Authors: Bob Atkinson
The glen was almost consumed by shadows when
they arrived back at
Meall An Fhraoich
. Achnacon was waiting for Andy
outside the cottage, anger and concern on his face.
“What if the soldiers had chosen this day to
return? How could you have been any help to us, to Ishbel, if you was away
yourself wandering the hills?”
Andy returned the old man’s gaze, but he
accepted the rebuke.
“And your friends away looking for you; you have
seen what those Hanoverians will do to all of us, given the chance. Whatever
was yourself thinking?”
“Ah’m sorry if ye feel Ah’ve let ye down, Ah had
things on ma mind.”
Achnacon’s tone softened. “You have made
yourself one of us now. All of you have. This is your home, if yourselfs choose
to make it so. But you must understand, to be part of a clan means we have a
chuty each to the other. None of us stands alone.”
“Ah promise it won’t happen again.”
Achnacon didn’t pursue the point. Something in the
soldier’s eyes had stirred an uneasy memory.
“Did yourself see something when you was in the
hills?” he whispered. “Was it
an adhar dearg
you saw, up there, when you
was on your own?”
Andy looked tiredly at his friend. “Ah don’t
follow…”
“The red sky,” the old clansman replied, as if
he was recounting an ancient spell. “You have the eyes of a man who has seen
the red sky.”
Andy looked at the darkening sky where once he
had seen fire. Shawnee spoke up before he could reply:
“What is it; this red sky? What is it meant to
signify?”
Achnacon hadn’t missed the look that passed
between the Americans. “It has been witnessed as long as there has been people
in Glen Laragain. The red sky is taken as a sign that death and destruction is
soon to visit the glen.”
Shawnee suddenly became incapable of speech, as though
her soul had been torn from her body.
“Where… ah, where is this red sky usually seen?”
said Sam hoarsely.
“Time and again it has been seen at the
graveyard,” Achnacon replied, his attention still drawn to Shawnee’s horrified
face.
“D’you know of anybody who’s seen it? Anybody we
can talk to?”
The old clansman looked intently from one to the
other. “ ’Twas but ten days ago the vision was shown to myself, as I stood by
the graveyard.”
“That’s what ye were talking about the other
day,” Andy recalled, “when ye said ye were shown the signs.”
Achnacon nodded unhappily. “Who could have known
it wass more than chust a legend? But I told no one. I was afraid people would
take to the hills in fear. I was afraid of what might befall the older folk, up
there, at this time of year…”
He stared at the young faces before him; at his
friend, Andy, who appeared to have seen a vision of hell. To the strange couple
from the Americas, who knew more than they were willing to admit.
“Yourselfs will not say to any of my people;” he
told them anxiously, “that I had been shown the vision and did not tell. None
would understand. All would think Achnacon had betrayed them…”
“Can y’describe what it was y’saw?” Sam asked.
Achnacon shook his head. “I have said too much
already. I think myself ’tis best these things be left alone.”
“Was it like the sky was on fire; as if the
flames were coming from the west?” Shawnee had found her voice again. “Like the
earth had turned brown and dead; and there was like a circle of blood around
the sun?”
Achnacon stared intently at the young woman.
“You have seen it,” he whispered.
Shawnee eyes were as wide as a possum’s. “An
ajar jerag; you guys have even gotta name for it…”
“When? When did yourselfs see the red sky?”
“Three days ago, at the top of the glen, near
the graveyard. Just before… the massacre began.”
“Two times in the space of chust two weeks,”
Achnacon reflected in awe. “It has been thirty years and more since the vision
was last seen, and now two times in as many weeks. It was a warning of what the
Hanoverians planned against ourselfs; a warning which a foolish
bodach
chose not to heed.”
In the fading light the old man looked grey and
ill. Shawnee took hold of one of his calloused hands, the shock still visible
on her own face.
“They’re the ones responsible for what took
place; those bastards down there in that fort. God only knows how these people
woulda got through this if it hadn’t been for you. Hell, you’re like a father
to them, to all of us.”
Achnacon blinked in surprise at the passion and
the language of the woman. “The Lady Shawnee is too chenerous,” he mumbled.
The clachan of cottages was fading into
darkness, the glow of peat fires shining faintly through the tiny windows of
each house.
“Yourselfs will be tired and hungry,” Achnacon
remembered. He ushered his guests towards the cottage. “Come, the lassies
prepared enough food for the wake to feed the whole of Lochaber.”
Andy hesitated at the entrance to the cottage,
recalling what he had seen from the ridge.
“There’s a lot of activity at the fort; ye know
that don’t ye? Fresh troops arriving. Supplies being unloaded by boat.”
Achnacon nodded sombrely. “Young Donald has the
same tale. I fear ’twill not be long before Glen Laragain again feels the
displeasure of his Royal Highness.”
“It’s gonnae be different this time. This time
we’ll be waiting for them.” Andy’s voice was calm and reassuring. Gone was any
trace of self-doubt.
“Way t’go, Andy,” Shawnee added. “I reckon we’re
gonna have one or two nasty shocks waiting for those guys if they’re stupid
enough to come back.”
“Whaddya mean ‘we’?” Sam wanted to know. “Listen,
lady; long before the shit hits the fan I want you outta harm’s way. The women
and kids will need to be got to safety. Wherever they’re gonna be put, I want
you along with them.”
“Y’can want whatever the hell y’like, Kramer,”
she replied firmly. “I’m gonna be where I can do the most good. And there’s no
point us standing here arguing about it.”
Andy had considered intervening on Sam’s behalf,
but the tone of Shawnee’s voice persuaded him otherwise. As he made his way
into the cottage he heard Sam grumbling behind him:
“We’ll see, lady. We’ll see…”
Achnacon remained outside, staring fixedly at
the spot where the American woman had stood only moments before. He could not
have been more shocked if
an adhar dearg
had reappeared before him. It
was foolish of him not to have realised it before; but he knew now, it had been
the Lady Shawnee’s voice he had heard moments before the vision had
disappeared.
‘
There’s no point us standing here like hogs
in a slaughterhouse
,’ she had said.
The message had long since become clear. He’d
had a premonition delivered through the voice of a woman he had yet to meet;
the voice had tried to warn him about the terrible plans that had been laid
against his people. It was a warning he had chosen to ignore. Achnacon had
intended to dine with his new friends, but in that instant he lost all
appetite. He closed the door to the cottage and walked off into the night.
As Shawnee, Sam and Andy sat down at the table
they noticed Alistair’s corner was empty.
“I hope everything’s okay,” said Shawnee. “He
looked kinda upset after his bust-up with Mary.”
“Did anybody see if Mary came back?”
Sam shook his head. “Last I saw of Alistair he
was downing the old guy’s firewater. I don’t think I saw Mary again after she
sang that sweet little song.”
“Ah’m sure it’ll all sort itself out,” Andy
murmured. He glanced at the door, surprised Achnacon hadn’t followed them into
the cottage. Perhaps he had other matters to attend to.
“What the old guy was saying about the red sky;
that’s what you two saw, isn’t it?”
Shawnee stole a glance at her partner. “I take
it Sam told y’all about the things we saw during that hour or so before everything
went all to hell?”
Andy nodded.
“What Sam and me saw that day; these people have
been seeing visions of the same thing, down through the centuries. It’s just so
amazing, y’know?
An ajar jerag
; that’s what they call it. Is that not
the weirdest thing?”
“Ye don’t think what you saw was just a vision
as well; a glimpse of the future?”
Sam shook his head. “What we saw was no vision;
it didn’t just appear and then disappear again. We watched it grow and develop
like some kinda weather system.”
One of their hosts coughed gently to announce
her presence, and began to lay plates of food at the table. There was cheese
and butter, as well as bannocks and oatcakes, hot from the griddle. There was
also a stew, made from the remains of the barbecued calf. She returned with
three sizeable bowls, which were placed in front of her guests.
Daintily Shawnee filled her bowl with cheese and
butter, and a selection of griddled hotcakes. “Y’know, Sam, it’s a weird
coincidence that this vision of theirs is seen near the old graveyard, where we
first saw that red sky.”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Sam spoke
around a mouthful of veal stew. “Other than you and me, who else was in Glen
Laragain that day?”
“Nobody, I guess. Why?”
“Then other than you and me, who else stood by
that graveyard and watched that nightmare unfold?”
“I gotta feeling we’re gonna be treated to one
of the revelations according to Sam,” Shawnee said, trying to maintain some
dignity through a mouthful of buttered oatcake.
Her partner snorted. “Remember that story I told
y’about Gettysburg?”
“Sam camped out on Gettysburg battlefield with
two of his buddies,” Shawnee explained. “Sam and one of the other guys watched
two Confederate soldiers materialize around their campfire.”
“It sounds dumb when it’s just blurted out like
that,” Sam frowned, “but I guess that’s about the size of it.”
“What’s this gotta do with the red sky?”
Sam shovelled another spoonful of veal into his
mouth. “I told y’at the time those soldiers we saw were looking in our
direction, like they were talking to me and Ralphie.”
“Yeah, you reckoned you and Ralphie had created
some kinda coincidence between two time periods.”
“That’s it exactly. I figured we saw what we did
because we sat in the exact spot occupied by two other Confederate soldiers, so
we were able to look through their eyes and see what they saw.”
“Are you saying the same sorta thing has
happened here?” asked Shawnee. “That everybody that’s ever seen an ajar jerag
has made some kinda connection with you and me?”
“We were the only ones who watched that sky
developing for real. It seems obvious all those people that have seen this
vision of the red sky have been looking through our eyes, seeing what we saw
that day…”
“Oh my God, that is so disgusting,” she mumbled.
“Dead people, looking through your eyes; it’s like being possessed.”
“It only seems to happen in certain places…” Sam
came to an abrupt halt. He began to gag, his face turning a violent shade of
red. He gagged again, noisily, before coughing something onto the table. The
object rolled towards Andy, who caught it and held it between thumb and
forefinger.
“It’s a musket ball.”
Sam cleared his throat, his face beginning to
regain its normal colour. “It’s a what?” he wheezed.
“A musket ball. Ah wondered why they’d butchered
a calf for the wake. Their cattle were the only currency these people had; they
didn’t usually eat them. This one mustae been shot by the soldiers.”
He rolled the ball across the table to Sam, who
picked it up and examined it.
“Whaddya make of that, huh?” He studied the
musket ball for a few moments, and then with a philosophical shrug popped it
into his sporran and continued eating. Shawnee looked at her compatriot, a
wedge of buttered bannock perched daintily in her hand.
“
Bon appetit
,” she told Sam as he
manoeuvred another spoonful of veal into his mouth.
Andy had been awake for some time,
listening to the wind sighing around the old house, like something alive that
was drawn to the souls within. Occasional gusts would make their way under the
door, or through the thatch, drawing swirling patterns in the smoky interior.
It was strange Ishbel hadn’t shown up yesterday.
Perhaps her father had sent the family to the shielings until the crisis was
over. Perhaps she
had
been here, while he’d been wandering the
wilderness like the doomed Messiah, confronting his demons. If so, he would
need to grovel to more than Achnacon today.
Andy had begun to drift off to sleep once more
when the sound of raised voices dragged him back to consciousness. Two lassies
beside the peat fire were talking excitedly to one of Achnacon’s young scouts.
The boy was highly agitated, and had clearly not called in for breakfast.