The Banshee of Castle Muirn

by Sheila Currie

  “I’ll be all right with him. Don’t worry. I’m off now.” Shona hesitated. She could return to the keep and go to her room, collect her embroidery and join her stepmother—the safe thing to do. No, she had to protect her uncle. She promised herself she’d do what she could help Alasdair defeat Connington.

  “Away you go, then. I’ll go see my son,” said Catriona. “I made sure he’d be guarding the main gate.”

  When Shona slipped through the door to the stable, the odour of horseflesh and clean straw greeted her. Fear Mór, the largest horse, tapped a hoof on the floor of his stall. She offered a bit of turnip on the palm of her hand. “Alasdair is going to ride you and keep Myles safe. May he ride you to victory. The silver pennies will go to him and not to Thomas Connington. You’re going to win because you’re the best horse and Alasdair the best man. Do you hear me, great one?” She stroked his nose and patted his neck while he whickered his appreciation and lowered his head to search for more tasty treats. “You protect Alasdair and he will protect Myles.”

  She went to the doorway and saw Catriona and her son talking to the second guard. She should be loyal to her stepmother and Connington for her father’s sake, but she resented them for forcing their way into her life. Although she did nothing wrong in lending the horse, she felt guilty and glad at the same time.

  She selected a thick blanket for Fear Mór, and threw it over his back. He was the tallest horse she had ever seen, but luckily he wasn’t as broad-backed as many of the ponies. The huge Spanish saddle cost more than a score of cows in a country where most people didn’t see a single copper penny in a year. She’d ride out to Alasdair. She glanced at the stable door expecting someone to come in, but no one darkened the doorway. Her belly was flip-flopping like a tumbler at a fair.

  Normally a stable boy would saddle the horse for her, but not today. She tried to lift the saddle onto the horse, but couldn’t. His bridle was tied to a ring set in the stone wall. She swung the saddle over the horse, but her sudden movements startled him and he shied away from the slap of leather. She fell to the floor in a heap of saddle and earasaid. She pushed him to the wall, took a deep breath, and threw the saddle up with all her strength. The horse stood with the saddle on top of him. She rearranged her earasaid around her waist and over her head, and pinned it. Then she tightened the girth, led him out of the stall, and hauled herself aboard. He tolerated her.

  You must ride more often, daughter of Iain Glas.

  She was surprised the stallion communicated with her. Many animals chose not to speak with her at all. "I shall, Fear Mòr." They’d get on well.

  She dug the heels of her soft shoes into the horse’s flanks and he dutifully walked forward, the sound of his hooves clattering on the stone flags. Surely everyone in the castle would be alerted. She bent over to clear the doorway, and spotted the maid coming out of the kitchen. Shona dug in her heels again. The horse shambled along.

  Are you sure you want to speed along, daughter of Iain Glas?

  “Quite sure, Fear Mòr.” Horse and rider trotted toward the gate. Catriona waved. The guard dove into the guardhouse as if he were in mortal danger. Very funny. Sitting as straight as possible, Shona rode out of the gate.

  “Oh, aren’t you wicked!” Catriona laughed behind her.

  With the wind whipping out her earasaid like a sail, she galloped past the marshes to the sand of the Traigh Bhàn, guilt dropping from her as she rode.

  She slowed the horse as she turned up the path by the Red Stream, overhanging branches combing her hair. Only a few hundred steps from the beach, ice-smooth rocks made a fortalice, protecting her from the strangers in Castle Muirn. She’d hand over the horse to Alasdair at her little fort. As she rode up the path, she spoke to the birds.

  “My special place. And I’m glad you’re here to greet me.” Here she could talk to the birds, and no one would think her mad or bewitched.

  The larks trilled a welcome. Welcome to you and Fear Mór.

  “I’ll visit with you awhile. Say ‘Good day’, Fear Mór.” The horse snorted a greeting.

  The man you seek is nowhere in sight. The birds chirped while bobbing up and down.

  “He’s coming, he is.” She lifted her hand to them.

  The Crow jumped onto a branch near her head. Indeed.

  “You don’t often visit, Crow.”

  Merely being sociable. My strong point. The Crow stayed a distance from the other birds.

  “There’s no harm in Alasdair, you know. None at all. You’ll like him,” said Shona.

  No harm in him, the Crow cawed. Harm is all round him.

  “We’re safe here.” Shona dismounted and stroked the horse’s withers. “Guide him, please, Crow.”

  Agreed. But be careful with him. For both your sakes.

  Yet another warning, but Shona was sure she could trust him to treat her well.

  Crow flew off while Shona loosened the saddle girth. Suddenly she heard the movement of bushes and the splashing of water.

  “Damn bird! Give me that back! You little thief!”

  The Crow dumped a blue bonnet by Shona. My part of the bargain fulfilled. Now you mind yourself.

  “All right!”

  Alasdair pulled bushes out of his way and the Crow retreated to a higher branch. “I believe that bird brought my bonnet to you.”

  Shona examined the bonnet and shook off the leaves that had stuck to it. “She did. No harm done.” She handed it to him. “Thank you for coming.”

  She didn’t have to imagine him. “So here you are.” Her words caught in her throat. He was handsome and he kept walking toward her, his fèileadh moving in and out with every stride. Sunlight lit up her little fort.

  Her blood sang with his nearness. Her mind was closed to anything but him. He seemed larger than any thing else in the world. She could feel drops of sweat rolling down her back and between her breasts. A warm image of the two of them crept into her mind. She saw herself at his side on his fèileadh.

  “Are you all right?”

  She stuttered as she came to herself. “Fine, fine. I’m glad you came.”

  He thought she was uncomfortable with him. If only he knew!

  Then he smiled in his gentle way. “I must apologise for not saying good-bye on my last visit.”

  She mustn’t seem too eager. “Myles told me he sent you off. I’m pleased you concluded your business successfully.” That was stiff and formal enough. Perhaps she should curtsey in the Lowland way. Time to get down to business.

  “I don’t like Thomas Connington.”

  “I don’t care for the man myself.” His voice was rich and low.

  “He may enter the horse race on Saint Michael’s Day. I’d like to see someone else win.”

  “You’d want a man with connections to your clan to lose?” He must have read the expression in her face. “Right. You have experience of him. Well, he has a Spanish warhorse. Difficult to outride him.”

  Shona indicated Fear Mór. “This horse may help.” The horse shook his head and whinnied. “He’s ready for the fray.”

  “You brought him for me. You’d trust him to me? A MacDonald.” The light filtering through the trees danced in his bright eyes. “What's his name?”

  “Fear Mòr! Will he be the Great One or the Devil for you?”

  “I believe he is great to some and devilish to others. Since you trust me well enough, so will he.”

  Alasdair stroked the horse's back.

  “I believe you’re an honourable man.” It was difficult to breathe, to think, to speak with this man. This tingling in her nerves, this fluttering in her belly, this speeding heart was a terrible thing.

  No. It’s wonderful.

  “And I believe you to be honourable as well, Shona Iain Glas.” He kept a distance from her. Pleasant but cautious—unlike herself. “How lovely you looked riding here. Like a fairy woman, riding the wild wind.”

  She drew a quick breath. She did not have the courage to ask what he meant. Does h
e know I could become a powerful banshee?

  His smile broadened. A joke. She must look a mess from her exertions. She looked down, appalled to see her earasaid behind her shoulders and her breasts jutting through the thin stuff of her old shift. Head down so he wouldn’t see her flush, she pulled her earasaid into place. “And in the gloaming you could be an Donas, the Devil himself.” In the late afternoon sun, his golden skin contrasted with his dark hair.

  “But you know my pedigree. I am of sterling character.” His eyes sparkled.

  “That’s not what my serving woman says.”

  “She’s very wise. Come. Will you let me help?” He moved to her side.

  “I am capable of removing the saddle.”

  “So you are.”

  He didn’t assume female weakness. A pleasant change. She picked up the saddle, and the weight of it bowed her like a willow. “It’s heavy, right enough. But I managed and brought the horse here.” While he held the bridle, she lifted it off, and carried it to a large flat rock. “You should be honoured to ride such a horse.” She hardly knew what else to say.

  “My backside will be flattered to sit on tooled Spanish leather.”

  She liked the idea of his backside on that horse. She must remember her business with this man.

  He ran his hand gently over the saddle. “Beautiful. I’ll return the horse after the race. I promise.”

  His words were light, but she believed him. “As long as water runs and wind blows. I know.”

  Alasdair came to examine the horse. “I’ll treat him well as I do all my beasts. He looks fit enough. Still, it’s a challenging business, a water race, isn’t it?” He stroked the horse’s neck. “We’ve no horses like this one at all. All of our ponies are almost as tall as horses, and broad-backed. But they haven’t the long legs and swiftness of this one.”

  “Fear Mór comes from Spain, part of the ransom of a Spanish gentleman in the Low Countries.” She was close enough to catch Alasdair’s man-smell, mixed with wind and heather. She retreated two steps.

  “Beautiful animal. You’ll come and see that we treat him properly?” Alasdair’s voice was reassuring.

  “You’ll train him?” She’d be able to escape the dreariness of the castle.

  “He knows you, and you can help him get used to me.”

  She’d be in the middle of preparations for the race. How often had she stood with great dignity on the edge of fun and sport? Too often. “I should be there to care for my father’s property.” She sounded like a prig.

  “And if I injure the horse of the most powerful man in the district?”

  “You must recompense him for his loss.” Prig.

  “My family won’t be pleased to pay compensation. I’ll lose business and I won’t have the pleasure of speaking to a lovely girl ever again.” He took two steps toward her.

  She held her ground. Something was happening to her, something that frightened her a little. The sun shone so brightly on the smooth stones of her fortress and she could hear the birds so clearly: She speaks to a handsome stranger so confidently. “The worst thing of all.”

  “There must be crowds of men wanting to be with you. You won’t miss me in the least.”

  “Old men and young boys.” She wanted to put her hands around his shoulders, but left them at her sides. “My father’s gone off to Edinburgh and left me here.”

  “He’s left you here to deal with Connington.” His face hardened.

  “I need your help.” She forgot to maintain her distance and walked up to him. He towered above her like the standing stone at the assembly place. With the power to crush her. “I’d like to see Connington lose the race. He might show his temper and people would see that he isn’t as charming as they think.”

  “Defeating Connington will be part of the pleasure of racing.”

  So many ways to die in a water race, but he seemed utterly unafraid. She wouldn’t cower behind the doors of her box-bed. But would she race if she were allowed? She wasn’t sure how brave she’d be in a dangerous situation. “Let’s celebrate Thomas Connington’s defeat.” She pulled out a pewter flask of claret from a saddle bag and held up a cloth packet of oatcakes and cheese.

  “A feast in your fortress. The last meal of the condemned man—with a beautiful woman. Mine is a happy fate.”

  She held up the flask. “To Fear Mór and victory!”

  After drinking a small amount, she passed the flask to him. He swallowed some of the wine.

  He was so lighthearted that she followed suit. “No more talk of the race. Here is a magic place. Forget the world outside. No worries and no enmity.”

  “No feuding,” said Alasdair. “We will be the peacemakers between our two clans.” He took her hand in his. The gesture required his sitting closer.

  She moved closer to him. “Very noble.” She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her, imagining the softness of his skin. May the world be gone from her fortress like people wave-snatched from the shore.

  A bird screeched and she opened her eyes to see Crow on a branch beside her. The bird flitted round Alasdair’s head, then back to her shoulder, where she whispered in Shona’s ear, Go now. You are too fond of this man.

  Shona didn’t speak to the bird because Alasdair might think her odd. Could she never do what other girls did? The spell was broken. “I do wish I could stay longer, but I must get back. Please take the horse.”

  Alasdair led the horse from her sanctuary, but she stayed awhile longer in the peace of the old stones. “Don’t you say a word,” she said to the bird.

  I’m as mute as the stones.

  She trudged along the shore with the crow following. “You’re an awful bird, you know. Awful.”

  My duty, dear heart.

  Chapter 11

  Next day the two guards greeted Shona as she left the castle. “We’ll make sure that no other horses are ‘stolen’ for the race, else your family will be on foot before long.” Catriona’s son was smiling—he didn’t seem to mind the theft.

  “Fear Mór will be back soon.”

  “That MacDonald had better take care of him.” The second guard’s lowered brows betrayed his suspicion.

  Shona had gone to the shore and returned without comment from her stepmother or Connington. When she did her duty to her stepmother—lots of embroidery, listening to her opinions about the barbaric country where fate had brought her—that was her penance. But Shona imagined a life with the man at the Red Stream. Tomorrow she would slip out to see Alasdair train Fear Mòr.

  At the shore Alasdair warmed Fear Mór, while Cailean and Anndru exercised their ponies and Gillesbic looked on.

  Alasdair remembered Shona riding Fear Mòr on the Tràigh Bhàn. She didn’t know it, but he’d watched her the whole way from Castle Muirn to the Red Stream—her yellow hair waving behind her like a banner, her earasaid clinging tightly to her body, her voice singing to her horse to inspire greater speed. It was more than he ever hoped to see. He was careful with her. He didn’t want to frighten her in her little sanctuary. Now he would see her again. He didn’t care if her uncle found out he had passed time with her. He’d savour every moment he had with her, come what may.

  With every stroke of his hand on the horse’s hide, Alasdair wondered if Shona would come for the training. “We could get a horse for you, Gillesbic.” Must be hard not to covet the big Campbell horse.

  “I’ll get a pony with my share of the cattle profits and not risk it in a foolish race.” Gillesbic whipped a willow switch on either side of his legs as though he were mounted.

  “I still don’t understand how you got the horse. How did you get it out of the castle?” Cailean asked.

  “Magic,” Alasdair said. The black horse’s muscles shook after the rubbing.

  “Don’t joke about such things.” Gillesbic made the sign of the cross.

  “Are you wise to take that horse into the water?” said Cailean.

  “How do you ready a horse for battle? You surround
it with people and shout and wave plaids to accustom it to noise and confusion,” said Alasdair.

  “War’s different,” said Cailean. “Fear of the water will make the horse strive for land all the swifter. I won’t take my pony to water till we race.”

  “That old pony won’t go any faster no matter what you do,” said Gillesbic.

  Among the bushes and birches that sheltered the little bay, Alasdair saw spectators watching them train, among them two women, Shona and her friend Una. He recalled the interrupted kiss. Shona’s lips curved like young laurel leaves—smooth and soft. “Do as you will, Cailean.”

  Shona came to the water’s edge. She removed her earasaid, and kilted up her long shift so that it wouldn’t get wet. Alasdair had seen women washing clothes with their shifts tucked up, and their legs red with cold. Never had he seen skin like Shona’s, as fair as bog cotton without any flaw. She took off her tiny shoes.

  Put your eyes back in your head. Be friendly and carefree.

  Alasdair smiled at Shona. “Want to accustom a horse to water with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “He’s used to me now. Hold his bridle and I’ll splash him.” Alasdair showed a bucket of water to the horse, let him inspect it, then he poured the contents over his back. He glanced at Shona, who smiled at him with wide, trusting eyes. “Bring the horse into the sea.”

  “What does this man want? Don’t you wonder?” She patted the horse’s neck.

  Win the race. Not important to him, said Fear Mòr. To win you. Important.

  “If only he could, great horse.”

  She beckoned to her friend who hadn’t joined the group. “Come help, Una.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself about me. I’ll stay warm and dry here on the sand.” Una lifted her face to the sun.

  “I have an old plaid to spread out.” Cailean shook it out and bowed elaborately to Una. “Alas, I must return to business, beautiful one.”