Page 10 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

Margaret read it, and it had much the same effect on her as it had on Malle. Tears trickled down her face as she read about Donnan’s sadness.

“I heard that Donnan had asked to join him as a lay brother in the Monastery of St Kentigern. Donnan wrote to his brothers and his father for a while but after a few years he died. Some say of a broken heart although nobody really knows for sure.”

“Paw never talks about this story, Mammy,” Malle said thoughtfully. “It seems that because no one ever found out the cause of Isobell’s death, things became violent.”

“I have heard something about it,” Margaret answered, “but I have not thought about it for a long time. The feud now is not open warfare—the fact that Laird Dunbar would talk to you at all is proof of that, but frankly I was amazed that he would even have you on his land. But I had heard that he was a much more reasonable man than many of his predecessors.” She thought for a moment, then decided to tell her more.

“What I heard was this: After Donnan died, and because Jamie had become a monk, the Lairdship passed to the youngest son, Colin, on his father’s death. Colin had no wish to be a laird at all. He was more interested in flirting with the local ladies, especially the married ones, and this gave him a bad reputation among the local nobility, and the Dunbars were no exception. As you can imagine, it gave them an excuse to dislike him even more, and to deepen the rift between the two families. However, he did his duty, got married, and had a son.

“Colin was a wastrel and a seducer, and he was fond of his whisky, so when he suddenly found himself under attack from the Dunbars he was rather unprepared. It was his wife Anabella who rallied the troops and brought all their defenses to bear against the Dunbars.

“However, there were many families whose loyalties were split. It was devastating—the most violent time in the history of the two families. And many innocent people were killed, most of them among the common people. The tragedy is that although the violence eventually stopped the feud carried on, and does to this day.” She sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. “Malle—I hate it!” She was angry.

“I hate the whole affair and the stupidity of it. I do not think Isobell was murdered, but I think she died naturally of some condition no one knew about, perhaps her heart. Maybe we can explore further and see if a physician monk examined her corpse. There are many such educated men at the big monasteries.” Then something struck her. “Where did you find those letters, Malle? I thought I knew where all our documents are kept.”

Malle sighed and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “I will tell you soon, Mammy, but let me sleep on these things first. I am very tired.”

“Tell me tomorrow,” Margaret said sternly. “I am exhausted too. I need you to trust me, Malle. Now goodnight, love.” She put her arms around her daughter and embraced her tightly. “We must find a good husband for you soon, darling. It is past time.”

“I am in no rush, Mammy,” she answered, yawning. “And there are not too many young suitors hammering at the gates!”

“Not yet!” Margaret released her, laughing. “You are seventeen, young lady, and beautiful. It is time we had a ceilidh for you so you can meet all the young lairds—but this time you must not sneak upstairs away from your guests!”

Malle sighed and smiled as they began walking towards their bedrooms. “Mammy, I do not want to be married. To wake up in bed next to some great hairy man? No, not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Margaret put an arm around her shoulders. “You will not be saying that when you meet the right big hairy man, Malle. He will completely change your mind, I promise.”

Craig Dunbar crossed Malle’s mind fleetingly, but she chased him away.

7

Isobell’s Grave

The next morning Malle decided to use her daily ride to visit the cemetery where both the Dunbar and MacEwan clans were buried to visit Isobell’s grave and pay her respects. However, Margaret had other ideas. When her husband had left the breakfast table, and Malle stood up to do likewise, Margaret caught her arm.

“I would like to know where you got those documents,” she demanded.

“I found them in a secret place, Mammy,” Malle said resignedly. She had long since given up trying to keep anything from her mother. Malle looked up into her mother’s green eyes, which had now darkened with determination. “There are many more in there, and it will take a long time to go through them.”

If Malle thought that this would deter Margaret, she was sadly mistaken; in fact, it did the opposite.

“Then the sooner we get started the better,” Margaret said grimly. Malle said nothing for a moment, so Margaret waited and drummed her fingers on the table. Malle sighed inwardly. She had wanted to keep the storeroom a private place where she could be alone and no one could find her, but her mother did not give up easily.

“Very well, Mammy,” she said in a defeated tone, and led Margaret reluctantly to the library, where she pulled out the book and led the way into the hidden room behind the bookcase.

Margaret gasped when she saw it. “This is a treasure trove, Malle!” she exclaimed.

“It is,” Malle agreed. “I have tried to put everything in some kind of order but it needs a different kind of mind from mine to do it!”

Margaret looked at her fondly. “Not you,” she laughed. “Leave it to me, and we will see if we can piece some more of our family history together. I would love to find out about all of it!” She gave Malle’s backside a playful pat. “Go riding and do not pass into Dunbar land. I do not care what the Laird says or how well intentioned he may be, but we are only safe if we stay on our side of the Cut.”

Malle nodded and turned away.

“Promise me, Malle,” Margaret insisted, her voice stern and commanding. Malle knew that disobeying her mother when she spoke in that tone was not a good idea!

“I promise, Mammy,” she replied, smiling. “Don’t worry about me.” She turned away and left, but Margaret MacEwan watched her as she walked out.

I am her mother, she thought. It is my duty to worry.