by Riley Moreno
When Ilisa came to, she heard voices – rough and loud. Gradually a row of faces came into focus – men who were neither from the Grant nor MacDougall clans.
‘Who are you and where am I?’ Ilisa asked, acutely aware of the crushing pain in her shoulder. She shut her eyes and winced, as her efforts to sit up were thwarted by her condition.
‘We’re from the clan Campbell.’
Ilisa winced again, but this time because she was from clan MacDougall – bitter enemies of clan Campbell.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ she asked.
‘Would you rather we left you for the redcoats to rape and kill?’ One of the men answered roughly.
‘Thank you,’ Ilisa said, as her rescuer stared down at her, his eyes softening at the vulnerable picture she presented as she lay there - her cream coloured blouse ragged and stained with blood.
‘We know you are from clan MacDougall,’ the man said, and Ilisa gave him a nervous look. If she wasn’t injured she would have tried to escape, but she knew she was too weak to do anything other than lie there.
A woman bustled in. ‘Leave the lassie alone, will ye?’ she said, coming towards Ilisa with a bowl. ‘Here, you need to eat something lassie, or you will die from loss of blood, you will.’ She lifted Ilisa up and began to feed her porridge from the bowl.
‘Where is my family?’ Ilisa asked, through tiny mouthfuls of warm porridge, and the woman cast pleading eyes at the man who Ilisa guessed was her rescuer.
‘They’re all dead lass,’ the man said roughly, not mincing his words, ‘Killed by the redcoats.’
‘Why did you have to tell the lass that, Lachlan?’ the woman chided as Ilisa turned away to hide the tears that slipped down her blood stained cheeks. ‘Now she won’t eat her porridge and will get even weaker.’
‘Best she knows there’s nobody left to look after her, except us,’ Lachlan said, and left the room.
‘What is your name, lass?’ the woman asked Ilisa.
‘Ilisa. And yours?’
‘You can call me Aggie.’
‘Thank you for the porridge, Aggie,’ Ilisa said, ‘You are very kind.’
‘It doesn’t matter which clan you are from lass, we all need to band together against the redcoats.’
‘Would he think the same?’ Ilisa said, gesturing at the door.
‘You mean Lachlan? Aye he would. He talks harsher than he feels, does Lachlan.’
‘Who is he?’ Ilisa asked.
‘His father used to be laird of Innis Castle, but…’ Aggie stopped and looked anxiously at Ilisa.
‘I know,’ Ilisa said, ‘About the MacDougall clan ousting the Campbells from Innis Castle…and then clan Macdonnel taking it from the MacDougalls…and the MacDougalls reclaiming it.’
‘And now our Lachlan is determined to get it back.’
‘I see,’ Ilisa said, ‘I’m sorry about what the Macdougall clan did. It was before my time, however.’
‘You rest now lassie. Enough talk of clans and castles.’
Ilisa lay back and closed her eyes, overcome by weariness and sorrow at the loss of her family. She was unaware that Lachlan had returned to her room and watched her as she slept…slipping quickly out when she stirred.
It was dark when Ilisa awoke, only half aware that Aggie was bathing her wound and binding it with fresh bandages. She accepted another bowl of hot porridge -more from a desperate desire to regain her strength than from any real hunger – and thanked Aggie in between spoonfuls. After feeding her the porridge, Aggie went to work with a moist towel, working as much blood and grime out of her skin and hair as she could.
‘Are you sure that none of my family survived?’ Ilisa asked Aggie hopefully.
‘Lachlan said there were none left.’
‘Why was he even there?’
‘They were riding by. You know, when the redcoats strike, we clans spring forward to help each other – all differences laid aside. Sadly Lachlan and the other lads only came in after the redcoats’ bullets had done their damage. Lachlan was riding away when he saw you and came to the rescue.’
‘I’m not sure it’s such a good deed that he did - saving me to see a day when all my family had gone and I was the only one left.’
‘Hush now, don’t you be talking like that lassie,’ Aggie scolded.
Ilisa began to cry softly.
‘There there,’ Aggie said, stroking Ilisa’s hair until she slid back onto the pillows and fell asleep.
CHAPTER II
For Ilisa, the weeks that followed went by in a confused sequence of sleeping, waking to Aggie’s ministrations and tossing through troubled slumbers. In between she was aware of Lachlan’s visits whenever Aggie was attending to her – and grew to recognize his voice even when in a state of semi consciousness. It began to give her a sense of safety - hearing Lachlan, and recognizing him as the man who had saved her life. Despite herself she began to look forward to hearing his footsteps and the sound of his resonant voice as he entered the room where she lay recuperating.
One day she woke up to sunshine spilling in from her window and when she opened her eyes she saw that Aggie had thrown open the casement. Ilisa sat up, glad that she could now do so unaided, and gradually eased her body out from under the covers. She noticed she was wearing a clean white shift and that her bandages were off. Easing the shift back, Ilisa examined her shoulder and saw that the wound had healed well. She slowly moved her legs off the bed and onto the floor, wincing slightly when her bare feet hit the cold flagstones, but she was eager to look out of the window. She walked slowly, as if she had never used her legs before and was testing them out; realizing her body was stiff from so many days lying prone in bed, partly from weakness but mostly from sorrow.
‘Ah, my lass! I’m glad to see you’re out of your bed and looking out the window!’ Aggie said, coming in just as Ilisa was hesitantly peering through the casement. Below, in the castle yard, she could see fowl being chased by the kitchen staff, presumably to be cooked, and marvelled at how such simple, wholesome tasks continued to be performed, even as armies prepared for war and simmering emotions spilled over into the business of everyday life.
Ilisa turned around to greet Aggie, giving her a wan smile.
‘Thank you for taking care of me Aggie,’ Ilisa said.
‘I’ve got some nice hot water for you,’ Aggie said without preamble, ‘I think it will make you feel a lot better to take a bath.’
‘Yes,’ Ilisa said, ‘I think I am in need of a bath.’ More difficult though to wash the memories of the past few weeks away, she thought to herself.
‘Come on then,’ Aggie said briskly, leading her through a corridor, to the bath. Ilisa soon realized she hadn’t regained all of her strength yet, and that her shoulder was still stiff and painful. After watching her make a few pitiful attempts to wash her hair, Aggie took over.
‘Let me help you with this,’ she said, and began to wash Ilisa’s long tresses. ‘It will be a while more before you are fully healed, lass,’ Aggie said, scrubbing her back with a washcloth and soaping the skin around her wound. Ilisa said nothing, lying submerged in the tub, sudden warm tears mingling with the hot water as she thought sadly and longingly of her home.
‘Come on out now,’ Aggie instructed, and enveloped her in a thick towel. Then she helped her dress in fresh clothes – a plaid skirt and blouse with a shawl.
‘How long has it been since you put a comb through your hair, child?’ Aggie asked, as she dried Ilisa’s hair and combed out the tangles.
‘Longer than I remember,’ Ilisa said, sitting uncomplainingly still as the older woman patiently struggled with the knots in her hair.
‘There, doesn’t that look better?’ Aggie remarked with a sigh of satisfaction, taking Ilisa by the shoulders and walking her over to a mirror. Ilisa blinked at her reflection, seeing something of a stranger in the looking glass. Her face was pale, framed by her dark hair, and there were shadows under her grey-green eyes.
‘
You might feel odd for a while, this being a new place and all,’ Aggie said kindly, ‘But it will soon begin to feel more like home, I promise you.’
‘Thank you Aggie,’ Ilisa said, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
‘Now, I didn’t go through the trouble of getting you to take a bath just for you to get back in that bed. Oh no lassie! I want you out of this room so I can lay some fresh sheets on the bed. And while I do that, I want you to go out and get some sunshine on that beautiful but very pale face. You’ll have roses in your cheeks by the time I’ve finished with you!’
Ilisa managed a tiny laugh, though inside she felt cheerless and flat. But she followed Aggie’s advice and took a walk in the sunshine, unaware of how attractive she looked with her dark hair falling about her shoulders and her pale skin regaining its color in the warmth of the sun.
‘I’m glad to see you have ventured out of your room,’ Ilisa heard a familiar voice say, and looked up to see Lachlan walking towards her. ‘Aggie tells me you are much better. ’
The sun turned Lachlan’s hair to a blaze of golden red and his eyes were the color of a highland loch. Ilisa found it hard to meet his gaze, afraid that her eyes would convey how much at a disadvantage she felt in his presence. Her eyes were on a level with his powerful chest and broad shoulders, the sight of which made Ilisa even more bashful. ‘Yes, I am much better thank you,’ she answered, hoping that she had not turned too pink with embarrassment. She stole a look at his face – familiar now with the bronzed skin and handsome features that had drifted in and out of her vision while she lay tossing through bouts of disturbed sleep. He was tall and sturdy, with large capable hands that someone drew Ilisa’s attention. He had one on his hip now, and the other on the sword at his side. Ilisa looked briefly at his kilt, and the colours of Clan Campbell seemed to mock her.
Lachlan came right up to her, standing just a foot away, and looked down into her face, noting the heightened color in her cheeks; the fine features, light eyes and silky dark hair. ‘You have been through a lot of pain and I’m sorry,’ Lachlan said.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Ilisa said, ‘You did come… and try to help, for which I am grateful. Not every Campbell would be ready to help a MacDougall.’
‘We came too late,’ Lachlan said regretfully, and Ilisa was silent, recalling the carnage in her home.
‘Did…did you see…my people?’ she asked.
Lachlan raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I did not recognize the ones I saw. By the time we came, the redcoats had wreaked havoc and there was nothing we could do. I saw you only because I was the last to ride away.’
‘So you didn’t see the bodies of my parents or my brother and sister?’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I did not know them so I would not have been able to identify their bodies.’
Ilisa looked up at him, seeing the compassion in his eyes. ‘Could I go there – to my home? I’d like to see for myself…’
‘Do you know why the redcoats opened fire?’
‘I suppose it was because clan Macdougall and Clan Grant were meeting to discuss their plans to join hands with Bonnie Prince Charlie.’
‘Oh, your people were Jacobites?’
Ilisa bit her lip but shot Lachlan a fiery look. ‘Yes. Indeed they were. And proud to be so.’
‘It wasn’t wrong that they chose to fight against the King, but that they made their loyalties so apparent that the redcoats took their lives. These are dangerous times. It is best to keep one’s fealties to oneself and to confer in absolute secret whenever necessary.’
Ilisa looked away, the tears springing to her eyes as they so often did when she thought of how unnecessary the deaths of her family members were.
‘You would have been dead too – if you hadn’t been out in the paddock,’ Lachlan remarked.
‘Would that I had been in the house rather than trying to break in a horse,’ Ilisa said.
‘Why would you speak like that?’ Lachlan asked.
‘Because I don’t know what to do now – where to go; whose help to seek; whether to go back to my home…’
‘You may stay here as long as you wish,’ Lachlan said, ‘And certainly until you decide the course your future is to take.’
‘Thank you,’ Ilisa said, reluctantly admiring his broad muscular back as he strode away.
The sunshine seemed to have lost its appeal as Ilisa felt the weight of her problems upon her. She found Aggie in the kitchen, supervising the staff. ‘How may I help here?’ she said, looking at the stone counters strewn with vegetables and meat waiting to be chopped or cooked. ‘I wish to turn my mind upon something useful so that I may keep it from dwelling on such painful subjects as the death of my family.’
‘Kitchen work is not for the likes of you,’ Aggie said, leading her out from amidst the array of vegetables, meats, pots and pans.
‘Please – give me something to do…anything,’ Ilisa pleaded, or at least let me stay here with you. The warmth of the stovetops and ovens was comforting, and the aroma of food helped to alleviate the lingering memory of death and the smell of it.
Aggie looked resigned. ‘Come on then,’ she said, ‘you can learn how to pluck a fowl.’
Ilisa threw her an uncertain look, but was eager to please. However, Aggie soon realized that plucking fowls was not her ward’s forte, and coaxed her out of the kitchen. ‘Go explore the castle.’
‘Are you sure I’m allowed to?’
‘You’re a guest here child. Go!’
Ilisa wandered out of the kitchen, finding herself in another corridor. There seemed so many winding passages here in this castle, she thought, homesick for her simple homestead. The corridor was long and had rooms leading off from it. Ilisa peeped into each room that she passed – the vast dining room, an armory, a room with chairs and a fireplace, and then a room with books. She opened the door just a little further and stepped in, drawn to the tomes. She was fond of reading. She pulled a book off one of the shelves and began to turn the pages slowly, but stopped midway, aware of a pair of eyes on her.
‘You are fond of learning?’ Lachlan asked, coming in.
‘Yes, I am,’ Ilisa answered, replacing the book.
‘Why are you putting the book back?’
‘Oh, I think I should go back to my room,’ Ilisa said.
‘Stay. I will go,’ Lachlan replied.
‘Oh no! Please – do stay!’ Ilisa urged.
‘Only if you will,’ Lachlan said, throwing himself into a chair. ‘Sit down,’ he said. Ilisa sat down uncertainly.
‘These times of peace – they are few…and we must appreciate them,’ Lachlan said, ‘Before we know it we will be in the throes of another war.’
Ilisa was silent, contemplating the unlit fireplace - her hands folded in her lap. ‘I appreciate all that you and Aggie have done for me,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘but I face an uncertain future. I wish to return to my home – even to the emptiness. I need to know what there is left of it.’
Lachlan rose from his chair and came to a halt in front of her. She looked up at him apprehensively.
‘The redcoats set fire to your home,’ Lachlan said, ‘as a warning to all Jacobites of the fate they will meet should they dare to cross the King and side with Bonnie Prince Charlie.’
Ilisa sprang up from her chair. ‘They burned my home?’ she cried, ‘Is there nothing left of it?’
‘Nothing but an empty shell,’ Lachlan said, ‘I am sorry to be the one to bear such sad tidings.’
‘And how do you know of this?’
‘Because I rode back there with a few of our clansmen some days ago,’ Lachlan answered.
‘And now I have nothing left – no home, no family…’
Lachlan gave her a reassuring look. ‘We will try to do the best we can to make you feel at home here,’ he said. Ilisa looked at him, trying to focus on his face, his eyes, his strong shoulders and firm chest; the way he wore his kilt – anything to keep from dwelli
ng on the great void she felt within her.
Lachlan studied her face for a minute and then shocked her by what he said next. ‘I am aware of the enmity between our clans, but I am quite prepared to forget what has passed between Clan Campbell and Clan MacDougall… and to ask for your hand in marriage – to give you respectability and a new purpose in life.’
Ilisa’s eyes widened in shock and horror. ‘What? How can you even suggest something like that?’
‘Is the idea so loathsome?’
‘It is apalling. I do not even know how to react to your suggestion.’
‘Marriages of convenience are not uncommon in our land.’
‘Don’t people marry for love? Or shouldn’t they?’
‘Perhaps. But sometimes they marry because it is the right thing to do…under the circumstances.’
‘Are you asking for my hand out of pity for my circumstances?’Ilisa asked.
‘And would it be such a bad thing if I were doing that? I stand to benefit too. You are not unattractive and you are of good stock.’
‘You speak of me like I am a horse,’ Ilisa remarked distastefully.
‘I am merely making an observation that in every way you would make a good choice for a wife.’ His eyes roved over her body as he spoke.
‘And therefore you would ask for my hand?’
‘Yes…and I will expect an answer when we next meet,’ Lachlan said, as Ilisa rushed out, visibly distraught. She hurried to her room and sat down on the edge of her bed, fighting tears. She was an orphan, she thought to herself, tossed on the waves of circumstance… and the only way she could be assured of a future of any sorts was to wed a man she didn’t know at all. Aggie found her with her head in her hands, weeping uncontrollably.
‘Why do you weep so, child?’ She asked, ‘Is it because Lachlan made a suggestion that could only benefit your future?’
‘How do you expect me to marry someone I do not know at all, Aggie? How?’
‘Everyday in the highlands, lassies marry laddies they barely know and they make good lives together.’
‘He said I wasn’t unattractive and of good stock.’
‘And so you are,’ Aggie replied.