Page 90 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Here’s a Health unto his Majesty,
With a Fa, la, la, la,la, la, la,
Conversion to his Enemies,
With a Fa, la, la, la ,la, la, la,
And he that will nae pledge his Health,
I wish him neither Wit nor Wealth,
Nor yet a rope to hang himself,
With a Fa, la, la, la ,la, la, la, la, la, la,
With a Fa, la, la, la ,la, la, la!
By the end of the little ditty, the song had passed down most of the army, and been picked up even by those who were injured and being carted along at the rear of the procession.
As the bagpipes played the final accompanying note there was much laughter and sarcastic cheering for the King of England.
Charlotte’s head was such a whirl. Though she had traveled extensively with her father’s army, she had never been anywhere near a battle. The sensation of the battle itself—the assault that had taken place on all of her senses—had been quite enough. The casual way in which men went back to their bluff, careless selves after watching both their enemies and their friends killed and maimed...
She turned her horse away from the column. She felt flushed and dizzy.
“Sassenach!” Edward called after her. “Where do ye think ye’re off to?”
Charlotte heard him turn his horse after her.
“I just need to sit for a moment,” she gasped.
She made it to the edge of a small copse, turned her horse around it so that she could not be seen from the column and slid from her saddle.
“I—I don’t understand,” she gasped, fanning her face with a hand—whether to cool off or beat the tears away, she was not sure.
The terrible weight of guilt that she felt at her father’s death—at the hand that she had played in it—mixed nauseatingly with the joy she felt at being free at last.
She stuttered for a few moments longer, then Edward’s arms were wrapped about her and his muscular body was pressed against hers; a reassuringly steadfast weight. She leaned her head against his chest.
“It might seem uncarin’ and unthinkin’ after so many men have died,” Edward said, as he ran his fingers through her mess of curl, “but this is how many men deal with Death—especially so soon after escapin’ him.”
No doubt, much sorrow will be negated by the fall of my father and the feud that dies with him.
“They might be laughin’ and jestin’ now, but come tonight most o’ them will be dead drunk, cryin’ and singin’ songs fer those that have fallen.”
I have learned something of men since setting out with Edward, but I can see that there is still plenty left to learn about their strange ways.
“Can we sit?” Charlotte said, abruptly.
They sat. The turf was springy and fragrant under them.
“Sassen—” Edward began, but Charlotte cut him off by pulling the big Highlander to her and kissing him hard on the mouth.
She broke away from him, started fumbling with the neck of his battle-stained shirt, wrestling at the front of his breeches.
“What are ye—” Edward tried again.
Charlotte put a hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to speak,” she said. “I do not want to think. I just want to be with you. I just want tofeel, just for a little while.”
