I surrender to their care. I’ve never liked being the center of attention, but I know they mean well. One of them even sneaks me a wedge of hearthcake, covered in thick butter, which helps raise my spirits a little.
“Well, that was dramatic,” Aileen says as she saunters through the sickboth door. She’s changed into dry clothes, but her rust-colored hair is still sodden from the sea.
“Aileen!”
The Herbists step aside to give us some space. Aileen clasps my fists.
“Thought I’d better check you were still alive,” she says.
“Just about.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Bit embarrassed, maybe. What are people saying? Are they laughing at me?”
“No. Why would they be laughing?”
“Because I’m supposed to be an Angler and I nearly drowned. . . .”
“No one even knows. Or cares. I promise.”
“Really?”
“Really really. So stop worrying. And that’s an order.” She points her finger at me and gives me her best stern look.
“Okay. Thanks.” And I mean it. She always knows the right thing to say.
There’s a tickle in my throat. I start coughing. There must still be seawater in my lungs. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop.
“Are you harassing our patient?” says one of the Herbists, coming back over to check on me.
“Nothing to do with me,” says Aileen, holding up her hands.
“Well, I think you’d better let this little mouse get some rest,” says the Herbist, patting my back and rubbing my chest at the same time. The cough begins to ease.
“See you in the morning,” says Aileen. She can’t resist rubbing her knuckles on my head before she goes.
“Good night,” I say, knocking her hand away. She leaves me with a big smile on my face.
Not long after, the Herbists leave as well, telling me multiple times on their way out how important it is that I go straight to sleep. Before I have the chance to obey their instructions, there is a knock on the sickboth door and Maighstir Ross enters.
“Jaime-Iasgair. How are you feeling?” he asks.
Wow. The Ceremony really must be a big deal if I’m getting visits from the clan chief himself.
“I’m fine,” I say for the thousandth time. “Thank you.”
“Very well.” He pauses for a moment as if he might say something else, then lowers his head to go back through the doorway. That was brief.
“Maighstir Ross —?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t take his hand off the door handle.
“I was thinking . . . I was told I have to go to Kilmaluag Bay tomorrow with the other Anglers from my boat, to fish from the shoreline, but . . . I was wondering if I could maybe stay with the Wasps instead?”
His forehead creases. “You want to what?”
“Stay with the Wasps. As part of my training. I thought if I watch how they put a new boat together, I could learn how to fix it, in case anything goes wrong while we’re out at sea.” I don’t know where I’m finding the courage to make such a suggestion. “And also, the bay is quite far; it would probably be better for my health to stay here in the enclave.” I let out a pitiful cough to emphasize my point.
Maighstir Ross isn’t stupid. He must know that I’m not getting on well as an Angler, but it is not dùth to work for a duty other than one’s own, so what I am requesting is bordering on unlawful. His face softens and he gives me the faintest hint of a smile.
“Very well,” he says, “but you must learn through observation only. You are an Angler now. You would be wise to embrace that fact.”
“Yes, Maighstir.”
“Now get some rest. We need you fit and healthy for the Ceremony.”
The kindness in his eyes disappears the moment he mentions the Ceremony. It was the slightest shift, but I definitely saw it. He blows out the lantern with a fierce breath, plummeting the sickboth into darkness. The door clatters as he leaves.
I try to sleep, but a hundred thoughts itch my brain. Mainly about the Ceremony, of course. The declaration was made a week ago. When they first called me into the meeting circle, my whole body buzzed with excitement. I knew I was about to receive my dreuchd — my calling in life. I’d been waiting for it ever since I’d turned fourteen. Being part of a duty and working for the good of the whole clan: that is the greatest honor of all.
My enthusiasm soon faded when they named me an Angler. I had to fight hard to hide my disappointment; all duties are equally important, after all. I’m proud to be an Angler. I am. And the elders would have had a good reason for making the choice they did. I just need to work harder at being better at it.
As soon as the announcement was made, the other Anglers entered the circle and smeared my body with the guts of a freshly killed fish. Not the most enjoyable experience, if I’m honest, but that’s the way it’s always been. As a result, I was soaking wet and reeking of fish guts when, a short while later, they called me into the circle for a second time. I stepped forward, blood dripping from my scrawny arms. With the eyes of the whole clan on me, I willed myself not to shiver. I’d never heard of anyone being called twice in one night, so I was immediately on edge, imagining the worst. It was Maighstir Ross who made the declaration, his eyes locked on mine. He described it as “a pivotal gesture to ensure positive diplomatic relations for many generations to come.” A sickening silence followed, and it wasn’t until Maighstir Clyde shouted “May Clann-a-Tuath forever be strong” that everyone raised their fists and started to cheer. Their faces, however, could not hide their confusion.
But it’s happening. All the arrangements have been made.
I am going to be married.
To a girl from the Isle of Raasay.
No one wants the marriage to take place, least of all me. Marriage is wrong; everyone knows that. No matter what the elders tell me, it’s obvious the only reason I was “chosen” was because I was the right age and the least likely to object. If I’d drowned today, I’m sure they would have found a replacement easily enough.
People keep telling me what an honor it is, but they’re only saying that to try and make me feel better. There are six clans on Skye and none of them has allowed marriage for over a century, so I’m going to be the only married person on the whole island. Not even Maighstir Ross could hide his disdain for what is going to happen. No one is going to want anything to do with me afterward, I’m sure of it. I’ll be nothing more than a walking reminder of our clan’s weakness.
Clann-a-Tuath has always been proud, standing strong against our enemies and our allies, both on the Isle of Skye and over the sea. So why compromise our beliefs now?
There is definitely more to this union than the elders are letting on. Something has made them desperate. Something out of their control. Whatever it is, it can only be something bad.
“I TOLD YOU FROM THE START IT WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA.”
“That sort of talking is not going to get us anywhere, Clyde.”
“All I’m saying is that this was always going to happen, and if we keep her up there, it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.”
“I agree, she’s proved that she’s a liability in positions of trust.”
“More than that, we need to discuss punishment. The girl ought to be punished.”
There are lots of voices talking so it’s hard to know who is saying what. I’m not supposed to be in the elder bothan because it’s out of bounds which means I can’t go there. That’s why I’m hiding. I will be in big trouble if they find me.
“Surely stripping her of her duty would be punishment enough?”
“Come now, it was an honest mistake. She didn’t mean any harm.” It is Maighstir Ross who said that, I think. He is the clan chief for this moon, which means he is the most important one. There are seven elders and every moon they change who is the chief which is to be fair.
“I know she didn’t mean any harm, but that didn’t s
top her from causing it. We’re lucky no one drowned. Not to mention the loss of the boat. It’ll take the Wasps weeks to replace it.”
“Clyde’s right. We’re living in a dangerous time. We can’t chance anything — or anyone — putting this clan at risk. Especially after what happened to Clann-na-Bruthaich.”
“We’re not sure what happened to Clann-na-Bruthaich. Not entirely.”
“We are sure: they were taken by deamhain. Which means we are exposed here. Exposed and vulnerable. Particularly with her as our first line of defense.” That was Maighstir Clyde who said that. I don’t like him very much because sometimes he is a mean one.
“We always knew it was a risk to make Agatha a Hawk, but let us remind ourselves that she has always been one of the most loyal and hardworking members of this clan,” Maighstir Ross says.
“She’s also a retarch, and nearly killed twelve people.”
“Clyde, that’s enough.”
For the first time since the meeting started, everyone is quiet. It’s true, I did nearly kill that many people. I didn’t mean to. It was only a mistake. Now the elders are deciding what to do with me. I’m here because I want to know. I came up after morning meal when no one was looking. No one lives in this bothan. It is only for meetings. That is why they built it away from the other ones and on the hill. It is a circle shape and all that is inside it is seven chairs and the big chest that is where I am hiding in. The chest had lots of things in it before so I had to take them all out first and hide them outside. That was a clever plan. Then I got into the chest and waited. The elders did not come for a long time so I was waiting a long time. I do not fit very well and it is uncomfortable. I’m glad I left Milkwort in the hole in my bed. He likes it there and he is safe there. If I’d brought him with me he would be squished like me.
“There are three separate matters here,” Maighstir Ross says. “Whether we let the girl remain within her duty, what we would do with her if she were to be stripped of it, and, regardless of both, whether a punishment is deemed necessary or appropriate. Let us start with the issue of her duty.”
“There has been no recorded instance of a clan member being stripped of their duty, except in cases of exile.”
“Can’t she remain a Hawk in name, on a quieter section of the wall, perhaps, under heavier supervision?” Maybe it was Maistreas Sorcha who said that.
“She was supposedly under Lenox’s supervision yesterday, and look where that got us.”
“And can we really spare a pair of Hawk eyes watching over her? They’re spread thinly enough as it is. If the threat of the deamhain is real, we need all eyes on the sea.”
Why is he saying deamhain?
“So what are the alternatives?” says someone. I don’t know who.
“She could retrain as a Wrasse,” says Maistreas Eilionoir, I think.
“The Wrasses wouldn’t have her — she’s clumsy and incompetent. Isn’t that why we stuck her up on the wall in the first place? In the hope she might fall off and do us all a favor?”
What did he say? That’s not right. It is hard to hear in the chest.
“That kind of talk is not helpful, Clyde.”
“I’m not going to apologize for saying what we were all thinking. We didn’t make her a Hawk because we thought she’d actually be good at it. We wanted her out of the way. The clan’s disgrace. Finally, she has lived up to her reputation.”
My eyes are starting to get angry. What he is saying cannot be true. I am a good Hawk, I am a good Hawk.
“I am a good Hawk!”
I have said it out loud because I couldn’t stop it. Now no one is talking. There are footsteps walking and then the lid opens. Light from the room is bright. I blink and Maistreas Sorcha is there.
“It appears we have company,” she says. Maistreas Sorcha is the youngest one of the elders. She is pretty and nice. She helps me out of the chest which is hard for me because I am tangled.
I step out. All the elders are looking at me. I don’t like it so I look up at the ceiling. It is covered in shadows all moving about like they are shadow things. They are not shadow things though because if they were we would be dead. They’d rip us all apart. That is what the shadow things do and you can’t even stop them. Also the shadow things are only on the mainland and not on Skye so they wouldn’t be here.
Maighstir Ross talks. “Agatha. This is unexpected. I presume you are aware that entry to the elder bothan is strictly prohibited to all but the clan elders?” is what he says.
“I am a g-good Hawk,” I say again.
“You have displayed many qualities to attest to that fact, yes,” Maistreas Sorcha says, “but you have also put many lives at stake, and that cannot be overlooked.” She turns to the elders and then she says, “What should we do with her?”
“Since she’s here, she may as well stay to hear her fate,” says Maighstir Ross. He looks at me and points his finger. “But you are to remain silent at all times.”
I open my mouth to say that’s not fair but Maighstir Ross gives me a cross look so I don’t say it. Maighstir Clyde snorts. “If you’re keeping her here to hold my tongue, Ross, you can think again.”
“The time for talk is over,” says Maighstir Ross. “The fire is ready. Agatha, make yourself useful and hand me the bhòt-stones from inside the chest.”
The bhòt-stones are what they use for deciding.
“I need to — get them,” I say, and I go outside. It is dark outside now so it is hard for me to find the things where I hid them but I do.
“I hid them in the heather,” I say when I come back in. I think maybe they will tell me that was a clever plan, but they don’t. Maighstir Ross takes the bag with the stones in and then I sit on the chest because there is nowhere else for me to sit.
Maighstir Ross stands and empties the bag of stones into the fire. There are some black ones and some gray ones. He sits down and he says to me, “The flames have died down, but the ashes are still hot, so selecting a stone is a painful experience. This is to ensure that votes are cast only by those who are resolute in their decision. The elders of Clann-a-Tuath have voted in this way for many generations.” Then he says to the other elders, “Matter the first. Concerning whether Agatha-Cabhar, here present, ought to be punished for the destruction of one Angler fishing boat plus contents, as well as risking the lives of no fewer than twelve Anglers on board said boat. All those wishing to cast, do so now.”
Maighstir Clyde stands up first. He looks into the fire and then puts his hand in at the bottom and takes out a stone. He does not show that it hurts. He has chosen a black one. He throws the stone to the side and sits back down. Some of the other elders do the same thing. The stones that they choose are gray ones. After a bit, Maighstir Ross says, “Na clachan bhòtaidh deiseil?”
“Tha bhòtaidh deiseil. Dearbh dhuinn an fhìrinn,” say the other elders together. I don’t understand it because it is the old language.
Maighstir Ross looks down at the pile of stones and then says, “At a count of one in favor, four against, two abstaining, it is agreed that no punishment shall befall her. Leig leis.”
“Leig leis,” says everyone else.
Maighstir Ross looks at me and I think he is happy. I am happy that I will not be punished too. He picks up the stones and puts them back into the fire.
“Matter the second,” he says. “Concerning whether Agatha-Cabhar, here present, ought to be stripped of her Hawk duty. All those wishing to cast, do so now.”
I am not happy anymore. I want to speak or scream maybe, but I have made the promise to be quiet. I am a Hawk. They cannot make me not be a Hawk. They cannot do it, please they cannot.
Maighstir Clyde is the first one to choose a stone from the fire again. The other elders choose their ones too. The only person who doesn’t do it is Maistreas Eilionoir. She stays in her seat, watching everyone and me.
“Seo clach-bhòt ullamh?” Maighstir Ross says afterward, and everyone answers again. He looks at the ne
w pile of stones. This time they are all black ones.
“At a vote of six in favor, one abstaining, it is agreed that as of this moment Agatha-former-Cabhar is no longer recognized as a Hawk of Clann-a-Tuath. Leig leis.”
“Leig leis,” everyone says.
What? No. I stand up. They can’t do that.
“You can’t do that,” I shout. “You can’t do that!” My teeth are aching.
“Agatha.” Maighstir Ross’s voice is calm. “I allowed you to stay in the hope that through witnessing the process, you would have more of an understanding of how our decisions are made, and the finality of the outcomes.”
“But you can’t,” I say again. “I am a good Hawk, I am a g-good Hawk.”
I need to throw something. I grab a cup and a blanket and everything I can find and I throw them. I don’t care who they hit or if they go in the fire. Hands are trying to get me but I won’t let them. I pick up the big chest at the bottom and turn it over and it knocks the chairs and they fall. There is shouting. I don’t care. I pull and scream and push. Maighstir Clyde is in front of me. He is so quick that I do not know what he is doing until he does it. He punches me in the face and I fall to the floor.
My head hurts and there is blood out of my nose.
The bothan spins.
Then nothing.
THE NEXT MORNING, THE HERBISTS AGREE I’M WELL enough to leave. I shove on my boots and run all the way to the Wasps’ creation site. I’ve always been drawn to the place. It’s where they make and repair everything the clan needs, from weapons and clothes to beds and cooking utensils. Of course, right now they’re all busy working on the new boat. I loiter on the outskirts until one of the Wasps calls out to me.
“What is it, boy?” He’s a broad man with ruddy cheeks and grubby fingers. I can’t recall his name.
“Maighstir Ross said I could come,” I say.
“Speak up, I can barely hear you.” Everything he says comes out with a chuckle.
“I’m here to watch,” I say a little louder. “Maighstir Ross said it was okay.”
The Good Hawk Page 2