by Alisa Adams
Neely looked at her friend Swan and then at the small blonde woman beside her. She was younger than any of them and yet, she seemed to know all about this.
“Ye told Cat this wonderful news before ye told yer vera best friends?” Neely glanced at Kaithria and then back to Swan.
“Och,” Cat said with a shrug. “Swan didnae need to tell me. I figured it out when I found her retching over her bed pan. With Wolf gone I knew I had to watch over me new sister-in-law, as well as my new niece or nephew,” she said happily. “Plus, I had heard all about yer grand adventure on yer way to McKay Castle and I wanted one of me own.” Her eyes sparkled as she talked. “And the Ross sisters told me how the three of ye fought off the Sutherlands with only yer peat cutters. Oh and ye, Neely, with that stick ye carry strapped to yer back.”
“’Tis a golf club, not a stick,” Neely grumbled under her breath. She had borrowed it from the old horsemaster Beak who had been with them when they left Brough. He was obsessed with the new sport from Edinborough. He was forever hitting little balls with his carved wooden clubs. In fact, they had managed to ward off some thieves by sending stones and rocks flying at the thieves as fast as they could hit them with their clubs and with Swan and Kaithria’s peat cutters. This new fad of golf had come in very handy on their journey away from Brough.
“I am sorry girls,” Swan said to Neely and Kaithria. “I was afraid if I told ye, that ye wouldnae let me come with ye.”
“Ye are correct Lady Swan. Of course we wouldnae,” Kaithria said quietly.
Neely was aware that Wolf would have her own head for allowing his new wife—that he doted on and adored and loved so much that it was apparent to the entirety of the McKay clan and the king himself, and who was also pregnant with their first child—to accompany them on this journey. “Swan,” she said, ignoring Swan’s glowering look at her. She tried again. “Riding cannae be good for ye or the bairn. We would not have risked either of ye,” Neely said gently.
Swan got her color back. “I have been riding since I was a tiny lass, it is vera natural to me. ’Tis not the riding that is making me sick, ’tis the babe!” She took a breath. “I would not miss this. I am going with ye. Ye cannae stop me.”
Neely looked at her friend with concern. “Vera well, but ye must tell us if ye are tiring. And I think ye should switch mounts. Ride one of the auld horses. One of us can ride yer young, rambunctious Peigi.”
Cat got very excited. “That is what I told her and why I asked to ride Old Inch instead of me own horse. I will ride Peigi and Swan can ride Old Inch!”
Swan looked at her young sister-in-law doubtfully. “Are ye sure? She is quite the handful and still green to being ridden.”
“Oh aye, aye! I want to!” Cat said in excitement as she jumped off Old Inch. She talked excitedly as she switched mounts with Swan. “Wolf has not let me ride anything with spirit since me illness and that horrid healer cut off all me hair!” she said as she ruffled the short curls around her ears that danced merrily in the breeze.
Neely smiled at Cat. She wondered why the girl's hair was so short. It certainly looked lovely on her and suited her gay personality.
Cat managed to mount the tall mare, Peigi, with ease. Neely reached over and steadied Old Inch’s saddle as Swan mounted. Swan was indeed the finest horse person she knew. Man or woman.
Except perhaps the Ross sisters. Neely, Swan, and Kaithria had met the Ross sisters at the Sutherland clan’s castle. The Ross sisters all rode huge draft horses called Clydesdales, and the enormous horses were named after tiny flowers. Even the oldest sister Godet’s stallion was named Bluebell! The Ross sisters were fierce warriors, saving their family’s castle, Fionaghal, themselves. They’d had quite the adventures themselves and had told Neely, Swan, Kaithria, and Cat all about each of their adventures when they visited McKay Castle.
The Ross sisters had commented on the black Frisians that Neely, Swan, and Kaithria rode. They talked at length about them on the way to McKay Castle. They were impressed with Swan and her training of Peigi. Though the Frisians were not as large as the Ross sisters’ Clydesdales, the Frisians still stood tall, at seventeen hands. Their backs were as high as the tallest of men. With their very upright and elegantly arched necks and large, dramatic movement, the Frisians were intimidating in their own right. The pure black horses with the feathers on their feet and their dramatically long forelocks hanging down over their eyes to their noses, as well as their long manes that fell well past their shoulders, were a sight to behold. In their day they had been bred to carry a knight in full, heavy armor. They were fearless horses in battle, and were fiercely loyal and bonded to their riders. To see a woman on these battle horses was unusual. To see a woman training one was even more unusual. The Ross sisters had been very impressed. They saw that Swan could ride anything, and were even impressed that Neely and Kaithria rode the black battle horses as well.
Neely never mentioned Teeth’s advanced age to the Ross sisters, for she was new to riding, and was well aware that she could never handle a spirited young horse like Peigi. The old war horse Mentieth was all she could handle. Even though he did have the bad habit of using his teeth on people, and not always in a teasing way, as he did with her.
Neely and the three other women continued on with Swan’s stomach thankfully quieting. They traveled until they found a place to stop for the evening to make camp.
Neely would have liked to push on longer that day, but Cat nodded her head towards Swan, knowing she needed to rest.
“We must stop for the night Neilina,” Cat said lightly, “for ’tis black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat to be sure! Why, ye cannae even see our horses for they are as black as the river Stygian the earl puts his oars into.” She beamed at them. “’Tis vera exciting to be out in the dark!”
“Aye,” answered Neely haltingly after a moment of staring at Cat with a raised brow at her happiness at being “out in the dark.” She looked around. “We should halt for the night. We are somewhere between Farr Bay and Strathy. This looks as guid as any place to stop and get our rest.”
In the twilight of the morning Neely roused them from their sleep.
“Come ladies, we need to mount up. Grab some oatcakes and let's be off!” Neely called out. Then she added, “The men will have realized we have gone by now. We must keep our lead or they will send us ‘poor, wee, helpless women’ back to McKay.”
That was all the women needed to hurry along their morning ablutions and get back in the saddle.
They traveled hard that morning, over peat bridges when they had to, around the bogs if they could, repairing a bridge by cutting blocks of peat with their peat cutters to fill in the holes in the bridges when needed so the horses could cross over safely. They stopped whenever Swan was feeling queasy and needed a moment to still her stomach. Gathering around her, offering her encouragement, and generally making her laugh.
“Och!” Cat declared loudly when Swan had let go of her breakfast over the side of Old Inch. “That is a honkin, hummin, howlin bad smell!”
Kaithria was the one to come close enough to pat Swan’s shoulder, averting her nose discreetly.
“I think it was a mockit, manky, mingin, boggin one!” Neely said with a giggle as she held Swan’s horse so that Swan could take a small sip of water.
Swan tried to laugh as well.
“Och, nay, save those words for when she has to change his nappies!” Cat said as she handed Swan an oatcake to nibble on. “Twas definitely a bowfin, boggin odor to be sure!”
Kaithria said very calmly and quietly, “You mean her nappies.”
Swan looked at Kaithria and smiled. “Aye, it could be a wee girl bairn.” Swan took a small sip of water. “I think I would like that, but either way, just a healthy bairn is what I hope for myself and Wolf.”
“Ye love him don’t ye?” Neely asked with a sigh.
Swan beamed with happiness. “More than I thought was possible.”
Cat sighed as well. “I am so happy me brothe
r found ye. I have never seen him this happy. He had become such a...such a…”
“Snarling Wolf?” Neely asked.
Cat laughed. “Aye,” she said, “but the fierce Wolf has been tamed by the gentle Swan.” She leaned over from atop Peigi’s back and lightly kissed Swan’s cheek. “Thank ye for bringing me brother back from the battlefields of hell he suffered in,” she whispered.
Neely cocked her head thoughtfully at Cat’s words, thinking of Steil.
Swan looked over at Neely. “What do you think of me big brother all grown up into a man now Neely? Are ye still besotted with him like ye were when we were little girls?”
Neely blushed hotly. “Of course not,” she said.
Kaithria looked at all three of them. “Hmm…we should keep going.”
And so they did.
As they rode throughout the day Neely kept well away from any of the villages, not wanting to draw attention to four women by themselves, all riding striking battle horses. Neely kept looking back down the road from where they had come. She wanted to make sure that Steil was not behind them. She also was keeping a sharp eye out down the road in front of them. She found it curious that they had not come upon anyone on the roads as they had when they left Brough. It seemed odd and discomfiting that they had not come upon anyone.
It wasn’t until the next day that the Highland rains started. First it was just a morning fog that rose up from the peat bogs. Then it turned to a grey mist that seemed to hang in the air. Each breath was one of dampness, bringing with it the taste of peat in the very back of one’s throat. The smell of the damp bog was a reminder of danger but also that they were closer to home.
Visibility became difficult, for all that was visible was darkened peat bogs for as far and as flat as the eye could see. Just above the ground hung thick fog that was hard to see through.
The women pulled their hooded cloaks over their heads. Neely pulled her blue tam down tighter on her hair and covered it with her hood. They spread their long, woolen tartans over their shoulders and down over their skirts to keep their legs dry and warm. Each of the women wore sturdy leather boots under their skirts. The boots helped to keep their feet securely in the stirrups, which became even more slippery in the wet rain.
Neely halted Teeth and looked back at Swan through the rain. “How are ye feeling? Do ye want to stop? Hunker down until this dreigh weather passes?”
Swan halted as well and shook her head insistently. “Nay, we need to keep going. We cannae see anything but the road so we should stay on it!”
Neely looked at Cat and Kaithria for confirmation as they came to a halt as well.
They nodded. “We keep going,” Cat said as she tipped her face up to the rain and licked a droplet off her lips. “’Tis wondrous to be out in the rain, isnae it?”
Kaithria watched the young woman who was taking such joy in tasting the rain. She smiled slightly at Cat, and then turned to Neely. “Aye, ’tis too dangerous to leave the road and chance the bogs to find a dry spot.” Kaithria spoke in a low voice as she peered through the rain at the other women.
Cat looked over at her. “Are ye always so mysterious?” She rushed on before Kaithria could even think to answer. “Dinnae ye know how freeing it is to be out and aboot? To feel alive and healthy and breathe the air and smell the peat and the sweet smell of the horses beneath us!” She smiled through the rain, the droplets on her face making her look like a glistening vision of fragile beauty. She cocked her head sideways as she looked at Kaithria in her long black hooded cloak. “I heard ye were a nun. Is this why ye are always so quiet and serious?”
“Ye heard I am a nun,” Kaithria repeated, deep in thought. She turned to Neely. “We should go, something is unsettling there.” She gestured to the road before them.
Neely sat on Teeth, who she had halted in the middle of the road. She turned to see where Kaithria was looking, trying to see through the rain down the road.
The women had all halted their horses in a tight semicircle on the road. They sat silently in the falling rain. Listening. Droplets of water were running down their cheeks and glistening in their eyelashes as they peered ahead into the fog.
Neely turned her head quickly to the other women and put a finger to her lips. She motioned down the road.
“I see movement ahead,” Neely whispered to them. She looked back at the swirling fog. “Perhaps it is just sheep.”
The women instantly stilled.
Cat was the first to whisper, “I see several shapes!”
“Aye,” Kaithria agreed. “Sheep I think.”
Cat asked with a hint of excitement, “But just in case they arnae sheep, these horses Swan, can they fight like the Ross sisters’ big draft horses?”
Swan bit her lip. She was trying not to start humming or singing like she used to do when she was afraid.
She looked at Cat and Neely and Kaithria and nodded her head vigorously. She whispered urgently, “Aye, these are war horses, battle horses. With their high head carriage and their broad chests they are good to ram into the enemy. And they are the most brave of any horse. If whatever is coming down that road in the mist means us ill will, put yer legs hard into yer horse and knock them doon!” She paused, her face white.
“Is that all?” Cat asked with disappointment. “They cannae rear or kick or strike on command like the Ross sisters’ draft horses do? Bluebell is stunning when he rears!” Cat added.
Swan gulped. “My horsemaster, Beak, said that our horses will take care of us if we run into a real fight. That they are in better shape now than when we left Brough Castle.”
Cat nodded sagely; that seemed to be enough for her.
Swan stared at her friends with worried blue eyes. “In case it is not sheep, I have me peat cutter. The blade is sharp to cut through the peat but also served me before as a weapon when we left Brough. Anyone else?”
Kaithria spoke softly, “Aye, I as well. A peat cutter.”
Then Kaithria looked at Neely and Cat.
Cat proudly but awkwardly used both hands to pull a large sword with an elaborate, steel cage basket handle to protect the hand, out of a leather sleeve hanging from her saddle.
“Where did ye get that lady Catriona?” Neely whispered with some surprise.
Cat smiled. “Off the family weapons wall in the great hall of our castle. I believe it belonged to one of me great McKay relatives of long ago! ’Tis beautiful isnae it?”
“Why did ye pick such a heavy old thing? Ye can barely lift it,” Neely asked in a harsh whisper.
“Because it was the prettiest one, of course,” Cat answered lightly. “I cannae wait to be in a battle,” she whispered with excitement.
“Bi crivens,” Neely said under her breath as she looked at Swan and Kaithria. “’Tis not a thing to take lightly Lady Catriona. Any of us could be injured or killed. Ye should be afraid!”
“Och, I have been to the door of death and back again. I am not afraid! This is living!” she said with a small, grim smile. Seeing their worried faces as they stared at her she added, “But it very likely is just a herd of sheep. Perhaps we shall have mutton for our dinner?”
The women said nothing, only stared at the girl with the heavy sword in her hands. She looked out of place sitting upon the tall mare.
“What is yer weapon Lady Neilina?” Cat asked. “Yer stick?”
Neely frowned at her. “’Tis a golf club, not a stick.” Then she unhooked a round piece of steel covered in heavily decorated leather and brass studs. It was a targe that she held up. “I do have me club, but I also have this,” she said, holding up the targe shield. “Ceena and Ina Ross showed me how to use it as a shield but also as a slashing weapon, or throwing weapon.”
Cat gasped with delight. “From the weapons wall too!” She bounced lightly in her saddle with excitement as her sword came dangerously close to her thighs.
A motion caught Neely’s eyes and she turned quickly to look through the rain again.
“Ladie
s!” Neely whispered urgently as she pushed the leather strap of the targe onto her wrist and gripped it tightly in her fist. With her other hand she grabbed her club from where it was strapped to her back. “Here they come! Prepare yourselves!”
Swan and Kaithria held their peat cutters out in front of them like knights ready to charge forward in a jousting tournament.
Cat smiled with glee and held her sword with both hands.
3
A filthy and very wet sheep came dawdling along out of the mist in front of them.
Three more followed it.
Peigi snorted lightly and danced away from the sight of the sheep, causing Cat to lose hold of her heavy sword, her thin wrists unable to manage its unwieldy weight. The long sword clanged noisily to the ground.
Teeth, Inch, and Dummy lowered their heads calmly and with great interest to sniff the sheep as they ambled past.
The women all let out a deep sigh. Except Cat. She let out a huff of disappointment and jumped down to the ground to retrieve her sword.
“Now how will I ever mount back up on Peigi with this big sword?” Cat asked with a laugh.
Just then Teeth’s ears became alert and he turned to look down the road from the direction the sheep had come. He snorted once. Then again, blowing out loudly and sharply.
“It’s the dragon snort!” Swan said with apprehension.
They all looked at her.
Swan gripped her reins tightly. “Well, that is what I call it. It is their warning to each other, to us. Their alarm!” she whispered hastily.
Dummy and Inch turned their heads as well. They raised their heads high in alertness, their nostrils flaring.
“Ladies!” Neely whispered. “It’s not over yet. Those are hoofbeats I hear now.” She looked down at Cat. With her voice hard and commanding, she said, “Hand me that sword and get back on Peigi. Now!”
Neely quickly and carefully held the big sword out to Cat once she was back in the saddle. “Would ye like me golf club instead?” she asked quickly in a strained whisper, keeping one eye on the road.
