Loyal to the Laird at Christmas

by Fiona MacEwen

  “His memory will live on in our hearts,” Isla said. “I wear this sprig of white heather as a reminder that he is still amongst us,” and she pointed at her broach, where the sprig stood out in contrast against the black of her shawl.

  “And it shall be a reminder to me too,” Blayne replied, and he thanked them for their introductions, before returning to his place.

  Isla and Una left the Great Hall together arm in arm and when they were safely out of earshot Isla turned to Una and shook her head.

  “The poor lad has nay idea what is to come. Those nobles will have him in the palm of their hands. Ye can see that Hamish is hungry for power,” Isla said, and Una nodded.

  “Aye, he dinna ken what is to come, I fear,” she said, shaking her head, “but there is nothin’ ye nor I can dae about that, he shall have to learn the hard way, or go back to the Lowlands.”

  Isla agreed, but she could not help but feel a little sorry for Blayne. He seemed nice and had a gentleness about him which was endearing. But such sentiments are meaningless when faced with power hungry nobles and men intent upon furthering their own means. Isla knew that Blayne had quite a task upon his hands, if he was to assert his power over the clan. As she walked home that evening with her mother and father, she wondered how long he would last and whether there would soon be a new Laird Mackintosh in his place.

  Chapter 4

  The Laird’s Horse

  Isla’s fears were realized sooner than she had feared, for by the next day it was rumored that the Laird had refused to go out to hunt, preferring instead to hide himself away in the castle library.

  She had made her usual walk to see Una, and she found her friend in the Great Hall with one of the servant girls, spinning wool. She settled herself down to help, just as the doors flew open and Hamish Mackintosh entered the room. The two women exchanged worried glances as he strode over to them, a look of anger upon his face.

  “Whatever is wrong, Hamish?” Una said, pausing from her spinning.

  “Tis’ the Laird that is wrong, nae I, lass. He refuses to go out to hunt, despite bein’ given yer son’s best horse to ride out on. I cannae understand it, where is his spirit for the pursuits which are his duty and supposedly his joy?” Hamish said, shaking his head.

  “Nae every lad likes to hunt, Hamish. Is he still in the library?” Una said, suppressing a slight smile, as Hamish paced up and down before the fire.

  “Aye, and he has said he does nae want to be disturbed until supper time. Yer son was always first out on the hunt and last home for supper,” Hamish replied, shaking his head.

  “But Blayne is nae James, Hamish and ye cannae expect him to just take to our ways like that. The lad is used to life in the south, things are different there,” Una replied.

  “Well, if he is to be Laird then he must learn our ways or return south,” Hamish said. “I kent it was a bad idea the moment I met him. He was ditherin’ and made nay commitment to the cause, he should go back south if he is only goin’ to sit in the library and read his books.”

  Isla felt sorry for Blayne. It was not his fault if he did not like to hunt or partake in pursuits normally undertaken by the Laird. James had been a keen sportsman, but she could not remember the last time he had set foot in the library. Some men were different though and the thought of Blayne sat alone amidst the castle’s books intrigued her.

  “I could speak with him,” she said, causing Hamish to turn and look at her with a puzzled expression.

  “Ye? Well what are ye goin’ to say to him, lass? I wouldnae have thought ye wished anythin’ to dae with him,” Hamish replied.

  “I think tis’ Isla who is the civil one here, Hamish,” Una said, and she smiled at Isla who blushed.

  “I … I just thought perhaps I could … help him a little, he might take more kindly to gentle persuasion than to yer brash ways, Hamish,” Isla said, causing the clansman to smile.

  “Aye, lass, ye can try,” he said, and Isla got up and nodded to Una who smiled.

  “If anyone can show the Laird how to be a Laird tis’ one who knew the previous one the best,” she said.

  Isla made her way through the corridors of the castle towards the library, which was at the top of several flights of stairs and looked out over the glen to the east. It was a place she had seldom visited, and she paused outside the door considering what it was she was about to do. It had seemed instinctive on her part to try to help Blayne Gordon.

  Any animosity she had felt towards him was gone, replaced by a feeling of pity. It must be terrible to feel so out of place and if the feast had shown her anything of him it was that he most certainly was. The Highlands were no place for a man who did not know how to be a man and if the Laird thought he could hide himself away, then he was very much mistaken.

  She looked down at the little sprig of heather on her tunic and imagined James urging her on to help the man who had now come to be Laird. He would have done just the same for he was a good and kind man, always willing to help others in their need. She felt proud to be following in his footsteps and without knocking she pushed open the library door.

  The shelves were lined with weighty tomes, stretching far up to the ceiling. The floor too was piled high, creating a sense of claustrophobia, so close were the books piled upon one another. Through the piles she could see Blayne Gordon with his back to her, sat at a desk at the far end near the window. He was wrapped in a cloak, for there was a draught blowing from somewhere and no fire in the grate. As she entered, he looked round, a furtive look upon his face, like a deer caught by its hunters. Quickly he closed whatever book he had been reading and fixed her with a questioning look.

  “Can I help ye, lass?” he said, as she picked her way through the books.

  “Nay, but I may be able to help ye,” she replied, coming to stand in front of him and peering at the piles of books surrounding him.

  “I am busy at my work,” he replied, setting aside the book and taking up a new one.

  “A history of the Mackintosh Clan,” she read, picking up one of the books and turning it over. “Are ye trying to learn somethin’ of our way?”

  “Aye, though it seems our history is just one long bloody conflict,” he replied, shaking his head and sighing.

  “They are eager for ye to join the hunt upon the heathers. Why have ye secreted yerself away in here when there are stags to catch and men to ride out with?” she asked.

  “I am the Laird, am I nae? If I choose to hide myself away in such a manner, then I shall dae so,” he said, picking up another book and opening it to read.

  “And if ye dae so then ye shall nae last long as Laird, of that I can assure ye. Hamish was already breathin’ murder against ye. He says ye are just a southern gentleman with nay understandin’ of our ways,” she said, and he looked up at her again with a sad look in his eyes.

  “I never wanted to come here. I was happy at home in the Lowlands. I have a beautiful manor house there and good folks around me but now I find myself in this draughty old castle amongst folks who say and think as Hamish has said and thought. I am a disappointment to ye all and I intend to return south as soon as possible,” he said, shaking his head.

  “So, ye would just abandon us all, would ye? And what then? The likes of Hamish would seek to take control, or someone worse. There would be fightin’ and this proud clan would be reduced to nothin’ and at the mercy of its enemies. Ye would dishonor James and his father if ye were to abandon us now,” she said.

  Isla had not meant to mention James, his name had just slipped out. It caused a twinge of sadness to run through her, for her mind was filled with mixed emotions. She could not be angry at Blayne for taking his place, it was not his fault that he was the descendant and rightful heir. But she could be angry if he refused the responsibility which was his and left them at the mercy of others.

  “I am sorry about yer betrothed, lass, I truly am,” he replied, “and I wish only to see this clan right. But I am nae the man for it, I cannae e
ven ride a horse. That is why I did nae wish to ride out with the hunt today. I would have looked a fool before them, and nay man wishes to look a fool before others.”

  Isla nodded and thought for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. Una had been right to say that she knew James better than anyone else, save except her of course. She had been at his side so much and had seen him about his work each day, if anyone knew about being a Laird it was her.

  “Then I shall teach ye nae to be a fool, Blayne Gordon,” she replied, smiling at him.

  He looked puzzled, and closed his book, fixing her with a quizzical stare.

  “What dae ye mean, lass?” he said.

  “Well, since James died, I have found it difficult to find any kind of purpose. I had expected to be the wife of the Laird, to bear him children and fulfill my duties in that manner but since he has been gone, I have had nothin’ to fill my days. I come here to the castle and sit with Una, I help her a little, but that is nay life. But if James were here, I ken he would want me to be useful and if I can be useful in helpin’ ye then I would wish to dae so,” she said, and he smiled at her.

  “Even ridin’ a horse?” he said.

  “Especially in ridin’ a horse,” she replied, and she held out her hand to him and he took it. “Come now, we can go to the stables immediately. Tis’ easy enough, ye shall see.”

  Isla led Blayne from the library and out into the stable yard. Several of the clansmen were stood around and they eyed the new Laird with suspicion, for word had clearly gone around as to his reluctance to hunt. But Isla ignored them, and she brought out the horse that had once belonged to James, the same that had thrown him on the mountain side on the fateful day just a few months before.

  “Is this …?” Blayne said, looking the horse up and down with some distrust.

  “Aye, tis’ James’s horse but that makes it yers now and I am nae goin’ to stand in the way of its rightful owner ridin’ it,” she replied, handing him the reins.

  “But Isla, I cannae ride, and if yer dear James was thrown from the horse’s back then what chance dae I have?” he said, as the horse whinnied and stomped its hoof.

  “The horse was scared on the crag, it was nae his fault. There was a thunderstorm that day, it scared him. Ye cannae expect a horse to always behave like a man and that day sadly …” she said, her words trailing off.

  “Well, if ye are sure,” he replied.

  “Besides, ye are nae goin’ up onto the crag until ye can sit on the beast and make it trot. Come now, lead him through the courtyard and out to the front of the castle,” she said, pointing towards the gate.

  The horse was reluctant to follow and Blayne had to do much coaxing before it followed him. Isla could not help smiling and she led her own horse, gifted her by James on the day of their engagement, after him.

  “That’s right, see he’s trustin’ ye now, he’ll let ye get on his back,” Isla said as the two of them emerged from the castle gate.

  The horse was trotting behind Blayne and he turned and patted its mane, jumping a little as the animal stomped its hoof.

  “He is a lively thing, and that’s certain,” Blayne said, holding the horse’s head steady.

  “Aye, and ye must be firm with him. Make him dae what ye wish him to dae,” she replied, mounting her own horse and watching as Blayne came cautiously to the horse’s side.

  “Like this?” he said, and he tried unsuccessfully to pull himself up onto the horse’s back, slipping off the other side and landing in a heap on the ground.

  Isla could not control her laughter and Blayne grinned sheepishly at her, as he tried again to get onto the horse’s back.

  “That’s better,” she said, “keep a hold of the reins and sit nice and upright, otherwise he’ll buck ye.”

  But the horse had already started trotting off across the paddock, seemingly quite oblivious to the fact that Blayne was sat on his back.

  “Isla, where are we going?” Blayne called back as she trotted after him.

  “It looks like he’s going to the home of my parents,” she replied, as the animal made its way to the track leading towards her father’s croft.

  The two trotted along together and Blayne eventually seemed to gain some control over the animal, though it was clear that he was not yet master.

  “Am I getting the hang of this?” he asked, turning to her.

  “Aye, though how ye ever sat aback of Hamish’s horse all the way from the Lowlands is quite beyond me,” she replied, as they arrived in front of her parent’s croft.

  “I fell off. A lot,” he replied, as they dismounted. “Have ye lived here many years?”

  “I was born here, my parents and grandparents have farmed this land for generations,” she said, leading him to the door. “Mother, I have a visitor for ye.”

  Her mother was making bread, bent low over the smoky fire in the croft’s kitchen and she turned in surprise to see Isla and the Laird before her.

  “Oh, Isla, if I had known ye were bringin’ the Laird here then I would have prepared more than these little scones,” she said, curtseying to Blayne who waved his hand.

  “There is nay trouble, good woman. Yer daughter has been teachin’ me to ride a horse. It seems that is a requirement in these parts, at least for the Laird,” he said, taking the seat which Isla offered him.

  “Tis’ unheard of for the Laird nae to ride,” Isla said, having nothing of her mother’s obeisance for the man sat before them.

  “And what else is expected of me?” Blayne said, turning to her and smiling.

  “Isla, show some respect, ye cannae speak to the Laird in that way,” her mother hissed, apologizing to Blayne, who once again waved his hand in dismissal.

  “She can speak to me as she pleases, I am nae used to anythin’ else, all this is very new to me, ye see,” he replied, taking the drink she offered him, some warm milk from the pan.

  “Ye must ride, ye must fight, ye must hunt, ye must preside at the feasts and show yer authority over others. Ye must be a leader of men and able to stand up to the likes of Hamish without fear,” she replied, smiling at him as his face fell.

  “I am nay fighter and I am certainly nay great leader of men. Back home I have just a few crofts and a handful of servants., all good folks who dae my biddin’ without question. There is never any suggestion of fightin’ or war mongerin’ and if there were it would be quickly crushed,” he said, shaking his head and taking a sip of milk.

  “We are nae in the Lowlands now, Laird,” her mother said, “and ye will see that the ways of Highlands are quite different.”

  “My mother is right, ye must step up to yer duties, otherwise these men will walk all over ye and ye will find yerself a Laird only in name,” she said.

  Blayne sighed and looked forlorn. It was clearly not what he had hoped to hear and as Isla continued her instruction, his face became ever more forlorn.

  “I cannae dae all that, I am nae Laird,” he said, sighing. “I am just a fraud.”

  “Ye can be Laird, but ye have to want it,” she replied, coming to sit next to him and placing her hand upon his. “I did nae want ye to come here, I’ll be truth full about that,” and he looked up at her with a surprised expression, “but now ye are here, I know I would rather ye were Laird than any other man and I’ve told ye, I’ll help ye. But ye must want help.”

  Blayne paused for a moment, looking into her eyes and then nodded.

  “Ye promise, ye are nae goin’ to make a fool out of me, are ye?” he said, but she just smiled and shook her head.

  “Based upon yer horse ridin’ skills I would say ye are already makin’ a fool out of yerself, ye dinna need me to help ye,” she said. “Come now, we had best get back to the castle before ye are missed. It wouldnae dae for the Laird to be spendin’ too much time with an unmarried lass now, would it?”

  The ride home was marginally more successful and Blayne managed not only to control the horse but also to canter for some distance, though admittedly h
e nearly fell twice as he went. But Isla could see potential in him, and she knew that he was at least trying his best. As they arrived at the castle, it began to snow, clouds whirling down from the mountains above and bringing with them a chilling wind.

  “Tis’ goin’ to be a harsh winter,” she said, looking down the track into the forest.

  Along it approached a small retinue of soldiers, led by Hamish Mackintosh, and they paused in front of Isla and the Laird as Hamish dismounted.

  “Hail Laird, I see ye have found yer horse legs now,” he said, and the others laughed.

  “Aye, I shall find them well enough, I am sure. Isla here has been helpin’ me,” Blayne said.

  “I see, well we are honored by the presence of this young man here,” he said, and he turned to a lad who could not have been more than twenty years old, and was sat wrapped in a cloak and a coat of chain mail on a horse behind Hamish’s.

  He nodded to the Laird and introduced himself as Robert Craig, a friend of Hamish’s from the west.

  “And how long will ye be stayin’ with us?” Blayne asked the lad who smirked and glanced at Isla, who turned away from him in disdain.

  For she had no time for the friends of Hamish Mackintosh.

  “Oh, for the Christmas season, I have heard much about the feast on Christmas Eve,” he replied, smiling.

  “Feast? What feast is that?” Blayne said, looking at Isla with a puzzled expression.

  “Has she nae told ye? The Laird always hosts a grand feast on Christmas Eve and all the clan gather to celebrate the season. Tis’ only a week away now, so I hope ye are prepared, Laird,” Hamish said, smiling and signaling to the others as they rode on, and Robert Craig cast a final look back towards Blayne and Isla, a smirk across his face.

  “Odious man,” Blayne said. “I like Hamish less with each passing day and as for the company he keeps …”

  “Ignore Hamish, he has always had his eye upon the Lairdship, and he was a thorn in the side of James too,” Isla replied, watching, as Hamish and the others made their way into the castle.