Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: The Master of Stair by Bowen Marjorie
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 4169 lines and 96515 words, and 84 pages
It would have been difficult to disbelieve her unconcern; Macdonald hesitated, not knowing what to do.
"Will you put me on my way?" she asked as a probe to his silence. "I am wet and cold--and most utterly lost."
At the note in her voice all his Highland hospitality woke.
"Will you come to Glencoe?" he asked simply.
She shook her head. "I must find my people," she said resolutely. "Tell me the way--they ride in the direction of Glenorchy."
Macdonald's eyes flashed.
"Jock Campbell's castle--you go there!" he cried.
"I go that way--not there," she answered, "but to Loch Awe."
He was appeased again. "Glenorchy is three miles from here," he said. "And Glencoe some ten--as you are a woman I will go with you to find your people."
She made no show of either gratitude or refusal. "I shall die of cold," she said impatiently. "Take the bridle and lead the way."
The drizzle had settled into a steady downpour; the sky was a merciless even gray; the distant hills wreathed with heavy rain clouds, the gloomy rocks about them running with water.
Macdonald took the horse's head in silence and led him across the squelching heather. They were at the top of the ravine; the country before them was broken and utterly wild, but he had no fear of losing his way while he had the use of his eyes. The woman shuddered closer into her coat. "Put me on the road to Glenorchy," she said. "My people will be looking for me."
"Would you not be afraid alone, Helen Fraser?" he asked.
"No," she answered quietly.
"Are you friendly with the Clan of Campbell?" he said, "for you must cross their lands."
"I know nothing of them," came the tired voice from the great collar. "But--I say--I am not afraid."
He was silent again; he knew little or nothing of the distant Clan of Frasers, he marveled at the dress and refined appearance of this woman: he had never seen any but the Campbell's women in this Lowland habit.
Neither spoke as they wound through the rocks and heather; he at the horse's head, heedless of the cold and rain; she huddled on the saddle, shivering under it.
She spoke at last so suddenly that he turned with a start.
"Who are those?" she said.
He looked in the direction her gloved hand pointed.
From the branch of a great fir-tree two men were dangling, the rain dripping forlornly from their soaked clothes and the fair hair that fell over their dead faces.
"Campbells," answered Macdonald. "Would there were more than two."
She turned her gaze from the dead men; her face was utterly unmoved.
"How you hate these Campbells, Macdonald of Glencoe," she said curiously.
He was bewildered by her note of wonder, turned it over in his mind and could think of nothing to say but:
"I am a prince of the Macdonalds."
"God fend me from these feuds!" she cried. "My people live at peace."
"They would not, Helen Fraser, if they were two hundred men alone in the country of the Campbells." He looked at her over his shoulder, his color risen. "To one side of us we have MacCallum More himself--to the other Jock Campbell of Breadalbane and his vassals swarm in their hundreds--but we do no homage--because there has been no Campbell yet dare enter Glencoe."
He had stopped with the force of his words and his fierce eyes measured her narrowly.
She gave her slow smile:
"Well--go on," she said. "I have no call to be the Campbells' friend."
He went on at his steady even pace and she said no more.
They were crossing a level tract of moor; once she looked back at the men on the fir-tree; the rain was blotting them from sight, but she could see them faintly, dark against the sky.
Presently the dismal screaming of a bird of prey broke the desolate stillness.
"There is an eagle--has found a meal," remarked Macdonald.
"How he skrieks!" she answered, and leaning from the saddle peered forward. "Look--ahead of us--"
A great brown eagle was hovering a few feet off the ground and another circled slowly above him.
"What have they found?" whispered the woman. She looked half-eagerly, half-fearfully; they were near enough for her to see a tumbled heap of plaid in the heather with something smooth and shining white in the midst.
The eagle wheeled his slow flight closer and she saw that his beak dripped with blood.
"Who are those he feeds on?" she asked very low.
Macdonald turned the horse's head away from the eagle's orgy.
"It is Campbell's tartan and a Campbell's skull," he said. "What else?"
She was still straining her eyes after the ghastly bundle they were leaving behind them.
"It is a woman!" she cried.
"Yes," he answered, "we got her yesterday from Jock Campbell's house--we burnt a house of his two days ago--you could see the flames from here." His eyes sparkled with pride. "They were three to one," he added, "but the Campbells always fight like Lowlanders."
She put her hand to a face grown ghastly white.
"You keep your eagles well fed," she said. "I would not be a Campbell in your hands, Macdonald of Glencoe!"
He looked up, puzzled at her tone; he had not properly seen her face nor could he see it now for the collar and the hat; it occurred to him that she did not understand the bitterness of this hate.
"There is the sword and the flame between us two," he said. "A Campbell has not broken bread with a Macdonald for a thousand years--we are the older race and by craft they have the mastery."
"Of the whole Highlands, I do think," she put in.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page