The Banshee of Castle Muirn

by Sheila Currie

  After watching the herdboys mix their meal, she did the same. And when they unpinned and unbelted the fèileadh, she did that too. She bundled herself in the wool and fell asleep.

  Suddenly she sat up. Connington had appeared from nowhere. The herd had moved on and she was alone by the loch. He seized her as he had in the stairwell and he tried to get under her shirt “for a tasty bite.” She tried to evade him, but he caught her and kissed her. She tried to push him away, but he slapped her.

  “Ye wait till I get ye home. Ye’ll see what I have in mind for ye.”

  She had never been treated in such a manner. “I am a gentleman’s child. You should be ashamed for laying a hand on me.”

  “I think not, missy. Your father wants rid of you, and I have good uses for your dowry. I shall be King of Scotland. And you will bow—”

  His hands imprisoned her. Hard, cruel hands.

  With a cry, she woke.

  “What’s all this?” asked Ruari. “You’ll wake the dead.”

  Shona looked about her. Several herd boys stared at her. “I had a dream.”

  “So you did.” Ruari’s voice was not unkind. “No harm done. I told the boys you’d had a hard life before we got you.”

  The dream was a warning.

  The next day the quiet calm of autumn lay over the country, smoothing the rough shapes of rocks and crags. A beautiful country. She went to find Ruari or Gillesbic to find out what she should do. Everyone was pleasant to her as she passed by.

  Two of the drovers produced three rabbits, caught in the early morning. After the herd boys skinned the animals and cooked the food, Shona and little Finlay Beag collected cups and distributed them full of rabbit stew. The clothing of the older boys steamed and dried at the cookfire. Her knees chafed in the cold and wet, but she did her duty.

  When Alasdair returned from checking the sentinels, she approached him. “Your cup?”

  He brought his cup from the fold of his plaid. “I’ve watched you. You’ve done well and not a syllable of complaint from you. Regret your decision?”

  “Nothing has happened to make me regret it. The weather has been perfect.” She took his cup as a squall of wind lifted the folds of her fèileadh.

  “Journey’s not done.” He leaned toward her and whispered, “I’d like to take you under my arm and keep you warm.” He looked about.

  “You know you don’t dare.”

  “I’ll have a little gift for you when you’ve finished your tasks today. See the stone there? Oisean’s Stone, it’s called.” The stone was massive and difficult to miss.

  “At day’s end I take a walk past the stone. Understood.” And away she went.

  Wondering what was waiting for her at day’s end made the time pass quickly indeed.

  “Call of nature,” she said to Finlay Beag before he asked.

  When she passed by the big stone, she saw Alasdair standing in front of a copse of birch trees. “Follow!”

  They walked through birch trees until they reached the other side of the little copse. Masses of white clouds gathered in the sky, but rays of sunshine slid through the narrow passes between them, edging some with ripe gold and others with fiery red as they fell to the loch below.

  “I wish we could stay here for ever.” Beauty all round her and the man she loved beside her. Heaven could be no different.

  Alasdair said nothing, but smiled and nodded. She’d seen that same smile in her little fortress at home. She knew it couldn’t last and so did he, but she delayed her future for a time.

  “Come.” He led her to a little mound of leaf-covered earth—and pulled away the carpet of leaves to reveal the interior of a small tent.

  “Wonderful! You have created a paradise for us and disguised it.” He knelt and sat, and she crept in beside him. The loch was still in sight.

  He reached for a leather bag and drew packages from it. “A little smoked salmon and fresh oatcakes. Sorry, no cream, just a bit of butter.”

  “A feast nonetheless.” The smell of fresh leaves and clean earth mixed with the savory smoke of the salmon.

  “Will you have a bit of claret?”

  “More claret! Truly a feast fit for kings and the old gods.”

  He poured a taste into her cup and his own. “We have things to discuss.”

  An image of him saying farewell and turning his back to her appeared like a bolt of lightning in her mind. Poof and gone forever.

  “I want to marry you next year.”

  She must have appeared struck by that lightning.

  He put out a hand to her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Never better!” Tears came to her eyes. How did that happen? Where did they come from?

  “I’ll do it properly. Ruari and I will go to your father and ask for you. After I sell the cattle I can prove to him that I’ll soon have wealth enough to buy a good house and a bit of land.”

  She’d go with him without earasaid or shoes, without a roof overhead or a garden for food. She said in her most formal voice, “I accept.” And giggled.

  “I’d take you without a tochradh, a ghràidh. I have cattle enough for us. I’ll tell your father that too. I don't need your dowry.” He took her hands in his and kissed them.

  Her heart rippled with sudden joy. She couldn’t believe it. But her mind darkened—such joy couldn’t last.

  “I dreamt about Connington yesterday. That he caught me and put me in prison.”

  “Say a seun, a charm, and put him out of your thoughts.”

  “I shall.”

  “Better you do it now so he can’t curse you.”

  “He may already have done so.”

  “Say it anyway. It may weaken it.”

  She prepared the seun in her mind. Her hands shook and her breathing quickened. She thought about the air moving in and out and slowed it. Then she said the charm perfectly.

  Feart sùla dhomh

  Feart dùla dhomh

  Feart reula dhomh

  Feart rùn mo chlèibhe

  dhomh an comhnaidh.

  Power of eye be mine

  Power of the elements be mine.

  Power of the stars be mine.

  Power of my true love

  be ever mine.

  “Only walking into the future will tell you what he’ll do.” He lifted her chin and gave her a gentle kiss. “Ruari suggested that you become my servant. Does that meet with your approval? You’d be near me where I can protect you.”

  “I shall be your obedient servant in all matters,” she said, cheekily.

  “The old spirit is almost back.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She reached up and wrapped her two hands round his neck. His skin was cool against her face as he kissed the angle of her neck and jaw. Then she raised his hand to her breast. He gasped. He unbuckled her belt and removed her féileadh and journeyed the length of her body. Her léine was thin, and little was hidden from him. His fingers explored the shape of her breasts and her back and her waist. She lost herself in his arms. Her breathing became slow and heavy. She pushed into his chest and a thrill passed through her body from breast to womb. She wanted to unbuckle his belt and draw his féileadh over the two of them. She wanted to explore him—his face, his skin, and most especially, his male parts.

  “Stop. Please stop.”

  Her heart bounded in her breast. “What’s wrong?”

  “We cannot go further. If we do, I may give you a child in a dangerous time.”

  She moaned. “Sweeter than the apples high in the tree are you, and so hard to give up after a taste.”

  He gave her a light kiss on her forehead and rolled over beside her. “We’ll find places to meet on the road to Edinburgh. But it’s up to me to make sure there’s no child.”

  “I look for you every day. I follow what you do. I'll spy upon you.”

  He grinned. “An activity for which we share a common liking. But it will be so very hard when I look at you—when I want to pull you down and make ch
ildren with you.”

  “In the roadway! I much prefer this little tent in the birchwood.” She turned and lay on top of his chest.

  “Sorry. You must sit up. I need to bathe in the stream. Cold water will cure me of lust for you. Stay here while I bathe.”

  “You’re walking oddly. Are you in pain?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I’ll be fine.” His face and neck turned a light shade of pink. “See that no one is looking when you leave the tent. Go ahead of me and find Ruari.”

  And away he went. She dressed quickly and left for the stance. Just as in her dream, she was back in the world of men and cattle. They noticed her arrival, but no one questioned her. Ruari was making sure the night guards were in place.

  “So young—Seathan—you’re ready for this venture. We still have a long journey before us.” He took her aside. “Right. Where have you been, if I may ask? Did you...”

  “No. More’s the pity.”

  “You must stay away from each other. Truly. You endanger all of us.”

  Epilogue

  As they travelled down the drove road, Shona was happy thinking about the wonderful things that had happened in the birchwood. His smooth skin over hard muscle was a memory she’d treasure a good long time.

  And Alasdair wanted to marry her!

  Her father had to allow it. He wouldn’t force her to marry Connington when he learned what he had done—that son of the devil.

  Shona saw the Crow flying above and craned to see Alasdair. Had he noticed the Crow?

  “What do you want, Crow?”

  I shall follow, croaked the bird as she descended among the herd boys. I am charged to watch over you. Fall back so that we may speak.

  That annoying bird would trouble Shona until she listened. She walked more slowly. “I know what you’re going to say, Crow. I have a destiny, I have a duty. My destiny and duty’s name is Alasdair Dubh—up there in front of the herd.”

  Morag has looked through the eyestone. Bloody wars and many deaths, says she. Your task is not complete. You will save lives. As the banshee, your greatest work is yet to come.

  “Please, let me be happy—tonight.”

  Tonight then, and tomorrow, and a few days after that. Then you must face your true destiny. The Crow flew off, leaving two black feathers behind.

  That full feeling of joy sluiced from her heart, and it filled with pain. Tears welled in her eyes. Was it so much to ask to do what other women did? Was there no justice in the world?

  She watched the ground as she plodded along.

  “Hai!”

  Shona jumped. She was deep in thought and it took a moment to come back to the world.

  Alasdair turned his pony round and walked beside her. “If you don’t look up, you won’t see what’s in front of you. Wolves, marauders and the like. Myself as well.” He bent over her and said quietly, “Do you understand what I feel? I love you and I’ll be at your side.”

  They heard a cough. Ruari had ridden back. “I heard. So you will not find a wife among your own people, have children and farm with ourselves.”

  “I’ll stay with Shona.”

  Ruari said, “Ach, not a good thing. Endless travelling about for a woman you shouldn’t have. “

  Alasdair said to Shona, “I will have a wife with children and land. I’ll wait for you—I’m a patient man. I’ll help you fight your battles.”

  “There may be real battles. You could throw your life away.” said Ruari. “Or grow old without children. I don’t recommend it.”

  First the Crow and now Ruari. They reminded her of duty and possibility, and she didn’t like it. But still ... “Alasdair, what he says is wise.”

  Alasdair kissed her hand. “We’ll see what happens. Luckless or not, landless or not, you’ll always have my love.”

  THE END

  AFTERWORD

  Shona and Alasdair’s story will continue in The Banshee of the Bright Corrie, releasing in May 2019.

  Be sure to sign up for Sheila’s newsletter at www.sheilacurrie.com to be the first to hear of her new releases!

  AUTHOR NOTES

  The banshee, ban-sìth as it is in Gaelic, means fairy woman. She has bad PR in the English-speaking world: she is disagreeable, she screeches, she is entirely too noisy. However, in the Gaelic tradition of Scotland and Ireland, the banshee serves a social function, the ability to predict the future—even death which ensures enough time for a proper funeral. Foreigners don't have them or “deserve them”. She can protect women. If a man finds a beautiful woman sitting alone outside at night, combing her hair without concern or fear, he will conclude she is a banshee, and not harm her.

  This novel is a romantic fantasy, based on historical fact. In the late 1630s Scotland was on the verge of rebellion which would lead to the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. The wars began in Scotland, then spread to Ireland and finally to England where it is called the English Civil War.

  In the story Alasdair MacDonald hoped to make a truce with his clan's traditional enemy, the Campbells, and make both clans more prosperous. But he doesn't know about the explosive political situation developing in the Lowlands. He will learn when he leaves the Highlands on the drove to Edinburgh.

  Some of the Gaelic names are simplified to make them easier to read for an English-speaking readership. A glossary of Gaelic and Lowland Scots follows.

  GLOSSARY

  Gàidhlig, Gaelic

  alla bhuidhe - St John's wort

  bacach - lame, awkward

  baile - village, town

  ban-sìth - fairy woman, banshee, warns of death, magic powers

  bean-shìthe - fairy woman, banshee, warns of death, magic powers

  bean-tuiream - mourning woman, keening woman; plural: mnathan-tuiream

  Beinn Mhòr - Big Mountain

  birlinn- galley, longship, a ship with a square sail and oars,

  Caimbeulach - member of Clan Campbell

  cèilidh - visit, entertainment

  claidheamh mòr - big sword

  crùisgean - crusie, oil lamp

  cuach - large drinking bowl with two handles

  dàn - poem, song, destiny, fate

  deiseil - sunwise, clockwise, the right way of doing anything

  Dòmhnallach - member of Clan Donald

  drama - drink

  dubh - black, black-haired

  dyke - low wall

  geas - spell, enchantment; prohibition

  gleann - glen, valley

  earasaid - women's plaid of three loom widths, wrapped round the body, belted at the waist and pinned at the shoulder

  fèileadh - man's plaid of two loom widths, wrapped round the bodybelted & pinned; great kilt; fèileadhean = great kilts

  gall - foreigner; goill = foreigners

  gràdh - love; a ghràidh = O love

  leac- tall, flat stone: slab, tombstone, flagstone

  lèine - shirt for a man, shift for a woman

  luadhadh - waulking or fulling of cloth to make it durable

  Mac an Donais - Son of the Devil

  maor - official, head man of a village, from Latin, similar to mayor

  maor taighe - man in charge of the hall, of protocol; steward

  mòran taing - many thanks

  A Mhuire Mhàthair! - O Mary Mother

  Mo mhallachd ort! - My curse on you!

  mùirn - delight, joy, contentment

  ollamh - master poet, highest grade of poet

  plaide - blanket

  sealladh - sight, view:

  an dà shealladh - the second sight, the ability to predict death through apparitions

  seanchaidh - tradition-bearer, storyteller, historian

  seun - charm, spell

  sgian - knife

  sìtheach - fairy

  sìthichean - fairies

  slàinte - health; a toast

  slàinte dhuibh uile- a health to all of you

  sporan - purse, wallet

  sreath - line, row, circle of people


  stad - stop

  tànaiste - tanist, second in command to the chief, regent

  thugad - watch out

  tochradh, tochair - dowry

  tràigh bhàn - white sand beach

  triubhas - close-fitting trousers cut on the bias, full or knee length

  Note: Highlanders speak Gàidhlig, a Celtic language called Gaelic in English. Gàidhlig is the original Scottish language.

  Am Faclair Beag (The Little Dictionary)

  http://www.faclair.com/index.aspx?Language=en

  Inglishe, Lowland Scots

  auld - old

  besom - a broom, a bundle of twigs for sweeping, a woman of bad character

  bonnet - a head covering for men, a brimless wool cap

  brose - watery oatmeal

  cauld - cold

  chamber - private space in a castle for a lord and/or his lady; a bed-sit

  chapman - peddler

  claymore - big sword from Gaelic claidheamh mòr

  crusie lamp - oil lamp made of two iron bowls with a rush wick

  daft - stupid, foolish

  dais - raised platform at one end of a hall for the table of high-status people

  the Deil - the Devil

  dram - drink

  frae - from

  fray - fight, battle

  glaikit - foolish

  glen - valley from Gaelic gleann

  gloaming - twilight, dusk

  hall - public space for gatherings, meals and sleeping in a castle

  hallion - rascal, clumsy man, ragged man

  kail- cabbage

  Martinmas - 11 November

  neb - bird's beak, nose

  noo - now

  plaid - blanket, shawl; from Gaelic plaide

  reek - smoke

  sporran - purse, from Gaelic sporan

  stance - resting place for cattle