The Witch of the Glen: A Viking Love Story

It was a perfectly beautiful day. The sun was shining, a soft breeze filtered down the rise of the meadow.

Clouds of stark white consistency dotted an azure blue sky.

A perfect day indeed.

Hester Hughes did not trust such a day. Perhaps it was her Scottish heritage...but no good could come of a day like this, she was certain.

She felt it in her bones.

The girl, for she could by no means be considered anything but at this stage of her life, scowled darkly for the fact.

She signed deeply, returning to her pastime.

Well, the day might be doubtful but the Earth herself was doing its best to make up for the deficiency.

Hester glanced about her bounty. Annie would be pleased with the gatherings of herbs bulging the packs sitting beside the girl on the fresh grass of the meadow.

It had been relatively easy to find the fresh clippings. The new Spring ground had provided a wealth of medicinal produce.

Annie was too old to forage any longer. Hester did not mind traipsing out into the musky, deep woods to search out the needed roots and plants.

Truth told, Hester would do anything for Annie Fergeson. The old woman was that dear to her heart.

Hester mentally counted out the sacks of herbs she had procured.

“This should easily last into the Fall.” She smiled her pleasure.

She had promised to spend the entire day and already it was late into the afternoon without a break, Hester realized.

The girl stretched her stiff muscles, her graceful arms lifting high above her head. A small sound of distress escaped her lips.

She was not aware of how lovely a posture she assumed.

Hester Hughes did not know just how beautiful she was. The long auburn hair alone would give most men pause to stop and stare. The lush curls fell in natural ringlets down her back and over her shoulders. Most days, the girl tried to look more sophisticated than she could ever possibly be. She had an image to uphold, after all.

She would twist the long full locks into some semblance of propriety at the nape of her neck, say...or pile the mass high on top of her head in a swirl of lovely curls that constantly strayed from their restraints, framing that lovely face in a halo of fire.

Hester would cuss under her breath, for she had learned many a fine word from the men of her village when they did not know a woman was about and some mishap had befallen their lives.

She would repeat the ‘vile’ words then hastily cross herself for Annie would tan her backside raw had the older woman ever heard such blasphemy coming out of Hester’s full, sensuous lips.

Hester could only see that those same lips were a tiny bit asymmetrical which she believed, made her entire face ‘off-kilter’...unattractive. In truth, Hester liked nothing about her face. Including the emerald eyes which Annie said, were so beautiful, the trees in the forest were envious of Hester’s gift from God.

Annie was prejudice, of course. Hester would smile and shake her head at such fanciful musings.

Her eyes were green, yes but an average rather sort of pale green that was nothing spectacular to note.

From the time she could understand the premise of what Annie Fergeson did in the small village the older woman and Hester called ‘home,’ Hester sensed the responsibility attached to learning all Annie had to teach.

Hester had watched numerous times how Annie took charge of a dire situation. How the woman had saved life after life in lo these many years Hester had been with Annie.

Not only the town’s people revered and respected Annie. Her fame had spread far and wide beyond the village.

It was a grave thing, being a Healer for so many. There were no real physicians to be had in the area where Hester had grown to full womanhood. No self-respecting doctor would deign to travel so far from civilized people, Annie would say.

Farmers and fishermen were of no real import to high bred city folk.

How long had she been sitting here? Hester’s mind had wandered. The girl sighed for the fact.

Her fingers ached. She experimentally stretched them, clenching her small fists into gentle balls, easing the pain. She tugged at the joints, a fixed scowl on the pretty face.

She glanced at the pumice stone by her side. “You are no m’ friend!” She decided, but she put the precious tool aside carefully.

Hester glanced about the quiet of the meadow.

Birds chirped merrily to her right. A meadowlark’s nest in the hollow of the fallen oak tree, marked the edge of the forest looming just behind her. The babies cried out for food.

A rabbit scurried hurriedly along just to the side, his nose twitching comically.

Hester’s meanderings halted abruptly.

She felt the ground beneath her stir...

A distinct thundering vibration transmitted through the thin muslin dress she wore and into her limbs and bottom.

Her ears pricked, finally recognizing the sound. The rapidly approaching report of horses’ hooves pounding heavily against the soft earth echoed about the still air.

Searching aimlessly about the area in which she reposed, Hester’s senses tingled in alarm.

Several riders came from the north, appearing on the far horizon.

Hester’s alarm heightened.

This would be no one from the small village Hester inhabited. Few men there could afford a steed, let alone ride one with such ferocity. She also knew those in her village had come to know and accept her. They would do her no harm.

The men who approached her now... their bodies seemed honed, sculptured, but these were not tenders of the soil as the men of her village.

These men... they were strangers.

After a brief hesitation, Hester swallowed hard when the steeds advanced with frightening speed.

For the harvest had been bountiful, Hester ventured further than normal on her collection day. She now cursed her lack of common sense, for her village was nowhere in sight.

The riders broke the high ridge directly before her, covering the distance to her location in remarkable time.

To try to hide... or escape, was sheer folly now.

“Good Lord above.” She whispered shakily; her eyes fixated on the approaching individuals. “... Four of them!”

Her blood ran cold as the reality of her situation dawned.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Well, it was obvious... she had not been thinking at ’tall. Now, due to her lack of forethought, she would have to try and bluff her way out of a potentially deadly situation.

Casting her decision, Hester straightened her spine and lifted her head proudly. Life was what it was. One simply had to get through the moments.

“I knew this would be a shitty day.” The woman’s full mouth tightened with annoyance as Hester sat patiently...awaiting her fate.

Reining in their horses a good six meters away, the men sat, observing the woman critically. All were rather large, unkempt and frightening to look upon, were she honest with herself.

Hester observed right back. No way in hell would she be the first to speak. Surely, they would take such an action as a sign of weakness.

Seth McFarland had seen beautiful women in his day. There was something about this small waif, sitting there so quietly defiant, which caught his immediate attention.

She clearly realized she now found herself in a precarious predicament. One part of the man thought, serves her right... out and about without even one male to protect and advise. Not that one male or twenty would truly assist her if the motley group he accompanied would decide to wreak havoc or mayhem of any real sort.

Which is exactly why Jarek Greyling chose these very men and himself for this outing. In case of trouble. They were not welcome in this English setting.

Another part of Seth only wished to protect, nurture and reassure. She seemed so lost and alone out here in this vast wilderness.

Hester waited on tenterhooks...

“...Are you the Healer, girl?” The obvious leader of the group inquired, his tone rough and urgent, but there was an underlying quality of smooth confidence that was almost hypnotic in nature.

Hester’s scowl deepened for the fact she noted such a thing at all, at such a moment.

The man had dark, thick hair which was windblown and mussed now. Beneath the beard, which was shorter and more esthetically pleasing than the burly man beside him, the man appeared in his late thirties, perhaps early forties. On first glance, however, the effect made him look older than his true years, Hester thought.

His clothes were also of a finer cut than his associates, although these men were clearly of a higher breed than those of her village. The leather trappings of the belts and vests they sported were highly sought after. The superior cut of material from which their boots were crafted was unlike anything Hester had ever seen.

Hester tried very hard to meet the dark blue orbs staring so impatiently down at her.

There was a noticeable surliness in the man’s manner and tone.

“Annie Fergeson is the Healer.” Hester knew that much, at least. A thought came out of the Cosmos, one of which she took as a sign from God. “... I am,” she smiled ever so pleasantly, keeping a polite countenance, “the witch of the glen.” Her eyes swiftly searched the menacing faces carefully... critically. “May I be of assistance?”

“Witch!” The word did not sit easily with one of the new arrivals. This older man’s face showed alarm and suspicion, which was exactly what Hester had hoped for. It also allowed a certain menace of character she had not prepared for.

But a weak link was a weak link, and in this lot, it was amazing to find even one susceptible individual, she suspected.

Seth shifted a thoughtful stare towards the bull of a man down the line.

Angus McGavin possessed the brains of a jackass. The blacksmith would take that word to heart if Seth knew the man.

This could prove harmful for the stupid girl who just now opened her mouth when it would have been more advisable to simply shut the hell up.

Seth thought he could avert any further damage, however, if he played the situation to his advantage.

“I can believe it,” Seth’s deep baritone piped up, for it was just short of disrespectful, drawing attention to himself instead, “with that flock of fiery red hair.”

Shifting an annoyed glance towards the voice, Hester narrowed fiery eyes.

“But then, I would have thought... a Siren instead.” The man grinned slowly, allowing a more acceptable turn to the conversation, hopefully. “Dangerous all the same, I suppose.” He shrugged carelessly after a moment’s hesitation. “But those captivating green eyes almost make a man forget the danger presented.”

Hester blinked her shock. No man had ever dared look at her person the way this man was looking. She felt as if she was half-undressed, her cheeks suddenly flushed a vibrant pink. It was imperative she not show any sign of weakness, but this person was forcing her into just such a moment.

Her gaze swept him in the same insolent manner the man had her, she hoped.

His masculine, virile features caught her attention immediately. The man’s sun-burnt flesh and dark hair caused his startling grey eyes to appear as mystical and bright as the Winter moon’s surface.

His stocky, well-trimmed bulk made the others of his kind seem small in comparison. Especially now, sitting atop his noble steed. The man leaned his forearm casually on a thick thigh, his obstinate gaze fixed solely upon her face and figure.

Hester spared the annoyance a glance before returning her attention to the one in charge. “Be ye Saxon...or Norman?”

The question seemed to amuse some and confuse others. Those factions, after all, had long ago disappeared into antiquity.

Seth held his amusement admirably. The cheeky little bitch. Saxon or Norman, indeed.

A perplexed and mystified look appeared David Dunbar’s angular face. He leaned slightly, keeping his words for Seth only. “What the hell does that mean?”

Seth chuckled lowly. “It means my little red head has more balls than you have ever had.” He admired the gumption behind such a nonsensical deploy.

“Your red head!” David lifted an inquisitive brow. “Does the lady have no say in her choices?”

"You have a woman.” Seth reminded sotto voce, shifting his weight to better fit the saddle beneath him. “...But no. The matter is already decided in m’ mind.”

David scrutinized the woman carefully. “She nay look the type a man fucks, then leaves in the lurch, which is exactly what you are planning, know I you.”

Seth studied the woman as well, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“She looks the type to cut off a man’s private parts while he sleeps then feed them to the neighborhood cat.” Was David’s considered opinion. “You are welcome to her, Sir. And more power to y’.”

“That is not what she will do with m’ private parts...trust me, lad.” Seth assured confidently.

“And what of Maude Higgins?” David enjoyed causing strife and dissension from time to time, his grin saying as much.

“If I know Maude, and I do,” Seth grinned right back, listening to the exchange between the Healer and Jarek Greyling to the best of his ability, “she is already entertaining another in my stead. Which is all well and good.” He strained to hear the lyrical voice. “We understand each other, Maude and myself.”

“A wonderful arrangement if a man can achieve it.” David granted.

“It is.” Seth was happy with the way of things. “The perfect arrangement, ask you me.”

The leader’s face, etched with anxiety and stress, turned thunderous. “I have no time for this stupidity!” He snarled a strained growl. “Annie Fergeson sent me!”

The man shoved a small satchel towards the woman, demanding she take it.

Hester arose gracefully, approaching the men cautiously, tentatively taking the object to inspect. Her brows knitted, for she recognized the print on the linen. Only last season, she and Annie fashioned summer dresses from the light material.

Though hastily thrown together and crudely tied, Hester knew Annie herself created the bundle, for whatever reason.

Clasping the bag to her chest, the proclamation gave Hester pause for thought. “... Annie sent you?”

“My child is ailing! I am in need of a healer to come with me immediately!” Sensing its Master’s mood, the horse pranced about, pawing anxiously at the ground beneath its feet. Reining in the steed without thought, the man stared hard at the girl, waiting for a reply.

The girl studied the lot before her studiously, “You are no from around here. Come with you... where?”

She raked the doubtful group with more than wary eyes.

“If we wanted you, girl,” the largest of the men seemed slightly amused at the prospect presented, “do y’ not think we would have already done the deed?” His grey eyes seemed to dance with amusement at her expense. “We are here for a healer and that is all we want.”

Seth was a skilled equivocator, tempering his own truths with his friend’s needs in this instance.

Hester had read a book once. The tattered remnant of pages still resided on the tiny shelf above her cot in Annie’s cottage. It told of Normans and Saxons and knights and gallantry.

These men could have ridden straight from the pages, except these men had ridden hard and long this day. Not in a battle, but out of necessity.

Dirt and dust covered their clothes. Beards of varying lengths, windswept from their fierce riding and tangled by sweat, hid much of their rugged faces. They looked tired but determined to achieve their goal.

“We have come far. There is no time to waste!” The leader was losing patience, his tone and manner suggested as much. “You must accompany us!” He did not enjoy having to repeat himself either, Hester surmised by the dark, forbidding scowl on the handsome face.

“... How old is this child?” Why it mattered, Hester did not know. She was stalling the inevitable only.

“He is but four years of age.” The reply came in a raspy grunt.

Hester closed her eyes, then hastily gathered her herbs into two large satchels. “And how long has he ailed?” She dreaded the answer.

“We started at sunrise. He fell ill twelve hours hence.” Seth took the opportunity to advise and hopefully ingratiate himself back into the conversation...but also his thoughts were brought back to the real reason the trip was made. “He is but a wee bairn, Lass.” The heavy Scottish brogue was often difficult for Hester to understand. “We are in desperate need of your assistance.”

“Twelve hours. Which means an endless return trip.” Her features were grim. “I must warn you,” she dreaded having to do so, “such a long period without this,” she held the satchels aloft, “I cannot promise... a positive outcome.” She licked suddenly dry lips, having to stare into the frightened eyes of the boy’s sire. “Do you understand my meaning?”

Seth motioned to his companion. David dutifully brought a horse to the front.

David was not especially known for his subtle reactions to any or all situations, but the man was a fierce warrior when called to be one. Seth considered the younger man a close, trusted friend.

Not many could lay claim to such an honor.

“Mount!” The command was clipped and succinct.

Hester had not noted the riderless horse before as it was brought forth. She stared at the huge animal, somewhat taken aback.

“Can you not ride, girl?” Jarek Greyling impatiently snipped.

“Of course I can ride!” She snapped right back. “I am pondering just how to get astride the great beast!”

The steed eyed Hester challengingly, obviously high-spirited. It twisted and turned every which way, eager to allow some of that temperament free rein.

“Assist her!” Seth’s command was sent Angus McGavin’s way on purpose, his all-too-easy smile and light-hearted manner challenging the larger man in a definite way.

The one who apparently issued the orders to these men was the one who troubled Hester the most, were she honest with herself. She watched the individual closely, even now.

A hearty laugh erupted when the command was not immediately obeyed. This Seth person dismounted himself, covering the distance needed. “Afraid of the witch, are we, Angus?”

The latter managed a sheepish grimace. “I fear nothing!” The man moodily brooded, his dark eyes observing Hester belligerently.

Seth crossed, his eyes meeting the wide set sage green ones easily. David drew the animal close, holding the reins. Seth offered a bold sweep of the small, delicate figure before laying hands on the tiny waist. He enjoyed Hester’s gasp of maidenly shock for such an unheard-of transgression.

Sturdy hands lifted the girl bodily onto the spirited horse, another gravelly chuckle escaping the man’s throat. “Except a wee slip of a woman-child.”

Those grey eyes noted Hester’s pantaloons, which were now visible care anyone look. In his haste, he sat the woman astride the horse, as a male would ride, mindless of her dress. The muslin caught against the width of the saddle, rising above what any decent woman would show of her petticoats.

Clutching her bulging satchels to her chest, the woman hastily fixed the material as best she was able. Primly pulling the dress down, Hester shielded what must be covered. The demure action produced another grin of malice from the large man.

Hester pushed the insistent hands from her waist. “I am no child!” She met the silvery smoke of his stare defiantly.

That stare traveled her body freely. “I stand corrected.” Her antagonist offered an ever so minute bow. A rather mocking one, to Hester’s way of thinking.

“Seth!” the leader barked his waning patience. “We ride!”

Hester waited her turn to join in the line of riders, one man allowing her the space.

All obeyed the brusque command as the giant pulled himself into his saddle with effortless ease, his mood a thing of the past, a more serious expression replacing the usual sardonic one Hester had come to know.

“I envy the damned horse.” David sighed lightly, seeing the Healer could handle the animal, just. “Would not mind spending a few minutes between such fetching thighs.”

Seth held his steed in check. “It would not be more than a few ‘seconds’ between those thighs.” he taunted with a smile. “Considering it would be you doing the deed.”

David pulled a face. “Very funny. Besides,” both men urged their horses forward with practiced ease, “Jarek would cut off m’ cock were we even to think of delaying this trip for any reason, I highly suspect.”

Seth nodded, his mood altering. “Aye. We must keep the boy in mind at all times.”

It took both men little time to catch up to the riders ahead. Seth reined close to the woman, keeping his beast abreast of her own in case of mishap.

She rode better than he imagined one of her station might, but it was a grueling time ahead. He would be interested to see how she fared in the long run.

The horse beneath her jerked forward, offsetting the Hester slightly. Tightening her grip on the reins, Hester grasped them more firmly in hand as the animal fell in beside her adversary.

“I knew this day would be hell.” Hester cursed her vexation, too occupied to note Seth’s grin of amusement for the stoutly stated belief.

Sighing her lot in life, she began what would be the beginning of a very long journey.