mile up the road.
My mother stepped up to me and wrapped the hood tighter around my head. "Mind Aili and you can't go wrong," she advised me. Aili was the cook of the castle, and Mother's old friend. "And don't go prying into anybody's business but your own. God rewards those who refrain from gossip and intrigue."
"I will, Mother," I promised.
She paused and looked me over. There were tears in her eyes, and she choked on her words. "My little girl. How proud your father would be."
I smiled and kissed her cheek. "If he isn't now, I will be sure to make him proud."
She wiped her eyes and nodded her head. "All right then, off with you now before I change my mind."
My mother and brother followed me to the door. I walked onto the road and paused to turn to them. They waved, and I waved back. A small puff of smoke swept from the chimney as though my home spoke its own farewell. Then I turned my back on my past and headed for my future.
As I said before, the road led through the village. Many of the men were in the fields harvesting the last of the laird's vast store of wealth, but the women were at work outside their homes preparing food and dress for winter.
"Good morning, Muira!" one of them, a Bean Clatcher, called to me. Her husband was fortunate to be a stone mason, and he was given constant work at the old castle. "Going to the castle?"
"Aye!" I replied.
"Say hello to my old man for me, will you?" she requested.
"I will!" I promised.
"So the day's finally come?" another woman from a nearby cottage called. She was Bean Kerr, and her husband managed some land under the watch of the laird's steward, Chamberlain.
"Aye," I answered.
"Then a good day for you, and beware the laird's son," Bean Clatcher warned me.
I smiled and bowed my head. "I will."
Bean Kerr glared at the other matron. "What are you doing putting silly notions into her head with that old tale? She'll get her ears boxed off if'n she gets to telling tales around the laird."
Bean Clatcher waved her hand at Bean Kerr. "She's a might smarter than that, and knows I'm only fooling with that old story. We all know he's dead and buried."
The tale of which they spoke concerned Laird Campbell's only son and heir, Tristan Campbell. He had been a constant sight through the village for most of his life, stately upon his fine horse and incredibly handsome, but no one had set eyes on him for a good seven years. At that time the laird had taken to visiting his lands less frequently, and when he did sally forth his carriage was always bedecked in black mourning cloth.
"And I tell you there's more than stories to those tales. The laird was always a cruel man," Bean Kerr argued.
"I must be going," I reminded them.
"And God be with you, Muira!" Bean Clatcher prayed.
"And God watch you!" Bean Kerr chimed in.
I waved to them and went on my way little dreaming how the strange start of my journey would echo throughout my day.
CHAPTER 2
I left the small houses and walked through the commercial portion of the village with its shops of food and blacksmiths. The road also ran past the inn. The majority of travelers were men, and some had more leisure time than was good for them. They sat outside the doors to the large, wooden inn and leered at me as they passed. By their suits I guessed they were the livery for the lairds who stayed at the inn.
"Would you expect to see such beauty in a swamp as this?" I heard one of them say.
"Not I," another replied.
"Little mouse, are you lost?" one asked me.
I moved to the other side of the road and looked straight ahead. To acknowledge them was more than they deserved, and would only worsen matters. One of them took it as a slight.
"Too proud to talk to us?" a tall, lanky man growled. He strode across the wide, muddy road towards me. I tried to avoid his clutches, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him.
"Let me go!" I ordered him.
He turned to his companions with a laugh. "Does anyone want a kiss from the
My mother stepped up to me and wrapped the hood tighter around my head. "Mind Aili and you can't go wrong," she advised me. Aili was the cook of the castle, and Mother's old friend. "And don't go prying into anybody's business but your own. God rewards those who refrain from gossip and intrigue."
"I will, Mother," I promised.
She paused and looked me over. There were tears in her eyes, and she choked on her words. "My little girl. How proud your father would be."
I smiled and kissed her cheek. "If he isn't now, I will be sure to make him proud."
She wiped her eyes and nodded her head. "All right then, off with you now before I change my mind."
My mother and brother followed me to the door. I walked onto the road and paused to turn to them. They waved, and I waved back. A small puff of smoke swept from the chimney as though my home spoke its own farewell. Then I turned my back on my past and headed for my future.
As I said before, the road led through the village. Many of the men were in the fields harvesting the last of the laird's vast store of wealth, but the women were at work outside their homes preparing food and dress for winter.
"Good morning, Muira!" one of them, a Bean Clatcher, called to me. Her husband was fortunate to be a stone mason, and he was given constant work at the old castle. "Going to the castle?"
"Aye!" I replied.
"Say hello to my old man for me, will you?" she requested.
"I will!" I promised.
"So the day's finally come?" another woman from a nearby cottage called. She was Bean Kerr, and her husband managed some land under the watch of the laird's steward, Chamberlain.
"Aye," I answered.
"Then a good day for you, and beware the laird's son," Bean Clatcher warned me.
I smiled and bowed my head. "I will."
Bean Kerr glared at the other matron. "What are you doing putting silly notions into her head with that old tale? She'll get her ears boxed off if'n she gets to telling tales around the laird."
Bean Clatcher waved her hand at Bean Kerr. "She's a might smarter than that, and knows I'm only fooling with that old story. We all know he's dead and buried."
The tale of which they spoke concerned Laird Campbell's only son and heir, Tristan Campbell. He had been a constant sight through the village for most of his life, stately upon his fine horse and incredibly handsome, but no one had set eyes on him for a good seven years. At that time the laird had taken to visiting his lands less frequently, and when he did sally forth his carriage was always bedecked in black mourning cloth.
"And I tell you there's more than stories to those tales. The laird was always a cruel man," Bean Kerr argued.
"I must be going," I reminded them.
"And God be with you, Muira!" Bean Clatcher prayed.
"And God watch you!" Bean Kerr chimed in.
I waved to them and went on my way little dreaming how the strange start of my journey would echo throughout my day.
CHAPTER 2
I left the small houses and walked through the commercial portion of the village with its shops of food and blacksmiths. The road also ran past the inn. The majority of travelers were men, and some had more leisure time than was good for them. They sat outside the doors to the large, wooden inn and leered at me as they passed. By their suits I guessed they were the livery for the lairds who stayed at the inn.
"Would you expect to see such beauty in a swamp as this?" I heard one of them say.
"Not I," another replied.
"Little mouse, are you lost?" one asked me.
I moved to the other side of the road and looked straight ahead. To acknowledge them was more than they deserved, and would only worsen matters. One of them took it as a slight.
"Too proud to talk to us?" a tall, lanky man growled. He strode across the wide, muddy road towards me. I tried to avoid his clutches, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him.
"Let me go!" I ordered him.
He turned to his companions with a laugh. "Does anyone want a kiss from the
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