by Kara Griffin
He laughed. “Your land borders two lochs. What do ye mean you don’t swim?”
She pursed her lips and turned and continued onward. “I never learned. There was never time and then the MacDoughalls came. I was quite young. Must we travel by boat?”
Graeme took her hand. “Aye, we must. If not it would take us much longer to reach my lands and I’ve no time to waste. I promise not to let ye drown, lass.”
“Very well, I will endure it, Graeme, but only for your sake.”
They walked a few miles before they stopped to rest. After the horse was watered and given feed, they mounted his steed and made much better progress. The day dragged on and the miles absconded as they rode westerly. Toward evening, Graeme found a good spot, near a stream where they would sup, rest the horse, and get rest as well. It was secluded enough he could sleep without fear of attack.
“We’ll sleep here and find a boat on the morrow.”
“Sleep, husband, I’ll keep watch. I know you must be tired.”
Graeme was hesitant to close his eyes, but he was beyond exhausted. He’d barely slept in days. His eyes burned from the lack and betrayed him and closed.
Jarred awake by an unbeknownst sound, Graeme sat up and hastily looked around. Kerrigan wasn’t beside him. He shouted her name, stood and unsheathed his sword, ready to run off and find the trouble. She strolled from betwixt two bushes with a lovely smile on her face.
“I’m here, Graeme.”
“Don’t ever leave the camp.” He hadn’t meant to sound ill-tempered, but he couldn’t help it. She’d worried him.
“Even if I must tend to nature’s call?” Kerrigan laughed. “Honestly, husband, I was only a few feet away and I will not have you watching me …” Her face brightened.
“Ye didn’t mind me watching you the eve before last when we—”
She slapped her hand over his lips. “Do ye intend to mortify me? Please speak not of such matters.”
Thoroughly chastised, he found her winsome. “Aye, well if ye must at least allow me to ken where you are going when you see to nature’s call. I must’ve slept many an hour for I’m wide awake.”
“Truly. Ye slept like the dead. I checked twice believing you departed. But then you snored loud enough to wake the dead, so I realized you still breathed.” She shoved his shoulder and laughed.
“Now who is mortifying who?” Graeme found her delightful, so much so he couldn’t help but smile when he looked at her.
They walked in silence for a while before they took to the horse again. Riding most of the morning, they finally reached a small hamlet. Graeme was apprehensive about leaving his horse, for he’d paid a good amount of coin for him. But there was no choice. They approached the hamlet on foot to appear amiable to the villagers.
A man stood by a gate and peered at him from beneath a hooded cloak. His beard stuck out and blew with the slight breeze. He must’ve spent a good amount of time in the sun for his face weathered and wrinkled.
“Good day, sir, we are in need of a boat. Do you ken where we can find one?”
“Aye, only my family lives hereabouts. We have several boats. Why ye need a boat?”
“I’m traveling north and need to travel hastily. I shall leave my horse here as surety if you’ll allow me to return for him? We only wish to borrow it for our travels and mean to make the return journey within a few days.”
“The name’s Eli. I got a good stable to house him. Be pleased to keep ‘em for you until you return for added payment.”
Graeme nodded and took two coins from a small pouch inside his tunic. “I have feed for him and will leave it. Is this enough payment?”
“Aye, come and we’ll settle your steed.”
Graeme followed him to the stables, which was more a lean-to where only one other horse was housed. He tethered his mount, poured feed into the trough, and ensured there was water. After he took his and Kerrigan’s satchels, and the other sacks he’d tied to it, he removed the saddle and set it on a nearby post. “Be sure he is fed well and upon my return I will reward you.”
“Aye, he’s a fine warhorse, m’lord. He’ll be treated well. Come, I’ll show ye where the boat is.” The man led them to the water where five boats sat near a fish trap. Hundreds of fish flailed and got trapped in the triangle of a low stone wall.
Graeme was fascinated by Eli’s trap method for once the tide rose the fish would swim toward the shore and when the tide decreased, they’d be trapped within the stones. It was clever, and he’d have to remember this and tell his comrades about it.
Eli hefted the boat over his head and walked a several feet beyond the fish trap and set it on the shore. “Safe travels to ye both,” he said, and sauntered off toward the fish traps.
Graeme tossed in the satchels and sacks and motioned for Kerrigan to get in. She shook her head, and he sighed. This part of the trek would surely be the most difficult especially with a wearisome woman aboard.
“Worry not, I told ye I am good at this and we will travel faster. Trust me.” He took her hand and helped her aboard. She wobbled on her feet until she fell upon the bench in the center. He would’ve laughed when she rubbed her bottom, but he knew she’d take offense.
Graeme pushed the boat until it floated in the water, and he too jumped aboard. He took the oars in hand and rowed them out farther until they were in deeper water. “Hold tightly, the waters are swift and we’ll be traveling fast.”
She did as he bid and gasped a few times when the boat rocked to and fro from the waves. Graeme did his best to keep them as steady as he could. Once they reached the smoother waters, the boat meandered at a slower pace, albeit less precarious.
Hours passed, and they’d made great progress. Graeme kept their heading toward the north and realized they would soon near Campbell lands.
Kerrigan settled back and watched the scenery as they passed. “The land here is beautiful. It reminds me of home.”
The sun shone with bright rays illuminating the leaves of the trees by the shoreline. “Aye, all the highlands are bonnie. We will pass Maclean land soon and it’s best to be quiet for the Maclean’s have big ears.”
“Surely they cannot hear us from land, all the way out here.”
Graeme laughed. “Their ears are really big, lass.”
“You jest.” Kerrigan’s face titled toward the late afternoon sun and turned pink.
“I do, lass. Och your face will burn. Here, set this tartan around you and block the sun.”
She did as he bid and hummed a sweet song and sang:
There was a farmer's son,
Kept sheep all on the hill;
And he walk'd out one May morning
To see what he could kill.
And sing blow away the morning dew
The dew, and the dew.
Blow away the morning dew,
How sweet the winds do blow.
He didn’t recognize the tune, but enjoyed the melody of her voice. “Keep singing, lass, I’m enjoying the song.” Graeme slowed, his arms tired from rowing. When he sat back to rest, Kerrigan held tight to the side.
He looked high, he looked low,
He cast an under look;
And there he saw a fair pretty maid
Beside the wat'ry brook.
Cast over me my mantle fair
And pin it o'er my gown;
And, if you will, take hold my hand,
And I will be your own.
“Why have you stopped rowing? What’s happening? Are we going to tip?” Her eyes widened, and she watched surrounding waters.
“Nay, I’m just taking a wee rest. Unless ye want to row?”
“It doesn’t look hard. I will try.” Kerrigan took to the bench and the oars in hand. She pulled the oars opposite of each other.
“Lass, ye must pull them together in unison or we’ll be going in circles.”
“Oh, I see now,” she said and grunted when she pulled hard at the oars. “I’m doing it, Graeme.”
; He smiled at his suspicion she wouldn’t last long, but enjoyed her effort for it gave him a small break and enough time to regain his vigor. Twenty minutes passed, and she blew a wayward curl that hung in her face.
“This is much harder than it looks. I fear I can’t do any more.”
Graeme took the oars. “My thanks, love. I can handle it from here.”
She opened the sack containing their food, and she offered him an apple. He shook his head, but was happy she ate something.
Night would be upon them soon and Graeme thought to row to shore so they could make camp. But he thought better of it since they were now in Maclean territory. Not that his clan had riffs with the Macleans, but the Macleans aligned with the Macintoshes their most hated enemy. With the Bruce’s wars, he’d heard many clans put aside their differences for the cause. Mayhap the Macintoshes did so as well as the Macleans. Graeme wasn’t about to chance it though and decided it was best to stay aboard the boat.
He pulled the oars into the boat and settled back. “Come, lay beside me, Kerrigan. We’ll rest.”
She settled next to him and covered them with the tartan she’d used earlier. “Look at all the stars. How lovely the night is.”
“Not as lovely as you.” Graeme kissed her head and peered above.
He wasn’t weary and didn’t need sleep only a few hours to rest his arms. While he lay there holding her, he wondered what he’d find when he reached home. If his father passed, and he was too late, he’d risk his neck for the elders would surely be angry he’d disobeyed them.
Graeme didn’t want to lose his father without making an effort to show him he cared. Theirs was an amiable relationship, but neither understood what the other expected. He had an idea of his father’s wishes, albeit his da avoided him when he’d been a lad.
Returning home would hopefully give them time to come to an understanding. His homecoming was well worth the risk.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
The boat drifted toward the shore and stopped when it hit a small wall of rocks that protected the slope. Graeme took them as far as Macintosh land and rowed to the western side of the loch to avoid confrontation. He helped Kerrigan from the boat and gathered their belongings.
“It will take a day, mayhap two to reach the keep.”
Kerrigan took her satchel and one of the sacks from him. “Will we be safe? It looks daunting. The hills are much larger than those near Dumfries.”
“Aye the walk will be difficult, but we’ll take it slow.” Graeme started off, and they walked a mile in quiet, he took Kerrigan’s satchel. “Let me.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I am not tired. You must be weary of returning for you haven’t spoken a word since we left the boat.”
“I am watchful, lass. Even though we’re on my land, there are many around that might attack without provocation. We need to be on alert.”
By nightfall they’d made great progress and Graeme wanted to camp for the night. He settled next to Kerrigan and lit a small fire. “This should warm ye.” They finished the last of the foodstuff the friar gave them. Graeme was grateful for the peacefulness of the night for on the morrow there’d be turmoil and he’d deal with it when it came. For now, he contented to sit in the darkness of night with Kerrigan beside him.
Through the night, he held Kerrigan and focused on the sounds of the woods. Several animals passed by, all of which he recognized by the sound of their movements. The fire kept them away. When morn came, he grew tense, knowing within hours he’d see his family.
Kerrigan hastened to gather their belongings and joined him as he gazed the trail. Birds fluttered from the trees and alerted him someone headed in their direction.
He stopped and bid her to stand behind him. “I ken not who comes.” He unsheathed his sword and readied for attack.
Two men walked toward them. They stopped fifty feet from them and called out. The taller sentry shouted, “We saw your fire last eve. Who are you and what are ye doing on Cameron land?”
Graeme lowered his sword when he recognized Anselan and his brother Ewan. “Graeme Cameron.”
“Why I’ll be the son of a—”
“Anselan, how goes it? I’ve returned for I received a missive from my mother.”
He approached and wrapped him in a gruff embrace. “Look at ye, cousin. I almost didn’t recognize you, young Cameron. Welcome home.”
“Am I welcome? Or do I need to be on guard?” Graeme asked, feeling skeptical about Anselan’s overzealous greeting.
“Och ye might get a wee bit of gruff from the elders, but I’m sure ye can put them in their place. Come, your mother bid us to watch for you. Magaidh will be gladdened you are home.”
Graeme took Kerrigan’s hand and followed Anselan and his brother. The walk toward the keep took them less than an hour. As they approached, he noticed the tower had been completed. The last time he’d been on his land, the tower was only halfway done. Now walls secured the keep and a large gate kept intruders from invading.
He followed Anselan and even though he wanted to walk past his clan without the appearance of interest, he noticed their fixed gazes. Murmurs followed his wake, and he disregarded it, for they would be awed by his return.
At the keep, his mother walked down the steps and met him in the courtyard. She wore a long flowing cloak, and her hair cascaded her back. She looked as he remembered her. There was an expression on worry of her face for her eyes dulled and saddened. She smiled and walked forward and stopped within a foot of him.
“My son. You seem taller and your hair is much longer. How are you?”
Graeme bowed to her. His mother was the most formidable lady he’d ever met and no one within the clan or otherwise treated her disrespectfully. He daren’t call her mother. “I am well, Magaidh. You are as beautiful as ever. I received your missive and I’ve come to see Da … Is he recovered?”
She laughed under her breath and gazed about the crowd that gathered. In a low voice, she said, “He grumbles, but that is to be expected. We cannot get him to rest, but mayhap you will have better success. Come, I will take you to him.” She turned and proceeded to the steps.
Graeme reached her side. “Will the council be wrathful I’ve returned?”
“Leave them to me, son. I shall deal with the elders. You have a visit with your father.”
“Before you leave me, I want to introduce you to my wife. This is Kerrigan.”
Magaidh stopped and almost knocked him off the step he stood upon. “Wife? Oh what a bonnie lass you wed, Graeme. I shall be interested to learn of her. Now come, and I’ll see to it she is served something to eat. We shall have a quiet supper so we can be alone this eve.”
As was typical, his mother turned and continued onward. Kerrigan couldn’t get a greeting out, but there was time for that later. He was glad to hear they’d sup alone, for he wanted to find out the goings-on within the clan.
They reached the upper floor and the hallway outside his da’s solar. Graeme gave a look to Kerrigan and apologized for burdening her with his mother. She smiled lightly and waved a hand to him. He opened the door and heard nothing from inside the chamber.
Graeme closed the door behind him and peered into the large chamber. His father sat at a large table covered with parchments and drank from a goblet. His legs crossed and rested on the table top.
“Da.”
“There ye be. Come, I’ll pour ye my best wine for I’ve means to drink it all before I depart. I shan’t leave any for them.” His da lifted the wine cask and poured a good amount into a matched goblet, and bid him to take it.
Confusion riddled him, for he’d been told his da ailed, but he didn’t appear so. He wondered if there was another reason for the fabrication. “Are ye dying?”
His father laughed with a bellow to shake the rafters. “Aye, supposedly. The healer says my insides are infected, and I’d be gone within a fortnight. That was last month. I’m gladdened you are here, lad. Appears I did ye right by sending you off to
the Bruce. You gained muscle and I assume skills at weaponry?”
“Aye. I am gladdened to see you. I risked much to come here. Did you wish me to come because you are ailing or is there another reason?” Graeme took the seat bidden to take. He sat and awaited his response, unaware of what befell the man. Was the matter as grave as what he’d been led to believe?
“Aye, I ken, lad. I am dying, mayhap on the morrow, the day after, next week. Who knows? I wanted you to return before I passed. There are matters I wish to discuss, mainly MacGilley.”
Why after all this time would his da want to talk of the man he’d killed? Graeme kept silent and waited for him to expound. His father contented to sip his wine.
His impatience wore, and he asked, “Da, what of MacGilley? I have no regrets in killing him. If that is why you sent for me, you’ve wasted time. I won’t ever apologize for it.”
“I don’t want ye to regret it or apologize. I’m glad ye rid us of him. The elders were keen on him, but I didn’t want to accept him and now I ken the truth. I wasn’t his sire for he had no ties to our clan. I haven’t bespoken the truth of the matter to anyone but your mother.”
“Why is this important? I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t want to die without telling ye the truth. If I didn’t and ye came, the council would have hidden the truth. They do not ken. Don’t let them coerce ye, lad. You must stand up to them. MacGilley deceived us all and ye shouldn’t be punished for what you did. I want ye to return and be laird. You will stay.” His da spoke the order and gave no indication the subject was open for discussion.
“I cannot stay. I made a vow to the Bruce and I mean to keep it. I have over two years remaining in service. The king needs our protection; especially given he’s passionate about bringing all the Comyn supporters to justice. I’ve comrades in service and we have taken an oath to support each other until our vow is fulfilled.”
His father sat silent and set his cup down. He walked to the cutout of the window casement and peered out. When he turned, he grinned. “Aye ye always were the most stubborn Cameron and och the most loyal. Very well, lad, as soon as your service is through, you will return. Now who can stand in for you whilst you are on this miraculous fete?”
