Summer of Love (31 page)

    
Andrew beamed happily at his lovely bride, standing in front of the
minister, with Mr. Morgan to Andrew’s right and his wife to Helen’s left.
The two old women rose too. After a short preamble, announcing the
intention of Andrew Matthew Campbell to join in holy matrimony with
Helen Mary Campbell, the minister raised his voice and asked into the empty
church: "If any Christian has reasons for this marriage not to be made, ye
shall speak now or remain silent forever more."

    
Suddenly, the ominous sound of running footsteps reverberated loudly
through the high Gothic vaults of the church’s main nave, and Dougal MacGregor’s booming voice echoed: "I do!"

    
Startled, Andrew and Helen shot around. Her father, Robert, Robin, her
oldest brother, and a fourth man that looked familiar, although Andrew failed
to place him right then, came trotting down the aisle, their hands on their
pistols stuck in their belts.

    
For an instant, the seven people in the chapel stood like frozen statues.
Then Andrew reacted. He grabbed Helen’s hand, rushed into the minister’s
sanctuary, locked the door from inside, and wedged a chair tightly under the
door handle. Helen was white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf.

    
"What are we going to do?" she moaned.

    
Andrew gave no answer. He studied the windows which were about six
feet up. Then he moved the minister’s desk under one of it, climbed on top,
opened it, and peered out. It looked onto a narrow alley. The earthen
pavement was about ten feet down. He swung himself onto the wide window
ledge and straddled it. Bending down, he held out one hand for Helen. For
a moment she looked at him without comprehension.

    
"Quick, Helen," he urged in a low voice.

    
By then somebody was trying to open the door. Finding it locked, he
erupted into angry shouts, immediately joined by several others. They began
to bang loudly on the door, and Dougal’s demanding voice ordered Helen to
open it. The minister’s weak protests got drowned out. This triggered her
into action. She climbed onto the desk, grasped Andrew’s hand and pulled
herself up to the window ledge. When she saw the high drop, she almost
backed down again. Only his firm grip kept her up.

    
"Hold on, Helen. I’ll go ahead."

    
He lowered himself, until he only hung on the window ledge by his hands,
and let go, catching the fall with slightly bent knees. But even so he winced
as a sharp pain shot through his thigh. Then he stood under the window: "Sit
on the ledge and then push yourself off. I’ll catch you."

    
She moved both legs over the ledge and looked down. Big, frightened
eyes met his.

    
"No, I can’t," she exclaimed.

    
"Jump, Helen. I will catch you. I promise."

    
The banging at the door got more insistent and the threats louder. She
closed her eyes and jumped. He caught her, staggered backward, lost his
balance, and slowly fell on his back, Helen on top of him.

    
"Can you run?" he asked, getting up quickly.

    
She nodded. He again took her hand, and they ran down the alley, Andrew
limping, while Helen raised her skirts. Before entering the square in front of
the church, he quickly checked if any of their pursuers were already coming
out. Its door was still fully shut. So they ran past it and within a few seconds
disappeared in the narrow streets, leading to the inn. A few minutes later,
without taking time to change into riding gear, they galloped out of town on
the road to Falkirk.

    
They kept to the road for about two miles, rapidly putting distance
between them and the town. At a small forest near Bannock Burn, Andrew
checked whether any other travelers were in sight. The road was empty in
both directions. He entered the trees and headed straight into the eastern
spurs of the Touch Hills south of the River Forth. They carefully steered
away from any settlements, even if it meant making a detour. No word had
been exchanged between them since they had left the inn. After about an
hour, he slowed down and let Helen ride beside him.

    
"That was close," he said. "Are you all right?"

    
"Yes, but I think I’ve never been so frightened as when I jumped from that
window."

    
"I know, Helen. You closed your eyes… I love you for your trust in me."

    
She smiled wearily. "Do you think we lost them?"

    
"Yes, at least temporarily. There were few people on the road and it will
take them a while before they discover that we left it. That gives us two or
three hours head start, and they’ll have trouble deciding which way we went.
Hopefully, they’ll go on to Edinburgh, expecting to catch us there."

    
They rode again in silence.

    
"I was all set on getting married," she said suddenly, her tone of voice
reflecting her resigned expression. "Maybe it’s not to be… I just pray that
father didn’t harm Mr. Morgan and his wife. They were both so kind to us,
especially Mrs. Morgan. I think she liked us. But with father, you can never
tell what he might do when he’s in a rage."

    
"Surely, he would restrain himself in church!" After a short pause he
added: "Helen, we will find another minister. I’ll not give up, if you’re still
willing."

    
She did not answer, just looked at him thoughtfully, and then asked:
"Where are we going now?"

    
"I thought we would go to Glasgow, rather than stay on the road to
Edinburgh where your father is bound to catch up with us since they can ride
so much harder than we."

    
"But we’re not on a road."

    
"Oh, I thought that initially we simply ride through the hills, keeping off
any roads and away from people as much as possible. We still have enough
food left from Mr. Nichols pouch. If they find us in these hills, it would be
by mere coincidence—"

    
"I pray they don’t."

    
"I must say, I’m surprised how quickly they were on our trail and caught
up with us. They must have ridden through the whole night. But sooner or
later they’ll have to let their horses rest also."

    
"When my father sets his mind on something, he’s very stubborn, and
Robert must be seething for revenge." She paused, and then continued more
softly: "His father and mother got killed in that Argyle ambush. That’s when
he came to our clachan… He frightens me. He has such a short temper. I
don’t know why I ever agreed to marry him. I’m so glad, Andrew, that you
never lose your temper."

    
He smiled and then asked: "Didn’t you love him at all?"

    
"No," she shrugged. "I was fond of him. When he’s in a good mood, he
is a likable fellow and he can be quite funny. Not as serious as you. Many
lasses were vying for him."

    
"Would you like me to be funnier?"

    
"No, Andrew. You misunderstand. I love you the way you are. Serious.
Considerate," she chuckled when she said the last word, "as Mrs. Morgan
said… And I can talk with you. Robert and I never talked much. Mind you,
he’s not the only young man like this. Talking for him means that the other
person listens to what he has to say. And that’s not much. I doubt he ever
read a book. I don’t even know if he can read."

    
"So what did he then talk about?"

    
"Oh, he would mainly brag about how he and his friends got drunk, or
how he beat that other fellow in a fight, or played a bad trick on him."

    
"You never talked about your future together?"

    
"No, I don’t think he ever gave it any thought except that he would finally
be able to ravish me. That was foremost on his mind… In fact, our last fight
was because I refused to go for a walk with him, so that he could fondle me."

    
"But I also like kissing and fondling you."

    
"Yes, I know, but with you it’s different."

    
"Maybe you see it differently, because you love me."

    
"Maybe. But it is different… With you I never feel used, and when I tell
you to stop, you do so immediately. He would never take a ‘no’ for an
answer. It was a constant struggle to keep him off me."

    
Andrew gave her a mischievous smile. "I can’t remember you ever telling
me to stop."

    
"I did."

    
"When?"

    
"You’re teasing me!"

    
"Yes, I am," he replied, winking at her. "You remember how we chased
each other in the heath that summer?"

    
"Yes. And you remember the sumptuous feasts we had on the rock?" she
said, her eyes becoming unfocussed, as if she were looking inside herself.

    
"—and how you let yourself be caught by me?"

    
"— and the long talks we had about books."

    
"— and how we lay in the grass?"

    
"— and how you told me about your work?"

    
"— and we kissed,"

    
"— and never wanted to stop."

    
"Yes, I remember our summer." His face had become serious again. "It
sustained me for almost four years."

    
"I felt like the world had come to an end when mother told me you were
my half-brother."

    
"So did I, and then I cursed her… I still feel ashamed about it. She did
what she thought she must do."

    
"You’re kinder to her than she deserves. She betrayed me. She sent me
into the shielings, knowing that I would try to find you, and then had Robert
follow me… I can’t forgive her for this."

    
They rode in silence for a while. Andrew picked up their conversation
again: "Yet, I still admire her. Don’t judge her too harshly, Helen. She didn’t
have an easy life. All she wanted was to protect her family. And I’m not her
family, even if she thinks that she gave birth to me."

    
"Oh Andrew! How can you be so forgiving?"

    
"She was used by my father, like my own mother when she was sent there
to learn to become a lady, and the little I know of my father’s family tells me
that they didn’t make it easy for her once she was pregnant."

    
"No, they didn’t. She told me that she wasn’t given a choice; that shortly
after giving birth, she was sent back to her parents, without her child."

    
"That’s what aunt Lorna said."

    
"Who is she? You have an aunt?"

    
"No, I just called her that when I was a boy. She used to look after me.
She is the one who told me who my mother was."

    
"Did you have any other siblings?"

    
"Not that I know of. I think after getting two girls pregnant, Lord
Archibald was sent to England for several years. I remember seeing him for
the first time when I was about five years old… Helen, please marry me! We
will find another minister."

    
"Let’s not rush it."

    
He searched her eyes and simply said: "I love you."

 * * *

By late afternoon they got to the upper reaches of Endrick Waters, a river
emptying into the southern shores of Loch Lomond. Hidden in a small
coppice along the river, they rested and ate the remaining sausage, a slice of
cheese, and bread. The clear stream meandering through bushes and stunted
trees invited them to bathe. They both felt rather dirty and sweaty. Not just
the healthy sweat of exertion, but the bitter, pungent sweat of fright and
anxiety. They quickly shed their clothes and dipped into a dark pool of clear
water, soaping themselves, their hair, and each other with Andrew’s soap.