I led m’horses down the desolate road until I found a man walkin’ between his house and his stables.
“Hallo!” I called, “I am lookin’ for someone. M’wife. She has become lost. I believe she might hae come tae this village yesterday?”
He waved me tae follow him intae the stables, bangin’ his feet tae loosen the mud and snow at the door. “Yer wife?”
“Aye, she is young, lost, and she canna speak Gaelic. Tis verra cold, I canna find her.”
He introduced himself as David and led me down the path and called in at another house, “Margar! Ye about?” An older woman peeked out, and waved us through her front door. She made us sit because I was, “too verra big tae stand” in her kitchen under the short ceiling.
She listened as I recounted m’tale, then wiped her hands on a cloth, wrapped herself with tartan, and we said goodbye tae David. I followed Margar out intae the cold.
We went door tae door, speakin’ tae the occupants of each house about the loss of m’wife. The villagers had closed their homes against the winter storm, news was nae travelin’ as it would in the summer months. After a time Margar led me intae the tavern tae once more inquire about Kaitlyn. They paid her more respect, but still had nae news. I bought Margar a whisky for the trouble and we discussed m’next step.
She explained tae me that the fortress was held by one Sir Colin Campbell, and that he was building a tower house. She even kent the year — 1551. I took a deep breath. Twould be almost six years afore the origin of the vessels. Och. I bought us another round of whisky. She told me Sir Colin and his family were residin’ there during the construction. She kent a great deal about the business of the Campbells, much like Madame Greer two hundred and fifty years from now.
I was invited tae shelter in David’s home, she told me it would be best for receivin’ news on m’wife, but I was concerned about being away from the fortress. I felt sure now twas the only place Kaitlyn might be.
So I mounted m’horse. I would present m’self at the fortress, with business for Sir Colin. If need be, I would pay him handsomely in exchange for information about Kaitlyn.
Thirty-one - Kaitlyn
At dawn I was nudged awake by a strong kick from Mary’s foot. As soon as I got to standing, I said, “Please, I need something to drink, please, Mary, water.”
She shoved me into the hard wooden chair, catching sight of the back of my skirt, wet. She yelled long, scolding and furious — I was stupid. I was ungodly. I was supposed to be a grown ass woman but I had peed on myself. The baby was screaming his head off in the corner of the room. She smacked me across the face — twice. Then stalked off, returning a moment later with a pewter cup half-full of water. It was not enough at all. She thrust forward a small hunk of bread. I choked the bread down first and then slammed the water. “Please, more, I need more for the milk.” I gestured at my breasts. “And where do I go to the bathroom?” I gestured something whooshing from between my legs and she fiercely pointed against the wall behind me. I hadn’t seen it from my corner, but that was the only spot in the room that it was hidden from. A chamber pot out in public. I peed trying to hold my head down in shame.
The baby was really screaming his head off by now. I wondered where his mother was... was she okay? I guessed he was about four weeks old. Smaller than Isla. Ugly. Which I hated to say because he might be an orphan. And wouldn’t there be someone, somehow to feed this baby? Why me? And was I now being forced to do this? Could I leave? And where would I go?
I returned to my hard chair and Mary brought the baby and I nursed him again, right and left. I watched and listened as Mary and another woman talked, and figured out the bairn’s name was Duncan. Then, as soon as he was done, he was immediately taken away.
I was told, not in words I understood, but in gestures, to get over to the corner and hide so no one would have to see me.