by Ria Cantrell
Sadly, as the fates would have it, my time with Ian would be precious. Alas, t’was truly not long before Ian was taken from me. A young bride was I and an even younger widow I became. But those early days in my marriage bed were ones that brought me great joy and I treasure them still today even though I am very old. My days as Ian’s wife were happy ones.
I settled into the house he had made me and I loved the ordinary things like cooking and cleaning and preparing my herbs for healing. Life was not ordinary for me even though at that time I did not know that Ian would soon be taken from me. Och, I so enjoyed the time I spent even just talking to Ian. His voice was deep and rich and I could lose myself in the timbre of it. His laughter always reached his eyes and the happy sound of it filled my heart to bursting. I never grew tired of looking at Ian for he was a bonny lad if ere there was one.
Because Ian was broad of shoulder and the breadth of his chest turned many a lassie’s eye, as did the handsomeness of his face, I was certainly not immune to his rakish good looks. He was strong, aye, with arms muscled from work in the fields and with his sword. When he was nay working with sword or plow, he worked with wood, carvin’ and building things for us and for many of the clansman. His hands were rough from his work, but they were ever gentle when he worked them on me.
I have already said that his eyes were of the softest brown and they were fringed with dark lashes that made this lass’ will crumble like petals in the wind. I vow that I could spend hours kissing his lips. Or for that matter, having him kiss me. He always had a smile for me despite what his day had held. There was never a time where he ever spoke a cross word to me. Ian worked hard and he ne’er complained. His clan and family were the most important things in his world and I was at the top of those he held dear.
It was nay very long after our wedding day that I found myself carrying his babe. I still remember the day that he came home tired from working in the fields. I had news to tell him that I knew would make him happy. When Ian learned he was going to be a father, he swung me around and laughed until tears formed in the corner of his eyes. I laughed as he twirled me about, causing the room to spin around me. There was nothing more that would make Ian happy than to start a family with me. I thought that day, my life would be complete and I would spend my days caring for Ian and the children we would bring into our happy world. I thought I would grow old in Ian’s precious arms. I never thought that I would be living so many days; so many endless days without the one man of my heart.
They say that time heals all hurts but for me that was nay to be. Nothing could heal me; nothing could soothe me; nothing could fill my heart that would only beat for Ian. I had many years to live; the Guardians saw fit to that and perhaps it was so that my heart could heal after so long an eternity from the loss in the days of my youth. I was told the pain would dull with the passing of time and that I would love again, but I never did--it never did. I ne’er remarried and I vowed and pledged no love to any other man; at least nay in the way that a woman’s heart can do.
Aye, I loved Donal MacCollum as Laird of the clan and his son Caleb, after him. I loved the children left under my ward and care even though they were nay my own, but I did not open my heart to a man like I had with my Ian. Or for that matter to a child like my Tavish, my beautiful and perfect son. Ach, ye’ may say he was nay perfect, what with his frail little body that longed to grow strong, but he was perfect to me. It dinna’ matter that he was ill or weak. Nay, Tavish was my perfect child and though I raised and even loved the children of others, no other would fill his place in my heart.
Chapter Twelve – The Sacred Binding Rite
There are reasons why I never promised myself to another man and one of those is because on the night Ian and I were wed, we did take the Ancient Binding Rite that my own mother had taken when she married my father. My father remarried, even though he had spoken the vows back to my mother, or so I was told. Alas, perhaps for my da’s Christian predilections, I think that he did nay take the Rite to his total being. I am nay saying that my father did nay love my mother; he did. T’is just that I think for the ones that had not fully embraced the Old Ways, the Rite held less merit.
Not so for me; for me, I always had known that this Rite links souls for all eternity and like the promises made during the Christian ceremony, the Binding Rite carries past the mortal life span of a person and linked souls even in to the life hereafter. After the first time that Ian loved me, and our bodies were joined, we knelt facing each other, on that big bed that Ian had made for us. We gazed into each other’s eyes and he asked me if I wished to take the Binding Vows. He knew how important it was for me to speak them. There would have been nothing to cause me to ever say no to this man. Nothing!
Ian was my soul mate. He was the man who had ever been in my heart even at a time when a young girl knew of no such things. I always knew, from the time I was a small girl, that Ian MacCollum’s heart and mine were cast from the same mold and without one, the other one could not beat properly--at least that is how it felt for me. It is as if it happened yesterday and the vow still holds true in my heart. I can remember every second of that sacred ritual. It warms my heart and I smile when I think upon it and remember it now for it is such a joyous memory for me to share….
~~~~~
~Ian and Morag faced one another in the light of the dying fire. They needed not stoke it to stir it to life for the fire that burned between them, simmered within their breasts and warmed the pair more than enough. Looking deeply into one another’s eyes, and clasping each other’s hands, they knelt before one another on the bed that Ian had carved for their wedding night. At first he whispered the words in Gaelic and so softly did he speak that Morag leaned in to hear each word. She did not need to really hear them for she felt them in her heart. She knew the import of him speaking such words and Ian did, too.
Ian was not a man who spoke such vows lightly. When he made such a pledge, he meant it. Once the words were spoken, they could not be taken back for Ian’s and Morag’s heart would be melded into one. Morag knew that the Binding Rite could not and should not be taken carelessly. It was more than just a promise with words; it was a unifying of souls. She had hoped that Ian would want to speak them with her, but she had not been certain that it would be so. Her own father had spoken them with her mother but for Morag it seemed that while her parents were wed, perhaps the Binding was not finished, else her father would not have been able to wed another after her mother’s demise.
Morag thought of her dear mother in this instant and she wished with all her heart that Moira MacCollum was still living to finish the supplications, come the morning once the Binding had set during the night. Morag would have to finish the prayers alone, or perhaps see if one of the other women who still fostered the Old Ways could do it for her. For now, she was drawn back to Ian’s whispered words.
It was time to dispel the sudden thoughts of sadder times and to entrust herself to her truest mate. Morag’s heart was so filled with love that nothing could have prevented her from speaking the Sacred Rite to him as well. As he spoke the words, “To ye’ I put my heart so that forever I will be incomplete without ye’. Yer’ heart is now mine. Yer’ soul is the half of mine that if separated, I will die without ye’. Yer’ flesh is of my flesh and we are one. To undo the Rite means to tear out half of my heart, to lose half of my soul and cleave my body in twain.”
As he spoke the last of that phrase, he took her hand and placed it over his heart. Morag could feel it beating strongly and she stretched her fingers over his chest. Ian continued, “I pledge my love to ye’, my wife. I vow to nay betray this Rite or our marriage bed. Ye’ have my troth and I no longer am just me, but part of ye’ as well.”
Morag nodded, consumed by the love of the man she faced. Her throat felt constricted with emotion as she gazed into the love-filled eyes of the only man she could ever hold in her heart. She then, in turn, spoke the vows; repeating them exactly as he had spoken them to her. She f
elt the shift in the air around them as the Binding was encircling them. Instantly, Morag could feel the shimmer of the Ancients as the Sacred Rite fused their souls when the last words were spoken. Ian could feel it too. He was holding his breath as the magnitude of what they had done washed over him. Morag searched his face to see if he had regrets and she saw none there. He was smiling and the smoldering passion was building again as he gazed at her. Aye, t’was how it should be! She would give herself to him again, gladly and join their bodies as their souls had been fused with the Sacred Binding Rite.~
~~~~~
T’was for that reason that I never loved another man enough to marry him. Ian had honored me with his takin’ of the Sacred Vows. He honored the Old Ways, too, and that meant so much to me fer’ he knew that I was rooted in the practices of the Ancients. It was part of who I was then and who I have become; who I remain today. I was thankful that neither Donal nor Caleb forced me into a marriage with someone else. It was as if they knew that doing so would only cause me more grief and both of them somehow understood that I could not take more heart ache, even despite the passing of time. For their care and sympathetic indulgence, I am ever grateful. My marriage to Ian may have been brief, but I loved him enough to last my entire long life. After the Binding Rite was completed, we created a circle to forge the bond; this bond could ne’er be broken; no matter how much time passes in one’s life.
Since that night, I aided a few in sealing a Binding. Only a few dare to take it now and it cannot be entered into lightly. If one chooses to break a Binding, there are untold consequences that cannot be denied. Should a body enter into it lightly, the Guardians and the Ancients will meter out terrible consequences, but when a Binding is done with pure hearts and true giving of each other, very little can shake the foundation of such a bond. I am not saying that if people are parted in death, as Ian and I were, that there can nay be another marriage, but for me, it was so. Maybe I am a silly old woman for denying myself the chance to be wed again, but I stand by my choices.
When a Binding is done, to this day, I can feel the shift that surrounds the couple who honor each other with it. I need not be a part of the ritual to know it has been done. I seem to have felt it through the ages; although the longer time passes, the Rite is done less and less it seems. Still, when two hearts know each other, even through time and space, the Ancients will aid them toward a true and full Binding. God forbid it is broken--God forbid it, indeed!
So, for me, even after my beloved Ian passed into eternity, I could not allow my heart to love another man. I just could not. I believe that Ian waits for me now, even after all this time I have walked the earth without him. My heart still feels him and no amount of desire or attraction to another man would ever stop that.
Ah, I was weak on occasions, and although these were seldom and few, I carry the burden of my weakness. I allowed a man to woo me a time or two. I was young and beautiful, you see, and I had tasted passion in the marriage bed with Ian. After I lost my Tavish, I dinna’ care what punishments lie in wait for me. Nay! I was so blinded with pain that my body gave into the yearnings that a young woman’s body can still have. I was yet a fresh and vital woman, which is nay an excuse, but a fact. It was hard to tamp down what Ian had awakened in me. That and the ravages of grief can cause a woman to find comfort in a man’s bed, if only to blot out the sorrow for a little while.
There were a couple of men who I allowed to become my lovers on occasion. Beltane was always a reminder of budding passion and so, as is the custom sometimes, a girl will seek the arms of a man. It just is the way of things. I was no different. I had needs like any girl. I craved to be held or to be kissed or to cry out in passion as I had done with Ian. Alas, afterward, I always felt like I had betrayed him; regardless that he was nay to return to me in my mortal existence. A few years after his passing, even though I was still beautiful to behold, I stopped seeking out the bed of others. I owed my Ian that much. I hope that when we next see each other, he will be able to forgive me for those times I betrayed his memory.
Chapter Thirteen – Caleb and Mara
When I was not as old as I am today, but long enough gone from that once youthful woman I had been, I was called again to raise children that were not my own. I had helped in the raising of Donal MacCollum’s babes after his goodly wife kissed heaven’s door. I saw his sons and daughters to adulthood. They all married and brought their own broods to the clan and I saw a time of peace and prosperity.
Gavin Campbell was still Laird of his offshoot of the clan and though I could nay speak to him, I always knew that he was my trusted friend. I knew that he would ne’er give the orders to strike against the MacCollum Laird, while he was hale enough to keep his renegade son and then further, his grandsons at bay. What happened later on was not of his choosing and so he canna’ be held at fault for anything that would eventually come to pass at the hands of those who were nothing like the man I had grown up befriending.
The old Laird, Donal had left this world some time before that and Caleb MacCollum, his son, took strong hold of the clan left to his care. Caleb has been aught but a good and powerful leader of the clan that is as much part of my heart as my beloved Ian has been. Though he was quite a young man to take title of Laird at the time, he rose to the ever changing challenge of Laird and leader. Caleb has become one of my dearest friends in this life that I have been granted to see and as the years have taken their toll on me, I have tales yet to tell.
Like Donal, Caleb saw my value and worth to his household as a chatelaine, nursemaid and clan healer. He dinna’ shun me or have me removed from his home when he took on the responsibilities of laird of the clan. Nay, instead, he set me as revered and honored and treated me like one of his own. It appeared my days acting as his nursemaid and chatelaine had forged an endearment in his heart for me. I was ever grateful as it seemed I would ne’er be without a home in the clan.
Caleb and Mairgred married on a brisk autumn day and they were soon blessed with a strapping bairn, who they named Jamie. Och, I loved that lad from the day he squalled a lusty cry and I helped Lady Mairgred with the trials that a new bairn brings into a household. It filled my empty heart, it did, takin’ care of a braw boy. It was nay long before he was joined by his brothers Liam and Shawn. Almost each year, Mairgred brought Caleb a healthy son since their wedding day and I was content in my role to care for them alongside of her. Sometimes, I think, the children felt they had two mothers instead of the one, and Lady Mairgred always encouraged the children to respect and love me as they did her.
Sadly, what Caleb could nay see, or would nay, perhaps, was that with the birth of each child, strength seemed to be sapping a little more life from Mairgred. I saw it, but I kept my mouth shut. T’was nay my place to school the laird in the breeding of his sons! Nay! I could not tell him that Mairgred should nay bring too many more children into the world. How does one tell a man that he must stay away from his own wife? Well, I could nay for sure. Instead, I sought the herbs to mix for her to help her gain some of her vitality back. Och, she ne’er complained. The lass was strong of will, like all her bairns would be and what she lacked in physical strength, she made up for by sheer determination of spirit. She ne’er so much as stated that she felt tired even though I could see her weakening right before my eyes. I wanted to warn her nay to carry another child, but I could nay find the words to tell a woman such a thing. And so, the following year saw the birth of my beloved Rory, or as I mentioned, Ruiri as we had grown to call him.
It was after Ruiri’s birth that I knew I had to speak else Lady Mairgred’s health would suffer seriously. I finally tried to plead with the lady that mayhap she had given the laird enough bairns to fill the halls of MacCollum, but she would nay have any of my counsel. She said t’was a woman’s duty to provide strong sons for the clan and as long as the good Lord blessed her to carry, she would give Caleb all the children she could bear.
I think she thought that if she could nay longer carry a
child that the laird would turn from her. I mean, well, it happens, but I knew that nothing could sway Laird Caleb from the side of his woman. He was utterly devoted to her, even if she had her doubts about her worth to him. Whether she was headstrong or foolish, I know not, but there finally seemed a time that she was done breeding. When the next year and the year after that came without a new bairn, I thought that perhaps she had heeded my warnings at last or mayhap the One God saw fit to have Mairgred’s birthin’ days come to an end.
I prayed prayers of thanksgiving knowing that the lady’s health had suffered because of the short times between her carrying. She seemed to rally then, as her wee body had a chance to heal and strengthen. Yet, for all her good health, the Lady Mairgred seemed sad, like she truly believed that she was of no more use to the Laird. It could nay have been further from the truth in her thinking.
Laird Caleb was like a young stud, but he loved Mairgred and every time he looked upon her, his eyes shone with devotion and adoration for her. It was as if the sun rose and set upon her as far as Caleb was concerned. Besides, he was well pleased with his brood of sons and watching them grow brought joy to everyone’s lives, especially Caleb’s. I was happy to care for those boys, even though they gave me a good run, they did. I vow many of the graying hairs on my head came about from that band of wee ruffians. They delighted in teasing me or performing some sort of trickery that would set my heart to stopping. I had my hands full, to say the least with that litter of wild pups, to be sure.
