Page 5 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

3

The Gift

Lyall had decided to buy Fenella a horse, since he felt she needed a gentle creature to lift her spirits on the days when she missed her mother too much. She had always been fond of horses, but had never been allowed to ride one on her own before. But now that she was sixteen all that had changed.

“You need to be riding on your own horse now,” Lyall remarked casually over breakfast one morning. “I cannot send you out on a cart anymore and it is too inconvenient for me to carry you everywhere. Consider it a late birthday present.”

Fenella looked at him in disbelief, then squealed, jumped up from her chair, and wrapped her arms around his neck, covering his face with tiny kisses. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you Lyall!" she cried in rapture. “When can we go and get it? Today?”

Lyall, laughing, gently pushed her away to escape the onslaught of kisses. “We can go into Inverness at the end of the month," he replied. He got the response he expected.

“But that is two weeks away!" she moaned plaintively. “How am I to wait as long as that?”

Lyall sighed and shrugged. “As Paw used to say, Ella, these things are sent to try us.” Then, looking at her disappointed face, he suddenly felt a shaft of irritation. “Do not be ungrateful, Ella. You have so much more than the girls in the village, so why do you not carry on Mammy’s work? I will find someone to help you, but you can make some food today and put it in parcels for tomorrow.”

At once Fenella’s face lit up. “You are right, my wise brother. I am ungrateful. Thank you for the wonderful gift.” Then she kissed him again and skipped out, leaving Lyall to think about the person who hadn’t left his mind—Ailith Galloway.

Fenella’s horse could not be just any member of the equine species; oh no, it had to be dapple-gray because it was prettier than any other color in Fenella’s opinion, and it had to be a mare because they were gentler than stallions. The latter part suited Lyall, since he did not enjoy the more temperamental males except as stud animals.

There was a horse fair in Inverness once a month, always on the last Saturday, and it usually had a happy carnival atmosphere. All sorts of horses could be found there, but Fenella especially loved the heavy, powerful plow horses with their Roman noses and huge feathered feet. Despite their gargantuan size they were the gentle giants of the equine world.

There were tubby little Shetland ponies, tall, spindly, nervous race horses, and sturdy, muscular horses that were used for hunting. These were bred for stamina, and could chase and wear down prey so efficiently that the hunted animal almost died of exhaustion.

However, the kind of horse Fenella sought was a palfrey, a dainty riding horse that was perfect for the undemanding needs of a noblewoman. Since Lyall would not have allowed her to buy an animal that did not come up to his very strict standards, Fenella was beginning to despair before they found one that looked just right.

“How old is she?” Lyall asked as he walked around the neat little horse that was placidly standing chewing a mouthful of hay, oblivious to the fact that she was about to start a completely new life. She was not dapple-gray, but a deep chestnut, though Fenella had somehow managed to forgive her for that fact, having been completely smitten with her at first sight.

“Four years auld, sir,” the seller said. “An’ gentle as a lamb. Yer young lady will hae nae problems wi’ this yin." He was a stocky, ruddy-faced type with fists like hams who looked as though he took no cheek from anyone. He kept his arms crossed defensively across his chest, and if Lyall had not been there Fenella would have found him terrifying.

“And how much are you asking for her?” Lyall drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Twelve pounds, sir,” the man replied gruffly. “Worth every penny.”

Lyall laughed. “I hope you are jesting, wee man!”

“Outrageous!” said a familiar woman’s voice from behind them. They turned to see Ailith striding into the enclosure, her eyes blazing with anger. “I could buy a war horse far cheaper than this mare! Besides"—she looked down at the horse’s hooves—“this animal has thrush in her hooves. Where have you been keeping her? A swamp?" She knelt down on the muddy straw, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was dirtying her clean gray skirt. “These nails need trimming too. Do you know nothing about looking after horses or do you just not care?" Her voice was scathing as she stood, arms akimbo, glaring at him. “For shame, you dirty beggar! I will give you three pounds for this horse.”

“I cannae let her go fer three pounds, Mistress!” The man took a step towards Ailith but Lyall forestalled him, stepping up to stand alongside her. His face was thunderous, and his hands were balled into fists as if ready to strike the man, but Ailith stopped him by clutching his arm.

“No, M'Laird, do not skin your knuckles on him. He is not worth the pain," she said scathingly.

“I have a wife an’ bairns! Ye’re takin’ bread oot their mouths!" he protested.

Ailith calmly stepped forward and plucked a stoppered flask from his pocket. She uncorked it and the sweet pungent smell of whisky filled the air. “No, this is taking the bread out of their mouths!" she cried fiercely. “My name is Ailith Galloway; perhaps you have heard of me? I buy and sell horses and I have not the heart to let this one be treated like this anymore!" she counted out three pounds and gave them to him. “Feed your family with this, you disgusting creature, but before you do anything else—go and wash! They can likely smell you in the Shetlands!”

Ailith, with one last venomous glare at the seller, poured the whisky onto the straw, then gently took the horse’s halter and led her away. She walked the animal for several hundred yards, her lovely face a mask of fury, before she stopped and looked back, then she sighed and shook her head. “I am sorry for that," she said sadly. “If you still want this mare, I will give her to you freely, then you can sell her and buy another. Otherwise I will keep her. She is very sweet-natured, I think, and will make a lovely mount for a lady.”

“That is why we were buying her,” Lyall informed her, then he smiled. “That was quite a performance, Mistress! I knew that his price was extortionate, but I would perhaps have parted with five pounds.”

“She is worth five pounds,” Ailith conceded. “And no doubt I would have paid that too, if he had not been too drunk to bargain with me, or if he had been a person who really cared about his animals, but he does not. I have a good mind to go and punch him.”

“No, you are too small,” Lyall said grimly. “Let me do it!”

The threat was not a serious one, but as she looked at Lyall’s tall muscular frame, she laughed. “No! One blow from you would kill him!”

Lyall smiled, then counted out three pounds and held it out to her on his palm, but she closed his fingers over it. “You can buy quite a lot of woolen fabric for this amount," she said. “I will get you some at a good price and you can make children’s clothes with it. I hate to see them in rags. The horse is yours—consider her a belated birthday gift to you, Fenella. ”

Lyall was warmed by Ailith’s generosity and Fenella hugged her as if she would never let her go.