Chapter 4: A companion

I lay back, catching my breath and letting some of the nervous energy drain away. So far I had been in this timeline for two days and I had now killed three men. Yip, my 'death is common' chant was proving very true indeed. I rolled over and stood up, crossing to the woman to see if she needed help. I looked down at her and saw her eyes widen as she took in my size and the jeans and boots I was wearing. She was quite obviously still spooked, probably in shock from the rape and watching both men die.

She appeared young, perhaps twenty or so, with dark hair and dark eyes. She was slightly built and her breasts, still bare and on display, were perfectly rounded little apples, slightly upturned towards the peak and with hard nipples on the tips. That was as much as I could tell in this light. I realised I was staring and I turned my head, flushing red as I felt my cock beginning to harden.

"Fuck Scott, that's great. She's just been raped and you're staring at her tits as if you're going to take up where those two bozos left off."

I knew a fair amount of Gaelic from school where I had passed standard grade. Dredging up my memories of that I tried to haltingly re-assure her that she was safe now and I meant her no harm. I crossed to the piles of clothing the men had discarded and returned to offer her a plaid to cover herself with.

What's your name and who were these men?" I asked, speaking slowly as I tried to recall and form the right words in Gaelic.

She took a moment to cover herself, sitting up and drawing the plaid tight. She looked at me again, her eyes still wide, tears streaming down her lovely face.

"I am Kirsty nic Ian and those were two of my Lords men." She got out at last.

Her voice was sweet, the Gaelic lilting and musical when she spoke it, despite the sobs that acted as punctuation.

"And just who is your Lord?" I asked.

She looked at me fearfully as she replied, "Fergus mac Erc, King of the Scots. My deepest thanks Sir, for coming to my rescue, but I'm afraid when it is discovered you have killed two of his men you will be hunted down and slaughtered."

I gulped at this but tried to put on a brave face.

"Surely your Lord, this King Fergus, would not kill someone for putting an end to the rape of an innocent lady?"

"But I am no Lady, Sir," She sobbed again, "my father is but a lowly farmer and I am but chattel. I tell you that what these two were doing is all too common and not regarded by the high-born as wrong."

She began to shiver violently, reaction perhaps fully setting in. I scoured the ground beside the fire and spotted the leather flask. Picking it up, I removed the stopper and held it to my nose. 'Uisge beatha' as it was called in the Gaelic - the water of life, or whisky in English. I handed it to her and told her to take a drink of it. She held the flask to her lips and took a sip, immediately coughing as the fiery spirit caught her throat. She bent her head to her chest as she coughed and held the flask out for me to take.

Her coughing subsided and she once more raised her head. The whisky had brought a deep rosy glow to her cheeks and I thought she looked stunning, beautiful beyond any words that I knew. The alcohol seemed to have helped settle her, as there was no more sobbing. These highland lassies are made of stern stuff I thought to myself - 'tougher to survive' right enough.

"Well Kirsty, where are you from so that I can get you home?"

"My father's steading is near Loch Melfort," she replied "and that is where they took me from this afternoon as I was walking with the cattle. But that is some miles away, through the pass, for these two have ridden some hours since they took me, getting steadily drunker as they boasted what they meant to do with me."

I realised she said they had ridden but I hadn't seen any sign of horses.

"Where did they leave the horses?"

"Yonder, tied to those trees." She said.

I wandered over and sure enough there were two horses tethered to some squat trees. The horses had very plain, simple, saddles and rudimentary tack that had been left on. They seemed quite content, grazing on the available grass.

I returned to where Kirsty was sitting wrapped in the plaid.

"I've found the horses but I think we will have to wait for morning before I can get you home." I told her.

That started her sobbing again.

"You don't understand Sir, I cannot go home. My Lord in return for the death of his men will surely kill me. Most probably my father will be killed too."

She dropped her head into her hands and continued sobbing. I sank to my knees beside her and put my arm around her drawing her to my chest and stroking her hair.

"There, there, weesht lassie, I'll not let anyone harm you."

I felt her tears on my chest and only then recollected that I had run out of the tent without a shirt. I thought quickly about what to do next. I didn't think Kirsty would be up to walking through the dark back to the tent. I wasn't even sure how she would react to the tent. The best course of action was probably to stay here for the night and to build up this fire.

"I need to get some things from my camp," I told her. "I will be back in a few minutes."

Her eyes watched me fearfully as I turned and walked back towards my camp. I stooped to pick up my binos on the way and when I reached the tent, I grabbed my pack and sleeping bag and returned to her. She eyed the rucksack and sleeping bag curiously and when I unzipped the bag there was a look of wonder in her eyes. I told her to get in the bag and she nervously slipped inside but wouldn't let me zip it up again. She almost seemed scared that she would be trapped inside.

I left her there and walked round the campsite to drag more wood in to feed the fire. Dragging the bodies of the dead men off into the darkness out of the firelight, I worked the spear loose and cleaned the worst of the blood off of it. I pulled on my shirt and fleece and then wrapped myself in the remaining plaid, lying close enough to the fire to feel its warmth.

"Good night Kirsty nic Ian." I said to her quietly.

"Good night Sir." She replied.

I must have tossed and turned every few minutes as the side of me furthest from the fire became cold. I heard a rustle and turned to find Kirsty draping the other plaid over me, smiling but saying nothing. I watched her return to the sleeping bag and couldn't miss her kilt ride up her thighs as she slid in. Her head was bowed but I fancied she was watching me from under hooded eyes and a smile twitched the corners of her mouth as she found me staring at her. I sighed and tried to get to sleep.

Some time later I turned again and leaned over to place another couple of branches on the fire. I looked over at her sleeping form and noticed that she had thrown her right arm out of the sleeping bag, pushing the cover off of her chest in the process. Her blouse was still torn asunder and her little breasts were exposed to my gaze. I lay back down on my side, feeling my cock rise to attention once again.

"Scott get a grip man!" I chided myself. Turning over to face the other way, I missed the knowing smile that appeared on her face.

When I awoke the next morning I was very stiff from lying on the ground. I threw some more wood on the fire and looked over at Kirsty. She was covered up once more but I could see her eyes were open and they were following me as I walked around. I returned to my own camp and struck the tent. Before returning to Kirsty I checked the snares. Two were empty but to my surprise the third held a good-sized pheasant.

"Result!" I said out loud as I loosened the snare and grabbed the bird.

"Do you know what to do with one of these?" I asked her when I returned.

She smiled and nodded, throwing back the sleeping bag and reaching for the pheasant. She realised her breasts were on display again and moved to hold her blouse closed. It seemed to me she didn't try to do so very quickly though and I gulped as I turned away with the sight of her upturned little titties burned on my brain. I grabbed my trenching tool and walked over closer to the loch-side. The ground here was very sandy and I was able to dig two shallow graves reasonably quickly. I dragged the two bodies over to the graves and rolled them in, putting one of the swords and all the other stuff I couldn't use in beside the first body. I covered them over with the sandy soil.

Searching through the clothing, I had found several potentially useful items. There were two dirks and two sporrans. Opening the sporrans I found they were empty but I decided they might come in handy anyway. I also found an ornate broach lying on the ground.

When I returned to the fire there was a wonderful smell of roasting meat and I could see that Kirsty had plucked the pheasant and had it cooking nicely. Minus the feathers the bird was disappointingly small looking and I rummaged in my pack for the remaining rabbit, setting it close to the fire to warm up. I handed one of the plaids to Kirsty and the broach I had found. Her eyes lit up at the jewellery and she quickly donned the plaid, wearing it over one shoulder and diagonally across her chest and back. She tied it at her waist with a thong that seemed to be attached to it and then pinned the broach on her left breast. I had assumed the broach was somehow connected to securing the plaid and so felt a little stupid when I found it didn't. I tried to copy what she had done and soon had my own plaid on snugly. The thing had a surprising weight to it.

I buckled on the swordbelt I had retained and slid the sword into the scabbard. I gave one of the dirks to Kirsty and stuck the other in my rucksack. I pored over the map as we both shared the rabbit and the bird. The pheasant meat had a yellow colour and had strange, thickish membranes between the various muscles that formed the bulk of the meat. But it was tasty. Kirsty squealed out loud when she tasted the rabbit after I had salted it. She was fascinated by the little shaker I had - salt in one end and pepper in the other.

My watch told me it was already after nine o'clock and I decided I had put off the inevitable long enough. We doused the fire and I picked up the fully packed rucksack, now with the tent tied onto it once more, and grabbed the spear. We walked towards where the horses were tethered.

They looked smaller in the daylight, much smaller than the horses I had seen in my own time. I have never been on a horse and wasn't really sure where to start. My height and long legs proved to be an advantage as I approached the bigger of the two and swung my leg over its back. I had made sure to approach from the side where my sword wouldn't get in the way when I mounted but even so the rucksack and sword made things awkward for someone who had never mounted a horse before. I was up, unsteady and very unsure, but up.