The blask rood

I found Rhona sitting on a stool outside the storehouse, peeling the outer skins from a bunch of onions. 'To make the dye for Caitriona's new gown,' she announced. Then, seeing my expression, Rhona laughed, and said, 'Did you think I would make you eat them for your supper?'

'If you cooked them, I would eat them,' I replied.

'Oh, you would…' she began. Taking the bowl from her lap, I raised her to her feet. 'And what is this you're about?'

'It is a fine day, my love. Come out with me.'

'I thought you had work to do at the church.'

'The stone has not arrived yet, and father can look after the builders. I thought we might ride down to the cove.'

She stepped closer, holding her head to one side. 'And you think I have nothing better to do than go flitting off with you all day?' I saw the hidden smile playing at her lips. 'It is well other people have plenty to do since the young lord of this manor is an idle scapegrace.'

'Well,' I sniffed, 'if you do not wish to go, I suppose I could ask one of the serving-maids. Perhaps the one with the soft brown eyes would not spurn an invitation from Lord Murdo's handsome son.'

'Lord Murdo's handsome son,' she said, her mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. 'I happen to know Bishop Eirik is away to Inbhir Ness on business for the abbey.'

'Lady,' I said, drawing her close to steal a kiss, 'it was myself I was talking about, not my bookish brother.' I made to kiss her then, but she turned her face and I caught her cheek instead.

'Not here in the yard where everyone can see!' she gasped, putting her hands on my chest and pushing me gently away.

'Then come away with me.' I slipped my hands around her slim waist and untied the apron covering her pale green gown. 'The day is beautiful, and so are you. Let us take our pleasure while we may.'

'Someone has been listening to the Maysingers,' she said, drawing the apron over her head. 'Very well, I will go with you, Duncan Murdosson.' She bent and picked up the bowl of onion husks. 'But I must put these away first.'

'I will saddle the horses and meet you at the gate,' I said, stealing another kiss and hurrying away.

The horses were quickly readied and we were soon racing over the gorse- and bracken-covered hills to the south of the estate. The lands of my father's realm are great in extent, but the soil is thin and rocky in most places; also, our vassals are not so numerous as other estates, which means that we must all work the harder to survive. That said, there are good fields and grazing land to the west, and fine fishing in the wide bay between the high, sheltering headlands.

Banvard has prospered us well enough, and while we may not have possessed the ready wealth of more favoured realms, we nevertheless raised enough in grain and cattle to feed ourselves and our vassals, with plenty left over for gainful trade. From what my mother had told me about her youth in Orkneyjar, it seemed to me that growing up in Caithness was much the same. And, like my father, life in the wild, empty hills suited me.

Not that we had forsaken Orkney forever. Heaven forbid it! We regularly traded at Kirkjuvagr, and Murdo often took part in the councils there. Once a year, the king held court at Orphir, and we always attended. Though we were Lords of Scotland now, in many ways those low-scattered northern islands still held us in their sway. Indeed, on a crisp day, we can see the Dark Isles across the water; like storm clouds spreading along the horizon, or like a bevy of grey seals, the islands raise their sleek heads from the surrounding sea.

On the day that Rhona and I rode out, however, my mind was on other things. With the sun on my back, my lovely lady wife by my side, and a good horse under me, my thoughts were on the sweet joy of life itself. I felt the fresh sea air on my face and smelled the damp earth and the flower-sweet scent of green growing things, and the blood ran strong in me.

We reached the cove, and I tethered the horses at the clifftop where they could get a little grass. Rhona and I climbed down onto the sandy beach where we settled in a sun-warmed hollow in the long sea grass. Rhona untied the bundle she had brought with her and produced a loaf of bread, a lump of cheese, and an apple-all of which I cut up with my knife and shared out between us. After our little meal, we lay back in the hollow and enjoyed the warmth of the sand and sun, and the sound of the lazy waves on the shore. Rhona came readily into my embrace and we abandoned ourselves to our loving, and afterward dozed in one another's arms.

I awoke with my head upon my wife's breast, and the sun lowering in the west. The tide was lapping around the base of the dune; the shadow of the cliffs had reached our once-sunny hollow, and the air was growing cool. I lifted my head and kissed my lady, and she awoke with a shiver. 'We should be getting back,' I suggested, 'before they send the hounds to find us.'

'One more kiss, my love,' said Rhona, pulling me close again.

We dressed quickly, returned to the horses, and rode slowly back to the dun, enjoying the fiery extravagance of a setting sun which set the heavens ablaze with scarlet, purple, and gold.

Even before reaching the road leading up to the fortress, I knew something was amiss.

Lashing our mounts to speed, we hastened up the road, through the open gates and into the empty yard. I dismounted and helped Rhona from her saddle; letting the reins dangle, we started for the hall, and were met by Brother Padraig. I took one look at his face, and said, 'Is it over then?'

'Your uncle died a short while ago,' he answered simply.

I nodded. 'May God have mercy on his soul,' I whispered, and felt Rhona slip her hand into mine.

'The lord and lady are with the body now,' Padraig informed us. 'Abbot Emlyn is saying prayers.'

'Poor soul,' sighed Rhona. 'Was anyone with him when he died?'

'I was at his bedside, my lady,' the monk answered. 'He did not awaken from his sleep. I thought to rouse him at sunset to give him a drink of the potion, but his spirit had flown.'

We went in to find a veritable crowd around the dead man's bed – serving-men and maids mostly, a few vassals, and half a dozen monks in attendance with Emlyn. They were standing with their heads bowed, hands folded, as the good abbot softly intoned the prayers for the soul of the newly departed. Rhona and I came to stand behind the monks, and listened until Emlyn concluded his prayer, whereupon the brothers arranged themselves in order around the dead man's bed, raised it, and began carrying it from the hall.

Moving to my father's side, I said, 'I am sorry he's gone. I cannot help feeling we should have done more for him.'

Murdo shook his head. 'He wanted nothing from us in his life, but to be allowed to die in peace. As he asked, so he was given.' He appeared about to say more, but turned away abruptly, following the monks out into the yard.

My mother laid her hand on my sleeve as she passed by. 'There is an end to all things,' she whispered, giving my arm a comforting squeeze. 'Let this also end.'

I wondered at her words, and would have asked her what she meant, but she moved on quickly, and Rhona came up beside me. 'It is sad,' she sighed.

'Only a few days ago, no one cared whether he was alive or dead,' I reminded her. 'Nothing much has changed.'

Rhona looked sideways at me. 'But everything has changed,' she said.

Women, I think, feel these things differently. I do not pretend to understand them.

Torf's body was taken to the nearby monastery where it was washed and wrapped in a shroud of clean linen, and prepared for burial. I had long heard it said-and now know it to be true-that the Roman Church is bereft in the face of death. The rites attending a soul's passing are solemn and severe; the Roman priests make no effort to lighten the burden of grief to be borne by the mourners. It is almost as if they view death as a punishment for the audacity of having accepted the Gifting Giver's boon of life, or as the sorry and inevitable end of sinful flesh.