“Perhaps you have a family waiting for you.”
The fisherman smiled again.
“If you are asking if I am married, the answer is ‘no’, I cannot afford to be. But you have not yet told me about yourself. What is your name?”
“Clova.”
“A Scottish name? But you don’t look like a Scot and most of the women around here are dark-haired like their Pictish ancestors or red-headed.”
“My grandmother came from the Grampian Mountains.”
“Is that where you have come from now?”
She was just about to tell him the truth that she had come from France, but instead she said,
“You have not told me your name.”
“I apologise. I should have introduced myself. I am Tarquil, the Laird of Cowan, for what it is worth, ruling over a Castle that is falling more and more into disrepair with every wind that blows and a Clan that has lost heart through privation and the injuries perpetrated on it by our neighbours.”
‘The McCowans,’ Clova murmured to herself. Somehow she could hear the name being spoken of when she was small.
“Yes, the McCowans,” the Laird said aggressively. “A proud Clan, although we are of no consequence to anyone except ourselves.”
“And who are your enemies,” Clova asked, “are they those who killed your ewes?”
She knew the answer before he spoke.
“Who but the McBlanes?” he answered. “They have been determined for the last three hundred years to exterminate us and now are within reach of achieving their objective.”
Although there was bitterness in his voice, when he finished speaking he smiled again and said,
“I am boring you with my troubles and I can only excuse myself by saying that you are the first person I have spoken to since I found my ewes dead and realised that once again I had thrown away what little money I had on trying to make a living for my people by improving the breed of our own sheep.”
As Clova would have answered him, there was a shout from the road high up above them and she looked up to see Torbot McBlane waving to her.
“I have to go,” she said, “but I would like to see you again, if it is possible, and I promise I will try to help you to put an end to these ridiculous feuds that should have died out long ago in a civilised country.”
“You will help me?” he asked.
Then, as she looked up into the dark eyes that seemed to her to penetrate below the surface as if he was looking for something very special, he said quietly,
“Because I cannot believe you are real, because you appeared to help me when I am quite certain I could not have managed that salmon without you, I am prepared to believe, although it seems incredible, what you have just said.”
“I said I would try,” Clova answered in a very low voice.
She did not know why, but, although he had not moved, she had the feeling that they were touching each other and she felt as if her whole body vibrated towards him.
It was an odd unaccountable feeling that she had never had before. But it was very real and she was vividly conscious of him and his aura.
Of his broad shoulders, the open-necked shirt he wore without a coat, his kilt that was faded, yet became him in a manner that she was certain no other garment could do and his eyes dark in his sunburnt face.
“You are very lovely,” he said looking down at her, “and I am afraid that if I let you go, I shall never see you again. However, when I asked you if you were real, you said you were. So how can I find you?”
Clova drew in her breath.
“I am on my way to the Castle McBlane.”
She saw the expression on the Laird’s face change.
“I don’t believe it! Clova! But, of course, you are the Marquis’s daughter and you have been brought back from France.”
“You have heard of me?”
“The whole countryside is talking about you and saying that you will be the new Chieftain.”
There was a twist to his lips as he added,
“May I be the first to welcome you in your new position and to the territory that you will rule over and the people who will obey you.”
He paused before he went on,
“You said that you hoped to see me again, but I think that is unlikely. They will not allow you to fraternise with the enemy, for make no mistake, my Lady, the McBlanes hate and loathe the McCowans and would exterminate them all if they could.”
Somehow Clova felt hypnotised by what he was saying and then, throwing out her hands as if she was protecting herself physically, she cried,
“No! No! You are wrong to think like that. It is wicked and something I shall not allow. If my people are menacing yours, I will prevent them from doing so. As you say, we are living in a new era. We must become civilised and we must advance as other countries all over Europe are advancing. ”
The Laird stared at her.
“Are you really saying this to me?” he asked. “How can you think as you do?”
“It is how any sensible person would think.”
“I agree with you, but you will find it hard to make anybody around you understand it. They will believe that you are speaking in a foreign language!”
“Then we must make them understand,” Clova said firmly.
“We?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Are you suggesting that you and I will fight this formidable campaign together?”
“Why not? If we have any authority, then our Clans should listen to us and we have to tell them what is wrong and what is right.”
The Laird drew in his breath.
“That is the way the Scots should be thinking and talking,” he said quickly. “Oh, my dear, I only pray that you will not become disillusioned as I have been.”
“Are you really prepared to give up so easily?” Clova asked. “We have to convince our people, if no one else, that feuds and warring among the Clans is dangerously out of date. You may laugh at me, but I cannot help thinking that the real enemy of Scotland is a hard fact of economics. The country lacks money.”
The Laird stared at her.
And then he replied,
“You are not real. No woman as young as you could think like that, but because I am prepared to follow you to Heaven or Hell, I pledge my allegiance.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then he went down on one knee and, taking her hand, kissed it.
Clova knew that it was the age-old obeisance given by tribesmen to the Chieftain of their Clan, but, as he took her hand, she could not help her fingers tightening on his.
He rose to his feet and now he seemed to tower above her.
“If you need me, send for me and I will come to you. But, because I value my life, I prefer that it should be in the daytime rather than at night.”
“Are you really – suggesting that my people might – kill you?”
“There is certainly one amongst them who would not hesitate to do so.”
. Clova was still.
Then, although she knew the answer, she had to ask the question.
“Are you – talking about my – Cousin Euan McBlane?”
“So you have been told about him.”
“Yes, and I intend to judge him for myself.”
“I hope you will do so, but remember that he is a dangerous man and he wants above all things to be the Chieftain of the McBlanes.”
“Are you – suggesting that he might try to – kill me?”
There was a twist to the Laird’s lips before he replied,
“He has a better idea than that and has already been talking about it quite freely.”
“And what is that?”
“He intends to marry you!”
Clova stared at him in sheer astonishment.
“To – marry me?”
“Why not? He will then be almost.in the position he desires and, if you should die accidentally, which, of course, would be very regrettable, he would be too firmly ensconced for a
nybody to be able to oust him from the Throne.”
Clova did not speak and after a moment the Laird carried on in a different tone,
“I should not be frightening you, but I want you to promise me one thing.”
“What is – that?”
Clova’s voice was hardly above a whisper.
“If you really are frightened by anything that occurs to make you think you are in danger, you will let me know.”
Clova nodded.
“I will.”
There was another shout from the ridge above her and she said,
“I have to go now.”
“Of course, and I will return to my own land and think about you.”
He smiled as he added.
“Incidentally at the moment I am poaching on McBlane territory! Our boundary is a good two hundred yards further up the river.”
“So we really are neighbours?”
“Neighbours with a sword, or rather a dirk, keeping us apart.”
“That is something I shall not allow to happen,” Clova said firmly. “You are my first friend in Scotland and I don’t intend to lose you!”
“If that is the truth, it makes me feel very proud.”
“It is true and I am also rather apprehensive. I know very little about the land I left when I was only – seven years old.”
The Laird smiled.
“You will find that those first seven years were very important and, now that you are home again, you will remember what you thought you had forgotten. Scotland and the call of the Highlands will ring in your ears, beat in your heart, throb through your blood and you cannot escape from it!”
“Is that what you have – found?”
“Exactly! And that is why you will find that there is no escape, and even if there was you would not take it.”
Again what he was saying seemed hypnotic.
Then, as Torbot McBlane shouted for the third time, Clova forced herself to walk away.
“Au revoir!”
The French farewell, which was so much more explicit than ‘goodbye’, came instinctively to her lips.
As if he understood, the Laird said in reply,
“Au revoir, beautiful Chieftain of the McBlanes. I swear, however difficult it may seem, that I shall see you again soon.”
Clova smiled at him and then she was running up the small twisting sheep tracks to where Torbot McBlane was waiting for her impatiently.
*
They arrived at The Castle as the sun was sinking a little and the shadows were growing longer.
It was then, as she saw The Castle, large, imposing and magnificent, rising above the Strath silhouetted against a protective circle of green fir trees and above them rose the barren tops of the moors, she realised how impressive it was.
There was a river running down the middle of the Strath, the hills on each side seeming designed as a background for the authority of The Castle.
The horses turned in through some large iron gates and then as they went a little further up the drive, Clova could hear the sound of the pipes.
It was the tune that the McBlane pipers played when going to war that greeted her as she drew nearer and nearer and saw four pipers standing outside the great oak door.
There was also a large group of Clansmen who she thought, before Torbot McBlane confirmed that she was right, were the servants who worked in the gardens, the foresters and gamekeepers from the forests, the ghillies from the river and the stalkers who had come down from the hills.
Torbot McBlane had driven in the carriage with her for the last few miles of her journey in order to explain who would be the guests waiting to greet her when she arrived.
They would all be close relatives who had come from various outlying parts of the estate, where they had houses or Castles of their own, but were extremely proud of being an intimate part of the Chieftain’s family.
He did not at first mention Euan McBlane and, when he had completed long descriptions of her other relatives, Clova enquired,
“And will my cousin Euan McBlane be there?”
She thought that Torbot McBlane’s face darkened before he replied,
“He will be there. You may be certain of that, my Lady.”
“I would like you to speak frankly about him,” Clova said. ‘Why do you dislike him and why are the Elders – so determined that he should not be their Chieftain?”
“As I have already told you, he has no real fondness for Scotland.”
“I think there is more to it than that,” Clova protested.
Torbot McBlane did not speak and after a moment she asked,
“Is he intent on furthering the feuds between us and the Clans who live on the borders of our land?”
Torbot McBlane threw her a sharp glance.
“Why should you think that?”
“It is just an idea that came to me.”
She sensed that he debated with himself before he answered her question.
“It is true we have heard stories of hostile acts against other Clansmen who live near us and, although it is difficult to prove that it is Euan McBlane who is responsible for them, we have our suspicions.”
“And have you tried to stop him from, doing such things?”
Again she was aware that Torbot McBlane argued with himself whether he should tell her what was in his mind and finally he said,
“He has a band of young men who follow him because they have nothing better to do.”
“What you are saying is that he runs a gang!”
Torbot McBlane nodded as if he could not bring himself to speak of it and she said sharply,
“Such behaviour must be stopped. I cannot allow the McBlanes to have a reputation for behaving in any way but what is correct and right for themselves and for their country.”
Now Torbot McBlane was staring at her in surprise.
“You are speaking like your father,” he observed, “and those who are awaiting you will be proud to hear it.”
“Why did Papa not speak to Euan – if he knew what was going on?”
“As I have already said, my Lady, there is no real evidence against him. We only know, as the complaints pour in, that somebody is carrying on the feuds that are doing unprovoked harm to people who are struggling, just as our people are, to keep alive in the face of terrible difficulties.”
“Then something must be done!” Clova declared. “I hope, Mr. McBlane, you will help me and guide me as you have done on this journey. If I am to be at all effective as your Chieftain, I must know the truth, the whole truth and nothing must be kept from me. Do you understand?”
He nodded his head, and Clova said,
“Thank you. Thank you for being so kind to me and for making me less afraid than I would otherwise have been to face – what lies ahead of me.”
She knew by the expression on his face that he was extremely gratified by what she had said.
She told herself that, if she was honest, it was not only Torbot McBlane who had helped her but also the Laird of Cowan.
A man who, despite any attempts to stop her, she would see again and not only see him but help him.
When Clova had greeted those who had waited for her outside the front door of The Castle, she found standing on the steps in the doorway a number of her relatives.
Most of them were elderly men, who in their smart kilts looked very much as her grandfather had and whom she gathered had all known her as a child, although she could not remember any of them.
When she moved into the hall to climb the stairs up to the first floor where the main Reception room was situated, there was one man standing a little back from the rest.
He came towards her with an expression in his eyes that made her know who he was before they were introduced.
“I don’t suppose you remember your Cousin Euan McBlane?” one of the older men said.
“I am afraid not,” Clova replied.
Then, as she held out her hand and Euan took it, she had the feelin
g that she was touching something poisonous and unclean.
It was not only the way he looked at her, which made her shrink from the expression in his eyes, but it was something evil or perhaps it was sheer hatred that vibrated from him.
Instinctively she took her hand from his more quickly than she should have done.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Cousin Clova.”
His voice, she thought, was as unpleasant as he was himself.
“It is a great pleasure to be back in Scotland,” she answered firmly.
She thought that his eyes narrowed as he asked,
“And do you really intend to stay?”
“Of course! This is where I belong.”
She spoke lightly, but she knew that those who heard what she said approved, while she was aware that Euan’s thin lips tightened for a moment.
She turned away from him and started to climb the stairs, her relatives following her as she walked through the open doors of the Chieftain’s Room.
It was a large impressive room with long high windows overlooking the gardens, which led down to a small loch.
On the other side of it there were woodlands and above them a steep hill so rocky that she remembered now that it never turned purple with heather like the rest of the moors.
She stood for a moment gazing out of one of the windows. Then she realised that drinks were being poured out for the assembled guests so that they could drink her health.
They toasted her in Gaelic and then in English, as if to make sure that she understood that they were welcoming her.
She thanked them and, as she spoke first to one and then to another, she was sure that Euan, who was somehow detached from the rest of the Clan, was watching her every move and doubtless listening to everything she said.
It made her feel almost as if he was waiting to pounce on her and perhaps when no one was watching to assassinate her.
Then she told herself that she was being ridiculous.
She refused to be intimidated by a young man who could not be older than twenty-eight or thirty and who was already under suspicion of behaving badly by the Elders of the Clan.
Torbot McBlane had not joined the party and she understood without being told that she would meet him again tomorrow when she received the Clan itself formally and, of course, the Elders.
Love Joins the Clans Page 5