by Adams, Alisa
William smiled and hugged her. "Elisha, I would be overjoyed if you are right, but if there is a God, he has not seen fit to bless me with good fortune till very recently. I am not holding my breath. Columba is a good man and a good priest, but an angel? I think not."
Cameron was gazing at Andie as the discussion was going on. He had never been so happy. Marriage was completely suited to his temperament, and he loved his wife to distraction.
Andie was a person who needed to be needed, and since she was no longer looking after Iona, Cameron suited her very well. She could never have imagined a better husband. He was loving, attentive, unselfish, and last but not least, handsome!
A few months ago, she thought, smiling at him, I could never have imagined this was possible. Maybe Columba is an angel.
Life went on for a few months. Beglin castle was a little further out of the way than the other three Castles, so visits from the McCallums were less frequent. However, the McCallums and Elisha made a trip to see the others about a month before Alexa was due to give birth.
As Columba had predicted before he left, Iona was pregnant and due to give birth sometime around the end of summer. Iona had been stunned by the news, but Gregor, who knew Columba better than anyone else, was not surprised. He was absolutely ecstatic and proudly showed Iona off everywhere he went. He became an expert on the conditions that afflicted pregnant women and vetted just about everything she ate or drank.
"He is driving me out of my wits!" Iona said to Alexa, Lorraine and Moira one day. "He never stops fussing! He was exactly the same when Columba left - he is like an old woman."
"Be grateful, Iona." Moira laughed. "He is a treasure. There are some husbands who abandon their wives during their confinement because they cannot lie with them. Then they go off drinking, whoring and gambling. You have one of the good ones."
"I suppose so," Iona said and sighed. "But I am so tired of being with child!"
Alexa patted Iona's belly, which was still relatively small compared to her own. "Towards the end, you will feel like clawing your husband's face off!" She laughed. "You will feel like taking your belly off and giving it to him for a while, then asking him how it feels. Then you will become angry with him and tell him it is all his fault."
"And what will he answer?" Iona asked.
"He will tell you that he would bear the child for you if he could, but he is a man and God did not design his body for that purpose." Then she giggled. "But at least Auguste did not give me the speech about the sin of Eve and the apple being responsible for the pain of women in childbirth!"
Moira giggled and looked at Iona. "And we all know why that is - he wouldn’t dare!" she said. "You have heard the story of how they met?"
"I have," Iona replied, grinning.
"So, he never challenges her with stories like that, does he, Alexa?"
"I think he tried it once," she mused, "but only once."
Since Columba had prayed over Donalda and William's scars, they had begun to fade, imperceptibly at first, but then faster, until there were only traces left. By the time they arrived at Hamilton Castle, both mother and son's blemishes were barely noticeable. They had faded to a pink that was slightly darker than the rest of their faces, and it seemed that at some time in the near future they would be gone.
Donalda had spoken to William about it a number of times, but they could find no logical explanation for the phenomenon. Perhaps birthmarks could disappear spontaneously over time, but it seemed strange that they would both go away at exactly the same time. So perhaps it was because of Columba's intervention.
Eventually, Donalda accepted it as God's will, but William could not. He would have no faith, nor credit anything to God for the rest of his long life. He was determined not to. Both of them had come to Hamilton castle to witness the departure of the Baron of Portree and the Laird of Beglin to Inverness for trial and possibly execution.
Craig had been moldering in the dungeons at Hamilton Castle for months. He had become so thin, despite the fact that his diet was plain but adequate, that he was no more than a walking skeleton. On the odd occasion that Iona went to see him to make sure that he was fit enough to travel when he was summoned to trial, he would skulk at the back of his cell and refuse to speak to her. However, Iona was not particularly concerned about whether he spoke or not, where he was in the cell, or indeed whether he was alive or dead.
If he was dead, it would save them the time and expense of taking him to Inverness, and if he died, then everyone's troubles would be over. The baron had also, mercifully lost some weight, although he was still the size of a carthorse. The prisoners were exercised once every two days by taking them out in the fresh air and allowing them to walk around the castle courtyard twenty times at a brisk pace. The Baron's performance had become marginally better, but he still puffed and blew like the east wind.
He was no more communicative than Craig, but Iona knew that it pained him to see her so happily pregnant. She knew that he thought that the child in her womb could have, and at least in his own mind, should have been his. She always came with Gregor, who was everything the Baron was not. He was tall, strong and handsome, and it was obvious that he and Iona loved each other very much. Hector Laughlin could have screamed with rage, and frequently did, but never within their earshot. He was too much of a coward.
45
A Birth and a Death
The time had come when they had to go to Inverness for the trial. Craig was inwardly terrified, although outwardly blasé. He knew what awaited him. He had not only poisoned Marianne's drink - he had loosened the horseshoe nails too, although the Baron had passed it off as an accident, hoping that he could blackmail Craig later. They were all spared the time and misery of the Baron's trial, however. The night before they were to go, as they were all sitting at dinner, one of the men-at-arms came to whisper in Neil's ear. He frowned and beckoned Gregor.
"It seems we have a situation downstairs, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Gregor and I will take care of it, and will be back forthwith. Eat, please."
Gregor blew Iona a kiss as he went. "What is it?" he asked his father, frowning.
"The Baron has died," Neil replied, "saving us much-unwanted trouble."
Gregor gave a cynical laugh. "I cannot honestly pretend to be sorry," he said grimly. "He was a lecher and a brute, and I have no doubt that a special place in hell awaits him. Did he die in his sleep?"
The Laird shrugged. "I have no idea," he replied, "let us see. I have to confess though, God forgive me, that I hope it was slow and painful."
"He will have to forgive me too then, Father, because I would like exactly the same thing." Gregor's tone was heavy and menacing, reminding Neil of the growl of approaching thunder.
When they got to his cell, they saw, somewhat to their satisfaction, that the Baron had not had a peaceful death. It was a gruesome sight.
The Baron's body was sprawled, with his shoulders and his head on the cold stone wall, his legs wide apart on the floor. His head was lolling to one side and his open eyes were staring at nothing. There was a trickle of blood coming out of the side of his mouth and his nostrils, and more on the front of his shirt where he had coughed it up.
"Has the priest been sent for?" Gregor asked.
"Aye, Sir," the guard replied, "we sent for him as soon as we saw him. We didnae hear a thing till he started coughin' an' by then it wis too late."
"He is dead," Neil said heavily, "and no-one killed him, so it is pointless trying to find out why. Father Patrick is coming to see us now. I will give him a donation to the church and ask him to put him in a pauper's grave since I have no intention of buying a tombstone for him."
He left instructions with the guards to have the body taken away after the priest had seen him, then went back to the dining room. As they passed his cell, Craig caught Gregor's sleeve.
"The Baron has died?" he asked, with desperation in his voice.
"Yes, sometime during the night," Gregor answ
ered, "so, you will have to go to the gallows alone." He said no more but followed his father upstairs.
When they entered the dining room everyone looked up at them expectantly. "The Baron has died," Gregor announced. "Not in his sleep, and not peacefully. I am not a medical man but it looks as though there may have been some trouble with his heart or lungs."
"Should we pray for him?" Lorraine asked.
Gregor looked at his father.
"You may if you wish," he said, "but personally I think that he has already gone where he belongs and it is not with the angels."
The Baron’s body was taken out that day for burial, and although he had lost weight, it still took four strong men-at-arms to carry him.
Iona gazed at the body as it passed by her. Even though the man had been one of the worst human beings she had ever encountered, in death he looked small and pathetic, as if his life force had gone, and left him shriveled and shrunken. Instead of being composed on his chest, his arms were dangling loosely from the door on which they were carrying him. They hefted his body onto a farm cart, the only vehicle strong enough to carry him, then they took him away for a pauper’s burial which no-one attended but the priest and the gravedigger.
Far from looking happy that he was dead, Iona looked drained and pale. I should be pleased, she thought, glad that he is gone, but now he is just a thing. And in a short, while he will not even be that.
Gregor put his arms around her. “He is just a bad memory now, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. He patted her stomach. “We will be making good ones from now on.”
“You are right, as you always are, Gregor,” she smiled. They turned away, and suddenly the world seemed full of possibilities.
Then Craig was led upstairs from the dungeon, hands tied together with sturdy rope. He looked thin and pale, and he blinked at the sudden strong light. He had been in the dark for months and his eyes were not accustomed to it.
People crossed themselves as he passed. Many held up crucifixes and mumbled prayers. A few spat at him.
“Father Columba would have blessed him,” Lorraine said sadly. She had always been a soft-hearted person and although she had known of this man’s evil, she could not find it in herself to hate him. Later, she said a rosary for him. She also had another wish, and she prayed for that too, hoping that God would see fit to grant it.
Alexa went into labor that day. It took hours, but finally, it was over, much to Alexa’s relief. The little creature who emerged from her womb was a boy, and as usual, Auguste was in the way.
He hugged Alexa so tightly she thought her ribs would crack. "Il est parfait," he said breathily, "he is perfect." He put his little finger in the tiny hand, which closed around it instantly, holding on with a powerful grip.
The wailing stopped the instant the child was put to the breast and a sucking, slurping sound began which made them both laugh fondly. After he had finished, Alexa fell soundly asleep. Auguste carried Lucien Montgomery Chevalier downstairs to be adored, then passed around for everyone to kiss. Finally, Graham filled up their wine glasses.
"Let us drink to Lucien, Alexa and Auguste!"
"Slàinte!" they chorused.
Auguste carried his new baby upstairs and put him down in the crib beside his mother. Lorraine did not want to let go of the baby.
A short time later they received news of a disturbing nature. Craig McCallum, on the ferry from Portree, had managed to untie his hands and throw himself in the icy waters of The Minch, sinking like a stone and drowning in the freezing cold sea.
“I would rather have hanged,” Gregor said, as he held Iona in his arms that night. “I cannot think of a more terrible way to die.”
“I thought we were not talking about dying anymore?” Iona said, frowning. She tried to get up on one elbow to look down at him, but she simply could not do it. “I hate being with child,” she grumbled, “I wish I could give it to you to carry for a while!”
Gregor threw back his head and laughed. “But I am not designed for childbirth! A pregnant man - some would say I was giving birth to the Devil himself!” He growled at her ferociously, making her giggle and thump him.
“Alexa told me you would say that. What shall we call him? Or her?” She asked. “I have always liked Andrina.”
He smiled. “So, have I. And she will be thrilled,” he replied, “but no boys’ names spring to mind.”
“What about the first ever boy? Or man?” Iona suggested.
“Adam?” Gregor rolled it around his mouth several times to taste it, “Adam Carmichael. I like it.”
“An awful lot of ‘A’s’ though,” Iona said doubtfully.
“I like ‘A’s’,” he replied, kissing her. “Go to sleep, Sweetheart. It won’t be long now.”
It was not. Two days later, first Adam, and then Andrina Carmichael popped into the world together. Gregor almost fainted with shock.
When William heard the news of Craig’s death he did not feel as jubilant as he thought he would. Both of the men who had blighted his life had died, but that would not bring Marianne back. Suddenly he thought of Columba, the priest who had helped him and healed him, then suddenly he was cleansed of hatred. Marianne was in the past, and nothing could change that, but he was no longer looking back at what had been or dreading the future. Columba may have asked God for miracles and received them, but surely forgiveness was the biggest miracle of all.
He climbed up to the highest turret of Beglin Castle and smiled as he looked over the sweeping Highland landscape. As he gazed, the sun peeped out from behind a gray cloud, resuming its slow progress across the sky. It was almost like a sign, and he felt the weight of years of hatred and sadness fall off his shoulders.
"I forgive you, Father and I forgive you too, Baron," William said, " wherever you are, I wish you well. Goodbye."
46
Adoption
Lying in bed that day with Gabriel scrambling all over them and giggling wildly, Graham felt that his life could not be any better. He had his beautiful wife, his son, his castle - what more could a man ask for? Lorraine answered his silent question.
"I want another baby," she said suddenly, turning over in bed to look at him. "A brother or sister for Gabriel."
Graham gazed at her fondly, then she warmed to her theme.
"I want to go and see Mairi at the orphan sanctuary," she went on, "maybe our special child is there."
"Is that really what you want?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair.
Just then they were distracted by Gabriel who decided to stop scrambling and start jumping on the bed. "Want baby!" he screamed. "Want baby!"
Lorraine gave Graham an 'I told you so' look and smiled. He kissed the top of her head. "You're right," he replied, "it is about time our son had someone to play with, and we could all do with another person to love."
"It will not be too long before Iona gives birth," Lorraine mused. "I am so happy for Gregor, but I miss Columba. He was so much a part of our lives."
"I do too, but I think he will be back," Graham answered. "He is a remarkable man. God blessed him with an incredible mind."
"Indeed," she agreed.
"I had better get to work," Graham sighed and reluctantly climbed out of bed. "Let us make sure the next one is a bit quieter, Lorraine. My ears are sore!"
When he had gone out, Lorraine lay thinking for a while, not exactly feeling sorry for herself, but sad, thinking about the children being born all around her - Alexa's, Iona's, Moira's, Mairi's. She was not jealous; she had experienced enough of pregnancy to know that it was not a comfortable state, and anyway, there were more than enough children who needed love. Lorraine had a lot of love to share - she and Graham and were the chief supporters of the children's community, which was called the Nazareth Sanctuary.
When Moira and Alexa heard the news, they were overjoyed. "This is just what you all need," Moira declared. "You were made to be a mother, sweetheart. What does Graham think? and Gabriel?"
&n
bsp; Lorraine laughed, patting her son on the head. "He can't wait!" she replied. "You want another brother or sister, don't you?"
He nodded firmly, his red curls bouncing, a big grin on his face. "Gabriel's biggest!" He announced proudly, holding his arms up.
They laughed, and Alexa tickled him. He ran away, screaming.
"Do you have names?" Moira asked, handing her friend a glass of wine.
"We are waiting to see what he or she looks like," she answered, "and the child may have a name already."
Alexa sat down and looked out of the window, where the lowering sky was just about to unload a downpour on them.
“What does Graham think?” Lorraine asked.
"Graham is happy in his own quiet way," Lorraine replied. Her voice was always gentle when she spoke of her husband.
Alexa sighed. Auguste was away on a trip to Perth and Inverness, and as always, she missed him with every part of herself. Alexa spent much of the time when she was not with her daughter honing her battle skills, which had become rusty during her pregnancy. She had never seriously hurt anyone, but it was good to be prepared, and Shona was developing a 'don't mess with me' attitude which the family found very funny. Everyone said she was going to be just like her mother.
"I am so nervous," Lorraine said nervously as they rode up to the Nazareth sanctuary, "I feel as if we are stealing someone."
Graham sighed. They had gone over this so many times. "Lorraine - we cannot back out now, and in there is a child who need us."
Lorraine nodded. She climbed with some trepidation up to the plateau at the top of what had been the seat of the evilest man around their area three years before. But as she got to the top of the stairs and looked at what was in front of her she gasped in amazement and delight.
There were children everywhere, playing on the grass with home-made toys and swinging from the trees on ropes. In the corner next to one of the barns Mairi was teaching one of the older girls to mend clothes, and a young woman about the same age as Mairi was taking care of some of the smaller toddlers who had just learned to walk. The rest of the babies, Lorraine supposed, were in their cribs asleep.
