“Don’t worry yourself, Corran.” said Marta, as if able to read my thoughts, “You will come to understand it all in time.”
I smiled my thanks at the old lady, wrapping the plaid tighter around me. My body was overcome with exhaustion. Marta was beside me. “Hush, wee one”, she murmured, gently stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and slept peacefully with the warmth of the fire at my feet and the love and friendship of my companions by my side.
“Mamma, mamma.” My eyes sprang open as I heard his voice and felt the tug of his little hand on my sleeve. I blinked in the dim light of early morning and shook my head disoriented. Simon sat asleep, his back resting against the wall of the attic.
“Duncan needs a pot,” he whispered, still tugging on my sleeve, his little eyes looking up expectantly at me.
“Simon,” I whispered, leaning across to touch my husband’s leg. “Simon, Duncan needs a wee.”
Simon’s eyes opened slowly, his brow creased in a frown.
“I am afraid he is not on his own, his daddy needs one too.”
“What should we do? The pot is in the house,” I said.
“Don’t worry, Corran, I have one here,” he whispered, reaching into a chest beside him.
“Are they still here?” I asked.
“I don’t know, they went quiet a few hours ago.”
“Simon, do you ever dream of things which feel as though they are real?” I asked.
He frowned across at me. “That’s an odd question. What do you mean?”
“It’s only I had this dream. I was back on the mountains in the glen. It was after the massacre, and my friends were there.”
“We all have dreams like that Corran, don’t worry about it.”
“It felt so real Simon and I just can’t shake it out of my head. It was like I had been there, with them, on the mountain.”
“As I said Corran, we all have them, this morning there are bigger things to worry about,” he said, nodding at the floor.
“How will we know when they have gone?” I asked.
“Well if we are lucky they will go in daylight, then we will see them through the window.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I don’t know,” he said simply.
I reached across to the bucket of water. “Duncan are you thirsty little man?”
“Momma give Duncan a drink?”
I nodded, “Yes darling, mummy will give you a drink.”
“I don’t suppose you have any other food on you?” I said to Simon, as Duncan drank the water from my cupped hands.
He shook his head. “No, I gave Duncan all I had yesterday.”
“We will just have to manage till they go then,” I said, hoping Duncan would not ask for food.
There was a rustle of noise downstairs and we both lowered our heads to the floor in the hope of hearing the muffled conversation. Catching the odd word, I looked across at Simon.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Aye, I think they are going.”
“Bad men going?” Duncan asked.
“Shhh,” I said, “You must whisper Duncan, remember what mummy told you last night?”
The little boy reached up, putting his mouth to my ear. “Bad men going?”
“Yes darling. We will be able to go back into the house soon.”
The kitchen fell silent and the noise of loud movement resonated from outside the house. Simon crawled carefully across to the window, and watched as the soldiers left. Eventually, he stood up and our whispers ceased. Simon pushed the hatch open a crack and peered through the hole. “I think they have gone,” he said, letting the hatch swing open. Simon dropped through the hole and onto the ladder, landing on the kitchen floor with a thud. “Pass me the boy,” he said sharply.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Just pass me the boy.”
Doing as he had asked, I fed Duncan through the hole and down to his father. As soon as I put my head through the hole it was obvious what was wrong with Simon.
“Simon what have they done?” I gasped in horror.
“Ransacked the damn house, Corran, that’s what they’ve done.”
“Mess, broken,” said Duncan, looking up at his father, his eyes wide with confusion.
Dropping onto the floor I knelt beside my little boy, putting my arms protectively around him. “Don’t worry Duncan, mummy and daddy will fix the mess.”
Simon clenched his fists with rage and kicked at a broken chair on the floor. The legs flew across the room and crashed against the wall.
“Don’t do that Simon, you are scaring Duncan,” I shouted as Duncan started to cry.
Simon did not answer me but turned and stormed from the room.
“Come Duncan,” I said, straightening and taking his hand. “Are you hungry?” He nodded his little red head. “Well let’s see if there is anything left to eat,” I finished, turning toward the meat store.
Eventually I was forced to explore the rest of the house and surveyed the damage with horror. There could be no justification for the destruction the soldiers had left. As we moved into Duncan’s room I stared with horror at his broken cot and slashed mattress. His little face crumpled as he bent to pick up the wooden horse Simon had carved for him. “Momma, Polly horse broken,” he said running his fingers over the snapped wooden legs of the toy.
“I know sweetheart, daddy will fix it for you,” I soothed.
******
CHAPTER 22
Simon had been away most of the day and I did not see him until the sun had set. I gathered the men had survived our visitors, as they had turned out into the fields to see to what cattle we had left. My day had been mostly spent salvaging what I could from the ruins of the house. I guessed they had chosen not to destroy our bed out of self interest, but sadly that was one of the only pieces of furniture we had left. Finding some clean bedding, I stripped the alcohol-stained sheet off the mattress and threw it in the fire. I watched as the white linen smoldered and burned. Stoking the fire, I dropped the pillow covers onto the flames.
The image and smell of them in our bed, in our room, in our house, haunted my mind each time I closed my eyes. I guessed that Simon too had demons to face, as he sat next to me on the bed, just staring into the darkness. I rested my hand on his arm. “Come to sleep, darling,” I coaxed gently.
He lowered his head. “In a bit Corran. You go back to sleep, I will settle down soon.”
I awoke as dusk fell and the wind howled outside, lashing at the snow-covered rocks. I listened from within the sanctuary of our cozy hovel in the mountainside. I glanced over at the little girl, Giorsal; she was asleep; curled in a corner crevice, with her mother protectively kneeling beside her. Old man Dùghall and Marta on the opposite side of the enclosure, also asleep, huddled together for warmth and companionship. Their hands entwined in a knot of love. It took my mind to my friends Nansaidh and Daniel and the day they were wed. My heart sunk as I considered the possible reasons why Daniel was not here with us. I moved, slowly and cautiously toward Nansaidh and her sleeping child. Nansaidh raised her head and I felt the pain in her dark eyes.
“Come, sit with me, Corran, we will be warmer together.” Her words were softly spoken, her tone gentle but her voice told of a broken spirit. I nudged up to her, taking her free hand in mine. I wished desperately that I could tell her that in the morning all would be alright, that this was just some torturous nightmare that would all be over by tomorrow. I clutched at her hand.
“My friend, I must know where Daniel is?” I was whispering, trying not to disturb our companions in their sleep. Nansaidh sighed, slowly and deliberately before answering.
“He went back to the glen with the chief’s sons to bury their father, beneath the stones of Saint Munde’s chapel on Eilean Munde. We were traveling with the MacDonald brothers when we found their mother, practically naked, confused and battered at the foot of the mountain pass and she told us what had happened. We bandaged he
r fingers where the soldiers had hacked off her rings with their teeth. Dùghall carried her, wrapped in his plaid up the passes, but she died soon after her sons and Daniel left. We could not save her, Corran.”
Nansaidh’s hand was warm and damp in mine. I squeezed it reassuringly as she struggled to retell the last moments of the old lady’s life. I felt her relax a little, as she continued, “John MacDonald is our new Chief MacIain; but God only knows my friend, he has no clan to lead.”
I could see the horror in her eyes and the pain in her soul. It tore at my heart and I felt the most horrendous desperation to erase her pain.
Sighing heavily she continued, her voice thin and weak.
“The MacDonald brothers said it was the English King who had sent the Campbells to slaughter their father. It was the Campbell soldiers who shot Old MacIain, through the head. Under the guise of friendship they gained entry to the old man’s house, telling his servants that they had come to thank the Old Fox for his hospitality. That they were leaving for Glengarry’s lands. He believed them and rose from his bed, pulling on his trousers, in readiness to share a wee dram to toast his guests’ parting. But they had come for murder under trust, not whisky. Two shots they fired. One straight through our chief’s body, the other covered his wife with his brains.”
Rivers of sorrow and grief soaked our cheeks as we clung to each other for strength and support. We sobbed uncontrollably from the pain of mourning, desperation and fear. Through my sobs I felt the anger rising, bubbling in my heart like a cauldron of molten hatred. Nansaidh leaned toward me, clutching my hand to her heart. I stared at her, wordlessly, unable to understand what she could see. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of the meaning behind the deep knowing in her eyes.
“Why am I here, what must I do?” My voice shook with fear of the unknown. I was bitterly afraid of what her answer would be. She squeezed my hand firmly and I knew it was for the courage to do what she was about to tell me.
“You must go back to the village, Corran, and there you will find your destiny.”
“My destiny? How can it be that my destiny is where my family and friends have just died? I don’t understand Nansaidh.”
“You don’t have to understand Corran; you just have to go back.”
“But if I go back to the village, what will you do my friend? Where will you all go?”
“We will be fine Corran. Dùghall will take us to his family in Appin, we will be safe there.”
I wanted to argue with my friend, find a reason why I should not go, why it would be better if I stayed with them and traveled to Appin, but I knew in my heart that she was right.
Trembling and soaked with sweat, I awoke. The room was dark, the night air warm. I looked around confused. Simon was asleep, in the bed beside me.
“Simon, wake up, please?”
In an instant he sat bolt upright in bed, his dirk in hand. “What, Corran, what is it?” he said, his voice urgent and panicked.
“I don’t know Simon. I just don’t know.”
“What woman? What are you on about? Are they back?” he shouted.
“No... No, Simon, I am sorry, it’s not the Red Coats.”
He grunted loudly, “You damn stupid woman. You scared me half to death.”
“I am sorry,” I repeated softly.
He reached across and lit the candle. “What is it? You look dreadful. Are you ill?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I answered, still trembling.
“Talk to me woman,” he barked, moving the candle to in front of my face. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”
“I... I feel like I have,” I whispered.
“What?” he said irritated.
“It was a dream, Simon, I had a dream. Like the one I told you about last night. My friends were there again and we helped each other, in the mountains, after the massacre. They told me about Old MacIain. That he had been shot by the Red Coats as he was getting out of his bed. That the Red Coats covered his wife with his brains when they shot him in the head and bit off her fingers to get her rings.”
The color in his face drained and his eyes narrowed. “Tell me Corran, and tell me now, how did you know how Old MacIain died?”
I shook my head frantically, not understanding how I knew myself. “I just told you, Simon. I had a dream and my friends... they told me.”
He turned from me and put the candle on the table by the bed. Leaning across the bed he grabbed hold of my shoulders.
“Don’t be clever with me Corran. Tell me the truth woman or by God I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Stop it Simon, you are frightening me,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.
“Then you tell me how it is you have come to know? There is only one man alive that could have told you that and last time I saw him he shot me.”
I gawped in stunned silence as he stormed from our room.
The matter was far from settled the following morning.
Up before dawn, Simon left the house without so much as a 'good morning'. I watched him through the kitchen window in the fields with the men. There was not much to be salvaged if truth be told. The soldiers had destroyed pretty much everything they didn’t take. A few cattle and sheep had escaped, but the hens and geese were all gone, the crops ruined and the shelters and fences broken beyond repair. I doubted whether we would ever recover.
That night we sat, again, in silence, the only light being that from the moon which shone in a thin silver line through the crack in the shutters.
I raised my hand to his arm, but he moved his arm swiftly away. “Don’t be like this Simon, please?”
“Like what, Corran?”
“Distant and withdrawn from me, like I have done something to hurt you.”
“How can you expect me to trust you?”
“Trust?” I asked in surprise. “I don’t understand. Why would you not trust me?”
“Tell me Corran, how do you know so much about the massacre? You told me in the glen that you had fled, that you had died on the mountain and that all you knew was that your grandmother had been killed and the village destroyed. How is it do you now suddenly know what Angus did?”
“But I don’t know what your cousin did. I only know what I saw in my dream.”
“Explain this to me, Corran? How did Angus find me in York? Why did he try to kill only me and why did he let you live?”
I stared at him, wide eyed. “I don’t know, Simon, I had not thought about it. All I know is what I saw in my dream.”
“Dream? Do you really expect me to believe that you learned all that from a dream? Come on Corran, you must think me very stupid.”
I shook my head madly. “No Simon, I don’t think you are stupid and you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I can’t make you.”
“Swear,” he shouted. “Swear that you have never met with my cousin on your own.”
“I swear, Simon... that I have never met with your cousin through choice and never without your knowledge. I don’t know anything of the man, apart from what you have told me.”
I met his eyes. “Don’t hate me Simon, please? I love you and I don’t know what you are thinking but I would never hurt you.”
“I’ll tell you, Corran, you stay away from Angus.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I watched his rage, my hands shook with the fear of what he was going to do. “How can I make you see Simon? What do you want me to do?”
“Damn it woman, I don’t know myself,” he said, getting out of bed and moving to the door.
“As God is my witness, Simon, I love you and I swear that I had nothing to do with your cousin finding us.”
“I want to believe you Corran,” he said, flinging the door open and leaving the room.
“Mamma?” I looked up to see Duncan standing in the doorway of the room.
“Hello sweetheart,” I said, wiping frantically at my tear-stained face.
“Mamma why is dadda so cross?”
“Don’t worry about it darling. dadda is just tired; he will be alright in a while. Come and climb into dadda’s bed, you can sleep here for a bit.”
Later that night, Simon returned to our room and lifted the sleeping child back into his own cot. I was not asleep and heard him move the child.
“Is Duncan alright?” I asked when he returned to our room.
“Aye, he is fine.”
“I am sorry,” I said, choking back tears.
“No, Corran, it is I that am sorry,” he whispered, kissing me lightly. I could smell the whisky, thick on his breath and knew he was drunk.
“I love you, Simon.”
“I know,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Can you forgive me for my foolishness?”
“Oh Simon, you are not foolish, but you have to trust me, I love you more than life itself. I have done nothing wrong.”
“I know,” he murmured, pulling me to him.
******
CHAPTER 23
Ellem 1708
Thomas Fraser and Simon sat hunched, opposite each other across the kitchen table, wearing equally grim expressions.
“Can I get you both something to drink?” I asked, making my way toward a jug of ale on top of the sideboard.
Simon raised his head slightly. “Aye, Corran that would be good.”
“What is wrong?” I asked, passing him the jug and two mugs. He nodded his thanks, taking them from me.
“James Stuart has tried to land in Fife,” he said.
“James Stuart?” I said, with shock. “What is he doing back here? I thought his father had fled to France. He wants to hope the English don’t get word of it.”
Simon scowled. “They have had word of it Corran. He has gone back to France.”
“Oh, well that’s fine then,” I said, shrugging.
“No, Corran, that isn’t fine. He could have put an end to this damn union, but now we are back to where we started.”
I shook my head. “He can’t come back here, Simon and you know it.”