Highland Courage

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Thank ye, Elspet.” Mairead couldn’t help feeling a bit dejected.

  “Is something wrong, my lady?”

  “Nay, not really. I just feel I have gotten off to a very bad start where Oren is concerned, and I am sorry for that.” Sighing resignedly, she asked, “Am I needed for anything down here?”

  “Nay, my lady.”

  “Then I will be in my solar reviewing the books should ye need me.”

  “Aye, my lady, I will send for ye when the midday meal is ready to be served.”

  Mairead spent the rest of the morning reviewing the accounts. Oren kept excellent books. She did an initial overview to learn how he chose to record things. After this she went more in depth into areas in which mistakes were commonly made. She found everything in perfect order. Mairead was very impressed and would tell him so.

  “Give praise in public,” her mother always said. This was hard for Mairead to do, but she vowed she would. When she arrived downstairs for the midday meal, she was glad to see Oren at the laird’s table, however, he looked very irritable.

  As soon as everyone began eating, Mairead took a deep breath. She may as well tackle this now. “Oren, thank ye for delivering the account books to my solar.”

  Oren nodded curtly. “I am happy to oblige,” he said, although he didn’t sound happy at all.

  “I am finished reviewing them and I must say they are in exceptionally good order.”

  He swallowed what was in his mouth and looked a little surprised. “Thank ye, my lady.”

  “I’m sure ye know people can choose to keep records in a variety of ways. Frankly, I expected it would take me most of the morning to figure out your system. However, it only took a few minutes, and it was so easy to find all the details I looked for.”

  “That’s kind of ye to say, Lady Matheson.” Oren was beginning to look marginally less grumpy.

  “Aye, in fact, the next time my mother visits, I would very much appreciate it if ye would show her your system. My father’s steward might find it helpful to use.”

  “Certainly, my lady, I would be happy to.” He sounded more sincerely happy this time. Then he turned to Tadhg. “Laird Matheson, it isn’t every wife who is as good with figures as yours is.”

  Tadhg arched an eyebrow. Mairead wasn’t sure if he was confused or amused. “I suppose ye are right in that.” He glanced at Mairead, who blushed and looked down.

  Mairead ate her meal quietly, listening to the conversations around her. She had hoped to chat a little with Flan. With all of the uproar yesterday, she hadn’t spoken with him since their family left. However, she was surprised to see Flan was not sitting at the laird’s table today. He sat at one of the trestle tables but seemed to be by himself. Furthermore, he didn’t make eye contact with her.

  After the meal, Flan left the hall with the men, again without saying anything to her. Mairead decided she would try to talk with him at supper, or afterward if need be.

  Determined to be involved, Mairead thought she would help with changing of the rushes, and she found Elspet.

  “Oh, nay, my lady, ye can’t be changing the rushes. It is dirty work and I’m sure the laird wouldn’t approve.”

  “Elspet, ye have told me I can’t do any sewing or mending, and I can’t do any dirty work, but I can’t sit in my solar alone all day. Please.”

  Elspet thought about it but shook her head. “My lady, I really don’t think the laird would approve of ye changing rushes. However, there are three elderly people living in the village who I like to check on a few times a week, just to make sure they are getting along well. None of them has any family left, and everyone keeps a bit of an eye on them. I am certain they would like a visit from the laird’s new bride.”

  “Elspet, ye know I am not the most outgoing of people. Frankly, it would be easier for me to change rushes, but ye are right, I should pay some visits.”

  “It will be fine, my lady. Go ask Ide if she has anything baked for ye to take to Eilis, Dolan, and Jock, and I will find a guardsman to escort ye.”

  “A guardsman?” asked Mairead tentatively. Inwardly Mairead cursed herself for a coward as the fear she always experienced with strangers rose in her like bile. Maybe she shouldn’t make these visits today.

  Mairead’s disquiet must have been clearly written on her face. “My lady, is there something wrong?”

  I have to get past this. “Nay, Elspet, everything is fine. I will go see Ide while ye arrange an escort.”

  When Mairead told Ide what she needed, the cook seemed to thaw a bit more toward her. She prepared three generous packages of victuals wrapped separately in linen towels and put them in a large basket.

  “Now the one on the top is for Dolan. Ye should go there first. He probably won’t talk to ye so ye won’t be there long. He loves fish and there was some left from the midday meal so I put it in there with a fresh loaf of bread and some current preserves.”

  “The next one is for Eilis. She is the sweetest woman ye will ever meet. She will chat with ye a nice bit, but she does get tired, so ye will want to see her set for a wee nap before ye leave. I put in one of the pheasant pies from yesterday, a crock of stewed apples, and a fresh loaf for her, too. Did ye see how I made the tisane this morning?”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “Well, I’ve put a packet of the herbs and a small crock of honey in as well. She would like it if ye make her a cup while ye chat.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “The package in the bottom is for Jock. Ye will want to see him last, or ye will never get to the others. Jock will talk ye cross-eyed. I have put in a crock of the rabbit stew we will have for supper. His teeth are not the best, and the rabbit is nice and tender. There is a loaf for him, and I have pulled out a crock of raspberry preserves. I usually save it for special occasions because we don’t have much of it, but it is his favorite. There is also a small jug of ale for each of them. There now, the basket is too heavy for ye to carry all the way to the village, so have your guard carry it for ye.”

  “Aye, I will, Ide.” Mairead was amused by the way she fussed.

  Ten

  Mairead was barely out of the kitchen when, instead of Elspet, Tadhg met her accompanied by a guardsman. “Let me take that for ye, Mairead.” Tadhg lifted the basket from her arm. “Elspet tells me ye are going to visit some of the elders this afternoon.” He seemed very pleased by this.

  He wanted her to do this, and she wanted to please him. “Aye, Elspet thought it would be a good idea.” She eyed the guardsman hesitantly.

  “I know they will be delighted. Jock was the only one of the three who was able to come up to the keep for the wedding.”

  Mairead leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m a little nervous.”

  He smiled broadly at her and his deep green eyes twinkled. “I know ye are, but ye will be fine. This is Cael. He is one of my guardsmen who I don’t think ye have met yet.”

  Roughly the same age as Tadhg, Cael was a little shorter with a slender wiry build, sandy blond hair, and hazel eyes, which seemed full of laughter.

  Cael, inclined his head. “My lady.”

  “I am pleased to meet ye, Cael.” Mairead hated the hint of hesitation in her voice. As always, Tadhg picked up on her fear. “Cael will go with ye on your visits, or if ye prefer, I can. I should pay a visit soon anyway.”

  Mairead smiled warmly at him. Obviously he was giving her an escape. It would be so much easier if Tadhg went with her, but just knowing he would accompany her if she really wanted him to gave her the confidence to go without him. “Perhaps we’ll go together on another day.”

  Tadhg beamed at her. “Cael, I think I am being dismissed.” He handed the basket to Cael. “Give them my warmest regards, sweetling. I will see ye this evening.” Then he gave her a quick kiss before leaving.

  Cael grinned at her. “Are ye ready to meet the auld ones, my lady?”

  “Aye, I suppose I am as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  �
��Well, don’t worry, the laird has given me strict orders not to let them eat ye.”

  Mairead chuckled. “I suspect we should see Dolan first. Shall we go?” Cael walked toward the village with her, chatting the whole way. Mairead had to smile. He reminded her of her brother Rowan, good natured and outgoing.

  Cael knocked on the door of Dolan’s cottage. A very elderly man opened the door.

  “Dolan, this is Lady Mairead. She’s come to pay ye a visit.”

  Dolan grunted and turned back into the room, leaving the door open for them to follow. When they entered Dolan’s cottage, they were met with disorder. The floor was dirty, unwashed dishes covered the table, and the water bucket was empty. Dolan grunted at them again as he sat in a chair by the hearth.

  Mairead experienced an odd sense of relief at this. Here was something she could do. “Cael, would ye mind fetching some water?”

  “Not at all, my lady. I won’t be long.”

  When Cael left, Mairead found an old broom tucked in the corner. “I’ll just give the floor a quick sweep while we wait for him, shall I.” Another nod and grunt were Dolan’s response. Well, Ide had warned her that he wouldn’t talk much. Although she tried, she was been unable to draw him into a conversation, so she gave up and hummed a tune while she worked. She stopped when Cael returned from the well with two buckets of water.

  Dolan looked up at her with a cross expression. “Don’t stop, lass.”

  “But the floor is done.”

  “I don’t care about the floor, lass, I like the song ye were humming. Can ye not sing the words?”

  “Aye—I—I suppose I can,” she stammered. “I’ll just wash up these dishes while I do.” Cael tried to take over the task, but she waved him away. Truthfully, Mairead was sure she would die of embarrassment if she had to simply stand there and sing. The dishes kept her hands busy and lessened her anxiety.

  She sang a ballad, which told the story of a fisherman who caught a selkie, a creature who takes the form of a seal when living in the sea, but is a beautiful woman when she sheds the sealskin. As she sang the last verse, she finished putting the clean dishes away. Glancing at him, she smiled. Dolan had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. She thought he might have dozed off, but when the song ended he opened his eyes again. “Thank ye, lass. Cael, lad, what did ye say her name was?”

  “God’s teeth, Dolan, this is the laird’s wife. She is Lady Matheson.”

  “There is no need to get testy with me, Cael. Besides, ye’re an eejit. The laird doesn’t have a wife.”

  Now that Dolan was talking, Mairead found the conversation extremely amusing. Cael tried to be very patient. “Aye, he does, Dolan, he married her last week on the Feast of St. Mairead.”

  “Oh, aye, I remember now. I thought everyone said he was marrying a mouse. I must have heard it wrong. That lad has managed to catch a little bird with a sweet voice.”

  Cael looked horrified, and Lady Matheson blushed, but his words pleased her. “I’m glad ye enjoyed my visit, Dolan.”

  “Ye can come back anytime, lass, only ye needn’t sweep the floor.”

  When they left Dolan’s cottage, Cael shook his head. “My lady, I am sorry, he is very old.”

  “There is nothing to apologize for, Cael.”

  “But he called ye ‘lass’ and made the mouse comment.”

  “Cael, I am not the least bit bothered by a clan elder calling me lass. In fact, I find it endearing. As to the mouse comment, I have been called a mouse my whole life and he said I wasn’t a mouse. The way I see things, it is an improvement.”

  Eilis lived only a few doors down from Dolan, and she was thrilled when they arrived. Unlike Dolan’s, her little cottage was as neat as a pin. Mairead put the package of food on the table and set about to make the tisane.

  “Nay, my lady, ye mustn’t be waiting on me, I can do it.”

  Mairead patted her arm. “Please, let me. I would love a cup myself.”

  “Well, as long as ye are having one too.” Eilis took a seat near the hearth, putting her feet up on a little stool. “I don’t move around well when the weather gets cold. Cael, lad, would ye fetch in a bit of wood for me? There is a log pile in the back—ye may have to chop some.”

  “I will, Eilis.” He nodded to Mairead before leaving the cottage. Cael didn’t return immediately, and the sound of an ax rang through the chilly air.

  Eilis smiled conspiratorially. “Now the lad is gone, my lady, tell me about the wedding.”

  Mairead sat with the old woman, drinking the warm brew and giving her a succinct account of the wedding. Not satisfied with Mairead’s brief description, Eilis asked questions about every detail. By the time Cael had returned with a stack of wood and fed the fire, the women were laughing about Mairead’s “triple dose” of thyme.

  As the room warmed a bit, just as Ide had predicted, Eilis’ eyes began to droop. Mairead washed their mugs before suggesting Eilis take a little rest. “Aye, my lady, I think I will just rest my eyes for a few minutes.” When she was comfortable, Mairead and Cael bid her farewell.

  Jock lived on the other side of the village, so they had a few minutes walk to get there. They passed a number of villagers going about their business. The first two visits had gone well, and Mairead was feeling very pleased with herself. She smiled and greeted the people they met. While no one was overtly discourteous, their responses were chilly, and Mairead received some clearly critical looks. In the face of such obvious disdain, she found it much more difficult to maintain her cheerful, friendly demeanor.

  Maybe ye are only imagining it. She glanced at Cael and was disturbed to see his expression was dark and angry. He must have read their disapproval as easily as she had. By the time they reached Jock’s cottage she was nervous and tense. Mairead stood at the door a moment, hesitant to knock. Cael reached over her and knocked on the door. “Ye’ll like Jock,” he said gently.

  The old man who came to the door was tiny, not much bigger than Mairead herself, and a little stooped. He had thinning snowy white hair, ancient weathered skin, and watery grey eyes. He greeted her with a kind smile, ushering her into his little home. The room was cluttered but clean, except for wood chips spread all over the hearth. The beginning of a carving was resting next to a small knife on the table.

  “Welcome, my lady, I am honored by yer visit. Have a seat here by the hearth.”

  She smiled and sat in the chair he offered. “Thank ye. I see ye like woodworking. My grandfather did as well. He was always carving something but if anyone asked him what he was making, his standard answer was ‘wood chips.’”

  Jock laughed. “Aye, I do make a lot of those. Cael, lad, reach down that wee bottle up on the shelf and pour us all a drop or two.”

  Mairead didn’t usually drink spirits, but she didn’t want to risk offending him by refusing. She was glad to see Cael poured very little into two cups and a more substantial portion in the third, giving it to Jock.

  “Other than woodchips, what kind of things did your grand-da carve?”

  “He carved my first instrument, a recorder.”

  “Did he? That must have taken some skill.”

  “Aye. I was just a young lass, but I had been fascinated when I heard a minstrel play one. The instrument has three separate joints and the minstrel told him in order to play the recorder properly, the foot joint containing the last finger hole had to be turned slightly to one side. My grandfather carved intricate vines that wove from the mouthpiece in and around the eight holes. To assemble it properly, I just had to make sure the vines connected correctly across both joints.”

  “Now that was very clever.”

  “It did make it easy for me. He also carved a wee wren among the vines on the foot joint. It is so small most people don’t notice it, but I can see it when I play.”

  “Why a wren?”

  Mairead blushed. “He said wrens are tiny and not as bold and brightly colored as some other birds, but they are clever, industrious wee things and
their song is glorious. After that, he called me his ‘wee wren.’”

  Jock chuckled. “Aye, I can see how he would. I have never tried to make something so intricate. I was a bow-maker and fletcher for years, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be.” With that, Jock settled in for a nice long chat. He asked her more about her family and clan and told her about the laird and his younger brother when they were lads. “Of course, Robbie was still a wee lad when he and his mother passed. That nearly killed the old laird. After a few years, folks urged him to marry again, but he never would. ’Tis rare when a noble marriage is marked by true love, but theirs was. The way he used to look at her, it was as if he could never get his fill. It is the way the young laird looks at ye.”

  The comment took Mairead by surprise, and she couldn’t keep from showing it. Could Jock be right? Did Tadhg feel any small bit of the deep affection she felt growing?

  Jock laughed. “Why so shocked, my lady? Ye have the same look about ye for the laird. The two of ye are well met.”

  Mairead blushed and stammered, “I—he—he cares for me but—but—we—we barely know each other.” She chanced a glance at Cael, who was grinning.

  “My lady, I’ll warrant ye know him well enough to know ye love him, and it is obvious he adores ye,” said Jock firmly.

  Jock was right about her; it wasn’t simply concern or affection. She believed she loved Tadhg. Could he be right about Tadhg too? Wanting somewhere to hide, Mairead put the cup to her mouth and took a large swallow. She completely forgot it contained whisky. The gulp of the strong alcohol caused her to cough and wheeze. Her eyes watered as she tried to catch her breath.

  Jock laughed and patted her on the back. “I don’t know why ye are embarrassed, my lady. Love is a blessing, and I expect ye are going to need to take it where ye can find it.”

  Mairead recovered momentarily. “Why do ye say that?”

  Jock leveled a sober glance at her. “Ye have been warmly received by your new clan, have ye?”

  “Well—I’m still—it hasn’t been long.”