Chapter Twenty-Three
Cam was awakened by pounding on his cottage door.
He was up before he even realized he was awake, wiping his eyes of sleep as he staggered to the door. Throwing the old iron bolt, he yanked the panel open to find Ewan and Ossian standing there.
“Are ye still asleep?” Ewan appeared genuinely perplexed. “Get up, man. We’ve much tae do today.”
They pushed into the cottage and Cam found himself buffeted between the pair. Ewan bent down to stir the nearly dead embers in the hearth and throw on some peat while Ossian reached down and began collecting the clothing from Cam’s meager possessions.
All the while, Cam stood in the doorway and watched.
Since his heated encounter with Isadora, life at Auchnacree had come to a standstill because of the horrendous storm that had moved in over the past few days.
Nearly everyone had been confined to their cottages, unwilling and unable to move about in rain so heavy it was almost like fog, obscuring the land and creating slick hillsides that made travel very difficult.
As of this morning, however, the rains had subsided and people were out and about, but the truth was that when there had been a knock on his door, Cam had hoped that it was Isadora. He hadn’t seen her in days.
Ewan and Ossian were not a welcome sight.
Cam watched the pair busy themselves in his cottage. Ossian shook out a tunic and tossed it to him so he could put it on as Ewan tried to bring some heat into the room.
“The elders are convening this morning,” Ossian, usually the silent one, said. “We’re tae bring ye, but we thought we’d show ye the village first.”
Cam pulled the woolen tunic over his head. “What is there tae see?”
Ewan stood up, brushing off his hands. “Lots of things,” he said. “Aunt Clova, mostly. She asked tae see ye first. But we’ve got tae show ye where the important people live, the boundaries of the village, and where the trouble comes. Things ye should know.”
Cam straightened out the tunic, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it down. “Ye realize I was born in Netherton,” he said. “I know these hills, too, some of them as well as ye do.”
“But ye dunna know our village.”
Cam shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “As a lad, I was instructed tae stay away from the Keith. Everyone in Netherton was.”
Ossian handed him his cloak. “It must seem strange tae ye tae be here, Lion.”
Cam looked at him. “My name is Cam.”
Ossian grinned, displaying a great gap in his front teeth. “Ye are The Lion of Caledonia,” he said. “That is what they called ye when ye tamed The Beast.”
Cam thought Ossian’s wide-toothed grin to be fairly comical. “Too bad for ye,” he said. “Yer sister told me that ye wanted The Beast tae return tae Auchnacree with ye.”
Ossian shrugged. “We wanted the best man,” he said. “But ye were the best. I’ll not hold it against ye.”
“I’m glad tae hear ye’ll be holding no grudges because I whipped yer lad.”
Cam said it in a jesting manner, but Ossian looked at him rather seriously. “Issie had her eye on ye from the start,” he said. “I suppose there was never any question that ye would be the warrior we brought home, though we put up a good fight. In the end, she always gets her way.”
“Does she?”
“Always,” Ewan spoke up, moving for the door. “What Issie wants, she gets, and she wanted ye. I hope ye can live up tae her expectations.”
Ewan and Ossian were heading out of the door, into the icy morning beyond. Cam watched them go, lifting his eyebrows.
“I hope I already have,” he muttered.
But they didn’t hear him as he followed them outside.
At dawn, Auchnacree was already bustling, villagers wanting to conclude their business before more rains inevitably came.
Cartloads of winter root vegetables were being brought into town and hunters were carrying lines of grouse and other small birds to sell to hungry customers.
“This time of year, the hunters come down from the mountains with their catches,” Ewan said. “The shepherds drive their sheep up high for the winter but bring the cattle down. Some days ye’ll find cattle in town.”
Cam was interested in his surroundings, this bustling village tucked away from the world. “’Tis the same in Netherton,” he said. “We even have men come in from the sea with fish and seal hides.”
Ewan dodged a dog as he walked alongside Cam. “Have ye seen Netherton since ye left for The Cal?” he asked. “Have ye ever gone back?”
Cam shook his head. “Nay.”
“How long have ye been gone?”
“Since it was burned.”
Ewan glanced at him. “They’re rebuilding,” he said. “Trying tae, anyway. There are people living there.”
Cam thought on his village, as he knew it.
He felt a huge amount of loyalty to it and hearing they were trying to rebuild, he felt some guilt for not helping, for not being there to raise walls and restore his village.
But he felt strongly that his path lay elsewhere, with punishing those responsible.
“Not everyone was killed,” he said. “Many were, but not everyone. Those who live in Netherton are strong.”
“Will ye ever return?”
“There is nothing there for me any longer.”
“I’m not sure I could return tae Auchnacree if it had been burned away.”
“Hopefully, ye’ll never have tae find out.”
Surprisingly, Ewan let the subject drop. He may have been tactless at times, but he knew what a sore subject the fall of Netherton was with a man who suffered through it. If there had been any animosity between Cam and the brothers before, Ewan was trying to make amends.
Looking for a change of subject, he could see his great-aunt, Clova, as the woman sat in front of her cottage on the hillside holding her customary bundle of smoking weeds. He pointed to her.
“We’ll visit Aunt Clova first,” he said. “Even more than my da, she controls things in Auchnacree.”
Cam could see the old woman as they headed up the rocky path. “What are those weeds she’s holding?” he asked. “She had them the other night, too.”
Ewan was leading the way, trying not to slip on the slick mud. “Hemp,” he said. “She burns hemp and inhales the smoke. She travels with those smelly weeds everywhere she goes, but sometimes that bloody smoke makes my head swim.”
Cam thought it was all a bit odd as he followed Ewan all the way up to the cottage where the old women sat in her chair, tendrils of blue smoke curling around her face. Ewan lifted a hand to her in greeting.
“Aunty,” he called. “I’ve brought The Lion tae ye this morning.”
Old Clova fixed her gaze on him and as Cam drew near, he could see that one of her eyes was clouded over. He hadn’t noticed that before.
“Good morn tae ye, m’lady,” he said.
Clova cocked her head. “Ah,” she said. “The Lion has arrived. Come closer, lad.”
Cam did, stepping next to her chair. The woman reached out and collected one of his big, callused hands, holding it up to look at it in the weak morning light.
Cam glanced at Ewan, who simply lifted his shoulders curiously.
When the old woman smelled his fingernails, Cam very nearly pulled his hand away, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful.
Finally, she dropped his hand.
“I smell smoke on ye,” she said. “Ye work with fire.”
Cam nodded. “I was a smithy, once.”
“I smell Isadora on ye.”
Cam had to make a conscious effort to keep from reacting. “I am not sure how that is possible,” he said. “I’ve not seen her since the night we arrived.”
He was very careful in his reply, not exactly lying, but not exactly telling the truth. He didn’t want to tip off Ewan and Ossian, but the old lady’s words had him off balance. As she eyed him with her one milky orb, Ewan spoke up.
“Dunna insult him, Aunty,” he said. “I saw him tear apart a man twice his size, so we dunna want tae anger him.”
Clova took a long drag of the smoke from her weeds, exhaling slowly. Then, she pointed to a fairly large rock that was right next to her chair.
“Sit,” she commanded.
Cam did as he was told, sitting down and facing the woman who said she could smell Isadora on him.
“I’m told ye’re from Netherton,” she said.
“I am.”
“Ye lost much.”
“Aye.”
She continued to stare at him, inspecting every inch of him. Cam was beginning to feel uncomfortable because he didn’t like being stared at like that. She was harmless enough, unless she started talking about smelling Isadora on him again. Finally, she looked away.
“Netherton always seemed tae breed fine, strong men and I see that in ye.”
“Ye have my thanks.”
The old woman looked at Ewan and Ossian. “Go away from me,” she said. “I want tae speak tae The Lion alone.”
Ewan gave Cam an expression of sympathy as he turned away, following Ossian back down the trail. Clova waited until the pair was out of earshot before speaking again.
“Ye look like him,” she said softly.
Cam looked at her curiously. “Who?”
The old woman smelled her weeds again before replying.
“Him,” she said. “I never married, ye see. I had a love who lived in Netherton and my da forbid me tae see him or even love him. When we were separated, I knew I could never love again. It was so long ago, but I remember his face as if ’twas yesterday. Shall I tell ye his name?”
Cam had no idea why she was speaking on a lost love, but he nodded his head, anyway. “If ye want.”
“Nikolaus. Do ye know the name?”
That brought a strong reaction from Cam. “Nik…?” he sputtered in disbelief. “But… but that’s my grandfather’s name.”
Clova sat back, a smile playing on her lips. “When I saw ye the night ye arrived, ye looked so much like him that I knew ye must be a relation,” she said. “I couldna say anything, of course, but I’m sure ye wondered why I was staring at ye. ’Tis why I asked tae see ye this morning.”
Cam was genuinely shocked. In fact, one his last conversations with his grandfather came back to him in a rush and he remembered Nikolaus speaking of a Keith lass he was once fond of, but the hatred of the clans kept them apart.
He found himself staring at his grandfather’s lost love.
He could hardly believe it.
“I dunna even know what tae say,” he said. “I’m astonished tae hear such a thing.”