'Our crofts are wanted,' he said harshly. 'The noble Countess of Sutherland and her man seek to put more gold in their coffers. And he the richest man in the kingdom.'
'The Marquess of Stafford? Is he very rich? I thought he was an Ambassador in Paris during their revolution.'
'Aye, and he's rich. Three hundred thousand pounds a year they say he's worth, from his own estates, and his uncle's.'
'His uncle?'
'The Duke who started building canals. Bridgewater, he was – a suitable name.'
'But what has he done?'
'He wants to build roads and bridges, but his tenants have to pay for them. Four shillings a head, he asked for.'
'From everyone? Children too?'
'Everyone,' Bruce said, sighing. 'That's more than a year's rent for many. And if we could not pay we were given the choice of an acre of cliffside, or taking ship at Thurso, and exile to Upper Canada.'
Impulsively Flora reached across to touch his hand, and he gave her a bleak smile.
'They're ruthless,' he went on. 'Only a few years back she curried favour with the English Parliament by raising a regiment.'
'Sutherlanders are famous as fighters.'
'Aye, but we can't fight eviction.'
'Some did,' Malcolm put in indignantly. 'Gordon Macleod and his friends tried to drive them off.'
'And he was taken, and thrown into a dungeon,' his father reminded him. 'He'll no doubt hang.'
'That regiment was pressed, they weren't volunteers,' Malcolm muttered. 'It's fine if you want to fight, but not compelled, like that.'
'If they refused to go their families were evicted,' Bruce explained. 'And now, when they return, those who do, they'll have no homes or families to come back to.'
'So he's increased the rents?' Flora asked. She needed to understand that, not complications such as pressed fighting men. 'Most crofters struggle to pay what's asked, but he must know this. People can't afford much more, anywhere in the Highlands.'
'He's turned us out!' Malcolm said fiercely. 'Everybody in the glen. They trampled our crops, drove off our animals. We don't matter to him!' His eyes, a deeper blue than his father's, flashed fire, and his knuckles grew white where he gripped the mug hard.
'But he'll need tenants for the farms,' Flora said, turning towards Malcolm. 'If they're to collect rents, he needs tenants to pay them, and if you can't afford more, how can anyone else?'
'Sheep can pay more than mere people,' Bruce said.
'Sheep?'
They all turned to stare at Jamie, who was standing in the doorway.
'You recall my cousin Bruce Mackay?' Fiona said, going across to Jamie. He slipped his arm round her shoulders and pulled her close.
'We met at our wedding,' Jamie nodded. 'Welcome, Bruce. And these are your children, no doubt. They've grown a lot in two years.'
'Aye. Malcolm here's going on sixteen in a couple o' months, and Meg's just fourteen.'
'What's this about sheep?' Jamie asked, moving forwards and sitting beside Meg on the bench. He smiled his thanks to Flora as she put another mug of hot tea on the table, then as she sat down next to him put his arm round her waist and gently hugged her.
'There's more profit to be made from sheep, running on large farms,' Bruce said abruptly. 'He's turned us all off the crofts we've rented for generations, and means to rent the land out again in huge lots. There'll be strangers in Sutherland.'
'Lowlanders, maybe even Englishmen!' Malcolm spat.
Bruce ignored him. 'None of us could afford the sort of rent they'll pay,' he went on more calmly. 'And one shepherd can work where a dozen families used to support themselves, so there's no room for us.'
'That's wicked!' Flora exclaimed. 'What do they expect you all to do? Where can you go? How can you live?'
Bruce laughed, a mirthless sound which made Flora shiver. He sounded so bitter, unlike her jolly cousin.
'We were offered an acre of land fifteen miles away or more, on the seashore. The noble lord suggested we all became fisherfolk, if an acre of land covered in rocks and sand wouldn't support us. He didn't offer us boats or nets, or even somewhere to shelter our heads,' he added, his voice sharp with scorn.
'And who wants to spend his time on the water, in any case?' Malcolm demanded. 'Some of the people went, they had no choice, but none of them knows a thing about fishing.'
'And who would buy the fish if they caught any?' Meg asked quietly. It was the first time she had spoken, and her voice was full of tears. 'There's no town nearby, and no roads suitable for carts, just pack-ponies. Not until he builds them! And that could take years. Our needs wouldn't matter compared with those of sheep. The fish would be rotten by the time it could be taken to market,' she added.
Flora glanced anxiously at her. She looked ill, pale and thin, and her eyes were dull. She was shivering, but Flora did not think it was from cold. It was from some deeper misery. Flora dared not ask about Margaret, the girl's mother. It was clear something dreadful had happened, but they would tell her in good time.
'We hoped you could help,' Bruce said into the pause. He glanced swiftly up at Jamie and then away again.
'Me?' Jamie asked.
'Aye, for Flora's family,' Bruce replied. 'You're a tacksman, you sub-let several farms, and I hoped you might be able to rent one to me. I don't ask for charity, just a wee bit of help getting started again. I'll not be a drag on you, don't fear that. I've a few coins put by, enough for a quarter's rent, at least.'
'You want a farm here in this glen?' Jamie asked. 'Man, it's not so easy! There are plenty of people here, grown sons who've never left the glen, and have a claim on farms which come empty.'
'I told you it would be no use asking!' Malcolm burst out. 'There's no one will help us. We might just as well have gone straight to Glasgow and looked for jobs there!'
'Glasgow?' Flora asked, startled. She couldn't imagine Bruce in a town. 'What sort of jobs?'
'Anything! Sweeping crossings would be better than asking for charity! Especially from relatives who don't want to help!' Malcolm shouted, and dodging his father's attempted cuff across the ears he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room.
'Leave him,' Bruce sighed. 'He'll apologise later. I'll make sure of that. It's been upsetting for us all.'
'And you're all exhausted,' Flora said gently. 'Bide here for a while, until we can think what's best. Meg can share my bed while you men make up beds in here. There's bracken and heather aplenty to sleep on, you'll be comfortable enough.'
Meg suddenly put her arms on the table and began to sob. Flora could hear some muffled words which sounded like 'I want my mother', and looked a question at Bruce.
He gestured for them to leave Meg, and they moved quietly outside. Bruce and Flora sat on the bench Flora had used earlier, while Jamie leant against the wall beside them.
'What happened?' Flora asked.
Bruce sighed. 'The kind Countess permitted us to take the timbers of our houses. I was going to do that, and move to where we'd been offered land, at least for a while. There wasn't time to think, I had no other plans made.' He paused, staring into the distance where storm clouds were gathering around the mountain tops. 'But that couldn't be done in a day.'
'Of course not,' Flora said gently.
'We had to sleep outside once I'd begun to dismantle the house. The men who came to make sure we obeyed orders wouldn't permit any delay. Margaret had been ill with an ague for more than a week.' He paused and took a few deep breaths.
'You mean they forced her to sleep outside when she was ill?' Flora asked, aghast. How would she have faced that? It was abominable! 'They must have been inhuman! Savages!'
Bruce nodded wearily. 'I humbled myself, something I never thought to do to Lowlanders. I made myself beg. I pleaded with them, asked for a few days' grace, but they didn't care. Get out ourselves, or they'd pull the house down on top of us.'
'That's wicked!'
'I had no choice. I made a shelter against a wall f
or my Margaret. It was comfortable enough, but the nights were so cold! We only had a bit of canvas to make a roof. It's now three weeks to the day they came. Two whole weeks, it's taken us, to get here,' he added, and lapsed into gloomy recollections.
'Margaret?" Flora prompted gently after a minute of silence.
Bruce shook his head. 'We piled all the coverings we could on her, but she caught a fever. She was delirious. I had to spend time with her, looking after her, or she'd have thrown everything off and been frozen.'
'The poor woman! But then?'
'By the time I'd dismantled the house and piled the timbers on the cart, all the rest of the crofters had gone. They would have stayed to help, but they were threatened with losing their own plots if they did.'
Jamie nodded. 'They had to put their own families first. I can understand that.'
'One family, Margaret's best friend and her man, who'd been our nearest neighbours, offered to take Margaret with them. Then that night, before we could arrange her in the cart, for she was unable to walk, she died. I don't think she cared any more.'
Flora gripped his hand and he clung convulsively to her, tears squeezing from between his tightly closed eyelids.
'We'll help all we can,' she promised. 'You can depend on us, can't he, Jamie?' She swung round to face her husband, and saw the hesitation in his eyes.
'Andrew – I half-promised him the croft,' he said softly.
Bruce did not hear. He took a deep breath. 'She died that night. There was only me and Malcolm left to bury her and say a few prayers for her poor soul. The Minister, God rot him, had gone long since. He'd been afraid to stay after telling us all it was for our good, and our souls would benefit from our bodies' adversity. He didn't wait to benefit his own soul when it looked as though his flock would burn him at the stake!'
'You poor things! Of course we'll help, won't we Jamie?' Flora rose to her feet and went to slide her arms round Jamie's neck. 'Andrew's young, he hasn't bairns to feed,' she urged softly so that Bruce could not hear. 'Please, love, for me. Help Bruce for my sake!'
Jamie looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. 'Of course, my sweet. Bruce, in the morning I'll take you to see the farm which I have to rent. It's small, but I'm sure you'll make good use of it.'
***
Chapter 2
'You're no Highlander! You come here from the city, thinking to lord it over us poor crofters, just because your damned family made a bit of money!'
Flora, inside the kitchen, dropped the knife with which she was jointing a chicken for their dinner, and ran to the door. Andrew stood a few yards away, on the far side of the track. The morning sun played over him, slanting through the branches of their few fruit trees, which were sheltered from the north winds by a low ridge that separated their croft from his father's. The dappled shade hid his expression momentarily as he swayed from foot to foot, his stance solid, and threatening. He was clutching a sturdy-looking bough, short enough to swing easily, thick enough to do considerable damage if it landed on a vulnerable spot. His face was red with fury, his brown hair rough and tangled where he had swept it back from his face. His eyes blazed with such venom Flora halted abruptly.
Jamie stood on the track, looking up at Andrew. He was taller than the younger man, and slighter, but now the latter's position gave him the advantage of height. 'Put that down, lad, and let's talk it over calmly,' Jamie said, his voice even, as he'd talk to a frightened horse.
'Don't patronise me, calling me lad,' Andrew interrupted. 'I'm full-grown, and as big, aye, bigger than you.'
'Andrew, calm down! Bad temper won't help, if you want to persuade me you're fit to run your own croft,' Jamie said, not raising his voice.
Andrew snorted in contempt. 'Who are you to judge me? You're nothing but a soft foreigner, sneaking your way in here because you had the luck to persuade Flora to marry you!'
'Leave Flora out of this,' Jamie snapped, glancing towards her and gesturing her to go back inside. Flora remained where she was, clutching the door jamb.
'You're living off her land, not yours!' Andrew shouted, and retreated a pace further up the slope as Jamie took a step towards him. 'Yes, that gets to you, don't it? She's a MacDougal, like me, and this glen belongs to us, not foreigners from Glasgow! She was a traitor to the clan, marrying city scum like you. And if I choose to give you the beating you deserve there's nought you can do to prevent me!'
'Andrew, stop this!' Flora said, letting go the support of the wall and walking towards the two men. This was terrible, such enmity from someone she considered a good, friendly neighbour. He'd never before behaved with such aggression. 'What's the matter with you?'
'You know what I mean, you bitch!'
Jamie drew in a sharp breath and suddenly lunged forwards, trying to snatch the vicious-looking weapon. 'Don't speak to my wife like that, or I'll thrash you within an inch of your miserable life!'
Andrew leapt backwards, further up the slope so that he towered over them both. He flourished his cudgel, and sneered. 'You promised me old Stuart's croft.'
'It was no promise. I said I'd think about it. And now apologise to Flora.' Jamie's voice was hard, and he began to advance on Andrew, ignoring the cudgel. Flora grasped his hand and tried to hold him back.
'Don't! He's beyond reason, Jamie. He'll hurt you.'
'Apologise to my wife,' Jamie said, shaking her off.
'Apologise? For the truth? And you said nought of thinking about it! You know full well I had the best claim! Apart from the fact I've lived in the glen my whole life, we need the extra land. We can't all live on the few acres my father rents.'
'You weren't the only one with a claim,' Jamie said crisply. 'I would have promised you the next croft to come vacant, but unless you apologise you'll have no chance of that!'
Andrew stared at them for a long moment in silence, and then tossed aside the bough. 'I want no favours from crawling foreigners!' he snarled, and turned away, striding up the slope.
Flora clasped Jamie's hand and they stood watching until he reached the top, and turned to give a derisive wave before dropping out of sight.
She took a deep breath. 'Jamie, I'm sorry! You did do it for me. But what could I do, with my own cousin and his children destitute, begging for help?'
'Nothing,' Jamie said, pulling her to him and kissing her upturned face. 'He's still too young to manage his own croft. Today he's proved it.'
'But he'll stay angry. I'm afraid.'
'Of what? That he'll lie in wait for me, and try to kill me? Don't fret, my sweet. I know Andrew. His temper's quick, and he's violent sometimes, but he soon cools.'
'He had that fight with Dougal, a month back,' Flora said, concerned.
'He was drunk, don't you remember Eliza said he couldn't lift his head the next morning?'
'He could get drunk again,' she said, unconvinced. 'He likes his dram too much, and there are plenty of stills in the glen, even if they are hidden. Raw whisky's easy to find.'
Jamie held her tightly. 'Don't fret, sweetheart. He'll calm down within the hour. I'll go and see his father tomorrow. William's a sensible man. I'll suggest that if Andrew shows he can control his temper I'll give him another chance as soon as I can.'
***
Flora had to be content. All Jamie would tell her the following day was that Andrew's father had apologised on his son's behalf, and promised to thrash him if he caused further trouble.
'And he will, have no doubt of it,' he added, laughing,
'But Andrew's a head taller than Will!' Flora exclaimed, and chuckled at the thought of Andrew tamely submitting to such humiliation.
'Will's probably stronger, all the same, and he's ruled that tribe of his firmly enough up to now. They all respect him, maybe even fear him.'
'Could that be why Andrew's so eager to get away?'
Jamie shook his head. 'Not entirely, I think. Their croft is small, they have a job to manage on so little land.'
Flora sighed. 'I feel guilty. But Br
uce, he was so desperate, what else could we do?'
'Nothing. I'm not sorry for helping him. When Andrew's in a calmer mood I'll offer him some work for me. I could do with some more help getting in the hay. You'll be too busy with Rosie to work with me this year.'
Flora smiled dutifully. The baby's name had been shortened to Rosie within a week, but try as she might Flora could not feel the overwhelming love for her that she felt was natural. 'I'll do what I can,' she said swiftly. 'Other wives do. Rosie will be comfortable enough in a basket nearby, or a shawl on my back. I'll ask Eliza to show me how to make it safe.'
During the next few days both Eliza and Will appeared to apologise to Flora for Andrew's behaviour, but she recognised a gulf between them that was not there before. Clearly they were mouthing the words, while believing that Andrew's grievance was justified. Miserably she wondered what else she could have done. She'd never before lived with neighbours who were cold and resentful, though outwardly polite. They hadn't openly blamed her when she married Jamie, even though they had all been expecting a match between her and Andrew. They dared not complain now, she realised, for they feared Jamie had the power to turn them off their own croft. He never would, but they must feel they couldn't trust him.
She had too much time on her own to brood, Flora told herself briskly one morning after Jamie had gone to work on a field at the further edges of their land. In the first year she had been with him for most of the time, working together, but she thought Rosie was too young yet for a basket at the side of a field. Eliza had been so cold Flora had been unwilling to ask for help about turning a shawl into a sling to carry her. Besides, the weather had suddenly become very hot, and being woken during the night to feed the child was tiring. She felt too lethargic to move far from the house.
Rosie began to howl for her next feed, and Flora took her outside. She found a comfortable place under the trees where she could lean back against a fallen branch and be out of the direct sun. Rosie, as greedy as ever, guzzled contentedly, and Flora closed her eyes. She relished these moments of peace and relaxation. The baby, sated, eventually slept in her arms, but Flora remained still. It was too hot and peaceful to want to move.
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