me do it,” he said.

Juliana assumed that he did not want her to go within, in case the mare decided to behave protectively towards her foal. She watched him step inside, pat the mare, then carefully sidestep her and kneel by Roger. He lifted him into his arms and carried him outside.

As he did, Roger awoke.

Alasdair smiled at him. “Did ye come to see the newborn colt?”

Roger became widely awake. His eyes huge, he shook his head.

Alasdair stepped outside the stall, closed it, and set Roger down. “Did ye think to find a horse, then, and ride away?”

Juliana started. Why would he ask such a question!

Roger was tearful and belligerent. “I don’t like being a hostage.”

“I ken.” He stroked his hair. “No one likes being held hostage, but it’s the way of men.”

Roger shook his head fiercely. “I hate it here!”

Alasdair knelt. “I ken. But ye have a duty to yer mother. Ye frightened her, Roger, hiding as ye did, and thinking to run away. Ye frightened yer aunt. Yer duty is to be strong and brave like yer father. Do ye not wish to be like William?”

“Yes,” he finally said, his gaze riveted upon Alasdair. “Will I ever go home?”

“Of course ye’ll go home. But until ye do, ye must take care of yer mother. Ye canna worry or frighten her again. I ken, ’tis hard being brave. Even when yer grown like I am. But a man dinna have a choice, Roger. Every man has a duty to his kin to be strong and brave.”

Juliana was moved. She had not known Alasdair could be so gentle and kind with children.

Roger continued to gaze keenly at him. “But you’ve never been afraid. You’re Alasdair Og!”

“Sit with me.” Alasdair sat down on a bale of hay, and Roger sat down beside him, enraptured. “A long time ago, when I was much younger than ye, I was sent away from my mother and my father. I was a hostage too.”

Juliana started. She had never heard a word of this before!

Roger’s eyes popped. “You were a hostage?”

“Aye, the King of Scotland held me hostage, for he was very angry with my father. I was sent to him with only a maid.”

Roger bit his lip. “You did not have your mother?”

Alasdair laid his hand on his shoulder. “No. But ye have yer mother, yer aunt, and yer brothers with ye. Ye must remember that.”

Roger nodded. “Were you scared?”

“Yes. It was very hard being strong and brave.” His regard serious, he added, “I dinna ken I would ever go home, but I did. And as soon as yer ransom is paid, ye will go home, but ye must vow ye’ll not run away again.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Alasdair stood up. He suddenly started, as if he’d forgotten that Juliana stood there.

She could barely breathe. How was it that he had never mentioned this to her before?

He smiled slightly at her, allowing Roger to precede them out of the stables. As they crossed the bailey, Juliana’s mind raced. She finally took his arm and halted; he faced her, his expression wry.

“I did not know you were a hostage when you were a child!”

“My father went to war for the King of Norway and Haakon and he lost.” He shrugged. Then, “I ken what the boy is feeling.”

Her heart raced. “How old were you?”

“Almost two.”

He had been sent away as a hostage, without his mother, at the age of two? Of course he understood Roger.

“Dinna look at me that way,” he warned, but mildly.

“How long were you held hostage?”

“Close to three years.”

Juliana bit her lip, tears rising. She seized his hand. “Your poor mother! You must have been so frightened! And to be kept hostage for so long!”

“Dinna feel sorry for me.” He shrugged her off, his look filled with warning. “Little boys grow up.”

Of course she was stricken—and she felt sorry for what he must have endured. But Juliana found her composure. “Alasdair. Thank you for being so kind to Roger.”

He softened. “Did ye think I’d be unkind?”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

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