Authors: Jessa Hawke
Soon, Dhugall and Fingall were walking apace towards the village walls. Protected by high wooden barricades, the hilltop collection of huts afforded a nice view of the North Sea. Once, Norse and Danes had come to raid these hills and taken over the region. The North Men had long since faded into the genetic makeup of these people, Irish Gael and Scandinavian alike eventually displacing the former Picts and becoming known as the Scots. It would be many years before Bodhuvan or much of this region would consider itself Scotland, but they definitely shared more in common than the people of the Lowlands or, worse, the English.
“You’ll see you’re wrong, brother.” Dhugall assured Fingall as they approached Fingall’s outlying home. The young man had inherited the family’s cattle, while Dhugall had a more modest holding not far away. “No one looks forward to putting on the helmet and aketon more than I, but I’m telling you, they don’t dare take up arms. MacKay’s army is too great.”
“Aye, we’ll see about that.” Fingall said, sounding worried. “I expect we’ll know soon enough if it’s time for more bloodshed. Pointless though it’s sure to be.”
“I’ll leave you alone with your cattle and fishing, brother. Some of us have better things to occupy our time” Dhugall said, and just to goad him called over his shoulder. “My Murron has a cousin coming to stay with us, you know. Come round to meet her! Perhaps you’ll take a shine to her.”
Fingall scowled. “Stop trying to marry me off. I prefer to be on my own, and you know it.”
“Aye.” Dhugall replied, waving and smiling as he walked away. “Alone with your cows.”
###
Despite ribbing one another, the brothers were fond of each other and each other’s closest living kin. When the day came around that Murron’s cousin was in town, she reminded her husband to reinvite Fingall to supper. “He’ll be around, woman.” Dhugall had reassured her as he dressed in the morning.
“You know he’s prone to distraction. You’d best go round and remind him again.”
“Peace! I’ll do as you say.” He grumbled before leaning over in their bed to steal a kiss from her. “I always do, don’t I?”
“If you did, there’d finally be peace in this house for sure.” She scolded, but smiled as she did so.
The day shone brightly, and the people of Bodhuvan went about their daily work. It was rare that people such as Dhugall, Fingall, and Mártainn could find the time for fishing or other leisure activities, and this sunny day was no different. Dhugall had been tasked with rebuilding a wall by the elders of the village, and later he’d have to care for the horse and tend to his family’s modest plot of land. Mártainn apprenticed in the shop, Fingall tended his cattle, and Murron had made the day laundry day. She was out with a few women friends of the village when she spied her cousin Jocelyn in the company of a pair of travellers riding into the village.
“Joss! Down here!” She yelled from the river. Her friends looked up and spotted the lean, fair-complected girl riding a roan horse and exchanged looks. They weren’t overly eager for their menfolk to spy the young beauty.
Jocelyn stopped her horse while the man and woman in her company politely paused, gazing down at the women with unconcealed disinterest. “Cousin! I have arrived at a bad time, I see.”
“Not at all! You’ll find Dhugall up the road a bit. Have him take care of your horse and come share the latest word from Inverness with us. It’s been too long, and it will be a pleasure to share your company.”
“I’ll be glad to,” the pretty young woman agreed, “And I’ll help with the washing up.”
“No you won’t, not while you’re my guest.”
“I’m family, cousin. No need for such things, and I don’t mind getting my hands wet.” Jocelyn insisted.
When she returned, she was as good as her word, scrubbing and soaking the clothing in the big wooden buckets the women had set up alongside the riverbank. As she shared the latest news from town, one of the shyer women in Murron’s social circle spoke up. “Pray tell us, who were those two accompanying you?”
“A couple kind enough to escort me to the village. The man is a messenger and is delivering some official word to the villages from the Laird. I can’t say what it is; he would not speak of it with the likes of me.”
“You mean with a woman.” Murron murmured. “As though we were incapable of understanding political notions if they were put to us. These men think treat us as children, yet who is it they run to to nurse a little cough or tend to their scratches which they consider great war wounds?”
Jocelyn laughed. “You’re still as full of vinegar as ever, Murron. I’ve missed it about you.”
“I shouldn’t wonder, trapped as you are alone in that house with no one but your mother to speak to.” Murron mused. “And is she any closer to finding a mate for you, I hope?”
The young woman shook her head. “The dowry was lost to pay debts. None will take me, though I will admit I have not tried so very hard.”
Some of the women looked scandalized at this, but Murron gave a grim nod. “It may be security some seek, but I believe that if any woman could make her way in this world without a man, it would be you, my cousin. Always the independent minded, I should say. Your love of independence reminds me of someone else I know.” She said, with a sly grin. “But I must say, just don’t surrender yourself to a cloister! You’d be wasted there.”
“Perish the thought.” Jocelyn laughed.
“Besides, if you aren’t entirely… well, speak of the very devil. I was to tell you more of the man I spoke of earlier, but here comes now.”
The brothers were, in fact, walking down the road together sharing their lunch as was their custom, arguing as usual, but with less vigor and in a more amiable way than the day before. Spotting his wife, Dhugall gave a wave, but continued his conversation. Fingall, on the other hand, after glancing in the direction of the washing women and his sister-in-law, gave a second look. His distracted look was notable enough that Murron sidled over to her cousin and ribbed her.
“That’s the one, see?” She whispered conspiratorially. Jocelyn tried to keep her eyes down on the washing, not to appear immodest, but couldn’t help stealing an occasional peek. The man was fit, with long, brown hair, a neatly-trimmed beard, and a stride and manner of confidence about him. She didn’t want to admit she was drawn to him, but when their eyes coincidentally met, each shared a smile that passed between them as lightning in a storm.
“Enough!” Fingall finally said. “I’ll talk to the man tomorrow, but the dispute remains. He’ll not be content until he’s encroached on all my land. You’ll come with me tomorrow?”
“Aye, and the village elders. We’ll have it settled at last, I hope.”
“Good. I’ll.. I’ll see you at supper.” Fingall set off back in the direction of his farm, and Dhugall lingered, looked to his wife, gave a thumbs up, and set back to his own work.
“We’d best finish here and start in on supper, then.” Murron warned her cousin. “There’s plenty to do before those two meet up again, and I’ve no mind to have them bicker and in a foul mood because they’re hungry. As am I, come to think of it.” She noted.
###
The small cottage of Dhugall and Murron MacAllarran was soon crowded. Besides the two children, Dhugal, and Morron in the two room building, Jocelyn was helping Murron with supper and Fingall was glancing nervously between the fireplace where they were working and anywhere else his eyes settled. The men were occupied in discussing a land dispute, while the women mostly stayed quiet or worked; but all but the children were acutely aware of the unspoken tension in the room between the two guests.
“So, brother.” Dhugall said during a lull in the conversation, “Are you putting your mind to that earlier matter we discussed, by any chance? Is it crowding your thoughts even a we speak?”
The man’s playful smile was merely a hint under his reddish beard, but Fingall knew it well. Murron recognized the tone and, guessing at the conversation, smiled at her husband’s jibe.
Fingall shifted nervously in his seat. “I prefer we focus on my case. You know it’ll be settled tomorrow.”
“So it will be. But surely, you aren’t a man whose only focus is on money, land, and cattle? I’ve never taken you to be so.”
“And so I’m not.” His brother replied with a touch of irritation. He’d tried to maintain a proper and civil tone through the discussions in the company of Jocelyn; he didn’t want to be seen as a hothead. But his brother’s ribbing was annoying.
“Then surely, you’re given to other considerations in life. The simple pleasures. Take for instance, marriage.”
“Ah, Dhugall, enough now.” Fingall finally let his displeasure show, folding his arms and turning away.
“Now, I’ve heard that Lowlanders and Englishmen demand a dowry for marriage. But I’ve always thought you had a romantic streak about you, that you’d marry first for love. Am I right, my dear?” He asked, including his wife in the conversation. “Do you think my own brother would let his heart settle him down rather than a keenness for gold and treasure?”
“I should think that were so.” Murron suggested, agreeably enough.
“And what do you think, cousin Joss,” Dhugall prodded, “What think you of a man who would place his heart’s desire above a bit of property?”
She turned bright red as she stirred the pot over the fire. “I’m sure I do not know Mr. MacAllarran well enough to make such judgements. It seems an improper thing to ask.”
“Well, in principle, cousin. Would you not agree it is better-”
Fingall cut him off. “Oh, leave her be now, brother. I’ve never said I needed a dowry or that it had anything to do with my settling down. I wouldn’t mind… that is to say, I shouldn’t… you’ve gone and put me out of sorts when I should be settling my mind to arguments for tomorrow. Let’s not go on about matters that are not so pressing.”
They went back to their discussion, and when dinner was served, the four adults exchanged news and tidings from the village and from Jocelyn’s home in Inverness. Despite resenting being pushed into discussions of love, Fingall couldn’t help looking up from his meal and catching a glimpse of the woman at the opposite end of the table. For her part, she was doing much the same and the few few times their eyes actually met, they both quickly darted away, not wanting the other to know what they were up to. Yet, feeling somewhat bolder, Fingall caught and held her gaze on the third time, drawing a smile from the corner of her lips which he returned.
After the meal, the women cleaned up the mess while, as they usually did, the men did chatted with one another. As Jocelyn cleared his bowl, Fingall felt her hand brush against his. It felt like a charge racing through his body, the subtle warmth and touch sparking his interest. He wanted it to last, but it couldn’t and when she broke away he felt a strong desire to take her by the hand and tell her how he felt.
The time to leave was near at hand, and he found he didn’t want to go. But as he made ready, Jocelyn caught his eye once more.
Knowing his customs, he took on an air of formality. “Brother, I wonder if your wife’s cousin would wish to go for a walk with me. Accompanied by your good wife, of course.”
Dhugall nodded his assent. “It is a good night for a walk. Let’s the four of us walk along the Loch after the children are in bed. Murron?”
“Sounds lovely to me.” She enthusiastically agreed.
Jocelyn and Fingall walked out in front of the married couple, keeping a respectful distance from one another. They started off quietly enough, both too shy to say much. At last, Fingall started things off by asking, “How long will you be visiting us in Bodhuvan?”