by Alisa Adams
“Ye are kind,” Cat said happily. “None of ye has minded me short boy hair.” She frowned. “It doesnae seem to want to grow back,” Cat said self-consciously as she lightly touched her hair. Her words hung in the air. They were filled with worry and were almost a question.
“Och,” Neely said adamantly, “I think it is lovely. Ye are lovely, me friend.”
Cat reached out and hugged her tightly, catching Neely by surprise. But then Neely smiled and hugged her back.
“Ye must stay at Brough for as long as ye like,” Neely whispered as she hugged her tightly with her cheek pressed against Cat’s pale hair. “Dinnae let yer Uncle Keir take ye back unless ye want to. We will be with ye, whatever ye decide.”
“Thank ye,” Cat whispered back to her.
Neely held her tightly in the hug. “Me da taught me a hug can heal many things.” She let go of Cat. “I know many people call me angry, or annoying, but I have many hugs to give.”
Cat smiled at her. “I know ye. Ye are fierce and loyal to those ye love. That anger is yer fierceness for yer loved ones. Ye are well matched with Mentieth!”
Steil strode silently by them, giving them a glance with an eyebrow raised as he passed by.
Cat and Neely linked arms and followed the big Highlander.
Neely watched his big shoulders as he walked, and her eyes traveled down his kilt to his muscular legs. She sighed, enjoying him without him knowing.
Cat nudged her hard, and Neely blushed.
That evening they gathered in the tower at the table in front of the fireplace.
“I smell food,” Keir said as he rubbed his stomach.
Cat sat down. “Who cooked? Werenae we all busy?”
Kaithria brought a large pot from the hearth to the table. “I did,” she said quietly. “Keir and Steil got us rabbits this morn. I made pottage.” She spoke in a low, calming, peaceful voice. “Swan needs to eat something nutritious and filling to feed the bairn growing within her.” She set the heavy pot on the table.
Neely looked over at Swan. “How many times did ye lose yer stomach today?”
Swan smiled crookedly. “Och, only twice. And I am hungry! I slept the day away. Forgive me Kaithria, for leaving it all up to ye.”
“Och, Lady Swan,” Kaithria said gently. “’Twas happy I am to do this for ye.”
“Just Swan, Kaithria. Things are different now, I keep telling ye.”
Cat chirped in, “Well noo, I for one am vera hungry as well, and it smells wonderful. What is in it besides rabbit?” She stopped, her eyes startled, “Och, me poor donkey! We are eating rabbit, and I have named me donkey Rabbit. ’Tis terrible!”
Kaithria started ladling the thick hot pottage into bowls. “Perhaps ye should call her Bunny instead,” she spoke softly, as she ladled and passed a bowl to each person at the table.
Before she finished making sure everyone had a bowl, Keir pushed his bowl back in front of her with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile that made his dimple even more pronounced.
“Yes?” she said to the handsome Highlander.
“I want more,” he said with a charming smile.
“And?” Kaithria said quietly in her husky voice.
“And what?” he asked innocently as he smiled.
“Dinnae be trying to charm more pottage from me, Lord Keir,” Kaithria said evenly in her soft voice. “Ye’ll wait until the others have gotten theirs before ye have a second helping. And ye’ll say please.”
Everyone at the table stilled. No one had heard Kaithria speak more than a few words, much less to the men.
Keir looked around the table. Then he glanced at Kaithria’s blushing face. The others were making her uncomfortable, or he had. “What?” he asked of the table. “She is correct, of course, ’twas rude of me not to ask politely.”
Kaithria blushed even brighter and was staring nervously at Keir.
Neely came to Kaithria’s rescue. “Dinnae apologize Kaithria.” Neely smiled at her. “Now, tell us Kaithria, this is braw! What is in it that makes it so vera tasty?”
“I found yer gardens; yers and Lady Swan’s. I picked some kale and there were some herbs and root vegetables growing as well. Your bannock bread is light and delicious, Neely. Thank ye for making it.”
“’Tis the most delicious meal I have tasted in a vera long time,” Cat said with a sigh as she sipped another spoonful and ate a piece of the bannock. “The most horrid, bland food has been forced on me and this is just scrumptious.”
“’Twas thoughtful of ye to think of supper when we were all off doing things,” Neely said as she sighed over another spoonful. “And the bread was nothing. ’Tis simple to make quick bread.”
Steil looked up from his bowl. “The bannock is good, perfect for soaking up the pottage. I thank ye Kaithria, and ye Neely, for making this meal.” He held up his glass of whisky from the smugglers' crate to them.
“I simply cannae believe I slept the day away,” Swan said guiltily.
“And I was lying on the beach in the sun, getting pink all over,” Cat said merrily.
Keir and Steil looked at her. “What was that?” Keir asked his niece.
“Och, nothing Uncle.” Cat turned to Neely and Steil. “Tell us more about yer walk to the village, please?”
Steil told Keir and the others about the sighting of the smuggler who led the horse with a belly canteen dummy sitting on its back, through the village of Brough.
Kaithria, Swan, and Cat thought it was fascinating, with Cat asking question after excited question about the belly canteen.
Keir listened closely with narrowed eyes.
“We are going to go back to that part of the beach to have a better look tomorrow,” Neely told them.
“Aye, and I think I will take watch this evening, down that way,” Keir said quietly. “I doubt he’ll be back this eve, but one cannae be certain.”
“If he is headed to any villages to sell the whisky, he will have a long journey, Keir,” Steil said. “He’ll not be back until before sunset tomorrow, I am sure.”
“Aye, but who else may be afoot? That's what I am wondering now,” Keir said slowly. At a boom of thunder and a crack of lightning, Keir changed his mind.
After the meal, the women prepared their tartans for sleep and settled in.
Keir and Steil went up the staircase to the second floor of the tower. They stood looking out over Brough where the roof was still open. “’Tis black as pitch,” Steil said.
“Aye,” Keir agreed. “There’ll be no one moving aboot tonight, without even the moon to see by, no one would chance a drop of the cliffs.”
It started raining shortly thereafter, pouring in onto the second floor as thunder and lightning lit the skies. The men were forced to come back down to the first floor.
Keir found a spot and laid down on his tartan. Steil noted he lay on the side of the tower near where Kaithria was.
Steil looked over to Neely’s form where she lay under her tartan. He watched as her body jumped with another crack of lightning and she pulled the tartan over her head with a soft squeal.
Steil looked over at his sister Swan; both she and Cat were sound asleep.
He walked over to where Neely lay. He stood there a moment, hesitating. He knew that he didn’t usually sleep well. His sleep was too often haunted by his dreams and many a time he had woken up swinging and calling out to his men, thinking he was back in battle.
He watched as Neely squealed quietly again when another boom of thunder shook the air.
He sighed and made a decision.
Steil spread his tartan on the floor beside Neely and laid down, wrapping himself in the warm wool blanket. He backed himself up to her shivering body and closed his eyes. He felt her move. He knew she raised her head to see him there. Then he felt her lay back down and carefully wiggle herself up against his heat.
Steil looked around for his men. There was smoke and the red glare from the cannons firing, blocking his vision. All he could hear
was the screams of horses and men. What were they doing in this land so far from Scotland? He needed to bring his men home. Alive. But they were following the orders of their English king.
He looked frantically left and right, seeing his men fall all around him. He tried to run to the nearest fallen man, but his legs were caught in the wet mud at his feet. He stared at his feet; it was mud that ran with the blood of his men, flooding over his boots. It was trying to suck him down into the earth. He looked down in horror. The faces of his men stared back up at him out of the bloody muck, looking up sightlessly with dead eyes. He pulled and pulled at his feet, calling out their names.
He could hear them calling him. Urgently, over and over.
He felt one of them wrap an arm around his waist to pull him free, heard the voice talking softly in his ear.
“Steil! Please, come back to me,” the voice pleaded.
He moved towards the voice. Warm arms surrounded him, pulled him away from the mud and death and screams. Held him tightly and stroked his face and hair.
He felt feathery kisses across his cheeks and his mouth.
He recognized the smell and the taste of those lips, and finally recognized the voice...
He opened his eyes and blinked several times. He was staring into familiar, dove-grey eyes.
“Neilina,” he said hoarsely. He was exhausted, for he had been far, far away. In his nightmare.
“Shhhh,” Neely said gently as she looked into his tortured blue eyes.
She watched as he tried to form words, to come all the way back. She moved her fingers tenderly across his jaw, stroked his cheeks, and moved her hand through the hair at his temples. “Shhh,” she said again. “I am here with ye. I have ye. Sleep, mo ghraidh, sleep.”
His eyelids grew heavy.
She held him in her arms until she felt his body relax, and his breathing grow steady and slow with sleep.
Then and only then did she close her eyes and fall asleep, still holding him tightly.
12
Neely woke up with tight muscles, but she was warm. Contentedly warm. She lifted her head and looked down into Steil’s face. The harsh planes of his cheeks and square, firm jaw were relaxed. His dark lashes fanned out, concealing his beautiful eyes. His breathing was even and relaxed as he slept on.
She hated to disturb his sleep, so she slowly and gently disentangled her legs from his, scooting her own out from under his thigh, then she lifted his heavy arm off of her waist. At some point in the night, in their sleep, they had become entangled.
Neely’s arms were stiff from holding Steil most of the night. But she felt happy.
She slowly lifted their tartans and scooted out from under the warm woolen blankets, carefully retucking them back around Steil’s sleeping form.
She passed Swan, who was in a deep sleep, as was Keir.
She tiptoed out of the castle after taking a few oatcakes and putting them in her skirt pocket. She made her way towards the pasture of black geldings. “Dia dhaoibh ar maidin,” she called quietly to Mentieth. “Guid morn to ye,” she repeated.
She watched with a smile as the horse looked up and nickered softly under his breath to her. He started trotting slowly towards her.
Neely noted with pride that his black coat was becoming glossy again. She had been brushing him daily. He still tugged at her sleeve or her tartan or her hair, but now she knew he was not the ferocious monster she had originally thought.
She pictured this horse in battle, thinking back to what Beak said about Teeth. He had carried his rider through his last battle, having been shot by many arrows. He had never stopped, fighting on with those arrows still in him. He still had the scars from them on his powerful haunches. He also still had patches of missing hair where he had been burned severely by cannon fire. Aye, his fur may be patchy in areas, but in others it gleamed almost blue-black with her care.
Pride and love for the old battle horse welled within her as she thought of what had happened on the road to Brough. When those thieves had stopped her and the other women on the road and one of the twins had tried to grab her. She had screamed out her horse's name. Mentieth immediately sensed her fear; laying his teeth into the closest of the twins, he shook him back and forth. Even while the vile man was beating on her poor horse’s head.
Neely hugged his big head, inhaling the sweet smell of horse and green grass. Teeth nuzzled her hair and neck, and pulled lightly on her sleeve.
Neely just hugged him tighter, as tears came to her eyes. “I am blessed to have ye,” she whispered to him. “I am sad ye lost yer rider, but I am hoping ye are as glad as I am that I am yer new partner.” She wiped a small tear from her eye. “I know ye must miss the great warrior that rode ye. I know the two of ye were vera fierce in battles. Legends ye were. I hope yer life will be slower now, just sun and fresh green grass. Like yer old rider wanted for ye. With no terrible battles or arrows or cannon fire for ye. Or screams of injured men, ” she added, thinking of Steil, and the horrors that man and beast had to carry with them forever after.
The horse nuzzled his black nose against her again, pushing at her shoulder.
“Aye, I know. We fought our own battle and ye were magnificent. Ye saved me Teeth, ye did, truly.” She kissed his nose and he nickered softly, quietly. “Me? Oh thank ye. Yes, I suppose I saved ye too. Banging me golf club on that scunner's head. He was beating ye!”
Neely led the horse out of the pasture. She stayed near Teeth, away from the castle tower. She brushed him and then shared some of her oatcakes before she saddled and bridled him.
“Now then, shall we try what we have been working on?” Neely said to Teeth. She tapped his front lower leg with her toe. Teeth bent the leg she had touched, putting his knee to the ground. He slowly lowered his big shoulders, bending his long, arched neck with the top of his nose, almost touching the ground, as if giving an elegant bow to her. Neely clapped her hands and hurried to his side. She easily threw her leg over the big horse. She settled into her saddle as Teeth heaved himself back up to all four feet. Neely petted and crooned to the horse, letting him know how much she appreciated him.
“Where are we going?” Cat said gaily as she walked past Neely to get Old Inch from the pasture as well.
Kaithria walked up behind Cat and went into the pasture to get Dummy. “Aye, where are we going?”
Neely watched them gather their horses. They were retired battle horses as well. Neely had a newfound respect for these “old men.”
Dummernech had been involved in a siege, going for days without food. He still managed to carry his half-dead rider all the way back home. When he arrived with his rider slumped over his neck, the black war horse was naught but skin and bones. The big black horse had found his way back, though his legs were shaking and his eyes were sunken in when he arrived. Dummernech was certainly no Dummy, though that is what he was lovingly called.
And Old Inch had taken arrows to his chest and continued on. He had also pulled cannons in the battlefield for his rider. Standing steadily by his rider as the booming cannons were fired and red embers floated in the air, burning him. But still he stood, loyaly, by his rider.
Neely stared at the two women as they hurriedly saddled their horses, determined not to be left behind. She shook her head with a grin.
“I have an idea that I want to go look into,” Neely said. “The ancient brochs near the village. I have never checked them.” She arranged her skirts over her legs and Teeth’s back. “I think we should see if they are being used for storage of contraband. Or...anything else,” she added.
The brochs had been there from the times of the ancient Picts. The hollow structures made of stone were mostly in ruins, open to the air and the elements, but Neely thought they could still be made useful if someone was handy.
Like her da.
She had just mounted Teeth's back and was walking him away from the castle when he stopped, throwing his head in the air and neighing loudly.
“Shhh, shhh, Te
eth! What is the matter with ye?” Neely asked the horse as she patted his neck soothingly.
Old Inch and Dummy were doing the same thing with Kaithria and Cat.
“Whatever is the matter with them?” Cat said as Old Inch spun around, back towards his pasture.
The girls heard a sharp crack of wood. The solid wooden gate to the pasture splintered and bounced open.
Out trotted the tiny, white donkey.
Teeth neighed happily to the little creature, lowering his head and sniffing at her when she came right up to him.
Old Inch and Dummy gently lowered their big heads and greeted her as well.
Neely watched with her mouth open.
“They want Bunny to come with us,” Cat said with delight.
Kaithria raised an eyebrow at Cat. “Bunny then?”
Cat nodded her head. “Aye, ye were right, Bunny is much better a name for her than Rabbit. We eat rabbits.” Cat wrinkled her nose. “We dinnae eat bunnies though,” she said with a smile.
Neely sighed loudly. “Seems they have become steadfast friends.” She looked over at Kaithria and Cat and grinned broadly. Then she heaved out an exaggerated sigh. “Vera well then, let’s go. Bunny mustna hold us back though!”
The three tall horses, with their dramatic manes and flowing black feathers around their feet, walked happily off with the tiny donkey trotting regally alongside.
When Neely asked everyone to pick up a trot as they moved away from the castle, the old battle horses eagerly picked up their elaborate and majestic, slow trot. The little donkey tried to imitate them and the girls laughed, praising her efforts.
“Do we dare canter?” Neely called out. “Can little Bunny keep up if we do?”
Cat called back, “Let’s try!”
And so they nudged their horses into a canter. Bunny flew across the fields, trying to keep up. But she couldn’t and started a pitiful braying.
The three old geldings immediately slowed down to a trot and then a walk. Bunny ran up to them, braying quietly and plaintively as if to tell them all how upset she was that they had left her behind. She pranced between the three black horses and even managed to trot right under Old Inch’s belly.