The Banshee of Castle Muirn

by Sheila Currie

  Shona smiled at the maids. Up they climbed to the top of the keep, much to the surprise of the four Lowland guards who bowed to them.

  “We won’t be long.”

  “May I tak’ yer arm?” Priscilla walked on the inside, and Shona set off deiseil, the lucky direction of the sun. Every few feet Priscilla touched the hard slate of the roof as if she might fall off the tower at any instant. They circled round the tower followed by the faithful maids.

  “I hae mair tae tell ye.”

  What could Priscilla add to the list of Connington’s sins? “What is it?”

  “I’m no sure. Couldnae hear well. But his evil grows. Ma heart is riven and split. I dinnae ken wha’ will become of us and I grieve for us a’.” Her face had gone white and her eyes were too big for her skull. “He plans murder in Edinburgh.”

  Chapter 16

  At Morag’s hearthfire, Alasdair adjusted his fèileadh at the front while Ruari saw to the folds at the back. The wattle door of the house opened and Shona stepped through, framed by brilliant light. He stared at her. He shouldn’t tantalise himself—he’d only cause more trouble. He knew that he couldn’t have this Campbell woman, that he’d find a woman when he had a bit of land to support a wife. And he’d get that land by dealing in cattle, and he’d deal in Campbell cattle if he kept his hands to himself.

  When he saw her slender figure shaped by light in the door, all his admonitions and warnings for himself went up like smoke into the thatch. He forced himself to speak. “Morag isn’t here. Someone came for her to minister to a sick man.”

  “I came to see you,” she said.

  A dangerous thing indeed.

  Ruari stopped arranging folds in the plaid to look at her, and then, his eyes suspicious, he looked at Alasdair.

  “We’re almost ready to go,” Alasdair told her. “Can you bring my pony, Ruari?” He grasped the old man’s shoulder to reassure him, and his tutor left. Perhaps that wasn’t wise. They were alone, completely alone for the first time—and healthy. “I’ll sleep in our camp tonight.”

  She looked up at him and took a breath. He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her on the forehead. He cradled her and waited for her to collect herself.

  “Your father’s horse is safe and sound?” He waited for her to tell him what was on her mind.

  “Yes, there was no injury to him at all.” She worried a fold in her earasaid.

  “I’m sorry for your tribulation.” Many of her family had died in the last year and now she was dealing with that Lowland blackguard. She had great courage and he felt joy in her presence. Not difficult it was, with her to gladden his eyes. “I’m thankful for your care.”

  “Can you sit for a while?” she said.

  He sat down a distance from her, on a creepie stool at the hearth. Shona and he had talked endlessly when he was ill, but now she said nothing while he watched the peat fire’s flames.

  Finally she said, “I’m going to Edinburgh.”

  “With that Lowland man? Thomas Connington?” His jaws tightened. His anger surprised him.

  “No.” She turned to face him; she was lovely with the fire making her eyes as wide and deep as Loch Muirn. “I asked you to send a message to my father in Edinburgh.”

  “I’ll do that willingly.”

  “But I’ve decided to take it myself. I want to go with you.”

  The words struck him like another blow to his head. The dangers were too great for a gentlewoman. And yet … he wanted her to go with him. “What will you do about Connington?”

  “I won’t stay any longer with him here.”

  Her clan would say he’d stolen the daughter of a chief of the Campells for a ransom. But while she had nursed him after he was injured, he saw that she was truly a good woman, a woman he wanted. Full of love. But they had to deal with her family. “Your stepmother thinks she’s made a fine choice for you.”

  “My belly turns at the thought of him.” She took his right hand like a supplicant. He could smell her fresh skin. “Rank and wealth don’t matter to me. I want a good man. You.”

  “And I want you. I want to spend whatever time I have in this world with you. We must make peace between our two families. Convince them we are suitable for each other and for our clans.”

  “My father wouldn’t make me marry against my will. He’d allow me some choice.” She looked at him in the light of the cruisie lamp. “And I choose you.”

  He drew her close and covered her with his fèileadh while he stroked her back to comfort her.

  “My father would welcome me. I’m sure of it.” She looked up and begged him with her eyes. “Only Catriona would go with me. We’d take nothing but what is absolutely necessary. A single pack horse.”

  He held her at arm’s length. “We can’t take you and attendants. With a serving woman, chests, furniture and ponies, it would be obvious you are a gentlewoman. Connington would easily determine which gentlewoman.” He let her think about that. “We are a dozen men and boys. Connington has over a hundred men. He would walk up right behind you, throw you over a pony and carry you back to Castle Muirn.” He tried to speak lightly, but she wouldn’t have it. She twisted away from him and he heard her sob. “With those numbers we must try to trick him.”

  “I don’t need the ponies and chests,” she said. “Catriona doesn’t need much.”

  “She can’t hide her womanly figure. She would still stand out. And Connington would know that, where she is, you’ll be close by. She can’t go.”

  “I’m going to Edinburgh if I have to travel alone.”

  She was so innocent, so unknowing. “The road is rough and if you survive the journey, we still have to face your father. You still want to come on the drove?”

  “Yes. If I have to walk barefoot dressed only in a léine.”

  “We sleep rough outside.”

  “I’ve slept outside.”

  “Not at this season. Not where we’re going.” He looked at her closely.

  “I’m leaving one way or another.”

  “What about our reception in Edinburgh? Will you survive the scandal? Tongues will be wagging like bell-clappers. Your father may be furious with you.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  He didn’t know any other gentlewoman who would go against her family’s wishes. “Rare is the woman who can survive without a dowry and marriage. Except women like Morag.”

  Shona raised her eyes and looked at him with an expression he hadn't ever seen before. he didn't know what to think of it. As if he had happened on some sort of secret.

  He shook his head. “Iain Glas may not welcome his daughter with no female dress, no attendants and no guards but MacDonalds.”

  He watched her face change, could see disappointment build into anger and fade into sadness. She lowered her head, wrapped her arms around herself, and told him what Connington had done in the stairwell. How he had held her against the tower wall with his body. How he hit her and she’d managed to escape. How she spent her days trying to hide from him.

  A chilling image captured his mind. Herself, beaten and bloody, crouched at the foot of the spiral stair. Anger flowed like molten silver throughout the veins of his body, shutting out thought and reason. He’d take her with him. No more discussion.

  Alasdair saw her shiver in the heat of the fire. She seemed to fear Connington even when he was nowhere in sight. Alasdair put his arms around her and they sat together.

  “I have to escape that man.”

  “I know.” If that scarecrow were in the room at that moment, he’d be flat on the earthen floor and dead with Alasdair’s dirk in his belly.

  “Marriage with him would be my coffin.” Despair thickened her voice. He had no doubt she would walk barefoot to Edinburgh. “If he found me and took me back, I’d leave again. He has recruited men from the district like the MacPharlans.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she banished them with her fists and laughed bitterly. “I need to go to my father and ask him if he approves of his
crowd of allies. Thomas Connington says that war and rebellion are war coming. I need to go there to warn my father.”

  “What could you do? A woman?” She huffed at him and ran to the door. He staggered to his feet. “Wait.” She put her hand to the wattle door. “Wait, please wait.”

  “Will you take me?”

  “Please, come back. Sit down.” He would be mad, clean mad, to take her. But Alasdair couldn’t help himself. He had made up his mind to keep her safe.

  “You can’t travel as a gentlewoman.”

  “I’d travel as a tinker’s woman if I had to.”

  “You’ll travel as a boy. Then, at a distance, you’ll fool anyone who sees us pass.” Up close he was sure she’d have the scent of a woman. As she did now.

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “You’d have to work as a herd boy.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So you say now. A ghràidh, I hope your spirit and strength will see you through.”

  On the journey she wouldn’t be hard to look at, even disguised. If she were discovered too soon, he’d fight to keep her. “I’ll find you a boy’s lèine and plaid. Don’t take anything with you but—”

  “I have some boy’s clothes and a bonnet, but I’ll need the clothes that gentlewomen wear in Edinburgh. For my arrival.”

  “You’ve dressed as a boy before!”

  “No, but I’ve thought about it. The clothes belonged to my brother, who died over a year ago.”

  “We leave in two days at sunrise. We may not be able to spend a lot of time together on the drove.”

  “In two days then. At your camp. Whatever happens.”

  The journey could turn out badly. Especially with her along. But something in the back of his mind told him he was doing the right thing. His heart lightened at the thought of her close presence in the days to come.

  And with luck, for a lifetime.

  With her earasaid pulled over her hair, Shona slipped out of the keep. Connington's man stopped her at the guardhouse.

  “I'm going to minister to a sick man in the village. Captain Connington knows what I'm doing.” The mention of his captain's name made the guard shrink back. “I shall report the nature of the illness to him.” He stepped aside and Shona hurried down the path through the baile.

  Morag’s house, an island of green fertility, had no appearance of rebellion against Connington and his soldiers. Her vegetables were ready to be culled and her herbs to be plucked.

  Morag herself rose from her kail beds and greeted her calmly. “You’ll be leaving now.” She handed Shona a basket of kail, enough to serve soup to the whole village. “Follow me.”

  Shona went into the house with her, straight to the hearth room. “Your father won’t know what to do with you.” How did she know? The eyestone wasn’t that accurate. Morag pulled down herbs, drying on the rafters over the fire, placed them into a bowl and crushed them to powder with a smooth stone. “You’ll be needing these. Make sure you keep them dry or they’ll rot.”

  Shona knew that.

  The wise woman folded them into a strip of linen. She selected another and repeated the exercise. “Do you likewise with the alla bhuidhe.” The all-healing herb was the best to take on a journey. She hoped she’d have the strength to finish the journey.

  “I want to hear from his own lips that my father accepts Connington.”

  “Hard it is sometimes, to understand your family.” Morag’s eyes had a faraway look. Did she see past or future? And then she was back. “Not worried about being killed?”

  “Why would I be killed? I’ll be a herd boy, a person of little interest to anyone.”

  “Don’t be silly. That Connington man will go to the ends of the earth to get what he wants. You keep your eyes open. Think of me when you need to.”

  What does that mean?

  “When you are in danger, listen to the Crow.”

  Morag was short with her. She seemed to expect Shona to have some idea of what she was talking about, but there was no point in asking the old woman to explain. She did things in her own way in her own time.

  “How would he find out? You and Alasdair are the only ones who know where I’m going.”

  “If you and the cattle disappear at the same time, it won’t be difficult to figure out where you might be. No, I think you’d best fall ill. I’ll send word to Catriona and she can tell your stepmother. You tell her what the Inglishe words are.” Morag thought a bit longer. “I’ll have you die in a few days. You’ll have to drown. You ran into the loch in your fever and drowned. We won’t recover your body.”

  “My spirit will spend eternity with the seal people.”

  Morag turned sharply to her. “Don’t even say it. Mi-fhortanach—it’s unlucky.”

  “Thank you for your help.” She was difficult to know, but Shona could trust her life to her.

  “No one will hear from me. I know how to keep secrets.” The wise woman took her by her two hands. She said nothing for a time. “You don’t want to be a banshee, but you may be forced to use the power. Use it wisely.”

  “I can’t control it. If I kill someone, I’ll be as evil as Connington.”

  “I’ll guide you.”

  “How?”

  The Crow, who had been sleeping on the meal chest, shook her wings and cawed.

  “That bird is my messenger. Pay attention to her and you might survive.” The Crow waggled her head up and down.

  Morag rolled more herbs into linen strips. “And fire-starter.” She handed over the cloth and a little wooden box of dry moss and flints, which Shona placed in her leather bag. “And these.” She held out eight copper and six silver coins.

  Shona took the largest and examined it: a sword and crown on one side; she turned it over and saw a shield with a lion on it with another crown above it.

  “The Lowlanders call it a dollar. The silver pennies are worth more than the copper ones.”

  Morag had money—another wonder.

  “Food is not for the asking in the Lowlands. You must use the coins to get it. If you need to buy a bit of food, use one of the small pieces. If you need to feed a great many, use the silver dollar.”

  “How did you—”

  “It will buy you food or whatever you need to save life.” Shona had a few coins left in her coinbox. She had almost forgotten about it—she never had any use for it. Neither had anyone else in the village. But she knew her father had a great deal of money, and took bags of it to the Lowlands with him.

  “I’ll never leave this place,” Morag replied as if she had spoken. “But I thought you might. I’ll send to Catriona for the other things you’ll need. You stay here tonight.”

  Shona had spent many nights with Morag. No one would think anything of it.

  “One more thing. Connington may come to see you if he learns you’re ill.”

  “To convince him, I should be really ill.”

  Morag untied more herbs from the rafters. “I’ll give you a potion.” She took the herbs to her kitchen chest to mix them.

  “How long will it last?”

  “You’ll have a fever for a day. You’ll be able to walk after the second night.” Morag ground the mixture to a powder and put it into a horn cup with water. She offered the cup to Shona, who drank the liquid.

  They heard voices outside Morag’s house. Inglishe. Priscilla?

  “Morag. I need tae see Morag. Where does she stay? I need tae see Morag.”

  Priscilla, who never left the castle. For whom even the parapet walk was a trial. Something compelling had brought her out to the baile.

  Morag stepped out to meet her.

  “Would ye dae me the honour of a visit wi’ ye?”

  Morag replied, “Honour is ours. Come.”

  Priscilla had a shawl over her head. When she removed it, Shona saw that her face was red with weeping. “What is wrong?”

  “I know ma Thomas murdered yer uncle. He boasts o’ it. I hae been sae blind.”

  “Come. Si
t.” Morag took her to a little chair and told Shona to make the calming Spanish tea for her. When she’d had a sup or two of the tea, she began to speak.

  “The Catholic wars hae ruined Thomas. Destroyed him. But I thought there was still good in him. But he’s gey impatient tae savour the best in life—fine food, houses fu’ o’ polished furniture, gardens of flowers and the company of the powerful.”

  Connington needed gold for his conspiracy. He intended to become wealthy and powerful.

  “So beautiful things are like a potion that revives him. Such as the Venetian glasses we have in the hall cupboard.”

  He could forget the war in possessing and caressing them. That made sense.

  “And yerself. Ye’r a beautiful woman.”

  A possession. Shona understood him better, but had no desire to belong to Thomas Connington. But why was Priscilla sitting here in Morag’s little house?

  Priscilla turned to her and took her hand gently. “Ye are a great beauty and ye might hae healed ma Thomas.”

  “I cannot.”

  “I wished ye’d marry him.” Priscilla bowed her head. She looked so frail in the light of the peat fire. “But I ken he’s evil.”

  There was no point in saying anything further. Shona couldn’t say he was evil incarnate, but nor did she tell the other woman about his attempt to molest her. Priscilla had had enough shocks.

  “Ye love someone else?”

  “I do.”

  “I haven’t been happy in this marriage wi’ yer faither. I dinnae understand why I had tae dae it. Nae body told me why. They said women must keep their nebs oot o’ the affairs o’ men.” Priscilla’s voice was touched with anger. “Thomas called me a besom. I dinnae ken what he’s aboot, but it’s no good.” She had never said a harsh word about Thomas before.

  Morag told Shona to tell her she might come and stay at any time.

  “You showed great courage coming here. You are welcome anytime.”

  Priscilla nodded and sat quietly for a few moments. “I ken ye’r leavin'. What can I dae tae help?”

  Next day Shona woke up in a fever and Morag sent for Catriona, who brought some clothes: two short plaids, two man’s shirts, and two pairs of drawers and a pair of short trews. She also brought Lowland dresses, including the green gown, Myles’s gift, and some silver dishes. They hid it in Morag’s chest and waited for Connington and one of his men to come and inquire after her health.