High on a Mountain (10 page)

“I’ll leave you alone when you get ready.
You’ll make me late for my wedding. If you don’t care enough about
it to get yourself ready, I don’t care if you don’t come at
all.”

“Ailean! What an unkind thing to say to your
brother,” Brìghde said. “Apologize to him.”

Ailean said nothing. He lowered his head, his
chin jutting out and his brows drawn together in a frown and stared
at Niall.

The door opened. Coinneach and Raghnall
entered. They were to escort Ailean to the church. Ailean swallowed
hard and took several quick, shallow breaths. His stomach churned,
and his hands felt damp. He rubbed them dry on his
féileadh-mòr
.

“Ready to go?” Coinneach asked.

“Yes,” Ailean said, and started out the door
ahead of them. “Since you’re not ready, you can wait and come with
Ma and Da,” he said to Niall over his shoulder.

“Ailean!” Aodh called out. Ailean stopped and
looked back.

“Yes, Da?”

“Where’s your sword? How many times have I
told you, never go about anywhere without your sword.”

“But, Da, it’s my wedding day—” Ailean
began.

“Put it on.”

“But—”

“Put it
on
.”

Ailean grabbed his sheathed sword from the
peg where it hung, impatiently strapped it on and hurried out the
door.

____________

Coinneach laughed at Ailean’s reply to one of
his barbed remarks as they emerged from the woods into a cleared
area. But the smile left his face when he saw three men with swords
drawn, standing on the path facing them. One of them was Latharn
Cambeul.

“My quarrel is not with you other men. It’s
with MacLachlainn,” Latharn said. “Stay out of the way. My men will
make sure you do.”

“Stay back,” Ailean told Coinneach and
Raghnall. “I’ll take care of this.”

The two exchanged looks. There was no doubt
he would take care of it. All the young men on the croft trained
together regularly with their swords and knew Ailean was the best.
Coinneach and Raghnall backed away, leaving him to face Latharn
alone.

“I warned you not to go through with this
wedding, MacLachlainn,” Latharn said, and he lunged forward, the
point of his sword aimed at Ailean’s heart.

Ailean moved out of reach of the blade and
drew his own. Latharn advanced again and swung his sword at
Ailean’s stomach, but Ailean stopped the swing with his own blade.
Latharn ground his teeth and glared at Ailean, brought his sword up
and slashed down toward Ailean’s head. But Ailean brought his sword
around and up, the two blades met with a resounding clang, and with
a deft maneuver, Ailean pushed Latharn’s weapon away.

The two men circled one another, Latharn
thrusting and slicing, again and again, each time being stopped by
Ailean. Even though it was cold, both men were sweating now, and
their breath hung in clouds in the cold air as they panted. Ailean
knew Latharn was beginning to tire.

Ailean grasped the hilt of his sword firmly
with both hands, raised it over his head, and, as Latharn thrust
toward Ailean’s stomach, Ailean brought his blade down with all his
might and knocked the sword from Latharn’s hand.

Latharn stood unmoving, staring at Ailean as
if he was in shock at being disarmed. Before he could move, Ailean
put the tip of his sword under Latharn’s clean-shaven chin and
nicked the underside of it. Blood trickled down Latharn’s neck onto
his tunic.

“Your chin is bleeding,” Ailean said through
clenched teeth. “Do you want me to move my blade lower and have
your throat bleeding, too?”

Latharn put his hands out and up in
surrender. “No, no.”

“Well, then, go! Go before I think better of
it and slice you into pieces. I’ve had enough of you!” Ailean
shouted, lowering his weapon.

Latharn’s hand shot out to grab his sword
from the ground, but Ailean kicked the side of Latharn’s head and
knocked him down, rolling him away from his weapon. Ailean picked
up Latharn’s sword with his left hand.

“No, you’ll not be getting this back so
easily. I may send it to you later. Or I may not.”

Latharn’s men moved forward, brandishing
their swords, and Ailean heard the unmistakable metallic rasp of
unsheathing as Coinneach and Raghnall drew their own weapons from
the scabbards. The Cambeuls stopped their advance and stood
uncertainly, waiting for orders from Latharn.

Latharn stood, giving Ailean a look of pure
hatred.

“You haven’t heard the last of this,” Latharn
said as he rubbed the blood from his chin. He looked at it, then at
Ailean. He held out his blood-streaked hand. “You’ll pay for this,
MacLachlainn.”

Latharn stalked to a nearby tree where his
horse was tied. He loosed the reins, climbed into the saddle and
started to ride away with his men following on foot. He stopped for
a moment and looked back.

“You’ll pay!” he shouted.

Ailean threw Latharn’s sword on the ground
and sheathed his own. He brushed his damp hair out of his face,
adjusted his bonnet and took a long, deep breath, trembling and
tired now that the fight was over.

“Little brother, I think that man doesn’t
like you,” Coinneach said, and the three men burst into relieved
laughter.

Coinneach picked up Latharn’s sword with one
hand and took Ailean’s arm with the other.

“Come, let’s get you to the church before the
red-haired girl changes her mind,” he said with a smile.

____________

The parson told everyone to bow their heads
for a final prayer. He asked God to bless the newly married couple,
to make their union a fruitful and happy one. At the final “amen,”
Ailean opened his eyes and grinned at Mùirne.

She’s finally mine, all mine. We’ll be happy
together from now on.

Mùirne smiled back at him, reddened and
lowered her eyes. He took her hand and led her down the aisle and
out the door.

As the couple left the building, Aodh stood
and looked around the church at the family and friends who had
assembled for the wedding ceremony. “Brìghde and I invite you to
our house for a bite of food and a dram of whisky to celebrate the
marriage of Ailean and Mùirne.”

The bride and groom led the procession to the
croft. When they arrived, they completed the Celtic marriage rites.
Ailean took Mùirne’s hand, and, following the age-old custom of
their Celtic ancestors, they jumped over the broom which had been
laid before them, signifying the leap from their separate lives
into a new life together.

Earlier, Aodh and the other men of the croft
had cleared and cleaned the barn and set up long tables there in
preparation for the festivities. The women helped Brìghde pile the
tables high with roast mutton and chicken, bread, butter, cheese
and assorted cakes, much of it gifts from neighbors. Some guests
ate in the barn. Others carried their food to Aodh and Brìghde’s
cottage and ate it there, where whisky would be served.

After most guests had eaten, Raghnall and
Niall rosined their bows, pulled them across the strings of their
fiddles and soon had feet tapping and hands clapping to the
spirited music.

Ailean took Mùirne’s hand, and the lively
dancing began. He smiled as he remembered the night of the
ceilidh
when he had wished for her to be here at his home,
enjoying the party. While he and Mùirne were dancing, Coinneach
beckoned to him. The dance ended and Ailean escorted Mùirne to her
mother’s side. He went to see what his brother wanted.

“It’s the groom’s duty to serve the whisky,”
Coinneach said. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities later to dance
with her.”

Ailean followed Coinneach’s instructions. He
went to his parents’ cottage and fulfilled his host duties by
serving whisky to those guests with a thirst. All the celebrants
stayed indoors out of the cold wind blowing off the loch, going for
a while to the house for a drink, then back to the barn for the
dancing.

Ailean wondered if the day would ever
end.

Late in the evening, Coinneach handed Ailean
a plate. “Time for the guests to give their gifts to the bride and
groom.”

Ailean frowned. Although it was a tradition
for the groom to walk among the guests with a plate, collecting
their coin gifts to the new couple, he didn’t want to do it. He
felt as though he’d be begging, as though he wasn’t man enough to
take care of his new family of two without help from other
people.

“Go on. And replace that scowl with a smile
or you won’t find it very profitable,” Coinneach said, and Ailean
reluctantly began his rounds through the crowd.

The time finally came to put the couple to
bed. Earlier, Brìghde and the other women had readied the new
cottage for the young couple. They’d laid a peat fire on the
hearth, and it was warm inside.

Mùirne’s older sisters, Elasaid and Ceana,
with much laughter and teasing, led Mùirne to her new home. They
helped her undress and get into bed, then went outside to tell the
groom’s men that Mùirne was ready.

Coinneach, Raghnall and Tòmas MacLachlainn
brought Ailean to the cottage and helped him prepare himself for
his bride. And after all the traditional pranks had been played and
all the teasing was finished, their attendants left and Ailean and
Mùirne were alone.

TWELVE

Now that he had what he’d been wanting all
these weeks, being alone with Mùirne, having her all to himself,
Ailean felt shy and at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to
say, what to do. They lay side by side without speaking for a few
minutes, staring into the darkness overhead.

Ailean turned his head toward Mùirne. As the
peat fire on the hearth burned lower, it cast a flickering glow
over Mùirne’s dainty features. Ailean’s gaze traveled from her
hair, over her face, and he didn’t wonder any longer what he should
do.

He touched his lips to her forehead softly,
as he had done on his last visit to her in the glen by Loch Lomond.
His mouth traced a trail of little kisses across her brow, down her
cheek, ending with a gentle touch to her lips. He caressed her lips
with his again. And again.

His kisses awakened Mùirne’s desire, and she
returned them ardently, put her arms around his neck, holding him
close in a fervent embrace. Her passion released him from the
restraint he’d imposed upon himself during their courtship. It
kindled a fire within him, blazing and intense. Ailean felt at one
with her as they satisfied their physical craving for one
another.

Afterward, Mùirne cuddled close to him and
laid her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms protectively
around her.

“I love you, my sweet Mùirne,” he
whispered.

“I love you, too, my dear Ailean,” she
replied, and raised her head to place a kiss on his cheek. Mùirne
nestled into the safety of his arms again and fell asleep.

Contentment and delight filled his soul and a
vision of their future captured his imagination. He saw the years
stretching ahead of them, days brimming with love and happiness,
nights suffused with ecstasy such as they had just shared. It was
too wonderful to be real, and he wondered how he had merited such
blessings from God.

He kissed the top of her head, and Mùirne
stirred but didn’t waken. She threw her arm across his waist and
drew herself closer into his arms. He smiled as he drifted off to
sleep.

The next morning, they awakened early and a
few kisses revived their passion. After their lovemaking, they
snuggled together again for a time, until sounds outside told them
others were awake.

Mùirne sat up and smiled at him.

“I love you, Ailean MacLachlainn. I love you
with all my heart. My heart, my soul, and all that I am are
yours.”

Ailean pulled her hand to his lips, afraid
that if he tried to speak, he might begin to cry, and it would not
do for a warrior to cry like a little boy.

When his emotions were under control, he
answered, “You belong to me, and I belong to you. You have my
heart, my life, in these sweet little hands.” And he kissed her
hand again.

Someone pounded on the door. “Wake up,”
Coinneach called. “You have guests. Are you going to sleep the day
away?”

Ailean smiled and answered, “We’re just going
to lie abed until you go away and leave us alone.”

“But Mùirne’s mother is waiting out here in
the cold,” Coinneach said.

Ailean sat up, pecked Mùirne on the cheek and
got out of bed.

“I guess we’d better get up and get our
clothes on,” he said.

They dressed, and Ailean opened the door.

____________

Dearshul entered and went to Mùirne, carrying
a folded white cloth. She stood for a moment and examined her
youngest daughter’s face, focused on her smiling lips and sparkling
eyes. Dearshul had never expected to see Mùirne this happy. It was
beyond anything she’d hoped for. She took a deep breath, fighting
to hold back the tears of relief and gratitude and guilt which
threatened to flow.

She hadn’t taught Mùirne the things she
needed to know about being a wife. Mùirne always wanted to be
outside, to be alone. She was different from her sisters, odd, hard
to understand and deal with. Dearshul trained her older daughters
to cook and clean, to do all the things women were expected to do.
But Mùirne didn’t want to learn those things. It had been easier to
let her have her way, and now, she was unprepared for the life
ahead of her.

Dearshul swallowed the bitterness of her
guilt. There was nothing she could do about her failure. She hoped
the happiness she saw on her daughter’s face would be enough to
carry Mùirne through the weeks of learning to be a wife, on her
own, without her mother nearby to help her.

Without a word, Dearshul draped the cloth
over Mùirne’s red curls and tied the ends under her chin. Mùirne
smiled at her mother, at Ailean. Her mother’s placing of the curtch
on her head was the final rite of their marriage. She would wear a
snowy white linen curtch from now on, to proclaim to the world she
was a married woman.