When Fate Dictates (22 page)

Shocked I looked blankly at Dùghall. “My
grandmother?” I stammered slightly, more confused than I ever
thought possible. “No, Dùghall, I can’t think... I... mean, I don’t
really know why I didn’t mention what had happened to her. She was
killed, in her bed, by the smoke of the fire.” The tears in my eyes
overflowed onto my cheeks in a raging torrent of grief, pain and
sorrow.

“
Hush, wee one,” comforted Marta, putting her arm
around me and drawing my shaking body to hers. “Seasaidh knew that
she would die yesterday, wee Corran.”

My eyes were wide with shock and blurred by tears, I
was sobbing and questioning. “How could she know and if she knew
why did she stay in the village?”

Dùghall rested his hand lightly on my shoulder and I
felt the strength he was trying to share with me. “My dear child,”
he said in a calm, kind whisper, “your grandmother knew her time
had come and she accepted that fate. Two nights before the raid
Seasaidh came to our home, Marta offered her a wee dram to ward off
the cold. I noticed your grandmother’s hands trembling as I passed
her the dram. I didn’t know for sure what had made the lass so
jumpy but guessed it had something to do with the Campbell man and
his Red Coats.”

Dùghall paused thoughtfully running his hands over
his long silver beard then shook his head as if to clear a memory
before continuing.

“
Seasaidh was suspicious of them; said she had no
trust for the soldiers of an English King. She believed they had
come as a punishment to MacIain for his late swearing of the Oath
to their English King. She tried to warn MacIain’s sons and told
them not to trust the man they called Robert Campbell, she begged
them to hear her and warned them that no good would come to our
village while the soldiers of the English King remained. The
thirteen days they were in the village Seasaidh had remained
unsettled. The night she came to our home and her trembling hands
held her wee dram, we drank as old friends, by the warmth of the
fire. This was the last time Marta and I saw your
grandmother.”

I could see the tears in the old man’s eyes as he
battled against his sorrow to give me the answers I desperately
sought.

“
You see, Corran,” he continued, “Seasaidh came to
warn Marta and me as she had warned the Old Fox’s cubs. She
reminded me of this cave.” A smile crept across his lips, “Old
Duncan and I used to hide in here, many a year before you were
born, in the days when we were a cattle raiding from the Campbell’s
lands in Glen Lyon. A right ol’ pair we were back then, your
grandfather and me.”

My heart tightened at the mention of my grandfather.
He had been dead many years now but I still had the smell of his
pipe in my nose, the feel of his rough, hard worn hands in mine,
and prickle of his gray beard when he kissed me goodnight. He was a
tall man, slim and strong but the sickness had come one winter and
taken him from us forever.

“
The thing was,” continued Dùghall, “when Seasaidh
mentioned that I should take Marta and visit the cave, we
understood her warning. Marta said that we would take you, Corran,
to the cave with us, but Seasaidh objected saying that your destiny
was to be fulfilled by staying in the village that morning and that
you would find us on the mountain when you were ready.”

“
Marta and I respected your grandmother’s wishes
and heeded her warning. We stocked the cave and went home to wait.
When the gunshots came in the early hours of the morning, we knew
what it was and fled.” The old man fell silent. I was staring at
him, repeating in my mind the words he had spoken and wondered how
to make sense of them.

“
Don’t worry yourself, Corran.” said Marta, as if
able to read my thoughts, “You will come to understand it all in
time.”

I smiled my thanks at the old lady, wrapping the
plaid tighter around me. My body was overcome with exhaustion.
Marta was beside me. “Hush, wee one”, she murmured, gently stroking
my hair. I closed my eyes and slept peacefully with the warmth of
the fire at my feet and the love and friendship of my companions by
my side.

“Mamma, mamma.” My eyes sprang open as I
heard his voice and felt the tug of his little hand on my sleeve. I
blinked in the dim light of early morning and shook my head
disoriented. Simon sat asleep, his back resting against the wall of
the attic.

“Duncan needs a pot,” he whispered, still
tugging on my sleeve, his little eyes looking up expectantly at
me.

“Simon,” I whispered, leaning across to touch
my husband’s leg. “Simon, Duncan needs a wee.”

Simon’s eyes opened slowly, his brow creased
in a frown.

“I am afraid he is not on his own, his daddy
needs one too.”

“What should we do? The pot is in the house,”
I said.

“Don’t worry, Corran, I have one here,” he
whispered, reaching into a chest beside him.

“Are they still here?” I asked.

“I don’t know, they went quiet a few hours
ago.”

“Simon, do you ever dream of things which
feel as though they are real?” I asked.

He frowned across at me. “That’s an odd
question. What do you mean?”

“It’s only I had this dream. I was back on
the mountains in the glen. It was after the massacre, and my
friends were there.”

“We all have dreams like that Corran, don’t
worry about it.”

“It felt so real Simon and I just can’t shake
it out of my head. It was like I had been there, with them, on the
mountain.”

“As I said Corran, we all have them, this
morning there are bigger things to worry about,” he said, nodding
at the floor.

“How will we know when they have gone?” I
asked.

“Well if we are lucky they will go in
daylight, then we will see them through the window.”

“And if they don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he said simply.

I reached across to the bucket of water.
“Duncan are you thirsty little man?”

“Momma give Duncan a drink?”

I nodded, “Yes darling, mummy will give you a
drink.”

“I don’t suppose you have any other food on
you?” I said to Simon, as Duncan drank the water from my cupped
hands.

He shook his head. “No, I gave Duncan all I
had yesterday.”

“We will just have to manage till they go
then,” I said, hoping Duncan would not ask for food.

There was a rustle of noise downstairs and we
both lowered our heads to the floor in the hope of hearing the
muffled conversation. Catching the odd word, I looked across at
Simon.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered.

He nodded. “Aye, I think they are going.”

“Bad men going?” Duncan asked.

“Shhh,” I said, “You must whisper Duncan,
remember what mummy told you last night?”

The little boy reached up, putting his mouth
to my ear. “Bad men going?”

“Yes darling. We will be able to go back into
the house soon.”

The kitchen fell silent and the noise of loud
movement resonated from outside the house. Simon crawled carefully
across to the window, and watched as the soldiers left. Eventually,
he stood up and our whispers ceased. Simon pushed the hatch open a
crack and peered through the hole. “I think they have gone,” he
said, letting the hatch swing open. Simon dropped through the hole
and onto the ladder, landing on the kitchen floor with a thud.
“Pass me the boy,” he said sharply.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Just pass me the boy.”

Doing as he had asked, I fed Duncan through
the hole and down to his father. As soon as I put my head through
the hole it was obvious what was wrong with Simon.

“Simon what have they done?” I gasped in
horror.

“Ransacked the damn house, Corran, that’s
what they’ve done.”

“Mess, broken,” said Duncan, looking up at
his father, his eyes wide with confusion.

Dropping onto the floor I knelt beside my
little boy, putting my arms protectively around him. “Don’t worry
Duncan, mummy and daddy will fix the mess.”

Simon clenched his fists with rage and kicked
at a broken chair on the floor. The legs flew across the room and
crashed against the wall.

“Don’t do that Simon, you are scaring
Duncan,” I shouted as Duncan started to cry.

Simon did not answer me but turned and
stormed from the room.

“Come Duncan,” I said, straightening and
taking his hand. “Are you hungry?” He nodded his little red head.
“Well let’s see if there is anything left to eat,” I finished,
turning toward the meat store.

Eventually I was forced to explore the rest
of the house and surveyed the damage with horror. There could be no
justification for the destruction the soldiers had left. As we
moved into Duncan’s room I stared with horror at his broken cot and
slashed mattress. His little face crumpled as he bent to pick up
the wooden horse Simon had carved for him. “Momma, Polly horse
broken,” he said running his fingers over the snapped wooden legs
of the toy.

“I know sweetheart, daddy will fix it for
you,” I soothed.

******

Simon had been away most of the day and I did
not see him until the sun had set. I gathered the men had survived
our visitors, as they had turned out into the fields to see to what
cattle we had left. My day had been mostly spent salvaging what I
could from the ruins of the house. I guessed they had chosen not to
destroy our bed out of self interest, but sadly that was one of the
only pieces of furniture we had left. Finding some clean bedding, I
stripped the alcohol-stained sheet off the mattress and threw it in
the fire. I watched as the white linen smoldered and burned.
Stoking the fire, I dropped the pillow covers onto the flames.

The image and smell of them in our bed, in
our room, in our house, haunted my mind each time I closed my eyes.
I guessed that Simon too had demons to face, as he sat next to me
on the bed, just staring into the darkness. I rested my hand on his
arm. “Come to sleep, darling,” I coaxed gently.

He lowered his head. “In a bit Corran. You go
back to sleep, I will settle down soon.”

I awoke as dusk fell and the wind howled outside,
lashing at the snow-covered rocks. I listened from within the
sanctuary of our cozy hovel in the mountainside. I glanced over at
the little girl, Giorsal; she was asleep; curled in a corner
crevice, with her mother protectively kneeling beside her. Old man
Dùghall and Marta on the opposite side of the enclosure, also
asleep, huddled together for warmth and companionship. Their hands
entwined in a knot of love. It took my mind to my friends Nansaidh
and Daniel and the day they were wed. My heart sunk as I considered
the possible reasons why Daniel was not here with us. I moved,
slowly and cautiously toward Nansaidh and her sleeping child.
Nansaidh raised her head and I felt the pain in her dark eyes.

“
Come, sit with me, Corran, we will be warmer
together.” Her words were softly spoken, her tone gentle but her
voice told of a broken spirit. I nudged up to her, taking her free
hand in mine. I wished desperately that I could tell her that in
the morning all would be alright, that this was just some torturous
nightmare that would all be over by tomorrow. I clutched at her
hand.

“
My friend, I must know where Daniel is?” I was
whispering, trying not to disturb our companions in their sleep.
Nansaidh sighed, slowly and deliberately before answering.

“
He went back to the glen with the chief’s sons to
bury their father, beneath the stones of Saint Munde’s chapel on
Eilean Munde. We were traveling with the MacDonald brothers when we
found their mother, practically naked, confused and battered at the
foot of the mountain pass and she told us what had happened. We
bandaged her fingers where the soldiers had hacked off her rings
with their teeth. Dùghall carried her, wrapped in his plaid up the
passes, but she died soon after her sons and Daniel left. We could
not save her, Corran.”

Nansaidh’s hand was warm and damp in mine. I squeezed
it reassuringly as she struggled to retell the last moments of the
old lady’s life. I felt her relax a little, as she continued, “John
MacDonald is our new Chief MacIain; but God only knows my friend,
he has no clan to lead.”

I could see the horror in her eyes and the pain in
her soul. It tore at my heart and I felt the most horrendous
desperation to erase her pain.

Sighing heavily she continued, her voice thin and
weak.

“
The MacDonald brothers said it was the English
King who had sent the Campbells to slaughter their father. It was
the Campbell soldiers who shot Old MacIain, through the head. Under
the guise of friendship they gained entry to the old man’s house,
telling his servants that they had come to thank the Old Fox for
his hospitality. That they were leaving for Glengarry’s lands. He
believed them and rose from his bed, pulling on his trousers, in
readiness to share a wee dram to toast his guests’ parting. But
they had come for murder under trust, not whisky. Two shots they
fired. One straight through our chief’s body, the other covered his
wife with his brains.”

Rivers of sorrow and grief soaked our cheeks as we
clung to each other for strength and support. We sobbed
uncontrollably from the pain of mourning, desperation and fear.
Through my sobs I felt the anger rising, bubbling in my heart like
a cauldron of molten hatred. Nansaidh leaned toward me, clutching
my hand to her heart. I stared at her, wordlessly, unable to
understand what she could see. My mind was racing, trying to make
sense of the meaning behind the deep knowing in her eyes.

“
Why am I here, what must I do?” My voice shook
with fear of the unknown. I was bitterly afraid of what her answer
would be. She squeezed my hand firmly and I knew it was for the
courage to do what she was about to tell me.