by Alisa Adams
Their swords and daggers had also been skillfully wrought by the same maker as that of Lachlan and Shona's betrothal ones, although these were much more functional.
Iain, testing them with some thrusts and parrying of his own, smiled with envy.
"Perfect balance and lightness!" he said, admiring them. "And perfect sharpness too!" He sucked his thumb, on which he had just tested the blade. "I know not what you are going to do with them, young men, but good luck!"
Donald and Dougall looked at each other. They were growing up, mischievous, and beginning to be interested in courting. A big horse and fancy weapons could give a lad a lot of status – but you couldn't live on it forever, as Dougall said to his brother one night just before they retired.
They were sitting around the fire and becoming slightly drunk on ale and drowsy with the heat.
"D'ye think we could go an' fight fer the Wallace against the English?" Dougall mused aloud ."We've got the swords an' the bows an' all the knowledge noo. We hae muckle great horses an' all. We hae been taught well – by a woman an' all!"
They laughed uproariously at this. By a woman!
"Better no’ tell onybody!" Donald nudged his brother in the ribs and got a cuff around the ear for his pains. He fell on the floor and lay there for a moment, still laughing.
Presently, something occurred to him.
"The Wallace?" Donald asked. "Why no' the Bruce?"
Dougall yawned.
"Cannae remember," he replied, his words falling all over each other.
Donald, whose head for liquor seemed to be a little better, hauled him to his feet and led him to bed.
"Ye're an eejit, Dougall," he said affectionately. "But I'm still glad ye're my brither!"
He deposited his brother like a sack of potatoes on his pallet and curled up beside him. At least brothers kept you warm!
Mairi was thinking of the life she'd had a year earlier before Gregor, Alexa, Graham, and Moira had come into it. She felt a great sadness every time she thought of Donella, but the worst of the anger seemed to have gone, and now there was Davie. She had never in her wildest dreams thought that love could ever come into her life – not the love between a man and a woman anyway.
Little Sam was asleep in her arms and stirred as her brothers came in, but he did not wake up. Since he had been at Castle Drummond, not a hand had been laid on him in anger, and he was a different child. He no longer flinched when anyone touched him and he smiled a wide, gray-eyed smile most of the time.
He would always bear the scars of his brutal beatings, but his memories of them had already begun to fade. He had begun to show an interest in horses, and Alexa was thinking about a Shetland pony for his fourth birthday.
Rose and Ellie, the two others, were definitely built for domestic work. They loved to potter about in the kitchen all day making bannocks and stews, learning to poach fish, harvest eggs and milk the goats. They could both cook a passable breakfast of porridge, scrambled eggs with bannocks and even oatcakes, of which they were very proud indeed.
Cook was teaching them scones, and the first day they were produced the laird pronounced them 'light and delicious', which sent them into a frenzy of giggling delight.
The family was thriving, and Alexa looked on with delight, although their future was still far from settled.
Nanny Joan still took a great interest in the little ones, especially Sam, who loved her to distraction. The feeling was entirely mutual, and Alexa could do nothing about it, even if she had wanted to.
Sam was secure, and Alexa knew that if that stability were threatened, he would go back to being the same flinching little person he had been before, rejected twice, never safe anywhere.
Still, she thought, God has a habit of taking care of these things.
Maybe she should just leave it in His hands, and perhaps that would be the best course of action.
The betrothal of Davie and Mairi was ten days away, and Alexa had lent them a cozy parlor where they could be alone for a few hours. They lay together on a chaise longue enjoying the heat of the fire and saying little. Davie's arms were around her and Mairi had never been so contented.
"I am a wee bit afraid," she confessed.
"Why, my sweetheart?" he asked anxiously, leaning on one elbow to look at her.
"In case I cannae – ye knaw – satisfy ye." She buried her face in his chest. "My paw an' mammy—"
"Were naethin' like us, hen," he reassured her, stroking her cheek with his thumb as she wept. "I should be worryin' aboot that onyway! If we are no’ perfect, at first, we will get better. Dinnae fash yersel.' I will be patient an' you will be patient. Love is aye patient."
"Davie, I didnae knaw ye had sich a way wi' words!" She sighed, then tightened her arms around him.
"Whit if there are nae bairns?" she asked suddenly.
This time it was his turn to sigh.
"Wummin," he said in exasperation, "can ye no' think o' ony mair things tae worry aboot? Let us worry aboot bairns efter a wee while. It willnae dae us ony harm tae dae withoot them for a time."
Then he hugged her.
"Daft lassie – gies a kiss!"
And she did.
And then another, and another, and another till they were both breathless.
Columba had asked to be taken to the fortress – or what was left of it – and he smelt its evil as soon as he went in, a rank odor like rotten flesh. The further he went into the tunnel the stronger it became, and his respect for the Sutherland children increased as he wondered how they could have survived the horror of this benighted, festering place.
Left to itself, the house had begun to decay – because nobody would occupy it no matter how many times it had been blessed and exorcized. An attempt had been made to set it on fire, but even that had failed.
"The Devil haunts this place." Columba was clutching the big wooden cross he always carried, and now he touched it to each wall and the ground.
"The best I can do," he said sadly. "Not enough, but mayhap 'twill make Mairi feel better."
"I hope so," Gregor murmured. "She deserves it."
* * *
Thunderstorms are very rare in Scotland, especially in the Highlands and especially in winter, so when an enormous one rolled out of the ocean that night, it was seen as an omen of disaster, till it was discovered that a great lightning bolt had struck every building on the Sutherland stronghold and blasted it to pieces.
Satan's Lair was no more.
Mairi and Davie's betrothal ceremony was almost upon them, and Columba could not have been happier. There was nothing he loved more than promising two young lovers to each other and knowing Mairi's history had made it more precious still. The thunderbolt had come like a blessing from God himself.
The guests, Alexa, Graham, Lorraine, Gregor, Iain, Moira, all the Elliotts, and all the Sutherlands were there in their best finery. As far as the future bride was concerned, though, they might not have been there at all – she and Davie were the only ones who mattered.
When Mairi emerged from the castle in her simple cream dress with her hair plaited into a wreath to be betrothed, her face was shining. She looked like a sunbeam.
Davie looked as though he had just received a priceless gift, which indeed he had, as he promised to wed Mairi, his most wonderful and precious love, on the date they had promised.
She promised the same to her handsome and benevolent protector, her one true love, on their wedding day two weeks hence. Then there was merriment and feasting, with enough celebration to last till the stars came out.
And all the little Sutherlands who had never had a present or a sweetmeat in their lives were showered in them. It truly was a blessed day, and the wedding was still to come.
Mairi could hardly wait.
32
Gregor's Decision
Ever since his experience at the Sutherland stronghold, Gregor's resolution had been hardening. He loved his country. He loved everything about it, and it hurt his heart to
think of leaving it, but he knew he had to. Columba, the little monk with the most incredible memory he had ever experienced, had changed his life.
He had to follow that store of knowledge and learning no matter where it went, even if it meant across the world, because he needed to learn too, and he would. He needed to find out about so many things – about God, philosophy, people, the world. His experience was so limited and his mind so empty. He knew he could never become a priest, but he could become a pilgrim.
He knew now that his betrothal to Lorraine had ended because of this unfulfilled need which he had felt but been unable to express till now. Now Columba had shown him the way, and he was ready to follow it. But there was still a marriage to perform, so he needed to wait two more weeks, and he had to prepare.
* * *
His father was devastated.
"But you can't do this!" he raged when Gregor told him about his intentions. "You are my heir!"
"But I am doing it, Father," Gregor said, as gently as he could. "I have brothers to whom you could leave the estate, but I have to do this. All my life I have been searching. I thought I wanted to travel the world, and that would be a great adventure, but until now I never realized how little I knew about anything. I want to travel in here." He tapped his head. "But I didn't know till Columba came."
His father stood up and thumped his fist on his desk hard enough to make Gregor jump.
"That damn monk!" he fumed. "As soon as I saw him, I knew there was going to be trouble! Tell him to come and see me!"
"No," Gregor replied calmly. "If you want to speak to him, come and see him yourself."
For a moment, Laird Carmichael stood looking at his normally dutiful and obedient son in total disbelief, then he backhanded him across the face with all the force he could muster.
Gregor staggered backward but did not fall.
"Get out of my sight and don't come back!" the laird raged. "Until you can tell me that this evil nonsense has left your head!"
Gregor bowed, turned, then opened the door and went out.
He could not stop shaking for half an hour afterward. He went up to the chapel and encountered Columba there counting his rosary beads. The quiet peace, stillness, and tranquility that seemed to seep into his very bones soothed Gregor at once.
He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and inhaled deeply. In spite of his father, and in spite of the trials he knew would soon be ahead of him, he was happy.
When he heard Columba saying his name, he opened his eyes, realizing for the first time that he had been in a reverie.
Columba was bending over him.
"You are awake," he observed. "I thought you were smiling in your sleep."
"I was thinking," Gregor murmured, sitting up and pushing his hair back.
Columba waited. He had a feeling that he was about to hear the announcement of a momentous decision.
Gregor sighed and began to talk.
"Ever since you came here, you have made me think – indeed you have forced me to. Before they all wanted to marry me off to some wonderful laird's or baron's daughter, but I knew it would never fill the emptiness inside me.
"I wanted to go to sea, see faraway places and strange people, but somehow that was not enough either. Columba – I want to learn. I want you to teach me everything that is in that awesome mind of yours because I have never experienced anything like it."
He paused for a moment, looking at his mentor in confusion. "Do you understand?"
Columba nodded slowly, but his expression was one of concern.
"Do you want to become a priest?" he asked, frowning.
"No, Father. Only a pilgrim."
There was silence between them for a long time.
"It is a very hard road to travel, you know, Gregor?"
"I do," Gregor replied sadly. "My father is already furious with me."
"He has the right to be. He is worried about your physical body, but God is more concerned with your soul."
Gregor felt as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders.
"I was going to wait till after the wedding to tell you," Gregor added, smiling, "but I am glad I did it now."
Columba clapped him on the back.
"Do you think God would permit me a little more watered wine?" he asked cautiously.
"It was good enough for Jesus, Father, was it not?"
And they left the chapel, laughing.
Downstairs, the children had already gathered waiting for one of Columba's magical stories, and Alexa thought it was a bit gruesome in parts, but the children loved them.
Alexa came forward to meet them.
"Gregor!" She smiled. "I have never seen you looking happier!"
He took her hand in his.
"You and I were both restless spirits, Alexa Montgomery." He gave her a mischievous smile. "And thought we could cure our restlessness by throwing our demons together so that they killed each other. But I have found a better way."
"Tell me," she said, curious.
"I am going on a pilgrimage," he said matter-of-factly. "To the Holy Land and Rome with Columba."
He waited for her shocked reaction, but it never came.
"You know, as soon as I saw this little monk, I knew he was special!" Alexa said, laughing at Columba. "And now I know why. So you have given up on the prospect of marrying me? Or Lorraine? Or any noblewomen around here who could bear you lusty sons?"
Gregor nodded.
"It's a long way though," he pointed out. "I could still change my mind."
"Indeed." She cocked her head to one side to look at him. "But you won't. You will stay steady on your course – I know you."
"We were just going to have a glass of wine," Gregor informed her, "to celebrate. Will you join us?"
"Father?" Alexa raised her brows. "Wine?"
Columba laughed.
"The sins of the flesh!" he replied dramatically, pointing to the sky. "I think He will permit me one today of all days."
They went into the castle, where Alexa poured them all a glass each, diluting Columba's with half a glass of water.
Just then, Moira came in. She was very big now and had got to the waddling stage of her pregnancy. She looked at them all piteously.
"Can one of you not take this creation of God off me and carry it for a day?" she asked plaintively before sitting down with a massive sigh of relief.
Alexa poured her a glass of wine.
"Poor love," Alexa sympathized. "I wish I could."
"One of these days it will be your turn," Moira said grimly.
"Not if I can help it!" Alexa laughed.
"Shall we travel wi' them?" Dougall asked Donald. "An' gie them protection fer a while? It willnae dae them much good if they are gauin' tae the Holy Land an' cannae get past Perth!"
They were sitting, as had become their custom on dry nights, by the open fire in the courtyard. The day had been spent on the martial arts as usual, but both of them, now seventeen years old, were itching to be off to find adventure.
Donald stared thoughtfully into the fire, thinking of all the things he would be losing.
"It will be hard, brither," he said wistfully.
"Changed yer mind?" Dougall asked, not without a trace of scorn. "Leave oor land in the hauns o' the English?"
Donald shook his head, then slapped Dougall's knee.
"Naw," he answered, "too much ale. An' I will miss the bairns. Whit's gaunnae happen tae them, Dougie?"
"Alexa Montgomery will happen tae them, brither!" Dougall laughed. "They hae fine futures, but they are wee lassies. Alexa will pick them fine husbands, but we are men now, an' must make oor own futures. Mine is wi' the Wallace. Where is yers?"
Donald looked at the challenge in his brother's eyes.
"Aye," he said, grinning. "Think I will join ye!"
33
Weddings and Other Matters
The wedding of Mairi and Davie was just as simple as the betrothal. Mairi wore a simple pale blue dre
ss which Lorraine had made for her. It had a round neckline embroidered with stars, but they did not outshine the ones in her eyes as she stepped forward to meet her husband.
Davie was wearing his best snow white shirt with his family's tartan plaid over his shoulder and wrapped around his hips.
Columba joined both their hands with a strip of silk, then began the vows.
"Do you, Mairi Sutherland, take David Elliott here present to be your wedded husband under God to revere with your body and soul as long as you both shall live and love?"
"I do," Mairi said shyly.
He turned to Davie.
"And do you, David Elliott, take this woman, Mairi Sutherland, here present to be your wedded wife, under God to protect her with your body and heart as long as you both shall live and love?"
"I do," Davie replied, with his hand on his heart.
"Then, Davie and Mairi, I declare that you are joined together as husband and wife in the presence of God, and may he watch over you forever and ever, Amen."
Then Columba spread his arms wide, grinning.
"Behold! Mr. and Mistress Elliott!"
There was an almighty cheer as the bridal couple was surrounded at once by a throng of ecstatic well-wishers. Every single guard, lady’s maid, cook, scullery maid, groom, and the servants' children – even the youngest – were there.
So Mairi Sutherland, the abused daughter of an outlaw, was now Mairi Elliott, the respectable wife of a decent, hardworking man. She would never have a life of luxury, but she would have a life of peace.
The betrothal had been a festive, merry event, and the wedding was too, but all Davie could think about was being alone with his precious new love.