by Peg Herring
Chapter Twenty-One
Jamie didn’t follow the river’s main course for long but steered into a smaller stream. Here the current was stronger, and Banaugh joined him on the seat, taking an oar. Working together the two guided the boat upstream where after an hour’s hard rowing they entered a small tarn, or lake, formed by a low-lying swale the river passed into and out again several hundred yards later.
Tessa stared in amazement, for on the east side of the tarn stood something she had never seen before. “What is it, Banaugh?” Floating like a mirage in the center of the lake was a castle, a rather small one to be sure, but impressive in both its simplicity and its placement.
“Tis a crannog,” the old man answered. “Once there were many sech across Scotland, bu’ they ha’ gradually been replaced by more modern fortresses. Tha’ one is a jewel, I mus’ say.” He spoke truly, for the small fort apparently defied gravity, sitting on the surface of the water. “They were built tha’ way for safety, o’ course. Wood pilings are driven int’ the water, then a platform spans th’ pilings an’ th’ fort is built o’er th’ platform. Difficult t’ do, o’ course, but difficult for an enemy t’ reach as well. The walkway between th’ gate an’ th’ lake edge can be taken up for defense.”
Tessa saw the feature Banaugh indicated was made of wooden sections roped together. These could easily be pulled back if danger approached, effectively protecting the inhabitants from any threat on horseback or afoot.
“What do you know of this place?” she asked Jamie.
“Tha’ is Arleigh. The auld laird died some time back, so th’ runnin’ o’ th’ place is left to ‘is wife, th’ Lady Miriam. Tha’ is a strange one, folk say. A body nae kens hae she will tak’ visitors. “Tis best t’ pass by quiet.”
“Is this lady not in danger with English troops so close by? We should warn her.”
“Ach, Miss, tha’ will know it all,” Jamie averred. “Lady Miriam is hersel’ nae one t’ leave th’ crannog, bu’ she hears ever’thing an’ kens ever’thing. She is said by some t’ be a witch!” He made the sign to ward off evil as he spoke, and his young face pinched with earnestness.
Tessa cast a glance at Banaugh, who shook his head slightly. They had no need of more strange acquaintances. Nodding, she signaled her agreement that they pass by, and the two pulled at the oars again. By tacit consent the crossing was silent, and they skirted the far side of the tarn, hoping to enter the river without attracting the attention of those in the crannog.
It was not to be, however, for when they neared the mouth of the river, two small rowboats appeared at either side of it, pushed from places of hiding on the shore. The men in them must have circled the tarn’s rim quickly and stealthily and boarded boats stored there for the express purpose of intercepting travelers. Each craft held two armed soldiers who knelt menacingly fore and aft, arrows nocked in bowstrings half-taut. Two sturdy rowers sat ready to move into place at the river’s mouth, blocking passage. One of the men, a strongly built fellow with pale hair, hailed them. He alone wore the long sword some Scots preferred. Most fighting men chose the bow or the spear, cheaper weapons to make and maintain.
“Travelers, who are ye and where do ye travel?”
Banaugh nudged Jamie to answer, hoping they could pass for locals. “I am James, son o’ James the Shepherd. I travel upriver t’ Dunangus, m’ home village.”
The man, Tessa could now see, was young but square-jawed and stone-faced, giving no indication of amity. “And who are your companions?”
Banaugh spoke for them. “We are on our way t’ Loch Lomond. The laddie here offered space i’ his boat for help wi’ th’ rowing, the better for us a’ to arrive quickly.”
The man showed no sign of belief or disbelief, waiting until Banaugh finished and then demanding, “My lady begs your attendance upon her so that she may speak with ye.”
“We wuld nae at another time refuse a lady’s request, bu’ we needs must continue on our way before night catches us on th’ river. We hae some urgent business at Loch Lomond tha’ argues our traveling onward.” Banaugh tried for firm politeness.
Just as firmly the soldier answered, “Your business must wait. As for a night on the river, there is no need to concern yourselves with that. My lady will provide you with food, drink and a place to rest comfortably. She insists you accept her invitation.”
It was no request, however politely it was phrased. The men stood ready to stop them if they tried to pass, and their manner conveyed determination to conduct the three of them to the lady of the crannog.
“I think we must go with them, Banaugh,” Tessa murmured.
“Aye, lass, ye hae th’ right o’ it,” he muttered back. “I hope tha’ th’ Widow Miriam is nae so hard t’ deal wi’ as young Jamie here has heard.”
The three were escorted to a water gate on the lake side of the crannog. An opening in the wall allowed Jamie to row right into the structure and up to a pier guarded by two more men at arms. Tying up the boat, the men assisted the three of them up wooden steps to the platform level. As they stood wondering what would happen next, the pale giant alighted from his own boat and joined them. “This way.” He opened a door at the back of the boathouse and ushered them through it.
A short passageway led to an open hall where the man stopped and waited, no expression on his face. Tessa looked around her in some wonder. One would not guess they stood on water, for the inside of the place was warmer, drier and more comfortable than many castles she had been in. The walls were hung with tapestries the like of which she had never seen, not pictures as she was used to, but geometric shapes portrayed in beautifully deep colors. The furnishings, too, were different from the ordinary, with curves where most pieces had corners.
Movement in a doorway opposite caught her eye, and there stood a young woman of extraordinary and exotic beauty. She had large, almond-shaped brown eyes, dusky skin, and hair as black and shiny as obsidian. Her plain blue dress was traditionally cut, but she had added a trailing scarf and a necklace of intricate design, lending a foreign look to the ensemble that matched her appearance. Tessa and she were about the same age, but clearly not of the same race or background.
The young woman pushed before her a chair on wheels, another surprise. In it sat a pathetically shrunken form swathed in rich black. Even the head was covered so only the face and two gnarled hands showed. The limbs were twisted cruelly and the back so curved that the afflicted woman had to hold her head at an acute angle to see before her. The face that met Tessa’s, though, was intelligent and curious. Black eyes shone with interest, and her features, under the ravages of years of pain, showed traces beauty.
The woman looked carefully at each of the newcomers, her gaze settling on Tessa in some private moment of decision. At a sign from the chair’s occupant, the stone giant spoke, and Tessa detected a different note in his voice, some human warmth. “The Lady Miriam of Arleigh gives you greetings. You two—” He indicated Jamie and Banaugh “—will go with Ayla, who will attend to your needs so you are pre—prepared for the evening meal.” He’d almost said “presentable”, and Tessa smiled. They must be offensive to both the eye and the nose. “When the interview is over, Ayla will also see to your needs,” he told Tessa. With a curt nod, he left the room.
The old one in the wheeled chair said nothing. The other, who stood with eyes downcast until the blond man was gone, now looked at them with frank curiosity. Finally she spoke to Jamie and Banaugh, her voice low and pleasing. “Please follow me. The Lady Miriam wishes to speak to your companion alone. You are quite safe and will be reunited at the evening meal.”
The question foremost in Tessa’s mind at this point was, should she reveal her sex to these people or attempt to remain disguised? Instinct told her if they had meant her ill, she would already be dead. On a moment’s decision, she spoke for the first time, choosing to trust her first impression.
“I am Tessa, late of the king’s household. I will be glad to answer the lady
’s questions, and grateful if you can show my companions a place to rest.”
Surprise flickered across the girl’s face, but the older woman’s face showed satisfaction that she had chosen correctly. She said nothing, but on Ayla’s face a shy smile bloomed. “Tessa,” she repeated. “I will provide hot water, clean clothing, and refreshment. If you will come with me, sir—” She bowed slightly to Banaugh. “—and the other gentleman will go with this lad.” A serving boy who had stood back until this moment came forward, trying to maintain a dignified air, but clearly excited to be given responsibility for the needs of guests. For his part, Jamie straightened visibly at being referred to as a gentleman. Banaugh started to object at being separated from Tessa, but she stepped in.
“Go ahead, Banaugh. It will be all right.” She smiled at Ayla, who for some reason inspired trust. The two left with their escorts, and Tessa found herself alone with the pitifully deformed woman, who had as yet not spoken a word.
Recalling Jamie’s warning that Miriam was “odd” and believed by some to be a witch, Tessa tried to look past the obvious ugliness and find the personality beneath. The woman let her form her own impression, saying nothing. She supposed this place could be another like Hawick’s, where travelers were held for ransom or perhaps murdered for their goods, but she did not think so. In this woman’s eyes Tessa saw only interest, not the greed so easily read in Hawick’s expression or the self-interest in Mairie’s. Truth would do here, not all of it, perhaps, but most.
“You seek news of Macbeth?” she asked the woman.
“Yes,” the voice was surprisingly strong, belying her physical weakness. “It is important to my people that we know what lies before us.”
Did the woman hope to see the king deposed? Many did, judging from talk she and Banaugh had heard on the trip north. The woman interrupted her thoughts with an assurance, for the first time showing some humanity. “You should know, whoever you may be, that I wish the king well, and I care not who knows it. He has been for many years our friend, and lately our liege lord. He and my husband traveled together as young men, to Spain, where we became friends. He was present at my wedding to Arbeen Arleigh.”
Tessa’s surprise must have shown plainly, for the lady chuckled. Her explanation explained the odd differences in the castle’s furnishings, the exotic look of the servant girl Ayla, and the stories and rumors Jamie had heard of this place and this woman. Her foreignness alone would have been enough to convince the superstitious locals she was a witch. Digesting the information about her friendship with Macbeth, Tessa revised her assessment of the situation. Here was an ally who might be trusted with all of the truth. Still, she was cautious.
“I cannot tell you the final outcome, but I was with the king when the battle began. The English troops, supporting Malcolm Canmore, came upon his castle in great strength. Many of the king’s troops deserted him in the days before, and many fled with us as we escaped. The king chose to leave the castle and meet his enemies full on.” Here the image of her uncle’s despairing mien as he made that decision overpowered her, and her eyes filled with tears.
“He sent you to safety?” The dark eyes showed understanding that this girl disguised as a peasant boy was somehow valuable to Macbeth. Tessa wondered how she had guessed that of the three visitors, this one was more than appearances indicated.
“Yes. He had lost so much, he said. He wanted me to live. I—” The tensions of her last encounter and the escape caught up with her again, and Tessa fought back tears. “—I doubt he has survived, though he had some hope of it, claiming he cannot be killed.”
“By a man born of woman. Yes, he told me.” The old woman’s tone revealed disbelief in Macbeth’s claim, and Tessa’s eyes widened at the information. “Perhaps I should explain who I am, and that will give you some idea of how much you will want to trust me.” This was said in a matter-of-fact tone, acknowledging the need Tessa might feel to lie, or at least withhold some facts. “Twenty years ago, more or less, I lived in Spain. I am a Moor. Are you acquainted with my people?”
Tessa blushed and admitted she knew little aside from the fact that the Moors ruled Spain and were of a religion other than Christian. She had vague memories of her father’s stories of his travels and of the Islamic Spaniards who had befriended him. She recalled tales of their odd customs, their interesting religion, and their impressive accomplishments.
Miriam smiled. “My people came from Africa three hundred years ago and conquered the Gothic tribes of Spain. Although we are Muslims, followers of the Prophet Mohammed, we gained the respect of many Christians because of our devotion to learning. Still, our empire has begun to fail of late, and it’s only a matter of time until we are driven from Spain. The vizier, Almazor, struggles to keep his power, but there is dissention within the government and strong movements outside it to Christianize Spain once more. It is sad to see the end of an era when Christians and Muslims lived together in peace.”
Miriam examined her claw-like hands for a moment. “Of course, I cared little about history and politics as a girl. I grew up in a beautiful city called Granada where my father’s wealth provided me with lovely things, a good education, and a happy childhood. When I was fifteen, three young men came into my life. They were on a sort of discovery tour, traveling through Europe as knights-errant, winning tournaments and sampling the delights of each city they visited. They would never have come into contact with us except for an unusual circumstance.”
“As my father returned form a business trip, word got out he carried a large sum of money. A band of brigands attacked his party, killing the two guards he’d hired. He managed to ride off, but the robbers pursued and would have overtaken him except for the three young men I mentioned earlier. Seeing his situation they came to his rescue, defeating all six bandits and killing two. My father was so grateful that he invited these young men to stay in his home, where he rewarded them and ordered a banquet in their honor.”
“And there you met them?”
The woman smiled and her ravaged face was transformed. “Not at first. It is not the custom among Muslims to introduce females of the household to guests. Still, my father was very proud of me, and especially of my musical talent. He was not as strict as some, and after several visits, when the young men had shown themselves to be honorable sorts and good companions, he asked me to sing and play the lute for them. I did so, completely veiled, of course, but I became enthralled with these three giants, Arbeen in particular.
“I arranged to play for them more and more often.” She stopped momentarily and looked again at her hands, now twisted and useless with huge lumps at the joints. “I was a good musician—before this. Arbeen was always soothed by the sound of my lute, and he used to beg me to play in the evenings, until he saw how much it hurt me. My husband was always concerned for my comfort, even at the last, when he was in such pain himself.”
Her voice took on a dreamy quality, as if she had forgotten Tessa was there. “His heart failed him, and he slowly faded from the man I fell in love with in Granada to a pitiful shell, unable to cross this room without tiring. Still, I loved him just as much as—” With an effort, Miriam pulled herself back to the story.
“At any rate, much to my father’s dismay, I found myself in love with this pale-skinned, red-haired Scotsman, and he with me. We began meeting in secret, with his two friends playing Cupid by distracting Father’s attention. They would ask him to take them hawking or riding, and Arbeen would claim prior engagements. I would tell my chaperone I simply must visit the marketplace, and there he would be. The poor woman didn’t know whose anger to fear more, mine or my father’s, but in the end I won.”
Miriam shifted her body to a less painful position, and the chair squeaked in protest. “I was a headstrong girl, you see, determined to have my way. In the end I told my father I would marry Arbeen and no other. At first he raged, threatened to lock me away, threatened to marry me to the first Muslim who would have such a witless woman, but I
knew him well. Father could deny me nothing, and in the end I got my Scotsman.”
Tessa imagined the shocked reaction of Miriam’s friends and family. The Moors considered themselves more advanced than Europeans in general, but Scots were seen as mere tribesmen with no culture whatsoever. The wedding must have been the talk of Granada for months.
“My father gave in,” the lady continued, “on the condition Arbeen agreed to live in Granada. His two friends returned to Scotland without him. He tried to be happy there, but I knew he missed his homeland. When my father died, I suggested we come here to live, and I have never looked back.” The lady’s lips closed as if she could tell more but would not. Living here had probably not been easy for her.
Clarification was needed on one point, though Tessa thought she knew the answer. “The two companions who accompanied your husband to Granada?”
“Macbeth and Kenneth macFindlaech,” came the brusque answer, “as if you did not already know. Did your father not tell you of his friend and his Arab wife?”
Tessa blushed. “He did, but it was like the tales of fairies he also told. I was never sure it was true, and he did not know you had come to Scotland.”
Miriam nodded. “Kenneth had by then rejected Scottish politics and moved into the hills. He was always the gentler of the two, careful of everyone’s feelings and concerned with the wrongs of the world.” She smiled. “He fretted over our marriage, fearing we would be outcasts.”
“And were you?”
Miriam considered her answer. “We were, but it meant little to us since we wanted only each other’s company. The Moors snubbed Arbeen’s lack of sophistication, and the Scots refused to accept my race and religion. Aside from your uncle and a few others, we were left to ourselves.”
“How did you know he is my uncle? I never said so.”
Miriam’s smiled slyly. “You wonder if the tales of witchcraft might be true. It is not magic I practice, merely deduction and years of observation. You have your father’s eyes and his way of tilting your head to one side when you ask a question. Macbeth took pains to get you away from danger, which means he cares about you. I know he has but one brother—” She shrugged expressively.
“Had. My father died several years ago.”
“I am sorry. Kenneth was a good man.” She smiled in remembrance. “I think I could have fallen in love with any of them back then. They were so big and full of life, so different from what I had known.”
“I’m sure they were impressed with you as well.”
“In those days I was not as you see me, of course. I was thought a beauty. Even the Scottish bigots admitted that: ‘Poor Arbeen—blinded by the charms of a heathen.’ This…affliction came on slowly, over the years, first just stiffness in the joints, then more and more difficulty, until I could no longer walk, or weave, or even hold a book.” It appeared the last was the most difficult to accept.
“You saw my uncle recently?”
“Yes. He had not been here since Arbeen’s funeral, but about ten days ago he appeared at the lakeshore, looking lost and half-dazed. Hamish brought him across in a boat, and he stayed a few hours, telling strange things.”
Tessa nodded. “About three weird women?”
Miriam’s eyes showed interest. “You know of them?”
“I have met them.”
“They said he could not be killed by an ordinary man.”
“He said something of the same to me. I don’t remember the exact words.”
“‘No man of woman born shall harm Macbeth,’” Miriam quoted.
“When they predicted my future, I thought them mad,” Tessa said, biting her lip, “but the things they said came true. Not in the way I imagined, but true, nonetheless.” Suddenly she felt weary beyond speech. So much had happened to her since she first met those three. They had foreseen, if not engineered, the ruination of her family. Tears stung her eyes.
“I would be interested in hearing more about that,” said Miriam, her face softening at the girl’s unhappiness, “but I have worn you out with an old woman’s babbling.”
Ayla appeared in the doorway, where she probably had awaited some signal from the lady of the manor. “It is almost time to eat, and you have had no chance to refresh yourself.” Miriam gestured to Ayla, who moved to a small closet directly off the large room, gesturing for Tessa to follow. “We will continue our conversation later, if you are so inclined,” Miriam said as a servant came forward to assist her, pushing the chair from the room.
Once inside the smaller room, Ayla pulled a curtain for privacy and invited Tessa to sit on a small cot while they waited for the things she had arranged for her guest’s comfort. She sat on a nearby stool.
“You will feel better when you have bathed and changed. I’ve had your things brought up from the boat.”
“You are very kind.” Tessa breathed a sigh of some depth. “I’ve had so many surprises today I don’t know how I feel. We were not sure if our presence here would be welcome or not.” She didn’t say what she had heard.
“The lady allows tales of her prickliness to circulate. It discourages visitors.” Ayla smiled. “Mystery and dark hints are her way of protecting her territory. I am sorry if Hamish frightened you on the tarn. He is utterly devoted to our lady, but he is sometimes formidable.” An understatement, but it was good to hear he was loyal to Miriam. “Hamish is responsible for our defense, but you will see we are very few in number. This has made him rather more serious than he was in the past, when he was only one of Arbeen’s lieutenants.”
“I’m sure it’s a strain to be in charge of the lady’s lands as well as her safety.”
“Laird Arleigh trusted Hamish completely. Because he was away much of the time from his lands in his younger days, he refortified this old crannog to make it difficult for invaders to reach. Since it lies upriver and away from main travel ways, there aren’t many passers-by, and we have had no trouble. Still, since the laird’s death, Hamish spends much time inspecting, repairing and watching.” She sounded almost angry at her protector’s industriousness.
A servant appeared at that moment with a ewer of hot water, which she poured into a basin, mixing it with cold from a pitcher already there. “I will leave you to yourself,” Ayla told Tessa. “You will hear a bell when dinner is prepared, and you will see your friends again at the meal.” Then she was gone, the servant following with a quick bob of respect.