Legends and Life - 1. Chapter 1

The doe was frozen, her wide ears swiveled forward and her black eyes were focused on Naill as he crept closer to her. Off to one side, hidden in the shadow of a rowan tree Rabbie stood steadying his arm he pulled the string back on his bow and released. His arrow, a long powerful shaft tipped with a steel point, sliced through the air and struck the slender animal. It slipped between two ribs as if it was being guided and found the madly beating heart with lethal force.

Naill whooped as she bucked, then hunched and broke from her cover. Running in panic she slowed quickly as her body failed, sliding to the ground in the inevitable moment of death. Watching silently Rabbie quickly made his way to the still body on the ground. He placed a hand on the neck, murmuring quick thanks before taking out his dirk and beginning the task of removing the innards.

"Come ower here and help me wi' this will ye, Naill. Faither is expecting us this afternoon in the fields. I dinna think he'd be much for leniency if we're no there to help out."

"That was a bonny shot, Rabbie. Slick as ye please it was. I wouldna worry ower much were I ye. Meat is always welcome. Your Da isna likely to do aught if we're a wee bit late."

Rabbie snorted, "Aye, right. Mebbe if I were a guid son like Iain he'd no be such a hard arse when it comes to my coming and goings. As it were, he is. So I'll thank ye to stop blethering and get over here. I need ye to hold open these back legs."

Naill hurried over, his leather shoes crunching the crisp leaves that littered the ground. "Crabbit today, aren't ye?" He knelt down to help Rabbie. He wasn't a tall man, standing a full head shorter than Rabbie but his arms were corded with muscle earned from long days working the fields. His brown hair looked muted next to Rabbie's russet tresses as they knelt together. Somewhere during the stalk Rabbie lost the tie to his hair and his vibrant locks hung loosely down to his shoulders.

Grunting with effort Rabbie ignored Naill who continued to talk. He finished and wiped his dirk in the wet leaves under the shelter of an oak tree before sheathing it with a quiet swish. The woods were full of creatures that were not friendly to Scotsmen and the lure of the blood and offal would soon bring more than the biting flies. Rabbie quickly used some long grasses to tie the front and back legs together and slid a convenient branch through the loops.

"C'mon, let's go. Much as I hope your right I dinna want to risk it. Getting back on time and wi' some fresh meat will make Faither happy wi’ me, a rare thing to be sure. Besides, Janet said she'd save some bannocks and cheese in the kitchens for us. We might get to sit down to eat them if we hurry."

"Any chance of something more than water to be had wi' that? It was a long stalk," Naill asked as he hurried over to shoulder one end of the pole. Both men stood up straight and began walking, snaking an awkward path through the trees and tall heather.

Naill's stomach growled and Rabbie grinned. He knew the best way to get things done was to appeal to parts lower than Naill's head and having no time to break their fast before hunting that morning made for easy convincing. "Aye, and some ale as weel."

Naill sighed, licking his lips, "Alright, ye can shuddup now. It'll be a good hour before we make it back to the castle and my stomach is gnawing on my backbone. I still dinna ken why ye insisted we leave afore even the oatcakes were baked."

"Stop your whining, that's just a wee bit o' time. We'll be back afore ye know it.”

The cold mists of the morning fog begun to clear as they walked back and the morning drizzle was barely enough to dampen the grasses they disturbed as they made their way back to Meggernie castle, home of the Campbell laird of Loch Lyon. John Campbell was an older man, outside his prime but still firm and straight-backed. He led his clan with an iron fist but was a fair man aside from his one blind spot, his son Rabbie.

As the eldest son, Rabbie should have been by his father's side as he governed the clan but the politics and the people drove him crazy. Though he loved his people the stark crags and deep tarns of the land called to him more than the responsibilities thrust on upon him by his father simply because he was first born. He had brothers who would be better stewards but as the eldest son, his future as laird was set.

Coming to the river Lyon the men walked in silence beside the rushing waters that flowed between the steep banks. The river was constrained between narrow banks and the water's swift current raced over the rocks that lay in the waterbed creating a music that blended with the calls of the geese flying overhead and the sound of the wind through the thistles. Soon the castle was in sight. Rabbie wrapped the peace he found in the quiet of the forest around him as he braced himself to once again face the people of his clan and family.

***

Harvesting the oats didn't take a lot of strength but the repetitive motion took a skill that took time to learn as the men grew from boys. Sons of the laird or not, Rabbie, Iain, and their youngest brother Dougal had been doing it since they could be trusted not to slice their hands off. The bounty of the land required the combined efforts of all the castle folk to ensure hunger wouldn't steal their people in the bitter depths of the winter that Cailleach brought with her each year. The women were even busier than the men as they bustled each day from sunrise to sunset to preserve the surplus. A few of them had just brought some water jugs around to the men working in the fields and were now walking back to the castle, laughing as they enjoyed the cool sunshine.

"Wee Isabail is nae so small anymore, eh Rabbie?" Iain called to him from the next row. He raised his brows and grinned as he mimicked the soft swells rising above the bodice of Isabail's gown as she leaned forward to dip the ladle in the pail. He was blond haired and blue eyed as an angel. Little did the lassies know the saintly appearance went only skin deep. Inside Iain was as wicked as a sailor.

"Lord, man, the lassie is naught but fourteen. Ye ken weel enough that her faither would geld ye in an instant were he to hear ye talk about her that way. That or Faither would be announcing the banns and ye would find yourself saddled with an ower young bride."

"Aww, you're such a prude, Rabbie. Ye'd make a fine man of the cloth, ye would." Iain made a crude gesture, laughing as Rabbie looked away in disgust. At seventeen his brother had a certain reputation among the lassies that many a father took heed of.

Rabbie shook his head and focused on his work. The rhythm of his arms swinging as he sent the scythe through the oats was soothing as he tried to think of things other than wives. He was nearing nineteen and not yet a husband. His father was becoming impatient, wanting bairns to ensure his family would continue. So far he hadn't made it an order but in a few nights they were hosting a ceilidh for the neighboring folk. Sure as he breathed his mam would be parading every available lassie in front of him. Manners would dictate that he be civil. Scowling, he could already feel the muscles along his shoulders tightening in protest.

***

The pipers were busy and the ale flowed like water. The Great Hall was lit by a huge fire in the fireplace at one end and torches secured to the walls. Sweet smelling branches of heather and thistle were placed here and there along the walls. People sat eating and talking along the benches and tables pushed back to the walls. Sitting at the head table the laird nodded at his Master of Horses walking by.

John Campbell watched as his people enjoyed the food he laid out, fresh venison, smoked haddock, salmon, and trout were the highlights along with oatcakes, bannocks, and fresh cheese. The variety was pleasing and boded well that the harvest would prove to be a bountiful one as the blessing of the Cailleach on the loch held and his people prospered. Celebrating the start of the harvest, his family mingled with the people of the village and the neighboring countryside. He sat watching in his wood chair, shifting on the thin cushion, the only comfort he allowed himself. He would not become soft like any lowlander lord.

John's eyes narrowed as he watched his eldest son avoid his mother and the young lassie she towed in her wake. Rabbie was a brave hunter and the men all liked him, but he was mulish stubborn over the issue of taking a wife. It wasn't that the lassies wouldn't have him. He was a large man like John's father had been, standing a bit taller than most men. His bright hair and fair skin paired with a pair of piercing green eyes made the maids tittering whenever he walked by. Yet he remained indifferent to all the lassies, no matter how comely.

He knew well enough Rabbie's love of the land, it was a good thing in a laird but he needed sons to follow him. If Rabbie would have nothing to do with the lassies on his own then it was John's duty to find him a bonny lass. There might be a bit of a fuss when he informed Rabbie he will be wed the next Bealltane. John scowled; the lad would get over it. He was John's son, and as such, would do his duty.

For his part Rabbie was indeed trying to avoid his mother. She had the daughter of a local crofter in tow and he was tired of his mother's coy hints with the first three girls she had introduced him to. Perhaps if he could slip away he could find some peace in one of the towers where no one would think to look for him. He skulked around the edges of the thick stone walls that felt cool in the warmest of weather, waiting for a moment when no one was watching him. It was just a few moments that felt like forever until a passing woman stopped his mother to talk for a moment. Rabbie took advantage of her distraction to slip behind a thick tapestry that hung all the way down to the floor. The sounds were muffled and there was no one hiding there already so he had a moment to himself, something he missed the last few days. He had been required to be in almost constant attendance of people of the castle.

There was a door behind the tapestry that Robbie unlocked with a large key he had hidden in his pocket. He pushed it shut behind him, hurrying away. This servant passage was rarely used and dust lay thick on the stone floor. He had escaped this way before and though it was pitch black he was able to find his way by feel to the door that led to the southernmost tower.

There was a small room tucked away right next to the tower. Rabbie had long since built up a pallet there for the times he needed to sneak away. He wrapped an old plaid around his shoulders and sat down, sighing as he leaned his head back against the gray stone wall. Just beyond them were the forests, burns, and heather he loved. With the walls 5 foot thick here, the outside felt both close and far away.

Earlier that day, Rabbie overheard some maids gossiping about a conversation between his parents about his bachelor status. Most gentlemen his age were already married with weans. He shuddered. He could not even begin to explain to his father why that idea did not appeal to him. He loved the land and his people. It didn’t change the fact that he cringed at the thought of serving them by wedding and having sons.

He sighed. If his father had really made up his mind then there would be no getting out of it. John Campbell was laird. Every man, woman, and child in the clan owed him their fealty and obedience. Rabbie owed it not one bit less just because he would be laird in his own time; in many ways, it only bound him more tightly to his father's will.

Mundanely, his stomach chose that moment to grumble about the lack of food he fed it at the ceilidh. Reaching into his sporran Rabbie pulled out a napkin wrapped bundle. He wedged a few pieces of venison roast in a bannock and before long it was gone, leaving him licking crumbs from his fingers. He shook out the napkin before folding it back up. Laying down he folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Being up before dawn to help in the fields again and then the stress of minding his manners with the clansmen and their hungry daughters had worn him out. He fell asleep under his plaid and dreamed of another life in another time.

***

The next morning the inhabitants of the castle gathered again in the Great Hall for breakfast. The morning after a ceilidh was always a slow one with the men taking their time instead of rushing off to their work as usual. The long tables and benches had been put back in the middle of the room and the fireplace held a much smaller fire than the one that warmed the hall the night before. Rubbing his eyes Rabbie stumbled in to sit at the left side of his father.

"Good morn to ye, Faither, Mither," Rabbie said as he reached for some honey to drizzle over his porridge.

"Aye, thanks. The same to ye, son." John squinted at Rabbie, trying to see what lay beyond his sleepy expression. "The servants tell me ye didna sleep in your chambers last night son. Is there perhaps something ye wish to tell me?"

"Aye, I fell asleep in a dark corner of the castle. Tis getting right dusty in places. I guess I had too much ale and no enough food last night." Rabbie kept his eyes on his wooden spoon sitting in his bowl of oats. He glanced at his father from just the corner of his eye and saw him take a bite, chewing slowly before swallowing. Rabbie breathed out a sigh of relief, taking a bite of his own. The rest of his family paused in their own meals during the spat. Thinking the danger of an argument over, they starting eating again.

"I dinna see much ale find its way to your cup, son."

Rabbie put down his spoon carefully, "Why do ye not just say what ye mean, Faither? Did I sneak off to lay with a lassie and father those sons you are dying for me to have? That is what ye want to know isna it? Weel, I didna." He looked up, glaring at his father, "Now, do ye really want to finish this talk here or are we done?"

"Ye insolent upstart. Get awa' from my table and out o' my sight." John was flushed and his eyes glittered in anger. Rabbie's mother just stared at the table and avoided her son's look.

"My pleasure." Rabbie held his father's eyes as he snagged two warm oatcakes from the platter and rolled them up. Taking a bite he walked from the room amid the whispers and looks of the people still eating their meal. Those close enough to the family table to hear the fight between the laird and his son kept their gazes down, not wanting to get caught up in the family squabble.

Rabbie stalked all the way to the stables. He went into Duible’s stall and stood there for a moment leaning on the steady presence of his horse. Patting Duible on his shoulder, he reached into his sporran and pulled out an apple he snagged on the way in the stable.

“Aye there and good morn to ye, Duible. Did ye have a restful night or were the fillies driving ye crazy as weel?” Shaking his head Rabbie got him ready to ride. He gracefully swung up into the saddle. Settling his kilt around his strong thighs, he spread his plaid over his shoulders against the chill of the morning fog and rode out of the stable.

As soon as he crossed the bridge from the castle Rabbie dropped the reins and kicked Duible into a gallop, fleeing the overwhelming responsibilities that were burying him into a deep depression. He regretted his outburst and knew that the fight with his father would only make things worse. It was almost as if he couldn’t stop himself. He had woken up after the dreams of the night and the idea of an arranged marriage, the whole life laid out before him with no way out, raised his ire.

He rode confident in the saddle, at one with his horse until they were a few miles distant from the castle and turned off on a little used track. He reined Duible back into a slow walk and slumped in his saddle. The sun had burned off the morning mists that hung in the hollows of the land. It was one of those rare fine fall days where the air was crisp and cool but full of sunshine. His father was already angry with him; he would take the day off and do some fishing while he tried to cool his temper enough to remain civil at the evening meal.

His horse picked up his pace a little as he smelled the water, eager to reach the tender plants that grew at the edge of the water. Coming up on the crystal clear waters of the tarn Rabbie swung off his saddle, his blue and green kilt swinging about his knees. He reached into his saddlebags, pulling out some rags to hobble Duible so he could not wander off as he ate his fill as he daintily plucked the young plants from the shallows.

Rabbie walked a little way from the track to his favorite fishing spot. A yew tree shaded a smooth rock that sat on the edge of an overhang. Trout often rested there among the branches and roots that sank into the water. Opening his sporran he pulled out a wound up line with a hook sunk into a piece of cork. Digging around inside his sporran again, he managed to find a piece of cheese and stuck a small crumb on the hook. Unraveling the neat coil of line he let it drop into the water.

He sat down under the tree, holding the line in a loose grip as he patiently waited for a bite. He leaned against the rock, kicking his legs out. He smiled as the grass tickled his bare calves as he soaked up the sunshine under the blue sky and white clouds. Resting his head back against the speckled stone he closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. It was quiet; the only sounds the click of Duible's teeth as he nipped the succulent treats and an osprey’s scream as it plunged into the water to claim his own share of the water's bounty.

It wasn't long before he felt a quick tug and smoothly pulled up his line. A fine fat trout dangled on the edge of the hook, the line burning his fingers as it fought. A final tug from Rabbie and the trout landed on the bank flopping around as it tried to get back into the water. Surging forward he smacked the trout on the head with a rock, stilling its struggles. He coated it in mud and wrapped some leaves around it before laying it in the shade under the yew tree. He had a few more small bits of cheese left in his cloth so he baited his hook again and sat back down.

The peace was working to calm his nerves and the sun had barely passed the highest point overhead by the time he caught four good sized fish. He coiled his line up and put it back in his sporran. He leaned down over the side of the bank and reached into the water, scooping up a handful of the cold pure water. He drank his fill then just dangled his hand in the water watching the ripples from each small touch spread in ever widening rings. A small water bug skittered away from the disturbance.

He rolled over and laid flat on the soft grass, pillowing his face on a fold of his tartan. The air was no longer as crisp as the sun warmed the earth and the unseasonable heat made him sleepy. He rested better when he was on a hunt or on the road with his father's men than he ever did staying at the castle. It wasn’t that the castle wasn’t comfortable, being built in the last 30 years it was more modern than most lairds’ homes but the thick walls made Rabbie feel like he was cut off or entombed.

Drowsy from the restless night and the warm sun Rabbie fell asleep, trusting Duible's hobbles to keep him close by. He began to move restlessly in his sleep as his dreams continued to plague him. His forehead wrinkled as he mumbled and shifted. He didn't notice the water beginning to swirl off the bank nor the fluid form of a woman rising up from the surface to stare at him.

Stepping onto the bank she walked around him with her head tilted, a smile gracing her slender refined face. Her long blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight as it framed her translucently pale skin then flowed like silk over her long blue cloak. She was more beautiful than any mortal woman and an air of otherness clung to her.

"No, please!" he called out. The woman flinched at the pain in his voice.

Rabbie's head tossed from side to side and he rolled onto his back, still firmly asleep and trapped in the nightmare overwhelming his mind. The woman's smile turned to a frown as she stepped closer and he subsided back into troubled murmurs. She gathered the folds of her thin cloak closer to her to mask her presence; as she moved it looked like the flow of water moving and rippling in the wind. She reached out a hand, barely touching two of her fingers to the center of Rabbie's forehead. Her frown deepened as she sensed the turmoil and suffering he was fighting in his mind. Something was coming, something very important that she could sense but not understand.

"Who are ye, beautiful man?" she whispered as she stroked a soothing hand through his hair that looked like a flame set free from the fire. "What is your purpose?" Her voice had a soft melodious tone and was even more enthralling than her exquisite face.

The strain on Rabbie's face eased, then his body quieted as the sound of flowing water and the sensation of water cradling his body as it was rocked by the warm waves took over his dream. He sighed and his face became even more stunning as it relaxed, his stern expression eased by the natural arch of his graceful eyebrows and his full lips parting softly.

The woman stood up and stared at Rabbie for a moment longer, a thoughtful look on her face. "I think ye will be someone to watch. I must speak to Somhlth; he kens your kind." Stepping off the bank, she flowed back into the water and disappeared.