Highland Portrait (29 page)

“Let him go, Robbie, it’s easier for him to think when he can breathe.”  The MacDougall came around his desk and patted Robbie, still red in the face with anger, on his shoulder, unleashing him from the instinct to kill.  Reluctantly Robbie let go and once again Malcolm slid down the wall to the floor.  Robbie walked away, his fists curled white at his sides and stood by the window looking out at the bailey, wanting to know that Stella was safe, wanting to be with her immediately, lest she fall into some danger.

The MacDougall offered his hand to his brother, who turned his face away and refused the help.  He struggled alone to stand and looked at the MacDougall, the vehemence of his passion now watered with the threat of the English court.  He sputtered with unspoken vituperative, his eyes, black hollows of madness, and left the library.

Silence filled the library, the MacDougall considering what was to be done with his brother, Robbie, standing at the window, shaking with an anger so brilliant and sharp that his stomach roiled with it. Moments passed and the MacDougall walked to Robbie’s side, watching the activity outside his library.  No words passed between them but the sure knowledge of imminent crisis bonded them in their thinking.

Chapter Fifteen

“So tell me, where did you find Arwen?” asked Albert. 

“I stole her from some English soldiers.  It was right after I got here and I knew that I had to get to Kilmartin, but I needed some transportation so I took her.  It was a bit of a rats nest with the soldiers chasing me, but that’s how I met Robbie.”

They had been riding along the shores of the Bay of Oban, Arwen glad for the chance to stretch and move, but nervous about being away from Grey.  She had grown attached to him on the journey and did not like being separated from him.  Albert rode a pitch black gelding, a mountain pony with sturdy legs and a gentle temperament.

“Hmm, I always wondered where she came from.  So we have ourselves s stolen horse, eh?”  Albert chuckled to himself.

“Daddy are you going to tell me what’s happening here?”  Stella looked at her father hoping that he would relinquish some information, but knew that if he did not feel the time was right then no amount of pleading by her would change that.  Her father was a locked box of secrets and she knew better then to butt her head helplessly against his determination to keep them.

“Soon, sweetie, soon.  Let’s get down and sit over on those rocks and have ourselves a little chat.”  Albert nodded toward a small outcropping of flat rocks that bordered the shore and Stella slid from Arwen, letting the mare amble toward the grass that grew thick not far from the shore.  Albert chose to loosely tie his gelding to some saplings and then sat on the rocks with Stella, bringing his knees up, his arms wrapped around his legs.

“First of all,” said Albert. “I want to know your impression of Gregor.”

Stella knew she was being tested, her knowledge and observations under the scrutiny of the Professor.

“I’d say he has severe scoliosis, very severe, it looks like it’s crushing his innards.  He’ll probably die of some kind of organ failure and I’d say he either had some form of mild retardation, although there is no down’s presentation, or some sort of autism.”  She looked at him arching her brows, waiting for the test score.

“Very good,” he said patting her on her knee. “You realize of course, that he is treated so well because he is the Laird’s son.  If he were anybody else he would be forced to beg on the streets, would be kicked and abused, possibly hung for the ‘sin’ of his body.”  Albert shook his head thinking of the difficult life that the handicapped lead during these times.  “Elinor and a handful of servants and that garden are his whole world.  The Laird is tolerant, of course, but has little to do with him.”

“And Robbie?  How does Robbie treat him?”  Robbie’s attitude toward Gregor became an important element in her search for answers about her betrothed. 

“Ah.  Robbie treats him very well, often bringing him plants and seeds from his travels and will seek out the garden and have long one sided conversations with Gregor when he has a particularly difficult problem to manage.  I think he is generous with Gregor because if things were different and Gregor was in full health then he would be tanist, not Robbie.”  Stella smiled to hear that Robbie’s tenderness was bestowed not just on her, but on those that needed a kind heart, a gentle touch.

Albert thought about the beautiful garden and the extraordinary gardener.  “I’d say that Robbie is probably his hero.  We all like to have heroes and Robbie is hero material, is he not?”  Albert winked at his daughter, who flushed and looked out toward the sea.

“Yes, he is a champion,” admitted Stella smiling to herself thinking of the night past with her hero.

Enjoying a moment of silence they looked out over the bay, watching small fishing boats and gulls diving for food.  It was a serene and peaceful place to share secrets.

“Do you know what is happening here in the British Isles right now?  Keep in mind it is the year 1604.”  Albert gazed out into the bay, his eyes narrowed as if seeking some illusive ship due to come to shore. The sea had always filled him with longing, but for what he wasn’t sure.

Stella thought for a moment and tried to remember everything her father had ever taught her about the Renaissance.  She closed her eyes and thought about the period.

“Let’s see.  James, the Scottish king is on the English throne.  Not well liked, fond of boys, and he’s, even as we speak, supporting efforts to translate the Vulgate and Septuagint into an English bible.  This is causing some consternation because it’s generally thought that English is a pretty rude language and not fit for holy scriptures.  Right?”

“Yes, right.  What else?”  She tried to think of the really big events of the period.

“Um, let’s see.  James has brought some peace to this area.  I think he is king of England, Ireland and Scotland.  What’s it called?”  Stella dug deep in her memory. “Oh yeah, the Union of the Crowns.  He’s going to rule for about another 20 years.“  Stella was very pleased with herself, smiling and tossing small stones out into the bay. “Oh, shit, of course!  We’re in the middle of the Reformation.  Holy crap.  That’s a big deal, Daddy.”

Albert smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.  He’d always been proud of his daughters quick mind and her ability to recall facts stored from long ago periods.

“Yes, there it is.  Let me tell you how that is going to affect you and I.  From about the time of the Roman occupation these isles have been Catholic, but as you know, the Scots outlawed Catholicism about 1560 or so.  That ban has held fast in the lowlands, but the Highlands are a world apart from that and though they are ‘officially’ protestant, they still cling to the mystical beliefs and traditions of the Catholic Church.  But there hasn’t been a Catholic priest in Scotland in about fifty years and probably won’t be for another thirty or so.”

“Then what about Malcolm MacDougall…”

“He isn’t an ordained priest.  He is self initiated and is not connected with the church in an official capacity, and he holds sway through the fear of the people.  I can promise you that should the English come through here ‘Father’ Malcolm MacDougall would quickly be ‘Farmer’ Malcolm MacDougall to escape hanging for treason.  But up here, far from the Lowland government he practices his own brand of Catholicism.  Because he is the younger brother of the Laird and was passed over for tanist he may have some hostile intentions toward Robbie, and now you. I’m not sure why the MacDougall tolerates him, other than he is his brother, no matter how foul his temperament and actions.”

Stella thought for a moment about her encounter with the man.  He had been covertly hostile, keeping his eyes on her, but never saying anything directly to her.  He communicated his displeasure quite openly, but Stella couldn’t imagine how he might breach etiquette to accuse her of witchcraft, but this was the Highlands where that kind of thing was very possible.

“Ok, Daddy, will do.”  Stella, looked at her father and his clothes and smiled. “Nice threads, by the way.  Didn’t realize you were a kilt kind of guy.”  Albert chuckled and brushed imaginary lint from his plaid.

“Actually, they’re really quite comfortable, I may start wearing one when I go back.  I am a McKenzie, you know.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about, Daddy?  The witch hunter?”  Stella wanted to get as much information from her father as she could before he changed his mind or before the moment passed.

“Actually, Stella, I wanted to talk with you about your mother.”  Stella’s eyes flew open and her heartbeat quickened.  Albert had never spoken with her about her mother, other than giving her brief details.  She believed his reluctance to talk about her was because of his great heartache, but you don’t grieve for 20 years, do you?  This was the first time he had ever volunteered to talk about her mother and the hair on her arms stood straight up.

At that moment they both turned at the sound of a horse galloping toward them.  Robbie had sited them and was coming toward them at a fast clip.  Stella thought that she would never be sorry to see Robbie, but his very bad timing was a crushing blow to her.

“Here comes your man, Stella.  He looks anxious to be with you.”  Albert waved at Robbie.

“Daddy, can we take Robbie back with us,” Stella queried.

Albert stood up and turned toward Robbie. “Stella, I’m afraid you’ve asked a difficult question that is not up to me.  It may not be up to Robbie.  I had more I wanted to say to you, but now is not the time.  Later this evening, perhaps?”  Albert gave Stella his hand and pulled her up as Robbie pulled alongside them.

“Good morning, lass. Albert.”  Robbie slid from his saddle and grabbing Stella around the waist lifted her off the stones and kissed her soundly, putting her down on the sandy shore of the bay.  He clapped Albert on the back in hearty welcome and smiled broadly, glad once again, to be in the company of the two people that meant so much to him and glad to see that Stella was safe from harm.

“Albert, I must beg the boon o’ yer daughter.  I wish t’ spend time w’ her and show her the castle grounds.”

“Yes, of course, we were just chatting and catching up,” said Albert quietly. Arwen had come trotting from her grazing spot further up the shore to greet Grey, and Stella, hiding her disappointment at not having a conversation about her mother, untangled the reins and mounted her horse.  Robbie mounted Grey, turning the horse toward the castle.

“Daddy will you be back to the castle soon?” asked Stella, anxious to continue the conversation where they had left off.  Albert was still staring out at the sea, with that look that was so familiar to Stella.  He was contemplating something of great import and it concerned her.  She wondered what secrets he was keeping from her?

“Uh, yes, princess, I’ll be along shortly.  I’ll see you at dinner.”  Stella watched her father and sighed.  She’d waited a whole lifetime, she could wait until dinner.

Robbie felt the tension between the two and knew that he had probably come at a difficult time, but it was too late now to undo it.  He nodded to Albert and turned Grey back to the castle, with Stella following close behind.

They spent the afternoon exploring the castle and the immediate surrounding area, Robbie quick to point out to Stella how well garrisoned it was, that it would offer her safety in  case of siege or war.  Stella’s eyes opened dramatically when she considered that she was in a time and place where siege and war was a common occurrence.  Aside from warring clans, there was the threat of the English, although that was a few years in the future, but she felt that in spite of her great affection for Robbie, love and fear make for uneasy companions. 

Robbie was determined that he deliver her all the assurances that she needed to feel safe, that wherever he was that was her haven.  She had not spoken of returning to Texas since meeting her father and he wanted to make sure that she was happy to be with him.

Stella stopped on a number of occasions to pull out her book and hastily sketch the castle, the bay and shepherds on the hillsides tending sheep, white and fluffy as clouds.  Robbie liked to watch her draw and was doubly delighted when he saw her rendering of him sitting on Grey, relaxed, looking out over a hill toward the bay.

“Och, Stella, is this what I look like, lass?”  Robbie was grinning at the likeness, amused to see himself drawn in some detail.

“That’s exactly what you look like,” she smiled as he held the book and turned it so he could look at himself from different angles.

“I am a handsome, man,” he laughed. “Almost as handsome as this ugly horse!”  Stella laughed at Robbie’s self deprecating humor.  She took the book from him and sliding off Arwen she climbed atop a small boulder and sat overlooking the bay.  Robbie grabbed Arwen’s reins, dismounted from Grey and tied them both loosely to tree branches hear Stella’s boulder.  With soft nickering, the pair playfully nipped at one another and searched for grass.  Robbie sat on the boulder with Stella and watched the bay.  He could no longer see Albert so he suspected that he had ridden back to the castle.

Robbie sat on the boulder with one foot on the ground, the other leg bent at the knee, sitting comfortably close to Stella as she drew in her book. He leaned closer to Stella, his hand on her cheek and drew her face to look at him.  Her body immediately settled against his as if the two had been made of one fabric. Without hesitation, she raised her hands to his face in a search for the warmth and love that she now depended on. He looked down at her and sensed the fire that was consuming them both, a flame that had only grown stronger with each moment they were together, a flame that he knew was waiting to be stoked and then quenched and then, stoked again. The smile left him and his arms slid around her and he bent to her, closed his eyes and let his lips brush softly against hers. She whispered, “Ah, Robbie, I love you.”