The wolf wound in my thigh was itchy so without thinking I reached down to scratch it and my heart missed a beat. The jagged wound had been stitched. I rubbed my finger along the coarse stitching. I touched the wound in my side. Stitched! What in hell? My head was spinning. How long have I been sleeping? I tried to understand what my senses were telling me. The room was in motion. I blinked and struggled against a restraint that held me on my bed. I struggled to see something, anything, in the dark, dank room.
Outside I heard voices. Where am I? My arms were free so I pulled on the rope that tied me to my bed. Why am I tied! The rescue plan, I have to get up! I started to panic, I had no idea where I was, and yet I knew that I had to meet the servant girl, Nelly Bass, at the servant gate at sunrise. I couldn’t think clearly. The damp smell of saltwater-cured wood was all too familiar to me. I untied the ropes and rolled out of the bunk. My weak legs collapsed and the violent roll of the room caused me to fall with a thump onto a hard wooden floor. Suddenly, sickeningly, I knew I was not in a tavern keeper’s room. I am at sea!
Crawling to overcome the pitch and roll, I reached a set of narrow wooden steps, pulled myself up and pushed hard to open the hatch. A wall of water crashed into me.
“Close that hatch!” A sailor tied to the capstan yelled above the howling wind.
I grabbed a wooden rail next to the hatch-frame to prevent being swept away by wind and water. Lying flat on the soaking deck, I kicked the hatch door closed.
“William, go below and seal your hatchway!” The voice was unmistakable. My uncle James stood braced at the steering station leaning into the wind, next to the helmsman. Holding tight to the wooden rail, I ducked as a second wave washed over me. “We need a man aloft to secure those lines!” James yelled and a soaked figure crawled along the deck toward the mainmast rigging.
The storm we were sailing through was nothing compared to the storm of emotion that raged in me. I have been betrayed! Rational thought flew from my mind like the spray from the raging waves. At that moment I didn’t care if I lived or died. I had been stolen and all hope of saving Helen stolen with me.
My face wet with seawater and tears of rage, I scrambled toward James. He is responsible! He betrayed me! As I reached the short step that led up to the stern deck and steering station, a monstrous wave crashed over the rail, hitting me broadside and washing me down the deck head first through a wide scupper and into the churning lips of the frothing ocean.
Just as my head plunged into the water, a strong hand gripped my heel and pulled me back on board. Gasping to regain my breath, I reached out and took the hand of the sailor who had saved me from a watery grave. The broad shouldered man pulled us both back along the deck by hauling on a rope tied to the capstan. He put a tether under both my arms and around my chest and synched me to his own line.
“What the hell were you thinking?” The sailor put his arm over me as another huge wave crashed over the side.
“I shouldn’t be here. He betrayed me.” I pointed to James and shivered as the wind lashed my face with stinging beads of water.
“Aye, well if we survive this storm, I am sure there will be plenty of time to settle the matter.”
The ship heaved rising to the crest of a giant wave, then plunged down the other side, pounding into the ocean at the trough. I held on for all I was worth, thankful that we built sounds ships in Freswick bay. Confronting my Uncle would have to wait.

THE END
 

#
“Sound the alarm!” The shout came from atop the right battlement, “Hey! Hey! Sound the Alarm; someone has just fallen from the far tower!”
Shorty, ears pricked, head down ran hard into the Jacko’s back knocking him head over heal. The boy, free of Jacko’s grip tried to get hold of Shorty’s rein, but the horse was too fast and reared high kicking his hooves at the scared boy who turned and ran causing the other guard to run after him. Shorty whinnied and circled Helen stamping the ground with his hooves.
Nelly, eyes wide and mouth open looked at Helen. “She’s given you freedom. Don’t waste it. Go! Go on!.”
Shorty pushed his head under Helen’s arm and she needed no further urging. She threw herself onto Shorty’s back. “I don’t even know your name,” she asked just as Jacko scrambled back to his feet.
“It’s Nelly. Now get out before you infect us all.” Nelly threw her arms around Jacko who held his back, still shaken by Shorty’s attack. “Protect me, Jacko.”
“I’ll never forget you Nelly.” Helen didn’t have to give Shorty the signal to run. She held on tightly as the little horse leapt from standing to full gallop in two strides. He raced through the rain away from the castle. As they reached the crest of a rise Helen noticed an empty wagon in the far distance and pulled him up.
“Not that way Shorty.” She turned him northward and the two galloped along the ridge until they came to a fork in the road. Both choices would lead her north, the road on her left up onto higher ground and through the highland, the road on her right down toward the water following the coast. She looked behind and to her great relief saw no one following. She was about to take the coastal road when she noticed further ahead three riders crest a rise of land. Fearful that they would be Keiths, she turned Shorty toward the highland road.
“Take me to William, Shorty.” Shorty turned and started down the coastal road, but Helen pulled him back. “Not that way.” She urged him on, but Shorty stood his ground looking down the coastal road. “Come on, Shorty, we have to go.”
With ears back, and a last glance down the coastal road, Shorty turned and with a nod of his head, cantered up the steep highland road that would lead them north to Freswick Bay.

Dugald Keith’s gummy, sleep-filled eyes slowly opened. He had passed out in a huge chair in the grand room. The fire was out and he felt damp and cold. His head hurt. The large room stunk with the stench of stale ale, but Dugald was more concerned with his heart that raced within his heaving chest. He looked for something to drink as he rolled his tongue around his dry mouth. The few drops left in a tankard by his chair were not satisfying. Grunting, he rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Crusts of bread and chunks of uneaten food lay on the floor along with empty ale jugs. In the midst of the mess his cousin, Edward Keith, lay half-naked, flat on his back, mouth wide open, snoring.
Dugald chuckled. It had been a night to celebrate. After all, it would be his last as a single man. His cousins had not disappointed him. The drink and food had been fine, although he had refused the concubines and servant girls. He wanted to wait. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“Water, someone bring water!” No one came, so he tried to conjure spit with his lips and tongue to wet his sticky gums.
Tonight would be different. His wife to be was certainly no concubine, no servant. He pictured Helen naked, and slipped his hand beneath his tunic. He had awoken hard, and it felt good. His closed eyes curtained his mind, providing the privacy he wanted with his naked bride. Beneath his tunic he pulled and stoked, but stopped abruptly as the pressure building within.
Dugald rose from his chair and stood for a moment allowing the dizziness to subside. A shiver shook off the cold and damp. From somewhere outside a cock crowed as he walked into the hall and started to climb the winding stairway that led to the tower.