Appassionato

Katherine 1687 AD

Gasping for breath, I pause just inside the kirk. As my vision adjusts to the dark, medieval lighting, my senses are assaulted by the scent of burning candles, drying herbs, and moldering stones. Quickly, I scan the interior and find the nave deserted. Collecting my thoughts, skirts, and composer, I calmly walk to a pew and sit, assuming a look of abject devotion.

My heart is beating madly from the constriction of my corset from my headlong flight through Glasgow. Seamus and I had performed in a local tavern. We suspected the Campbell, or his minions, had discovered our mission. Ending our performance with a passionate kiss that left no illusions to the audience, we retired to the rooms above. The chamber maid and tavern owner covered our exit with a cacophony of grunts and squeals. I had no doubt they were not acting.

As I sat in the pew, I fervently hoped Seamus had reached the croft without suspicion. He only had his wits to defend himself if the Campbell’s minions accosted him on the street. Once at the cottage, he had plenty of weapons to choose from, but the best outcome would be fooling the mercenaries into believing Seamus a simple, drunken crofter. I prayed my husband still lives….

Seamus

I must buy Katherine time as she flees to the Kirk with information vital to our mission. I must preserve the dissimulation of a drunken tavern patron tottering home. Keeping my wits about me, I rambled down Argyll Street to Renfield Street. I staggered on to Hope Street and as dawn approached, I wearily shuffled down Dumbarton Road, Great Western Road, through the town center to Sauchiehall Street, and finally to Duke Street. I fumbled with my sporan to find a key to the ramshackle cottage bearing a sign “Angus Ambersan – Crofter.” Once in the cottage, my thoughts wandered and I worried about Katherine. Did she make it to the Kirk and Father Delagarty? Hands folded, I asked and prayed that my wife yet lives….

Clan MacDonald in 1685 AD

A crowd was milling about the village of Glencoe. Unless an onlooker knew this clan, no one would know that many of those looking at wares, gossiping near the apothecary, and drinking at the inn, were not local. Many traveled days and some started weeks ago to gather, conduct business, arrange marriages, and see relations separated by topography. It was dangerous for clan members to come together in force, but the clans needed these gatherings to properly govern, care for, and renew alliances between blood relatives, blood brothers, and associated clans. During these gatherings Lairds met, Clan Chiefs recruited warriors, men practiced battle skills, and… lassies plotted. Lads looked for possibilities with posturing, boasting, and bravado. These displays were a way to blow off steam, end disputes, and challenge each other to see who the best leaders would be.

Occasionally things became a little too quarrelsome and threatened to turn into a row and a ruckus. Alasdair Maclean, Laird of the MacDonalds of Glencoe, summoned his youngest son Alexander MacDonald, “Alex! Gie ower hear an' listen loon. Gang fin' Seamus an' his crew. Th' men ur gettin' radge an' need entertainment tae lighten th' muid.” Alex knew Seamus and company, through the cover of entertainment, could sooth hot tempers and gather intelligence in the hushed conversations. Even whilst singing a bawdy song Seamus could read lips. Off Alex went to fetch the troupe.

While the assembled warriors argued, the Maclean mused. He never ceased to be amazed at what Seamus could hear. In the Laird’s employ for the last year, Seamus had approached Alasdair to provide the castle with entertainment. The true value of these minstrels however, was their loyalty to Laird Maclean, Clan MacDonald, and the uncanny ability of Seamus and Katherine to coax their way into any level of society. Seamus and Katherine were uniquely qualified to engage in espionage as a second profession and unknown to Laird Maclean, it all started in a small pub in the year 2017.

Travelers

Glencoe has a magical effect and Katherine poured herself a bit of Rhenish and slowly lost focus as she reminisced…It seemed so long ago that the weight of the world was just too much, and an evening of music was sorely needed. My friend Aileen told me about a duo that played only a few miles from my home. I enjoyed singing and knew quite a few staples of Celtic music, so I messaged, “Is it Ok to sing along?” To my utter delight, the responder said, “It is encouraged!”

The Craic Haus was an authentic Irish pub landed smack dab in the middle of the suburbs in Escondido, California. I walked in and I felt obliged to go introduce myself since the band took the time to answer my messaging. The man on stage immediately knew who I was and greeted me by name! I was astounded that this Adonis of a man would recognize me considering that my avatar was my horse!

I took a seat near the stage and relaxed. Seamus and James transported me through the songs and tunes, to a time and world that only existed in the history books and bardic tales. The “boys” started the evening off with introductions about a Scot playing in an Irish pub, his side kick James, and then Seamus started singing. The atmosphere in the pub tingled. As I looked onto the stage, Seamus met my eyes. It was as if the entire pub ceased to exist but for the music he was singing and the unspoken chemistry that instantly ignited from across the room. I had found my home. The one where nothing intrudes, and for a short time, everyone was transported to a place where bards enable the listeners to participate in the fantasy that they weave, the stories they tell, and emotions can be exposed without care.... Back to reality, Katherine sipped her Rhenish, stared into the flames of the fireplace, and smiled.

Seamus watched as Katherine’s eyes softened. The look was one when she become lost in the past. I too lost myself in the past…. Almost done setting up. I turned and Katherine walked in the door. She was dressed for work and damn, she had hidden her assets well last week in a t-shirt and sweatpants! To top that off, her hair was down, and it reached to the bottom of her calves. Muttering to myself, “Hen God but th' length ay 'at hair pit a serioos strain oan ma self composure!” I smiled a big, crowd pleasing grin at her and inside I chuckled thinking, “I have this effect on all women when I turn on the charm. But with Katherine, I mean it.” Seamus, coming out of his reverie, realized he did indeed, “mean it.” Not trying to smother the huge grin lighting his face, Seamus downed his ale and poured himself another.

The rest of the band had their own musings as they sipped Rhenish or gulped warm ale. At Glencoe they could relax and put away the skills of wit and the physical weapons needed for survival when on the road. Selecting knowledge from the future carefully, it was imparted disguised as information gathered while performing amongst other clans and households of import. Sometimes performing together, often parted into smaller groups or singly, their work was suffused with danger and fraught with intrigue as they entertained the populace for the sheer joy of enabling the people to escape reality for a few hours.

Everyone came out of their musing as a loud knocking jolted all to high alert. Tense and reaching for weapons concealed on their persons, Seamus answered the door dirk in hand and grabbed the person causing the ruckus. “God dammit Alex, yer over exuberance at th' duir is likely tae gie yer throat slit!” Alex was taken aback by how vehement Seamus was. Normally Seamus was nothing but kind and fun to be around. “Am sorry Seamus, but things ur heatin' up fur mah da an' th' war chiefs. Laird Maclean sent me runnin' tae fetch ye.” Seamus immediately softened his manner, “Sorry tae bellaw at ye loon, but we waur jist havin' a bit ay Rhenish an' ye startled us wi' th' loch of yer knock.” Turning to the company, Seamus started to galvanize everyone to gather instruments and brace themselves to bring the room of hot heads back into a more cordial atmosphere… or be ready to break up the fights that could also erupt!

Enemy Territory

Seamus was angry at himself. He was genuinely jealous! He had noticed Katherine speaking her mind freely during the evening. She tended to get loud when she had a bit to drink. This time, her mouth wasn’t the only thing that had him troubled. Every man in the place was flocking to her vibrant, carefree, and beautiful essence. Their performance that night had been the more bawdy songs and Katherine had used her assets to full advantage. Most especially, she had egged on Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon. A very dangerous game she played, but a necessary one for this mission. Seamus had become increasingly angry with her for flaunting herself even after the performance had ended.

Katherine had retired early having had enough of Janet’s outrageous gossiping. First, she went to the kitchens to grab some water for the inevitable midnight thirst after too much wine. As she passed a window on the way to the stairs, she became utterly astonished and humiliated. Seamus was talking on the balcony with James. He was furious with her and said things that gave no quarter. “Oh my God” slipped out and she heard an expletive in Gaelic, along with her name. She ran up the stairs to their chambers, unshed tears almost blinding her.

An Unchecked Tongue 1690 AD

I really tried, really, I did. It is a failing of mine, this incredibly quick brain of mine. It has a habit of taking over my body and mouth at the most inconceivable times. Tonight, Seamus took umbrage when I made remarks to Janet that had barely concealed innuendo as to her nefarious schemes and vagaries.

Catty doesn’t begin to cover how inappropriate I was this night. I had indulged in quite a bit of the Campbell’s excellent Claret. When I started my 3rd glass, I was ready for some calling out of the “Lady” Janet Campbell. She was an easy target tonight herself having indulged in copious quantities of wine. As she became loose of tongue, she baited me, knowing I am strong of opinion and am wont to engage in verbal repartee when provoked. I missed all the subtle cues Seamus threw at me, his verbal attempts to steer me clear, the body language telling me I have gone where no woman should ever go. His gaze catching mine, attempting to tell me to back down and behave.

Katherine had seen Seamus getting more and more irritated all evening. When he entered the room, he was glaring at her whilst he tore off his neck cloth, sputtering in broad Scots in a volume just low enough Katherine couldn’t make out what he was mumbling. The intonation spoke volumes as he continued to forcefully remove items of clothing such that he might rent his clothes.

Now, I must face his wroth. I couldn’t look him in the eye when he finally came upstairs. I am incapable of masking my emotions on my face and as he advanced toward me clad only in his shirt, I was slightly panic stricken. As I sat on the chair to the side of the fireplace, my head bend in abject mortification, I knew that I had offended him, given him cause to be disappointed in me. I was unable to keep the trembling of my hands still as he spoke to me in a gentler tone than I expected, “No need to be so morose.”

I looked askance at him, my eyes threatening to overflow with unshed tears. I was unable to say anything in my defense without sounding trite, platitudinous, or outright indifferent. He had to take the lead if I was to receive a scolding. Seamus wasn’t my enemy, but damn if I didn’t feel like I was about to receive a sentence of banishment. I couldn’t bear the censure in his eyes, the clenching of his roguish jaw. It was bad enough I could feel his ire as palpable as an extra “person” in the room, condemning me for the one thing I am most fretful of committing. The unbridled castigation of my rampant mouth coupled with my lack of inhibition when I’ve had a bit to drink.

“Katherine…” Seamus tone was hard, but not harsh. I attempted to meet his gaze and failed miserably. He sat opposite of me. His body language told me he would rather be anywhere but here, facing me. I knew, at the heart of this rebuke, this man was trying to ameliorate behaviors inherent in my temperament. I must not only pay heed to his words but convey to him a willingness to accept what he says as truth.

“It's simple. Ye shoods nae bevvy. It brings oot th' warst in ye.”Katherine, ye hae a penchant fur 'spikin yer min' under sober circumstances, but when ye bevvy, ye hae nae boondry ye wulnae cross.” Ye ken th’ consequences of yer loose tongue coods hae dire consequences.” I knew this was a life and death talk. Seamus was telling me I could cause a catastrophic cascade of events that could get us all drawn and quartered as traitors. Instead of choosing to be angry and railing at him for being cruel, I chose to believe that this was a necessary lecture from one who clearly cares enough about me to have the difficult discussion.

Consequences

By speaking of me unkindly to someone else in terms that no one should speak of about another, no matter how vexing they have been, Seamus had wounded me to the bone, had broken my trust, and sundered my soul. As I mumbled a thanks for caring enough to feel comfortable talking to me about this, I moved to the pallet on the floor, leaving the bed for Seamus this night. I needed time for reflecting on his words, the evening, and everything that triggered his censure. I realized that, though there was much truth in what he reprimanded me for, he was taking his irritation out on me. Something he left unsaid.

Damn but the woman is vexing. Seamus hated to see the tears in her eyes, the trembling lips, and hunched shoulders. Seamus was torn at his need to protect Katherine and his own problematic use of alcohol. That was not a conversation he was willing to have just yet though. Tonight, Katherine almost let slip something that could get them all killed. Now, seeing her lying there on the pallet he usually slept on, he thought about the charade they played.

When they had traveled to the 17th century, it had been necessary for safety as well as convenient as a background story that they represent themselves as a married couple. It was very difficult for them, especially when it came time to retire for the day. Seamus had always slept on a pallet on the floor. However, as time passed, and they learned more about each other through the inevitable, deeper conversations. They had to become emotionally supportive of each other to stave off insanity and with this emotional intimacy, the awkwardness of the relationship turned into a true partnership. A little half smile crept up and a very Scottish “hmph” quietly escaped him.

Ben Nevis by Storm 1691 AD

Katherine had to leave. Seamus was in the tavern talking with their contact from Perth and looked to be at it all day… over many whiskeys. The information they had gathered over the last few weeks had to get to Laird Maclean. She didn’t say goodbye, she was still to hurt from Seamus’ reprimand at the Campbell’s estate. She had a devil of a time convincing the stable lad not to tell Seamus his lady wife was going off without escort. She had bribe the lad with sweet meats from the kitchen before he allowed her to saddle her own horse. That way the lad could truthfully say he didn’t help her.

It was raining lightly when she left. Katherine reminisced on the weather in California with the never-ending drought. Rain was life and she reveled in it. Katherine, enjoying the rain, was startled when her horse bolted. It took her several minutes to bring the beast back under control. Once she had the horse to a steady pace, she realized that behind her, was a band of brigands hell bent for leather to catch her. She could just catch some of their words and what she heard terrified her. The Campbell had sent his minions.

She slowed the horse a bit allowing her pursuers to gain on her and giving the horse a much needed slow down. Once they were close enough that she could see their faces, she realized she was in trouble. All of them had cloths covering their faces. No identifying crests or identifying marks on the clothes or horses either. All had weapons at the ready. Urging the horse to a breakneck speed, she headed toward Ben Nevis where she would either escape, or die trying.

Unspeakable Dread

Seamus was outside of Fort William meeting with a contact from Perth regarding the latest dealings of the Campbell. The tavern was of moderate means catering to the gentry and business classes. Here, the innkeeper didn’t ask questions, kept his mouth shut and employed loyal staff who were equally discreet. Suddenly, one of the lads came and interrupted Seamus. Something important had either happened or was about to happen, so he acknowledged the lad and bade him speak.

Seamus, yer guidwife is missin' an' was lest seen runnin' frae th' Campbell’s sodiers oan th' cliffs ay Ben Nevis. Uir scoots lost 'er in th' mists an' th' rain has washed oot 'er tracks.” Seamus felt the blood drain from his face as the lad spoke in hushed tones. Seamus nearly roared at the lad. “Holy heel mon, yer killin' me. Oot wi' it.” The young lad tried not to sound in a panic, “We fear she's fa'en tae 'er death.” He was as pale as a ghost with a jaw clenched tight, desperately trying tae keep his tears from falling. Seamus’ dinner companion immediately poured the lad a generous whisky. “Seamus, gang swatch fur yer guidwife. Whit we hae tae discuss can bide. Th' bark isnae as important as findin' 'er.”

Seamus rode the horse hard, but not so hard that either he or the horse would become a casualty. His came to the scout’s location where Seamus questioned him in earnest. “Cameron, whaur did ye lest lose secht ay 'er an' whaur ur th' Campbell’s men noo? “We tay it thee ay them at th' pass. William escaped up th' ben an' Eirick is tryin' tae catch heem noo. Seamus, we didnae see her fall, but neither can we say she didnae.” Seamus nodded and said, “Cam, see tae the horse, He’s worked stoaner gettin' me hear. I’ll gang oan alone fit tae make sure he does nae gie hurt whilst I look fer Katherine.”

Love Spoken

He found her halfway down the Ben in the thick brecken. She had either fallen or purposefully made a dangerous choice to escape by hiding on the cliff. He almost missed the scuffed heather where she went down. He was bruised, battered, soaking wet, for all the pissing rain, and he feared the worst. As he approached, her limbs were tangled in the heather. Tears streaming down his face, she made a small kitten like noise... He fell on his knees beside her and sobbed openly. He took her tenderly in his arms, rocking her gently.

Katherine felt sounds that rumbled through her being, gently waking her. She came awake in Seamus' arms, his gentle touch easing her pain. Her eyes fluttered open and she could see him crying. She reached up and gently touched his scraggly face. His eyes were closed. She whispered, “why do you weep my love?” His eyes slowly opened and met hers. He kissed her on the top of her head, moaned deep down in his chest, then his lips closed over hers is a searing kiss. It caught both unaware of just how much they had come to mean to each other.

When they came to their senses, realizing they were exposed on a dangerous mountainside, tangled in the heather, thyme, and brambles, Katherine mumbled, “A braw pair we make sittin' haur in th' pissin' rain actin' th' yoong fools kissin' an' gropin' each other!” Seamus replied, “Och Katherine, Ah thooght ye waur deid an' noo 'at Ah ken ye arenae, Ah cannae keep mah hans aff ye. But yeur reit, lit us gie aff thes ben an' gie ye back tae th' inn whaur Ah can properly caur fur aw yer hurts an' needs.” Seamus gently helped Katherine to stand. With a halfcocked head tilt, and an inquiring look, without words asking Katherine if she was able to travel. She nodded and down the mountain they climbed.

Epiphany 01 February 1692 AD

Arriving at the MacDonald holdings in Glencoe, Seamus finally knew his mind. Katherine and he had met with the outlying MacDonalds and related members of the clan to warn them of the impending Campbell betrayal. All that was left was to meet with the Maclean. Once this task was completed, he would speak with Katherine.

Katherine was bone weary. Having spent the last 7 days pushing the horses and themselves to the point of exhaustion, they had finally spoken with everyone necessary except the Maclean. Katherine had made up her mind to finally speak to Seamus after the meeting with the Laird.

The Maclain held up his goblet and stood to quiet the assemblage. He welcomed Seamus and Katherine back and stated they must relax after the long journey. However, he had noticed something amiss and decided to press the matter here, where they couldn’t escape. “Seamus and Katherine, Oot wi’ yer musings. I’ll hae ye blather all tae gi’ it oot!”

As Seamus and Katherine realized they had been woolgathering, the hall erupted in laughter as the 2 turned bright red in embarrassment. Seamus stood, looked at Katherine, took her hands and said, “I’ll take the blame for this deception love.” To the now curious audience he rambled, “Aw ay ye hae bin tauld we ur merrit. In truth, we arenae an' it is mah intention, thes day, tae ask Katherine tae make thes legal in th' een ay god an' company. Will ye be mah guidwife?” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she smiled up at him, “Ay coorse i'll be yer guidwife ye big lummox.” The hall erupted in good cheers and the Maclean ordered more food and whisky be brought to flow freely until no one is left standing.