by Alisa Adams
Not to be outdone, Effi added, “I shall braid some flowers into his tail. He will be beautiful!”
The little girls were instantly in love with Inch. They carefully brushed his tired legs and back when they stopped to rest. They braided flowers from the roadside into his long but ragged mane and tail. Inch napped as they lovingly fussed over him. He politely ate his oats and the grasses the girls pulled up from the ground just for him from their small hands, lipping them carefully and like a perfect gentleman from each child in turn.
Swan smiled as she watched the girls. Even the little boys were taking care of Dummy’s needs on the rest break. Swan spent her break teaching the children how to brush the horses safely and how to check their huge feet without getting stepped on. Inch and Dummy carefully and considerately lifted their hooves. The children took turns holding one hoof as they studiously inspected and cleaned each hoof for any stones or sticks that could hurt their horse. Three little girls or three little boys would be peering closely at the bottom of a hoof as the eldest of them proudly held it for the others to clean. Swan smiled as the giant old war horses stood absolutely still during the fuss.
Beak walked by leading his horse, his pipe stuck firmly in the corner of his thin lips. He grunted, “Those two old war horses never stood that still in my day.” He grunted again, puffing out a white cloud of smoke, and walked on.
The midday break was short and they were on their way again.
Neely was not silent on the ride after the break. She had been squealing and squeaking and letting out all kinds of noises. When they finally stopped for their evening rest and Swan went to check on her, she saw that Neely’s hair had come out of its usual neat and tidy braid, and the bottom of her skirt and boots were chewed on. The tartan at her shoulder had been ripped and pulled mostly off. Her dress sleeve had also been ripped.
Swan stopped, her mouth open in surprise.
“What has happened to ye Neely?” Swan asked as she looked at her.
Neely began to grumble as bad as the children had. “I cannae believe that I have to ride this one. He is the most bad-tempered, ugly, scarred horse here!” she said angrily to Swan as she huffed at the hair that had been pulled from its braid and was hanging in her face. Her arms hung at her sides but she kept trying to pull her torn sleeve back into place on her shoulder. Her tartan hung limply, pulled off by her horse.
The horse yanked at her sleeve again. Neely glared at the horse and pulled her sleeve back up, just at the horse grabbed at her hair.
Neely let out a screech and waved her arms at the horse with a fierce glare.
Swan saw that Neely’s horse wouldn’t leave her alone. Neely kept shooing him away and scowling at him.
“Weel now, I see that Teeth has lived up to his name,” Swan said drolly. Evidently at their break, when Neely had gotten off of him, as soon as she was near his head he reached out to pull at her sleeve, her hair, her cloak, whatever was nearest that he could tug on.
“Teeth, milady?” Neely said aghast. “I thought his name was Mentieth?”
“It is. We have shortened it to Teeth,” Swan said with a wry grin. “I learned to ride on all these old geldings. Ye must scold him as soon as he gives ye that look.”
“What look?” Neely said as she dodged the horse’s teeth once again, giving him a stern glare.
“He has a look,” Swan said as she tried to explain. “He will never really hurt ye, he just pulls on ye. If the hood of yer cloak is over yer head he’ll be sure to pull it off. I swear he laughs while doing it,” Swan added with a grin and an affectionate pat on the old horse's neck. The big gelding swung his head at her. “That look,” she said to Neely. “Mind yer manners Teeth!” Swan said firmly as she shoved his head away from her.
The horse instantly lowered his head and nuzzled her gently. “Ye see? He never pins his ears. He doesnae mean ye any harm, it’s all a bluff. Unless he is in battle, then he will pin his ears and bite in earnest. He is a vera troubled horse I think. Ye must take the time to get to know him Neely.”
Neely studied the horse with a doubtful frown and narrowed eyes.
He was not a young horse, he was like the other geldings—an ancient, old, black war horse. The gelding was covered from head to hoof in terrible battle scars that made him appear the color of sooty smoke, but he still seemed to like a good fight, even if it was with his rider.
The horse had not responded well to her shrieking and screaming for him to let go of her hair or her clothing. Or her boot, when she was riding him. She knew she was starting to look very disheveled, which was very unlike herself.
Neely turned back to Swan with a nod of her head. “Vera well milady. I will give the horse a chance to prove he is not an evil, vile monster that has the terrible intent of devouring me bite by bite by bite.”
The children giggled at Neely’s dramatic sentence. Until she swung her head sharply towards them. “Do ye find this funny?” she said as she grabbed her torn sleeve and then reached up to her hair, which stuck out in many directions.
They laughed even harder.
Neely gave out a loud huff of breath and turned her back on them. She walked over very cautiously towards her horse. They could hear her talking slowly, as if to a child. Teeth watched her with great interest.
“Now, Sir Teeth, I am just...going to…remove this...saddle…” she said as she untacked the horse. “Please dinnae bite me...or perhaps I will bite...you...back!”
Swan grinned and looked over to see if Beak needed any help.
Beak was standing next to his old friend—a once grand, also black, war horse renowned from many a battle. It’s name was Echlefechan, or Eckle, as Beak called him. Man and horse looked oddly alike. Both terribly skinny with long, boney limbs and watery old eyes. Both had hair that stood up straight. The aged destrier’s mane no longer flowed regally down to his shoulders. Instead it was patchy and bare in places, and other places short and stuck straight up. Its tail was still long, however, and dragged on the ground behind him. His tail had gathered all manner of debris from the road. Beak took gentle care of the old horse, picking the leaves and twigs and clumps of dirt from Eckle’s long black tail. Beak toddered around him, seeing to the horse before his own needs.
As the days wore on, Swan’s own body was a steady ache of exhaustion from keeping the children happy, safe, and fed—and Peigi calm as she tried to teach her to be a steady riding horse. As she led the group along the roads that wound carefully around the bogs she kept watch over them all. Her eyes did not miss anything the children or the others were doing. If they needed help with the horses or around their small camp each night, it was her responsibility to keep them all safe. They were the last of her clan.
The land on this peninsula was flat with only small rolling hills and clumps of trees here and there. Mainly it was heath and turf and peat bogs; everywhere there was naught but peat bogs. It makes for easy fires at night and that is about all it is good for, Swan thought.
Swan kept a long, sturdy staff with an angled blade at one end attached to her saddle that she poked into the peat, checking to see if it was solid ground when she was not sure, or cut more peat if she had to. It was called a tosg. She also kept a large knife at her belt and a quiver of arrows over her back along with Da’s old bow. Her parents were long gone, but the wood of this bow was worn by her da’s hands and she liked to think he was near her whenever she put her hands on the bow where his had been.
The smell of the ocean was starting to fade as they slowly made their way off Dunnett Head. Swan led them around St. John’s Loch at the very end of their peninsula. Here the land became slightly more hilly. There were a few more trees and curiously there were rocks everywhere in odd formations, circles, and lines. Their history was unknown but it was said the Picts had placed the rocks in these patterns long, long ago. The children became silent as they rode through the ancient formations. Their eyes were wide, picturing the ancient people and wondering why they had stood these giant ro
cks up in such perfect, straight lines.
The exhausting bogs seemed to be everywhere for now they had entered flow country. There were countless lochs of all shapes and sizes with streams meandering into them from all directions. The ground under foot was quite wet and spongy. There were more bridges built over these bogs, for they were needed to get between the towns and farmlands.
“Stay on the roads everyone. Dinnae vear off or your horse will sink into the wet peat!” Swan warned them. She bit her lip. How could she have brought these children on this journey?
Swan halted Peigi and looked ahead at the next bridge they had to cross. She saw another beyond it, and then another, and another, crisscrossing the landscape of the bogs. She dismounted Peigi as she stared at the sight before her.
“Beak, I will need ye to hold Peigi. I’ll be leading the girls’ horse. Kaithria? Can ye lead Dummy with the boys? I dinnae like the looks of these bridges.”
Swan led each horse by hand, poking her tosg in front of her into the peat bridge. It looked old with no signs of travel, only rot. She was fearful that one of the horses’ hooves would go right through the roughly made bridge of logs and stones and peat. She knew the big, heavy horses would sink into the dark brown water of the bog beneath, carrying the children with them.
She got them all across safely but stopped at the next bridge. The big hound was staring down at the ground sniffing and whining. Swan dismounted Peigi once again, handing the mare’s reins to Beak.
“What is it me boy?” she whispered to the dog as she walked up to him. The dog wagged its tail briefly at her then looked back to the bridge. Swan stepped up onto the slight hill of peat that made the bridge over this part of the bog. The hound was instantly in front of her, pressing against her legs and whining. He would not let her go further. Swan realized he was blocking her from advancing.
“Alright then me boyo, I’ll be going no further,” Swan said softly as she patted his big head and eyed the bridge.
She poked her tosg into the peat in front of herself and the dog. With very little effort, the peat caved in, sinking into the dark brown water. The dog lost his footing as the peat gave way beneath him. Swan cried out and quickly grabbed his big body, skittering backward, pulling the dog with her as the peat continued to cave in all the way to where they had been standing.
“Sards!” she said on a huff of breath as she swiped the hair out of her face. “We’ll never be able to cross that one!”
Swan looked around. There was no other way, the bog stretched in all directions. She saw a hill of peat off to the side. It already had cuts out of it, most likely for this very bridge. She carried her tosg and pulled her knife out and went to the peat hill. She stared at it with narrowed eyes. Then she took a breath and started cutting out bricks of peat with her tosg. She threw the first brick she had successfully cut over towards the bridge.
Kaithria was at her side in an instant. Neely was trailing behind with a doubtful look on her face.
Kaithria began to work next to Swan; her hood was still firmly in place. She started cutting peat bricks and Swan noted with surprise that she had brought a tosg along as well.
Swan looked over at her. “I thank ye Kaithria.”
Neely came just a bit closer. “Ye cannae be planning to build bridges all the way across Caithness milady,” Neely called out.
“Och, I will if I have to,” Swan called back to Neely, and then to Kaithria she said, “I dinnae know ye had a tosg with ye, tis glad of that I am Kate.”
“Tis Kaithria milady. Though indeed I was told it is from Katherine, but I dinnae like to be called Kate. Kaithria if ye please,” she said very quietly.
“Forgive me,” Swan said as she tried to get a look at her face. “Tis Gaelic then?”
“Ancient Gaelic I was told.” Kaithria continued to work, her hands steady and sure as if she had been doing this her whole life. “And yes, I like to travel with a tosg. Tis needed in these lands. Ye willnae get far without it.”
“And tis a good weapon as well,” Swan added quietly.
Kaithria gave Swan a startled look.
Swan glanced at her just in time to see Kaithria’s face, and their eyes held. It was the first time that Swan had a good look at Kaithria’s face, for she did not turn away. Swan was struck by Kaithria’s eyes; they were a beautiful tawny gold. Against the creamy, tan of her skin and with her black hair, Kaithria was strikingly beautiful.
“Kaithria,” breathed out Swan, “ye are vera beautiful! Why do ye hide yourself so?”
Kaithria quickly lowered her face back to the task, ducking just enough that Swan could no longer see her eyes.
Swan watched as Kaithria’s elegant hands pulled her hood more firmly into place.
“As are ye Lady Swan,” Kaithria said softly. “I have seen no face that can compare to your lovely, perfect skin and sky blue eyes.” Kaithria made as if to look at Swan but her hood blocked her eyes from Swan’s. “All that long, fiery, golden-red hair ye have. I envy ye. Truly I do Lady Swan.”
Swan noted Kaithria’s hands were the same creamy tan as her face. They made her own hands look very white. She wanted to know more about Kaithria but now was not the time.
“Thank ye Kaithria,” Swan said, “but me hair has a mind of its own. It’s a terrible creature to tame sometimes.”
Swan heard a soft laugh from Kaithria and smiled. She saw a slight movement behind her and saw Neely starting to turn back towards the horses.
Swan quickly turned her head to Neely. “Gather the bricks if ye will and fill in that rotted hole in the bridge.”
Neely stared at her with her mouth open. “What? Me? With me own hands milady? But they are vera muddy!”
Swan paused and looked at her. “Do ye know how to use a tosg then? Ye can switch places with me.”
“Of course I dinnae know how to use a tosg,” Neely said with disdain.
“Weel then, ye either learn how to cut peat or ye fill the hole in the bridge with the bricks we cut,” Swan said firmly and matter-of-factly.
Neely studied Swan’s hands. They already looked sore and blistered. Swan’s curly red hair was tied in a knot atop her head. The bottom of her skirts were wet and muddy and her white blouse was streaked with dirt, as was her face.
Neely sighed out a groan then walked over and picked up a brick, holding it away from her skirt and blouse. She walked as fast as she could to the bridge and threw it quickly in the hole. Then she shook the mud off her hands. Swan and Kaithria watched her. They shook their heads and turned back to the job of cutting peat.
“That is one peat brick Neely. It’ll be taking several more than that to fill that hole,” Swan said without stopping or looking at her. She smiled as she heard Neely groan.
It took several hours for what Swan hoped was enough bricks to fill the hole. Then she and Kaithria started on the peat pile, carrying the peat bricks over to the bridge and packing them into the rotted section of the bridge.
“We can help Lady Swan,” Grissy said as she came up to Swan where she was bent over, packing peat into the hole. Effie and Fiona were behind her, and behind them was Bhric, Albie, and Charlie.
“Och children, that would be much appreciated. But ye must not come any farther than ye are now. I dinnae want ye falling into the bog, do ye ken?” Swan looked at them all with a serious expression.
“Aye milady,” came the chorus from the children.
It was slow and messy work, but they got it done and were able to cross the bridge, horses and all.
They crisscrossed several more of the peat bridges and had to stop three more times to make sure the bridges were safe.
As the hound ranged ahead, the children started worriedly hollering for him. “Beans! Beans!”
“Children,” Swan called back to them, “Beans is making sure each bridge is safe. Watch! He will tell us.”
If Beans bounded happily over a bridge she knew it was safe. If he sniffed and whined, it was time to dismount and fill in the rot
ten parts of the bridge, which was the only way over the dark, brackish brown floating river of peat and heath and turf.
Swan trusted the hound and watched him closely as he inspected each bridge. By the end of the day, her arms and shoulders were aching and heavy. Her hands were raw and blistered. All from cutting peat for just three bridges.
Swan looked out on the horizon and saw nothing but more bridges to cross. Her shoulders dropped in exhaustion. With a deep sighing breath she pressed her calves into Peigi’s sides and rode on.
She had entered some sort of hell that included her people disappearing into the brown water of the peat bogs.
The hound’s presence came to be valuable to Swan and reassured her. Each time they stopped for the night—for the bogs were impossible to traverse in the darkness—the hound had bounded off and eventually came back with a rabbit. He had gladly given over his catch to Swan for it seemed he preferred his meals cooked. For this, Swan made sure the hound got his share as he sat politely behind her, off to the side, waiting for his portion.
“Milady, food is scarce enough. Should ye be sharing our dinner with that dog?” Neely complained to Swan.
Swan looked up at Neely from where she was kneeling before the fire roasting two rabbits. She had gotten one with her bow and arrow and had added to their fare. She had passed out some meat to the children where they sat near the fire on their woolen tartans.
“Neely, he shares his catch with us,” Swan said with a frown. “We are lucky to have the rabbits he catches and shares with us,” she said firmly as she arched an eyebrow at Neely.
Neely was about to respond when Beans let out a loud burp. The children erupted into laughter and Neely’s complaint was overshadowed by the children’s entertainment.
Old Beak came over to sit in front of the fire. He put his pipe in the corner of his lips and puffed a few times. Then he exhaled a perfect ring of smoke that rose up over his head and hovered there, almost like a billowy halo.