Highlander's Fate: A Medieval Scottish Historical Highland Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  "But I have no—"

  "Vestments?" Alexa supplied mischievously. "In the cupboard in the vestry, Father!"

  She led him upstairs to the chapel, where there were rows of gorgeously carved oak pews and a marble altar table with two priedieux in front of it. The mullioned windows were alight with stained glass, which threw a hundred hews of rainbow colors onto the inside of the room. The pews were lined with tasseled silk cushions in rich jewel colors.

  Columba took a deep breath and let it out in sheer wonder.

  "Mistress," he said breathlessly, crossing himself, "I have seen many chapels before but none as beautiful as this!"

  Alexa smiled.

  "I am glad it pleases you," she said warmly. "Now, brother! If I ask the cook to make a meal fit for a priest making only your ingredients, and if you will drink a glass of wine with water in it, will you eat with us?"

  "I will," Columba replied, laughing. "One small indulgence will be forgiven, I think!"

  The Mass was short and simple. Alexa, Lorraine, and Graham had their confessions heard just before it began, and went into the sacrament with cleansed souls. When Columba began to preach, it seemed as if his face was transfused with light.

  They received the Holy Eucharist, and after the last blessing, went down to eat. It was their last full meal before the season of Advent, the fasting and penitential season before Christmas. The only person excused from this was Moira, who needed the extra fuel for her baby.

  "Where is Mairi?" Columba asked as they sat down.

  "She prefers to eat with her family," Moira replied.

  "Aye," Columba mused aloud, "I can understand that."

  Lorraine clapped her hands and changed the mood at once.

  "Tell us about the family who all wanted to be dipped in the ocean to be baptized, brother!"

  "Oh, my!" Columba put his hands over his face. "I have never seen such a fetching shade of blue in my life! It was a wonder none of them died. There were five children – the screaming! Poor wee things. The youngest was only six months old."

  "And were they absolutely insistent?" Iain asked. "You could not change their minds?"

  "Oh, no." Columba shook his head gravely. "They were sure, the McClures. I have never before met such sure McClures."

  "Father!" Moira yelled with laughter, clutching her stomach. "You should have been a jester!"

  "But why didn't you just refuse, father?" Iain asked, puzzled. He himself carried all the authority of his position, was not afraid of anyone, and could not imagine fear in anyone else.

  "Because God himself would not refuse the Archbishop of Skye!" Columba said, cowering in an exaggerated fashion. "I was a very junior priest, and I had no chance at all! Even you, my Laird, would have second thoughts about this man. He could quote you to death with his Bible!"

  "And your boat journey?" Lorraine laughed heartily. "Listen to this, Iain. It's hilarious!

  "I am not a good sailor," Columba stated firmly. "I do not have what is commonly called 'sea legs', so I knelt instead, and prayed, and prayed, and prayed. My rosary beads were worn-out with the attention of my fingers, but either God was not listening that day, chose to ignore me, or was too busy performing other miracles.

  "Anyway, as soon as I stood up, I had to head straight for the rail of the ship. My breakfast, lunch, and tea came up.

  "There were things in there I don't remember eating! I was sure that my liver and lungs were about to join them. The sailors were used to passengers puking over the side, but this was remarkable even for them!" He paused and sighed happily. "But I got a new nickname out of it."

  "Tell us!" they chorused.

  "The Puking Priest!" Columba burst out laughing, and so did everyone else.

  Columba had eaten some fried fish and seaweed with turnips and cabbage and drunk a small glass of well watered-down red wine. It was a frugal meal, but even so, everyone subconsciously sat back from him as if he were contaminated while the giggles and guffaws died down.

  "Don't worry, my friends," he consoled them. "We are all safe unless the floor is shaking!" Columba yawned. "And now, if you will excuse me, I must retire. Goodnight, and thank you for your hospitality."

  They stood up to let him out.

  "Will you come and eat with us tomorrow, Father?" Alexa asked. "You have a wonderful sense of humor."

  "Tomorrow I will eat with Mairi 's family," he replied kindly. "And now I must go and meet them."

  He called a courteous goodbye to everyone.

  "What a wonderful man!" Moira said with rapture. "Anyone who can laugh at himself that way has a real gift!"

  Alexa looked at his retreating figure. Now there, she thought, is the kind of man I should like to marry.

  Columba went into the servants' hall where he saw Mairi straight away.

  She stood up and smiled at him.

  "Father Columba!" She indicated to the rest of the company of servants who were sitting eating a supper of pottage and ale.

  "This is the faither I wis tellin' ye aboot," she said with excitement. "D'ye still hae room tae eat, Faither?"

  "I will have a cup of milk," he replied courteously, smiling.

  "Now, tell me your names," he then ordered.

  There were thirteen people around the table.

  "Ye willnae remember them, Faither." Mairi laughed.

  Columba shrugged carelessly.

  "Tell me anyway." He looked at each face in turn as each told him his or her name, then he closed his eyes and smiled, then opened them again.

  After that, he swiftly gave each face its own name while they gaped at him open-mouthed.

  Columba had a photographic memory.

  "Ah!" said one of the laborers, Peter Urquhart. "But will ye be able tae dae it in the mornin’?"

  "Shall we see?" Columba smiled at him mischievously.

  "Will ye take a bet?" The man laughed.

  "With what?" Columba laughed. "You know priests own nothing."

  "Yer immortal soul?"

  At once, Columba's face clouded over.

  "Do not say anything like that to me again," he hissed out, pushing his face close up to Peter's. "My soul belongs to God Almighty, and He will not be mocked!"

  He stared into the laborer's brown eyes for a moment, then turned and stalked out.

  Mairi followed him, then grabbed his arm to stop him from running back to the castle.

  "Faither!" She shook her head. "Whit is wrang?"

  "He is wrong!" Columba pointed at Peter as he went into the servants' hall again.

  It was freezing in the still-dark night, and Mairi led Columba to the room she shared with her siblings, all of them already asleep.

  "I am sorry about that," he whispered.

  Mairi shook her head.

  "He asked for it," she said blithely. "Big mouth!"

  Columba grinned.

  "I want to meet the family of your friend Davie," he said softly.

  "Fer why?" She was mystified.

  "Because I believe that there can be something between you – something to unite your two families and ease hostilities between you."

  She stared at him mutely for a moment.

  "Tomorrow is Sunday, which means less work for everyone," he stated. "I will say Mass then we can ride over there with your brothers and speak to the Elliotts. I am sure that they are good people."

  Mairi nodded, although doubtful.

  "I hope ye are right, Faither." Then she smiled. "Let me show ye tae yer accommodation. "

  Neither of the gardeners had yet come in, so Columba said his prayers and went to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

  Later in the night, he felt the touch of a warm body against his back and the sound of snoring in his ears. They were homely experiences, like the ones he had left behind at the monastery, and he went straight back to sleep, smiling.

  In the morning, he said Mass, then went into the servants' hall for his breakfast porridge and milk.

  Peter Urquhart wa
s already there. He put out a hand to Columba.

  "I beg yer forgiveness, Faither."

  "As I do yours." Columba smiled, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sometimes I am too quick to take offense."

  "And I am too quick to give it!" Peter laughed, and they were friends again.

  "Brither, can ye remember oor names this day?" one of the kitchen maids asked.

  "Indeed I can," Columba replied, "Sarah Watson."

  Then he went around the whole table reminding everyone what they were called even though they were sitting in different positions.

  "Whit aboot the dogs?" Colin Fergus spoke up. "An' the horses?"

  "Not now!" Columba laughed. "I have errands to do."

  "But brither," Aidan Wallace spoke up. "It's the Sabbath. Is it no' a day o' rest?"

  "Not for priests, Aidan," he replied, smiling. "Souls still need to be saved on a Sunday!"

  30

  Negotiations and Prayers

  Mairi and Columba rode in front of Dougall and Donald on the way to the Elliotts. Neither was a good rider, and a guard was never a bad idea, especially as memories of the Sutherlands still lingered.

  As they drew near, the two Elliott sons and Jack came out to meet them, each holding a stout wooden spade.

  When Davie saw Mairi dismount from the horse, he ran over to her with a joyous shout and threw his arms around her before kissing her, careless of who saw them.

  Mairi submitted willingly, then they both laughed. Leana had come outside, and Mairi looked around to see the whole family looking at them in astonishment. Dougall and Donald looked as though they wished the earth would open up and swallow them.

  "Good morning, Mr. and Mistress Elliott," Columba said civilly. "I will understand if you send us away – since I have brought no fewer than three Sutherlands with me – but I assure you our intentions are honorable and nobody is armed."

  Jack looked at his wife, who nodded.

  "Come in," Leana said, stepping aside and crossing herself.

  There was silence for a few minutes while Columba gathered his thoughts.

  "I believe it is you we have to thank for ridding this place of the head of the Sutherlands," he said.

  "Aye – we helped." Leana agreed. "An' they hanged. God is good."

  Columba smiled.

  "He is indeed." He sighed. "But I want to talk to you about the rest of his family – and yours. The Sutherland family was not a complete nest of adders. There was Donella, who died of her abuse, Mairi, Donald, Douglas, Rose Ella and little Sam. So you see, there were two Sutherland families, both the good and the evil.

  "When they examined Hector's body after the hanging, they found his hands covered in scars and scratches which he had done himself. He hated himself."

  "Aye, an' so did everybody else!" Mairi said viciously.

  There was a deep well of anger still there too, it seemed.

  "Only love can cure hate, Mairi," Columba said gently. "And only peace can cure anger."

  There was silence for a moment as everyone calmed down.

  Columba smiled his gentle smile.

  "We can have peace here while we talk about such a hateful thing, you see? Mairi, you are still angry, and it is likely you will be for a long time.

  "But the past is the past, and not one second of wishing will bring it back, so you are safe from it, and you too, Donald and Dougall. I am not speaking only from a place of peace and sanctity here either – I too have seen my horrors, and they haunt my dreams. I lie alone, but mayhap if you wake in the night with loving arms around you, Mairi, the burden will be halved. The love between a man and woman is as sacred as Holy Orders." He looked at Davie expectantly.

  Davie and Mairi looked at each other, then Davie smiled.

  "Will you, Mairi?" he asked softly.

  "Aye, Davie." Her face was radiant as she lifted it for his kiss. "But ye must pardon me if I find mysel’ tempted tae the odd fit o' temper!"

  There was a loud guffaw of laughter.

  "I forgive ye already, lass!" He kissed her hair and smiled at her with great tenderness.

  Leana and Jack looked more reassured, but they were still not completely happy.

  "Will we wait a month or two?" Davie suggested.

  "Aye – we can dae that," Mairi agreed.

  They agreed to a betrothal ceremony a fortnight later and a wedding the following month. Because of Mairi 's special status, she would be allowed as many visits from Davie as she liked, so everyone was happy.

  Alexa was over the moon. Nothing could have made her happier than seeing sad, downtrodden Mairi, born from the worst family in the area, settling down with one of the best. Davie, with his solid, calm nature, would be the balm she needed for her wounds to heal. The love between the two other married couples was a fine example to Mairi too.

  Alexa rejoiced for them. Now she would be in the firing line!

  She could just hear it all now…

  'Get married, Alexa! Have babies, Alexa! Do your duty!'

  So, she concentrated on getting Mairi married and decided to worry about her own prospects later.

  Meanwhile, she consoled herself with visits from the phantom Frenchman. The best thing about him was that she did not have to marry him. She could make him go away any time she liked!

  * * *

  There was a radiance about Mairi now, a glow of happiness that had not been there before, and a gentleness too.

  "This is the Mairi that should have been," Moira observed, smiling as she watched her cuddling little Sam on her lap. "This is the Mairi that is going to wed Davie and tenderly bring up babies of her own."

  "Yes." Alexa sighed. "But she is very young."

  Moira looked at Alexa keenly.

  "And you?"

  Alexa looked at the expectant expression on her sister's face.

  "What about me?" she asked, knowing the answer but pretending not to.

  "When are you going to be married?"

  "In my own good time, Sister," she replied firmly. "If at all. And who is going to marry me anyway?"

  "Gregor?" Moira suggested, with caution.

  "Pfft!" Alexa's scornful explosion of derision nearly blew the sampler Moira was sewing out of her hands. "Nice boy, Moira, but not for me!"

  "You used to like him."

  Alexa gave another long-suffering sigh.

  "I think marriage is a wonderful institution," she observed, "for most people, but not for me." She wriggled restlessly in her chair and pointed to Moira's swollen abdomen. "Do you think the world could stand another Alexa Montgomery?"

  Moira smiled fondly.

  "Not easily," she conceded, "but it could be done! You wait—" She wagged a finger at her sister. "One day a tall, dark, handsome stranger will come along and sweep you off your feet!"

  "Too late!" Alexa took a sip of her wine with a faraway look in her eyes. "Lachlan McGregor already swept the most beautiful woman in the Highlands off hers!"

  "He's not dark; he has chestnut hair!"

  Alexa gave her sister a playful cuff.

  "He's dark enough for me!" She laughed.

  Moira shook her head, smiling. Life was never dull with Alexa around!

  Columba and Gregor never stopped talking, and it seemed that Columba's prodigious memory was a library of Biblical and liturgical teaching. He seemed to have remembered anything anyone ever told him, and even the color of people's clothing – even if he had not seen them for a week. It was unnerving, but Gregor found it fascinating.

  The Sutherlands and the rest of the children at the castle would sit at his feet for hours just listening to his stories. He had Biblical ones, of course, but also stories about monsters and fairies which he made up on the spot for their amusement.

  He had been asked to stay to officiate at Mairi's and Davie's wedding, so he did, but he still ate frugally and slept with the workers. They too loved him, although as he reminded them often enough, he was not a saint – being inclined to bouts of peevishness some
times, especially when he was tired.

  One day he was sitting with Gregor after lunch when Gregor asked him a question that always came up sooner or later.

  "Father Columba," he said carefully, "you love children, and I think, ladies too!"

  Columba laughed.

  "Indeed, I do! They are God's special creation – guardians of life."

  "Then why did you never marry?" Gregor's frown was puzzled.

  Columba shrugged and drained his milk cup.

  "Because we are all given gifts. And this—" He tapped his head. "—is mine. Yes, I could have wed and had bairns of my own, but I do not think it is the path I was destined to walk. I want to serve God in Rome, the Holy Land, and wherever else He sends me."

  Gregor thought about that for a moment, then he stood up and patted the monk on the shoulder.

  "I had better get home," He said regretfully, looking outside. "Sometimes I wish God would not bless Scotland with quite so much rain!"

  Columba laughed and followed him.

  "But look at this land!" He stretched out his arm and swept it around in a wide arc. "Is it not beautiful?"

  Gregor looked at the wide hillsides and the gorse plants adorning them with bright yellow stripes.

  At this time of year, the heather was brown, but in summer it would stain the hills bright purple till winter came, and all year round there were a hundred shades of green.

  Down in the valley, the wind had whipped up white horses on the crests of the gray loch water, where tall fir trees stood sentinel against the scourging winds. It was a harsh, fierce land but it was his own, and now suddenly Gregor realized that he was thinking of leaving it.

  But, of course, he had not just begun to think of it – it had been slowly growing in his mind since he met Columba.

  Gregor turned hastily and shook the monk's hand, then ran into the courtyard without another word. He felt very strange, as though he had drunk too much wine, but it was not a bad feeling. It was not bad at all.

  31

  Young Men's Concerns

  Alexa had taught Dougall and Donald everything she knew about archery, swordsmanship and the ability to use a knife and a slingshot. They were expert riders too, and now owned two of the biggest war horses in the whole of the Highlands, and the finest armor which Alexa had commissioned from the most skillful armorer in Edinburgh. Iain had reluctantly made a special excursion to the Highlands to make it, but he was not at all loath to do it once he saw the lovely Alexa.