High on a Mountain Page 6

  Latharn Cambeul! No! She couldn’t do it, couldn’t marry the man, couldn’t allow him to touch her. Her skin crawled at the thought of his hands touching her the same way Ailean had touched her. Dread filled her at the prospect of being tied in marriage to a man like Latharn. Waves of anger and fear undulated through her and over her like the surging of stormy sea against a beleaguered shore. A trickle of tears became a flood.

  She became aware that someone was calling her name.

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice tremulous and faint.

  “Mùirne, what are you doing? I’ve been calling you to come eat your supper,” Ma said.

  Mùirne sat up and dried her eyes, rubbed the wetness from her cheeks with a corner of her airisaid. She crept to the hearth, took her seat, and Ma handed her a bowl of steaming vegetable stew. Nausea billowed through her empty stomach and bile climbed into her throat at the sight and smell of the food. She set the bowl on the earthen floor beside her chair and leaned over, arms clamped together over her midriff, weak and miserable.

  “Eat your supper,” Ma said.

  “I…I can’t,” she whispered.

  Ma frowned. “Why not? There’s nothing the matter with it. It’s perfectly good—”

  “I feel sick.”

  Mùirne raised her head and Ma looked closely at her daughter, at her disheveled clothing, her tousled and tangled hair, at her ashen face with its large eyes that were sunken and hollow.

  “What’s the matter, Mùirne?” Ma asked.

  “Please. I…can’t do it. Please…I can’t marry Latharn.”

  Ma regarded Mùirne for a long moment. “You don’t have to,” she said. “We’ll—”

  “Yes, she does have to.” Grandma interrupted. “It’s all settled. We gave our word.”

  “I’ll not force her to marry the man. She’s so afraid of him…look at her. The very idea of it is making her sick.”

  “Dearshul, you have to take a firm hand with that girl. This foolishness has to stop.”

  “No. I won’t make her do it.”

  “You have to,” Grandma said. “Think of it. You could go live with her in that fine house, not have to worry where your next meal will come from. What else are you going to do? You’re too old to marry again.”

  “No.”

  “Me and your da are getting too old to work. We need someone to take care of us. We’ll all have an easy life when she marries the man.”

  “No. She’s not going to marry him.”

  “Then you’re no daughter of mine! If she won’t agree to marry him, I want you both out of this house!” Grandma shouted.

  Dearshul laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Come, Mùirne. Let’s get our things and go.”

  EIGHT

  “Hello, the house!”

  The greeting from a strange voice had Grandma peering from the doorway, apprehensive. She’d never seen either of the young men, one of whom towered over his companion. His face bore the marks of a beating. Grandma thought he must be a dangerous man, and she backed away when he stopped in front of her.

  “Is this where Mùirne MacPhàrlain lives?” the tall one asked.

  “Who are you, and what is your business?” Grandma demanded.

  “I’m Ailean MacLachlainn, and this is my neighbor, Raghnall MacLachlainn. We’re here to speak to Mùirne’s mother and her granda.”

  “No. You can’t.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “Is Mùirne here? I couldn’t find her anywhere.” A ewe bleated in the byre and the young man raised his eyes, tried to see inside the darkened cottage. “The sheep are here…she must be, too.”

  “Ah.” Grandma’s eyes narrowed as she remembered Mùirne’s words. “So you are the Ailean she spoke of. You can leave. You’re not welcome here.”

  “But—”

  “Leave, troublemaker! “

  “But—”

  “Go!”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Mùirne’s grandma.”

  “Where is she? I need to see her. And her mother.”

  Grandma squinted at him. Her anger at Dearshul and Mùirne still burned in her belly. And it ascended into her chest where it lay coiled tight and heavy like a serpent. Now its venom oozed from her lips in a lie she hoped would pierce the heart of the young man who stood before her. She would relieve her own distress by trying to cause him pain.

  “She is away, preparing to marry Latharn Cambeul.”

  The wounded expression that distorted Ailean’s face satisfied Grandma’s need for revenge, assuaged it, if only for a moment.

  “That can’t be true. She loves me. She said she’d marry me—”

  “Go. You are not welcome here,” Grandma MacPhàrlain started to close the door.

  Ailean put his hand on it and stopped her. “No. You have to let me see her.” His voice grew louder. “Mùirne!” he shouted. “Mùirne!”

  There was no answer.

  Raghnall pulled Ailean’s hand away and the door slammed shut. “Come. Let’s go.”

  “What do I do now?” he asked Raghnall.

  “I don’t know. Let’s go home.”

  Ailean stumbled down the path beside Raghnall, his conflicted emotions and thoughts vying with each other for ascendancy. All his plans and dreams of the valorous life he had wanted before he met Mùirne were gone, erased by the consuming need to have Mùirne beside him, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her lips, to stroke her velvet cheek. A need grown stronger, pushing all else from his mind, now that it had been denied.

  Coinneach’s words echoed through his mind. “You’ve compromised her, compromised yourself. You’ve behaved dishonorably. Who knows if they will accept you now.”

  What could he do? How could he get Mùirne’s family to accept him?

  His wanted to run back to the cottage, break down the door, push past the old lady and find Mùirne, drag her away with him. But he realized his usual impetuous approach to whatever situation he faced would not help him now. He needed to think things through with a cool head, make a careful and considered plan of action.

  Ailean knew one thing: he had to keep Mùirne from marrying Latharn or his own life would be over.

  ____________

  Mùirne rolled over and a rock prodded her side. It penetrated her slumber. She awoke and sat up, looking around in the early morning light at unfamiliar territory. The cold air chilled her dew-dampened clothing and made her shiver. She lay down again, moving closer to her mother’s warmth. Mùirne’s stirring awakened her mother, and she sat up and yawned.

  “We should be on our way. I don’t think it’s much farther,” Dearshul said. She picked up her bundle of belongings and trudged down the hillside with Mùirne following close behind.

  The sun traveled closer to its zenith by the time they made their way onto the land of Clan MacNeachdainn. Dearshul stopped at a cottage and asked the way to Raibeart MacNeachdainn’s home.

  Dearshul saw her older daughter from a distance. “Elasaid!”

  “Ma!” Elasaid shouted, left the sheep and ran to her mother and sister. She threw her arms around her mother, then embraced Mùirne.

  “I’m so glad to see you. What a nice surprise.” Elasaid beamed.

  “You might not think it’s so nice when you hear what’s happened,” Dearshul said.

  “Let me bring the sheep to the house. I’ll fix you something to eat and you can tell me about it.”

  ____________

  Ailean left the house before breakfast and climbed the mountain. When he reached his rock, he sat and looked over the land below without seeing it, his heartache expanding and threatening to choke him. His face felt swollen and bloated from the effort of keeping his misery from overwhelming him, and his breaths came fast and shallow as he struggled to keep his tears from flowing. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to it. Warriors didn’t cry.

  He could control the tears, but he couldn’t control his thoughts. They returned to Mùirne, again and again.

 
Mùirne married to Latharn? How could that be true? She told Ailean she loved him, only him. She said she would marry him.

  Ailean closed his eyes and groaned at the memory of holding her, kissing her. He remembered how she looked when she said she loved him, remembered the excitement burning through her eyes from her soul. Mùirne loved him, and he knew it. Loved him like he loved her. How could she marry Latharn?

  He opened his eyes and blinked to clear the mist from them. Ailean gazed down at the glen, at the spot where he planned to build a cottage for Mùirne. A cottage where they would live a life filled with love and happiness. A cottage that would never be. There would be no happiness, no golden days of love in his future.

  Ailean found it hard to breathe, as if the life had been crushed from his heart. His dreams were destroyed and scattered like ashes. And he could think of nothing to do to change that.

  ____________

  Latharn paced through the house, eager and impatient, while he waited for his father to finish dressing. When Eachann was ready, they left for the MacPhàrlain’s cottage.

  Grandma MacPhàrlain met them at the door.

  “I’m here to see Mùirne,” Latharn told her.

  “Mùirne’s not here,” she said.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. I sent her away.”

  “But, I brought my father to meet her. And he and you can begin making the wedding plans,” Latharn said.

  “She’s not here. She refused to marry you, so I sent her away.”

  “But she has to marry me. You approved, you gave your permission,” Latharn said, the implication of her words penetrating his mind gradually.

  “Her mother refused, too. I’m sorry. You’ll have to go,” Grandma said and started to close the door.

  Eachann Cambeul elbowed his way past his son and stepped in front of her, pushing the door wide open.

  “Do you know who I am!” he thundered, his face growing red, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging. “You will not disrespect my son this way! I won’t tolerate it!”

  He shoved Grandma aside and entered the cottage, followed by Latharn and Odhran. He went through the small dwelling, knocking over the pitifully few furnishings, smashing some of them. He tore down the curtained partition, went into the sleeping area and threw the heather bedding onto the floor. He ground it underfoot. He opened the gate to the byre, released the animals that were penned for the night and drove them outside.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this, old woman,” he wheezed, leaning over Grandma, glaring into her face.

  Latharn hovered at his father’s side, his face a mask of concern. “Father, are you all right?”

  Grandma’s breath came rapid and ragged through her open mouth. Her shoulders sagged, and she leaned against the wall for support.

  Eachann turned and limped out the door. “Come, son. We’ve spent enough time in this hovel. And forget the girl. You can see what kind of stock she issued from,” he said, gasping. He gave Grandma a piercing look. “She is beneath you.”

  ____________

  “Why did Grandma want you to marry that man?” Elasaid asked. “He lives not far from here, and I have heard bad things of him. I wouldn’t let him marry one of my sheep.”

  “I think…it’s because Latharn is rich,” Mùirne said.

  “What are you going to do now, Ma?” Elasaid asked.

  Dearshul shook her head, her face drawn and haggard, worry written upon its wrinkles with a bold pen. “I don’t know. I just know I won’t give my daughter to a man she is afraid of, not for any amount of money.”

  She looked at Mùirne and patted her hand. She tried to give her daughter a reassuring smile.

  “I don’t know where we’ll find another marriage prospect for her,” Elasaid said. “There aren’t many unmarried men around here. Except for a doddering old widower and a few underage boys. There are some unmarried cottars on this croft and the next one. But,” she regarded her younger sister with pity evident in her eyes, shaking her head, “marrying a cottar—”

  “Maybe I won’t have to marry a cottar. Ailean MacLachlainn said he wants to marry me. He said he was going to come speak to Ma,” Mùirne said. “But he doesn’t know where I am now. If he did—

  “Ailean MacLachlainn? That tall boy who plays camanachd so well? I’ve heard of him. Saw him play once.”

  “He is tall, truly. And he did say Latharn became his enemy over camanachd.”

  “Mùirne,” Dearshul said, her voice stern. “How do you know this MacLachlainn boy? He’s never been to the house.”

  Mùirne’s face turned red, and she lowered her head to stare at her hands, which were plucking and twisting at her clothing. She didn’t answer.

  “Tell me!”

  “I…he comes to see me…”

  Dearshul grasped Mùirne’s chin and tilted her daughter’s face up, but Mùirne’s eyes didn’t meet her mother’s.

  “Have you…has anything…has he done anything?”

  “He…the last time he came to see me, he kissed me.”

  Dearshul slumped into a chair, buried her face in her hands. “I’ll never get you married now. I should have listened to Ma and made you marry Latharn.”

  “No,” Mùirne said. “Ailean will marry me. Ailean…he loves me. He said so.”

  Dearshul groaned.

  “When Raibeart returns this evening, I’ll speak to him about this.” Elasaid tried to reassure her mother. “He can take his brother and go talk to MacLachlainn, tell him where you are. We’ll see what happens.”

  ____________

  “Hello the house,” someone called from the hillside.

  Aodh arose from his chair by the fire and went outside. Two strangers descended the path toward the cottages.

  “Hello,” Aodh answered. “Who are you, and what might your business be?”

  “I’m Raibeart MacNeachdainn,” one of the men said, “and this is my brother, Seumas. We are looking for Ailean MacLachlainn.”

  What has that boy done now?

  Aodh shook his head imperceptibly. He sighed. “Ailean is my son. What business do you have with him?”

  “Is he here?” Raibeart asked.

  “Aye.” Aodh turned to call his son outside, but Ailean stood in the doorway already.

  “I’m Ailean. What do you want with me?”

  “My wife sent me to fetch you, if you’ll come. Her sister, Mùirne, is at our house. She wants to see you.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Ailean said and went inside to strap on his sword and don his bonnet.

  NINE

  Raibeart and Seumas struggled to keep up with Ailean on the path along the shore of Loch Fyne. But after they left MacLachlainn land and passed through Cambeul territory, he slowed. And when they entered Clan MacNeachdainn lands, he hung back so they could lead the way.

  His inner turmoil mirrored the terrain they crossed; his thoughts ascended, reached the pinnacle of his desires…she loves me, that’s why she sent for me, she’s still mine…then tumbled and plunged into a valley of depression…she’s marrying Latharn, she’ll never be mine, she just wants to say goodbye.

  Mùirne stood outside her sister’s cottage, watching for them, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Ailean caught sight of her flaming red hair from a distance and rushed to her, once again leaving the MacNeachdainn brothers behind.

  He wanted to grab her, enwrap her in his arms and carry her away, but he slowed when he neared her, unsure of what she would say. He stopped several feet away and stood looking intently at her, breathing hard, as much from the tumult of his emotions as from his physical exertion.

  Mùirne stood before him, trembling.

  “Mùirne. You wanted to see me?”

  “Aye,” she said, a frown wrinkling her smooth brow.

  “Your grandma said you are marrying Latharn.”

  “No, no. I…Ma and I came here because Grandma said if I didn’t marry him, we couldn’t stay at home with her
any longer. I’ll never marry Latharn.”

  Ailean closed his eyes, turned his face heavenward and said a silent prayer of thanks. He took a deep breath, and some of the tightness that bound his body dissolved. The heaviness that pressed down on him lessened. His shoulders relaxed as he gazed at Mùirne. Her image blurred, and he blinked his eyes to clear them. He took another breath.

  “You still want to marry me?” he asked.

  “Aye.”

  Ailean took two steps, reached to take her in his arms, but remembered that they were not alone in the glen by Loch Lomond. He forced his arms to his sides and stood looking down into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I…I love you, too,” she said. She smiled, took his hand and led him to the door of Elasaid’s cottage. She dropped his hand and beckoned Ailean to follow her inside.

  “Ma, this is Ailean MacLachlainn,” Mùirne said, keeping her eyes turned toward the floor.

  “Is it, now,” Dearshul said. “And what would be your business here, MacLachlainn?”

  “I…I—” Ailean stammered, blushing, at a loss for words. He brushed his hair back, adjusted his bonnet, cleared his throat and looked directly into Dearshul’s eyes. “I want to marry your daughter.”

  “Can you provide for her?” Dearshul asked.

  “Aye. I’ve asked the tacksman if I can have a share on the croft, and he gave his permission. The other tenants are agreeable. I will work hard to make sure we have enough to eat and clothes to wear,” he answered.

  “And your father has approved it?”

  “Aye. He told me I can build a house beside his, like my brother Coinneach did when he married. And I will have a share on the croft. We’ve already decided which field will be mine. I will be a tenant, like the others, not a cottar.”

  Dearshul turned to Mùirne. “Do you want to marry him?”

  Mùirne was standing by the wall near the door, listening and nervously twisting her fingers. Her head jerked up, her eyes opened wide, startled by having the question directed to her. She blushed.