Heather Song

by Michael Phillips

  “What does the verse in question say?” Alasdair asked.

  “’Tis one o’ the most soarin’ thoughts e’er tae flow frae the great Apostle’s pen,” replied Ranald, his eyes aglow. “Whate’er be true, whate’er be honorable, whate’er be just, whate’er be pure, whate’er be lovely, whate’er be gracious, gien there be ony excellence, gien there be onythin’ at a’ worthy o’ praise, think aboot these things.’”

  “What a lovely verse,” I said. “But where would Alicia have gotten those words to come into her dream? I don’t recall ever seeing her reading a Bible.”

  “Nae doobt frae Iain,” replied Ranald. “’Twas ane o’ his favorite passages. He quoted it mony a time fae the pulpit. She must hae heard it fae him, an’ it must hae lodged in her subconscious tae lay there in readiness tae do its healin’ wark fan the time was richt. The words o’ the Buik’s miraculous wi’ their po’er tae heal. The music fae yer ain wee harpie, an’ the words o’ the Buik nae doobt fae Iain himself, bless the laddie, haunted her thoughts e’en in her sleep. Then God took them up as his weapons tae pull the dear lassie oot o’ the dark!”

  We all sat pondering the remarkable turnaround that had apparently taken place in Alicia.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ancient Passing of Power

  Braver field was never won,

  Braver deeds were never done;

  Braver blood was never shed,

  Braver chieftain never led.

  —Alexander Maclagen, “We’ll Hae Nane but Highland Bonnets Here”

  I went down to the kitchen and prepared hot tea, toast, cheese, and a few meats and brought them back upstairs on a tray. By now dusk was settling in. The storm still raged. Alasdair had added several logs to the fire, which was blazing up cheerily, and had convinced Ranald to stay the night at the castle. His chief concern was for his dogs. But, he said, if they got hungry, there were rats to be had in the barn.

  I brought in one tray, returned for the second, and we sat down to an enjoyable light tea.

  Ranald remained animated and determined to get to the bottom of what had happened.

  “There’s still mair mischief afoot,” he said as we chatted over our tea. “The roots o’ the thing maun gang back deeper yet. Is there onything mair ye can tell us, Duke, o’ yer family? There’s tales o’ an auld gran’mither, as I recall, wha had the po’er o’ the second sicht. I’m wunnerin’ gien that’s whaur some o’ Olivia’s nonsense came frae.”

  Alasdair became thoughtful. He related to Ranald the story about the visit he and Olivia had made to their grandmother on Skye that he had told me about before we were married.

  I snuggled closer to Alasdair and put my hand through his arm as I heard the story again. It was just as spooky as the first time.

  “I was frightened the instant I laid eyes on the old woman,” Alasdair was saying. “I knew she was my grandmother, but that made no difference. She had things hung around her neck and bracelets around her thin wrists. From that day till this, witches and snakes have filled me with an unaccountable dread.”

  “No’ athegither unacoontable, Duke,” said Ranald. “Ye may hae had ilka reason an’ right tae be unco feared oot o’ yer young wits. Ye may hae had mair a discernin’ speerit as a lad nor ye kennt.”

  “She was ancient beyond years,” Alasdair went on, “wrinkled and white. We were five and six at the time. She took to Olivia immediately.”

  Ranald nodded occasionally as he listened, taking in Alasdair’s story with obvious interest. His expression was serious.

  “Was yer mither wi’ ye at the time, Duke?” he asked after some time.

  Alasdair nodded. “I don’t recall her saying so much as a word, however. I think she was as intimidated by her mother-in-law as I was.”

  “I dinna athegither like the soun’ o’ the thing,” said Ranald. “It may be as I suspected. The auld woman may hae been the purveyor o’ the stronghold frae ane generation tae the ither. The thing begins tae bear some o’ the marks o’ a feminist speerit. ’Tis aye an ill one tae break on account o’ the pride o’ a woman’s no’ an easy thing tae contend wi’. ’Tis deep-rooted in the Scots blud all the way back tae the Picts wha chose their kings frae the line o’ women, no’ men. The warrier-lady Boadicea was fae the same speerit o’ Salome an’ her mither wha cost the good Baptist prophet his heid. Wasna athegither uncommon among ancient peoples—some o’ the American Indians had the same matriarchal custom in connection wi’ their kings. Sich a controllin’ speerit’s been the curse o’ true womankind e’er since, an’ the doonfall o’ mair nor one people, no’ tae mention Rome an’ Pictland. Yet nae e’en Salome or Herodias was the start o’ it, for we mauna forgit auld Jezebel hersel’, wha was the curse o’ Elijah. The thing gangs back as far as time itsel’, which is why ’tis sich a ill curse tae break. The aulder the stronghold, the deeper its roots. But we maun ken mair afore we ken gien that’s aye a’ o’ it. What happened wi’ the auld woman, Duke?”

  “Not much, actually,” Alasdair replied. “Nothing so frightening as all the talk of witches and demons and goblins and wolves, as Olivia later used to terrify me.”

  “Did the lass keep the object ye speik o’ that the woman gave her?” asked Ranald.

  “I can’t remember. I think she may have brought it home, now that you mention it. Seems I remember it in connection with some of her voodoo games.”

  “Div ye recall ony o’ what the auld woman said, Duke? Think hard, gien ye can.”

  “Not when she was talking in the old tongue. It was completely unintelligible. But after a while she began talking to Olivia in rhyme, though I had the sense she wasn’t really talking to Olivia, but almost…It seems strange to say it, but she seemed to almost be pronouncing a blessing or a benediction or some such thing over her.”

  “Aye…aye.” Ranald nodded seriously. “I haena doobt she was passin’ on a line o’ po’er oot o’ her druidic past, jist as it had come doon tae her. The speerit o’ matriarchy’s aye ane o’ the maist difficult strongholds o’ the generations tae break. It gits entrenched in the soil o’ a family’s line like a taproot o’ control, an’ it doesna want tae let loose o’ that control, an’ will fight like auld Jezebel hersel’ tae keep haud o’ it, an’ woe tae ony man that dares stand agin’ it, for then it’ll unleash the hatred o’ Salome an’ Herodias an’ do a’ in its po’er tae destroy him. Puir auld John wasna the enemy o’ King Herod. Nae, nae—the king wasna his problem, but the women. John set himself tae expose the speerit o’ their control, an’ paid for his courage wi’ his heid. A strong man is the mortal enemy o’ the feminist speerit. It canna bide sich a one. What did the auld woman say till the lassie, Duke?”

  “I can hardly remember, it’s been so many years. To tell you the truth, the whole thing was so unpleasant that I probably blocked it out of my mind.”

  “Try, Duke. ’Tis important.”

  “I seem to recall something about the younger ruling the older, though I may be thinking of Olivia. You remember, Marie,” he said, turning to me, “how I told you that rhyme about the elder dancing on the younger’s grave? I seem to remember Granny saying something like that. Isn’t there somewhere in Scripture—a younger stealing his brother’s birthright or some such thing?”

  “Aye—Jacob an’ Esau,” replied Ranald, sitting forward in his chair with yet heightened interest, “the twin sons o’ Isaac. The words say, ‘The twa shall be divided, the ane strang an’ the ither weak, an’ the elder shall serve the yoonger.’ ”

  “That’s it, Ranald!” exclaimed Alasdair. “That’s it exactly. How did you know? That is just what the old woman said. I can hear it suddenly as plain as day. She muttered the words, then pulled out a rosary from around her neck and began to chant strange verse, exactly as Olivia does. Let me see, some of her words begin to come back…”

  Alasdair thought a moment, then slowly began to speak.

  “‘In our clan, woman rules man,’” he said. “Yes, that was one of them. Let
me see…‘By the power of the tongue, the old serves the young’…and, ‘Let curse be the tool, by which you rule.’ ”

  Alasdair’s face lit up still more and he nodded.

  “Yes…it’s coming back. The words sound juvenile as I say them, but in her ancient terrifying voice, to the timid boy I was as I stood listening, I thought I was in the presence of a real live witch. The feeling of dread was indescribable. It was as if her words were coming down out of the sky like thunder.”

  “Or bubbling up from some lower place, in a’ likelihood,” rejoined Ranald.

  “Suddenly I remember a whole string of them,” Alasdair went on. “‘Havoc will wreak, from words you speak.’ It’s all exactly what Olivia did…the same singsong kinds of phrases. I could not rid my brain of them. Look at how I remember them after, what has it been, forty years. And her words portended exactly what happened. Olivia wreaked havoc. Everyone was afraid of her. The whole thing is remarkable now that it comes back to me.”

  “Was Olivia making up verses and speaking hexes and curses before then?” I asked.

  “No,” replied Alasdair. “It was after the trip to Skye when it all began.”

  Ranald shook his head. “’Tis an ill thing,” he said in mounting annoyance. “The auld demoness!” he added. I could see anger rising in his eyes. “God forgie her listenin’ tae the lyin’ de’il an’ spreadin’ the mischief o’ her feminine pride tae an innocent lass that kennt nae mair hoo tae fight it than she wud ken hoo tae stop the sun fae risin’.”

  Suddenly the words of Gaelic I had heard in his cottage exploded from his lips again like a great invective denunciation against the evil powers of the universe.

  “A teanga a’ diabhuil mhoir, tha thu ag dèanamh breug! ” Ranald cried. “By the po’er o’ God Almighty, Creator o’ the heavens an’ the earth, may the roots o’ the matriarchal speerit be broken o’er this hoose an’ its family! Lord Jesus Christ, fill this hoose an’ a’ wha enter it wi’ the licht o’ yer life an’ po’er, an’ may the Father o’ Lichts rule wi’ his goodness an’ truth an’ love.”

  At least I had witnessed the like before and was halfway prepared for it. But Alasdair sat staring at Ranald with eyes as round as plates. He had never seen or heard anything like this in his life.

  We sat in silence for a minute or two. The atmosphere calmed and conversation resumed. It was Alasdair who spoke first.

  “Poor Gwendolyn had to live with that darkness all her life,” he said. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did, Marie…for rescuing her.” He let out a long sigh. “But why, Ranald, if all you say is true,” he went on, turning to Ranald, “was I not permanently scarred by all that devilish business, in the same way Alicia must have been if it nearly drove her to take her own life?”

  “The answer may surprise ye, Duke,” replied Ranald. “It may be because ye learned tae lauch at it. Ye didna let it intil ye—all the way inside yer soul. Olivia’s frien’s did. They alloo’d it tae take root. The de’il’s got nae mair po’er nor we gie him. Ye didna let Olivia’s words gie him po’er o’er ye. E’en my ain Winny was guilty o’t, an’ it cost the puir lassie her life. I dinna doobt there’s mair areas o’ yer life whaur ye didna hae sae good a time o’ it, as is true wi’ us a’. But agin’ yer auld Granny’s mischief, ye battled agin’ the speerit wi’oot kennin’ what ye were doin’, sendin’ the words o’ Olivia’s curses awa’ fae ye rather than takin’ them intil ye. Ye may had been frightened for a season when ye was yoong, but as ye grew ye learned that she couldna control ye. Learnin’ that, ye learned tae lauch fan Olivia’s frien’s an’ many o’ the folk in the village were feared o’ her. Their fear was their ain doonfall. By fearin’ what she said, they embraced her words an’ opened the door intil their ain herts for the curse tae enter. Her words took root in them, an’ she controlled them. Ye were a speeritual warrior, Duke, e’en as a lad, wi’oot kennin’ it. It may hae protected ye from great harm.”

  “It is difficult to absorb what you say, Ranald.” Alasdair laughed. “My reputation has never been as a spiritual giant! Just ask anyone. Ask Reddy Barclay!”

  “Gie yersel’ time, Duke,” Ranald said and smiled. “The Speerit o’ God’s on a unique timetable o’ revelation wi’ us a’. Ye may surprise yersel’ yet. I ken ye had some difficult years, but it may hae been that the Lord was protectin’ ye through those years mair nor ye kennt, an’ it may be that lauchin’ at yer sister’s wiles gae ye a speeritual strength ye didna ken was there, an’ that may stand ye in guid stead afore ye’re dune.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for that, Ranald.”

  Ranald cast me a glance and a smile, as if to say, The man’s a’ right, lass, an’ he’ll be wi’ us hert an’ soul afore lang.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breaking the Spell

  For thou hast delivered my soul from death,

  mine eyes from tears,

  and my feet from falling.

  I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.

  —Psalm 116:8–9

  Alicia was herself in a day or two.

  Actually, she was more than herself. She was newly liberated from an oppression she had not even realized had hovered over her all her adult life. It could not be helped that things began to change with the other ladies as well.

  As the Thursday of the next ensemble meeting of my little group of harp ladies drew closer, I sensed that something was weighing on Alicia’s mind. It was she who finally brought it up.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question, Marie?” she said.

  “No, certainly not…Go ahead.”

  “Do you think I ought to tell the others…you know, about everything that happened, that you now know about Olivia and her strange ways, and the curses and hexes…about my dream and everything? It’s been plaguing me. I don’t know what they might think. Adela especially is still devoted to Olivia. She would do anything Olivia told her.”

  “I had no idea they were still so close.”

  “I don’t know if close is exactly the word I would use. But if I told them everything, it would not surprise me if she was on the Bluebird the next morning into Aberdeen to give Olivia a full report.”

  “What would Olivia do?”

  “I don’t know, maybe contact the others and resume her tales about you and the duke, and now include me and try to discredit me as well. Ever since I went to work here at the castle, I have been on the outs with her anyway. This would give her the excuse she needs to attack me. It would be subtle, of course. That’s Olivia’s way—she is a master of subtlety and innuendo. Nothing so obvious as her childhood hexes as she passed a house of someone she didn’t like. Her methods have become much more skilled through the years, and even more devious.”

  “Does the thought of it frighten you?” I asked.

  “A little, I suppose. She is a formidable person. But I am tired of living under the cloud of fear of her.”

  “Good for you—I am glad to hear it, Alicia. That was the whole point of the dream, wasn’t it, that you felt yourself free from fear?”

  Alicia smiled and nodded. “But Olivia’s hold on my thoughts is so powerful. It’s been there so long, it is hard to break free from it.”

  “But you are breaking free. And you are glad, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I really am. But it doesn’t go away all at once. So do you think I should tell the others?”

  “That will have to be your decision, Alicia,” I replied. “All I can say is that light and truth are always the way forward. Do you want to live in light, where things are exposed and out in the open and seen for what they are, or in darkness, where things remain hidden—as you called it, under a cloud?”

  “I think you’ve helped me answer my own question.” Alicia smiled. “You’re right—Olivia’s way was secrets, threats, shadows, uncertainties, fears, insinuations. No, I don’t want to live in that murky world where you never know which way is up.”

  I hoped it wasn’t duplicit
ous, or, if it was, it was justifiably so, to bring Alasdair in on what Alicia planned to do. Because of his initial doubts about the ladies coming to see me, and after our little dustup in the corridor, I wanted him fully aware of what was going on in Alicia’s attempt to break the bonds of Olivia’s influence. I mentioned to him the possibility, if he thought it appropriate, that he might listen in—very quietly!—on our ensemble music from the other side of the room divider, from where he had first heard my harp. Sort of a command performance in reverse! I would have preferred to invite him to participate openly. He was as much a part of the whole thing as any of the rest. But with him present, I was afraid the others would only clam up.

  When Thursday came, Alicia was agitated but eager, nervous about what would be the response, but still convinced it was the right thing to do. It was the next step forward, we both agreed, in the healing of the scars of the past.

  We had our harp ensemble practice, then Alicia came into the studio with tea and cakes. I looked toward her. Our eyes met with a smile.

  “Alicia has something she would like to share with the rest of you,” I said, “something she believes represents an exciting change in her life, but which may be the last thing you expect.”

  From my buildup, I think they thought she was about to announce that she was engaged or something!

  Alicia poured tea for everyone, then sat down. The others waited expectantly.

  “It is hard to know where to start,” Alicia began at length. “Marie and I went for a walk two or three weeks ago, up Crannoch Bin. It was the day before the big storm. A lot of things happened. I don’t know how else to say it but that I became confused and went out in the rain. I know it sounds bizarre, but I really believe I lost my mind for a few hours. I became so possessed by fear—fear of Olivia and her words and her threats and all those awful verses and rhymes she always said. I hadn’t realized what a hold they still had on me and how controlled I had been by them. It was a dreadful day. I nearly wound up taking my own life.”