Betrayed. Christopher Dinsdale
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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?”
“Yes! Hurry!”
And with that, the young girl turned and sprinted away.
“So, how many fair damsels are awaiting our arrival with open arms this time?”
Prince Henry lowered the hand that was protecting his eyes from the early morning sun and gave his Italian friend a poisonous stare. Antonio’s twinkling dark eyes rolled heavenward, and he shook his head sadly, allowing the thick black curls that covered his head to sway back and forth. Prince Henry returned his gaze to the coast.
“Do not forget that I am paying you to complete the mapping of this voyage. Next time leave your secret ambitions of being a court jester in Venice.”
Antonio smiled at his captain. He often thought of the life Prince Henry could have had if he had chosen not to accept his inherited role as Protector of the Templar Order. He had seen on many occasions the countless number of wealthy and beautiful women who had attempted to woo the ruggedly handsome prince. He had caught the female whispers at castle dinners as they admired his chiselled Nordic features and the thick, wavy blond hair that framed his penetrating blue eyes. Prince Henry could have married a princess, enjoyed the royal trappings of mistresses, wealth and power and lived a comfortable life without ever having to take one step beyond the borders of his beloved Scotland. And yet this charismatic man chose to stay true to his two true loves, his wife, Princess Janet, and his devotion to the Templar Order.
Yet those qualities were not the ones which had bound Antonio to his leader and best friend. The intoxicating power of the sea ran equally through their veins. They both had a burning love for the challenge and adventure of ocean exploration. Their duty to the Templar Order had taken them to the coasts of Africa and Asia Minor. But those voyages paled in comparison to the miraculous crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. Together, they had followed the ancient maps of Prince Henry’s Viking ancestors to the land the Nordic explorers called Vinland. It had been almost four hundred years since the last European had set foot on these distant lands! Vinland was indeed beautiful and seemingly endless. But as the Viking sagas foretold, it was a land already claimed.
“Are they stained red like those at our last landing?”
Prince Henry shook his head. “No red stain this time. They are all dark-skinned.”
“Praise the Lord,” Antonio replied. “We might not need the cannon this time.”
Prince Henry smiled. “Let’s hope not.” He nodded. “This reception seems quite different. No sign of weapons. The people actually seem to be enthusiastic to see us, not nervous or angry.”
“Enthusiastic to have us for dinner, perhaps?” Antonio quipped.
Prince Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Prepare a skiff for launch.”
Antonio squinted at the people lining the shore. “I’ve always