In Love & War

Transcribed by Charity

The muscles in his back rippled as he hefted the stacks of dried hay into the wagon which stood beside the barn. John wiped the sweat off his brow, remembering his last visit with Lorna; the sweet taste of her lips upon his, the softness of her words. But his thoughts were interrupted by the breathless voice of Gwenny, who had stolen up around the farmhouse. "John," she says urgently, "you must come with me now!"

Terrified that something has happened to Lorna, John dons shirt and vest and follows swiftly. His boots seem to have wings as he is lead into the valley, and at last into the counsel house, where Lorna sits with her grandfather, ever-intimidating behind the enormous oak desk. The room has not changed since he was last here, shortly after his father's death; nor has Ensor changed. He is still the large, impressive man with the brooding dark eyes, the same hint of temper that his grandson, Carver, carries... mingled with arrogance.

Lorna's eyes are downcast, as if she is ashamed of her presence, and John steps forward as Ensor beckons. "My granddaughter has told me of your nonsense," comes the ringing voice. "You must forget it. There can never be a match between you."

One glance into Lorna's teary eyes, and John says boldly, "We love each other," as if that in itself will be their saving power. It has no effect upon Ensor, however, who allows the words to slide away as if they were never spoken.

"That is of no consequence," he replies. "Do you know how far this girl is above you?"

"I know she is of a noble family."

Ensor nods, a hint of a smile playing around the cruel, stern eyes. "And what," he asks tauntingly, "is your fine lineage?"

Unabashed, the reply is cool and collective: "I'm descended from honorable working men."

"Farmers," Ensor says scornfully. 

"The Ridds have been honest twice as long as the Doones have been rogues!" John says sharply, and is threatened by the angry flicker in Ensor's eyes.

"If not for my granddaughter's pleadings," he said, "you would be dead! Lorna Doone has a future before her you cannot even begin to imagine or understand. A future I have planned for her since childhood! Now pledge to me that you will give her up."

Strengthened by Lorna's presence, John refuses. "As long as Lorna wants me," he says quietly, "I will not abandon her." Relief cascades through his being as Lorna rises from her chair, no longer the stiff little doll, and comes forth to take his hand, her fingers sliding into his own.

"Do you know," demands Ensor, "that she is betrothed to another?!"

"Against my will!" cries Lorna. "I will never accept Carver, grandfather... never!"

As if to heed her words, the doors behind them explode open, banging loudly against the walls and Carver himself enters the room. His angry glance take in John, who stands boldly before him, sweeping over Lorna, who has clutched her lover with a sudden fear at his presence, and he demands, "What is this man doing here?"

"This does not concern you!" Ensor rises from behind the desk angrily, facing his defiant grandson without tremor; and yet Carver's response is cool and collective.

"Everything," he says swiftly, "that happens here concerns me!" It is a defiant slap in the face to Ensor, a reminder of his death, and the lord of the Doones does not take it well. Snarling as a beast, he replies loathingly, "I am not dead yet! Now, get out!" 

The gaze is held for a long instant, two strong wills colliding in an equal amount of power, and then Carver storms from the room, giving John one last hateful glance. Ensor sinks into a chair, as if drained from the confrontation, and takes in Lorna almost pitifully. "Will you obey me or not?"

Out of the corner of his eye, John sees the quiet shake of her head. Ensor's words come strong, but with an amount of despair behind them. "Do you want me to force you to marry Carver? here and now?"

Tears sparkle behind her eyes as Lorna lowers herself to his knee, saying nothing, but looking up trustfully into his face. Ensor wilts, and takes up her hand, so small in his own large grasp, squeezing it as the words tumble forth. "For thirty years," he says to John, "I had only one dream... to see my family great again. And now this girl takes it into her hand and crumbles it into dust in front of me. You see how love makes a man weak."

"In my eyes," Lorna quietly intervenes, "you have never been stronger." She felt the coarseness of her grandfather's calloused hands as he took her face between them, looking down upon her. The moment is quiet and forgiving, and at last he looks away, saying to John, "Leave us now. No harm will come to you."

John licks his lips, unable to bear parting without one last word. "Your blessing on our marriage," he offers quietly, "will make Lorna's happiness complete."

"My blessing means nothing anymore. You brought your fate on your own heads. Fools you are." Ensor caresses Lorna's cheek gently, and something of a haunting tone enters his voice as he adds, "And fools you must stay." He turns away, fighting the tears that threaten forth, and Lorna's own tears begin to flow, as she lays her head upon his knee.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry..." 

John turns, and finds Gwenny awaiting him at the door. As she gently ties a blindfold around his eyes, she whispers, "She's safe until the old man dies. Keep a watch on the dented trees by the Doone gate. There are three old Rooks' nests in the top branches. When you see only two, come at once."

John is lead from the valley by guiding hands that are none too gentle, and stumbling down the hill, he feels himself passed to a cold grip. Carver's voice hisses into his ear, even as the fingers dig deep into his arm. "It is a rude guest who leaves without introducing himself."

"I'm John Ridd."

The voice is sneering and distrustful. "Carver Doone."

Yes, John could remember him well... he could remember the cold gray eyes that had watched him from atop the black stallion as his father lay bleeding upon the street. The threatening words thrown at his mother in the counsel house. All that Lorna had told him of her cousin and his violent temper. "I know who you are. Sir Ensor has granted me safe passage."

Carver utters a passing "be off, then," and gives him a rough shove. Unable to see due to the blindfold, John slowly makes his own way, but something strikes his foot from behind, and he stumbles to the dirt. Carver's nasal voice can be heard only an instant before he is roughly yanked to his feet. "Be careful, John Ridd... the path is treacherous."

Tearing the blindfold free, Carver keeps a tight hold upon John for a long instant. "If I see you here again," he threatens in a tone void of any warmth, "I'll blow your brains out." And with those final words, he shoves John down the path. For a moment, they stand, staring into one another's eyes; one playful and threatening, the other cold and angered. 

The spell is broken, and without another word, John turns and finds his way down the path. But Carver's sinister little smile fades into an impassive shade of anger as he watches his nemeses move away without a backward glance. Someday, John Ridd, he vows silently. Someday...