When Fate Dictates

  “Duncan, you know you were born in York?”

  “Aye, so you have told me, pa.”

  “Well what your Mother and I have not told you is that we found you, as a tiny baby, only a few hours old, in a basket on the banks of a river in York.” Simon paused, eyes fixed on our son.

  “Duncan, you were a precious gift from God to us, but when we found you, we thought for sure you would die. Somehow, you didn’t,” I said, moving my eyes across to meet the boy. “The thing is Duncan; you were named after Simon’s uncle, because right from those first, precious moments of life, Simon knew you were his blood.”

  “Although it has taken me nineteen years to admit it,” Simon interrupted.

  “Your real father is the red-haired man who shot you in our kitchen. He is also Simon’s brother,” I finished.

  “The stag you saw when he shot you is what saved you as a baby. It has saved your mother and me and it would seem, your blood father too. What you must know Duncan, is that it can’t save you twice from your first death, and I think for you that was, starvation. For your mother, it was freezing and for me it was the wound of a bullet. For the man who is your blood father, it was a blade of knife,” Simon finished.

  “That’s right boy. It was the cut across my throat that took my first life.”

  Slowly out of the shadows of the trees, walked Angus, his pistol trained on Simon.

  “So there we have it, Simon. When I pull this trigger you will die forever,” he paused, scanning the circle of people around the fire. “But,” he shouted theatrically, “we wouldn’t want to end the fun so soon.”

  I moved my eyes toward Simon and caught the sleight of his hand as it slid to his side, where I knew he had a dirk.

  “So, the woman is immortal too? Well that explains a few things, but doesn’t concern me right now.”

  “Leave my family out of this Angus. It is me you want, not them.”

  “Oh, but that is where you are wrong little brother... if I heard right, then you have my son.”

  “You may have fathered him, Angus, but he is nothing like you!” shouted Simon as he edged his way toward the man.

  “He seems to have inherited my ability to live, but then our father gave you that curse as well. Did you know it was a family curse, Simon?”

  “I remember the stories that Duncan told us both, if that is what you mean but I hardly see how the highland stag’s gift of immortality can be seen as a curse?”

  “Aye, you recall that pretty little tale of the stag and its ‘gift’ of immortality to Highland families, but what about the curse little brother, what about the catch?”

  “I take it you are talking about the legend that says the stag can only save one generation in a bloodline at a time?” growled Simon.

  “Aye, little brother, and that is why you and the boy must die.”

  “So that you can reclaim your immortality? You are a sick man, sick,” snarled Simon.

  “Sick or not, Simon, I intend to live forever and I can’t do that while you and the boy live.”

  “Then why did you shoot me in York, if you knew you would lose your immortality as soon as I called on the stag?”

  “Well you see, Simon I had to do it to know the manner of your first death, so that I could use it again to finish you for good.” But what I could not be certain of, until I overheard your cozy little chat, was whether I had got to you first.”

  “Aye and you didn’t know of Duncan either,” Simon whispered.

  “No, little brother, that I didn’t. A small complication, but now I know the manner of his first death I can finish you off and deal with the boy later. The final prize will be mine, Simon, all mine.”

  Suddenly I understood. Angus was no longer able to call on the stag, which meant the man could die, just like any other. My mind whirled in frantic calculation. I knew what I had to do. Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the two men, I reached for the pistol on the floor beside me.

  I screamed as the sound of a fired gun echoed in the air around me; I smelled the musky smoke of the powder and watched as the man with the red hair fell heavily backwards. Slowly, as though in a dreamy haze I turned to see my son holding the fired pistol. Simon turned and slowly walked toward his son.

  “Give me the pistol, son,” he said, holding his hand out, palm side up. “Come on boy, let it go,” he whispered, laying his hand over the curve of the barrel. Gently he removed the weapon from Duncan and strode purposefully toward the lifeless form of his brother. He towered over the body, staring down at the bloodied mess.

  “He isn’t dead,” he said, eventually.

  “What do you mean he isn’t dead?” I questioned desperately. “He isn’t immortal anymore, he must be dead.”

  “No, but wee Duncan isn’t much of a shot.”

  “Finish it Simon,” I yelled, “Get rid of him.”

  He shook his head, slowly. “No, Corran, I won’t shoot a man who is defenseless.”

  “Dear God, Simon, if you don’t shoot him now he will come back for us, and next time it could be you or Duncan lying dead.”

  “The wound may yet kill him, Corran, but I won’t shoot him in cold blood.”

  “So you don’t mind the fact that he will come looking for you again then?” I snapped.

  “Oh, aye, I mind very much, but not so much as I would mind killing the man when he can’t defend himself. I will fight him fair and square but I won’t take his life whilst he is down.”

  “Well what do we do now then?” I spat. “Sit here and nurse him back to health so you can have a fair fight with the man?”

  “No, we leave him and hope the wound kills him. Smother the fire Duncan and saddle the horses. Corran and Eilidh pack up the camp, we must leave now.”

  I slipped my hand into the pocket of my skirt and felt the cold sharp blade of my dirk. Absently I wandered toward the injured man, kneeling beside him. My finger ran along the hard steel edge and I felt the sticky damp of my blood as it seeped from the cut. I stared into his unconscious face, and then let my eyes wander across the blackened mess of his arm. I could end it all with one simple slice of the blade.

  “Don’t do it Corran.” I lifted my head to see Simon standing across from me.

  “If you won’t kill him, Simon, then I will, because I can’t live with the fear of him finding us.”

  “If you do, Corran, then your cross will be a lot heavier. Fear you can fight, but guilt is a terrible thing to live with.”

  He moved beside me and bending toward me put his arms gently around my waist. “Come, Corran, leave him,” he coaxed, guiding me toward the cart.

  “Damn you Simon,” I growled.

  “Eilidh, take the reins, we must go before someone stumbles upon this mess. Angus is still a soldier of the British King and I don’t really want to be explaining what he is doing in this sorry state.”

  The young girl nodded, her hands trembling as she clicked the reins.

  Simon mounted his horse and slipped behind the cart; Duncan rode on ahead of us. The cart moved, slowly at first, and then as Eilidh clicked hard on the reins our pace became frantic.

  “Do you think someone will find him?” Eilidh whispered.

  “Let’s just pray he is dead if they do,” I cursed under my breath.

  ******

  CHAPTER 30

  A single candle burnt slowly on an ancient table. Tiny sparks of light shone from the fire. The flicker of light from the candle caught the polished brass of a ship’s bell and an old woman stared blankly across the room as she rocked gently in a chair beside the hearth. Outside the wind howled through the trees as the rain pounded the walls of the thatched cottage. Duncan huddled in a corner of the room. Simon lifted a jug from the table and filled a pewter mug with ale.

  “I knew you would come, my boy,” the old woman whispered, “but tell me Simon, who is with you?”

  “My wife, Corran,” Simon replied.

  “Your wife? Is she a good woman to you, Simon?”

>   I opened my mouth to object to her tone, but Simon held up his hand in warning to me.

  “Yes, ma, she is a good woman.”

  “But you have others with you? Why do you not tell me of them?” she inquired.

  “Because ma, I need you to tell me something first.”

  “This day has been a long time in coming. But you know, Simon, that you are not safe here?”

  “I know ma. This will not take long,” he paused, drinking hard from the jug. “I have seen Angus.”

  “And now you want to understand?” she said slowly.

  “Aye, ma that I do.”

  “Pass me that shawl, will you Simon? The air is cold tonight,” the old lady said, pointing in the direction of her bed.

  Simon gently wrapped the woolen shawl over his mother’s shoulders and bent slightly to kiss to her gently on the forehead.

  “Is that better, ma?”

  The old lady nodded slowly. “Aye, that is better. Thank you my boy.”

  “Would you like a mug of ale, ma?”

  “Not now, but you can pour me one before you leave.”

  “Will you tell me ma, about Angus, Duncan and my da?”

  “It was all such a long time ago now,” she began, pulling the shawl tighter around her frail body. “Your da was away at sea such a lot. Oh dear, Simon, I know that is no excuse, but Angus’s mother died and Duncan was left to raise him alone; I had no child of my own so I helped out as much as I could with Angus. The years went by and I fell in love with Duncan. Your da knew, but he was away such a lot, and he had his own life at sea, so I don’t think he minded too much what I did.”

  “So da knew all along that he wasn’t my father?” Simon said his voice little more than a whisper.

  “Aye, lad, he did, but we agreed that you should not know.”

  “But why? Why let me grow up believing the wrong man was my father?”

  “Because, Simon, there was no good that could come of you, or anyone else, knowing that Duncan was your blood father.”

  “Was that because of the stag?” he asked.

  “Aye, Simon, it is because of the stag. Immortality!” she spat, her voice heavy with the bitter taste of hate. “They call it a gift. Did you know that, Simon?”

  “Aye, ma, I have heard it said.”

  “Tell me? How can a gift bring so much pain?”

  “I don’t know ma... I really don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you how, Simon, when it comes with conditions that set each generation against each other in the pursuit of eternal life. Did you know that your da had the gift first?”

  “No ma, I didn’t.”

  “Oh aye, your da called on the stag the first time he went to sea and from that moment on, your grandfather became mortal.”

  “Then why did da die?”

  “Because, Simon, Duncan had to call on the stag and as soon as he did, your da, like your grandfather, lost his immortality.”

  “So it really does come only to the youngest of a bloodline?”

  “Yes, my boy, it does.”

  “So Angus killed Duncan to claim the stag for himself? But did Angus not know about me?”

  “He had a suspicion that you were his brother but Duncan refused to confirm it. It was me, Simon, I told him, when he held the pistol to Duncan’s head. Can you ever forgive me Simon?”

  “Ma, I don’t blame you. But what I don’t understand is why Angus killed Duncan? Surely the stag would have come for him whether Duncan was dead or not?”

  “You are right, Simon. Angus could have claimed his birth right from Duncan any time he wanted. There was no need to take his life for it.”

  “So he took Duncan’s life simply because he could?”

  “Aye, he did,” she whispered softly, “but I also think that Angus wanted to test the condition.”

  “What do you mean, ma?”

  “The stag can’t save you from the manner of your first death twice. When Duncan claimed his immortality from your da, it was because he was shot, in ‘85, when the MacDonalds raided our cattle.”

  “Tell me ma, if Angus manages to live without need for the stag, will he age and die like any other man?”

  The old lady turned her head slowly toward Simon. “No, lad, he will not age. The man could live forever, unless he is killed, that is.”

  “Ma, there is something I must tell you.”

  She smiled, softly, the wrinkles on her worn face deepening as she did. “Aye, you must tell me who these other people are?”

  “I have Angus’s son with me,” he said, bluntly.

  “Then you are in a lot of danger, my boy,” the old lady warned.

  “No, ma, you don’t understand. The lad has the look of his father but his ways are those of his grandfather.”

  “His ways are not your problem, Simon. His father is. How old is this boy?”

  “He is a man, ma. We found him as a baby, on the banks of a river in York. We didn’t know who his parents were, but we raised him as our own.”

  “Has he claimed the stag?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma, he has, and so have I.”

  She nodded slowly, her face creased with fear. “Then Angus will find you both.”

  “Don’t worry ma, we will be fine.”

  She shook her head fiercely. “No, Simon, you won’t be fine.” With an effort far greater than any I had seen her exert, she lifted her hand and waved it limply in the direction of a chest of drawers. “Open the top drawer, Simon,” she ordered.

  He moved swiftly toward it, doing as she had asked. “Why, ma, what’s wrong?”

  “Take the drawer out and empty it. It has a false bottom. Remove it and you will find a wooden box.”

  Simon tipped the contents of the draw onto the ancient table. Intrigued, Duncan and I moved closer in order to see what he was doing. He removed his dirk from its pouch and slid it along the edge of the base. It lifted slightly in one corner. Using the blade for leverage he raised the false bottom from the draw. A tiny wooden box sat cushioned amongst some faded linen.

  “What is it ma?” Simon asked, lifting the lid off the box.

  “It is what Angus used to find you. A Highland Crystal.”

  “A what?” I blurted.

  “Hello, my dear. I take it you are Simon’s wife.”

  I clapped my hand across my mouth. “Err, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It is nice to put a voice to the body,” the old lady said, a smile curling at the corner of her thin lips.

  I watched in awe as Simon removed the tiny oval crystal set in badly tarnished silver, from its box and rested it in the palm of his hand.

  “It is warm, ma.”

  “Aye, my boy, it will be, for you.”

  “I don’t understand. What is it for?” Simon asked.

  “It will show you what you need to see.”

  There was an awkward silence as we all watched and waited for the old lady to finish her explanation. But when she made no further effort to talk, Simon tried again. “Ma, what do you mean?”

  “Angus has one. I don’t know where he got it from but it is how he found you. This one was Duncan’s.”

  “How did Angus use a crystal ball to find me?” Simon said, growing agitated.

  “You will learn to use it, my boy,” she replied.

  “Simon, I think your ma is tired. We should leave her,” I whispered.

  “I am blind young lady, not deaf,” the old woman said, moving her head toward me. “But you are right, you must leave here. This is not a safe place for you. There are many in this village who have not forgotten that you deserted the King of England at Glencoe. Go my boy and don’t come back.”

  “But ma...”

  “No, Simon, you must go from Glenlyon. Take the crystal and remember always that I love you. Oh, and one more thing,” she paused, “keep it in its box until you know how to use it.”

  The night was wild as we fought our way from the cottage toward the dense forests of Glenlyon. We stopped
eventually in a clearing, where two horses waited patiently, tethered to the trunk of an ancient tree. Simon and I mounted one horse, and Duncan sprang onto the other. Our pace was frantic, but guarded, as we moved swiftly east. The other two horses and wagons were in Dundee, safely guarded by Eilidh. There was no time to lose. Every minute we spent in the area of Simon’s home village we risked detection and capture. His ma had been right; memories were long. The massacre of Glencoe may have been publicly condemned, but a deserter, no matter the reason, remained a traitor to the King and his country. In these parts, the King of England was an ally and a friend, second only in importance to God himself. Immortality had its boundaries and I had no wish to see the Crown test them on Simon.

  It was late the following evening before we finally reached the inn. Eilidh stared at us, with a long worried look as we entered the room.

  “It’s alright lass, you needn’t look so fearful,” said Simon, heading toward the jug of ale on the table.

  “Is everything alright?” the young girl asked, quietly.

  “Yes, Eilidh, everything is fine,” I replied, moving to give her a hug.

  “Eilidh, are the horses and wagon alright?” Duncan asked, joining his father at the table.

  “Aye, Duncan, they are,” she replied.

  “I am famished. Is there any food in here?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Duncan. I didn’t know when you would be back. Would you like me to order some food from downstairs?”

  “Duncan, your stomach can wait till the morning. I am exhausted and so is your pa. Eilidh and I will sleep on the bed; you and your pa can make up a bed by the fire,” I said, filling a mug with ale for myself.

  The morning broke, dull and gray, the open shutters displaying a sky heavy with the threat of snow. Soft orange flames rose from the coals of the fire as Simon set the tiny wooden box on top of the table.

  I rubbed my forehead as a nagging fear dragged painfully on my thoughts. Duncan and Eilidh watched in anticipation as Simon slowly lifted the lid off the box.