Kristin Vayden

by Surviving Scotland

  “Aye, lass, this is yer room. What do ye remember last?”

  The woman’s warm hand grasped my own as I searched my memory. Faces and broken shards of memories flashed through my mind with confusing speed. When I tried to remember anything, my mind was blank, utterly and completely blank.

  “Ach, lass, donna you worry. Sometimes that happens with a fever.”

  “Fever?”

  “Aye, ye were terribly ill. Sometimes, when the fever rages, a body can forget things. ‘Tis possible, then, ye will remember it later. Donna fret. All will be well.”

  I didn’t understand. Oh, it made sense that I had been sick. My body testified to that truth readily, but memory loss? Something still wasn’t right. But before I could summon the strength to ask, darkness consumed me.

  ****

  The meadow was warm against my skin and I daydreamed, watching the fluffy clouds pass by. A man stood over me and called my name, caressing it with his voice. I smiled, but he didn’t return the gesture, rather his expression was concerned and worried. I blinked and the meadow faded away and was replaced by my room, but the man remained.

  “Elle? Are ye awake?”

  I blinked again, trying to determine if I were dreaming or awake. The man was familiar and I had a flash of memory where he spoke to me in a meadow but I wasn’t sure if it was real or a dream I had experienced.

  “Elle?” He touched my cheek with care and began caressing it with his thumb. I closed my eyes and leaned against his hand, savoring the tingling sensation.

  “I tho’ we were ta lose ye, lass. Tell me, do ye ken who I am?”

  I opened my eyes and studied him. His shirt was open at the collar just enough to give me a small view of his chest, and I had a mental image of him only half-dressed. In that moment I remembered his name. A few scattered memories flooded back as well but all in a mixed jumble.

  “Ioan?”

  “Aye, lass, ‘tis Ioan. ‘Tis Ioan.” His tone was reverent and laced with relief. He grasped my hand, and his green eyes were tender as he gazed at me.

  The woman who had been nursing me walked into the room with muted footsteps. She offered me a secretive grin before sobering and regarding Ioan.

  “I told ye she was on the mend. Had ta see fer yerself, eh?” she scolded playfully.

  Ioan’s face flushed, and I was curious as to why he was embarrassed. He recovered so quickly I wondered if the blush was imagined.

  “I see she’s been in good hands.”

  “Aye, ‘tis true. Now, lass, can ye sit up fer me?”

  I tried to lift myself, but Ioan reached down and pulled me upright with a gentle yet firm grasp on my shoulder.

  “Thank you.” The words were mumbled as the movement created dizziness in my vision.

  “Easy now,” the woman whispered as she sat on the bed next to me, nudging Ioan further away. “Can ye drink this?”

  She handed me a mug of what looked like tea. I drank it happily only to choke on the bitter taste.

  “Sorry, lass. ‘Tis the herbs, but ‘twill give yer body some help in healin’.”

  I nodded and forced myself to drink it all. Ioan and the woman watched me carefully ‘til I handed the cup back.

  “I feel terribly rude. You’ve taken such good care of me, and I don’t know your name.”

  Ioan’s expression fell into disbelief, but the woman gave me a caring pat on my hand that was accentuated by her tender gaze.

  “I feared this, aye, I did. The fever was high.” She nodded, continuing to pat my hand. “I’m Morag. Ye’ve known me since ye were a wee lassie.”

  “What do you mean I’ve known you… wait… I’ve lost my memory? But I remember him—” I paused, searching my mind. I remembered his name, but nothing else, just a few scattered impressions. Ioan’s gaze cut to me, his green eyes regarding my expression.

  “Aye, ‘tis true, but donna worry, ye’ll remember soon enough. ‘Til then we’ll help ye along. I tried ta ask ye earlier, but ye fell into that deep sleep. What is the last thing ye remember?”

  I remembered her question, remembered vivid dreams of horses and being unable to breathe.

  “I couldn’t breathe,” I whispered to myself. Ioan coughed and I glanced at him.

  “Elle, we had ta hold ye down. The fever made ye see things that weren’t true. Ye fought mightily, ye did. We finally held ye fast, but by then ye had worked yerself up inta such a lather that I was worried yer heart would burst. I’m sorry if I was too hard on ye. I dinna want ye ta hurt yerself.”

  Ioan’s tone was apologetic, but was edged with fear. He shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. A muscle in his jaw twinged as he clenched and unclenched his teeth and flexed his hands back and forth.

  “I understand.” I almost died.

  “All’s well now, lassie. Do ye remember anything afore that?”

  I closed my eyes to concentrate. A vision of Ioan standing without his shirt flashed through my mind but quickly disappeared, leaving me to wonder if I had dreamed that as well. The feeling of being on the brink of remembering assaulted me, and I waited for everything to find its place in my mind. But it didn’t happen.

  “I don’t know. I remember flashes and images of things that could have taken place, but I don’t know if they are real or a dream I had when my fever raged.”

  Defeated, I slumped back onto the bed.

  “Ye will remember lass, ye will.” Ioan nodded but I wasn’t as positive. I stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out my next step. If I were to be lost in my own mind, then I might as well begin asking questions.

  “Where am I?”

  Ye’re in Bann Keep. A part o’ Carnasserie Castle. Ye’ve lived yer whole life here.” Ioan spoke carefully, but there was a fear that lurked in his green eyes.

  “Your accent… It’s Scottish, is it not?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why don’t I speak like you if I’ve lived here my whole life?”

  Ioan and Morag traded glances. Surely I wasn’t the only one who noticed how my voice didn’t follow their brogue?

  “I donna ken lass… perhaps from the fever as well?” Morag answered after a moment.

  I nodded, unsure and still confused. I breathed deeply, sorting through this new information.

  “What of my family?”

  Morag’s glance fell to the floor and Ioan stiffened beside her. More bad news.

  “Ye are in the care o’ yer Uncle Maol, laird of the castle and Clan Campbell. Yer parents have both been gone for some time.

  My eyes filled with tears for a family I didn’t remember but mourned the loss of anyway. A moment passed in silence before I drew together my strength to ask a few more questions. My eyes flicked to Ioan; just who was he?

  “And how do I know you?” As Ioan’s eyes widened, I hastened to explain. “I remember your name, and you are familiar, yet anything beyond that is jumbled, I’m afraid.”

  Ioan glanced to Morag before answering.

  “Ioan is a foster from a nearby Campbell clan. He’s been with ye for most o’ yer life.” Morag said.

  “I was, “he paused and cleared his throat, “injured in battle, and me regiment sent me here to assist yer uncle.” He hesitated before continuing. “On me way ta the castle, I found ye in the Kilmartin Glen. Ye were hidin’, likely ‘cause ye heard the horses. The Jacobites have been pressurin’ yer uncle ta allow them to set up a garrison. But he’s a loyal Covenanter. That’s likely why ye hid. Ye tho’ we were after ye. When I saw ye, ye didn’t recognize me. But we didn’t have time ta talk much because we were ambushed by a band o’ Jacobites. Ye ran away, but I caught up with ye and brought ye here, but afore we reached the castle, it rained. I tried ta keep ye warm, but I failed. Forgive me, Elle? ‘Twas because o’ me that ye were taken ill.”

  His brogue was broken with emotion. His moss green eyes were tormented. After searching my gaze for a moment, he closed his eyes, clenching his jaw with a self-recriminating expression. When he glanced back at
me, I nodded. Yet I didn’t see how it was his fault. Since I was already in the glen, I would have gotten wet had he been there or not. In truth, he saved me.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Ioan. Thar’s nothing to forgive,” I spoke gently, holding his gaze.

  Ioan nodded at me and then exchanged a glance with Morag. The expressions they wore told me I was missing something. Curiousity burned in my chest, but I kept silent.

  “I’ll leave ye be now, lass. I’m thankful ye are soon ta be well.” Ioan nodded and strode from the room with graceful steps. The plaid he wore accented his broad back, and his dark hair was tied behind his head with a strap of leather.

  “Some things never change,” Morag whispered.

  I glanced at her and blushed, seeing that she was watching my intense study of Ioan’s backside.

  “Enough talkin’ fer now. I’ll be bringin’ ye up some broth in a bit. ‘Til then sleep, lass. Sleep.”

  With only the rustling of her homespun dress moving as she rose, she walked out the door, leaving me with my scattered and lost thoughts.

  Chapter Three

  A man walked in with purpose-filled strides, interrupting Morag and my conversation over the broth she had brought. He was dressed much like Ioan had been earlier. I carefully averted my eyes from his bare knees and waited for him to speak.

  “Niece, I’m thankful ye’re mendin’, but ye need ta ken that I’ll no longer tolerate yer runnin’ off. Ye are my only kin an’ I plan on keepin’ ye alive! No more, understand?”

  Apparently, this was my uncle. I studied him for a moment. His eyes were weary and dark, and the creases around his face were deep and added a shadowed effect to his otherwise bearded face. He was shorter than Ioan and much stouter.

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  His eyes narrowed after I spoke.

  “What’s the meanin’ o’ this? Now ye’re English, eh? Oh for the love o’ the…” He paused and glanced to Morag, letting his words trail off unfinished.

  Her withering glare gave me a shiver. I glanced back to my uncle and nodded once.

  “Forgive me, I’ll do my best to amend my speech.”

  My uncle gave me a disbelieving glance, but nodded his approval. He waited by the door, switching his weight from one foot to another. After a moment he came closer to my bed.

  “Lass, I love ye, ‘tis true. Ye near gave me a death fright. Donna do that again ta me.” His brown eyes were tender as his rough hand covered mine. With a heavy sigh he glanced up as if in prayer, then focused once more on my face.

  “Aye,” I answered, the brogue coming surprisingly easy.

  My uncle’s face broke into an indulgent grin and he patted my head with his large hand before leaving, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Ye’ll get used ta him. His yell is worse than anythin’ else. He loves ye lass, but ye do love ta escape beyond the walls o’ the keep. Careful no’ ta promise that which ye canna keep.” Morag kept her eyes on the broth as she stirred it.

  The silence was broken by the cracking and popping of the fire as I thought over her words.

  “I’ll leave ye ta this then.” With a pat on my blanketed knee, she left.

  ****

  The days passed quickly, and soon I was allowed to leave my room. My strength returned with each day, but I knew it would take a while longer before I was fully healed. Morag was a diligent and careful nurse, but I wouldn’t miss the bitter teas and the salted broths she forced me to drink.

  As I walked down the stairs I held the wall for support, not quite trusting my legs after being in bed for so long. The stone wall was cold against my hand, and my fingers bumped against the interlocking stones as I descended. At the bottom I heard laughter, yelling, and a clash of metal. Curious, I walked to a large, wooden-planked door and opened it slightly.

  The sun was bright and I winced as it momentarily blinded me. After my eyes adjusted, I saw the reason for the noise. Two men with leather armor were fighting in the center of the courtyard. With agile movements they thrust and parried, trying to defeat their opponent. A circle of men and a few women gathered at the edge and cheered them on. The men would occasionally laugh at each other during their fight, telling me it was all in good fun or practice. No one looked familiar, but I hadn’t really expected them to; only hoped.

  The fight ended when a man pressed the tip of his sword into the other man’s chest and backed away immediately. He threw his hands into the air and the crowd clapped. The defeated man shook his head and then went forward to congratulate the victor.

  The crowd dispersed and I closed the door, heading down the hall toward the smell of baking bread.

  The castle had very small windows that only let in a slight amount of light, so my eyes took a moment to adjust. The hallway was short and ended in what looked like a dining room. Large wooden tables were scattered and benches surrounded them. A hearth boasted a fire in the middle of the wall, and a few women were sweeping the floor.

  I waited for the women to finish their work, and then entered. My hands brushed the tops of the rough-hewn tables made smooth by years of use. The fire crackled and popped, and I heard the clanging of kettles and muted voices from the kitchen. I took a fortifying breath and entered. The bustling activity was unaffected by my entrance, but one woman stirring an open kettle over a fire glanced up upon my arrival. With a grin, she beckoned me to come forward.

  “Ach, ye are up an’ about? ‘Tis good ta see ye, lass. Gave us all quite a scare!”

  At her words a few others glanced up from their work and gave me welcoming smiles.

  “‘Tis good to be up an’ about.” I said.

  “I would think so. Ye never were one ta sit abed for any reason. The walls must have been a closin’ in on ye.”

  I nodded. She spoke the truth.

  “The laird spoke about ye sufferin’ from lack o’ memories, with the fever an’ all. Must be frightenin’. Donna worry though. We’ll take good care o’ ye. I’m Madge. An’ over there is Arig an’ Annabelle. Ye’ve known us for a long while.”

  Everyone kept saying that, as if I didn’t already know. It was frustrating! Everyone knew who I was, but I hadn’t a clue about myself. I suppressed the urge to groan at her words but offered her a polite smile instead.

  “I thank ye.” At least my brogue was becoming second nature, yet my thoughts were accented differently in my head. Just another mystery.

  “Are ye hungry, lass?” Madge asked me with a caring smile. I nodded and she grinned wider. The spoon she was holding dipped further into the pot, and she pulled up a mixture of meat and vegetables and poured it into a cup.

  “Now, donna ye go an’ tell on us, that we gave ye a taste. We’ll have a line from here ta the gate, if ye do so. “ She shook her spoon at me. “That’s a good lass. Now go over ta Arig an’ get a bannock.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “‘Tis nothin’ a’ tall.”

  Madge went back to stirring her pot and adding some crushed herbs to it. I turned to where Arig waited with a piece of dark bread. I spoke my thanks and went out to sit at a table.

  “Ye forgot yer cutty,” Madge spoke and handed me a rough looking spoon. Before I could thank her, she was back in the kitchen.

  After I finished I was once again fighting to stay awake. I could hardly wait ‘til

  I had all of my strength back. With reluctant steps I went to my room and took a nap.

  ****

  Bored. The past few days had been nothing but boring. My uncle had conspired with Morag, and neither would allow me to wander farther than the kitchens. I was getting beyond restless and the walls of my room were closing in on me. After Morag checked on me again, I waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear. I cracked the door open and glanced down the hallway. Everything was silent so I stepped out.

  The floor creaked under my foot and the sound seemed to echo. I winced, waiting to be caught sneaking around. I didn’t want to lie and say I was heading to the kitchens, but I was
desperate enough to do it. I waited for a few more moments before I began down the hall. The stairway to the kitchen was on one end, but another stairway was at the other end. I choose that one to begin my exploration of the castle. The stairs were worn smooth by years of use and the dark, damp air caused my skin to rise in gooseflesh.

  The end of the stairway was much brighter and ended at another hallway with rows of small windows and a few doors. Though I was curious as to where they led, with my luck, I’d simply get caught. The only choice I had was to go outside through the large wooden door at the end. The cold metal handle pressed into my flesh as I pushed. The door groaned but opened, spilling in sunshine. The air was chilly, but not overly so, and I took my first few steps into freedom. A few people milled about, but no one noticed me. I shrugged my plaid around my shoulders for additional warmth and walked toward the gate. A few men loitered about but weren’t paying close attention, so I was able to get through unnoticed.

  Hills of green trees and grass stretched far beyond. To my right stood an archway with a stone fence beside it. Curious, I walked over to it and ran my fingers across the smooth stones, wondering how old it was.

  “I tho’ yer uncle said ye weren’t ta wander about?” Ioan’s voice startled me and I spun around. He spoke with an arrogant twist to his lips, as he raised an eyebrow then grinned. Though he smiled, his tone was the same one he would use for a small child. Offended at his superior attitude, I glared back.

  “Don’t ye have somethin’ better to be doin’ than ta sneak around followin’ people?” I asked.

  “Nay.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned my back on him, walking away.

  “Ye ken I’ll just follow ye.”

  I ignored him. There was no way I was going back to the keep just to be forced back to bed. I was almost completely recovered, and there was no reason for them to continue treating me like an invalid.

  “I knew ye had ta be feelin’ like a bird in a cage. I’ll take ye somewhere… if ye want.” Ioan’s voice was clear as it echoed against the stone wall.