“I will still walk in the woods,” Nairne spoke defiantly.
“Aye, of course ye shall, and very soon ye shall have a pretty new shawl made by yer mother in which tae do so,” Una patted her daughter on the shoulder and returned to her spinning.
Nairne went to the window from which she could see across the castle walls and up into the forests beyond. It was the same view which over twenty years ago Rhona Cameron had looked upon, wishing she could escape the clutches of the vile and despicable Murdoch Mackintosh. Now, as Nairne stood there, she too completed one day escaping and wondered at the people who lived far out above the forests and up upon the moorlands. The Cameron’s, home she had inhabited her whole life, and of whose reputation had heard many horrific tales.
She thought too of the mysterious man by the poolside, had she been too swift in running from him? It had seemed a natural reaction, though he had appeared to mean her no harm. It was a thought which came back to her often in the days which followed, and far from being frightened, had every intention of returning to the pool. Whether Murdoch liked it or not.
As she watched from the window, she saw the guards upon the road hurrying into the courtyard. Murdoch was there too, shouting orders at the stablemen as they brought out his prized steed. Approaching the Laird, the guard spoke to him, at which point Nairne’s face fell. She knew exactly what the man was saying to Murdoch, despite his promise not to tell the Laird about the man who had followed her in the woods.
A moment later, Murdoch turned and looked up at the window where Nairne was watching, mouthed something indiscernible and spat upon the floor. Nairne sighed, perhaps it really would be impossible for her to walk in the woods. But she could not rid herself of the image of the strange man, and the desire to swim again in the beautiful pool. The only place she could escape from the life she was forced to lead at the hands of Murdoch and his men.
Chapter Three
‘A Memorable Lassie’
“Andrew, will ye help me here,” Rhona’s horse reared up on its hind legs as she grabbed hold of its rein.
The animal had a fiery temperament and Andrew rushed across from chopping wood to assist his mother, reaching up to calm the horse.
“There now, peace,” he stroked the beast’s mane, soothing it, running his hand along its flank and smiling at his mother.
“He can be a fiery thing and make no mistake,” he said, laughing, “it is women that he dinnae like I’m afraid, mother.”
“Then we shall have tae find a horse that does like me, did ye help yer uncle with the cattle like he asked ye tae?”
“Aye, and Stewart with the hens tae, I am not sure what other jobs there are tae do,” Andrew hoped there would be no more that day.
“There are always jobs tae be found on a croft, ye should know that son,” Rhona placed her hand to his face as he held the horse, “ye are a bonnie laddie, and every day ye appear more like yer father.”
“What was he like?” Andrew walked by his mother’s side leading the horse back to its tethering, a cool breeze blowing across the hillside.
“A proud man, a great warrior. But that was not why I loved him, he had a gentle kindness to him, and when he spoke tae ye it was as though all that mattered was yer words, he had a way of holding yer attention,” Rhona smiled wistfully at the thought of her dead husband, it seemed so very long ago.
“Is he anything like Uncle Duncan?” Andrew queried
His mother laughed, “as unlike as ye could imagine, from the first moment I met them, the two were in competition, and that never ceased. They loved each other though.” she smiled a little sadly, as Andrew tied the horse up to its post, patting his mane once more.
He and Rhona made their way inside the croft, where Stewart was seated with Duncan in front of the hearth. The crofters built their homes from stone and turf, the roofs covered over with heather. Inside it was dark and gloomy, whatever the weather outside was offering. It was a far cry from the Cameron castle where Rhona had lived as the wife of the Laird. Now the four of them shared the small two-roomed house, Andrew and his uncle sharing one side and Rhona and Stewart the other.
It was days like this when the croft was filled with the smoke of cooking and the smells of animals that Andrew longed for the freedom of the forest. He wanted it, even more, now the image of Nairne was foremost in his mind. These past days he had thought of little else, eager to complete his work and return to the forest in search of the bonnie lassie at the pool.
“I am going tae walk down intae the forests this afternoon,” he announced, as his mother sliced a loaf of freshly baked bread and ladled out stew from the simmering pot above the fire.
“Ye spend tae much time down in that forest, laddie. Yer place is here, and there is always work for idle hands,” Duncan frowned at his nephew.
“My hands have not been idle, uncle and besides, I wish tae pay a visit to Cairstine and Alistair.”
Cairstine was Godmother to Andrew and had long been Rhona’s dearest friend. It was she who had taken such good care of her mistress all those years ago and been present at Andrew’s birth. Along with her husband she had faced the wrath of Murdoch after Rhona’s escape, leaving the castle just as soon as Alistair had been strong enough, having sustained an injury in the Mackintosh’s fight against the Cameron’s.
Andrew often visited them in their croft deep within the forest. His Godmother was something of a healer, and knew the uses of all the plants thereabouts and would gather them to make medicine. From far and wide the forest dwellers and crofters would come for advice and healing, but it was not just physical ailments that she cured. Andrew had always found that it was his Godmother who could dispense the soundest advice and now he wished to consult her on a particularly delicate topic, one that the rest of the family could not be privy to.
“He will go anyway, whether we say aye or no,” Rhona smile at her son, “and he has done his jobs for today.”
His uncle and step-father made no reply, and Andrew quickly finished his stew and bread, kissed his mother and departed. Outside he breathed in the fresh mountain air and began to run at full pelt down the mountainside and into the forest. This was freedom, no longer bound by the expectations of others.
As he ran, his heart beat fast, not only from the exertion of his run but from the prospect of glimpsing a sight of the beautiful lassie at the pool. A breeze swept through the forest, and he hardly noticed the beauty of the summer trees and flowers, his only desire to arrive at the pool and peer through the ferns.
It took longer than remembered to reach the pool, and he stopped several times to catch his breath, several young deer scattering as he crashed through the trees. Today the water was choppy, swelled by rainfall of the night, the calm and clear surface now reflecting the clamor of his soul. Was the lassie there? There was no sign, and sorrowfully he took out the shawl hidden beneath his tunic, holding it to his face in lament.
It was silly, and he knew it. Just because he’d run to the pool that afternoon did not mean he would meet the lassie again. She may have already swum that day, or may never return, fearful of the stranger who had disturbed her. Andrew sat for a while by the waters, watching the waterfall send down its foamy white horses crashing into the depths below. Idly he tossed stones into the water, picturing the beautiful lassie, now so much the object of his affections.
He sat for around an hour, waiting on the possibility that she might emerge from the trees, but the only sounds were the birds above and water gushing into the pool. At length, he stirred himself and making his way back into the forest, joined one of the hundreds of paths he knew so well, making for his Godmother’s croft.
When Cairstine and Alistair had left the Cameron castle, they had vowed never to return, but life on the hillside had not been for them. Instead, they had found a place deep in the woods, with only the animals for company, and there had constructed a simple dwelling of wood and thatch, a cozy cottage compared to the harsh life of the crofters above. It wa
s this that so often drew Andrew to visit his Godmother, the assurance of a warm welcome guaranteed.
Cairstine had never born bairns, but she was an expert in their delivery, often called upon to assist others. She treated Andrew not just as a Godson, but as a son of flesh and blood. She had been present at his birth, and that had given her a sense of lifelong responsibility for him. Now, as he approached the croft, she laid aside drying the herbs and opened her arms to him, the two embracing as she welcomed him to sit with her.
“Well now, this is an unexpected pleasure. I am surprised yer dear mother allowed ye tae wander in the woods today when I hear there is so much activity going on above,” ‘above’ was what Cairstine referred to as the crofter's dwellings on the hillside, a place she went to rarely, the forest now her natural home.
“It is Stewart and Duncan who would have me working,” Andrew sat next to the smoldering fire kindled outside the croft.
“Aye, I have no doubt that is the case, there’s always something tae do above, always some busyness to see tae,” she offered him a drink of warm milk from a pan, “Alistair is away in the woods, I’ve sent him off gathering mushrooms, he shouldn’t be long though.”
“Tis’ ye I wanted to talk tae,” Andrew looked earnest, as his Godmother poured herself a cup of milk and sat down next to him by the fire.
“I knew ye had not come here only tae pay me a visit, laddie. I know ye tae well, now what is it that is troubling ye then?”
“Nothing is troubling me, but a thought is preoccupying my mind, and I do not know what to do about it,” Andrew wondered if he was right to confide his secret in Cairstine at this early stage.
He had expected to see the lassie once again, perhaps even speak to her and would have had more to tell. As it was, he had nothing to say, except that he had glimpsed a lassie at the pool and could not stop thinking of her.
“Then what is it?” she said, “I cannot help ye if ye do not tell me what is on yer mind, I am no mind reader, there are folk enough in these parts that say I am a witch, and I do not want to encourage that further.”
“The other day I was following the deer in the forest, the most magnificent stag,” Andrew began.
“Aye, I have seen it.”
“Well, it ran towards the pools, deep in the forest, where the waterfalls flow. I lost him, but then I stumbled through the ferns and there in the water was a lassie swimming,” Andrew paused for a moment, but his Godmother nodded, urging him to tell her more, “she was … she was the most beautiful lassie I have ever seen, her long flowing hair and beautiful face. I tried tae speak with her, but she was scared and ran away in the direction of the Cameron castle. I followed her for a while, but dinnae dare go any further. She left behind this shawl though,” Andrew took the lassie’s shawl from his tunic and unfolded it for Cairstine to see.
Taking hold of it, Cairstine turned it over in her hands. It was exquisite, made of the best wool, far better than anything that could belong to a peasant.
“Ye say she ran off towards the Cameron castle?” Cairstine pondered on the lassie’s identity.
“Aye, but where precisely she ran tae, I dinnae know. I went again tae the pool just now, but she was not there.”
At this Cairstine laughed, “ye cannot expect her tae just be waiting for ye at the pool whenever ye should wish to visit her. Ye probably scared the poor lassie away. Ye will have to be more vigilant than that if ye expect tae see her once again, and next time I would suggest ye approach her with more caution and try not tae scare her?”
“Aye, but what am I tae say?”
“Say what is in yer heart, ye are obviously taken by this lassie, and with her shawl here ye have a reason tae speak with her, but don’t hold out hope of ever seeing her again. Sometimes we encounter another only for a moment in life. They can leave quite an impression upon us, but it does not mean they are destined tae be bound tae our lives forever,” Cairstine sipped at her milk and shaking her head at her Godson as she smiled.
“Ye cannot tell mother of this, or Stewart or Duncan.”
“I will not tell a soul, even Alistair. Ye are a young man and entitled to yer privacy when it comes tae affairs of the heart, I am glad ye felt able tae confide in me though, Andrew.”
“I can confide most things in ye, though I feel stupid for having only seen her once and yet having become so smitten with her.”
“The heart is a fickle thing and a thing not easily changed when it has set itself upon another. Keep going to the pool, and I am sure eventually ye will see her again,” Cairstine smiled, remembering her own young love with Alistair.
“I shall do, but now I should be going, I have no doubt that there is work for me back at the crofts. I will come to see ye again very soon,” Andrew stood, embracing his Godmother, who smiled back at him.
“Be sure ye do and take these herbs to yer mother, I know she has been without sorrel for a while now, and dinnae forget tae stay true tae yerself, Andrew Cameron, never let yer uncle and step-father have the last word. They were rebels once tae,” and bidding him goodbye she watched as he ran off into the forest.
Cairstine was as curious as Andrew as to the identity of the mysterious lassie. She knew no one in who lived in the forest that would have such an exquisitely made shawl nor anyone who would make a habit of bathing in the pool. The thought stayed with her, and she wondered if perhaps the lassie might be …? No, it couldn’t be, she told herself, and as the days went by, she decided that Andrew had either seen a faery or a most attractive peasant girl who had chanced upon the shawl and would be eager to see it returned.
Chapter Four
‘Murdoch’s Feast’
It was now several days after Andrew Cameron had spoken with Cairstine, the young man was still brooding over his encounter in the forest but far below the Cameron Castle was a hive of activity. Murdoch Mackintosh was preparing for the annual gathering of the clan. Once a year he welcomed his fellow clansmen to a great feast at which all came to pay their respects to their Laird and gather as one in strength and number. It was always a time of much excitement in the glen, with folk coming from near and far to feast at the Laird’s expense.
The occasion was a time when Nairne made herself as scarce as possible. She disliked her fellow clansmen and their war mongering, but she also had a duty to be present at the feast and welcome the castle’s honoured guests. That sense of responsibility was born from loyalty to her dear mother who had suffered much these years past and whom Nairne longed to see freed from Murdoch’s evil clutches. Nairne had often wanted to escape, to run away into the forest and live the simple life of a peasant, but she stayed because of her mother.
As she watched the retinues of tunicked soldiers and noble men, and women pass through the castle gate, she wondered what her life would have been like had she been born a simple lassie in the forest instead of a noblewoman in the castle. Far freer, she thought to herself, sighing as the hour of the feast approached.
* * *
“Ye must wait until he finds some other distraction before ye return tae the forest,” Una said to Nairne, “the reports of the man that followed ye are foremost on his mind, and he will not be persuaded tae allow ye tae return to the pool whilst he suspects there are Cameron spies hiding in the trees.”
“I want tae go now though, mother,” she complained, as around them, the servants made ready for the feast.
The Great Hall, where once the Cameron’s had feasted, was bedecked in the banners of the Mackintosh’s. Murdoch’s men had been out hunting in the forest, and the feast would include sides of venison, braces of coneys, birds, fowl and fish fresh from the streams, alongside any number of pastries, bread and fruits gathered from the natural abundance of the glen. Murdoch liked to show off his wealth and power, a reminder to the clan of who the Laird was, and the power he wielded.
“Dinnae tempt his anger, Nairne,” her mother replied, fearful that her daughter may feel the hand of Murdoch’s wrath, as she so often had done
.
“I am not afraid of him, he will be tae busy preparing for the feast tae notice if I slip away,” Nairne replied.
“There is no time now, and it is not only ye who shall feel his wrath if tis’ discovered that ye are gone, Nairne. Now remain obedient, at least until this awful annual ordeal is over. Come now, we must get ready for the feast tonight,” her mother replied.
The two women began to ready themselves in Una’s chambers, the evening sun casting its warmth upon the glen. Nairne’s mother, ever protective and fearful for her daughter’s safety, selected a pretty dress for her, one she had made herself, hoping that neither of them would feel Murdoch’s wrath that night.
Down in the Great Hall the sound of pipers could be heard, and the smells of cooking now wafted up from the kitchens below. In the castle courtyard, Murdoch stood, welcoming his fellow clansmen to the castle. The summer feast was a great occasion, much anticipated by all the clan, and every year Murdoch tried to better it and prove himself worthy of the title which he had bestowed upon himself. Laird, not only of the Mackintosh’s as was his right but also of the Cameron’s, which most certainly was not.
Highlander's Rightful Claim (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 3