Heather Song

by Michael Phillips

  “‘Afraid? Are you afraid, Winny?’ mocked Olivia. ‘Then tremble, Winny, when I look in your eye…and know our secret—it is here you die. Ha! Ha!’ She laughed to see what fear she could cause in her friends. She was so cruel to them, yet they remained with her. We were all afraid to stand up to her, though Alasdair gradually did.”

  “Who were they talking about?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Some boy Olivia was keen on. She was insanely jealous of Winny and all her other friends.”

  “What did you do?”

  “We waited awhile, then explored some more. But what we had heard took the fun out of it. We knew what it was like to be afraid of Olivia. And though we might not have been in love with her, we liked Winny. We were furious at what Olivia had said to her, but afraid at the same time. We left the cave and returned to our boat and shoved off. By now the tide had about turned.

  “As we rowed into Sunnyside Cove, we looked up. There stood Olivia on the top of the cliff—alone—staring down at us. She had heard our voices, too, coming up from the cave below. Winny was far ahead of her along the headland by now, hurrying back toward Crannoch, probably thinking Olivia was chasing her and running for her life.

  “We hauled the boat in and started up the path. When we reached the top out of breath, Olivia was waiting for us. The look on her face was sinister and malicious.

  “‘Olivia,’ said Alasdair, ‘is Winny all right? It sounded like she fell.’

  “The only answer she gave was a cold stare first at her brother, then over at me. ‘You will tell no one what you heard, or that you were here, or that I was here—do you understand?’ She stared at us with an evil look. ‘If you do not vow silence, I will run back and tell exactly what I saw—the two of you here with your boat…the two of you and poor dear Winny Bain. Everyone will believe me, because I will make them believe me. I will be crying and sobbing and begging them to come help, telling them that you tried to hurt her and throw her off the cliff and tormented her until she promised to make up a story about me.’

  “As she stared at us, she began to mumble the words of some incantation or other that paralyzed us both. ‘Vow here and now,’ she said, ‘under penalty of death, that to none other will you divulge what you heard.’ Then she pointed a finger straight at us and spoke one of her rhyming curses—‘Speak no word of what you have seen—take heed…or you will be blamed for the evil deed.’ Then she turned, walked a few paces to the field of wheat alongside the cliff, tore off a handful of stalks, walked back, and tossed them straight into our faces. Alasdair stood like a statue.

  “We knew well enough that if anything happened to Winny, blame would naturally fall on us. Alasdair and I were already viewed as nickums and scamps. She had such a way about her—she could make anyone believe anything. In the end she extracted a promise from both of us not to tell, then stared at us with the look of the evil eye and chanted a few more incantations that held us spellbound.

  “A few minutes later we watched Olivia walk slowly away as if she hadn’t a care in the world. At last we retrieved the horse and the boat and made our way back in silence. Of course, as nothing came of it, and Winny was fine, we gradually forgot about it…until four or five years later when Winny disappeared. Then we remembered.”

  “But you said nothing?”

  “What could we say? There was no proof.”

  “Did you ever tell Ranald?”

  “I did, later. He said the same thing, that we could not accuse Olivia knowing nothing for certain. And despite the circumstances, my promise haunted me. As a man who has made truth my life, I wrestled with what a promise to someone like Olivia meant. More times than I can tell you, I chastised myself for being so weak, even as a boy, for not having the courage to stand up to her threats. Ranald’s Margaret suspected from the first that Olivia was responsible for Winny’s disappearance, and was a little too outspoken about it.”

  “Was your threat of revealing what you had heard the reason Olivia allowed Gwendolyn to see Alasdair?”

  “More or less. I did not go into detail. I only asked her if she wanted the community told of the Findlater incident and the curse she had spoken, now that I was a curate and Alasdair a duke. I said that she might not be able to quite so easily manipulate the story as when we were lads. She was full of threats. But I told her I was willing to put my curacy on the line and reveal what I had heard that day. If she pressed the matter, I would take my chances in the court of public opinion. She was furious, but she backed down. I thought that was the end of it. I didn’t dream that her evil would come after you. That’s why I say I now wonder if I should not have stayed away so long.”

  Iain let out a long sigh.

  “I also find myself wondering about Fiona’s death. Alasdair once hinted that he suspected Olivia might have given Fiona something.”

  “I never heard a word of it from him,” I said.

  “He said that Olivia always knew he was sickly. She always resented him—resented his being a man and knowing he would inherit. But she knew also that she would in all likelihood outlast him and that the castle would come to her eventually. But then Fiona threw a spanner into her plans. The moment Alasdair married, Olivia had to get rid of Fiona. At least that’s what Alasdair wondered.”

  “What about Gwendolyn?”

  “It would also explain why Olivia took Gwendolyn. Even if Gwendolyn should inherit, Olivia would still possess control. Once Gwendolyn’s condition became known, all Olivia had to do was be patient. Thus she made certain that rumors about Alasdair circulated freely—even haunting him and coming to him at night with curses and potions—”

  “I can still hardly believe that. What exactly did he tell you abut it?” I asked.

  “Alasdair said that Olivia would sneak into the castle and come right into his bedroom and threaten evil things. He was convinced she was trying to make him go insane. She had done so even in their childhood, chanting the words of the old druidic curse while beating a blood-soaked rag—”

  “What were the words?” I asked.

  “Just an old Morayshire curse…nothing you would want to hear.”

  “I do want to hear it. Tell me, Iain, please.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, tell me.”

  “All right. It’s just this…‘I beat this rag upo’ the stane, to raise the win’ in the de’il’s name. It shall nae fa’ till I please again.’”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “It’s just mumbo-jumbo. The Highlands are full of such from ancient times. That curse, I think, originated with some druid calling on his power to raise the wind. Later it became a chant used by witches to invoke the curse of insanity. Coupled with it was the old tradition that a wisp of straw flung in the face of an enemy along with the curse caused raving madness. That’s what the straw in our faces was about. She literally thought she had the power to make people go mad. It was all calculated to get Olivia what she wanted in the end, which was complete control of the Buchan estate.”

  I shook my head as I listened in disbelief.

  “What is it, Marie?” Iain asked.

  I told him of the similar experience and dream I’d had after Alasdair’s death.

  “I thought I was dreaming of a ghost haunting the castle,” I said. I shivered briefly. “I never did understand the scraps of straw on my duvet the next morning. Do you think…I mean, is it possible?…Could she have actually snuck into my room, too?”

  “It would not surprise me. She may even then have been hatching a plan to get rid of you for good.”

  I shuddered at the thought.

  “Did Alasdair tell you about their grandmother—the witch woman from Skye?” I asked.

  “No, I know nothing about her.”

  “It ties into all this,” I said. I went on to relate to Iain the story of their visit to Skye as Alasdair had recounted it to me.

  Iain shook his head as he listened. “That is undoubtedly where the curses and many of the
family strongholds originated. Or, if not originated, she must certainly have given them added power. I have little doubt that is where Olivia learned it, from the old woman, especially the straw and chant about the rag. It is straight out of old Highland superstition. As it turned out,” he went on, “as in God’s economy I think may always be the case, all her curses, even the chant invoking insanity, ultimately came back on Olivia’s own head. She always tried to bind others to her secrets and maintain a hold over them with her rhymes. Yet, one by one, most have been freed from them, thank God, while it turns out Olivia’s prophecies came back against her. There is one I remember vividly, though I cannot recall the circumstances when she spoke it: ‘Do not forget, nor heed the curse…lest your own fate become far worse.’ What she was actually doing without knowing it was speaking curses down on her own head. Alicia and the others, they are living lives of wholeness. They have broken those bondages. But poor Olivia’s fate did indeed become worst of all. One even wonders if some physical ailments have origins in such demonic strongholds out of the past.”

  “Iain,” I said, “what do you think happened to Winny?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Iain sighed, shaking his head. “She was never able to escape Olivia’s wiles. Somehow, through one of the two tunnels, either through the castle or from Findlater, Olivia must have lured her into the crypt. The way to the sea blocked up as it is, it seems they must have snuck in from the castle, where Olivia trapped her just as she did you. But we will never know for certain.”

  “With all those terrible curses swirling so close,” I said, “and all Olivia’s schemes against her father, why wasn’t Gwendolyn affected when she was with Olivia most of her life?”

  “I have thought about that,” said Iain reflectively. “I believe her very innocence was her protection. There is no discounting the Lord’s hand in it as well. Though she was raised by Olivia, God protected her spirit and kept her pure. As she grew, I believe she contributed her own share to the resisting of evil within her. There are many ways to break demonic strongholds. Coming against them by the power of God’s Word is certainly one. A stronghold of the enemy has only the power we give it. If we stand against it, and repudiate it by whatever means, it has no power over us. You have to look it in the eye and rebuke it, break it, grind it under your feet, and boldly say, ‘You have no more power over me.’ Obedience accomplishes that. Humility accomplishes that. Innocence accomplishes that. In a way, Alasdair broke it by love for you, and by his own determination to grow and change. There are many weapons God gives us to fight evil and produce wholeness. Gwendolyn broke the power of the family stronghold in her life by simple humble innocence and obedience.”

  We sat another few minutes in silence, allowing our minds to return to more pleasant things by gazing out over the sea. Finally we rose and left Iain’s private sanctuary in the side of the hill.

  “I’m sorry, but I have one more question,” I said as we walked back to Iain’s car. “Don’t answer it if you don’t want to. I trust you, but knowing of his possible condition, why did you never contact Alasdair again? I think it would have meant so much to him to have heard from you before he died.”

  Iain smiled a little sadly.

  “Actually…,” he answered slowly, “I did.”

  I looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “I sent a letter to Ranald,” Iain began, “to be given to Alasdair if ever he should be taken sick. I said nothing to Ranald or Alasdair that hinted at my whereabouts. I did not want them able to contact me.”

  “But why, Iain? I don’t understand why.”

  “Because had they known where I was or been able to get in touch with me, so would you eventually have known. I did not want to have such a secret with either of them, or place upon them a promise not to tell you.”

  “But why didn’t you want me to know?”

  “Because you would have contacted me.”

  “What would have been wrong with that, especially with Alasdair dying?”

  “You would have asked me to come. And I would have.”

  “I wish you had, Iain.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t. Even Alasdair’s death was something I felt you and he had to share together…alone…to cement your love for one another forever. I could not be part of it. It would have turned it into something between all three of us. I was not about to do that to Alasdair. Even in his death, I would not put him in the position of having to share you with me. Nor did I want to be part of that process in your heart. Painful though it was, I knew that you and God and Alasdair had to live through it together, and then Alasdair to die…without me.”

  “I think I begin to understand. You did it out of love for Alasdair, not because you were ignoring him?”

  “I hope so. That was certainly my intent. As I had comforted Fiona at her death, I knew that if I came I would find myself in a similar position. The circumstances were, of course, totally different. Alasdair had become a completely different man. I knew that Alasdair would even have encouraged me to comfort you. But I could not do that to my friend, knowing that he would see you and me leave the room together, would hear us talking in quiet tones. I could not again be in the position of comforting the woman he loved. What comfort was to be realized had to be derived from your love for him—not my words of consolation. That love was sufficient to see the two of you through without my help. I had to know that even your memory of Alasdair’s death would be untainted by anything but love for Alasdair, without anything to do with me. I hope you can see that. I loved and trusted you both enough to know that you and Alasdair would be strong and able to endure it together without my presence.”

  “Why didn’t you write and just tell us?”

  “I could say none of this, without undoing the very thing I felt I needed to do. To say it would hint that there might be something between you and me that could make my presence awkward. I couldn’t raise that idea without, as I said, intruding myself into both of your thoughts. Your thoughts had to be only of one another. I was pretty sure Alasdair would understand, though I knew you might not. Silence was the only avenue open to me. I asked Ranald to be attentive to Alasdair’s spiritual needs, to give him my letter, but not to tell you.”

  “I should have known,” I said, smiling, “that there would be love at the heart of it, even if I couldn’t see it or understand it. Do you mind if I ask what you said in the letter to Alasdair?”

  “I don’t mind,” replied Iain. “I told him there wasn’t a day that went by that I did not think of him with the love of a cherished friend and lift him in prayer to God. I told him that he had always been a friend to me and that I loved him. But as much as I wished I could be there with him at this time, given the circumstances and the past, it was not something that I felt would be best. I hoped and trusted he would understand and know that I would do nothing to diminish the happiness he had come to realize in recent years.”

  As he spoke I remembered the blue papers I had seen Ranald take into Alasdair’s sickroom.

  “And now that you and I are together, so to speak,” I said, “what do you believe he thinks now? You obviously no longer feel a constraint about being with me.”

  “Circumstances change. As I told you before, once I knew that your love for Alasdair was secure, I was free to love you, too. True love diminishes no other love. To answer your question, I think he is happy for us.”

  “Do you think that is really possible, for a man to happily to see his wife with another?”

  “Do you resent that Alasdair and Fiona are together now?” asked Iain.

  “Of course not. I am happy for them.”

  “In the same way, don’t you think Alasdair would be happy for us?”

  It was a wonderful thought. And I did think so. I knew he would be.

  Chapter Seventy-six

  Knotted Strands

  Love whispered to the nightingale—“Sweet minstrel, tell to me,

  Where didst thou hear that meltin
g tale of matchless melody?”

  The bird replied, “From dawn of day to ev’ning’s dewy hour,

  I ofttimes licht to learn a lay o’ love in Mary’s bow’r.”

  —Alexander Maclagen, “Mary’s Bower”

  My harp studio grew. I had to buy more harps to keep up with all the children who now wanted to take lessons. Many families bought instruments of their own. But I needed practice harps available for those who couldn’t. Eventually Tavia showed such an aptitude, both in the rapid advance of her own abilities and also demonstrating a wonderful gift for teaching, that she began the initial instruction of most of the young beginners.

  After they were married, she and Harvey also took up residence in apartments at the castle.

  After a return to Portland, and in further consultation with my father’s lawyer and friend Mr. Jones, my involvement in my father’s foundations increased to the extent that I returned once a year. I decided to take my father’s Oregon home off the market, and thereafter used it whenever traveling to the States. I did, however, arrange for the sale of my house in Calgary, and for my remaining possessions there to be shipped to the Portland address that I used when I was in the States. It was clear by then that Scotland would always be my home.

  After being feared by so many of Olivia’s generation, Ranald Bain became so endeared to the children of Port Scarnose and Crannoch that on weekends half a dozen or more youngsters could always be found at his cottage, busy with his sheep and his dogs and ducks, and bottle-feeding whatever wee lambies happened to be on hand. Ranald kept a good supply of oatcakes and milk and a wide variety of home-bakes and sweets in his cupboard for the constant flow of young guests. He conducted hikes up the Bin and taught the children about plants and animals and Scottish history, as well as fascinating the boys with tales of his days in the RAF during the Cold War.

  At Iain’s request, a weekly Saturday afternoon Bible study and discussion was begun at Ranald’s cottage as well, open to any and all from the community who desired to probe the deeper aspects of the Christian faith. According to Iain, Ranald was the host and Bible teacher. According to Ranald, that role fell to Iain. Suffice it to say that, sitting at the feet of both these remarkable men of varying doctrinal viewpoints, all of us who participated were enriched in our spiritual lives by continually growing in a deepening understanding of the nature and character of God.