By Fire and by Sword (20 page)

“The Scottish lowlands are more like what you are accustomed to. Here, wood is used sparingly, because trees are scarce. The cottages are made of sturdy rock, the roofs are steep, with a higher pitch. Even the castles look strong and massive, cold and enduring. French and English houses look like they are made from papier-mâché—they are like toys. If you sneeze, they would collapse. They would never withstand our wind or our winters. They would crumple and blow away. And those flat-chested streets…walk them in your sleep, you could.”

Kenna looked on amazed as Josette lost herself in a laughing seizure.

“I think it is the desolate scenery that is getting to me,” gasped Josette, wiping her eyes. “I feel as if I’m approaching the village of the dead. Is this how insanity begins? You simply start laughing and cannot stop?
Mon Dieu!
I fear they will find me thirty years hence, old, withered and dry as a mummy, my eyes gleaming with madness, all utterance pure gibberish, and I will sit and grin at everyone, with an expression of cunning on my face, while I drink my milk from a wooden bowl.”

Josette struggled up and said, “
Sacre bleu!
I am so
weak I cannot stand. Between you and the
mal de mer
, I have lost what little strength I had. I am forced to go to the galley for a roll and a cup of tea.”

Colin, who had been observing them for some time, considered Kenna thoughtfully for a moment, then he, too, threw back his head and laughed.

The ship was a noisy center of activity now that the deck had been scrubbed and the planking was dry. Overhead, in the crosstrees of the masts, men were scrambling like spiders to prepare the canvas for when they reached their destination and dropped anchor.

Colin was on the foredeck of the ship, his hair a bit disheveled by the wind, as he talked to Mr. Carlisle, who was asking, “I was wondering, Captain…should we cut the rest of the mast through, so we can remove it once we reach drop anchor?”

Kenna observed how Mr. Carlisle, who had only one eye, had it focused firmly on Colin while he waited for a reply.

“Let me have another look at it, Mr. Carlisle.” And the two of them walked off together.

Alejandro was talking to an older man who was mending a sail near the gunwale, and nearby someone called out to “use a rolling hitch, not a clove hitch, you dunce!”

“Well, that’s a romantic way to express oneself.”

Kenna smiled at Josette, who looked better than she had earlier. She was holding a cup of tea and sipped it slowly.

“You look like you feel better.”

“Much better. I like this slower pace we have taken since the mast broke.”

Overhead, a sudden burst of good-natured laughter came from the men aloft, and they turned to watch Mr. Porter climb the rigging in his loose-bottomed denim trousers to arm the lead, which Kenna had learned meant to take a sounding of the water’s depth.

Unconsciously, Kenna let her gaze search for Colin, and she found him at the stern, but he was difficult to see clearly because she was dazzled by the sunlight’s reflection off the brass bell near where he was standing. She remembered seeing it being lovingly polished the day before by one of the older members of the crew, whose name she had yet to learn. By the time the glare from the bell was gone, so was Colin, and a new search located him standing to the fore of the mizzen in a deep discussion over a map Alejandro was holding.

Colin had changed clothes and now looked handsome and distinguished as a ship’s captain, dressed in dark blue pants and a jacket of the same color. The effect of it and seeing him in his own world so far removed from hers had a strange and sobering effect on her, for she knew their journey and time together were almost at an end. Once she stepped off the gleaming decks of
Dancing Water
, the fairy tale ended. The security of knowing she was protected and out of Lord Walter’s reach would vanish like sea spray, and the young, lighthearted woman he had kissed in the dark shadows would cease to exist. The moment was bittersweet, for she would always remember this man and the time she had had with him, and she would always carry the pain of regret that her circumstances did not allow this attraction they had for each other go further.

Once the soil of Scotland was firm under her foot, there would be no room for Colin or romance in her life. She swallowed and forced back the tears that banked in her eyes. She could not become maudlin or sentimental now. Now she must focus upon one thing: staying alive.

They were almost there, so she moved closer to the railing and stood on tiptoe, to lean out over the rail, in hopes of catching her first glimpse of the magnificent sight of Durness perched on top of a jut of rock, as it looked out upon the Atlantic Ocean, where the loch reached the sea.

A redthroat cried overhead, but she did not bother to look.

She did not know that Colin had returned until she saw Josette turn her head and smile, and then Kenna felt him close behind her, and without thinking, she leaned back into him, while she turned her face to the sun. She could feel the penetrating heat upon her skin, and felt, too, the warmth and the comforting embrace of Colin, holding her firmly at the waist, as if he was only helping her maintain her balance, instead of doing what she knew he wanted, to take her in his arms.

It was a nice feeling…to have a man be so close to her, and she felt a sense of loss when he excused himself, for they were about to drop anchor.

By the time it went rattling over the side and hit the water with a
plop
, the morning mist had burned completely away, to reveal the same sunny day on land that they had enjoyed at sea. Now Kenna stood at the railing
beside Josette, who was bursting with questions, while Kenna did not want to talk at all.

She felt strange….

All around her, the air felt weighted and heavy with silence, and the shadows of the past reached out, beckoning and calling her to this ancient place, in the same way her ancestors had been drawn to it centuries before.

She saw the proud face of Durness bravely facing the Atlantic, and the memory of worn stones and roofless towers came forth, haunting in a way that made her wonder. What was it that was disturbing her? Did it come from that part of her she inherited from her parents, the ancient beliefs and ideas that dwelt innately within? Or, was it something as yet unknown?

My mother was born in that stern, imposing place, she thought, as were her ancestors for centuries before. Like Castle Lennox, Durness was built as a fortress, but unlike her beloved home, it was somber and as welcoming as a cold shoulder. The wild, bleak setting was the perfect backdrop for the high window slits that peered down at her like narrow, suspicious eyes and the massive gates, closed to unwelcome guests. Its many shot holes and gun ports bespoke a turbulent past in a way words could never do. All it needed was a brooding hero and a resident ghost or two.

Who knows, she thought, perhaps in time, we shall have even that. “One would have to be determined, or insane, to go there,” she said, thinking out loud.

Josette did not answer her right away, and when she did, it was not what Kenna expected her to say. “Even when you are with someone, you are separate.”

Colin returned with Alejandro, who took the liberty of putting his arm around Josette, which caused Kenna to suck in her breath with surprise.

Josette laughed and asked, “What? Did you think I would knock him overboard?”

“Yes,” Kenna said. “Yes, I thought just that.”

Any other time Kenna would have laughed with the rest of them, but her emotions were riding high, and her mind wandered from excitement, to uneasiness, and then to melancholy.

Colin must have sensed this change in her. “Are you going to be all right with this? You know you don’t have to stay here…you can change your mind. I will take you wherever you wish to go. Just say the word and we will be under way.”

She was tempted. Oh, Lord, was she tempted, but she had come too far and worked too hard, and she would never have a future if she did not take this stand. “No, I cannot leave. I foolishly let a moment of melancholy get to me. I did not realize it would have such an impact upon me to return to both Scotland and Durness at the same time. Did I look like a lost soul banished to walk the moors for eternity?”

He stepped closer and leaned over the rail, so that their elbows touched. Behind them, the rattle of a boat being lowered announced their time together was diminishing.

Without looking at her, he said, “When I first saw you standing here, you looked like a solitary figure in a painting… Mona Lisa with the inscrutable smile, coy and enigmatic. The Italians have a word for it, you know.”

“What word is that?”

“
Sfumato
, a smoky style that creates a dreamlike mist or haze.”

“Leonardo…”

“The most skilled Renaissance practitioner of
sfumato
, according to my sister.”

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Italian, or that you were an artist.”

“That, I’m afraid, is my only word of Italian, and the only time I pick up a paintbrush is to dip it in varnish and daub the ship. But she paints, and when I was younger, she had a remarkable talent for talking me into posing for her, then forcing me to endure long and dreadfully boring explanations on the subject. Once, she had me in a dress and a mobcap, until my father saw me. She had to find a new model after that.”

“I am sure you were adorable,” Josette said.

Kenna delighted in the discovery that she not only liked this man, but also seemed to be forming a fond attachment for his family. Colin, she decided, was good for her, for the moment he appeared her spirits lifted. “Are you ready for us to go ashore?”

“Oh, yes. No one could understand how anxious I really am.”

Forewarned is forearmed.

—Anonymous.

Proverb.

W
ith her feet firmly on the sand, Kenna paused to look at the castle on the bleak cliff looming before them, and something about it made her shiver. It was also a strong reminder of the reason she was here. Now she knew all her gaiety was left behind, on the ship.

“How do we get up there?” Josette asked.

“There is a track that winds around the cliff to the top,” Kenna said. “It’s only steep in a few places.”

“There is not another way?” Colin asked.

“Yes, one that is used to bring in supplies, but it is farther to walk. This is the best way if you are on foot.”

The four of them started out, and when they reached the foot of the cliff path, they had to go in single file with Kenna in the lead. “I will go first,
since I have been here before, even if it was a long time ago.”

As they drew closer to the castle, what had been a cool morning seemed much warmer. They paused to take their breath, and to catch a closer glimpse of the twelfth-century fortress that cast its massive shadow over them. They could see now the grotesque gargoyles, terrifying guardians of the outer walls and towers, perched on the balustrades staring over the Atlantic, grimacing and crouched, as if ready to spring from their perches and pounce downward to chase intruders away.

Kenna knew gargoyles were only grotesque carvings of human or animal figures found on large structures, where gutters ran along the spine of the gargoyles and the water ran out through the mouth and fell to the ground or streets below. The gargoyles on Durness were more like monsters, half man and half beast, frightening, demon-looking creatures carved from stone.

She could remember visiting here as a little girl, and lying awake in her room in the dark of night, hearing the rain gurgle its way through the spouts as it gushed out. Her mother would tell her the gargoyles would not hurt her, that they were only ugly so they could frighten away evil spirits. Even now, the memory of it was like a spectre, white and ghostly in her mind.

It frightened her then, and with a shiver, she realized it still frightened her now.

They stumbled along, stepping over the rough
stones to wind along the cliff, when suddenly something hurled from above clipped Kenna’s shoulder before it slammed into the dust by her feet.

Colin grabbed her and fell back against the cliff, with his body covering hers, as more bits of stone fell like rain upon them, one hitting Colin on the back.

When it was over, Josette had small bits of stone down the neck of her dress, and Alejandro escaped with nothing more than dust on his clothes.

Kenna’s hair had fallen down over her shoulders, and was now sprinkled with shards of gravel. Colin pushed her hair back and dusted the debris from her face. “Let me see your shoulder.”

“It is nothing bad.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

She pulled her hair to one side, and slipped the shoulder of her dress down far enough to expose a large red splotch, oozing blood. He took a kerchief from his pocket and placed it over the wound, then impersonally rearranged her dress. “That should hold it until we get to the top.”

Their gazes locked and an electrifying moment passed between them. “Keep still and let me do something with your hair,” he said, and turned her around. Before she knew what to expect, she felt him yank something and she yelped, “Ouch! What are you doing? Pulling my hair out?”

“I was taking the ribbon out of the tangles. Now, be still and stop your mewling.” She could feel him braiding her hair, but not the way his hands trembled as he did it. “There,” he said at last, “that’s better.”

She put her hand behind her to pat the braid and found it surprisingly neat.

“Where did you learn to braid a woman’s hair?” Alejandro asked.

In unison, both Colin and Kenna answered, “From three sisters.”

Kenna rubbed her shoulder as she began to search the area around them.

“What are you looking for?” Josette asked.

“I am trying to find what hit me.”

“This,” Alejandro said, kicking his foot against a chunk of stone. “It’s just a gargoyle that came loose and you happened to be in the wrong place when it happened.”

But Kenna realized that it wasn’t just a coincidence. She knew she would have to be very, very careful from here on. “It is an omen, and that does not bode well for me,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Colin said. “It was an accident, nothing more.”

“Let’s go on,” Kenna said, ignoring his comment. “I don’t want to stand here arguing until another gargoyle falls.”

“Can you make it to the top?” Colin asked her, “Or do you want me to carry you, although there is always the chance I might trip or drop you.”

“I have managed to get this far and I see no reason why I cannot keep up with you, even with a wound,” she said, and realized she sounded curt, which had not been her intention.

Colin merely nodded, his eyes cold as he turned away.

As they started up the track, Kenna took one last glance up the side of the cliff and searched among the towers that frowned from aloft, searching for the grim stone monsters that had sent one of their own hurtling down to crush her skull, and had come close to doing just that.

The sun passed from behind a cloud and a beam of light struck her eyes, and she saw grinning monsters laughing and dancing over the steep rooftops. She turned her head and rubbed her eyes, and when she looked back, all she could see were the frowning gray gargoyles, carved from stone more than six hundred years ago.

They reached the top of the cliff, but the excitement of her return to Durness Castle had deserted her. Nothing could bring it back, nor shed a favorable light upon the circumstances of her return, nor make her disastrous destiny look more promising than that final moment when she would step into the murky darkness where shadows dwell, and meet for the last time the man waiting there for her. But for now, she focused on Durness Castle, which was to be her home, no matter that it glared down at them like a giant, menacing creature, part castle, part cathedral, part Middle Age fortress.

Colin banged the massive iron knocker, and they were greeted by a slightly humpbacked man who introduced himself as Ewen MacNab, and informed them, “I am the butler and sometime gardener, as well as having a few lesser titles. And who may you be?”

“I am Lady Kenna Lennox, Ewen. I don’t know if you remember me.”

His little gnomelike face seemed to light up from within. “Yes…yes…” he said. “I do remember you, but you were a wee mite then.”

He invited them in, remarking that it seemed silly to do so, “It being your castle, and all,” and he apologized there was no one to meet them at the beach when their ship arrived. “The castle operates with a small staff,” he said, “enough to keep up the repairs and have the castle functioning as a castle should, but with no one in residence, there is no need for a larger staff.”

They stepped into near darkness, and even after their eyes adjusted to the dim light, it was still gloomy, with only a few candles that guttered and flickered in sconces along the walls.

Colin and the others, she noticed, stood quietly to one side, offering her no support, comfort or assistance, seeming content to merely observe.

Kenna felt like some beggar who had come asking for alms, for even her friends seemed to desert her as she stood, her dress torn and her hair dusty, uncertain about her future or her presence here.

Ewen seemed to take no notice, however, and ushered them into the great hall, whose only light was the fire that had burned low in the huge fireplace, and become a bed of glowing coals.

As Kenna continued into the room, two brindled monsters leaped at her with such force she was knocked down, which put a capstone on a day that had progressed from bad to worse.

It ended better than she thought when she felt a wet nose against her cheek, for the monsters turned out to
be the castle’s two resident deerhounds, who demonstrated they were more prone to face-licking than dragging intruders about by the throat. Still, in spite of her well-placed cuffs and loud entreaties to be released from their adoration, she had to suffer the ignominy of a face washing until everyone stopped laughing and Colin helped her to her feet, saying as he did so, “You have now added a nosebleed to your mounting list of indignities and injuries.”

“If you are finished with being the chameleon and switching from friend to foe at whim, I would like to invite you to go back to your ship and polish the decks and scrub a few brass bells until you feel a civil mood approaching.”

“That would be scrub the decks and polish the brass bells,” Alejandro offered.

Kenna ignored him, drew a deep breath and gave Colin a hot look before she said, “And when you go, be sure to take your flippant friend, Echo, with you.” She was too angry to notice much, but she did catch what she thought was a faint smile that appeared momentarily on Colin’s lips.

Ewen returned with a tray and served hot tea and biscuits, which did much to quiet the flare of tempers recently displayed. It was good to sit down after the arduous climb, and the tea was welcomed by all of them.

Kenna noticed everyone had grown so quiet since her outburst, that she was beginning to feel she was in the room alone. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to understand it was up to her to break the silence.
“I apologize for the state of our arrival. It is not exactly as I would have planned or wished it to be. It isn’t a very welcoming sign, I know, to have half the roof hurled down on you before you set a foot inside, and then be chastised by Countess Gorgon.”

“Well, you did have a stupefying effect on the conversation, if that was what you were after,” Colin said. “Gorgonized to speechlessness, we were.”

“It did not bother me,” Josette said. “I was born to a nomadic, unconventional way of life. Superstition and wanderlust runs in our blood. Living in Scotland seems not so different from being a Gypsy—we tenaciously cling to our identity, and come from a strong clan system. We are also more than familiar with unwelcome receptions. Ergo, I feel quite at home among gargoyles and gorgons. Paris is dreadfully dull compared to this.”

Kenna glanced at Colin and saw his face was impassive, which made her lift her chin with determination. She would not let him know of the fearful anticipation that twisted like knots inside her, and caused her to become waspish. “I cannot say I am pleased with the homecoming, but I am relieved that you are all taking it with good humor.”

“Don’t you think you should let someone look at your shoulder now?”

Kenna rubbed the sore spot, forgotten until now.

A log fell in the fireplace, and a cool draft swept down to bring a spark of life to the flames, but they soon died away, swallowed by the glowing coals, leaving nothing behind but a chill that seemed to wrap itself
around Kenna and settle in her heart. Consumed by sadness and filled with disappointment, she felt neither of these as acutely as the despair that sliced away at the courageous confidence she had had before leaving the ship.

Colin, she noticed, had come to his feet and was leaning against a table, his arms crossed, regarding her with a level gaze. She could almost feel him picking and prodding at her brain, trying to understand her. Faith! She was incapable of understanding herself.

She wondered if Colin waited for her to say something more, but she had made such a mess of her earlier attempts, she decided silence was better than another mistake, so she said nothing.

Finally Colin pushed away from the table. “Alejandro and I need to find someone who can loan us a couple of horses, so we don’t have to make that grueling trek back to the ship.” He stepped close to Kenna and lightly touched her shoulder. “You do need to have that cleaned,” he said, “and if there’s no one here to do it, I am up to the task.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I can take care of it myself.”

“I will help you with your shoulder,” Josette said. “I forgot to mention that we Gypsies are also famous for our healing skills and potions.”

“Just don’t filthy it up with a bunch of cobwebs and snakeskins,” Colin said. “I’ve grown too accustomed to having her underfoot.”

Josette waited until Colin and Alejandro were almost
through the door before she said, “I promise to save all the cobwebs and snakeskins for you.”

Alejandro turned and blew her a kiss, but Colin offered no response. A moment later he was gone.