Prince Across the Water (10 page)

After a bit, she came in to watch. Neither of us spoke a word.

Suddenly, we heard a haloo and went outside, where we saw several figures struggling up the hill, each carrying a basket. It was Granda and Ma and the little ones all waving at us.

“There's news!” Granda called. “Grand news!”

I stood and waited while they labored up the rest of the hill, red-faced and puffing, for this was one of the few cloudless autumn days, with a sun shining full down on us.

“News of Da?” I asked.

Granda sat down on my stool and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “I'm sure yer da's well enough.”

Ma added, “More than well. He's probably been drinking and feasting for days.”

Mairi was up now and bouncing on her heels. “Feasting for what?”

“The prince has taken Edinburgh!” Andrew and Sarah cried out together.

I let out a cheer, but Granda waved me to be quiet. He had caught his breath and was ready to tell the rest.

But first Andrew and Sarah had to be hushed. Only then did Granda continue. “Ye recall when we left them, they were off toward Edinburgh. Well, they got into the city with hardly any trouble at all, and made their way up to the castle itself.”

“Is it a strong castle, Granda?” Mairi asked.

“It is a
very
strong castle, my lass,” he said, “perched high up like an eagle on its rocky nest. Well our brave men knew that anyone trying to get in at the West Port gate, the nearest at hand, would be shot to pieces by the castle guns.”

“So …” I said, eager to have him get on with it. “So …”

“So, it was just at dark, which can seem blacker in the midst of a battle than up here amid the hills, that Lochiel made a wise decision. And a lucky one, too. He brought his men away from the West Port and to one of the lesser gates, the Netherbow. And just as the Camerons had concealed themselves, the gate was thrown open to let a coach get out and Lochiel and his men raced in.”

“God on our side,” Andrew and Sarah cried together.

Granda leaned back and grinned.

“The castle taken?” I whispered.

“Taken!” Granda said. “And all before the redcoats had eaten their evening meal.”

I laughed at the thought of the redcoats fleeing, spilling bowls of porridge and cups of ale, as the Highlanders chased them out of the castle and along Edinburgh's twisty streets.

Granda added, “They proclaimed James the Eighth king at the market cross the next morning, and the prince entered the next day in triumph, so old Hamish told me, and he heard it from a messenger up the valley.”

“The war's won then?” Mairi asked, wide-eyed. “Da can come home now?”

“It was but a single battle, child,” said Ma.

“And it was over before ye could clap yer hands.” Granda grinned, ruffling her yellow hair.

“I'll wager Da was in the thick of it.” I swung my arms about, pretending to chop off English heads with a sword while guarding myself with my shield.

Andrew copied my every motion until he fell over, and waved his bare feet in the air, which made us all laugh. All except Ma.

“This is nae game.” She clucked her tongue. She looked angry and frightened at the same time.

I turned to her. “Da will be fine, I know he will. If ye had seen him on the march, with the men, ye'd have faith in him.”

“I have faith in yer da. It's the English guns I dinna trust.”

“Now, Catriona,” Granda said, “we silenced those guns at Edinburgh and we can do it elsewhere. Besides, yer frightening the little ones.” Indeed, Sarah had gotten a wide-eyed look about her.

“Aye, what was I thinking,” Ma said. “I've not come up here to call in the bogies, but to get both of ye to leave off yer work for a while. I've a nice dinner—cheese plus some honey to spread on fresh-baked barley bannocks. We'll make a right feast of it and drink a cup of fresh milk to Bonnie Prince Charlie's health. And to yer da's.”

“Milk, pah!” said Granda, but he said it smiling.

We all crowded into the hut and Mairi and Sarah helped Ma take the food from the baskets and put it all out on the little table. I got a pail of milk from the shed and poured some carefully into each of the wooden mugs.

Then we gathered around the table and Ma was about to say the grace when Mairi clapped her hands together. “Oh, what a land this will be from now on! I wager the faerie folk willna be frightened to come out anymore. And yer prince and my prince will bring a long peace to us all.”

Granda smiled at her fondly and raised his cup. “That's as good a grace as any, my lass. Here's to a long peace, indeed.”

But Ma had the last word, as she often did. “There's a big difference, Granda, between a single battle and a war.”

13 THE GLOAMING POOL

We sat eating bannocks for a long while, using the fact that our mouths were full to keep from talking. But at last we were done, and I feared that the talk would turn again to the war, with Ma and Granda taking different sides. All I wanted was for the celebration to continue. I tried to think how to put that into words.

That's when Mairi jumped up and, without a word, skipped out the door.

“Duncan, ye hurry after and keep an eye on her,” Ma ordered me. “There's danger all around.”

“Aye, ye know how flighty she is,” said Granda.

I dropped a half-eaten bannock, licking the honey from my fingers as I dashed out after her. Once outside I saw that she'd stopped to wait for me.

“I knew Ma would make ye chase me and I didna want ye to have to run too far.” Her face was lit with an impish grin.

“That's good of ye, I'm sure,” I said as she took my still-sticky hand and pulled me after her.

We walked along the hills where the cows chewed contentedly on the remains of the summer grass. September can be a mean time of year, and October worse, but the cows seemed content enough.

Goodness knows there had been lean times the last few years, when I had often wished I could fill my belly as easily as they. But the prince had promised to put things aright, and I knew he was a man of his word, for wasn't he already winning our country back from the English?

“Where are ye taking me?” I asked, for we were already quite a ways from the shieling hut.

“Och, ye know where we're going,” she replied, slapping my arm. “We're going to tell the Fair Folk the news that good times lie ahead for their people and ours.”

She started down a small, rocky path; and I did, indeed, know all too well where it led.

“We're no going down to the Gloaming Pool. Ye know Ma says to stay away from there. There are slippery rocks and dangerous reeds and—”

“Wheesht!” Mairi said, wagging her finger at me. “I'm in nae danger. The prince is always looking out for me.”

“Stay here!” I told her, not a plea but a command. The pool was a dangerous place. Last year one of our cows had gone down the path and broken its leg.

Mairi looked at me, her eyes suddenly moist. “Oh, Duncan, would ye no like to come away to the Fair Country, where it's always summer and they drink fresh dew from crystal cups and fly on the backs of swans?”

She was getting that faraway look again and I needed to humor her or she would get agitated and run off.

“I suppose.”

Brightening, she took my hand again. “Good. When I go, I'll take ye with me.”

“I dinna think so,” I said firmly. “Somebody will have to stay here and do the work.”

“Aye, I see that,” she said, nodding soberly. “But dinna think I will ever forget ye, Duncan MacDonald, my own dear brother.”

My fingers slid from her grasp and she darted off, laughing.

I ran after her and that made her laugh harder. “Mairi, ye know what Ma said!”

“Och, I'm going anyway and yer too slow to catch me,” she teased.

Though I was stronger than she, with a longer stride, she seemed to fly along on her bare feet like a swooping swallow skimming over the grass. By the time I caught up with her, she was kneeling on the rocky ledge overlooking the pond, her skirts petaled around her.

Flopping down beside her, I laid a weary hand on her arm, like a bailiff making an arrest. I was breathing hard and the blood was pounding in my head. My fingers were tingling strangely, the way they sometimes do before a fit begins.

“There,” she declared, pointing down.

The Gloaming Pool lay thirty feet below us, with lilies on the surface and a patch of hollow reeds at the far end. Sunlight glancing off the water made my eyes blur and I had to shake my head twice to clear them.

“Mairi, the Fair Folk dinna live there,” I said. “There's only rocks and reed beds and a boggy bottom. Now come away before Ma gets upset.” The tingling in my hands was worse now. I knew I had to get her away quickly.

She shrugged my hand off as I slumped onto my back, drawing in deep breaths to try to settle the throbbing in my temples.

“Yer wrong, Duncan. See the ripples they make in the pool sailing their wee boats back and forth.” She jumped up.

“Och, that'll just be a trout under the water,” I said, not looking but concentrating on trying to stop the ache in my head.

“There's nae fish in this pool, Duncan.”

“Then it's the wind—or the midges.”

Mairi spat on her finger and held it in the air. “There's nae wind.” She set her hands on her hips. “And I canna see any midges.”

“They're too small to see,” I said, sitting up carefully. “But ye can still feel them when they bite!” I gave her a nip on the arm and she squealed and wriggled away.

“Och, yer a beast!” she cried, ripping up a clump of grass and flinging it at me.

But I was tiring of the game. Besides, I was suddenly sweating. The tips of my fingers had gone numb.
Oh, God
, I thought,
no here, no now
. Not when I had been sent to fetch Mairi back.

“The prince …” I must have said it aloud, meaning that the prince was supposed to have cured me.

Mairi grinned, turned, and started off down the hill, waving her arms over her head. “The prince!” she cried.

“No, Mairi!” I called after her and tried to stand. I was brought back to my knees as if an invisible hand had caught hold of me. A blinding light stabbed my eyes. My knees buckled under me and I toppled to the ground, choking in agony. I rolled onto my side, my arms and legs twitching uncontrollably. In my head was the buzz of a thousand tiny voices. My eyes rolled up in my head, and then there was nothing I could do but give way and fall into the darkness.

14 LOST

When the darkness cleared, there were lights dancing before my eyes, like flies with wings of flame. A buzzing filled the air. I knew what it was and was fair used to it. It didn't scare me as it had once.

There were voices in my ears, too, but I could hardly understand what they were saying. They were like the piping of birds in a far-off forest.

“Laddie. Laddie. We're here. Dinna fash … here.”

One of the voices grew louder and louder until I could tell it was Granda's. He was talking to me but the words were all jumbled up. He put an arm under my shoulder to help me up, and set my bonnet back on my head. I only managed to get to my knees before my stomach clenched like a fist and I heaved up all over the grass. The stink of it made me dizzy.

There was another voice now, further away but getting closer. It was Ma's.

“Mairi!” she was calling. “Where's Mairi?”

Where was Mairi
? Why hadn't she been the one to help me up, as she had done so many times before?

“She'll be about,” said Granda. “Dinna fret yersel'.”

Gripping Granda's arm with both hands, I hauled myself upright, swaying giddily. I felt Ma's steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Duncan, where's yer sister?”

And then I remembered. “The Gloaming Pool.” At least I tried to say it, but the words came out as a wheeze.

The sun was just starting to sink, the night drawing in. Fear clutched at my heart. “Ma,” I cried, “the pool!” There, the words out at last.

But before I even finished, Ma had gathered up her skirts and was hurrying down the slope toward the pool while the rest of us could only watch her go. At the bottom, she fell to her knees, then crawled the last few yards to the edge of the water, wailing and keening.

I pulled from Granda's grasp though he cried after me, “Ye've barely the strength to stand, lad.”

Lurching down the hillside after Ma, I could see what it was she was seeing, even through the dim light of the gloaming. There was a dark, humped shape in the water, small and unmoving, caught up in the reeds.

Granda edged sideways down the slope after me as best he could, with Andrew and Sarah calling out, “Wait, wait!” and “Dinna leave us behind!”

Even as I stumbled downhill, I saw that Ma was already in the water up to her knees, tentative about the footing because she couldn't swim. She was weeping loudly, crying Mairi's name.

And there floating before her was Mairi, her face turned downward in the water, yellow hair streaming about like strands of golden seaweed, dark plaid skirts as lovely as a scallop shell about her legs. She seemed to be reaching for something, something just beyond her grasp.

Ma got to her before I was quite down. Wrapping her arms around Mairi's shoulders, she turned her over, crying, “Och, my lassie, my poor wee lassie.” Mairi's face was a strange grey in the light, mushroom grey, and for a moment I barely knew her.

I waded into the pool, Granda beside me. Then he was in front of me, looking back.

“Give me a hand, Duncan,” he said as he eased Ma aside. He picked up Mairi in his arms, the water pouring off her.

Suddenly, I couldn't move a step closer, almost afraid to go near, as if death were a disease and I might catch it.

“Take her legs, Duncan,” Granda ordered.