by Carmen Caine
“Him? You mean to say, this vessel carries but one man,” Shoney exclaimed as a hush settled over the crowd.
“Only one of our warriors returns,” Una cried, her eyes wide with fear.
“It must be a messenger,” Shoney called for all to hear. “Perhaps, he brings word from your laird. Let us join the others and go meet him.”
“Bridget.”
Shoney turned to see who addressed her and found Bhaltair looking down at her from atop his horse.
“Give me your hand, and I will take you ahead,” he said, reaching down and lifting her into the seat in front of him.
“Ride like death is behind us,” she whispered. “I must know what has happened.”
They rode through the village and down to the port just as the lone sailor was exiting his vessel.
“’Tis Aidan,” Shoney exclaimed.
He looked no worse for wear, she was pleased to note. She smiled as she saw Morna rush forward to greet him. It was a loving reunion, and Shoney glimpsed the joy that had set Morna’s face aglow. Next, Anwen welcomed Aidan home. She pulled him into a motherly embrace. Then they stood facing each other, Anwen standing with her back to Shoney. Shoney leaned forward trying to hear Aidan’s message but to no avail.
Shoney prayed to the Mother of all for joyful tidings, but when Anwen released a shrill sob and collapsed at Aidan’s feet, Shoney’s blood ran cold.
“Nay,” Anwen cried. Over and over again, she wept her denial, and each sob was a knife to Shoney’s heart, obliterating the hope that had kept her going over the past weeks.
Shoney slipped from the horse and stumbled to the ground. Her ears were ringing, and she couldn’t breathe. Bhaltair was soon at her side, asking if she was alright, but his distant voice sounded like a dream, and Shoney wondered whether it was all just a horrible nightmare.
Villagers pushed past her as they tried to reach Aidan and learn of their loved one’s fate. In a daze, she stood on the outskirts. Through a haze of confusion and sorrow, she watched her new found sisters grieve for their fallen husbands and sons as terrified children clung to their skirts. All feeling left her. Ronan was gone. Her vision had come to fruition.
“And so it is done,” she said aloud. “All is lost.”
Misfortune found its way to Mull, despite earlier preparations. No action or planning could have prevented the sorrow that now swept through the clan. Their tears ran freely as they waded through a deluge of grief. Shoney could not bear to listen to their sobs any longer. She turned away and headed back toward the village. Misery engulfed her, coursing through her veins. She felt as though she were on fire. She wished to tear at her flesh and pull it away from her heart, which quivered and pulsated in anguish.
The village, which was usually a bustle of activity, was eerily silent. Even the animals seemed to sense the recent devastation as they hid away in their pens. Dragging her feet on legs that longed to give way, Shoney pushed her door open and went inside her hut. Her eyes were drawn straight away to the little basket near her chair. It overflowed with baby clothes Anwen had given her. Some of which she had made but many of the pieces had been Ronan’s when he was a babe.
They would be his legacy to his child. She gathered each piece and stuffed them all in a satchel. She could not stay in Gribun without him. Despite her newfound friends, her heart would not allow her to remain. Pain was mounting inside of her, pushing against the walls she had temporarily erected. But they would soon give way, and she wanted to be home when they finally tumbled down and her sorrow was released.
A knock sounded at the door. Shoney’s head snapped around. “Shoney are you in there? ‘Tis Aidan.”
“Go away, Aidan. I do not wish to see you,” she said. “I do not wish to see anyone ever again,” she whispered.
The door pushed open, and Aidan stepped inside. His eyes moved to the satchel in her hand.
“You are packing?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said as she went back to the task.
“You mean to leave, Shoney?”
She did not reply.
“I rode ahead of the others to find you. The women are worried about you, and they seek your comfort during this difficult time. How can you abandon them?” He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at him.
“Shoney, this is your home now.”
“No, Aidan,” she spat, “this is not my home. You used deception to bring me here. Remember. This has never been my home. This is Bridget’s hut not Shoney’s.”
“Regardless of how you came to be here, you are here now, and the people need you,” he said.
She turned away from him and stared numbly at the glowing ashes left over from her morning fire. Her sorrow was so great that she was afraid its release would destroy her. She took a deep breath to bolster the internal wall keeping her emotions at bay. There was no room inside her heart for the guilt Aidan was trying to use against her. But, unwittingly, her mind returned to Anwen’s crumbling body as Aidan broke the news of Ronan’s death, and Shoney tasted bitter remorse. Her newfound sisters were suffering just as she was.
“My heart is with Anwen,” she murmured as she continued to focus on the glowing embers. “Having already lost her first son to battle, this is too great a heartache for one soul to bear.”
“Aye, the whole clan mourns his passing,” Aidan said. “He was a devoted leader. Even Argyle said he could not recall or heard mention of a better chieftain.”
“What,” she cried, looking at Aidan.
“Nathair,” he said, “his death is a tragedy.”
Her eyes opened wide. She could not speak or breathe. She stumbled over to him and grabbed hold of his arms as she tried to utter the words her heart was shouting.
“Ronan, Ronan,” she croaked.
“Ronan?” Aidan repeated.
“Dead. Ronan is dead.”
“Ronan is alive, Shoney,” he said.
Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. The walls holding back her emotions crumbled. The numbness left her body as sensation surged through her. She shook with sobs. The love, the relief was too great to contain.
“Shoney, why do you cry?” Aidan tried to lift her chin in order to force her eyes to meet his, but she refused.
“Go away, Aidan,” she sobbed.
“Shoney, I thought you would be happy to know Ronan lived,” he said.
“Go away,” she screamed.
He scurried out the door as her head dropped again to the ground.
She wailed, rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. She cried for the unbearable pain she felt every day since he first left, thinking she would never see him again. She cried for the countless number of times she touched her stomach knowing he would never hold his child. She cried for the agony that seized her soul when she thought for sure she had lost him.
But he was alive. He was alive.
The reality that Ronan lived was beginning to set in. She choked back her tears.
He was alive.
Suddenly, her sobs were replaced with laughter.
He was alive.
She stood up and twirled around the room. Soon he would be home and then…She stopped dancing… and then what?
Mother of all, at last she must decide. Was she to be Shoney or Bridget?
The image of her mother blazed in her mind’s eye, and Shoney saw her standing once again amid the Dervaig Stones, but it was not a vision that filled her mind, simply a memory. She was a little girl, and her mother had painted lovely blue images on their cheeks of animals and symbols of the gods. Then Brethia began to dance, weaving around the standing stones and leaping over the ones that slumbered. Shoney could hear the lilting sound her own childish laughter. Her mother raced toward her and took hold of her hands, and together they spun around and around. The sky above her blurred into a blue and white swirl, and all the while her beautiful mother smiled, radiating love. She lifted Shoney into her arms. Shoney remembered the smell of her mother’s hair a
nd the secure pressure of her embrace, and she remembered her mother’s words:
“You bring my life joy, Shoney.”
The words echoed in her mind, and all that had been muddled was at that moment as clear as the spring rain. Shoney knew what she would do. She would honor her mother.
Chapter 27
Ronan stood at the bow of his ship, staring at the cliffs of Mull. They were almost home. Figures lined the pier, waiting to welcome them. He strained to glimpse Shoney’s sleek figure and flaxen hair, but he saw no trace of her. Every night since they first set out from Largs, he dreamt of her standing on the dock, smiling and waving as they sailed into port. He imagined climbing onto the wharf as she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck, declaring once and for all her undying love.
“Fool,” he swore aloud.
“Ronan,” Dugald said behind him.
“Aye, what is it,” Ronan snapped.
“Nothing,” Dugald said as he began to back away. “’Tis just…I just wanted to say we were home.”
Dugald’s eyes mirrored his own tormented soul. The dark images of war often came to the forefront of his mind, and his thoughts seldom strayed from his brothers who now lay for all eternity beneath a land upon which their families would never tread.
Three days past since they landed on Iona and buried his father’s sword beside the grave of their MacKinnon ancestor, King Kenneth MacAlpin. He sent Aidan ahead to tell of their coming. By now everyone would know of the many men lost to the enemy. He returned home to a people plagued by grief. But he would rally their spirits and lead them into a new era where they were no longer a territory in dispute but as much a part of Scotland as Edinburgh or Glasgow.
Dugald’s anguished eyes turned to Mull and lit with joy. The other warriors seemed to share the same internal battle. Ronan did not want his men to suppress their gladness. They were alive and grateful to be so. He smiled and put his hand on Dugald’s shoulder.
“Aye, Dugald, we are home, my friend.”
Turning to the rest of his men, he cheered, “We are home.” Celebration ensued and all at once, the atmosphere grew lighter on board. Life would move forward, and the clan would heal.
His eyes scanned the ever growing crowd that lined the pier, yet he still did not see Shoney. He now regretted his resolve to respect her wishes. He decided on the journey home that if she had left Gribun—if she had left him—then he would let her go, but now that this was appearing more and more likely, he doubted he could be so noble.
Anguish lingered in the eyes of every MacKinnon and fresh tears seeped down their cheeks, but the onlookers cheered as their heroes returned from war. No sooner had Ronan climbed onto the pier then he was knocked back into the sea by the eager embraces of his clan. Numerous hands reached down to pull their new, sopping wet laird out of the water. When he wiped his eyes, his mother’s face appeared before him, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. The sudden grief had altered her appearance. Her hair, barely touched by silver before he left, was streaked with a thick band of white, and her eyes were lined with pain, but they sparkled as they searched his face, and the arms that embraced him were strong.
“My son, you are home,” she whispered. “Thank you, Blessed Mother, for protecting my son.”
Ronan smiled and kissed her cheek. “Aye, mother, I am home.”
“Ronan,” someone said softly behind him. He turned and there was Una, the pride of Guthrie’s life. Her dark curls framed her ashen face as tears streamed from her
black eyes. She clutched her new baby close to her heart.
“Och, Una,” he pressed his lips together as he fought to rid his mind of Guthrie’s blank stare and the gruesome sight of his belly torn asunder.
“Aidan told me…,” Una’s voice broke, and she turned away. Then she forced her shoulders back and faced Ronan again. “Aidan told me that you saw Guthrie.”
“Aye, Una. I did.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He did not suffer,” he lied, “and no one fought as bravely.” His voice broke as he fought back his own tears. “He was blessed by the king’s priest and laid to rest beside his brothers.”
Una, as strong as the land beneath their feet, nodded her head in acceptance. She placed a kiss upon her son’s brow and said, “You will tell little Guthrie about his father, about how valiantly he fought.”
“Aye, Una, I promise you I will.”
Ronan peered at the tiny babe. “He looks like his da,” he smiled. “He’ll be sure to have his da’s strength and goodness, I’d wager.”
Una beamed at Ronan’s words. Then she cleared her throat and in a brighter voice asked, “What are you dawdling down here for? I’d have thought you’d be racing to meet Bridget by now.”
Astonished, Ronan did not reply at first, and when he did, he stuttered like an untested whelp. “You mean Bridget is here, here in Gribun?”
“Bless me, Ronan,” Una smiled, “where else would she be?”
Ronan turned on his heel without another word to anyone and strode over to the nearest horse, which he mounted and kicked hard in the flank. His mind raced faster than the horse galloped as he headed toward the village. He was plagued by questions, but none could hold his focus. When he tried to think about why she stayed—was it just because of the promise or had she decided to make Gribun her home—her image filled his mind, leaving room for nothing else.
He could not believe that after traveling so many leagues, after so much darkness and bloodshed, he was finally going to see Shoney. He would stand before her and touch her and listen to the gentle rhythm of her voice and smell her waves of golden hair.
“What in God’s name,” Ronan exclaimed as his horse was yanked to a halt by someone else’s hand.
“Are you a blasted lunatic, Aidan?” Ronan shouted. “What are you doing?”
Aidan stared at Ronan’s reins still gripped in his hand as though he too could not believe what he had just done.
“There had best be a fire somewhere or a ship sinking. Explain yourself, Aidan.”
“Och, Ronan. I’ve been racing after you, shouting your name, practically begging you to stop. But you either refused, or you somehow didn’t hear me.”
Ronan’s anger eased a little when he discovered his friend had tried to get his attention by more traditional means.
“Sorry, my mind was indeed occupied, and I didn’t hear you.”
“It was her; was it not? You were thinking about Shoney. ‘Tis where you are racing off to.”
“Aye, and if it is all the same to you, ‘tis where I would like to race off to again. Whatever you need will have to wait.”
Thinking the matter settled, Ronan nudged his horse forward, but once again, Aidan caught his reins. Ronan grabbed hold of Aidan’s wrist, and in a menacing tone, he said, “Friend, I did not like that the first time, and unless I am mistaken, ‘tis my arse which rides this horse and your arse which is asking for a good wallop. Keep your hands to yourself, or I will see that you cannot sit a horse for a week.”
“Would you just listen to me, you pig headed oaf,” Aidan snapped. “’Tis about Shoney.”
Ronan grabbed hold of Aidan’s shirt and, almost lifting him clear out of his saddle, pulled him close so that Aidan’s face was nigh a breath from his own.
“What about Shoney,” he growled.
“What I am going to say I truly believe or else I would not risk the beating I am sure to receive.”
“Quit babbling, Aidan, and make your point,” Ronan snapped.
“I think you have misjudged Shoney, or at least how she feels about you.”
“What?” Ronan could not have been more surprised. The sincerity of Shoney’s affection was not the question Ronan was expecting Aidan to pose.
“You had best have a good reason for what you just said.”
“If you let go of me, I’ll tell you,” Aidan said.
“No. I intend to hold on securely to ensure you do not slip away. That way I do not have to chase you do
wn if I decide that in the end you do deserve a good beating. And let me just say, Aidan, odds are moving in that direction.”
“Alright, I’ll get right to it. The day I arrived and told your mother about your Da’s passing, Shoney believed it was you who died, and to be painfully honest, she didn’t seem too broken hearted. But when I told her that you lived, the lass broke into tears and raged at me to get out of her hut as though I delivered ill news.”
“You are lying,” Ronan growled through gritted teeth.
“I have never lied to you, Ronan.”
Ronan’s grip on Aidan’s plaid slackened as he stared out in a daze over the moors. Could it be true? Could the very woman he had yearned for, stayed alive for truly wished he died? He felt as though someone had just struck him hard in the stomach, knocking the breath from his body.
“When you saw her again did she offer any explanation?” Ronan asked.
“I have not seen her. She has stayed in her hut these three days. Only your mother, Una, and Morna have spoken to her. And to be honest, I don’t think I could have faced her if she had come out.”
Ronan was not prepared for this. He knew she might not wish to relinquish her past and remain in the village as Bridget, but he never distrusted her love. A part of him wanted to race back to the ships and run away from the doubt now plaguing his heart, but he was not going to flee. He would not back down. After coming so far and fighting through the very depths of hell to return to her, by God, he would hear her denial of their love from her own lips.
“Get out of my way, Aidan,” he snarled. Aidan did not have to be asked twice, for which Ronan was thankful. Rage threatened to explode inside him, and Aidan would not have escaped injury if he tried to intervene again.
Once more, Ronan dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, pushing the beast onward as if the Devil himself was behind him in flaming pursuit. He sped through the village pathways heedless of the chickens and sheep that skirted the horse’s pounding hooves. When he came upon Shoney’s hut, he pulled his mount to an abrupt halt and leapt to the ground. He stomped up to the door and raised his fist, swinging it down with pounding force but stopped just before his knuckles connected with the wood.