Page 104
Story: Knights, Knaves, and Kilts
Being goats, they would strip everything.
Now, Edenside was a community of goats and chickens, having the run of the place and lots of delicious things to eat, but up in the tower, on the roof, a tiny figure emerged from her hiding place and began to fearfully make her way down the stairs.
When the screaming had started, little Dyana had run. She was young, but not so young that she did not know a bad sound when she heard one. Back in the days of Laird Letty, she’d been a toddler and whenever there was screaming or raised voices, Artus had taught her to run and hide.
This time, it had saved her from abduction.
She’d run straight up to the roof and hid in a little crevice between the roof and the wall.
But now that she’d come down the stairs, she could see that the tower was empty.
No sounds, no people. Dyana made her way down to the level where the girls slept and she wandered into the dormitory, finger in her mouth, as she looked at the empty and somewhat disheveled chamber.
Marybelle and Nora had tried to hold on to their beds as they were grabbed, so the beds were in disarray and scattered on the floor.
As Dyana stood there, looking at the chaotic mess, she heard a groan.
She followed the sounds.
Tucked over behind her own little bed lay Tibelda.
The woman had a dagger in her chest, her own dagger in fact, turned on her by one of the reivers when she’d tried to defend the girls.
Blood soaked the woman’s woolen clothing and pooled on the floor beside her as Dyana knelt down beside Tibelda and put a timid little hand on the woman’s head. Tibelda’s eyes fluttered open.
“B-babe?” she said with her heavy stammer. “Is it the b-babe?”
Dyana leaned over so Tibelda could see her little face. When the woman blinked, cleared her vision, and recognized her, she smiled weakly.
“’Tis the w-wee b-babe,” she said, reaching up a weak hand to stroke the terrified child’s cheek. “Are ye w-well, lass?”
Dyana nodded, finger still in her mouth and tears in her eyes. “Where’d they go?”
Tibelda was fading fast. “Is everyone g-gone now?”
Again, the child nodded her head. “They ran away.”
Tibelda thought as quickly as her muddled mind would allow. “And t-they didna take ye?”
Dyana was chewing furiously on her finger. “I hid.”
Now, things were coming a little clearer to Tibelda, but she knew her time was limited. Frankly, she was shocked to see the child. But in that little one, she saw hope. She couldn’t go for help, which meant only the child could.
A tiny little girl against the world.
But she didn’t want the child to go to Kelso Abbey or into that big town; she’d only become lost, or worse.
Kelso Abbey, and the abbot, only had bad connotations for Edenside and Tibelda didn’t trust them to help those at Edenside.
They never had before. Therefore, that meant the child had to find help elsewhere.
She tried to smile, cupping the child’s face in her hand.
“I-it was good that ye should hide,” she said. “B-But now ye must find help. Do ye understand? Y-ye must find Sir Thomas and tell him w-what has happened.”
Dyana’s eyes widened with confusion. “Where is he?”
Tibelda could see how frightened the child was. She could feel her strength fading and breathing was becoming more and more difficult. She felt as if she were drowning, but she summoned the last of her strength to calmly give instructions to a terrified child.
Too many lives depended on it.
“G-go into my chamber,” she told the little girl as calmly and steadily as she could. “T-there is a cloak on a peg. T-take it with ye and go out to the road. D-do ye remember the way the knights went when they left us?”
The child shook her head, perhaps not completely understanding the question, and Tibelda held up a finger. “I-if I give ye a pence, w-which hand do ye take it with?”
The little girl was puzzled for a moment, but took the finger out of her mouth and held out her right hand. “Here!”
Tibelda smiled faintly. “G-Good lass,” she said. “N-now, get the cloak and go out to the road. A-and follow the direction of yer pence hand and stay to the river. W-When ye come to a bridge, cross it, and there will be Wark Castle. T-That is where Sir Thomas is. D-do ye understand?”
Dyana nodded solemnly. “Will he come?”
Tibelda closed her eyes; her vision was starting to go. “H-he will, lass,” she said quietly. “H-Hurry, now. T-The cloak will protect ye from the night, b-but ye must hurry. T-tell Sir Thomas that the bad men t-took everyone away and he must help. P-please, lass. Y-ye must go.”
Dyana nodded, but the finger went back in her mouth. She sat there and chewed on it until Tibelda closed her eyes and stopped breathing.
Then, everything grew terribly still.
No breathing, no speaking, no goat bleating down in the kitchen yard.
Simply utter and complete stillness. Frightened of the stillness, Dyana didn’t really understand that Tibelda had died.
She shook her, twice, but Tibelda didn’t move, so the child thought perhaps she was only sleeping in spite of the blood on the woman and on the floor.
Death really didn’t register with the young girl.
However, knowing she’d been asked to help, Dyana stood up and left Tibelda’s body, going to the adjacent chamber in search of the cloak she’d been told to find.
In spite of her young age, Dyana was obedient and smart.
She could see the cloak, hanging up on the peg, and she pulled on it a few times until it came tumbling down over her head.
Wrapping it around her body and having to double it up because it was far too big for her, she headed out of the tower and onto the front steps where she kicked the wolf’s head dagger that had been placed there by the reivers.
It scattered out into the dirt and, curious, Dyana went after it, picking it up and seeing that it was a big knife.
It had the head of a dog on the end and the dog had gem-stone eyes.
She could see them glittering in the weak light.
Because it was pretty, and because she knew that big people often used knives for protection, Dyana thought to take it with her on her journey to find Sir Thomas.
She’d even seen Artus with a big knife, back in the days of Laird Letty, and she knew something sharp like this was meant to protect.
It made her feel less frightened simply to carry it and the good Lord knew how badly she needed the courage.
Desperately.
Making her way to the front gates, Dyana could see that one of them was broken.
She couldn’t open it. Still, at the angle it sat, there was a small hole at the base of it, near the wall, so she got down on her knees and crawled through it.
The cloak came off because the hole was so small, so she reached in her little hand and pulled it through.
Now, she had her cloak again, protection against the night, and her dog-knife in her hand.
She was ready.
Sitting in front of the broken gates, Dyana held up her “pence hand”.
It was on her right and she turned to look down the road on that side.
She had no way of knowing it faced east, or that Wark was only a few miles in that direction.
All she knew was that Tibelda had told her to follow the road until she came to a bridge, and over the bridge was Wark Castle.
Looking up in the sky, it was covered by a smattering of glittering stars and the moon was sitting low to the west. There wasn’t much light to travel by, but that didn’t matter.
She’d been told to find Sir Thomas and find him she would.
Heading off in the direction of her “pence hand”, the first step of her journey– and saving her friends– began.
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