away with my opinions and my verses?’
He threw his head back and laughed his old confident rumble. He was silent for a time before replying.
‘Do you remember the story about the MacCrimmond piper and the Fairy Bridge?’
She nodded. It was one of her favourites.
‘Well, when the piper found his way to the Fairies’ underground kingdom through the cave at Harlosh he met a beautiful woman there. Some say she was the Queen of the Fairies herself. He was enchanted by her and stayed there for what he thought was a short time. But as you know Fairy time is different from ours and in truth he was away from his people for many days. When he was ready to leave she offered him a present of his own choosing. He wanted a silver chanter. She gave him a magic one that made his fingers move like quicksilver when he played it. He stirred the hearts of everyone who heard the music he made on it. She told him, “When you dance everyone will dance with you and when you play a lament the whole island will lament with you.”
‘But, as always, when we have dealings with the Fairies there’s a reckoning to be made. She told him the day and the time whenhe would have to return through the cave to her and never leave her again. That time was some years ahead and MacCrimmond, being young, believed that the day would never dawn. So he agreed to her terms, returned home and became the most famous piper of his day. His sons and grandsons followed him as pipers for MacLeod of MacLeod, although it’s said that none of them had fingers as nimble as his own.
‘Eventually the day arrived that had been marked for his return. He bade his wife and children a last farewell and with a few companions walked back to the cave. Then he turned his back on all human kind and, playing his chanter, walked alone into the darkness without a backward glance. His wee dog, though, trotted in to follow his master. Everyone else waited silently at the cave’s mouth and strained their ears to catch his playing. They could hear both the chanter and the dog’s barks rising up from below the earth. At a spot near the Fairy Bridge the chanter fell silent but they could still hear barking. Suddenly the dog shot out from the cave with his hair all black and singed.’
Màiri waited but he said no more. ‘I always enjoy the old tales but why have you told me this one now?’
He smiled, ‘Like me, you’re impatient to change the world. We both protest like the wee dog. As you know barking at the minister got me singed in my youth. I was nearly exiled across the seas and had to pay a penance of living in Glasgow. I lost a good croft and had to settle for poorer land when we came back.’
‘So you’re advising me to do what’s expected and become a dutiful wife, even if it makes my heart shrivel within me?’
‘No. At least, not yet. You’re the Benjamin of my old age. I don’t want to lose you and Heaven forbid I’m no minister to preach to you about your duty. Maybe you’re MacCrimmond in the story, rather than the wee dog.’
‘How so?’
He drew on his clay pipe while he considered his answer, ‘No doubt the minister would disagree but I believe the Fairies are the spirits of the old folk who lived in the hills before our people came here. You can’t refuse a gift from the Fairies or they will turn against you. MacCrimmond had to take the silver chanter, whatever the cost to him. Now you’ve the gift of poetry. You have to use it. You shouldn’t become as pious as those miserable folk who’ve been converted and stop singing. That would be spurning their gift.’
He laughed and tapped her arm. ‘Anyway, we’d better go inside or your mother will believe we are plotting something.’
CHAPTER 9
Skeabost and Carbost, Isle of Skye, 1844
At first Màiri was heartened by her father’s words but the seasons marched on. Now well into her twenties, she felt as if she were standing drilling on the same spot, like those days long ago when she had
He threw his head back and laughed his old confident rumble. He was silent for a time before replying.
‘Do you remember the story about the MacCrimmond piper and the Fairy Bridge?’
She nodded. It was one of her favourites.
‘Well, when the piper found his way to the Fairies’ underground kingdom through the cave at Harlosh he met a beautiful woman there. Some say she was the Queen of the Fairies herself. He was enchanted by her and stayed there for what he thought was a short time. But as you know Fairy time is different from ours and in truth he was away from his people for many days. When he was ready to leave she offered him a present of his own choosing. He wanted a silver chanter. She gave him a magic one that made his fingers move like quicksilver when he played it. He stirred the hearts of everyone who heard the music he made on it. She told him, “When you dance everyone will dance with you and when you play a lament the whole island will lament with you.”
‘But, as always, when we have dealings with the Fairies there’s a reckoning to be made. She told him the day and the time whenhe would have to return through the cave to her and never leave her again. That time was some years ahead and MacCrimmond, being young, believed that the day would never dawn. So he agreed to her terms, returned home and became the most famous piper of his day. His sons and grandsons followed him as pipers for MacLeod of MacLeod, although it’s said that none of them had fingers as nimble as his own.
‘Eventually the day arrived that had been marked for his return. He bade his wife and children a last farewell and with a few companions walked back to the cave. Then he turned his back on all human kind and, playing his chanter, walked alone into the darkness without a backward glance. His wee dog, though, trotted in to follow his master. Everyone else waited silently at the cave’s mouth and strained their ears to catch his playing. They could hear both the chanter and the dog’s barks rising up from below the earth. At a spot near the Fairy Bridge the chanter fell silent but they could still hear barking. Suddenly the dog shot out from the cave with his hair all black and singed.’
Màiri waited but he said no more. ‘I always enjoy the old tales but why have you told me this one now?’
He smiled, ‘Like me, you’re impatient to change the world. We both protest like the wee dog. As you know barking at the minister got me singed in my youth. I was nearly exiled across the seas and had to pay a penance of living in Glasgow. I lost a good croft and had to settle for poorer land when we came back.’
‘So you’re advising me to do what’s expected and become a dutiful wife, even if it makes my heart shrivel within me?’
‘No. At least, not yet. You’re the Benjamin of my old age. I don’t want to lose you and Heaven forbid I’m no minister to preach to you about your duty. Maybe you’re MacCrimmond in the story, rather than the wee dog.’
‘How so?’
He drew on his clay pipe while he considered his answer, ‘No doubt the minister would disagree but I believe the Fairies are the spirits of the old folk who lived in the hills before our people came here. You can’t refuse a gift from the Fairies or they will turn against you. MacCrimmond had to take the silver chanter, whatever the cost to him. Now you’ve the gift of poetry. You have to use it. You shouldn’t become as pious as those miserable folk who’ve been converted and stop singing. That would be spurning their gift.’
He laughed and tapped her arm. ‘Anyway, we’d better go inside or your mother will believe we are plotting something.’
CHAPTER 9
Skeabost and Carbost, Isle of Skye, 1844
At first Màiri was heartened by her father’s words but the seasons marched on. Now well into her twenties, she felt as if she were standing drilling on the same spot, like those days long ago when she had
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