Kilgannon (46 page)

Alex, we have, had differences in the past, Malcolm wrote, but I forgave you long ago and ask you now to come to the aid of your only brother. Let us put the past behind us and begin again. I beg you, for the name we share, come to my assistance. You cannot refuse to help me keep what little I have when you have so much.

I was instantly furious. How dare Malcolm forgive Alex when all the wrong was his? How dare he write so to his brother after all he had done? And how well he knew Alex, to write just what would tug at him; How I despised the man. I met Angus's angry eyes. "Is there no way to combat this?" I demanded.

"No," he said. "It is true. Mar is threatening his vassals." "You are going to join the rebellion." His voice was weary. "It's Alex's decision." I shook my head. "No. He'll turn it over to the clan. You know what will happen. Angus," I cried, "help me stop this!"

"Mary, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't. If we dinna join with them and the Jacobites win, then we are enemies and we will pay the price. All of Kilgannon will pay the price. They have thousands, between the MacDonalds and
Clanranald
. Eventually they would win. And if the Jacobites lose, then it will be the English coming to burn us out, surrounded as we are by Jacobites. The English willna take the time to sort out our politics. No, lass, we sink with the others or swim with them." I shook my head. "Mary," he said harshly. "What I think or ye think no longer matters. We've a decision to make that involves the whole of us. What we decide tonight will determine the future of clan MacGannon. And I dinna like either of the choices." He turned on his heel and left me alone. I stared after him, still holding Malcolm's letter.

It took me an hour to find Alex, walking on the rocks at the far end of the loch. He held his arms out as I ran to him, and I looked back at the castle from the shelter of his arms. Kilgannon I thought. "Alex—" I began, but he shook his head.

"Hush, lass," he said softly. "Dinna speak. Let me just hold ye and not face it yet." And so we stood on a rock and let the late-summer sun bathe us in light. Around us the activity increased and the clansmen began arriving. I knew he could see them, but he held me to him as though we had forever. "I'm glad ye were there," he said at last. "It would have been difficult to explain it to ye. And I'm grateful ye were wise enough to remain silent."

"You are going."

"That is yet to be decided."

I shook my head. "You decided in that room."

He dropped his arms from my shoulders. "No."

"Yes." He was silent, watching me. "Alex," I cried, "think of us! Think of all of us! We can defend ourselves. You've told me how safe Kilgannon is, how easy it: is to defend. We can sink a boat and prevent any ship from entering the harbor, and we can stay within the walls when there is danger."

His voice was quiet. "Forever? Forever, Mary?" "For as long as it takes. If the rising fails, they will not have the strength to attack us. They will forget and we'll go on."

"That's where yer wrong. They'll never forget. Glencoe was over twenty years ago and it's as if it were yesterday. If MacDonald declares us enemies, they will never forget. And neither will the English."

"Then we will defend ourselves."

"And what of those in the outlying areas? Am I to wall myself up and let them fend for themselves? And never leave? Let Duncan of the Glen and his family be left without my protection? Let them burn Glengannon without lifting a hand? Tell the fishermen they must stay within the walls? We'll stop all trade and never leave Loch Gannon while we cower within the walls? I dinna think so."

"The MacDonald wouldn't attack you."

"Make no mistake. If he decides we are enemies, he will."

"Do you know that you are contemplating treason?"

"Treason?" He faced me again, his eyes cold.

"If you join them, you will be taking arms against your king."

"Mary," he said, watching my face, "understand me well. I am not fond of the Stewarts, but never have I thought of your Geordie as my king. Scotland is my country, not England."

"They are united now. It is treason."

"Only the English would call it that." "I am English."

"Aye," he said, his jaw tightening. He looked over the-loch.

"It is treason, Alex. Can you not see that?"

"Aye, as the English define it, it is treason."

"If the English win, you will be called a traitor. At best we could lose Kilgannon."

"That willna happen."

"It could. You could die. You could face a traitor's death." "That willna happen." "It could."

He shifted his gaze and met my eyes. "And we could win."

"Against the English? Not likely."

He lifted his chin. "Do ye think so little of my abilities?"

"No." I shook my head. "But I think very little of Scotland's abilities to withstand England."

"So we are to submit again and this time learn to like it?" Blue eyes flashed at me. "Is that yer opinion, Mary? Do ye really think so little of my people?"

I waited until I could answer in a reasonable voice. "They are now my people too, Alex. I don't want you to go. I don't want to risk losing you."

"Ye'd not lose me." He looked over the loch. "You cannot guarantee that. If you loved me you'd stay here." He looked at me. "I do love ye, lass. Dinna say such things." "Alex, there is no reason to go. Malcolm is not threatened." "He is."

"I don't trust him. He's lying again."

"Aye, Mary, he is a liar, but he's also my brother. Would ye have a husband who refuses to help his own?"

"I don't trust him. Think of what he's done! He's lied and stolen from you, and he tried to kill you! He is a monster!"

"Ah, Mary, ye dinna understand him."

"You are defending him? After what he did to Sibeal? After the Diana? He's lying again. How can you not see this?"

"I am no' defending him, Mary. Mar has written to all his vassals. I've heard it from several sources. I am not surprised."

"Then perhaps that part is true, but how can you trust him? After he stole from you? After he lied to you?" "Mary, ye do no' understand. It's no' a matter of me trusting him or no'. I inherited
everything
. The title, the lands. It's verra hard on a younger son. He got—"

"He got your mother's lands, for which most men would be grateful. He got a wife who loved him, to whom he could not be faithful and to whom he showed only brutality when she complained of it. He got money and other aid from you even after he stole from you, and still it Is not enough for Malcolm MacGannon."

"Malcolm is my brother. I canna ignore his plea."

"Why not, Alex? You seem to be able to ignore mine easily. Do you choose Malcolm over me?"

"No, Mary, I wouldna do that. But I canna ignore him."

"Then you are a fool, Alex, and God help you both."

His eyes grew cold as he looked at me, then nodded curtly. "Aye, Mary, I am a fool. In that at least we agree" was all he said before he left me standing there.

The men of the clan met that evening. I was not invited nor did Alex come to me. I sat in our room and fumed. I knew he would go. Some part of me had known it since the day the MacKinnon came, but it was still difficult to face. I was so angry. At Alex, at Malcolm, at the MacDonald and James Stewart and all men who wage war without a thought to those whose lives are upturned by it. Or lost. Dear God, I thought, he could die for James Stewart, for Malcolm, for the MacDonald And then my fear was lost in the wave of anger that broke over me again. I did not even pretend to steep but paced and paced until I heard the whole house quiet. Where is he, I wondered? And my anger rose again and I paced.

In the early morning I could not stand it another moment and left our room. The hall was littered with men wrapped in their plaids, snoring, and I quietly made my way to the library. Angus sat before the fire, his legs extended to the hearth, his chin on his hand. He looked very tired and he was alone. He looked up as I entered. "He's not here, Mary," he said.

"Where is he?"

"I dinna ken. Walking, no doubt. He's not in the house." I moved to stand next to him. "Angus, what will we do?" "Hope we win." "Then you're going?"

He looked at me gravely. "Had ye any doubt?"

"Did any of you even think of us who will be left behind?"

Angus met my angry look without flinching. "Aye,
Mary
, ye crossed our minds. Do ye think that we do not know what we

do?"

"Angus," I cried, "there is a great excitement in the men. They want to go. I recognize it, but I do not understand it."

He looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "Aye, yer right, Mary, there is excitement for many, but not for Alex nor for me. We understand what it is we go to. Ye must trust us, lass. We do not go for glory."

"You go for Malcolm."

"No." It was Alex's voice, and I spun around. He filled the doorway, looking exhausted and grim. "We go for honor, Mary, and for loyalty, and if ye dinna understand both, I have misjudged ye."

"There is honor in staying here and protecting your own."

"That is not honor. And in the end it is certain defeat. If the rebellion wins without us, we will be driven out. If it loses without us, we will be hunted and destroyed to calm their anger and then the English will come."

"We can remain neutral," I said. "We can stand aside and let them fight around us."

"No. We canna."

"You mean you will not." We glared at each other.

"As ye will,
Mary
," he said, and turned away. I let him go and returned to my bed alone.

MO
RNING WAS NO BETTER. I ROSE LATE, STIFF AND tense and still angry. Downstairs there was no sign of Alex or Angus or Thomas. They did not come home for two days. I soon discovered that they had gone to the outlying areas to talk to clan members who had not come for the meeting. When Alex did return, he was gray-faced with weariness and nodded curtly to me as he passed me in the hall. Hours later I went to our room and found him asleep, still in his clothes. I spread a blanket over him and kissed his forehead. He stirred, reaching for me, and I slipped into his arms without a word. He slept again then and I rested in his arms, trying to persuade myself that it was all a dream, that I would wake and have our life back. I fell asleep still trying to convince myself.

I woke when he moved and opened my eyes to see him sitting on the side of the bed, brushing his hair back from his face and staring into space. He sighed as he stood and straightened his clothing. The room was dim, autumn's gloaming providing little light this evening. Below us the yard was quiet. He turned and we looked at each other for a long moment, then he reached a hand out to caress my cheek. His voice was gentle. "I love ye, Mary. Ye may not credit that, nor understand me, but I do love ye."

"I know, Alex. And I love you." "Aye, I ken ye do." He looked at the blanket, fingering the wool, then turned to stare into the shadows as he spoke in a flat voice. "I have sent word to the MacDonald that we'll be joining him. And we've sent Gilbey to get Matthew."

I did not speak. Having him put it into words made it almost tangible. I closed my eyes. This is not real, I told myself. When I said nothing he sighed again and quietly left.

I gradually realized that he had known he was going for a long time, but it struck me most intensely the morning that I came upon him supervising the unpacking of the last of the pistols. I had seen the boxes, neatly stacked in the bottom of the keep, but had not known what they were. After our discussion about their purchase we had not mentioned them again, although I had assumed that the pistols being used in the constant practicing were the new ones. The knowledge that it was time to unpack the last of them was unnerving. Angus and Dougall were showing the younger men how to load the pistols, while Alex sat on one of the barrels aiming at the wall opposite him, sighting down the barrel with one eye closed. I stood in the doorway, horrified, unnoticed at first. And then Alex, with that uncanny ability of his, turned and looked into my eyes. I watched him freeze as he saw my expression and slowly rise from the barrel. Angus glanced up and looked from Alex to me. I turned and walked back through the hall, blindly seeking the door. Outside I took a deep breath and walked rapidly toward the water.

He reached me at the foot of the dock and stood before me, a pistol tucked in his belt. I focused on his chest. Abruptly I turned and walked away from him, and he was before me again.

"Mary Rose," he said hoarsely. "Mary, come with me now, lass."

"No." I hardly recognized my strangled voice. "No."

"Aye, lass, come with me." He took my hand in his. "Come with me." I looked at him then, this stranger.

"To war, Alex? Do you want me to be one of those women who follow soldiers and tend to them?" I snatched my hand away.

"No, lass," he said sadly, shaking his head. "Just come with me a bit on the loch. Please."

"No."

"Aye, Mary. We must talk. Come."

He took my hand again, and this time I did not resist. He rowed us out on the loch while I looked to my left. If I turned to the right I would see the men preparing on the shore, preparing for war, preparing to leave us, and my anger would boil again. So I looked across the still water and I thought how blue the water was today, how green the last of the leaves of the trees on the far side, how gray the mountains above. I listened to the rhythmic sounds of Alex's strokes and I watched the water swirl around the oar as he dipped it in. In the middle of the loch, with a sigh, he stopped rowing and we drifted. I looked at the far shore for a long time. When he still didn't speak, I stole a glance at him. He was watching me, a guarded expression on his face, his eyes as blue as the water behind him. The sun had turned his hair to gold, and the breeze blew little wisps of it into a halo around his head. Without intending to I leaned over and brushed a lock of gold back from his cheek. He caught my wrist as I pulled away. Our eyes met, and his image blurred and shattered as my tears fell. I tried to blink them away. He still held my wrist, but he said nothing, and I glanced at him again. He was looking at my hand, his head bent, and I watched his shoulders rise and fall under the linen. He looked up at me, meeting my eyes, and he released my wrist.

"Mary, can ye forgive me?" He sighed deeply. "I am sorry that I am making ye so angry."

"Don't go. Don't leave us, Alex. I'm so afraid."

"I'll come back, lass."

"You'll intend to."

"I will come back."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Why am I going or why will I come back?" "Both."

He shook his head. "Ah, Mary, I have no magic words to explain it. I can only tell ye that I don't want to go and I must."

"Why? For Malcolm? Are you going for him, Alex?"

He took a deep breath and looked at his feet before lifting his blue, blue eyes to mine. "No, lass, not for Malcolm. I am mindful of ail he has done. I have no illusions left about my brother. I would never make this sacrifice for him." He shook his head. "No, Mary, I am going because I am a Gael and L canna stay behind when my people go to war. Sensible or no', warranted or no', I canna stay behind, safe, and I canna fight for yer King Geordie. When they drew the line of who is to be enemies, I am on this side, and I canna let those on my side fight without me. I canna stay here with ye and hear of them dying. If I go, perhaps I can make a difference. If I stay home I'll only wonder, I'll always wonder."

"And if you don't come home?"

"I'll come home."

I watched the light play in his hair. "How do you know?"

"I know." I looked away, at Kilgannon, feeling his gaze on me. "I'll come back to ye, Mary. And to my sons, This is where I belong, I'll come back."

"I don't understand."

"No, I ken that, lass. What I'm saying is foreign to ye."

"Not just to me, Alex, but to most of the women. What difference does it make who is king? We watch you all preparing as if for the Games, as if for a long hunting trip. Do you not understand what can happen? Does none of you understand?" "We understand. Some don't, of course. They think this is just a great adventure, something to tell their grandchildren on a winter's night, but most of us understand. We have no choice."

"You do have a choice. You are choosing to go." He watched me for a long moment, then looked at the far shore. I studied his profile, his eyelashes glinting in the sun, and I wanted to scream. Why couldn't I think of something to say that would stop him?

He turned to me again. "Aye, lass. Yer right in that. We are choosing. And I have no words left to explain it to ye." He took my hand from where it lay on my skirt. "I can only say that I love ye more than life, Mary, but if I stay here with ye I will die. My body will continue, but part of me will die." He kissed my palm and I watched his bent head. "I canna stay," he whispered.

"And part of me will die if you leave," I whispered back.

"Aye, but ye'll be
born
again when I return whole to ye."

"Alex...." I wanted to rage and strike out, to scream and pull at my hair. Instead, I looked at my husband and I cried. He drew me to him then and held me as I sobbed, patting my back and making soothing sounds, his tears mingling with mine. We sat huddled in that little boat until the sun set.

But it changed nothing.

I could not sleep, and Alex slept hardly at all. He was everywhere, overseeing the preparations in every detail, the preparations for war and the preparations for leaving us behind. He had carefully chosen men to stay with us, to protect us, and to help us survive their absence. Because they were leaving before the harvest, with the cattle still in their summer shieldings and the grain not all yet reaped, some men who knew such things would stay behind at first and help us, but we would all have to work or we would never last the winter. My anger dipped and arched. At some moments I was resigned and calm, and at others I could hardly speak without bitterness. The men avoided me. Most of the women agreed with me, but I kept my own counsel.

I tried to explain it to the boys but failed. Alex took them with him everywhere and I knew he was talking to them, but how could children of six and eight understand what their father meant when he said he was going to war? I understood the words and the ideas, but when I applied them to my life and realized he was leaving because of those ideas, I balked, and if I could not understand, how could they? But they seemed to accept the idea of Alex leaving, and I marveled at their faith that he would return. All I could think of was what could happen, and the vision of my life stretching out before me without him haunted my every step. Matthew came home and brought the news that most of the Highland clans were gathering to join Mar. The men of Kilgannon cheered.

The morning that he cut his hair was one of the worst. I had been in the kitchen seeing to the packing of food for them when I looked up to see Matthew reaching for a knife, Gilbey behind him.

"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised.

"Alex said to cut my hair," Matthew said, "and I thought I could do it faster with one of the kitchen knives. I dinna want to use my dirk. It might dull the edge." He met my eyes uneasily.

"Cut your hair?" I asked stupidly.

"Aye, so that hair doesna get in yer eyes when yer fighting." "When you're fighting."

He nodded. "Aye. Mary, are ye a' right? Ye look verra pale." "Where is Alex, Matthew?"

"In yer rooms." I was out the door before he stopped talking.

Alex stood barefoot in front of my mirror, pulling strands of his hair up and cutting them unevenly. He turned when I entered and looked at me but did not speak then nor when I took the knife from his hand and pushed him down on the chair. We were silent as I cut his hair close to his head. I ignored my tears and how the gold of his hair looked against the red of the rug beneath our feet, trying not to think that the rug was the same shade as blood. When I finished I gathered the long locks from the floor into a bundle and put them in a square of plaid in a chest. I left the room without a word. We never mentioned it. By nightfall every man and boy in Kilgannon had cut his hair, even Ian and Jamie, I kept the hair they'd chopped off and I scolded them as I trimmed what was left, but I never said anything about it to Alex. I put their hair in the same bundle as his, and my tears fell on the wool as I buried it in my clothes chest.

The evenings were the most difficult, for my work was done and his was not. I followed him around at times, but every motion reminded me that he was leaving. The boys were excited by the bustle and preparations and begged to go to war as well. I made it very clear that they would not be leaving. But Gilbey would, and somehow Matthew and Gilbey leaving made me feel even more betrayed. The distinctions between us had never been so underscored. Young as they were, they were men, and men went to war while women stayed home and waited. Gilbey was not sad to leave his tutoring days behind him. Angus had trained him well in the years he had been with us. And Matthew as well. I watched him with new eyes. Full grown now, he had never gotten as wide as his father. Instead, he looked more and more like Alex, with the same grace and ease of movement. I sighed as I thought of his interrupted studies. He had not shown any regret when I'd asked him but had laughed and said that no one would be left to study with.

Alex sought me out one evening as I stood at the top of the keep watching the sunset but seeing only blood in the red of the sky. I had not heard him approach and I gasped when his hand touched my cheek, wiping away the tears. "Don't cry, Mary Rose," he said gently. I shook my head and looked out to sea. He sighed. "We canna part like this."

"Don't go."

He sighed again. "Mary, I have some things I need to tell ye. Will ye talk with me?" I was silent, and he turned me to face him. "Lass," he said, his expression tender. "I'm stubborn as well as ye. Ye ken that. So listen and I'll leave ye alone, or I'll just keep saying it forever until ye respond."

I took a deep breath. "Let me see if I understand this correctly, Alex. If I listen you'll leave, and if I don't you'll stay and keep trying to talk to me? Even if it takes forever? Goodness, Alex, what should I do?"

He looked at me with narrowed eyes and then pulled me to his chest, laughing softly. "Yer a one," he said over my head.

I wrapped my arms around him. "Don't go," I said into his chest. He kissed the top of my head.

"Lass, listen to me. There are things we need to discuss." He leaned back and looked in my face. "Ye must hear them and it must be the now." At last I nodded. "Good. I want ye to go to Ewan in France. Deirdre is on her way there now with her daughters. Angus just heard this morning."

"No."

"Why?"

"This is my home, Alex. I will stay here." "Mary, I would rest easier knowing ye were safe." "Imagine thinking that about someone you love." "Mary—"