Epilogue #2
“Do they never get tired of that one?” Freyja ruffled Archie’s hair.
“It doesn’t matter how many times I share that story with them, they always say no one tells it as well as Auntie Roisin.” Isolde rolled her eyes and sent her sister a smile.
Roisin looked at Hugh, who sat beside her, gently stroking Innis’s hair. “I’m always happy to hear that tale,” he said. “I might not understand what she meant by her edict, but at least I know for sure she wasn’t cursing yer bloodline.”
Even the rest of the men, Clyde and Patric and the faithful warriors who had served Amma for so many years, fell silent, although they had all heard the tale many times.
And so she began the familiar story, the one both Amma and her own mother, Ingrid, had shared with her and her sisters so many times when they’d been young.
How the fierce Pict queen and her women warriors had slaughtered the monks who wanted to take her Isle’s history from her, and how she had ended up following the mystical lights on the sea to a future they could only speculate upon.
And as always, she finished the tale the same way she had since the first time Hugh had listened to it, that day in the camp.
“But as long as we remember them and tell their tales, no one truly dies.”
Innis had fallen asleep, and Hugh tenderly lifted her in his arms to take her to bed.
He often joined her when she tucked them into their beds and his open devotion to their bairns melted her heart every time.
So many men appeared to want little to do with their offspring, and yet both William and Alasdair were as involved as Hugh.
She and her sisters had been lucky indeed in their husbands.
Later, when all the bairns were safely asleep, the servants brought in hot drinks, and they had scarcely settled around the fire when the door burst open and Miles stood there, frost glittering on his thick hat and surcoat.
A servant hovered behind, clearly appalled that Miles had stormed into the castle without proper introduction, but Hugh assured him all was well as Freyja ran to Miles and took his hands.
“Great Eir, ’tis good indeed to see ye, Miles, but at this hour? We were not expecting ye for another few days. Is all well with ye?”
Miles pressed Freyja’s hands against his chest, but there was a wild gleam in his eyes as he cast his gaze around them all.
“No.” His voice was hoarse, and along with Isolde and Amma, Roisin hastened over to him. What on earth had happened?
Hugh thrust a tankard of warm mead in his hands, and Miles gulped it down, but his hands were shaking and alarm streaked through Roisin as she exchanged glances with her sisters.
“Come, sit by the fire.” Alasdair guided Miles across the solar before he and William tugged the surcoat from his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
Miles thrust his tankard at Hugh, who refilled it, and Miles ripped his gloves off before wrapping his hands around the steaming mug. “Sgur Castle has fallen and the village razed.”
Horrified, Roisin stared at him as she and her sisters clutched each other’s hands. But before they could say anything, Amma rose from her chair.
“What?” Her voice was low, but it seemed to echo around the solar. “Miles, explain.”
He drew in a shuddering breath. “We saw the fires spreading across the isle from Kilvenie, but by the time we arrived, there was nothing we could do.”
“Who the hell would attack Eigg in such a manner?” Hugh sounded shaken.
Miles shook his head. “We can only surmise ’twas the MacLeods and their cursed feud.”
“Christ, Miles.” Alasdair gripped his shoulder. “We’ll ensure supplies are taken to Eigg first thing in the morning for the villagers.”
“Aye,” William said. “And we’ll rebuild the village, whatever it takes. What of the castle? Was it badly damaged?”
A fearsome frown slashed Miles’s brow. “Do ye not understand? The villagers have gone. There is no one left.”
Silence throbbed in the air, and Roisin pressed her fingers to her lips as the full horror of what Miles was telling them sank into her soul.
“God help us.” Amma stood before Miles, her fingers clasped over her heart. “No, surely that cannot be.”
“Amma.” Isolde wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Sit down. We will deal with this. Do not distress yerself.”
Amma pulled free and swept her glance over the three of them, and an eerie shiver chased over Roisin’s arms. “My bairns,” she said but although sorrow filled each word, her voice was strong. “We have been so wrong.”
“What do ye mean?” Roisin’s voice was hushed, but somewhere in the back of her mind, an inkling of understanding glimmered. If only she could bring it further into the light.
And then Amma spoke. “The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyond quietus.”
Roisin gasped softly and beside her Isolde hitched in a sharp breath as Freyja pressed her hand against her chest. The Deep Knowing was not something that could ever be said out loud.
It was whispered between mother and daughter, a secret edict from the Pict queen that had been held sacred for over nine hundred years.
To be sure, she had shared it with Hugh.
And she knew both Isolde and Freyja had confided in their husbands, too.
Yet Amma had just stated the revered Deep Knowing in front of a multitude of people and no matter how dearly they were loved, they were not supposed to know of the Pict queen’s final decree to her daughter.
Amma held out her arms and Isolde and Freyja took her hands, and Roisin held her sisters’ hands so the four of them stood in a circle in the middle of the solar.
“The Deep Knowing was never about the MacDonalds of Sgur remaining on the Isle of Eigg.” Amma’s voice was hushed.
“’Twas about ensuring the bloodline of the isle herself would not perish. ”
“Are ye saying the Deep Knowing was telling us we should leave the Isle?” Isolde sounded unnerved by the possibility.
“That cannot be.” Freyja glanced at her sisters, skepticism clear in her eyes. “How could anyone, even our formidable Pict queen foremother, know this terrible devastation would unfold?”
“Do ye not recall, Frey, the tales that she was a druid from ancient times?” Isolde gave a shiver. “Maybe she did see something, after all.”
“The power of three,” whispered Roisin, and her sisters and Amma gazed at her, uncomprehending. “Don’t ye see? We were the first generation in nine hundred years when three daughters of Sgur were born. ’Twas a portent that the Deep Knowing was coming to pass.”
“I think yer imagination might be running away with ye.” But Freyja didn’t sound so sure of herself now, and ancient comprehension dawned in Amma’s eyes.
“After my beloved Ingrid and yer dear father died,” Amma said, “I was, as ye know, plagued with the conviction that Isolde should wed William Campbell. I knew it meant ye would leave the Isle, and yet it did not feel wrong. After all, two daughters of the isle would remain at Sgur.”
“But then Alasdair arrived.” Freyja’s smile was sad as she looked at her husband.
“Aye. And again, I knew ye had to leave, even though it went against everything I’d believed in my entire life. Because, after all, Roisin was still there to fulfill the Deep Knowing.”
“But ye never did see Hugh in my future.” She had always wondered about that, but when she’d asked her, nearly ten years ago now, her grandmother had no answer for her.
But now she gave a slow nod. “I did not,” she confirmed. “And over the years I have pondered this. And I’ve come to believe it’s because ye and Hugh were not on Eigg when ye needed to decide which path yer fate lay.”
She caught Hugh’s unwavering gaze, and she understood.
Both Isolde and Freyja had wed on the Small Isles and although they loved their husbands, at the time their marriages had been something they could not avoid.
But she and Hugh had been bound by no such constraints.
Their future had hung in the balance until the very end, and even then, it hadn’t been certain whether they would return to Eigg or remain in the Highlands.
A shiver inched through her as she realized her uneasy suspicions had always been right. For while Hugh had offered to return to her beloved isle, it was she who had decided they belonged in Argyll.
“’Tis terrible.” Freyja’s lip trembled, and Amma nodded.
“Aye. It is. But if I’d had only one granddaughter, I would never have sought that alliance for Isolde, no matter how many dreams or visions plagued me. And many in this solar would have perished alongside us today.”
Shock slithered through Roisin and as one she, Isolde, and Freyja slowly looked around the solar. It was true. Patric and Clyde would never have left Eigg, and nor would Amma’s loyal warriors.
Grear would have perished, too.
“Blessed Eir.” Freyja’s voice was hushed. “Laoise and her lasses. And her sisters and their bairns, too.”
“And none of our bairns would be here.” Roisin’s voice shook, and Hugh came to her and wrapped his arms around her. As if in response her babe kicked, reminding her of the bairns who had not yet been born, but whose heritage also came from Eigg.
“I always thought the Deep Knowing meant our bloodline could not leave the Isle.” Isolde released a deep sigh, and William took her in his arms.
“I thought our bloodline would die if we left the Isle.” Freyja groaned and pressed her hand against her stomach. Alasdair was instantly by her side, and she rested her head against his shoulder. “What a foolish notion. I cannot fathom how I kept believing it, even after all the babes were born.”
Roisin had never believed in the Deep Knowing the way Amma and her sisters had but now was hardly the time to share that. It wasn’t as if it could change anything.
“The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyond quietus.” Amma quietly repeated the Deep Knowing, and it took on an entirely different meaning from the one they had always been taught.
“If the daughters of the Isle hadn’t left, the bloodline of Eigg herself would have perished.
But her bloodline will prevail because the three of ye forged a new life here and took many from the Isle with ye. ”
“And our Pict queen foremother will never be forgotten for as long as we share her story.” Roisin threaded her fingers through Hugh’s. “And one day her bloodline will return to her Isle.”
Only the comforting crackle of the fire broke the silence that fell, and Roisin leaned back against Hugh, suddenly feeling exhausted.
And then Freyja cleared her throat. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but I think maybe I should. It appears there will be yet another bairn born next year who will carry the bloodline of the isle in their veins.”
Roisin’s exhaustion vanished and she and Isolde hugged their sister.
“We suspected as much,” Isolde said.
“’Tis happy news to take into the new year,” Roisin added.
“As long as this babe does not turn out to be another set of twins.” Freyja gave a weak smile, and Alasdair gently lifted her chin and kissed her.
She leaned against him and eyed her sisters.
“I confess it would be nice to have a daughter to share the Deep Knowing with. Even though,” she hesitated.
“It’s not a secret anymore. It didn’t even mean what we thought it did. ”
“We must always remember the Deep Knowing.” Roisin took Freyja’s hand. “But now we can share it with our sons as well as our daughters. It is their legacy, too.”
“Even if we did misunderstand her edict for nine hundred years.” Isolde shook her head. “But Roisin’s right. We can’t let her memory fade into the past.”
After a few moments Roisin released her sister’s hand and turned to Hugh. He smiled at her, his blue eyes as mesmeric as the day they’d first met and pulled her close.
“Are ye all right, mo ghràdh?” His voice was low, for her ears only, and warmth flooded through her. She could not imagine her life without this man by her side and thanked God and the ancient immortals every day that Amma had sent her to Argyll so unexpectedly.
“I am,” she whispered. “And I always will be, with ye in my life.”
The End