God's Highlander

by Thompson, E. V.

  The sun was hidden from view behind a thin layer of high cloud, and there was an autumnal chill in the wind blowing across the slopes of the high lands. Wyatt shrugged himself farther inside the turned-up collar of his coat and lengthened his pace. He had an uneasy feeling the day ahead was going to prove difficult.

  Donnie Ross and Seonaid Fraser were coming from a small thatched stone shed when Wyatt approached the Highland cot. Donnie, looking thinner and even younger than when Wyatt had last seen him, was bloodied from fingertips to elbow. Seonaid, noticeably plumper than before, was also spotted with blood.

  When Wyatt expressed consternation, Seonaid explained: ‘One of the cows had trouble calving. I thought we’d lose both cow and calf, but Donnie saved them.’

  Donnie shrugged. ‘I’ve done it before. The cow came from Cameron of Loch Lochy. Most of his animals have the same trouble calving. We’ve two of them at home.’

  ‘He’s just being modest, Minister. Donnie has a way with animals, as he has with all things on a holding. Even the vegetables seem to grow twice as fast for him. Me and Donnie can make a go of things here, I know we can.’

  Donnie Ross was embarrassed by Seonaid’s praise. Extending his bloody arms, he said: ‘I’ll go and wash this off. I’ll bring some water in the bucket for you, Seonaid.’

  She nodded, and Donnie Ross made his way to the stream that ran close beside the grave of Seonaid’s mother.

  ‘You once told me you wanted more out of life than you’d find in the Highlands.’

  Seonaid peered down at her bare and dirty feet. ‘That was before I got to know Donnie better. He wants to marry me. He’s really very kind, Minister. I’ve decided I will marry him.’

  ‘What about the child you’re carrying? Garrett’s child, if rumour and my own eyes are to be believed.’

  ‘Donnie knows about the baby – but there’s no reason to believe it’s Garrett’s. It’s just as likely to be Donnie’s.’ Seonaid spoke defiantly, as though expecting Wyatt to argue with her.

  Instead Wyatt asked: ‘What does your father think of you wanting to marry a Ross?’

  Wyatt was looking towards the stream, to where Donnie Ross had finished washing off his arms. Skimming the excess water from his skin with the heel of each hand, he filled a wooden bucket with water and began climbing back up the hill towards the cot.

  ‘My father won’t speak to Donnie. Won’t even allow him to sleep in the house. It’ll be different when we’re married – and we will be married. I’ve told Father about the baby. If he tries to stop me marrying Donnie, I’ll refuse to name the child’s father. Then I’ll be sent to prison and he’ll starve to death left here on his own.’

  ‘If I’m to marry you, I’ll need to speak to him, Seonaid – if that’s really what you want.’

  Seonaid Fraser said nothing until Donnie Ross was almost within hearing, then she nodded. ‘I want you to marry us. You’ll find my father in the cot, lying on his bed, sulking. That’s how he spends most of the day since we had words. If he starts any of his nonsense, you can remind him of what I’ve just said.’

  Advancing to meet Donnie, Seonaid Fraser took the bucket from him. As she carried it inside the house, she called: ‘I won’t be long, but I need to change out of this dress and wash it before the blood dries. You speak with Donnie, Minister Jamieson. He’ll tell you when we’d like the wedding to be.’

  Donnie Ross seemed unable to find words to talk about anything once Seonaid had disappeared from view inside the cot.

  ‘You were supposed to be telling me when you and Seonaid would like me to marry you,’ Wyatt prompted, after a long silence.

  ‘As soon as you can…. This week?’

  Wyatt smiled. ‘You’ll need to wait at least a month, Donnie. We’ll read the banns from the pulpit on the next three Sundays. But, first, I’ll need to talk to Hamish Fraser and your father.’

  Donnie Ross stiffened. ‘Pa doesn’t want me to marry – but he won’t stop me. I’ll marry Seonaid by declaration if I have to.’

  ‘Marriage by declaration’, a formal statement made before witnesses, was valid in Scottish law, but it was a custom that was frowned upon among traditional Highlanders. Many families felt deeply ashamed if their offspring were not ‘decently’ married, in a church.

  ‘I doubt if that will be necessary, Donnie. Your father’s only thinking of you – and you are both very young.’

  ‘Age has nothing to do with it. I’ve wanted Seonaid to marry me for as long as I can remember. Anyway….’ Donnie dropped his gaze to the ground at his feet. ‘We must be married as soon as possible. There’s a baby to think of now.’ Donnie looked up at Wyatt, and the simple honesty of the young man was almost painful to see. ‘I do love her very much, Minister Jamieson.’

  Wyatt put a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. ‘I know you do, Donnie. I believe Seonaid is very fond of you, too. Don’t worry; things will work out, I promise you.’

  Walking beside the prospective bridegroom on the way to the Ross croft, Wyatt hoped he had not made a rash promise.

  It had not been difficult to obtain Hamish Fraser’s agreement to the wedding. Lying on a feather-filled mattress in the darkness of the cot, Seonaid’s father told the Eskaig minister his daughter could do whatever she wished, adding: ‘She will anyway.’

  He wanted to know nothing of the wedding plans, neither would he attend the Eskaig church. The two young people would have his grudging consent to wed, but they would not enter into married life with his blessing.

  Wyatt anticipated even stronger opposition to the proposed union from Eneas Ross.

  The head of the Ross family was seated on a stool inside the doorway of his cot. He had been watching the approach of his youngest son and the Eskaig preacher for many minutes.

  Mairi had seen them, too, and ran to meet them before they reached the house. Greeting Wyatt with a warm smile, Mairi gave her young brother a hug and a kiss that left him in no doubt where her sympathies lay.

  ‘Is all the family at home?’ Donnie asked the question anxiously.

  ‘They’re all about somewhere. Pa sent Tibbie to find them all when he first saw you coming.’

  ‘Does he need their support against me?’ Donnie asked bitterly.

  ‘You know Pa better than that.’ Mairi linked her arm with his and took his hand, squeezing it affectionately. ‘He doesn’t need anyone’s support once he’s made up his mind about something. I think he’s sent for them in the hope they’ll be able to change your mind about Seonaid. He is upset, you know. He really does believe you’re doing the wrong thing.’

  ‘He won’t change my mind.’ Donnie spoke fiercely to hide the hurt he felt at his father’s opposition. ‘I intend to marry Seonaid.’

  ‘I know that. So does Ma. And Dugald and Stewart. I don’t want you to marry Seonaid; I don’t think she’s good enough for you – but I’d probably think that about anyone you wanted to marry. It’s your decision, and you’re my brother. I’ll stand by you.’

  ‘So it’s to be Ma and her four youngest against Pa and the rest of the family?’

  ‘I suspect you’ve also got Wyatt on your side.’ Mairi looked past her brother to where Wyatt walked beside them in silence. ‘The odds could be far worse.’

  ‘I hope your father will look upon me as an impartial third party,’ said Wyatt. ‘If he believes anything else, we’re not likely to get anywhere with him.’

  ‘You can stop right there, young Donnie.’ The powerful voice of Eneas Ross halted them at the gate. ‘You can come in, Minister. I’ll have you in the house, too, Mairi. But Donnie knows he’s not welcome in my house while he’s living under the roof of Hamish Fraser.’

  ‘Eneas! He’s your own son. Our son. You have no right to turn him away when he’s come to see you – and with the minister, too!’ Magdalene Ross came to the doorway, the apron she was wearing twisted into a tight knot in her hands.

  ‘Don’t tell me what rights I have in my own house, woman. If you want to greet him,
I’ll not stop you – but you’ll do it outside. As for Donnie bringing the preacher to the house … you know why, the same as I do.’

  Magdalene left the house and ran to where Donnie, Mairi and Wyatt stood. Gathering her son in her arms and giving him a kiss, she said: ‘You’re thin. You should stop this foolishness. Come home to let me feed you again.’

  ‘I’m eating as well as I ever have, Ma. As for coming home … I’ll do it willingly when I can bring Seonaid here, too.’

  ‘You’ll not bring the Fraser girl to this house, Donnie Ross,’ said Eneas Ross. ‘Words of welcome would turn to bile in my mouth if I tried to speak them.’

  ‘Can we talk about this calmly and reasonably, Eneas?’ Wyatt decided it was time he intervened between father and son. ‘Donnie and Seonaid have asked me to marry them. In view of Donnie’s age I’d like your consent.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll not have a son of mine marrying a daughter of Hamish Fraser.’

  ‘Then, you’ll have to live with the knowledge that you’re responsible for sending me to prison. I doubt if Hamish Fraser would do such a thing.’ The angry words came from Donnie.

  As Magdalene Ross let out a wail of anguish, Eneas Ross said sharply: ‘Prison? What are you talking about, boy? Why should you of all people go to prison?’

  ‘You know how severe the bastardy laws are. If I can’t marry Seonaid and support the child she’s having, I’ll go to prison.’

  Eneas Ross leaped to his feet. ‘Seonaid Fraser’s having a bastard? Your bastard?’

  There was a sound from behind Wyatt. When he looked round he saw that most of Donnie’s brothers and Tibbie had returned to the cot.

  ‘Garrett’s bastard, more likely.’ The speaker was Ian, the eldest of the Ross brothers.

  Donnie rounded on his brother, and his mother caught his arm, fearing brother would strike brother.

  ‘You had no call to say that, Ian.’ Donnie sounded more hurt than angry. ‘You wouldn’t like anyone to say such a thing about Tibbie.’

  ‘Tibbie’s never given me or anyone else cause,’ retorted Ian Ross. ‘Rumours have never stopped about Seonaid and Garrett – yes, and other men before him.’

  Donnie looked bewildered and hurt, and Wyatt stepped in quickly. ‘Such foolish talk is getting no one anywhere. From what I hear, the girl has been more sinned against than sinner. I’ve spoken to both Seonaid and Donnie at some length. I’m satisfied they know what they’re doing. What’s more, I’m convinced they love each other, too.’

  ‘Love? What nonsense is this you’re talking, Preacher? When it comes to taking a wife there’s far more than love involved. A man must take his family’s wishes into consideration and think how his wife will get along with them.’

  ‘Did you think of all these things when you married Magdalene? A Spanish Catholic in the Highlands of Scotland? Did you make certain your family would approve before you decided to take her for your wife?’

  Wyatt asked the question quietly, but it was heard by every member of the Ross family and they fell silent as they waited for Eneas to answer. None awaited his reply with more interest than Magdalene.

  ‘That was different,’ Eneas said after a couple of false beginnings.

  ‘Was it? I, too, was in the Army, Eneas. I know what’s said about girls who marry soldiers on a campaign march. Are you telling me you didn’t trust your own judgement – just as Donnie is?’

  ‘If you weren’t a man of God, you’d regret speaking of Magdalene and Seonaid Fraser in the same breath, Preacher Jamieson.’

  ‘I’m saying nothing against Magdalene, Eneas – and I wouldn’t. There’s not a man I know who has a better wife. All I’m saying is that Donnie is your son – yours and Magdalene’s. Trust him; he’s a sound, sensible young man.’

  ‘He’s a boy … hardly more than a child.’ Eneas glared at his son, uncomfortably aware of his wife’s eyes on him.

  ‘You were a year younger than me when you joined the Army, Pa. You’ve told me so many times.’ Donnie hesitated. ‘I want to go into marriage with your blessing, Pa. Yours and Ma’s.’

  ‘You’ll never get my blessing to a marriage with Hamish Fraser’s child. Nor will she ever set foot inside this cot again. I can’t speak for your mother, and I won’t try.’

  ‘Does Donnie have your permission to marry?’ For Donnie’s sake Wyatt wanted to hear Eneas Ross say the words.

  ‘He can do whatever he pleases. You’ve been telling me how much of a man he is. Very well, I’ll not interfere in his life again. He must go his own way now.’

  ‘Pa!’ Donnie took a step towards his father, but Eneas Ross turned away and walked inside his cot without another look at his youngest son.

  Twenty-six

  DONNIE ROSS AND Seonaid were married in the little Eskaig church four weeks after Eneas Ross turned his back on his youngest son.

  Donnie Ross arrived at the church looking self-consciously resplendent in a new kilt and plaid, preceded by a piper and flanked by two of his brothers, Dugald and Stewart.

  The church was well filled by villagers. Many of the older women had attended every wedding conducted in the Eskaig church during their long lifetime. They would not miss this, the most talked-about ceremony for very many years.

  When the three young Ross boys entered the church, Donnie looked eagerly among the congregation, hoping other members of his family might have had a last-minute change of heart. None was there, and the watching villagers did not miss the fleeting expression of unhappiness that touched his honest young face.

  Donnie and his brothers were not kept waiting long. There was a stir in the church as Seonaid arrived. She was accompanied by Mairi, who had set aside her misgivings about the marriage for the sake of her younger brother.

  As the two Highland girls walked down the aisle towards the waiting bridegroom there were nudges, smirks and many knowing looks among the congregation. Seonaid’s dress, newly made for the wedding, could not hide the swelling of her body about the waist.

  If Seonaid was aware of the unkind interest being taken in her figure, she did not allow it to spoil the occasion. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the spot where Donnie waited at the front of the church. His nerves and curiosity overtook him, and he turned once to check on her progress. When he saw his bride, Donnie gave her a smile that Wyatt later swore would have lit up the darkest kirk.

  Seonaid reached Donnie’s side, and the bride and groom walked forward together. When they stood before Wyatt the ceremony began.

  A great stillness fell upon the congregation when Wyatt called for any man to come forward if he could show just cause why the young couple might not be joined together in matrimony.

  It was rumoured that John Garrett had returned late the previous evening, travelling from Glasgow, as he had once before, on board a Scandinavian ship bound for the Caledonian Canal.

  Wyatt’s call to the congregation passed without a response, and a sigh went through the crowded church that might, spitefully, have been interpreted as disappointment. The moment soon passed.

  Donnie’s responses were made in a strong clear voice. After a surprisingly faltering start, Seonaid’s responses gained in strength until they matched those of her bridegroom.

  When Wyatt pronounced the young couple ‘man and wife’ in the sight of God and the Eskaig community, there was not a man or woman present who did not respond with a fervent ‘Amen’ on their behalf.

  Outside the church a reception party was waiting. Salutes were fired over the young couple from guns that had survived the ban placed upon them after Culloden. When Donnie and Seonaid emerged from the clouds of black powder-smoke rolling across the church path they were met by a fiddler. The musician led the way to the schoolhouse, which had been suitably bedecked for the celebrations that were to follow.

  In the grounds of the school three fires were burning. Over each a whole sheep was being turned on a spit. As fat from the animals dripped on slow-burning peat fires, yellow flame
s leaped about the slowly rotating carcasses and a mouth-watering aroma filled the air.

  Soon lines of excited villagers formed a large square, and Donnie and Seonaid led the dancers in a wild reel that thumbed its nose at Seonaid’s condition. The dances were fast and furious. A few perspiring dancers attributed this to the fact that the fiddler, a Corpach man, was being paid at the rate of a penny a dance – plus as much whisky as he could drink.

  It was a celebration that would continue until well into the night. Indeed, once darkness fell and the mutton was carved and distributed, the celebrations grew in intensity. By now the fiddle-player was flagging in spite of the incentive to keep playing, and pipers were brought in to take his place.

  When more whisky was brought up it became noticeable that more men and fewer women were taking part in the dancing now.

  When many of the older girls and boys began to wander off hand in hand together into the darkness, Wyatt felt it advisable to lock the doors of his kirk. The young couples might otherwise be inclined to take advantage of the shelter afforded by the church against the night wind.

  On the road outside the school he met a horseman sitting in his saddle, watching the festivities from a distance. Wyatt could make out no more than the outline of the man, but he said: ‘Come and join the celebrations. There’s food and drink for one more.’

  A startled white face was turned towards Wyatt, and a voice that was the last he would have wished to hear tonight exclaimed: ‘Eh? Oh, it’s you, Jamieson. What’s going on? The music and drunken singing can be heard four miles away, at Corpach.’

  ‘It’s a wedding, Factor. Two young people have been married today. The villagers are celebrating in true Highland fashion.’

  Wyatt hoped John Garrett would accept the explanation without demanding further details, but the factor was not a man to take half-statements without question.

  ‘Who’s been married? If it’s a Kilmalie tenant, it’s usual for me to be informed.’