High on a Mountain (13 page)

Sometimes, he wore like a burdensome yoke the
results of his choice to marry. But at other times, he abandoned
himself entirely to the fulfillment his marriage brought him,
experiencing a contentment and joy like no other. At those times,
he knew he wanted nothing more than a life with his beloved.

The attempt to reconcile his desire for a
life of freedom and adventure with his desire for a settled life
with Mùirne had not been easy for him. Sometimes he failed and made
both himself and Mùirne unhappy. But at other times, he succeeded
in making himself believe he was contented with his lot in life and
needed nothing else.

The path skirted the side of the hill and led
down to cross a small
bùrn
. As always, Ailean stopped, and,
after looking around to be sure no attackers hid in the brush, he
laid down his stick and knelt on the lowest part of the bank. He
scooped the icy water with his cupped hands and drank, then dipped
more water to wet his face. The day was cool and he wasn’t
sweating, but this was a custom of his, started when he was a boy
watching his father drink, then wash his face, when coming
home.

He rose, dusted his knees, picked up his
stick and stepped across the narrow
bùrn
, continuing on the
path as it followed the rise in the land. Almost home. He crested
the hill and saw the small community of cottages below. He walked
faster as he neared his home. And Mùirne.

“Hello, the house.” He shouted a greeting, as
always.

A small figure hurtled through the open door
of his cottage. His small son, Coinneach-òg, ran toward him,
yelling,
“Daidein, Daidein!”

Ailean laughed in delight at his son’s
heartfelt greeting, and he leaned down to tousle the curly blond
hair. Coinneach-òg lifted his arms, trying to persuade his father
to pick him up.

“What?” Ailean said in mock surprise. “You
want me to hold you?”

“Yes, yes, I want a ride. Please.”

Ailean laid down his stick, lifted the small
boy and swung him onto his shoulders. Coinneach-òg giggled, put his
arms around his father’s head and hung on while Ailean skipped and
jumped about. Soon, they were both laughing hard. Mùirne came to
the door and watched their antics with a blissful smile.

At last, breathless and flushed from
exertion, Ailean took Coinneach-òg from his shoulders and set him
on the ground.

“That’s enough for today. I think you must
grow an inch and a pound every week, son. You’re tiring your old da
out.”

Coinneach-òg looked up at his father, a
yearning showing in his eyes, and Ailean knew he wanted more. But
the boy did not whine, did not beg. Coinneach-òg’s manly acceptance
of his father’s decision pleased Ailean.

I’m raising a fine son. Maybe someday he will
be the warrior I wanted to be.

The boy picked up the walking stick and
followed his father to the open door where his mother leaned
against the door jamb. He watched his parents as they greeted each
other.

“Welcome home, wanderer,” Mùirne said, as she
looked into Ailean’s eyes. “Come sit down and eat. We were waiting
for you. I thought you’d probably be back today.”

She took Ailean’s hand and led him inside.
Coinneach-òg followed and put the walking stick in its place by the
door.

Ailean closed the door. He removed his bonnet
and hung it on a peg. He took off his sword and hung it next to his
targe and went to his chair by the fire. He sighed in contentment
as he sat.

“Ah,” he said. “It’s good to be home.”

He lifted his son to his knee and watched
Mùirne dip stew from the iron pot suspended over the fire. She
poured it into wooden bowls and sliced a thick slab of oaten bread
for each of them. A wavy tendril of red hair escaped from her white
linen curtch and hung loose beside her cheek. He watched as the
light from the dancing flames of the fire played across her pretty
features.

How is it that I, of all men, am so
blessed to have won the heart of one so beautiful?
Desire
stirred within his body.

“It’s time to eat. Go sit on your chair,”
Ailean told Coinneach-òg.

The little boy got down from his father’s
knee and scrambled onto his own chair. Mùirne gave them each a bowl
of stew and took her seat on the other side of the fire. They bowed
their heads and Ailean offered thanks to God for their food.

Ailean took a bite of the steaming vegetable
stew. “Ah, that tastes good. I missed your cooking while I was
gone. Dry bread and cheese lose their appeal after a day or
two.”

Mùirne smiled.

“So, what did you do while I was away in
Inveraray, son?”

“I watched for enemies and took care of Ma,”
the little boy said.

“You’re a fine, brave little man,” his father
said. “You’re going to be a great warrior someday.”

“And I helped Ma clean the wool,”
Coinneach-òg added, his face displaying his yearning for more of
his father’s approval.

“Aye, and a good wool-cleaner he is, that
boy,” his mother said, flashing a smile at her son. “He didn’t make
even one mat in the fleece, and he got his part as clean as could
be.”

Coinneach-òg beamed.

“And how much did you get cleaned?” Ailean
asked his wife, between bites of bread.

“Just a bit more, and I’ll have finished all
our fleece. When I have it all cleaned and spun, I’ll have to wait
until next spring for more,” Mùirne replied.

She took a bite and swallowed before she
continued. She asked the question Ailean knew she had wanted to ask
the moment he walked through the door. “And were you
successful?”

“Aye,” he replied. “That I was. A few more
coins for the bag.”

Mùirne smiled. Her work tending their small
Highland sheep, collecting the wool they shed, cleaning, carding
and spinning the wool into thread to sell was slowly adding to the
small hoard of coins they were saving.

When they finished eating, Mùirne looked at
Coinneach-òg. “Son, go tell your grandma that your da is home.”

“But, I want to—” Coinneach-òg began.

“You do as your mother says,” Ailean said.
“Maybe your grandma has some bonny clabber. If you’re a good boy,
she might give you some.”

Coinneach-òg’s face brightened. “I like it
the way Grandma fixes it.” He slid off his chair and trotted
outside without another word of protest.

Muirne followed him to the door and closed it
behind him. She lowered the bar to lock it, crossed the room and
knelt by the wall. She pulled a small, loose stone from it, put her
hand into the hole and drew out a leather pouch.

She moved her chair closer to Coinneach-og’s
and sat. She shook the contents of the pouch onto her son’s chair
and looked expectantly at her husband.

Ailean fished in his
sporan
for the
money and laid it on the chair by the other coins. “You’ve done
well, lass,”

She painstakingly counted the money from the
pouch, then added the newly acquired coins to the total, a little
ritual she always performed whenever they had a coin or two to add
to their savings.

“Look how much we have now. Doesn’t that look
good,” she asked as she smiled at Ailean. “My work is worth
something, isn’t it?”

Ailean smiled, happy to see her so pleased
with herself. “Yes, it is. But you are worth more, my love. You are
worth more than the work you do, worth more than all the coins in
the world,” he said as he watched her rise from her chair.

“We’ll have enough to buy Coinneach-òg his
sword and targe by the time he’s of an age to need them, won’t
we?”

“Yes, my love. I’m sure we’ll have more than
enough for his equipment.”

Ailean stood, circled the fire to stand
behind her and put his arms around her waist. He leaned over to
kiss the nape of her neck, nuzzling the curtch aside. She turned
her face toward his and smiled at him over her shoulder. She leaned
her head back on his chest briefly, turned toward him and put her
arms around his waist. She lifted her face to receive his kiss on
her lips.

“It’s getting dark outside,” he murmured.
“And I’m getting so-o-o tired…” His voice trailed away.

“Then to bed with you.” Mùirne sighed and
released him. She pulled away and leaned over to gather the coins
into the pouch.

“Not without you, my love,” he said, taking
her in his arms again.

____________

A physical need for him swept through her.
She enjoyed a few moments in his arms, then pulled herself away,
leaned back and looked up at him, her blue eyes brimming with love
and desire.

“Go call your son home from your da’s. You
must listen to his prayers and put him to bed while I wash the
dishes. Then I’ll put
you
to bed.”

Ailean smiled and released her.

After Mùirne replaced the money pouch in the
hiding place, Ailean raised the bar and opened the door. He glanced
back at her and smiled again. “You be ready for me, lass, when I
get back,” he said. And he was gone.

She smiled and blushed.
He still has the
power to bring color to my cheeks. Even after all this
time.

And she was thankful he did. She kept smiling
in anticipation of the night ahead as she cleaned up from their
meal.

____________

Latharn Cambeul’s success at managing the
tack he inherited from his father became known beyond the limits of
his clan. The wealth he’d inherited increased due to his tireless
efforts and shrewd decisions. He seemed to be everywhere, all the
time, supervising his crofters, trying new methods of farming,
extracting profit from every endeavor.

Mothers decorated their unmarried daughters,
schooled them in the feminine art of flirtation and pushed them at
Latharn, but he showed no interest in marrying and sharing his
fortune. All his energies were expended on money-making
activities.

There was considerable speculation about his
reluctance to pursue the fairer sex, but no one knew why he was
apparently content to lead an austere and disciplined existence.
Odhran and Dùghall knew the reason why, but they had learned a
frightening and painful lesson about the wisdom of maintaining
silence about anything concerning Latharn and did not speak of
it.

The two still accompanied him almost
everywhere he went. They were on hand to see the wistful, painful
expression on his face each time he passed the church building
which stood where MacLachlainn lands adjoined Cambeul territory.
The church where Ailean and Mùirne MacLachlainn had said their
vows. They also observed how every glimpse of any red-haired woman
caught his attention, how he could not rest until he knew who the
woman was.

And they were the ones he sent on secret
errands.

Latharn saw a small girl with curly red hair
and blue eyes one day in Inveraray. He dispatched his two men to
learn who she was. They discovered her father had been injured
while in service to the king and was crippled, and her mother did
what work she could find to provide for her destitute family.

After Latharn learned about their plight, the
family regularly found gifts of food on their doorstep, and once, a
new garment for the child had been left there, by whom, no one
knew. Except Odhran and Dùghall. And Latharn.

____________

Before sunset the day after Ailean’s return
from Inveraray, the men of the croft met in front of Aodh’s cottage
to make plans for the cattle drive. They decided which of them
would go to the
airigh
the next morning to search for any
steers that had strayed and start bunching the cattle in
preparation for the drive. The rest of the men would attend to all
the last minute chores on the croft and join them the following
evening. They would stay the night at the
airigh
so they
could get an early start for Dumbarton the next day.

They were almost finished with their
discussion when they heard a shout.

“Aodh! Aodh MacLachlainn!”

All the men turned to see who had yelled.
Ailean’s stomach knotted when he saw Ruairidh’s servant, Fearghus,
run down the hill toward them carrying a fiery cross.

SIXTEEN

When a man of Clan MacLachlainn saw a runner
carrying a fiery cross, he knew it meant one thing: he must arm
himself and go to Castle Lachlainn. Ailean had heard tales of the
fiery cross told at the
ceilidh
, though he’d never seen one
himself. A flood of excitement billowed up from his tightened
stomach into his chest.

Aodh raised his arm to signal Fearghus they’d
seen the summons. Fearghus spun around and ran back the way he’d
come. He had to deliver the message to other crofts.

The men glanced at one another with worried
expressions. All of them would have to answer the summons. Gabhran
MacEòghainn and his sons, Faolan and Gòrdan, as well as all the
MacLachlainns: Boisil and his sons, Raghnall and Seumas; Aodh and
his three sons; and Raibeart MacLachlainn. All the men kept
themselves trained and in readiness as warriors for their chief,
even though they were not often called upon to fulfill that
duty.

Although the MacEòghainns were not
MacLachlainns, they were a protectorate of Clan MacLachlainn and
therefore, part of the clan. Each man, whether MacLachlainn or
MacEòghainn, owed the chief loyalty and obedience, and all the men
of Clan MacLachlainn gladly gave it. The clansmen’s affection for
their chief was unwavering, their devotion to him fierce and
unquestioning.

The cattle drive would have to be
postponed.

Aodh told his sons, “Go and get yourselves
ready. Have something to eat now and bring along food for later.
And hurry.”

When Ailean went to his cottage, he found
Mùirne standing in the doorway, wringing her hands. She had been
bringing in the sheep from the day’s grazing, herding them into the
byre for the night and saw the runner.