Sweet Sassenach

• Bethany Johnston, Grade 11, Belmont High School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

The life of a Redcoat soldier of the year 1762 is surely a torturous one. Let alone the life of a Redcoat's offspring. The physical scars of Harold Chamberlain were deep, caused by the feuds of the Scottish clans that reside in the forever rolling hills of this land that I call my home. The surface of the visible scars that reach all over his body reach just as deep into his mind and soul.
In ways, I am seen as a burden. My father, Harold Chamberlain planted his fruitful seed inside a harlot.
Rape.
That is the way that my father will always see me. Not as a sign of affection between lovers, but as an image of pleasure for himself and a lifetime of pain and disgrace for the fragile soul of a woman in which I call my mother, that had her innocence stolen. It had not occurred to Harold of the events that would harm his future as a successful Redcoat. It had been nine moons since the life of a seventeen year old commoner had been torn to shreds, when one morning Harold would hold in his arms the result of his disgusting lust. He had become a father to a bundle of innocence, quite like the one that had given birth to this babe. My mother had named me Brianna Margaret Chamberlain, daughter and disgrace of Harold William Chamberlain.
My mother had fallen ill and could not produce the energy to hold me in her loving arms to her breast and allow me to suckle. She ordered me to be taken into my father's care until further notice.
You could say that my life growing up had not been of the usual sort. None of the other soldiers had any next of kin, so I had grown and developed alone into the woman I am today. My father couldn't care less about what I did or did not do, but luckily the nurses and maids of Fort Arthur minded my well-being. Nineteen years later, I am in love, but am still waiting to be held in a mother's loving embrace.
For my own safety, I was not to leave the fort without being accompanied by a rifle and a young soldier in the fear of being sprung upon by clansmen. Little did anyone know that they were keeping me from the love of my life, Fergus MacLaren, a Scottish clansman.
We had vowed to each other in the months before...
'Ye are the Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, till our Life shall be Done.'
It has been three months since I have seen my dear Fergus. And how I would be disowned if anyone knew that I were wed to a Scot, and how they would surely want to end Fergus' life.
His forever lasting words to me were,
"Soon, my sweet Sassenach."