The Castle Courtyard on a Snowy Christmas Eve

by Fiona MacEwen

  “So ye are pleased to see me, unlike yer father?” Duncan replied.

  “I am nothin’ like my father,” Alistair replied, his face suddenly becoming serious. “Ye had kent that since we were bairns, havenae ye?”

  Duncan nodded. Alistair was certainly right about that. His uncle came from a different breed, as though he were not a Campbell at all. Whilst Duncan’s father had been a kind and benevolent man, interested firstly in peace before war, his uncle was nothing but a war mongering and angry man. He had none of his brother’s kindness, and a jealous streak which had always played itself out in his attempts to seek power and influence where he could. The belief that Duncan was dead had no doubt made him very pleased indeed and paved the way for his natural succession as Laird. Now that the rightful heir had returned there was no doubting that his uncle’s jealousy would resurface.

  “I have, Alistair, ye are a good man and I cannae blame ye all for movin’ on with yer lives in the belief that I was dead. I wish ye and Arabel every happiness in yer marriage come the spring,” Duncan said, nodding his head at his cousin who sighed.

  “Aye, well, tis’ the marriage that I wish to speak with ye of. The arrangement between Arabel and I is one that has long been made but it was made in the belief that ye were dead. I know she loves ye, Duncan and I cannae see her unhappy in a marriage that she dinna wish for, now that ye have returned,” he said, his face flushed with emotion and his hands shaking a little as he spoke.

  “I cannae take Arabel from ye, Alistair, and besides, yer father would never allow it. He wants Arabel to continue the line and for ye to be Laird and yer children,” Duncan replied.

  “But the title is rightfully yers, he should renounce it now that ye have returned. I will speak with him if ye wish it, make him see reason,” Alistair said, shaking his head, “I will nae see ye pushed out from yer rightful inheritance, Duncan. I have nay wish to be Laird, tis’ a thankless task and one I would be ill suited to. Tis’ I who would like to go away to a croft and farm in peace, away from all the intrigues and dealings of this castle. It has never been my wish to take yer place, cousin.”

  Duncan breathed a heavy sigh and rising from his place he went over to his cousin and placed his arms around his shoulders, much to the other’s surprise.

  “Ye are a good man, Alistair and ye have proved yerself a good friend too by yer words. But we both know yer father and we both know that he will never allow such a thing to happen. Ye are to marry Arabel and he is to be Laird until his death and intends ye to inherit. Anythin’ else would be more trouble than it’s worth,” Duncan said.

  “Isnae love worth somethin’ Duncan?” Alistair said, “the love ye have for Arabel? I can see it on both yer faces and she has mourned for ye these long years past. There is no other man that she loves except for ye. I am a poor substitute and I dinna wish to be one anyhow.”

  Duncan nodded and thanked his cousin once more. But he knew that there was no hope in what he promised. Fraser Campbell would not be moved and it would take far more than the words of Alistair or the pleading of Arabel to change his mind.

  The two cousins sat for much of the morning, reminiscing over the past and speaking tentatively of the future. Duncan had no intention of leaving the castle just yet, but when he did, he thought he might journey north to the crofts which had once been friendly to his father. There was little else he could do. He had nothing and whilst Fraser remained alive he would have nothing, except by his own merits.

  “My offer still stands, cousin,” Alistair said as he took his leave of Duncan later that morning.

  “And so dae my words too,” Duncan replied, “I cannae simply return here and take everything back. Times are different and I must accept that, ye and I both ken we will nae change yer father’s mind and I have nae hope of gatherin’ strength for a rebellion. Such a thing would tear this clan apart and I dinnae wish to be the one who does that.”

  Alistair nodded and the two men embraced each other once more, each assuring the other that the loyalties of their childhood remained as strong as ever.

  “Dae ye remember when I got stuck up in the tree by the river?” Alistair said as he took his leave.

  “Aye, I stayed with ye the whole mornin’ to make sure ye were alright and then when Arabel came runnin’ from the castle to call us for lunch I made her go and summon help,” Duncan replied, smiling.

  “Aye, I have never forgotten that. Ye were a loyal friend, and it has stood ye in good stead. I cannae imagine what ye have gone through these long years past, but I assure ye, Duncan that ye still have a friend in me,” Alistair said.

  “Thank ye, Alistair and I can say the same too,” Duncan replied, and he bid his cousin farewell.

  But Duncan knew that he could never accept what his cousin had said, or rather his uncle could never accept such a situation. He knew he loved Arabel just as much as he ever had done, perhaps even more so now, but that the opportunity for their happiness together was gone.

  “Ye must accept it,” he said to himself, settling down in front of the fire, “tis’ nay good wishin’ somethin’ that cannae happen.”

  Chapter 4

  The Walk to Christmas

  Christmas was fast approaching and there was a feast planned at the castle of the Campbells. Whilst Fraser Campbell had let much of the estate fall into disrepair, he still liked to play the Laird and each year he held a great feast, at vast expense, to celebrate the Christmas feast. Folks would come from far and wide to stay at the castle and enjoy Fraser’s hospitality. There would be a magnificent banquet, barrels of ale and whisky, pipe music and dancing and the great hall would be lavishly decorated in preparation.

  Duncan had avoided the preparations, confining himself for much of the day to his chambers. He had no wish to further antagonize his uncle, who made it plain that he was not welcome. The two tolerated one another, for it was surely in Fraser Campbell’s best interests to not show open hostility towards the man who had a rightful claim over the title of Laird.

  There were whisperings amongst the servants and some of those who had already arrived for the feast, that Fraser Campbell was preparing to renounce the title. Such speculation was nonsense of course, but when a rumor starts, it is often hard to quash and Duncan could not help but give a wry smile when first he heard it. He knew that his uncle would remain Laird for as long as he could hold on to power, but Duncan had no desire to oust him from his position. He was a peaceful man and had no interest in such a conflict with his uncle, nor did he wish to divide the clan into factions for he knew there were many who had loyalty to his uncle and would not see Duncan replace him.

  Instead he had decided to drift away into obscurity, once the better weather of spring came to the glen. He would become a crofter and live a simple life up on the mountainside. He had always possessed an interest in farming and the life he had led with the English had given him a disposition towards simplicity. He had had no choice in the matter and now, with the prospect of banishment ahead, he looked forward only to settling down and forgetting the whole sorry business.

  But there was one person he could not forget, and it was the thought of Arabel which kept him from simply leaving there and then. Despite his words to Alistair, and the noble way in which he had renounced to him any thoughts of marriage to her, Duncan still loved Arabel with all his heart. She was his first thought upon waking and his last thought at night. He delighted in her, more so than he ever had done before and each time he laid eyes on her he found his heart ever more drawn to her.

  It was a love he knew was forbidden, one he had denied himself, but one he knew would forever hold his heart. As Christmas approached and the preparations for the feast continued, Duncan Campbell knew his heart was torn; his love for Arabel almost overwhelming him so intense were his feelings.

  ***

  “Shall we take a walk this mornin’ Duncan?” Arabel asked at breakfast time a few days later.

  The snow had relented somewhat, no longer drivi
ng in blizzards but lying in thick drifts, carpeting the forest in an endless white sheet. The sky was bright and clear that day and Alistair and his father had already gone off to the loch to break through the ice and fish.

  Duncan nodded and smiled at Arabel who held out her arm. The two had finished their meal, and they now walked out onto the courtyard, shielding their eyes against the glare of the sunlight reflected upon the snow.

  “I can hardly see,” Arabel said, laughing as she stumbled in the snow.

  “Careful, lass, ye shall fall like ye did when we were children, do ye remember that winter?” Duncan said, steadying her.

  “Aye, how could I forget. Ye and Alistair laughed at me for a week and I had a bruise the size of an apple on my thigh,” she replied, almost slipping again and letting out a shriek of laughter.

  Donald McGowan opened the gates for them and bid them good day as they stepped out into the forest. Here, the snow lay thick and drifting against the trees but they were able to pick out the track leading through the forest, following the route by which Duncan had arrived several days previously. His tracks had long been covered by fresh snow fall, but they could clearly make out those of Fraser and Alistair heading towards the loch, and now their own tracks joined theirs as they headed deeper into the forest.

  “Tis’ so very beautiful at this time of year when the snows come, though I shall not begrudge the arrival of spring when the flowers shall grow once more. I love to see everythin’ burstin’ into life again,” Arabel said as she took Duncan’s arm to steady herself once more.

  “Aye, tis’ a beautiful sight. I saw little of nature during my years of captivity. The outside world may as well have lain across a vast ocean,” Duncan replied.

  “Ye were never allowed to go out? Never allowed to see nature?” she said, shaking her head.

  “I would have done my best to escape,” he replied. “They kent that and so I was confined to the castle for all those years. They’d have held me there the rest of my life, had I nae escaped.”

  “Wicked things men dae to one another, wicked,” she said, sighing. “But ye are home now, Duncan and soon it will be yer first Christmas amongst us and that is somethin’ to rejoice in, dinna ye think?”

  “Aye and I am happy to be here,” he said as they walked on through the forest.

  In the distance they could hear the sounds of breaking ice down on the loch and the shouts of Fraser to his son, but up in the forest all was quiet and as they came to a bend in the track Duncan paused and turned to Arabel who smiled.

  “Dae ye remember where we are now?” he said, smiling at her.

  “Aye, just up that bank, the tree where we carved our initials,” she said, pointing up to the tree above, “dae ye think they are still there?”

  Duncan blushed and told her that he had climbed the bank just the other day to see. She was delighted to discover that the carvings of their youth were indeed still there, and beckoned him up the bank. She smiled at him, but there was a look in her eyes which seemed almost sad. As though she wished for the simplicity of that moment in their youth when they had carved their initials into the tree and life had seemed endlessly to stretch out before them, simple and without the cares which burdened them.

  They held each other’s hands as they scrambled up the bank. Arabel clutching Duncan, the two of them slipping and sliding in the snow.

  “I shall be soaked, Duncan,” Arabel said, as they plunged into a drift of snow which came almost to their waists.

  “Nearly there, see, take my hand again,” Duncan said and the two of them now came to the top of the bank.

  The tree stood tall and proud, and Duncan led Arabel around the trunk to where the names were clearly visible, carved into the trunk.

  “Still here, even after all these years,” she said, shaking her head and running her fingers along the grooves, just as Duncan had done the other day.

  “We were but bairns when we carved these words,” Duncan said, placing his own fingers into the grooves.

  “Aye, so much to look forward to, so much hope,” she said, her voice breaking a little before she composed herself. “What a difference all the years make. Tis’ easy though to have regrets when ye look back, I suppose tis’ what ye dae in the here and now that matters most.”

  Duncan nodded, and he turned to her, a look of sadness upon his own face too.

  “I … if only we could go back to those simpler times, Arabel. I … I thought of ye every day in that castle and it was that thought which kept me goin’ through the dark times. I still love ye just as much as I did back then, if not more. Ye mean everythin’ to me and all I want is for ye to be happy,” he said, taking hold of her hands and blushing as their eyes met.

  “Oh, Duncan, I am sorry, I am sorry I dinna wait, but I … I couldnae. And poor Alistair, he has been very sweet, and he is kind too. Nothin’ like his father, I would hate to hurt him, but Fraser wouldnae ever allow it. He has me as his prize, I am to provide his heir and secure his position as Laird. Tis’ an impossible situation and one which will make us all unhappy,” she said.

  At these words Duncan took her in his arms and held her to him. Her embrace felt warm and tender, just as he had remembered and just the way he had imagined it every night of his captivity. She placed her head upon his shoulder and the two stood for several moments amidst the stillness of the forest.

  “I love ye, Arabel,” Duncan said.

  “I love ye too,” she replied, and the two shared a kiss.

  It was a moment that Duncan had longed for, though he knew now that it was forbidden. They both did, but neither seemed willing to stop, their passions inflamed, as ten years of longing now found its expression.

  “Ye are so very beautiful,” Duncan said, and he kissed her again, but as he did so a shout came from down below, causing both of them to startle.

  “Duncan, Arabel, come here and help with the fish. What are ye doin’ up there?” Fraser Campbell called, and Duncan and Arabel looked down to find the Laird with a large bucket in hand, just as Alistair came breathlessly up behind him.

  “Arabel, come and see, we have caught the largest salmon I have ever seen in winter. It will be a treat for the Christmas feast,” Alistair said, as Duncan and Arabel scrambled down the bank, slipping and sliding in the snow.

  “Aye, tis’ enormous,” Arabel said, looking down into the bucket and smiling at Alistair as Duncan stood to the side.

  “Come now, ye two take the bucket and be off,” Fraser said, pointing back towards the castle.

  Alistair nodded and carrying the fish bucket between them they made their way off through the trees. Leaving Duncan alone with his uncle, who turned to him and scowled, his face contorted in a most unpleasant expression.

  “I saw the two of ye, dinna think I am a fool. Ye treacherous swine, dae ye really think that after ten years away ye can simply walk back in here and claim everythin’ ye think is rightfully yers? Let me tell ye, lad, tis’ nae, ye hear me,” Fraser said, and he grabbed Duncan by the scruff of his tunic and pushed him down into the snow.

  Duncan struggled, but his uncle had him in a tight grip, his face so close that Donald could see the whites of his eyes.

  “Uncle, stop this,” Duncan said, struggling in Fraser’s grip, “I have nay intention of takin’ Arabel from Alistair, but I cannae help that I still feel for her.”

  “Ye can bury such a feelin’ deep, ye hear me and go far away from here, else I shall see to it that ye regret the day ye returned here,” Fraser said, and he let go of Duncan’s tunic, striding off up the path after Alistair and Arabel.

  Duncan picked himself up and brushed off the snow. He had no intention of going anywhere and his uncle’s idle threats held no sway over him. He had not escaped the clutches of the English and traveled halfway across Scotland to be banished from his own home forever. The life of a crofter might well have its attractions, but even if Duncan could not marry Arabel, he had no intention of leaving her at the mercy of this wicked
man.

  He waited a little while before returning to the castle, the skies beginning to darken up above. A fresh flurry of snow was approaching, and the wind was picking up. The winter was harsher than those he remembered from his youth and he pulled his cloak around him tightly. He had borrowed clothes from his cousin and made do with some of his father’s old tunics, still in a chest at the foot of what had once been his bed.

  He missed the old man terribly and as he came into the courtyard some time later he went straight over to the grave mounds. Duncan kneeled in the snow, his trousers already soaking wet and he bowed his head in respect, offering up a silent prayer for his parents’ souls.

  “Are ye alright, lad?” Donald McGowan said, startling Duncan who looked up and nodded.

  “Aye, I just wish he was still here, I just wish this was the homecomin’ I imagined it to be and nae the nightmare I seemed to have walked into,” Duncan replied.

  “Dinna despair, Duncan. Ye have a lot of support amongst ordinary folks like me,” Donald said, kneeling next to Duncan and placing a hand on his shoulder. “There’s plenty that dinna like yer uncle bein’ Laird. When he proclaimed himself as such, a lot of folks said he was only Laird in name until the rightful heir returned. Yer uncle told us he knew ye were dead, but now ye have returned there is talk that yer uncle should step aside and let ye take yer rightful place.”

  Duncan sighed and shook his head, rising from the snow and looking down sadly at his parents’ grave, as a fresh flurry of snow began to fall.

  “I am nay soldier, Donald, and I wish my uncle nay ill even if he wishes me such. I just want a peaceful life and if tis’ nae my destiny to be Laird then so be it. But tis’ Arabel I worry about,” he replied.

  “Aye, the lass mourned for ye these many a year. Alistair is a good man, but he is nae ye, and what Arabel wants is ye. Tis’ clear to see. But ye must be careful, lad, yer uncle’s heart has become bitter and twisted over these long years and he would see ye gone from here,” Donald said.