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IT WAS A CELEBRATION; a festival of spring not unlike those Stefan had often attended in his homeland, with a multitude of people gathered in the center of the village. Occasionally, men would size him up, but as soon as they realized Stefan was just a boy, none of them said anything about the Viking that got away.
Kannak and Stefan enjoyed the men with painted faces who acted the part of the village idiot. The jokesters walked through the crowd, made funny faces and occasionally danced a comical jig to the music of a flute. Tables held a variety of sweet fruits and breads, ale, mead and wine to complement the plentiful assortment of berries, meats and fish. It was all free for the taking and Stefan ate his fill.
Kannak took him to see the wide mouth of the river, the rafts and the fishing boats, most of which were moored across the river on the Clan Limond side. When they went back to the festival, he too was interested in all the items made by other clan members such as new sheepskin flasks, assorted leather pouches and weapons he would have liked taking home with them. But again he decided showing his wealth would be unwise.
Stefan turned from the tables and began to study the people instead. The Macoran clan had more than its share of elders each of whom looked to be in their early fifties. In his homeland, many did not live that long and no one was quite certain why. A man who married late in life was not likely to see his children grown and it was something to keep in a young man’s mind. Even so, Stefan was not the least bit interested in marriage.
*
AT THE EDGE OF THE village, two boys nearing the age of ten were fascinated with a campfire left unattended. First the twins spit on the fire to hear it sizzle, and then they tried to entice a cat to come to them hoping to throw it in the fire. To their chagrin the cat got away. They looked around for other things to throw in the fire, and found little more than sticks and the widow Sarah’s favorite marketing basket. Searc, the eldest by only minutes, tossed the basket in and ran. Quickly followed by his brother, Sionn, the two hid behind a cottage and peeked around the corner. No one came and they were not caught. They watched until the basket was consumed, and then exchanged shrugs. Not much excitement in that.
At last Searc had a grand idea. He found a long stick, wrapped a cloth around one end of it, set the cloth on fire and then carried it toward a horse tied to the branch of a tree. He hoped to set the horse’s tail on fire, but the terrified horse danced frantically until it managed to pull the reins free and then bolted toward the center of the village.
*
IN FRONT OF THE KEEP, Macoran and his wife sat in chairs on a raised landing with five steps on either end leading down to the courtyard. From there, he could see everything that was going on and the members of his clan could all see him. Their laird nodded his approval each time a woman brought a taste of this or that for his pleasure, glancing often at Jirvel who seemed intent on examining each of the baskets the other women had made. She was quite good at ignoring him – too good.
It was Macoran who spotted the runaway horse headed into the market place first. People quickly darted out of the way and two of the men tried to catch it, but neither was fast enough. Nor could they understand why the brown mare with a white mane and tail was running for its life.
In disbelief, Macoran stood up. Men began to shout a warning, but the playing of the flute and the noise of the crowd made it impossible to hear and...Jirvel was directly in the horse’s path. Panicked, Macoran added his shout to the others and started for the steps.
At the last second Stefan realized what was happening, dove in front of the horse and knocked Jirvel out of the way. He landed on top of her and was certain he hurt her. But he waited until the horse was gone, then quickly rolled off, sat up and turned Jirvel over. The look of shock on her face said it all and an instant later, Macoran scooped her up off the ground and was holding her in his arms.
“I hit her too hard, I knocked the wind out of her,” a frantic Stefan said as he scrambled to his feet. The stunned crowd had grown completely silent, each eye held on the woman who was still not breathing.
Macoran leaned her back until her head nearly touched the ground and then jerked her up, “Breathe Jirvel, ye may not leave us, do ye hear me lass?” She did not respond and Macoran was horrified.
Just as worried, Kannak grabbed her mother’s arm, “Breathe, mother, please breathe”
He was about to try tipping her back again when at last she blinked her eyes, drew in a huge gulp of air and started to cry. “Dinna weep, ye are safe now,” Macoran whispered.
Kannak finally remembered to take a breath of her own and when she saw the worry in her laird’s eyes, she tried to reassure him. “Mother always cries when she be frightened.”
Standing not far away, Stefan was beside himself, “I am so sorry, Jirvel.”
“Sorry? Ye saved her life, laddie. The horse surely would have killed her.” Macoran turned his attention back to the woman in his arms. “Are ye hurt, can ye stand?” She nodded, so he lowered her feet to the ground and held on until she got her balance.
Everyone was watching them, even Macoran’s wife who still sat in her chair on the landing and Jirvel began to feel ill at ease. She wiggled free of his hand, straightened her frock, brushed the dirt off her long sleeves and smiled at her daughter. “I am fine now.” But when she started to curtsey to her laird, a pain shot through her right foot.
She tried to hide her wince, but Macoran was watching her face too closely and took hold of her arm again. He looked around for a chair, spotted one and helped her to it. As soon as she sat down, Macoran knelt down, removed her shoe and felt her ankle for broken bones. “Can ye move it, lass?”
“Well enough to kick ye.”
He smiled, several of the people laughed and the mood changed back to the festivities of the day. But Macoran was not convinced until she moved her foot up and down and then side to side. He slipped her shoe back on and stood up. Then he turned to Stefan. “She is to rest and I will have a lad see all of ye home safely.” He watched Kannak fuss over her mother for a moment, and then he put a fatherly arm around Stefan’s shoulders and began to weave the boy through the crowd toward the landing. “All o’ the members o’ my clan are precious to me and I am tortured that I did not realize Kannak and her mother were alone. Tell me, what can I do to help them?”
Unsure of how much he should say, Stefan hesitated. “Well...”
Macoran stopped and removed his arm from the boy’s shoulders. “Go on, I need to hear it.”
“When Kannak’s father left he took all the weapons. I worry when I leave them alone to go on the hunt.”
Laird Macoran spat on the ground, “That scunner! I will see to it. What else?”
“They have no hooks for fishing. I go after dark when the fish will come to the light and I can spear them. And...they need new clothing.”
“Yer a good laddie and ye will be a great lad someday. Tell me, what shall yer reward be for saving Jirvel’s life?”
A slow grin crossed Stefan’s face, “Yer sword.”
Macoran roared with laughter and slapped the boy on the back. “When ye have saved ten lasses, it will be yers. Come, I will have ye meet my wife and children.” He stopped, glanced back to see if Jirvel was alright and then leaned just a little closer. “My wife be not so friendly, but pay her no mind. Her father made her marry me and she be unhappy still.”
*
FOR THE BETTER PART of two hours, Stefan sat beside Laird Macoran on the landing, watched, listened and talked when called upon to do so. Just as Macoran warned, his wife was standoffish and said nothing. She looked incredibly bored but Stefan suspected there was little she did not notice. Laird Macoran’s twin sons, Searc and Sionn, were not in the least standoffish. They behaved when they were with their father but once out of his sight, they peeked around the side of a cottage, decided Stefan was the funniest thing they had ever seen, pointed at him and laughed. Soon they scampered away to find more exciting mischief.
Stefan ignored them and went back to watching the festival now that he had a high perch from which to observe. What he enjoyed most was watching Macoran watch Jirvel and then watching her ignore him. It was a sort of game they played and on the few occasions when Jirvel looked at him, Macoran seemed to perk up because of it. Conversely, he stiffened every time another man approached her and there were several over the course of the afternoon.
What fascinated Stefan even more was how much Kannak looked like her father and he wondered how no one else noticed. But then, many in the clans were related in one way or another and most in the Macoran Clan had red hair and green eyes.
*
TRUE TO HIS WORD, MACORAN had a man see them home safely and left them with a sword, two daggers, a fishing spear and small iron fishing hooks. As soon as they were home and Jirvel was comfortable in her bed with her foot propped up to help the swelling, both she and Kannak would not rest until they knew every word he and Macoran exchanged.
Kannak sat on the bed next to her mother and was especially worried, “Did he ask about yer clan in the north?”
“Aye,” was all Stefan was willing to say.
She lowered her head and glared at him through the top of her eyes. “Are ye not to tell us?”
“If ye must know, I told o’ a very tall man in the north who is slow o’ wit, a plentiful waterfall and land with few trees. I may have mentioned I prefer trees.”
“And what else?” asked Kannak.
He winked at Jirvel and headed for the doorway. “I told him the lasses were not as beautiful in the north as they are here.” With that, he walked out of the bedchamber, went to the front door and checked to be sure it was bolted. Then he climbed into bed and covered himself. They were still giggling when he fell into a peaceful sleep.
*
TWO DAYS LATER, MACORAN had a horse and a good size collection of woven cloths delivered including linen for undergarments. It was just in time for Stefan’s long pants would be too short soon.
Instead of being a tall, sleek, black horse, this one was mostly white with one large brown spot on its rump. It was also short and stocky with an ample width fit for hard work and long hours of travel. Until Stefan got bigger, all three could comfortably ride this horse together which was a good thing because the stallion disappeared again.
Kannak and Stefan were thrilled with the new horse...Jirvel was suspicious. The word ‘bribery’ came to mind. But as time passed and nothing was asked of her or Kannak, Jirvel began to take to the mare herself, riding her after the day’s work was done, grooming her and making sure she would come when Jirvel whistled. It was yet another measure of comfort and safety she was happy to have. Once, the mare came to the door of the cottage and pushed it open with its head as though it was looking for Jirvel. For days, Stefan and Kannak could not stop laughing about it.
*
THE EARLY DAYS OF SPRING turned into the long days of summer and they had sunlight for all but a few hours a night. With the planting finished, Stefan fixed things in the cottage and the shed when it was raining, and clearing heather from more land when it was not. He tended the garden, hunted and fished while Jirvel and Kannak made new clothing for them all.
If only he knew how to make shoes. At length, he decided to tear his old pair apart to make a pattern, cut new, larger pieces from a deer hide and make his own. They were not the best by any means, but they would do. Kannak laughed at him until he challenged her to make a better pair. That was the end of her laughter on that subject.
Then one day, after the women returned from bartering the belts they made, Jirvel produced a new pair made by the Macoran cobbler. The cobbler used his old, torn apart pair to make the patterns, they fit perfectly with a little room to grow and he was so pleased, he hugged her.
