High on a Mountain Page 5

  “I don’t know, son.” Aodh stroked his beard. “This little croft, with its poor soil, it barely provides for all the families who live here as it is. What about when you have a family, too? How can we feed everyone?”

  Ailean said nothing. Da allowed Coinneach to build a cottage on the croft, but now that Ailean wanted to do the same, the answer was “no.” Resentment fanned into flames the embers of his jealousy. In his mind, he formed a biting reply, but before he could say anything, Aodh broke the silence.

  “Of course, we’ll have to get Ruairidh’s approval, like we did for Coinneach. But he usually agrees to what we ask. And there is one thing in your favor. We’ve not been planting that field on the other side of the upper woods. If everyone is agreeable, you could work that field as your share. For now.”

  Relief flooded through Ailean and washed away his resentment as though it had never been..

  “Thanks, Da! I’ll clear that field myself. I’ll do whatever has to be done. And Mùirne, she can help Ma and Una with the sheep. She’s good with sheep.”

  “Mùirne, eh? All right, son. I’m sure we’ll all find a way to get by,” Aodh said, his voice sounding tired and strained.

  He started to go inside but turned back to Ailean. “Why did you and Latharn fight?”

  “He wants to marry Mùirne, too. But she chose me, not him. And that made him angry.”

  “That man will come to a bad end someday. He’s been coddled and pampered, given everything he ever wanted. That’s not good for anyone. It doesn’t build character.”

  “He has no honor. He hit me when I wasn’t looking. He didn’t give me a fair chance to fight.” Ailean touched his bruised cheek with careful fingers. He frowned as he remembered the fight.

  “Honor is the important thing, not the ability to swing a fist.” Aodh opened the door. “You coming?”

  “No. I need to speak to Coinneach.”

  “Your mother won’t be happy.” Aodh shook his head, entered the cottage and closed the door.

  ____________

  “It was better than I could have dreamed,” Latharn said to his father. “The feel of my fist hitting his chin, it was so satisfying. And Mùirne saw the whole thing. She—”

  “You are serious about marrying this girl?”

  “Yes, Father. When you see her, you’ll understand. She is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then you’d better ask for her hand, get her family’s approval. Soon,” Eachann said.

  Although he wasn’t sure about the suitability of the girl, it was enough that Latharn wanted her. He seldom denied his only child, this son of his old age, anything he desired, and he would not interfere with Latharn’s choice of a wife.

  “But, I thought I’d better let her get over her anger first. She was so angry—”

  “Women don’t understand how things are with men. She’ll get over it. But you should meet with her family and get their approval right away, get the formalities settled, since she has another suitor.”

  Latharn looked at his father, his brows drawing together, wrinkling his forehead. “How do I make sure they’ll approve?”

  “Impress them with your wealth. Dress in your finest. Take your cousin Suibhne to speak for you, and take Odhran and some other attendants. Her family will be intimidated by your wealth and power. And take them a sumptuous gift. They won’t dare say ‘no’ to a Cambeul. Especially not to a wealthy Cambeul.”

  ____________

  Ailean went next door to Coinneach’s cottage. “It’s me, brother,” he said and slapped the barred door. He heard the scrape of the bar being lifted, and the door opened.

  “What are you doing out so late? It’s almost time for bed,” Coinneach said.

  “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Come sit by the fire, then.” Coinneach led the way to the hearth where his wife, Una, sat carding wool.

  “Good evening,” Ailean said to Una as he took a seat on one of the chairs by the small peat fire and put his hands out over it to warm them. The children were already in bed asleep.

  “Well, what is so important that you had to come keep me from my bed?” Coinneach asked.

  “I’ve asked Mùirne to marry me.”

  “You’re going to marry!” Coinneach jumped up from his chair and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Mùirne? Is she the red-haired girl with the sheep over by—” He stopped when he got a closer look at Ailean’s face, cocked his head to one side and frowned. “What happened to you, little brother?”

  “Latharn Cambeul. He beat me with his fists. In front of Mùirne,” Ailean said. “I thought I could never go see her again, that I was disgraced, that she’d think me a weakling and tell me not to come back. But she said she wants me. And she said she’ll marry me.” Ailean shook his head, a wondering expression on his face. “How can you tell what a woman will think or do?”

  Coinneach laughed. “That is a question no man will ever be able to answer.”

  “At least, you are one man who seems never able to answer it,” Una said, with a knowing glance at her husband.

  He smiled at her, turned to Ailean and regarded him with a sigh. “So. My little brother is going to be a married man. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Can you help me?” Ailean asked. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

  “I could do that,” Coinneach said with a grin. “First, you have to ask the girl’s father for permission to marry her.”

  “She doesn’t have a father. He’s dead.”

  “Oh. Doesn’t she have a brother, an uncle, a grandfather?”

  “I think she has a grandfather.”

  “You think—don’t you know?”

  “Well, I haven’t met her family yet—”

  “What? You’ve been courting this girl, haven’t you? How could you not have met her family?” Coinneach paused. He compressed his lips, and his eyebrows drew together. “You haven’t been courting her. You’ve been seeing her behind her family’s back.”

  “Well, I go to see her, but—”

  “But not at her house, where her family can supervise.”

  “No. Was I supposed to?”

  Coinneach shook his head, rubbed his hands over his face, took them away and glared at his brother. “Ailean, don’t you know anything? You’ve compromised her, compromised yourself. You’ve behaved dishonorably. Who knows if they will accept you now.”

  Ailean sat in silence. A scarlet stain crept up his throat and colored his face.

  “Listen, you can’t go through life jumping in and doing things just because they suit your fancy. You have to behave. Do what you’re supposed to.”

  “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”

  “There’s no help for it now. You’ll have to do the best you can to smooth things over.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll have to ask the grandfather for her hand. And who will you take to speak for you?”

  “What do you mean, speak for me?”

  “You have to take someone with you to speak to the grandfather. He’ll say things about what a good catch you are.”

  “But who can I take? Would you go?”

  “No, it would be better if someone else goes, not your brother. How about Raghnall? He spoke to Una’s father for me,” Coinneach said, turning his eyes to his wife.

  “Aye, that he did,” Una said with a smile.

  “So, how do I do this? How do I ask for her hand?”

  “Take Raghnall. He knows what to say. He’ll help you.”

  Ailean rubbed his bare foot back and forth impatiently on the dirt floor. He’d had no idea what was involved in setting up a wedding. He’d assumed he’d go ask her mother if he could marry Mùirne, and then, well, he expected to get married. Now, he was finding out there was much more to it. He wished he had paid closer attention to the proceedings when Coinneach and Una married.

  “This is going to be more complicat
ed than I expected. And I told her I’d come tomorrow to ask for her hand.”

  “Then go ask Raghnall if he’ll go tomorrow. What’s the problem with that?”

  “Da says I have to talk to Ruairidh tomorrow to ask for permission to build a house for Mùirne on the croft.”

  “Oh,” said Coinneach. “Then you’ll have to talk to Ruairidh, like Da said.”

  “But Mùirne is expecting me tomorrow. What will she think when I don’t come?”

  “You’ll have to go the next day. You can’t ask for the girl’s hand in marriage if you have no home to take her to.”

  “But—”

  “Listen to me,” Coinneach said, his voice stern and hard. “I know how you are. You think you can do whatever you please. Sometimes, you get away with it. But in an important matter like this, you need to pay attention to what I’m telling you and do the right thing. Maybe you can repair the damage you’ve already done.”

  He paused again, cocked his head and glared at Ailean. “Does Da know what you’ve been doing? That you haven’t been behaving honorably toward this girl?”

  Ailean remained silent, and his face reddened again.

  Coinneach shook his head and audibly exhaled in a disgusted grunt. “I thought not. Go home and get some sleep. And do what Da tells you for once.”

  Ailean said nothing for a moment, irritation crawling up his backbone with a prickly insistence he could not ignore. He muttered under his breath as he left Coinneach by the fire. “Why can’t we just go to the parson and say our vows? Why all this…nonsense?”

  SEVEN

  Night still clung to the western slopes and darkness huddled beneath the thicket of trees overhanging the path when Aodh and Ailean started for Ruairidh MacLachlainn’s home in the half-light of early morning. Father and son trotted along without a word, single-file, their exhaled breaths trailing behind them in the cold air for a brief moment before dissipating.

  “Hello, the house!” Aodh called when they emerged from the woods into a clearing surrounding a large house.

  The door opened and Ruairidh stepped outside.

  “Aodh, is something wrong?” Ruairidh, a tacksman of the chief, Lachlainn MacLachlainn, rented land from him and subleased it to crofters like Aodh and his neighbors. His crofters came to him for advice when they faced trouble.

  “We have something to ask,” Aodh said. “Ailean, tell him.”

  Ailean shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I’ve met a girl I want to marry, and I need to build a house for her. I’d like to build it on the croft, be a joint tenant with Da and the others.”

  Ruairidh looked at him a moment, a tinge of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So, you can escape Cambeul players on a camanachd field, but you can’t escape a fair lass.”

  Ailean blushed and grinned. “Not this lass.”

  “Congratulations, lad. I wish you every happiness. As far as the croft is concerned, we’ll have to consult the other tenants to see if everyone is agreeable, but I don’t have any problem with it. There’s a section that’s not under cultivation, isn’t there, Aodh?”

  “Aye. Just past the upper woods.”

  “If the others are agreeable, it will be fine with me. Talk to them first and then we’ll discuss the details,” Ruairidh said.

  Ailean thanked him and started for home. He and his father traveled along without speaking most of the way, each lost in his own thoughts. Ailean’s thoughts were filled with anticipation. I’ll build Mùirne a home where we can be happy from now on, where our lives will be perfect.

  Aodh’s thoughts were filled with worry. How can so many families survive on the worn-out soil of our little croft? We can hardly raise enough food for everyone as it is.

  ____________

  “Won’t you please come in?” Grandma MacPhàrlain said when she opened the door and saw Latharn Cambeul standing before her.

  “Yes. I need to speak to Mùirne’s grandfather.” Latharn strutted through the doorway, followed by his attendants.

  “Please have a seat by the fire. I’ll fetch her granda,” Grandma MacPhàrlain said, and hurried out the door, a broad smile on her face.

  Latharn looked with distaste at the low chairs arranged around the open fireplace, at the smoke-blackened walls and rafters. A tremor of revulsion passed through his body as he contemplated yet again what life in this squalid hovel must be like for Mùirne. And smiled.

  Yes. Father was right. These poor people would be impressed with his display of wealth. Mùirne’s family would realize what an honor was being bestowed upon them by his proposal and would agree to the marriage.

  ____________

  Ailean and Aodh arrived home to find Brìghde at work tidying the cottage. Niall sat by the fire tuning his fiddle. In his excitement over the prospect of marrying Mùirne, Ailean had forgotten it was Friday. Each Friday night, all their neighbors gathered at Aodh and Brìghde’s cottage, the largest on the croft, for the weekly ceilidh.

  “Getting it tuned for tonight?” he asked Niall.

  Niall looked up and nodded without speaking. He thumbed the string and listened, turned the peg, thumbed it again.

  “Think Raghnall will let you play more than one song?”

  “Yes, I’ll play that one song with him again, and he said I could play the one by myself that I’ve been practicing this week.”

  “Then maybe it will be worth the torture of listening to you screeching away—”

  “Ma! Make him stop—”

  “Ailean! Leave your brother alone,” Bridghe scolded. “And Niall, stop whining. Act like a man. If you two keep this up, I’ll send you both to the barn to spend the evening, and you’ll miss the party altogether.”

  “Sorry. I’ll behave, Ma,” Ailean said.

  He didn’t want to miss ceilidh; he loved it. Some of his happiest childhood memories were of the story-telling at the ceilidh. As a boy, he sat wide-eyed and enthralled as he listened to tales of the bravery and gallantry of his ancestors. He thrilled to stories of the glory of battle, stories of how clansmen fought with honor and defeated their enemies.

  He pictured himself as the hero of the stories, saw himself, sword in hand, fighting bravely for his clan, giving no thought to his own safety. In his daydreams, he saved others through his strength and ability as a warrior. He saw himself accepting accolades and receiving the glory and honor due his exploits.

  Ailean also enjoyed stories of selkies and kelpies. And tales of the fairies, little people who lived inside the hills. He absorbed superstitions from the frightful narratives of the supernatural which sustained many of the ancient beliefs of the Highlanders, legends handed down from their Celtic ancestors and passed from one generation to the next.

  And he loved the dancing and singing. Each week, everyone danced while Raghnall MacLachlainn played the fiddle. Raghnall’s older brother, Tòmas, had been the fiddler at the ceilidh until last year when he married and moved to the nearby croft where his wife’s family lived.

  Now Raghnall played the fiddle for the dancing, and Niall was learning to play, too. Each week his fingers became more adept as he pulled his bow across the strings of the fiddle Aodh had inherited from his father.

  Singing was an integral part of Highland life. Highlanders sang as they worked, worshipped and played. Each Friday night, Ailean always sang a song or two by himself and then led everyone in song.

  He smiled as he anticipated the evening of fun and wished Mùirne could be at his side to enjoy the party with him. But he told himself that there would be other Friday nights, other times of enjoyment he and Mùirne would share once they were married.

  ____________

  Mùirne watched and waited all day, but Ailean didn’t come. She had believed him when he said it didn’t matter to him that she was a MacGriogair. She believed him when he said he loved her, believed he wanted to marry her.

  But now, her faith in him was shaken. Doubt dragged her shoulders down like a heavy burden, and it grew deeper
with each passing hour.

  He doesn’t love me after all.

  But she remembered how he looked at her, his eyes misted with love, and she recalled the things he’d said.

  Surely he loves me. What if he hasn’t come because he’s hurt? What if something happened to him?

  She chided herself for her faithlessness. But doubts about Ailean’s love for her arose once more. Anxiety and disappointment swirled within her, unsettled her stomach and she was unable to eat her noon meal.

  When evening came and she led the ewes to the cottage, she hardly noticed her surroundings. Her inner turmoil consumed her thoughts. She herded the sheep into the byre and went to sit by the fire.

  Grandma looked up from her spinning. “Well, Mùirne, your future is assured,” she said. “You have been spoken for. And your Granda gave his permission for you to marry.”

  “Ailean came here? Without me?”

  A joyous smile brightened Mùirne’s face and delight brought a sparkle to her eyes. The doubt and worry that had plagued her all day dissolved, washed away as if it never existed.

  “Who is Ailean?” Grandma said, without looking up.

  “You said I’ve been spoken for. Ailean was going to speak to Ma today.”

  Grandma frowned. “No. I don’t know any ‘Ailean.’”

  “But…you said—”

  “Latharn Cambeul asked for your hand and your granda gave his approval.”

  The color drained from Mùirne’s face, and her whitened lips moved but made no sound. She stood, backed away from the fire, shaking her head, her eyes widening as the full horror of Grandma’s words descended upon her.

  “And what’s this about a man we don’t know speaking to your ma? What’s going on with you, girl?”

  Mùirne didn’t answer. She stumbled past the curtain to her bed and fell across it, panting.