Highland Portrait (18 page)

“It’s big, Robbie.  All of Texas is probably two and a half or three times as large as all of England, Ireland, Wales and Scotland put together.  It’s a very big place.”  Robbie seemed very thoughtful as he closed the barn door and moved the lantern toward the stall farthest from the door where he had spread his plaid.  Stella slipped the granola bar into the pocket of the dress and noted the light leaving her and going to the back of the barn.  She got up and followed him to the last stall. 

The noise of livestock settling down for the night brought with it a tenderness to her heart.  The horses had all been fed and were quiet, as were the several goats.  Thankfully the farmer did not have pigs in the barn, and the chickens were roosting in rafters far enough away they would not be dropping surprises on them all night.  As with all barns, it was a warm place, the combination of animals and composting manure and hay delivering enough heat to make the slight chill in the air to be almost unnoticeable. 

At once she became aware that she was in a barn alone with this man.  He had laid only the one plaid down, which is all he had, but he had made no other apparent provisions for a separate sleeping place for himself.  The other stalls were filled with the horses and a cow and any other spot in the barn was target area for chickens.  She was tired and the soft plaid covered hay looked inviting.  She stared at the plaid unsure of what her next move was to be.

Robbie stood watching her unsure of himself, still filled with the wonder and awe of what he had learned of her and her land tonight. Her book of images was a treasure, but so too was she.  He did not want to scare her or cause her discomfort, but he wanted her.  His desire for her was beyond any he had ever felt for any women, possession or intellectual objective.  His wanting could wait, though, if it meant tying her to him with emotional bonds rather than demands.  He knew now that she responded to humor, intelligence and grace.  He would not allow lust to cause him to lose her and she had already warned him that she, not he, was in control.

For the first time in her life Stella saw that men were not the enemy.  For the first time in his life Robbie saw that women were as he – strong and smart.  There is a time when culture and tradition must be cast aside and the true nature of male and female must be taken up and this was that moment. 

Her breathing was labored and shallow, she did not know where to turn, she was at an emotional impasse.  Her instincts and her knowledge and experience told her that this man would use her and then mistreat her, take her agency to chose and make demands that would embitter her. 

He dealt with the difficult decision of commanding and appropriating.   But each, in their heart knew that there was something beyond their experience, beyond their knowing, beyond what history and culture had taught, that the heavens, in this moment were opening up the true nature of the union of the male and the female.   Stella felt shy and awkward.  Robbie was confused and out of his element. 

Stella reached into her pocket and offered the granola bar to him.  Robbie slowly reached to take it from her, an offering of understanding, of giving, of union.  He took it and in doing so touched her hand.  Warmth spread from her hand and traveled up his arm to his heart.  This small piece of ambrosia, the food of the gods, the sustenance of Venus, was a gift and he would treasure it because it embodied all that she was.  Sweet and nourishing and exotic.  It was filled with delight and with flavors unknown, but pleasing to him.  The flavors of union.  And in that moment of touching, the night so absolute in its darkness, was lit with joy and a shy recognition that something beyond the mere attraction of bodies was laid open to them.

Robbie took the bar and snapped it in two.

“We will share, my Faerie Queen.” Softly spoken his words were not about granola bars, but about their bound, a shared venture, an understanding of the importance of mutual consent.

He handed her the half and she took it from him looking at it as communion, and smiled indulgently with no further comments, explanations or apologies – just a smile.  As if in that simple smile she was humbling acknowledging her power to answer all unanswerable questions.  Her calm reassured him, encouraged him.  In spite of her strange words and actions he felt comfortable with her.  She challenged his beliefs, but she didn’t challenge his dedication to principle.  Passionate.  Yes, she was passionate, maybe obsessed, but so was he.  He thought about his own passions and found them equal to hers. 

He awkwardly reached out his hand.  “Lass, again I will sleep at yer feet.  Fear me not.”

She nodded, saying nothing, feeling much more than she was willing to acknowledge.  She stepped onto the plaid and lay down hoping that sleep would take her quickly, but unsure if she wanted to be released from the thoughts and images of the day

Robbie covered her, hesitating, wanting to kiss her goodnight – a simple kiss, perhaps on the cheek, the forehead – but he held back, his desire burning him, leaving him with a pain unmatched by any battlefield blow. He blew out the candle and Ferghus climbed in beside Stella and she wrapped her arms around him.  Robbie lingered a moment longer to watch them both get comfortable and he lay at her feet, finding comfort in laying his hand on her ankles.  The trio drifted off into sleep, Stella dreaming of toilet paper and Robbie adrift in dreams of five thousand cows.

Chapter Nine

“Tell me of yer family, Stella.” Robbie had slowed their pace somewhat, for they were in very rocky terrain. Having gotten up early once again, they had left the croft as daylight was breaking over the horizon and moved silently northward.  They had shared the crofter’s bread and had spent the first part of the morning moving swiftly into the mountains.

Robbie slowed his horse to be even with Stella

“Well, my mother died when I was only three years old so I don’t remember her much,” said Stella, “but sometimes, I get a vague notion that she is watching me and directing me.  I miss her, even though I don’t remember her.  When I was about eighteen, I recall I was still in school, I painted a picture of her and I.  In the painting I’m just a child, three or so, and we’re walking through a meadow of white flowers, like the white heather I picked for my hat, and she is taking me somewhere.  I love that painting.  I still have it.  Sometimes I look at it and it all seems so real to me, so clear.  It makes me cry.”

Robbie looked at Stella in amazement. “You are over eighteen, Stella?”

“I’m twenty three.  How old did you think I was?”

“I had guessed yer age to be less than eighteen.”

“Really?  Well, that’s very flattering, but I’m a robust twenty three.  How old are you?”

“I am thirty and one.”

“Wow, thirty one.”  Stella thought for a moment that the 17
th
century was hard on a body.  She would have thought that Robbie was closer to forty one.  He already had age lines around his mouth and eyes.  Or maybe it was the beard that made him look older, which did not mitigate the attraction she was feeling for him, but it gave her pause to think his life expectancy would not be very long.  She knew that during this period that he would be lucky to live to see fifty. Bad diet, poor sanitary conditions and disease took an early toll of these people, not to mention wars.  With him being a warrior his chances of long life were slim and none.  He was at this moment in the bloom of his life.

“And yer da?” Robbie probed.

“Ah, well now there is a strange and unusual man.  My ‘da’, or Daddy, as we say in Texas, is a professor at the university.  He has written many books about history and won lots of awards for being smart and clever and he’s been an excellent father to me.  He raised me on his own after my mother died and has given me privileges and opportunities that most young people don’t get.”

“What were those privileges?”  Intellectual curiosity was not always encouraged in this culture, but Robbie had a healthy dose of it.  But she wasn’t certain she felt comfortable sharing with Robbie that the most outstanding privilege was that her father` taught her a great deal about the time in which he was living.  He had instructed her in the language of the late Renaissance, how to decipher the writing of the period, a history of the culture and politics, all at a depth of knowledge that many history students never achieved. She had even helped him with reading and deciphering old documents for his research.  But with all that he had not prodded her to follow him into the formal study of Renaissance history.  He knew her heart was in her art and he encouraged that, even having her paint canvases for him of some of the great buildings and events of the time, using them as plates for his books.  Stella truly had the best of both worlds from her father.

“Well, I was an art student at the university, but he encouraged me to learn history and science, too.  So I did.”

“You went to university?  A woman?” Robbie was just as surprised to hear of her education as she had been to hear of his.

“Yes, of course,” she said giving him a narrow eyed look that he took as a warning.

“And you know science, Stella?” Robbie looked doubtfully at her.  Surely she could not be a scientist, too.  Even Tegis had its limits.  Women were not allowed to be taught science, it was unnatural.

“I have forgotten more science then you will ever know in your lifetime, Robbie. Ask me a question.” Stella turned her pursed-lip, I’m-about-to-kick-your-intellectual-ass look on Robbie.

Robbie feeling that his education was not to be considered lightly and always prodded when challenged, thought for a moment.  “How big is the world?” he asked, clearing thinking that he had stumped her now.

“At its circumference the earth is about 25,000 miles.  The crust of the earth, the top layer of dirt, basalt, sand and so forth, is anywhere from three to six miles deep. Seventy percent of the surface is water, with ninety six percent of that water being ocean.  Next question.” 

The delight and teasing went out of Robbie’s eyes and was replaced by a look of profound astonishment.  She was immediately sorry for being a smart ass. She backed off.

“But of course, I could be way off on that,” she knew that this was a situation that could get out of hand.  This was information that she wasn’t sure she could explain in detail and she knew that Robbie had a healthy curiosity.

“Stella, how do you know these things?”  Robbie was looking straight ahead now, brow furrowed, lost in his thoughts not just about this new information, but the fact that this information was such that it was trifling enough for a woman to know and understand.

She sighed and tried to work her way out of the hole she was digging for herself.                “Robbie, in Texas you will find that there is no intellectual limitation.  The search for answers is not inhibited by fear of the very knowledge one seeks.  There is no superstition, only a desire for information.  We study, we search, we learn, we test.  We do not condemn or hide knowledge because some priest or church does not like it.  If you don’t like the information then you are free to go do your own searching and testing.” 

“There are great scholars in Tegis” Robbie’s statement was one of profound respect and admiration.

“Yes, Robbie.  Great scholars.”

“Why do we not know of them here?” Robbie was sure that the great European universities would have invited these Texas scholars to teach had they known about them.

Stella was solemn for a moment, not knowing how to answer this question.  The truth could brand her as a witch or a devil but a lie seemed harder to fashion.

“I have no answer for that, Robbie,” she said quietly and turned her attention to a golden eagle that was swooping to a kill not too far in the distance.

Robbie continued on in silence, deep in thought and wonder at what he had just heard.  It made her nervous that he did not respond or ask more questions.  Would he brand her a heretic because of her knowledge? 

“Tegis is a wondrous place,” murmured Robbie.  Stella exhaled and smiled, watching the eagle flying toward its eyrie, a small prey in its talons.

For the next four miles Robbie was lost in thought about Texas and how it compared to his homeland.  The more he learned of the place the more he realized that keeping Stella with him was going to present some difficulties.  Why would anyone live in Scotland when they could live in Texas?  If Robbie was not the tanist then he would take Stella back to Texas and perhaps have five thousand cows himself, but he was committed and his responsibility to his clan was more important than any desire he might have for intellectual freedom, or pencils, or cows.

He watched her riding beside him and was charmed at her natural curiosity about everything.  On several occasions she stopped, took out her sketchbook and did a quick drawing of a landscape or a rock formation.  She sketched Ferghus chasing small animals and Arwen and Grey nuzzling.  She was not just aware of her surroundings, she was a vital part of them, as if she had been divinely appointed to record all that she found beautiful and of interest so that she might report back to the Celestial Committee that sent her here.

“Stella,” Robbie looked at her squinting at the horizon trying to identify the colors of the mountains and lochs she saw.  She looked at him with pleasure at the sound of her name.

“Yes?”

“How long ha’e ye been a widow?”

Stella’s mouth dropped open and her look of total surprise told him that he had guessed she was no maid.