by Temple Hogan
Annie stayed close to the castle, minding her geese and her wayward clansmen. Bryce was regaining his strength and once again his hammer rang out from the smithy. People began to relax a bit. Fear of discovery slowly faded.
Finally, even Annie eased her vigil, and although she wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to spend the day in the mountains again, she roamed the meadows, letting the fragrant wind blow away her anxiety. As she wandered, she began to sing, finding solace in her outpouring. One day, as she sat beside a rill, trailing her fingers in the cold stream, a footstep sounded behind her. She ceased singing and turned. Jean MacIntyre stood with a look of wonderment on her face. Her dark hair was unbound, and the wind had whipped color into her cheeks, so she looked pretty and high-spirited.
“Annie, you can sing,” she said breathlessly. She hurried to sink to her knees beside the girl. “Your voice is like an angel from on high.” She paused. “Can you not speak as well, lass?”
Annie shook her head and leaped to her feet, ready to flee across the meadow. Impulsively, Jean caught hold of her hand.
“Nay, Annie, don’t run away. I want to be yer friend.” She paused, waiting and when Annie made no response, she held out the bundle of brightly colored cloth she carried.
“I have these extra gowns. I thought you might like them.”
Startled, Annie looked from her friendly face to the clothes.
“Let’s go try them on,” Jean said eagerly. “I’ll show you how to wear them.”
Annie wanted to say no, to refuse the gowns, but she couldn’t. She felt the smooth satiny finish and saw the intense colors that seemed to spill right into her very soul.
“Come on,” Jean urged and Annie led the way to the hut she shared with Father Cowan. Inside, the MacIntyre noblewoman looked around, taking in the dirt floor and poor plenishing, but her smile never wavered.
“You keep everything clean and neat,” she said magnanimously.
Annie made no answer, too intent in sliding a gown of peacock-blue silk over her head.
“Let me help. Hold your hair out of the way,” Jean offered and hurried to guide the shimmery material into place and fasten the loops of metallic gold braid.
Smoothing the drape of the skirt, she moved back, smiling as Annie, her golden hair clasped high in one hand, turned this way and that.
“Oh, Annie, you’re a bonnie lass,” Jean said in awe. “You fair take my breath away. Wait until Rafe sees you.” She stopped abruptly then continued.
“He’ll think you’re beautiful, as I do,” Jean said firmly.
“You’re the maiden at the pool, aren’t you? The one that Rafe is in love with?” she asked softly.
Annie’s eyes widened for a moment, then she slumped and rounded her shoulders, her head lowered, her hair sweeping across the rounded cheeks, hiding the beauty and intelligence. Jean drew in a breath and crossed to her.
“Don’t pretend, Annie. I know who you are. ‘Tis too late to try and fool me.” Annie moved toward the door and threw it open, gesturing for her visitor to leave.
“Nay, I won’t go until you tell me the truth of it,” Jean said. “I heard you sing today, and I know you can answer me.” She gripped the younger girl’s shoulders. “You’re Rafe’s lady at the pool,” she said with certainty. Her eyes widened. “The night Rafe and the blacksmith fought, a woman cried out. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Her gaze was so direct, so sure that Annie couldn’t deny it. Her cheeks flushed with distress, and the truth was there for any to read. She gazed at Jean, wanting to trust her, wanting to have her as a friend, yet understanding that the safety of others depended on the decision she made at this moment. Jean waited expectantly.
“You must not speak of this to anyone,” Annie whispered, taking hold of her hands.
“Why not?” Jean breathed.
“I can’t explain it to you now, but will you trust me?” Annie asked urgently.
Doubt and suspicion warred in Jean’s expression. “I want to,” she answered. “But Rafe has many enemies and—” She paused, studying Annie. “But somehow I don’t think you’re one of them. I’ll keep your secret, Annie, for now.” The two women looked at each other, forging an unspoken bond that tied them more closely than blood itself.
Long after Jean left, Annie sat before the hearth in her fine gown and thought of all that had transpired. Could she trust the noblewoman? She had little choice. She wouldn’t worry about it so much, except for Bryce’s act of defiance in attacking the border patrol. If Rafe wasn’t suspicious of them now, he surely would be when he learned of her ruse. He would guess that she’d been the spy inside the castle. She must maintain her deception.
Wearily, she rose and removed the elegant gown and drew on her own coarse mantle and with it the hateful disguise that dogged her every waking moment.
Chapter Seven
The days that followed were peaceful enough. Rafe, Gare and Aindreas were preoccupied with insuring the safety of the borders, setting their men to patrol more tightly and in greater number while they, themselves, rode out often to check the outposts. At all times, a heavier patrol guarded the castle. The castle villagers breathed a little easier and went about their tasks, tending the fields and cattle with less concern than they might have.
Annie seldom went to the smithy to converse with Bryce on the state of things. He’d betrayed her trust and that of his clansmen who’d foolishly followed his lead. Now they drew back, blaming him more than themselves for the suspicions that surrounded them. Once or twice, Annie had come upon a group of MacDougall men, huddled with Bryce, whispering and bickering, but when she stood glaring at them, hands on her hips, eyes flaming, they quickly dispersed.
“Dam’ me, Annie. Do you mean to hound me for the rest of my life?” Bryce demanded.
“Until I’m sure I can trust ye again,” she snapped.
“Now would be a good time to strike,” the blacksmith cried in frustration. “The young Campbell and his men are worried about the borders and are often out of the castle. We’ve men enough to take the guards they’ve left behind.”
“And then what would you do, Bryce?” she demanded. “Would you be able to hold the castle against the combined forces of the Campbells and the MacIntyres? And do you think they might guess who’s been attacking them behind their backs and retaliate? Rafe knows it’s you, and he’s given you his warning. Next time, it’ll be a hanging for you and those who follow you. Do you want that for our men?”
He glared at her but made no argument. Instead, he slunk away to his anvil and the industrious ring of his hammer could be heard the rest of the day.
After Rafe and Captain Aindreas set out on their rounds each morning, Jean would wander down through the village to find Annie scattering grain for her geese. The two women would stand visiting, Jean doing all the talking and Annie nodding her head now and then. But later in the day, the two girls would walk into the highlands and sit plaiting fragrant wild flowers into circlets, which they wore on their heads as they sat in the sun and chatted. Here, away from any possible spies from the castle, Annie spoke in a quiet, shy voice, still unsure of her freedom to do so. Many confidences were shared. Annie revealed that only a few people knew she was not mute.
“Why didn’t you let them know the truth?” Jean asked in disbelief. “The life of a goose girl must be very difficult after the comforts of a laird’s daughter.”
“I’m not sure,” Annie hedged. She knew full well why her true identity must be kept hidden, but she couldn’t explain it to Jean, much as she might want to.
“After the old Laird was killed and the Campbells took over, there was purging. Many innocent men and even women and children were killed. We didn’t know who to trust, so we did what we felt we must in order to survive.” She tilted her head so the broad brim of the woven grass hat she’d donned against the sun’s hot rays hid the top half of her face.
“You poor child,” Jean said softly. “I remember my father speaking of some of the
atrocities. He was outraged, but his father, my grandfather, was tied to the Campbells and his allegiance with Robert the Bruce. Still, even my grandfather felt the punishment had been too severe.”
Annie said nothing, although she silently agreed. She didn’t wish to be seen as criticizing the decisions made during that bloody period. Through the years, she’d come to understand that her father had been seen as a traitor to the new king. But that was a different time, and Scottish loyalties ran deep no matter which side they were aligned with. Her father had stood as he felt he must, and if his clan must suffer for it, then so be it. No one seemed to bear him ill will for the misery he’d brought on them by standing for his beliefs. And hope burned in the heart of every MacDougall remaining that one day the clan would rise again; the Campbells would be ousted from MacDougall land and all would be as it once was.
Annie longed to give that to them. She didn’t question whether this desire stemmed from her own long running anger with her father that he’d defied the king, been labeled a traitor and deprived her and their clan of the prosperous, secure life they were entitled to, or that his beliefs seemed to have mattered more to him than a daughter who had loved him beyond reason and longed for him still.
“Annie, I’m grateful you don’t hold a grudge against me for what happened to your clan.”
Annie raised her head, startled. “Nay, Jean.” Impulsively, she gripped her hand. “I treasure your friendship more each day.”
“If only your Laird had reconsidered his position,” the other woman said in a rush. “’Twas said he was most stubborn.”
“Aye, he was stubborn, and naught could sway him from his thinking once his mind was made up.” Her words were spoken with a mixture of pride and sadness that still plagued her.
“Let us speak of something else.” She leaned forward to knock off Annie’s hat and drop a circlet of flowers on her tangled golden hair. “You look like a regal princess.” They laughed, comfortable with each other.
“Are you…” Annie hesitated, fearful to offend Jean with her question.
“Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. We’re friends,” Jean said kindly.
“I but wondered about your feelings for the young captain,” Annie said, looking up from under the circlet of woven flowers.
“He’s the man I intend to have for my husband,” Jean said emphatically. “Although ‘tis taking my father longer to accept that fact than I care for. I’m no longer a maiden and soon will be too old to bear the children I want.”
“You’re not too old,” Annie protested. “I remember Bridey Dougall had children well past her twenty and eight years.”
Jean laughed. “Well, I shall have to go well past that if I’m to have as many sons as I wish.”
“And how many would that be?” Annie asked with some surprise.
“Six sons, at least, and a daughter or two.” Jean cocked her head and gazed at the younger girl. “How many will ye be wanting yourself, Miss Annie of Dunollie?”
“I never gave it a thought,” she replied somberly. “I’ve never thought of marrying until…” She paused, blushing, and ducked her head.
“Until Rafe came along?”
“You must not say anything,” Annie said breathlessly. “You’ve promised.”
“And I’ll not break my promise,” Jean said quickly, putting a hand on the girl’s arm. “Why do you still take this disguise? Why not tell Rafe who you really are?”
Annie was quiet for a long moment, her hand still in her lap “I haven’t told you all the story of how the Campbells attacked Dunollie.”
“There’s more? ‘Tis already a dreadful tale of barbaric proportions.”
Annie looked off across the highlands. “Aye, it was. I saw Archibald behead my father.”
“Oh, my child.” Jean threw her arm around Annie’s shoulders.
“For a long time, I wasn’t able to speak. There was so much death. The Campbells were killing and raping. No one was safe. Father Cowan was our priest, and he tried to save me. When he saw the dead goose girl, who was also a mute and a cripple, he made me assume her identity, and since I could no longer speak, it worked out well. When I got better, he taught me things about the history of our clan and Scotland itself, about the feuds between the MacDougalls and Robert the Bruce, which brought us to this grief and much more. If not for him, I don’t know where I would be now.”
Jean’s normally animated face had grown still and troubled. “Annie, do you know anything about the men who attacked the Campbell patrol a few days ago? Were your kinsmen the ones who fought our soldiers?”
“I know the rumors,” Annie hedged, not wanting to lie to her new friend, but unable to betray her own clansmen. “But rumors are not always true. No orders were given to the men in the village to attack the Campbells.”
Jean smiled. “I’m being foolish. But I couldn’t bear if your clansmen were to attack my Aindreas and try to kill him.”
“Nay, they never would. The MacDougalls have no feud with the MacIntyres. I know you fight with the Campbells, but ‘tis against the greater enemy of Baen and his renegade band.”
“Aye.”
The women gazed at each other, then of mutual accord threw their arms around each other. When they drew away, Annie could see that Jean's eyes were brighter.
“You’re a wily one, Annie MacDougall. I see how you neatly drew me away from talk of Rafe Campbell,” Jean teased.
Annie giggled.
“Tell me truthfully, Annie, have you no feelings for him?”
“Do you see how the sun lights yon hill?” Annie asked mischievously. “I wonder will it rain tonight?”
“Aye, I see you don’t care for the young commander,” Jean said with a serious demeanor. “Therefore, you will not want to hear how Dianne has set her cap for him.”
Annie’s giggles died away, and she grew pensive. “Since I can never hope to win the love of Rafe Campbell, why should I care about the good noblewoman’s machinations?”
“Good noblewoman, pah!” Jean replied. “She is greedy and unkind and without any honor. She strikes the serving girls and strives to always get the best for herself. She tells lies and flirts shamelessly, even with my Aindreas.”
Annie had remained silent during Jean’s listing of Dianne’s faults, but now she grinned. “Ah, now I understand.”
“Nay, Annie, you don’t. ‘Twould be a shame for Dianne to win Rafe. She would make his life miserable. Besides, though she’s shameless in her attempts to win his attention, he ignores her. I don’t think he cares for her himself. Since he’s met this woods fairy, he has no use for other women.”
“How do you know?” Annie asked quietly.
“Because he’s told me of his feelings for her,” Jean stated emphatically.
“What did he say?” she asked too quickly.
“He said she was as beautiful as a moon goddess, and he loved her. Will you not reveal your true self to him and tell him of your own feelings?”
Annie clasped her hands tightly in her lap while her heart leaped with joy. He loved her. She’d never felt such happiness.
“I can’t, Jean…I mean, m’lady.”
“No, please, call me Jean. We’re friends now, and I pray we’ll remain so for the rest of our days.”
Annie couldn’t meet her gaze, she was that filled with happiness. The wind blew fresh and free against her back, the sun warmed her face. She sprang to her feet and danced gaily around the high meadow while a nightingale song, wild and sweet of such unbridled love, filled the air and she echoed its notes with her own. Silently, Jean watched her impromptu dance and listened with a dreamy smile softening her features.
The golden afternoon seemed endless in its happiness, but finally the sun rimmed the edges of the hills with its fiery glow and they gathered their garlands and trudged back to the castle.
“Why do you not wear the gowns I gave you?” Jean asked before they parted and was sorry to see Annie’s happy expression fade.
> “’Tis best I don’t.” She gave a final wave goodbye and hurried down the dirt lane toward her hut. Upon reaching the village, Annie paused and looked back at Jean, sending her a final wave then with hunched shoulders and a limp, she entered the village.
* * * *
“Annie.” Father Cowan ran to meet her, his tall, spare figure looking like a scarecrow in its clumsy movements.
Alyce, the midwife, followed close behind, her face twisted in fear.
“Father, what is it?” Annie cried, giving up her own pose and running to meet him.
His wrinkled old face was devoid of color. “Lass,” he called. “’Tis Bryce and some of the men. They’ve gone off to fight against Rafe and his patrol. You must go after him.” The rest of his words were lost in a fit of coughing.
“Where did they go?” she asked, gripping the old man’s trembling hands, but he was unable to answer, drawing in deep rattling breaths of air. Helplessly, Annie looked at Alyce.
“Tell me what you know,” she ordered.
“’Twas Bryce. He was all crabbit, cursing and bellowing at everyone. No one knew what caused his mood, but it was all a frightful tirelee, then he took to drinkin’ the baurley-bree and his bad temper worsened.” She paused, gulping down sobs and wiping at the tears that rained down her cheeks.
“He clouted the stable boy and shouted at anyone who came near. Finally, he went bellowing around the bailey from one shed to another how he was about to beat the Campbells at their own game. The others tried to shush him, but he wouldn’t be still. Finally, he challenged the other men to go to the Broderick borders to the east where they heard Baen and his scallywags are camped and reluctantly the men agreed to go with him.”
“They promised they’d not go out without my explicit orders,” Annie said in dismay.
“We reminded them of their promise, but they just said they were following Bryce and off they went.” Something about the midwife’s tears seemed false.
Annie studied her expression.
“Go find them, Annie,” Father Cowan said urgently. “Stop them before they do more damage and more lives are lost.”
