2 The Highwayman

That morning started perfectly average. I got up off my straw mattress and ran my mother's comb through my hair before re-braiding it. I went to the outhouse, then back inside to attach my father's sword to my belt. I picked up the water buckets and slung them over my shoulder, then walked down the road to the river. Father had always worn his sword when he went outside. Copying him this way made me feel safe, like he was with me wherever I went. On the way, I saw a rough-looking man that I didn't recognize.

I squared my shoulders and gave him a glare. Mother taught me to never show weakness to a stranger. It was a lesson I took to heart. He leered at me toothlessly. I stared him down and put a hand on the hilt of my father's sword.

He stopped in the middle of the road, and so did I. We stood about 10 paces apart. He grinned at me and licked his lips, scratching at his balls. I regarded him coolly. He was armed with a crude knife at his belt, nothing compared to my father's elegant steel blade, but deadly nevertheless.

"Aye lass," said he, "wouldna ye find a poor feller some water hereabouts? I'm sore thirsty and weary from the road."

"The water I fetch is for myself and my husband, sir." Mother said that men were more likely to attack if they thought you were alone. Indeed, this statement had him frowning and looking doubtfully up the road where I came from.

"Whar's ye husband now then? Lettin' a little girl such as yerself be about all alone? Does he no give a care for your honor then?" He grinned at me wickedly, laughing at his own insult. "Mayhaps I aught to teach him not to leave his woman by her lonesome then?" He took a step near me threateningly.

I dropped my buckets and drew my father's sword. "I am fully prepared to defend my own honor, sir. You'd best be on your way."

He laughed, throwing his head back. "HA! The little bitch thinks to scare me with her husband's sword. Ye best put that down before ye hurt yerself." He drew his knife and walked closer. "I'll teach ye a lesson for yer disrespect, chit."

I did not back down, though my heart hammered in my chest. I had never fought someone for real. I drew in my breath, and stepped forward.

The surprise in his eyes turned to anger when he saw me come toward him. He slashed out with his knife, lunging at me. I hit him on the wrist with the flat of the sword and kicked him in the chest. He dropped the knife and fell back with a grunt. Before he could get up, I stood over him with my father's sword at his throat. The exchange had lasted a bare few seconds, but I was breathing as if I had run for hours. I could feel the signs of panic rising in me. I did not want to kill this man.

He glared up at me, hate filling his eyes.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted at him, then I took off running, water buckets forgotten on the side of the road. I ran through the forest like a startled deer, sword still in my hand. I lept over bushes and fallen trees, sprinting up hill. I ran and ran, trying to burn off the terrified energy that filled me. I wouldn't get lost, I knew these woods so well, but I didn't know where I was going. Finally I saw a hollowed out tree and hid inside it. I tried to quiet my breathing, but instead I started sobbing. I had been so scared to fight, and then so scared to take a man's life. I wished my parents were around to protect me. I was so alone!

As the sun climbed a bit higher in the sky, I began to breathe a little easier. I dried my tears on my dress and cautiously stepped out into the sunlight. The forest was quiet around me. I listed carefully, but all I could hear was wind and birdsong. I realized how thirsty I was, and that I'd have to go back to the road to get the water buckets I'd dropped. I shivered. If that highwayman tried to attack me again I would probably have to kill him, and this time he would be prepared for my skill with the sword.

I cautiously walked back through the woods, stopping to listen for movement in the forest. It took me three times as long to get back to the road as it had to get all the way out to the hollow tree. When I could see the road through the trees I hid and waited, but there was no one. Eventually I came out and found the place where I dropped the buckets. The man and his knife were gone. I picked up my buckets and walked to the river, looking over my shoulder the whole way.

As I went about my day, planting and weeding, looking for snowberries, and checking rabbit traps, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I didn't know if it was just nerves from the confrontation, or if that man was somewhere out in the forest waiting for my guard to drop. That afternoon I scared a grouse in the brush and it flew up in front of me, making me cry again. I decided to forgo foraging for the day and go back home to practice with my father's sword. I thought that it would calm my nerves and maybe intimidate anyone watching from trying to attack me.

As I begin the forms, I pray to the Gods and Goddesses to let my family guide me and strengthen me. I ask for their wisdom and support to get me through the night and all the days of my life.

The pricking sensation of being watched intensified. I heard a twig snap and I whirled toward the sound, my father's sword ready.

Five men step out of the woods. I see the Highwayman from before among them. I narrow my eyes and wait.

"Ah! Here is the witch!" said the Highwayman. "In the village they say ye has no husband, nor father neither." He laughed darkly. "They say yer a witch little girl. And a witch is a whore, so we want a little taste of yer wares, whore."

His friends laughed with him,

"I bet ye taste just nice."

"We'll see ye on yer knees all night, witch."

"Wot ye got tha little sword fer, whore?"

"When I'm done with yah, I'm gonna shove that sword up that sweet little ass, girl."

Suddenly one of them lunged at me with a knife. I slammed the butt of the sword into the side of his temple. The rest of them came at me. My Father's sword was a lightning bolt, slashing down and catching one man across the chest, he screamed and fell back. The next I cut through the belly. His guts spilled out into his hands as he stared down at himself. He fell to his knees and I cut his throat. Another stabbed at me and I barely blocked it with my forearm. The knife bit into my bone but I couldn't even feel it. I cut him from groin to belly, the way one would prepare a deer. I felt one coming up behind me and I slashed the Highwayman across his face, before turning again to have my sword bite into the shoulder of the last man. He screamed with rage and tried to kick my legs out from under me. I jumped up and caught him under the chin with the tip of my father's sword. Blood gushed out of his mouth as he collapsed.

I looked around to see the Highwayman running back to the woods, clutching his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

I stood there panting, four dead bodies surrounding me.

Slowly I felt the pain in my left arm seep into my consciousness. My blood ran down to my hand. The wound was deep and bleeding profusely. I wiped my father's sword on my already bloodied dress and sheathed it, then pressed my hand against my wound, trying to slow the bleeding. I stumbled into the cabin and found a rag to press into it. I remembered that Mother had shown me how to stop bad bleeding when Kristoph had cut his leg open on a rock when he was jumping into the river.

I placed a small dagger in the coals from last night's fire and waited for it to glow orange. Before I could think better of it, I pressed it into the wound on my arm. I screamed as it sizzled and hissed. Then I blacked out.