Morag's Tears (Celtic Storm Series Book 5) Page 2

  As the New Religion gained in strength, the Old Ways were put aside. Many of us who were of the Old Ways, had to sometimes hide for fear of being persecuted. That evil spread its spiny fingers throughout our land and its reach was far and wide. I knew of it well enough first hand, after my mother paid such a price. You see, the Old Ways put fear in the hearts of those following the Christian God and though we all came from the Old Ways at one time; the New Religion threatened those of us who could nay put the Old Ways aside.

  I wondered about a Religion who followed a God of love and understanding, or so they said, but the men who ran it were capable of causing so much strife to people like me. I learned to love the Christian God eventually, because He was not so unlike what I had been taught by my mother, but I never put aside the Old Ways. I somehow felt, He would have been responsible for the gifts I enjoyed and so, I loved the One, but followed the ways I had always known.

  There is more than one way to worship and honor your God. I honored Him in the only way I knew how and that was to honor the ways my mother sacrificed her life to teach me. In her final days, she warned me to be careful of sharing my gifts with others. She said that friends would turn on us now that those forcing the New Religion were relentless in their rooting and purging of those who did not believe as they did. I think I never had known my mother to be fearful of anything in her life, for she was brave and courageous; except this. I think she was more afraid for me, than she was for herself. It was as if she had accepted her fate but did not want me to share in it. I know she knows I have outlived so many that shared her fate and I carry on even now as I tell my tale.

  Anyway, my Ian ne’er minded my ways which he lovingly called “peculiar”. In fact, if there were others in our clan that still held onto the practices of the past, he would say, “Oh Fergus, he’s peculiar, like ye’, Morag”, or “So and so was seen gathering Bloodwort and Comfrey. She must be peculiar, too.”

  The word peculiar became his gentle word for people like me; people who still practiced the Old Ways, though none were so peculiar as I was, I think. I soon learned that those who practiced in secret would look to me for their learning. Why, even the elder members of the Clan came to me, for my teaching had been steeped in the past and my mother saw to it that I learned all she could teach me while she walked in the mortal plane. She told me I needed to foster and hone my gifts and to share them when I could; but only when I felt safe. She did not want it to appear as if I had not converted to the New Ways. Nay, it had to seem that I followed the One God with all my heart. I practiced my craft in secret, like so many others, in those days when the darkness befell people like me. I owed it to my mother and her great sacrifice.

  I was young. I did nay want to be a leader of any sort. I had suffered great losses for one so young. I wanted to lie in sport with my dear Ian and raise my bairns in peace. To say I loved that man seems trite and insipid now, but love him I did. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I loved him from deep within my soul. I loved him with all that I was and all that I hoped to be. I will love him till the day I die, I suppose. There was only one person on the face of this earth that I loved more than Ian and that was his son; our son, the child we created in love.

  Our son came early. Some say grief brings a child into the world sooner than he was ready. I bore such heavy grief in the last months I carried him that it weighed heavy on the babe in my womb. Aye, he came early. He was beautiful, despite his arrival come too soon. I adored him. I think he looked like my Ian but he also looked like me. His eyes were grey, like mine, but sometimes they shone silver in the light of the sun. I called him Tavish, which means Thomas. I know Ian would have loved him, too.

  I lost my Ian to a petty skirmish with a rival clan. Men in their foolish ways, fight for silly causes. My Ian died needlessly for the folly of men who play at war. At that time of the rival fight that took Ian from me, I carried his son in my womb when I got the word of what happened in that field. When the clansmen bore my Ian home, he was already as cold as the grave. I looked into his sightless eyes and begged the Guardians to take me, too, but they did not. I tried to heal the wound that had ended my Ian’s life, but I could not for he was already walking with the Ancients. I was a widow before my twentieth year and I would soon have a sickly child to care for to boot. My grief over the loss of Ian caused my Tavish to be born early. Because he was born early, his lungs were weak.

  Back in those days, the Campbell and MacCollum were one clan, and they rallied to the cause to retaliate against the loss of Ian MacCollum. I can still hear Gavin Campbell declaring vengeance for the life of Ian, but even I, his widow, did not want that. Vengeance would not bring my Ian back and I did nay want Gavin’s wife to suffer as I was suffering, with the loss of my soul and my heart which was all for Ian. Nay, Gavin did not listen. He went against the Laird, and sought to take matters into his own hands. All his rash actions bought was strife for his family and caused a break between Campbell and MacCollum that would forever remain to this day. After his father died, Gavin took the role of Chief of Campbell but I always felt I was somehow partially to blame for the rift that yawned open between the clans of my heart because of my unending grief over the loss of my Ian; my handsome Ian. I think Gavin felt responsible for my heartache and for the loss of his best friend.

  I was too young to be a widow and to bear the grief in my heart. My life had only just begun and I was nay ready to be alone without my Ian, but my innocence was shattered and I had to hope for a miracle to save my son. All my training with herbs and mixtures and tinctures and potions could not help my son. I did nay have the tools to save him and ease his suffering. This caused me to break my vow to my mother and to the craft she lost her life for. I have spent my life working to make amends for this breach in my commitment to my lot in life in order to appeal to the Guardians for this transgression of the unspoken code. But alas, a mother must do what a mother can when it comes to the life of her child.

  Before I tell ye’ that tale, I will tell ye’ things I have done to appease those greedy Guardians. I will start the story of the would-be laird of Campbell for ye’ see, he had a price upon his head and a chasm in his heart; one caused by his willful disobedience to the Old Ways and to his Laird. Aye, my mistakes were many, but his forced the hands of Fate to forever split a Clan in twain. I begin with his story now.

  Chapter Three – Gavin Campbell

  Before I was a widow, before my heart was broken, one of my dearest friends was Gavin Campbell. He and Ian were like brothers, more so than even his own blood siblings. As a young girl, the three of us were inseparable. We could often be seen walking three together, with Ian on one arm and Gavin on the other. Gavin would protect Ian as best he could and he would protect me as well, from whatever foe children thought they faced. He was ever the defender of our little lives as we ventured into unseen childhood dangers.

  At one time, some thought that Gavin and I would wed, but my love had always been for Ian and I knew love for no other. It was as if even as a wee girl, it was Ian and me. Why, I can still see the three of us chasing imaginary dragons and dreams that were as big as the whole world.

  If I breathe in deeply enough, I can smell the wildflowers on the rise that we picked or the grass beneath our backs as we watched the clouds pass overhead. There was nothing that could stop us or our dreams. None of us knew that those days of dreams would one day soon end and our lives would be forever changed.

  One late afternoon, when we were getting back to our village for our supper, a man approached us. He was a stranger and he looked like the devil himself. Now, thinking back, perhaps he truly was, and for this I will never know for certain. There was something wrong about the man, I knew it straight away. You might say that t’was from my gift of Sight, but a body can tell when there is evil about, sight or no. I looked at both my beloved boys; my best friend and the boy I loved, and I tried to will them to see that this man was up to no good. I think they knew it straight away, too.
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  The man said he was from one of the clans to the north of us; one of the MacKenzies, but none of us recognized him. Aye, we were none too friendly with the likes of the MacKenzies, but even so, we had nay ever seen him at Fetes or Clan gatherings, that we could recall. He said he was a traveler and that he had somehow lost his way, which to me was suspicious. Even travelers knew where their homes were. He asked if we could lead him to the main road, he would be moving on. I knew in my heart that he wanted nothing to do with the main road and I tried not to show fear as I clung to Ian’s hand. I could tell that Gavin was tensed to the ready for a fight as he was wont to do in those days. To be honest, I wanted him to take the man down and beat the snot out of him. In that instant, I really thought he would.

  The next thing happened so fast, that neither Gavin nor Ian could rise to the fight, for the man took me and he held a dirk to my throat. He said he would kill me if I dinna’ go with him. I dunna’ know if it was something in his voice or in his eyes, but I was quite certain that he meant every word and if I did nay leave off with him, he would have slit me from ear to ear. He dragged me off to the brush beyond the rise and the lads stood in horror not knowing what to do.

  I screamed and tried to get free from him, but he sliced my dress with one cut and bared me to his lustful eye. I may have been young, but I knew what he was about. He threw me to the ground and forced my legs open and he threatened me with the dirk saying he would slice me from my belly to my heart with one cut if I so much as uttered a word. I believed him. I had no reason to doubt his horrible words and his eyes spoke that he had every intention to make good his threat. I tried to hold my legs closed for I knew what he had thought to do.

  He landed a punch to my face and he growled that I had better spread them or I would pay with my life. As he started to force himself upon me, there was a cry overhead and I watched in horror as my Ian seemed to fly over the rise, landing himself atop the back of the beast who sought to take my innocence that day. The shock of his weight upon the man was enough to make him roll off of me. I heard Ian yell for me to run. I gathered my rent clothes to myself as best I could, for they had been cut fair in half and I tried to get my legs to move. I could not pull myself from the spot and I stared in terror as Ian picked up a boulder and slammed it down on the head of the demon. It made such an awful sound; one I would ne’er forget, but I canna’ say the bloody bastard did not deserve it. He deserved it and worse for what he was about to do to my innocence that day.

  I knew the man was dead before he hit the ground.

  “Oh, Ian, what have ye’ done,” said I, for I knew there would be a reckoning for it Ian’s deed, despite the fact that he had saved me from untold violence.

  “I was nay going to let him violate ye’,” Ian replied, with tears streaming down his handsome but distraught face. I had never known Ian to look like that. Now as I recall that day, I am sure Ian would have gladly bashed the man’s brains out again and again if given the chance. Though we were but fledglings and not officially promised to one another, we belonged to each other. There was no denying it so if it came to protectin’ me, Ian saw to it. Gavin did, as well, for I was like a little sister to him.

  Gavin stood there, with a look as one cut out of stone and said, “Come, we must tell my da’ of this. He will know what to do.”

  Gavin took his plaid and wrapped it about me to shield my nakedness. I felt numb inside about what had nearly happened and what I had witnessed Ian do in order to save me. I went with them to speak to Gavin’s da’, but I could only stare ahead as tears silently dripped from my eyes. I did nay wish to speak of my shame to anyone, but we dinna’ have a choice for one man lay dead and it was by my Ian’s hand; though I dare say that monster’s blood was on all of our hands. There was going to be consequences for our folly below the rise that day.

  Gavin’s da’ took me before the Laird of our clan where I had to tell of the worst horror to that point in my life that I had ever known. I was ashamed and horrified but I had to speak the truth to protect both Ian and Gavin. It was all I could do and so I mustered the courage I needed, despite my shame and told the truth to Laird Donal. I thought I would die from the mortification of such a thing, but I had to speak in order to save Ian and Gavin. I daresay I would have done it again, even though it cost me greatly. Both Gavin’s da’ and the Laird listened to my terrible tale and they knew that the three of us would nay have lied about so grave a matter. I could see anger seething in the Laird’s gaze at the telling of our tale and I dinna’ know what he would do.

  At first, I thought he would somehow punish us all, but instead, he sent some of his hardened warriors to the MacKenzie lands and he delivered the dead man as a warning to MacKenzie himself. From that day forward, the MacKenzie forged a feud with MacCollum and Campbell alike that would cause more heartache to mothers and wives for days to come. Loathing festered for years; even after we all tried to forget about that horrible day in the glade, below the strange outcropping of rock where I lost my innocence, if not in the physical sense, but spiritually that day. I did nay know then that the hatred that lands with blood feuds comes from so deep a place. No amount of time would ever let that horrible day be forgotten or erased.

  Of course, we grew up, and I eventually married Ian. Gavin married a local girl, as well. Life had seemed to dull the memories of that desperate day with the passing of time as we settled into our roles in our new families. We were such fools to think that we could live our lives in peace when hatred simmered from the past to fester like a roiling poison. We had tried to believe that we were safe from harm as we lived with our new spouses and started to raise our families.

  We thought we were free from the danger and we were; rather we had been. That is until the winter when the MacKenzies raided our lands just for sport. They killed our sheep and they torched some of our stores of grain. They did nay seek to garner the sheep for themselves as raids often happen. Nay, they wanted to just waste precious resources for our people as a show of contempt and as retribution for what had happened so many moons ago.

  Well, I knew that many in our clan would want to seek revenge for such senseless destruction and though our clan thrived, we could nay afford to lose precious resources for our people. I should have known that Gavin and Ian would be first to rise to the fray and they vowed to stop the raiders from ruining any more of the MacCollum capitals. Mind ye’, the Campbells were part of the MacCollum clan at this time, and though Gavin’s da’ was chief of the Campbell branch, they still honored the high Laird, Donal MacCollum.

  I shall ne’er forget that night, as the men armed themselves to ride out to stop the wasteful destruction caused by the MacKenzie raiders. I can still see Ian proudly wrapped in his clan colors and his sword strapped to his back. He kissed me and with a wink he and the other men were off, drifting through the mist that shrouded heavy on the land. Oh, I remember that fateful night as if it were yester eve….

  ~~~~~

  ~ There was a chill in the air that came before the falling of the midwinter snow. This chill permeated the warm confines of the cottage and it seeped into the bones. Morag pulled her plaid shawl about her and waited for the men to return from the war council at MacCollum Keep. This was not a night for man or beast to be out roaming, but she knew there was trouble afoot. Aye, it caused the chill to tremble through her. This was not going to bode well, and Morag knew it. At times like these she felt the Sight was more of a curse than a gift.

  Those blasted MacKenzies were causing havoc again. They had slaughtered many head of sheep just for folly and they had torched one of the granaries as well. Laird Donal was furious at the senseless destruction and he had called for his warriors to meet in his privy chambers as the sun set early in the sky. Morag stood at the door of the cottage she shared with her husband Ian and looked out at the darkening night. Aye, it would snow, she thought. Perhaps by morning, if she guessed right.

  She did not like nights like this. Perhaps it was the bairn growing w
ithin her, but she wanted Ian safe and sound back where the warmth of the fire glowed in their comfortable abode. The temperature had dropped greatly since the sun sank in the sky and now an ominous mist was rising along the hills. It roiled up like the breath of a dragon and it sent a chill of foreboding to course through her veins. How long had the men been in council? Morag’s hand rested over the still only slight swell of her belly. The bairn was still very wee, but she felt its life force growing within her. Morag uttered a silent plea, “Ach, Ian, please get home with ye’. I dunna’ like this night.”

  He would say she was being superstitious or peculiar again and he would kiss her pout when she insisted that she was not being irrational because of the bairn she now carried. The winds of Fate howled through the glen and Morag almost thought it sounded like the cry of the Banshee. MacCollum, though Scots, were descended from the Irish, so the thought of the Banshee wrought fear into many a heart of her people.

  With trembling fingers, Morag forced herself to shut the door. It was getting too cold to stand in the doorway another minute. She moved toward the fire and she warmed herself. Only, the foreboding was still settled upon her shoulders, just as her plaid had been. She forced herself to do something; anything to take her mind off of the howling wind and the thoughts that were causing fear to burble in her heart.

  She sat herself down at the table and sorted through the herbs she had stored in preparation for the winter, when little grew beneath the snow. While it had only dusted a time or two so far, Morag knew the signs that promised a storm in the next day or so. With her mind set on her task and lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the door burst open and Ian’s shadow filled the frame of it.