Just Beyond Tomorrow

by Bertrice Small

  “To the devil for all I care!” the old man snapped. “I’ll nae hae the occasion of my death an excuse for my sons to quarrel wi’ one another over a matter that is my right to settle, and which I hae already determined.” He fell back against his pillows, and began to cough once more as he had earlier.

  Flanna brought the cup of whiskey to his lips again, and the racking cough was eased and died away. She glared at her brothers. Her look was very plain, and she was suddenly almost a stranger to them. They remembered a stubborn girl so much younger than they that she had seemed more one of their bairns and not their sibling. This, however, was a woman of wealth, power, and obvious authority. The five younger sons of Lachlann Brodie shuffled their feet almost in unison.

  “Well?” Flanna demanded of them. “Is our sire to go to his grave discontent? ’Tis my recollection that a discontent spirit haunts those who caused his going to be an unhappy experience.” She glowered at them, and the look was so like Lachlann Brodie’s that they shivered as it touched them.

  Callum Brodie quickly took up his eldest brother’s hand to kiss his ring of clan authority. “I, Callum Brodie, secondborn son of Lachlann Brodie, laird of Killiecairn, accept his dying will and take for my new laird, my brother, Aulay, firstborn son of our sire,” he declared. Callum was followed by his four younger siblings, who each swore the oath of loyalty to their eldest brother. And as they finished, they turned and departed the bedchamber, even as their wives, and their children, and grandchildren came forth to give their oath to the new Brodie of Killiecairn and to bid farewell to the old patriarch of their clan. Finally it was finished. Only Aulay and Flanna remained in the room with Lachlann Brodie.

  The new laird turned to his sister. “Thank ye,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked him. “I only did what needed to be done so our sire might die at peace, brother.”

  “Ye put the might of Glenkirk behind me, Flanna,” he said, a small smile causing the corners of his mouth to twitch. “Did ye really hae yer man’s permission to speak for him?”

  “I would hae had I thought to ask before we left this morning,” she said, smiling. “By saying I did, I saved ye a good deal of difficulty, Aulay, and Da can pass into the next world content that Killiecairn will continue as he wished it. Our brother, Callum, has always coveted yer place. Ye’re but ten months apart in age. For whatever reason, Callum has always felt cheated, and he has never cared who knew it. Now, if ye’re to keep the peace here, ye must win him to yer side lest he cause trouble. The others can be led, but Callum is difficult. Watch him, and watch his sons, carefully.”

  “Ye’ve grown suddenly wise, little sister,” he told her. And the truth of it was that she had surprised him with her shrewd analysis. Her swift words had turned the tide and made a hard situation easier.

  “I’m learning to be a Duchess of Glenkirk, Aulay. The women who hae come before me were nae sit-by-the-fire mates to their husbands. I must make my mark so that I stand equal to them, so that a hundred years from now when my descendants see my portrait in the gallery at Glenkirk, I am remembered well, and the family of my birth is honored, too.”

  “And just how will ye do that?” he asked her.

  “This is nae the time,” she told him, and it was said with such authority that he did not question her further. “Stay wi’ Da for a bit while I seek some food, for I hae nae eaten since this morning. When I am refreshed, I will sit the night wi’ him. ’Tis my duty, for he saw me into this world. So I will see him out of it,” Flanna told her brother.

  “Go on, then,” he said, and she left the room.

  Lachlann Brodie opened his eyes. “She is like her mam,” he said quietly. “She has the Gordon breeding.”

  “And the Brodie strength,” Aulay replied.

  “The Gordons of Brae are strong stock as well,” Lachlann said. “Ye owe her now, ye know. She did ye a great service this day.”

  “Aye, I know,” Aulay said. “I would hae never thought to be in my wee sister’s debt one day, but it would seem I am, Da.”

  The old man cackled. “She be a clever lass. Glenkirk will hae met his match in our Flanna. Does he care for her?”

  Aulay snorted with laughter. “He be a fool over her, Da. He’s mad wi’ love for her, and she for him. There’ll be bairns soon enough from those two, or I miss my guess.”

  “Good. Good,” Lachlann Brodie said, hugging his secret to himself and closing his eyes. “I’ll rest a bit now,” he said.

  Flanna had gone down into the hall where the Brodies were now assembled eating. She walked directly up to the high board where her brothers and their wives sat. Una Brodie immediately arose and snapped at the others, “Make a place for yer sister, the Duchess of Glenkirk, ye ill-bred knaves!”

  Flanna sat down next to her foster mother. Her brother Callum was on her right.

  “Ye’ve become verra grand, Flanna Brodie,” he said sourly.

  “Flanna Leslie,” she corrected him quietly. “Did ye expect me to remain a hoyden forever, brother? If ye could but see the portraits in the gallery at Glenkirk of my predecessors, perhaps ye would understand better. I would make my husband proud.”

  “And will he be haeing a portrait done of ye?” her sister-in-law Ailis sneered. “ ’Twill nae be easy painting yer flaming pate.” And then she giggled nastily.

  “If I had scant hair the color of mouse dung, Ailis, I’d be jealous, too,” Flanna answered sweetly. “The first Earl of Glenkirk had a daughter wi’ hair the same color as mine. Her portrait hangs in the Great Hall of my castle. They say I am even more beautiful than she was, but I try nae to listen to such flattery.” She picked up the small joint that Una slapped upon her plate and began to tear the meat from it with her small white teeth.

  Ailis began to sputter with her anger, but her husband snarled at her, “Shut yer mouth, woman!” Ailis grew silent, but her hazel eyes shot daggers at Flanna, who seemed not to notice at all.

  Una chuckled softly, not displeased at all to see Ailis put down so firmly. Callum’s wife, like her jealous husband, was a troublesome woman. Her brother-in-law may have promised to support his eldest brother as the new laird, but Una knew he was not content with the situation. Still, Callum had no real choice in the matter when it came right down to it. Unless he was bold enough to attempt to divide loyalties among the Brodie clansmen.

  “Killiecairn is too small now for all of ye,” Flanna said softly. “Until I left here I dinna realize it. Some will hae to go, Una, before ye kill each other.” She tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf and buttered it with her thumb.

  “The Brodies seem to breed well, and quickly. There are two new bairns since I left, and at least three new bellies.”

  Una nodded. “Something must be done,” she agreed, “but we’ll manage somehow as we always hae. Aulay said ye ran off to Perth.”

  “I saw the king, Una! I met him, and I even spoke wi’ him. I saw him crowned. Patrick came after me. He is verra jealous, and he doesna like the Stuarts, but for his brother, Charlie. Patrick says they bring bad fortune to the Leslies of Glenkirk.”

  “And ye disagree,” Una observed wisely with a knowing smile.

  “ ’Tis some silliness put into Patrick’s head by his mother, Duchess Jasmine, before she departed Glenkirk.”

  “Her husband died at Dunbar, and nae one could ever say that Jemmie Leslie was a political man,” Una noted. “If I were she, I would be bitter, too.”

  “I’m going to raise a levy for the king,” Flanna confided to her sister-in-law. “He needs an army to take back what Cromwell and his ilk stole from him.”

  “Lassie, lassie,” her sister-in-law said, “are ye mad? Hae we nae had enough of wars in Scotland? Are nae the English in our dear Edinburgh and likely to remain there? Scotland has crowned this Stuart. Let it be enough for him! Let him get married and breed up a new generation of princes for us, instead of seeking to destroy our sons in some new and futile war.”

  “Ye dinna understand,�
� Flanna said. “If ye had met Charles Stuart and looked into his eyes, ye would see!”

  “Ye’re daft, Flanna Leslie,” Una said. “When we hae buried old Lachlann, ye’re to go home to Glenkirk and wait for yer bairn to be born, and dinna tell me it isna so. I know a breeding lass when I see one, and ye’re breeding.”

  “Dinna say it aloud,” Flanna pleaded. “I hae nae yet told my husband, although Angus saw it. And Da knows; I thought it would please him.”

  “And I’m certain it did,” Una responded with a smile. “Now he can pass content that all is right wi’ his wee world.”

  Chapter 12

  Lachlann Brodie died just after four o’clock in the morning. It was the twenty-fifth of March in the year sixteen hundred and fifty-one. Flanna was sitting by his side, half dozing, when his hand on hers brought her to her senses. His old eyes looked lovingly on her as she could never remember them having done in her entire life. His fingers tightened about hers briefly. He gave her a small smile as he whispered, “Ye’re a good lass, daughter.” Then, the smile remaining upon his lips, he breathed his last.

  She pulled her hand from his even as the other hand went to her mouth to stifle the cry. He had loved her, she realized now, although he had never said the words. Ye’re a good lass, daughter, was the closest he could ever get. His greatest love had been reserved for her mother. Not the woman who had given him six sons nor those who had roused his youthful lust, but Meg Gordon of Brae, who had awakened his heart and quickened the passions of his later life. And she had been the child of that passion. As much as Flanna had missed her mother, she now realized that her father had missed Meg Gordon even more.

  “God speed, Da,” she told him, and then rising, she straightened the bedclothes about him and went to tell her brother, Aulay, and the others that an era had ended.

  By the time the sun began to creep over the mountains, the elder women at Killiecairn had washed the old man’s body and sewn him into his shroud. His sons had gone out with torches even before first light and opened up a grave for Lachlann Brodie between his two deceased wives, Giorsal Airlie and Margaret Gordon. In the kitchens the younger women were busy cooking the funeral feast, and Aulay Brodie’s eldest son had ridden out to bring a minister to Killiecairn to say the final words over Lachlann Brodie.

  As soon as the Presbyterian pastor arrived, the patriarch’s body was put in his grave, the words approved by the kirk spoken over him. To the right of the grave the sons of Giorsal Airlie and Lachlann Brodie stood like so many steps in a row, their weathered faces worn, their red, black, and yellow plaids blowing in the raw March wind. To the left of the grave the daughter of Margaret Gordon and Lachlann Brodie stood alone, a shawl of green Leslie plaid wrapped about her shoulders. She found herself oddly saddened by the old man’s passing.

  He had hardly been a good father to her, yet at the last he had, in his own way, admitted his love for her. It would not make up for all the years of neglect, but it was a good last memory to have. And he had certainly seen that she had made a good marriage, cleverly snapping up an opportunity none of them would have ever imagined would come Flanna Brodie’s way. A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you, Da,” she whispered so softly that none of them even saw her lips moving.

  The grave was filled in by Lachlann Brodie’s seven offspring and his many descendants, each taking a turn shoveling the dirt onto his shroud-wrapped body as the weak spring sun gave way to a gray overcast, and an icy rain began to fall. Her brother Simon was the family piper. When the dirt was finally mounded over the grave, he began to play a traditional Highland lament for a fallen chieftain. The shrill, yet mellowed squeal and screech of the music was strangely comforting to them all, and still playing, Simon led them back to the hall to partake of the feast that had been cooked in Lachlann Brodie’s honor. Afterward they toasted the old man’s memory in the October ale the Brodies were so adept at making each autumn.

  They ate, and they drank. The men danced. They shared their stories and their memories as the day slid into night outside the rain-streaked windows of the little hall. Finally when they had finished retelling of their own misdeeds, they spoke of their sister’s.

  “Willful from the moment she was born,” Aulay said.

  “How would ye know?” Flanna demanded, “and how could an innocent bairn be governed wi’out reason?”

  “I was there, lass,” Aulay said. “I know.”

  “Ye’re daft,” Flanna mocked him.

  “Nay,” Una replied, “he isna. Ye were so determined to come into this world, Flanna Leslie, that ye would nae wait to do it properly. Ye leapt forth from yer mam’s womb feet first when everyone knows a bairn peeks forth politely wi’ its head first, modestly shielding its wee self from prying eyes. But nae ye, lassie! Ye showed us who ye were before we were ready to know. ’Twas a hard birth and why yer mam could never hae any other bairns, nae that yer da minded. Six sons, he said, were enough for him. Yer mam, he said, had given him the most precious giftie of all, a daughter. He carried ye about the hall all wrapped in swaddling clothes, and ye glared at us all wi’ those fiery eyes of yers, nae one bit afraid.”

  “I never heard that tale before,” Flanna said.

  “ ’Twas nae time to tell it until now,” Una replied with perfect logic. “We were all quite jealous of ye at first. Yer brothers were grown men wi’ bairns of their own. There were even granddaughters for Lachlann by then. He had never been particularly excited over them, but ye were different. Whenever yer mam would find ye missing from yer cradle, she would look for yer da, and there ye would be, curled in the crook of his arm while he went about his business.”

  “I never knew that,” Flanna replied. “All I can remember of my childhood was that after Mam died, he seemed nae to care whether I lived or I died. ’Tis all I recall of him.”

  Una nodded. “Aye,” she agreed, “he almost forgot completely about ye in his grief. He mourned her until his own death, I believe. It was harder for him that ye reminded him of yer mam, although ye hae yer da’s silvery eyes and the same look in them when ye grow angry.”

  “I hae my father’s eyes?” Flanna was amazed. No one had ever said that to her before either.

  “Aye,” Una said. “Same color and look.” She laughed. “I can still remember once when ye and Lachlann quarreled over something or other; I dinna even remember what. Ye were nae more than seven or eight. Ye stood toe to toe glaring at one another, and the expression on both of ye was exactly the same.”

  Flanna’s brothers laughed at Una’s tale. They all well remembered the look to which she referred.

  “But he loved ye, lassie, despite his apparent disregard.” Aulay, her eldest brother, broke into his wife’s thoughts. “I thought him mad when he turned down Patrick Leslie’s offer of gold for Brae. I didna see what he saw, but he was right. Ye’re happy, Flanna, even I can see that. Ye’re married to a good man, a wealthy man, a man whose brother is kin to the king himself! Yer son will be the next Duke of Glenkirk, Flanna! A bairn wi’ Brodie blood in his veins! We will profit eventually by this connection, and ’tis due to ye, sister.”

  She took the opportunity offered at that moment. “I hae been to Perth,” she began. “And I hae met the king. I hae his permission to raise a levy of fighting men for him so he may take back all that is his and avenge his own da’s death at the hands of their enemies.”

  The hall grew suddenly very quiet.

  “I knew ye had run away,” Aulay said.

  “I dinna run away!” Flanna replied indignantly. “Patrick’s da, an old man, and obviously a foolish one, went to Dunbar despite his wife’s pleadings. He died in defense of king and country. The Duchess Jasmine was verra angry. She left Glenkirk, went down into England, and from there to France wi’ her youngest child, a daughter. Before she left she told Patrick that the royal Stuarts bring misfortune to the Leslies of Glenkirk. That he was to hae naught to do wi’ them. ’Tis, of course, nonsense, and I dinna believe it for a moment.”
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br />   “But yer husband does,” Aulay said, “and ye are honor bound, sister, to obey his wishes in this matter.”

  “My first loyalty, of all loyalties, should be to our king,” Flanna replied.

  “Yer first loyalty, Lady Leslie, should be to God,” Mr. Dundas, the Presbyterian minister, said. “Ye do hold wi’ the Covenants, do ye nae?”

  “I do,” Flanna responded quickly, and without any hesitation, “and so does the king, sir! I saw him crowned wi’ my brother-in-law, Lord Stuart. He swore wi’ such fervor to the Covenants that even the harshest of his critics wept that morning. It was grand!”

  “And ye met him?” Her brother Ranald sounded skeptical.

  “Before his coronation and afterward,” she bragged.

  “How?” Aulay queried her.

  “He came to the inn where Lord Stuart and I were lodging, and Charlie introduced us. Then, because he knew I must return home quickly, he came after the feasting was over to bid me farewell and thank me for my loyalty. It was then I requested, and received, his permission to raise a levy of men to fight for him,” Flanna told them, not daring to explain in detail her meetings with Charles II. Her brothers would have been, and rightfully so, shocked.

  “Ye were in the king’s presence alone?” Aulay asked her.

  “Of course I was nae!” Flanna said, sounding offended. “What do ye think of me that ye would consider such a possibility? The first time Lord Stuart was wi’ us, and the second, my own husband was there. I am shocked, Aulay, that ye would think me so foolish, or ill-bred, that I would behave like a hoyden before the king and disgrace both of our families.” She pursed her lips and shook her head with her obvious disapproval.

  “I beg yer pardon, sister,” the new laird said.

  “Ye’re forgiven, of course,” she told him with a small smile. “Now, since I am here, I invite any braw lad who seeks to better himself, and perhaps even find his fortune, to join the king’s troops. There will be some looting, but only in the towns that are disloyal to the Stuarts,” Flanna said knowledgeably. “What is there for most of ye here at Killiecairn? Ye hae nae property, for it belongs to Aulay. Ye hae nae cattle or sheep, for they, too, belong to Aulay. Ye live or die at his discretion; and while my brother is a good man, ’tis still he who is laird now at Killiecairn, and when he is gone, his eldest son will be laird. Ye hae nae opportunity to advance yerselves, nor will ye if ye remain here.” She paused, and her gaze swept the hall, her glance touching those of her younger nephews’ and her grandnephews’. “Come now, laddies, when was it said that a Brodie did nae enjoy a good scrap? This family has always been loyal to our kings. There has never been the taint of treason spoken of the Brodies of Killiecairn. They say the war will be short, for the people want their king back and are shamed that they hae murdered the first Charles Stuart, who was their king.”