Chapter 8

Lucky's POV

The guards at the prison, of course, thought it was suspicious that I had come there. But as I offered them food and explained that my soul was in dire need of the good Father - whom I still hoped was inside - they seemed to buy it and let me enter.

As I stepped into the prison, I thought it would either be peaceful or filled with desperate, fearful voices. But instead, I was met with the sound of roaring laughter.

"--- you can only imagine the filly’s expression, when I---," I heard the oldest one say, while his audience laughed their asses off. Well, all except the priest.

"You heathen dogs!" he shouted, cutting the Scot off and jumping up and down in outrage like an insolent toddler. His face turned alternately red and purple, and even I had a hard time controlling my laughter. I really didn’t want to know what had happened to that poor filly.

"I can only pray that God will show you scoundrels mercy, because God knows, I can’t help you!" He bellowed on, before turning around and finally noticing me. "Oh, my child," he exclaimed, his anger seeming to subside as if by miracle. "What are you doing here?"

The laughter died down, and the curious stares couldn’t hide the surprise they felt at seeing me. I thought I could even sense a hint of bitterness, but hopefully, I would soon be forgiven.

"Seeking your advice, Padre," I said in Latin, proving I knew the holy language. "What crimes have these men committed?"

"They’re Scots, my child," the priest answered in the same language, looking down on me like he literally thought I was a child. Oh God, I hate men, I thought bitterly to myself, and had to fight the urge to literally want to scratch his eyes out. But I remained in character and played on my innocent appearance.

"They’ve committed crimes against the Crown by inciting scurries and talk about---"

"I speak for equal rights and freedom to all men," a voice interrupted from behind us - also in Latin! And this time I had a hard time hiding my surprise.

It was Markus!

"And not just the fools lucky enough to be born into it."

His dark eyes burned like fire, and his words ignited a flame in my heart that burned away all doubts and fear. This man needed to live.

To inspire and shine.

To be told and retold.

I needed to save his life...

"An innocent child like yourself shouldn’t worry your head with such things," the priest continued, as if he hadn’t heard his reasons. "The King of England has been blessed by God to rule this land, and we must bend to his will. And those who oppose him, oppose God - and must therefore die."

Well...

That was a load of bullshit!

"Forgive me, Father," I said - and luckily knew the proper ritual. But as he was about to place his hand on my head, I looked up and met his eyes.

"But I agree with Mr. McCollum."

His eyes filled with horror--- but it was too late!

I grabbed his arm and in a single motion, drove my fingers into his gut before cutting off his air supply. He fell to the ground with a thump, unconscious before he hit the ground.

I blew the hair out of my face, standing and once again faced the Scots. And to my amusement, the men were all watching me with eyes the size of tea-cups. None of them even attempted to hide their surprise. I think even the injured one had to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming.

"Remind me never to piss you off, lassie," the old one finally said, sounding equally surprised and impressed.

"Don’t ever tell me what happened to the filly," I answered and shrugged - because there were some things that even I didn't want to know. "And we’ll call it even."

I grabbed a small cross from the priest, and with it and my pocket-knife, I started working on picking the lock. Good thing the key to Father’s workshop had always been missing - otherwise I wouldn’t have had as much experience picking locks as I did.

"Why are you helping us?" Markus asked quietly, staying alert for the guards still outside.

"You want to live?" I asked sarcastically as I opened the door. He didn’t answer - but he didn’t need to. He was suspicious and had every right to be. But that wasn’t our main concern right now. He’d been given a second chance, and he’d be a fool not to take it.

"Then let’s go!" I said, and while I moved on to work the second lock, he took care of the guards outside.

"You knocked out a priest!" the youngest one said, and I think he was just as surprised as he was afraid.

"What would you have me do? ‘Ave Maria’ him unconscious?" I asked in a huff, earning myself a smile from the men.

"Against me better judgment, I may still come to like you, lassie," the old one said with a grin, as he and the youngster helped the wounded one up.

I wanted to tell him my name was Lucky — not Lassie — but that could wait. At that point, I still wasn’t used to the strange dialect of the Scots — but I’d soon grow to like it, just as much as I loved and cherished my own dialect from back home.

By the entrance, Markus waited for us, standing over two unconscious guards.

"You’re handy - for a nun," he remarked, nursing a bruised hand from fighting off the guards, while I hadn’t sustained as much as a scratch from breaking out.

"I’m not a nun - I lied," I confessed with perhaps an inappropriate smile. "I already told you! I’m from the Faroes; it’s as close to heathens as you can get this side of the Atlantic."

He skeptically raised one eyebrow but didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down and grabbed the jacket of one of the officers.

"Wait here," he commanded, putting it on and disappearing into the night.

A few seconds later, he reemerged with their horses, but this time with blood on his sword.

My heart sank - but then again, what did I expect? Men knew only one thing, and that was how to kill. But even as I was still thinking it, I knew it wasn’t true. Markus didn’t strike me as a blood-lusting man - not like the captain anyway. If he killed, it was because he saw no other option...

Together, they helped the wounded man onto a horse, and this time the youngest got up behind him. The oldest took the reins of the spare horse, and as quietly as they could, they rode on ahead — out of the village.

That left me and Markus.

He was quick on his horse, but as I stepped closer…

I looked up — and our eyes met. My heart sank. There was hesitation in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t reach his hand down to me.

He was considering leaving me behind.

My emotions flipped from anger to fear in a matter of seconds. I had saved his life - twice! - and he was going to leave me behind?

Maybe my people-meter really was broken. He was a monster — just like the rest of them.

Fuck, how was I going to get out of this one? If I snuck back up to the room on the top floor…? No — the guards and the priest would be able to identify me as the one who---

The grip was firm and strong.

In a matter of seconds, I was lifted from the ground and onto the horse. I felt Markus lean over me - and before I knew it, we left the settlement and rode into the darkness of the night.