COMPETING LOYALTIES

My face sizzled in the heat as I cried out in anguish. But my father kept his hand grasped to my neck pushing it into this lake of fire. My body began to scream; my muscles were aching and twitching. Small tears from my eyes evaporated into the flames as I choked on the smoke. My body finally began to give in and my vision went black. Suddenly my father jerked me back with such a force that I collapsed to the ground. I grasped for air in a fit of coughing. He kneeled down to my face; his breathe reeking of whisky. He slowly breathed into my stinging wound. He attempted to look into my eyes but his drunken demeanor made them look just over my shoulder. “That’ll teach ya to do what I say boy!” Stumbling, he rose, faltering towards the door, leaving me alone in the house. I sat there curled on the ground staring into the fireplace that nearly killed me just minutes ago. I don’t know how long I sat there. Minutes, maybe hours, but eventually I got up to toss the bottles that littered the floor and then went on to dress my wounds.

At dusk, my mother and I quietly sat in the kitchen, awaiting my father’s return. Her face was weathered and dreary, although she was still young and in her carrying ages. Her long gray hair wrapped around her full belly as if it was cradling the baby inside. We decided to name the baby Grace in hopes that my father would be gentle and patient with her. My mother would occasionally look up from Grace, eyeing my burn but keeping quiet, just as I wouldn’t mention the fresh scare across her cheek. The abuse we experienced was a powerful connection between us; we could






know without sharing. Both of us felt anguish for Grace’s arrival for it was yet
another heart that would become shattered,
and she could end up like her sister before her. In a fit of emotion, I stood up and beheld out the window my little
sister’s grave. All we could make for her departure was a small cross in which we
engraved the name “Sarah Mass.” My mother rose and stood beside me, smoothing her hand across my shoulder. “I know ,Will, I know,” her tears seemed to whisper.
My father suddenly stumbled in the door with such a rush that he nearly toppled into my mother and I. “Come!” he roared. He lumbered back into the streets of London, my mother and I quickly followed behind him. Upon arriving on the streets, we joined a swarm of people. Some were screaming, others were crying, and some rejoicing in laughter. All I could see was pof England’s people. We pushed through the crowds in hopes of a better view but we couldn’t get by. My father pushed away from the scene and started to go towards the street in hopes of finding a back way. The street we came up to was busy with carriages and horses frantically going about. And then it hit me that now was the perfect time to leave my father and the abuse behind. The heavy crowds and traffic would easily surround me as soon as I left. I rushed out into the open street. I began cutting through the carriages with hatred and bitterness, tears streaking down my face. I never looked back; I just kept running till I didn’t know where or even who I was anymore.
That night I wandered the streets in hopes of food and lodging. With no luck, I settled for a damp alleyway that was hidden from the rest of the city. I shivered and coughed. The cold didn’t mix well with my burnt and tired lungs. Although wheezing, and hungry, my body finally settled down long enough for me to say my prayers and drift off.
My eyes shot open. Faces loomed over mine and their hands concealed my mouth. I kicked and slashed in a frenzy of adrenaline. “Hussshh, my dear boy,” a woman whispered. “We don’t want to hurt you.” I finally calmed down long enough to assess the situation. It was still dark, but the town was much quieter. My eyes adjusted out of sleep, and I looked into my predators faces. A middle aged man and woman crouched before me, most likely married. My heart beat slowed and they removed their hands. They offered me food and I began to eat as they watched me. I stayed quite, not even a thank you escaped my mouth. “We . . . we see that you are down on your luck,” the man quietly spoke. His voice was course and had a thick Scottish accent, “Can we help?” I sat quietly and kept eating. The woman intervened and began talking. “We are traveling Scotsman and we need some help with business and chores. We are willing to take you in as part of the family if you help out.” My eyes lightened and I nodded my head. “My name’s Molly and this is Duncan,” she said. I finally spoke, “I’m Will.” And with that my life seemed to be taking a turn for the better.
We reached the caravan of wagons just as the sun rose. There were probably twenty five of them and they were well hidden together within the forest. Clothes and trinkets cluttered the ground and trees of this small trader’s village. It was whimsical yet unsettling. People appeared outside as we approached. They were adorned in layers of colorful clothing and even the men were covered in jewelry and pins. These were the traders. They may have smoked and used profanity often but it was still a step up from my father. Nevertheless, they were friendly and open. Everyone shared and watched over one another as if they were all one big family. Within the first week I grew to love them dearly. But there was one in particular I had my eye on. Her name was Kali. At night we would sit under the stars by the fire. The flames often reminded me of her. Her fierce orange hair and temperament made for lively conversations. She was opinionated and strong while I was quiet and courageous, which I believed was a perfect match. Her eyes twinkled a bright blue which always gave me a chill when I looked in them. I would hold her small hand and listen as she told countless stories of her and her family’s lives before I came. Because of her, I always felt at ease.
That is, until the day our caravan made it to the outskirts of Scotland. The past two weeks were literally a dream. I had a new family, and I had Kali. But suddenly that all changed. When we left England, Molly and Duncan weren’t so nice. Of course, I understood that I had to work, but they would put me at incredibly hard and daunting tasks. Everything I did was to serve them as they sat there getting high on their pipes. They began feeding me less and less as I worked harder and harder. Some days my only meal was their meager leftovers. But I kept working, blinded with thoughts of Kali. Kali and I would meet every night behind one of the wagons. We would lie in the dirt and grass, watching the stars and talking. That was what kept me going. One night I set out to meet her there, in “our spot.” My heart was fluttering with excitement as I walked through the weeds. I rounded the corner of the wagon putting on a smile, which was quickly dropped because she wasn’t there. “Kali?” I whispered. I heard footsteps behind me and my smile went back up just as quick as it dropped. I turned around, but it wasn’t Kali. It was Duncan, drunk as my father would be. I stood there and trembled, not sure why he was there or what he was going to do. He approached me with a deep laugh that didn’t seem like his own. I watched his outline come towards mine. With unsuspected speed he pulled out a knife and slashed the tip of my ear off. A scream built up inside me but I held my jaw high and tight as he looked me over. “From now, you will do as I say,” he stated. “If you disobey even the smallest of orders, you will be slashed again.” Just like the night he found me I never said a word as he spoke, “I have given you what you cannot repay.” In all honesty I agreed with him. He gave me food, shelter, and a new life. “This is a debt that will require a life of toil,” he continued. “And you boy….are now my slave.”
By the end of the next week multiple slashes marked me. Didn’t wash Molly’s dirty feet? Sliced on the knee. Dropped the cleaning cloth? Snipped my lip. Meat a little too done? Cut on the elbow. Luckily Kali was there to help me out and save me from a few markings. She also helped clean out and stich the deep wounds. I was living another nightmare, and I would do anything to escape.
My opportunity came in a thunderous storm of hooves and clinking medals. The Scottish military approached the trader’s camp in an unorganized rush. We all rushed out of the wagons to see what was happening. One of the men jumped off his horse and approached all the people. With a voice of authority he declared the news which everyone but me dreaded. “The British have declared wars on us! We will need a male from each family to join the war effort.” Immediately I volunteered for the family as Duncan flashed a disgusted look my way. And with that it was decided, I was to fight for the Scottish army. Without much of a goodbye all the men fighting decided to set off. I watched Kali at her door as I sat on the anxious horse. She cried and as I rode of we both mouthed, “I love you.”
Within two days we were already at the battle scene prepared to fight. My commander strategized that the majority of men should fight front lines head on with the British. The rest would go around and up into the forests on either side and cut through. This way we could surround the enemy. I was set for the forest. Two groups of about forty men each set off in opposite directions into the trees. The wandering seemed endless and wearisome but we kept trudging on. For some time our footsteps seemed to be growing louder even though we stopped marching. Finally it became too much to handle and someone whispered for us to stop. All of our men stopped, but the footsteps kept growing. The footsteps became faster and louder as someone yelled “Charge!” It was the British, and they were heading straight at us. We all dispersed, frantically running in whatever direction we could. I kept on running and running until I thought I was safe to stop and catch my breath. I bent over coughing and breathing heavy. As I raised my head back up I saw him, my father, clothed in a British uniform.
“Will?” He whispered. I tried to grab at my sword but he flung at me too fast. But…wait. He didn’t hurt me, he hugged me. “I’m sorry, so, so sorry,” he cried. “Get off of me!” I yelled. He got off and looked into my eyes. “I’m not who I was Will,” he held on to my shoulders to get his point across. I looked over him. “Prove it.” I taunted. “It’s a long story, I can’t just prove it.” I sat down in the grass “go ahead, try. I’ve got time,” I smirked at him, hoping to make him crack. He hadn’t changed. People don’t just change. He sat next to me and began. “I guess it started the night you left. The hanging in the square that night was brutal and horrifying. The people being hung were up there for sharing about Christ. People mocked and mourned but they wouldn’t reject their beliefs, even till death. And it made me wonder…what could make someone have such strong convictions, that they are willing to die in humiliation? So I went back to get you and your mother, stumbling in because of excitement. But the crowds were so hard to get through and I wanted to see it so badly that I tried to take you and your mother the back way. That was the greatest mistake of my life.” I laughed thinking he was talking about me and how I ran away, he never really cared. He continued. “You ran out into the streets and in desperation your mother ran after you.” Crying, he stated, “A carriage hit her, and she…..she died.” She died?! Because of me?! Tears streamed out of my eyes; my heart was shattered. We sat there crying until my father was calm enough to move on. “That night I buried her in the yard next to Sarah. I looked at Sarah’s cross and realized your mother needed one as well. So I headed to the church to ask for anyone who could get me one. The bishop saw me asking on the church steps and sat next to me. I told him of the day and he mourned with me. He handed me a cross but first explained what the cross really met. It means that Jesus loved us so much he died for me and you. He is hope for everyone, he could change even the worst like me. And that was the answer to my question. Why would someone die for a religion? Because of truth and love.” And with that he finished. He really was a changed man. “I believe you.” I stated. He reached over to hug me but then he began coughing blood. It was a bullet straight through the throat. Shocked I jumped up. I saw one of my men shaking. “I saved you!” he declared. I played along because I knew if I told him the truth, I would be considered a traitor. I hid my pain and acted relieved.
But the relief was short lived. We heard more British soldiers heading our way. We cut through the trees and ran as if our lives depended on it, which they did. At some point we lost them but we kept going to be safe anyways. That was a bad idea because it landed us straight in the middle of the battlefield. Smoke rose and swords clinked in a mess of men. Who would I fight for? If I fight for the Scottish; I would return a slave. But I can’t fight for the British that would be fighting against Kali. I would fight for neither. I ran out and hit everyone I could, overwhelmed by the day. Then everything went black.
I woke up to a pretty face above me. “Will.” she said with a smile. “Who are you?” “Grace,” she softly stroked my face as another girl walked up next to her, “and this is Sarah.”