Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (12 page)

As the days grew shorter in early November, the Highlands became unusually cold and the winds howled from the northwest, occasionally bringing snow. Katherine envied Niall, who could stay away from the keep for most of the daylight hours, limiting his exposure to the ever-present Eithne. When she could leave the keep to visit an ailing villager, Katherine relished her time away, but it came at a price. On her return she faced disgruntled staff and an even more caustic than usual mother-in-law.

As Niall had instructed, and to Tomas’ delight, each day a different guardsman had the responsibility of keeping the boy well clear of Eithne. Each of them had different talents, interests, and stories, so Tomas always had fresh entertainment. To Katherine’s amusement, so did the rest of Duncurra. This was especially true on “Turcuil days,” as Tomas called them. Turcuil could strike terror into the hearts of lesser men with a simple scowl, but Tomas adored him. On “Turcuil days” he learned to wrestle and spar with a wooden sword. He also rode all over Duncurra on the shoulders of a bear, or a dragon, or whatever beast Tomas wanted Turcuil to be.

This alone provided rich entertainment for those witnessing it, but the real show came when the weather was bad or some other reason forced them to stay in the keep. Katherine finally saw why Fingal first described him as a changling, because on those days it was impossible for Turcuil to avoid Edna. Fingal and Niall hadn’t exaggerated. When Edna entered a room, Turcuil watched her like a smitten puppy, becoming absolutely tongue-tied if forced to speak to her. When she spoke to him, he turned several shades of red and mumbled or grunted something unintelligible.

After several “Turcuil days,” Katherine realized the rest of the castle staff actually enjoyed the sport of “Turcuil baiting” and created opportunities to engage in it. One morning Katherine heard Bridie say, “Edna, I’m just taking some sweet buns out of the ovens. Go tell Turcuil to bring Tomas to the kitchen.” But then Bridie followed her to the door of the great hall with a grin on her face, to watch the show. Katherine mistakenly thought his fellow guardsmen might have more sympathy for him, but if anything, they relished “Turcuil baiting” more than the castle staff. Whenever possible, the men created errands forcing Turcuil to cross paths with Edna simply for the sport of it.

It was obvious that everyone watching found the whole comedy even more amusing because while Turcuil clearly adored Edna, she seemed sublimely unaware of his affection for her. Perhaps because of this, Edna treated him with the same terse efficiency she did everyone else, and the inexplicably shy giant could not push beyond her brusque demeanor.

Katherine supposed she really shouldn’t interfere, but she liked both of them immensely. Not only did she hate to see Turcuil suffer, but she also believed Edna might welcome his affection if she knew about it. Edna had been a widow for a number of years, and even with two children and a castle full of people, Katherine frequently thought she seemed very lonely. Armed with this knowledge, the Lady decided to give the oblivious woman a little push if she had the chance to do so.

Such an occasion arose one day when Edna planned to visit the cooper. Seeing the opportunity, Katherine decided not to pass it up, so she went along, ostensibly for some fresh air and a walk. As they strode down the path, Katherine asked, “Edna, how long do ye plan to torture Turcuil?” knowing full well Edna did not recognize the effect she had on the guardsman. Still, Katherine had learned the element of surprise had value in any battle.

“Turcuil? What—what are ye talking about?”

“Turcuil. Ye know, the great bear of a guardsman.”

“I know who Turcuil is, my lady,” she said in exasperation. “Why do you think I am torturing him?”

“I don’t know why ye are torturing him, that’s why I asked ye.”

“Nay, that’s not what I meant and ye know it. I am not torturing Turcuil, as if anybody could. What makes ye think I am?”

Katherine stopped and looked her in the eye. “Ye needn’t be coy with me. Ye can’t have missed it. Anyone with eyes can see that man is mad about ye. I am just wondering how long ye plan to lead him along like a bull with a ring in his nose.”

“My lady,” gasped Edna. “I have never—surely you don’t think that I—why would—he what?”

“He is mad about ye. He absolutely adores ye. He can’t take his eyes off ye. If ye so much as twitched your little finger in his direction, he would fall at your feet.”

“My lady, ye are mistaken,” Edna said, blushing profusely. “The oaf rarely even speaks to me except for the occasional grunt.”

“He can barely form thoughts in your presence, much less words.”

“Well,” said Edna indignantly, “that hardly bodes well for getting to know him better, does it?”

Katherine laughed heartily. “And why should the course of true love run any smoother for ye than for the rest of us? A strong man who adores ye can learn to talk to ye with a little encouragement.”

“But—my lady, are ye certain? Turcuil?”

Katherine smiled and said confidently, “I am more certain of Turcuil’s affection for ye than I am of the sun rising on the morrow. Mind ye, I certainly would understand if ye aren’t interested in the man. He has his faults, and trying to get through to him would be a challenge.”

Suddenly indignant, Edna said, “Now what on earth would make ye say that? Turcuil is a fine man whom any woman would be lucky to have.” She stopped her tirade when she registered the small sly smile on Lady Katherine’s face. She blushed again, laughed, and said, “Ye are a wicked lass.”

“I’m nothing of the sort,” replied Katherine, even as her mouth split into a very wicked grin and she continued walking toward the village.

“Well, my lady, since ye are so very certain of his affections, how do ye propose I—uh—encourage him?”

Now Katherine blushed. “Are ye honestly asking me that question? I’m hardly the expert at capturing a man’s heart. Have ye forgotten the king had to force a man to marry me? Nay, I’m just showing you where the road is. Ye’ll have to find the way on your own.”

“It seems to me, having captured the heart of a hard-headed man who was, as ye say, forced to marry ye, ye might be able to share some wisdom, my lady.”

Katherine smiled sadly. “Edna, I believe the laird has grown fond of me, as I have of him, but he said himself his heart was never part of the bargain. It is different for ye and Turcuil, because Turcuil is prepared to offer ye his heart.”

“Fond, my lady? Ye and the laird have grown fond of each other? What was it ye said to me, ‘Anyone with eyes can see?’ Well, anyone with eyes can see there is more than fondness between the two of ye.”

Katherine wished it were true and couldn’t keep the sadness out of her voice. “I think ye are mistaken.”

They had reached the cooper’s workshop and Edna said, “With all due respect, my lady, I think
ye
are mistaken. Ye have captured the laird’s heart as securely as he has captured yours.”

Katherine looked doubtfully at her and Edna added, “I am surer of that than I am of the sun rising on the morrow.”

Katherine laughed as she realized how happy Edna’s words made her. If Edna could tell Katherine loved Niall, perhaps Niall was growing to love her as well.

~ * ~

That evening, after her chat with Edna, the older woman appeared to pay closer attention to Turcuil. When he entered the great hall for the evening meal, Edna wished him a good evening and asked if he would go with her to fetch a keg of ale from a storeroom. He became even more flustered than ever and blushed crimson, but as he followed her to the storeroom, Katherine noticed the small knowing smile on Edna’s face.

Later, when she and Niall had retired to their bedchamber, Niall said with a sly grin, “I think Edna has finally taken notice of Turcuil. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

Katherine stopped combing her hair. She turned to look at him. “I have to confess, I, too, was convinced it wouldn’t happen, so I gave Edna a little push.”

“Katherine, what did ye do?” Niall asked, the grin on his face belying his severe tone of voice.

“Nothing that shouldn’t have been done ages ago. Although it was plainly obvious to everyone else, Edna herself was completely oblivious to Turcuil’s affections. I just pointed that out to her.”

“Wife, I am not sure ye should be interfering in the love lives of my men.”

“Well, that isn’t what I did, is it? Not unless you have recently made Edna a guardsman? I simply shed some light on the situation for her. What she chose to do with that newly found knowledge was completely up to her.”

Niall snorted. “Turcuil has no chance now.”

Katherine glared at him. “How long would ye like to continue this little offended act, Laird? Ye are sadly mistaken if ye think I don’t know ye yourself have been—what was the word you used? Interfering? Yes that was it—ye yourself have been ‘interfering’ in Turcuil’s love life for weeks now.”

At the look of shocked indignation on Niall’s face, Katherine arched an eyebrow. “Tell me ye have not assigned Turcuil to Tomas twice as often as any other guardsman.”

Niall still tried to feign innocence. “Have I? I was unaware.”

“Unaware, were ye? And I suppose ye were also ‘unaware’ Turcuil is the only guardsman assigned to Tomas when the weather is bad?”

Niall had the good grace to smile and look guilty.

“I thought so,” said Katherine smugly. “Well, sir, ye should realize even if ye toss the right ingredients into a pot and stir, it doesn’t become soup without adding some heat.”

Niall grinned, pulling her into his embrace, “I’ll give ye some heat, my impudent little matchmaker.”

By the end of November, winter’s icy grip firmly held Duncurra. Unusually cold, even for the Highlands, Katherine found fewer valid reasons for escaping the keep, thus having to tolerate Eithne’s company for longer periods of time. Even though Niall had clearly assigned all authority to Katherine, she still tried her best to be gracious and to show Eithne a reasonable amount of respect. Some days she found the effort required to do this simply exhausting.

On one snowy afternoon after attending to all other tasks that could possibly keep her out of the great hall, Katherine finally had to tackle some needlework she had been avoiding. As she sat sewing by the hearth, she listened to Eithne criticize and complain for what seemed like hours. Katherine hadn’t been well for a couple of days. She felt more tired and less patient than usual. She could barely tolerate the forced confinement with her mother-in-law. As Eithne railed on at her, Katherine thought time spent with the unpleasant woman must surely rival purgatory. God must have given her this penance for some reason, but she couldn’t imagine what horrible sin she had committed to deserve it. Finally she stood up saying, “Pardon me, Eithne, I have to…go out.”

“In this storm? Why, of all the idiotic things to do.”

But Katherine had already left the great hall before Eithne could say more. Not taking time to fetch a heavy mantle, she pulled her
airisaidh
over her head, stepping outside the front doors of the keep. The snow fell heavily, blown by the biting wind, which easily penetrated her woolen garments. In her haste to leave, she forgot to inform a guardsman of her destination. She had no real idea where she was going anyway.

She stood on the steps for a moment, looking around, and her eyes landed on the chapel just across the courtyard. Perhaps she would find the peace she sought in the stillness there. She crossed the courtyard and slipped inside the little building, shutting the door behind her. With no fire to warm it, Katherine could see her breath in the frigid air, but without the biting wind she could tolerate the cold.

Sitting on one of the benches in the sparsely furnished chapel, she took a deep breath, inhaling the faint aroma of beeswax and incense that seemed to linger in every church. The tension she couldn’t seem to escape in Eithne’s presence slipped away, leaving her feeling calmer than she had in days. She missed this. She prayed quietly for a while. When she reached the end of her litany, she simply sat in the stillness, savoring the tranquility. She felt a holiness in simply being still that she couldn’t quite explain, but of all days, today she needed the sacred silence. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but a commotion outside drew her from her contemplation and she went to see what was amiss.

“There she is,” she heard Turcuil call, and then she saw her husband striding towards her.

“I thought ye were lost. Why didn’t ye tell anyone where ye were going? Eithne said ye went out into the storm hours ago.” Niall was cross but his voice held a note of fear.

“Well, that is a gross exaggeration,” Katherine said, “and I didn’t tell anybody because when I left the keep I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to escape and find a few moments of peace, but I am sorry I worried you.”

“Ye are freezing,” he said and, scooping her up, carried her across the snowy courtyard, into the keep, straight upstairs to their chamber. He stoked the fire in the hearth and asked, “If ye needed quiet, why didn’t ye just come up here where it was warm?” He still sounded cross with her.

“There is a difference between quiet and peace. I have been tired and irritable lately. I used to go to Mass every day and I thought maybe a few minutes in the peaceful stillness of the chapel would help. That is the only thing I have ever missed about Cotharach.”

He considered her a moment. “Would ye like to have a priest here, Katherine?”

“You mean a resident priest like Father James, not just an itinerant? Is that possible?”

“It can be arranged. Since ye are the reason we have adequate resources, the least I can do is give ye a priest if that is what ye want.”

“If it really isn’t a problem, I would like that very much.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

~ * ~

The storm blew out during the night and the day dawned clear and bright. Niall sent a messenger with an appropriate offering to the Dominican abbey several hours ride away. It thrilled Katherine when the messenger returned the next day, accompanied by Father Colm. As big and strong as any warrior, only his priest’s robes revealed his true calling. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with vitality, but his white hair and beard suggested he had at least three score years behind him.

Katherine had a room prepared for him in the east tower and he immediately became an important fixture at Duncurra. Although clearly a very spiritual man, he was warm and friendly, always more than willing to help with whatever work he could. This endeared him to the clan instantly, and it was common to see him lifting stones to mend a wall, or helping to repair a roof. If anyone hesitated to accept his help, he informed them he considered the work a “corporal act of mercy,” and in failing to allow him to help them, they would deny him the opportunity to perfect his soul. Coming from a priest, this argument sounded reasonable, and upon hearing it, the villagers nearly always accepted his help. Katherine suspected the old priest just liked to stay busy.

In the evenings Father Colm usually joined those gathered at the hearth, often telling stories that had everyone enthralled. On one of these evenings shortly after he arrived, Katherine finally learned why this gentle priest looked like a warrior. He was a warrior, or at least had been one before becoming a priest. In fact, he had been a mercenary, an extremely talented swordsman.

The youngest of five brothers, he had been an ambitious young man. He had sought wealth and glory with his sword arm. He hired himself out to whatever lord or baron would pay him the most. Travelling throughout England and France, soon he cared little about the nature of the duties assigned to him, as long as the purse that came with them was heavy enough. Because of his skill and reputation for ruthlessness, the purses became heavier and heavier.

“One day I found myself in the midst of a fierce and bloody battle. I had either forgotten the reason for the fight or never knew what it was in the first place. I was simply there to kill. I showed no mercy. In truth, my soul was empty—I had no mercy to show. I was covered in blood and gore, but none of it was my own. Opposing warriors lay dead all around me. I’m sure the stench of death permeated the air, but I didn’t notice. My broad sword was raised over my head, prepared to cleave yet another warrior in two, when for some reason I hesitated. I truly believe God stayed my hand, for in that moment of hesitation, I realized it was not a warrior standing before me.”

“Who was it?” asked Tomas, enthralled.

“It was just a scared lad, Tomas, a squire of no more than four and ten. His lord had fallen, he wore no armor, nor did he wield a weapon. In the moment I hesitated, he ran. I was horrified by what I had almost done. After that battle, I wondered how many faceless men, perhaps even boys, I had slaughtered for no other reason than to fill my own purse. Make no mistake, there are just wars. Certainly there is nobility in defending one’s home or fighting an injustice, but there was nothing noble in what I was doing. That realization shattered me. I asked to be released and I came home to the Highlands.

“Once home, I realized simply walking away was not enough to soothe my conscience. My sins haunted me for years, but I found solace in faith. That is why I eventually became a priest. I used the riches I had acquired to help those in need.”

“Can ye still wield a sword?” asked Tomas, rapt.

“Aye, lad, I can, but while I would if I had to in defense, I shall never do so again for personal gain.”

~ * ~

While she continued to feel ill and more tired than usual, Katherine loved being able to attend daily Mass once again. And she wasn’t the only one. She learned Highlanders in general tended to be very devout, so the chapel was often full.

Edna, too, attended daily Mass, often with the giant Turcuil at her side. As conversation wasn’t his strong suit, Katherine suspected Turcuil felt less self-conscious with Edna when in an environment where the only words he had to speak were the responses of the ancient liturgy.

As they neared the end of Advent, a time of prayer and fasting, Katherine threw herself into preparing for the feasts and celebrations of Christmas and the Epiphany. She ensured the entire keep was cleaned and decorated with holly, ivy, and bay. As he had promised, Laird MacLennan returned to Duncurra with a small retinue for the Christmas celebrations.

Katherine had mixed feelings about Laird MacLennan. Clearly both Niall and Fingal respected him, considering him part of the family. Yet when he had first arrived with Eithne, Katherine would have welcomed more support from him. However, when he arrived days before Christmas, charming and affable, she thought perhaps she had overreacted. Malcolm’s presence brought one unexpected but welcome benefit—Eithne focused her full attention on entertaining him. This gave Katherine a much needed respite from her sniping. Soon she wondered why she had ever dreaded his arrival.

After the flurry of activity leading up to it, Christmas came reverently. Duncurra celebrated the three traditional Christmas Masses, the Angel’s Mass at midnight, the Shepherd’s Mass at dawn, and the Mass of the Divine Word later in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, the clan celebrated with a huge feast. It had been several years since the MacIans had sufficient resources to allow for a celebration like this, so they threw themselves into it whole-heartedly. After the feast, those assembled removed the trestle tables so the music and dancing could begin.

Katherine found the dancing captivating. As a member of the Scottish Lowland nobility, in her younger years she had learned formal courtly dances similar to those performed in England and France. However, the dances performed on this Christmas night were unique to the Highlands. She had never seen anything like them and she watched the beautiful, joyful dances with longing.

Shortly after the music started, Niall, perhaps noticing her wistful expression, took her hand. “Dance with me.”

She felt acutely ashamed and without meeting his eyes, began to stammer. “Niall—I—I can’t—I would love to—but I—I don’t know how.”

“Then ye shall learn,” he said, ignoring her embarrassment and pulling her into the center of the room. She was terrified, knowing she would humiliate them both, but he only grinned at her. “Katherine, relax, it isn’t that hard.”

As he guided her through the opening steps of the dance, she desperately tried to follow him. Astonished by how well her warrior husband could dance, Katherine felt even worse about her own lack of skill. When the pattern repeated, she found she had less trouble, until by the end of the dance, although not proficient, she felt more comfortable and was enjoying herself. When the dance was over, Niall pulled her into an embrace, kissing her, much to the delight of the other revelers. She stumbled through several more dances with him before begging him to have mercy on her. Breathing heavily, she retreated to her seat at the table.

With the courage coming from a few tankards of ale as well as the urging of his comrades, she watched Turcuil pluck up his nerve and ask Edna to dance with him. Until that moment, Katherine let herself believe her dance skills weren’t terrible for her first time, but she became acutely embarrassed again when she watched the giant of a man dance the sometimes intricate country dances with ease. Noticing her discomfit, Malcolm asked, “Lass, what has ye so distressed?”

Flushing even more deeply, Katherine answered, “It is a little embarrassing that every warrior in this room seems to be able to dance, while I stumble like a drunkard.”

Malcolm laughed and patted her arm warmly. “Katherine, of course they can dance; they are Highlanders. Highland warriors practice intricate dances to help build their agility, and then they celebrate victory by dancing them. Ye have nothing to be embarrassed about. Even though these country dances are not simple, ye did very well for your first attempt.”

He leaned a little closer and, lowering his voice conspiratorially, he said “Ye know very well if there had been much room to criticize, Lady MacIan would not have missed the opportunity, but ye will notice she doesn’t dance at all.”

Katherine had to laugh at the notion that it was possible to consider silence from Eithne as praise. It did give her the confidence to try again when both Fingal and Father Colm asked her to dance later in the evening.

The merry-making continued well into the wee hours of the morning. Katherine sat by Niall watching the festivities. So exhausted she could barely sit upright, but not ready to leave the celebration, she decided she would just rest her eyes for a moment.

Father Colm sat on Niall’s other side with Diarmad, Fingal, and Malcolm, telling more stories from his young warrior days that had the other men roaring with laughter. Katherine was startled by one particularly explosive burst of laughter and raised her head, looking at the priest in confusion. Father Colm nudged Niall, inclined his head toward Katherine and said with a grin “I think it’s time ye took that one to bed.”

~ * ~

The yuletide festivities continued for twelve days. The day after Christmas was the feast of St. Stephan the Martyr. After the extended festivities of the evening before, Katherine was surprised to see so much activity in the keep the next morning. There were baskets filled with hay, salt, and oats in the great hall. Upon seeing this she whispered to Niall, “What is all of this for?”