High on a Mountain

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High on a Mountain Page 13

by Tommie Lyn


  Brìghde’s lips compressed and worry puckered the skin around her eyes. She hurried after Mùirne and Ailean. The other women crowded around Aodh, all of them clamoring to know where their own husbands and sons were.

  “They’ve gone with Prionnsa Teàrlach to Edinburgh. They are all in fine health, none wounded, none killed,” Aodh said.

  “None wounded?”

  “Prionnsa Teàrlach?”

  “What happened?”

  All the women spoke at once.

  He shook his head and put up his hand to quiet them. “Let me sit and rest a bit. Then I’ll answer all your questions as best I can.”

  Aodh led the way to his cottage, entered and sat on his chair by the fire. The women gathered around him.

  “Prionnsa Teàrlach Stiùbhart has come to Scotland to take back his father’s rightful throne. The chief pledged our clan would help him. We fought a battle at Gladsmuir with—”

  “A battle!” one of the women interrupted.

  “Yes. Please, let me finish.”

  As he told them what had happened since the night of the fiery summons, Brìghde came in the open door. Aodh looked at his wife. “Brìghde, do you have some food? We haven’t had much to eat, and I’m hungry.”

  Brìghde shooed the women out of the cottage with the promise Aodh would tell them more after he had eaten and rested.

  ____________

  During the hard days that followed the homecoming, Mùirne and Brìghde doctored Ailean’s swollen, infected arm as best they could with herbs and poultices. But the infection spread through his body.

  In desperation, Brìghde resorted to magic charms and chants she’d learned from her grandmother, but Ailean grew weaker and sicker. At times, he shouted and thrashed about in a state of delirium. His fever broke one evening two weeks after he returned home, but it left him feeble and unable to get out of bed.

  The next morning, Mùirne helped him sit up in bed and brought a bowl of porridge for him. When he saw it, he shook his head.

  “But you have to eat something. You can’t get well if you don’t eat. Here, please, take just a few bites. Please,” Mùirne pleaded, holding out the bowl.

  He regarded the oatmeal porridge and nausea billowed at the sight of it. He closed his eyes and turned his head, pushing the bowl away. “I can’t.” He slid down in the bed and turned his back to her.

  She hurried to Brìghde’s cottage, wringing her hands. “It is I, Mùirne,” she called when she reached the door.

  “Come in.”

  “He won’t eat. What can I do?”

  Brìghde looked at her daughter-in-law’s worried face for a moment.

  “Go kill another hen and make more broth for him. But thicken it a little with oat flour. He’ll be able to drink that and it’ll give him strength.”

  Mùirne made the broth and brought it to Ailean. He sipped a little at a time throughout the day until it was gone. The next day, Mùirne made broth again, and Brìghde told her to put bits of vegetables and sprinkles of grain in it, and mash them to spread them through the liquid.

  Ailean did well with the liquid nourishment and gained strength. In a few days, he was able to get out of bed and sit on his chair by the fire for a little while.

  But after another week passed, although Ailean grew stronger day by day, he couldn’t yet do any of his usual chores. Coinneach recovered faster than Ailean but had occasional set-backs. Sometimes debilitating headaches kept him indoors and in bed for a day or more at a time. With the two of them incapacitated, the majority of the work load had to be carried by Aodh and Niall, with help from the women and children.

  ____________

  Aodh abandoned the planned cattle drive. Even if his sons were well enough, and even if his neighbors were home to help, it would be far too dangerous. He learned the Cambeuls were supporting King George II and had taken up arms against Prionnsa Teàrlach and his Jacobite supporters. Clan Cambeul had also opposed the Jacobites during the rising of 1715, when Aodh fought at Sheriffmuir.

  The lands of Clan MacLachlainn on the southeastern shore of Loch Fyne were surrounded by Clan Cambeul territory. Latharn Cambeul’s tack lay to the northeast, and other tacksmen held tracts to the east and south. Since driving the cattle to market would entail crossing land held by those Cambeul tacksmen, the normally risky venture was now impossibly dangerous. For the time being, Aodh decided his only option was to do his best to maintain the daily chores that all the men usually shared.

  Aodh worried about the loss of money. And he was distressed, because he knew many of the cattle he could have sold for profit would likely die during the cold winter months on the Highland hills. He debated with himself whether the cattle at the airigh should be brought down before the weather turned cold. If they were left there, they might stray so far they couldn’t all be rounded up again. They would be prey to theft, or they could starve to death in the cold weather.

  But if he brought them down, the scanty grazing on the croft would consign all the cattle to starvation. Aodh finally resigned himself to the loss, but he worried how, without the funds from the sale of their cattle, he and his neighbors could raise the yearly rent money they paid to Ruairidh.

  ____________

  Within a few more weeks, Ailean appeared to be fully recovered, but only he knew that he did not yet have his full strength. He pitched in and helped with the work as best he could. He tried to shoulder his share of the responsibilities even when he felt tired and weak.

  But more troubling to him than his physical weakness were the flashes of memory that plagued him. At times, he saw the faces of the men he had attacked with his sword on the battlefield. Ailean knew he had done his duty, yet he regretted the wounds and death he had inflicted on the Sasunnach soldiers. His inner conflict tormented him, kept him from resting at night and slowed his recovery.

  One morning, Ailean felt strong enough to climb to his favorite place on the mountain. He desperately needed the solace which always awaited him there, and he craved the tranquility that bathed his heart each time he viewed the beautiful vistas of his home from the heights. Surely if he could sit on his rock and think things through, he could sort it all out, could make sense of it, could find absolution for what he had done.

  When he arrived at the top of the mountain, he was exhausted and panting. The freshening breeze brought a wintry chill that erased the slight warmth of the sun’s rays, and Ailean shivered. He loosed the upper folds of his clothing from his brooch and pulled the fabric over his head and shoulders to shield himself from the cold wind.

  Ailean drank in the beautiful scenery spread below. Sunlight sparkled on the wind-tossed waters of the sea loch; clouds dragged their shadows over the hills and glens below and slid across the water to the other shore. It was a scene that always had the power to calm his soul and make him forget his troubles. But this day, he couldn’t find contentment.

  Battlefield screams echoed from his memory of the morning at Gladsmuir. A vision of a scarlet-coated soldier’s face, twisted in pain, overlaid the view of the croft below. His throat tightened, and he couldn’t swallow; a sickening pressure squeezed his chest and made it hard to breathe. Ailean buried his face in his hands, tried to slough off the leaden weight of guilt. He raised his head, mouth clamped shut, teeth grinding, and looked heavenward, silently pleading heaven’s forgiveness for the suffering and death he’d caused.

  The eastern sky birthed a bank of clouds which grew, swirled and pushed their way across the sky. Gray fingers of overcast blocked the sun, darkened the green of the trees below and stripped the life and color from the waters of the loch. It became a sullen ribbon of gray that stretched toward the west, bounded by the folds and pleats of hills and glens confining it.

  He relinquished his fruitless search for inner peace and started down the mountainside to Mùirne. Her love had served as a soothing balm to his soul, as her care helped him recover from his physical wound. But even in her arms, he could not find healing of mind.


  As the winter weather grew colder, Mùirne’s body grew larger and her condition became apparent. Ailean tried to focus his thoughts on the joy of having a new little one, a brother or sister for Coinneach-òg. The anticipation became one small, bright part of his life.

  TWENTY-ONE

  They ate supper in silence. Even Coinneach-òg remained subdued and withdrawn. Mùirne watched Ailean as he ate, his eyes averted, shoulders hunched.

  I have to find out what’s wrong, why he won’t talk to me. I wonder what I’ve done to make him so cold to me. Maybe if I could get him to talk to me about something, anything, things would be better.

  “How was Coinneach today? Is he better?” she asked.

  Ailean grunted in reply.

  She drew in a breath. “You’ve never told me about the battle. What was it like? What happened.”

  A flash of unfathomable emotion Mùirne couldn’t decipher replaced the faraway look in Ailean’s eyes. He stood, set his bowl on his chair and strode out the door.

  Mùirne couldn’t finish her meal. She put Coinneach-òg to be early, finished her nightly chores and lay across the bed. After a while, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and stared into the semi-darkness, unable to relax and fall asleep.

  She dozed finally and the scrape of the door opening woke her. She heard it close, heard the bar lowered into place. And felt Ailean’s presence when he lay on the bed next to her.

  She turned toward him, pulled herself close to his chilled body, and he gathered her into his arms. She’d felt secure in those strong arms throughout their marriage, but now Ailean needed to feel safe, needed a refuge, and Mùirne couldn’t provide it, no matter how she tried. They lay together, silent and awake, unable to penetrate the unseen barrier between them.

  The next day, it was Una’s turn to herd the sheep. Mùirne and Brìghde stayed by the fire in Brìghde’s cottage, carding wool and spinning. The men were busy with their chores, and the children were playing outside. Mùirne decided to confide in her mother-in-law.

  “I…I don’t know what’s wrong between Ailean and me, but, things have been…different since he came home. Has there ever been a time that was…a time when things were not right between you and Da Aodh?” She didn’t know how to ask Brìghde what she wanted to know.

  Brìghde hesitated, then replied without looking up, “Has he talked to you about the battle?”

  “No. He’s never said a word. I finally asked him about it last night, and he walked out of the house. He stayed out in the cold by himself for a long time and—”

  “That’s what is troubling Ailean. He has to come to peace within himself about it.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “You’ll have to let him tell you.”

  “But he won’t. He won’t talk about it at all.”

  Brìghde laid her carding combs on her lap and looked at her daughter-in-law’s worried face. “This sometimes happens to men when they are in battle. They can’t get over the regret they feel about killing other men.”

  “He’s troubled about the fighting?”

  “Aye.”

  “But he did his duty and fought. Didn’t he?”

  “Aye, and fought well, his Da said. But it plagues his mind, he suffers over it.” Brìghde stared into the fire silently for a few moments before speaking again. “Battle affects men in different ways. I know my son. Ailean will think about it, and he’ll find a way to make peace with himself.”

  She looked into Mùirne’s eyes. “You must be patient. He probably won’t ever be the same as he was, but he will find peace.”

  A pang of pity brought an ache to Mùirne’s throat and blurred her eyes. I’ll do what I can to help him get over this. If it means being patient, I’ll try to be patient.

  ____________

  One afternoon Aodh was on his way to the barn and heard a voice call, “Hello, the house.”

  Aodh turned to see who approached, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Fearghus MacLachlainn emerged from the woods, riding one of Ruairidh’s horses.

  “Ah, Fearghus. It’s good to see you. Come inside and warm yourself.” Aodh led the way to his cottage.

  “Thank you. I will. It’s bitter cold out today.” Fearghus dismounted and tied his horse to a rowan tree by Aodh’s cottage.

  They went inside and sat by the fire.

  “So, you are home from the army? Will the others be coming home soon?” Aodh asked. He was anxious to hear news of his neighbors.

  “I doubt if anyone else will be home any time soon. Ruairidh just sent me to get a few things,” Fearghus said. “And he told me to see how Ailean and Coinneach are, to see if they are well enough to return to the army.”

  “Ailean is doing some better, but he’s not well enough to fight. And Coinneach, he still has headaches so bad he can’t get out of bed some days,” Aodh said, the lines deepening around his eyes as he thought of his two sons.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Fearghus shook his head sympathetically. He took a breath and said, “You and Niall will have to return to the army soon.”

  “I expected to be called back.” Aodh stared into the fire. “Do you have any news of the other men?”

  “They’re all well.”

  “Ah, they’re well. Good. Thank you, Fearghus, you’ve eased my mind. I’ve been worried.” Aodh paused for a moment before continuing. “So, Niall and I are to go back to the army. Where is it now? The last word I had was that Prionnsa Teàrlach was going into England.”

  “I can only tell you what I know, and that is very little. The army has returned from England. But we MacLachlainns didn’t go with it. Prionnsa Teàrlach sent us to Perth to recruit more men for his army. And, of course, none of us but the chief can do that. They should let the rest of us come home, but…”

  “Hmmm,” Aodh said, noncommittally. He didn’t want to offend his guest, but even more than that, he didn’t want to say anything disloyal to the chief.

  He noticed Fearghus had lost a considerable amount of weight.

  “Will you stay and have a bite to eat with us?” Aodh asked.

  “I wish I could. But I have to start back soon. I just had to deliver the message.”

  “Of course.”

  Throughout the evening after Fearghus’ visit, memories of happier times came unbidden. Aodh closed his eyes and saw his sons as young boys, running, laughing, playing. He could hear them calling: “Daidein, look at this!” “Daidein, watch me!” “Da!” “Da!”

  Now, everything had changed. Coinneach wasn’t well, might not ever be well and whole again. Ailean was recovering physically, but he was troubled in his soul. And Niall, well, his Niall was going back to the army, back into danger.

  Aodh’s shoulders sagged under the heavy burden of his cares.

  Why? Why did things have to be this way? He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could rub away all his worries, wishing he could make everything all right again.

  ____________

  “Hello, the house.”

  Aodh looked up from his work repairing a flail that had broken during threshing and saw Gabhran MacEòghainn and Boisil MacLachlainn and their sons coming down the path. Aodh hurried to meet them, his mouth stretched in a heartfelt smile of greeting. The boys went on to their homes, but the men stopped to talk to Aodh.

  “It’s good to see you. How is it that you’ve come home?” Aodh asked.

  “We heard the Argyll Militia was active, and we got worried. Ruairidh let us come home to check on our families,” Boisil said. “But he said you and Niall are to come back right away. Coinneach and Ailean, too, if they’ve recovered enough.”

  “They haven’t.” Aodh stroked his beard. “I suppose Niall and I had better get ourselves ready to leave.” He started for the barn, but turned back. “I’ve tried to get everything done, but there are still some other things that need to be taken care of before the worst of the cold weather gets here.”

  “We’ll see to it,” Gabhran MacEòghainn said.


  “I didn’t bring the cattle at the airigh down. They may freeze up there or wander away, but if we bring them down with the others, they all might starve. And there’s no way to drive them to market now. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just left them where they are.”

  The men considered the situation without speaking.

  “I suppose you did right. I can’t think of anything else you could have done,” Boisil said.

  “I’m glad you’re home to look after things.” Aodh headed to the barn to put the tools away.

  ____________

  Late in the day, Faolan MacEòghainn came to the MacLachlainn’s cottage.

  “Come sit by the fire,” Brìghde said.

  Faolan sat fidgeting, not saying much, as Niall and Aodh sharpened their swords and dirks. When Niall replaced his weapons in their scabbards, Faolan asked him to step outside. Aodh wondered what matter was of such importance that it would send them into the cold for a private discussion. He glanced out the window occasionally at them, his curiosity piqued. But he didn’t want them to suspect he was watching them.

  Once, he saw Niall shake his head and step backward, away from Faolan. His mind returned to the days when Niall was a little boy, when Aodh knew all his boyish cares and dreams and wishes. Now, Niall was almost a man and, since the battle, he had kept his own counsel, not sharing his thoughts with his father.

  Faolan walked away, and Niall came inside. He perched on the edge of his chair, holding his hands over the fire to warm them. He scanned the cottage, resting his gaze on each item of furniture, each fixture. He looked at the blackened rafters overhead. But he didn’t speak, and Aodh asked him no questions.

  Niall stared into the fire, and Aodh sensed a building tension in his son. Abruptly, Niall stood and went outside. Aodh watched through the window as Niall scuffed a foot across the grass, broke a twig from a low bush and twirled it absently, apparently deep in thought. He paused for a moment, then headed toward Ailean’s cottage.

 

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