Chapter Six
Meanwhile, further up the hillside, inside the house, Elspeth followed Liana through the festooned hall and into the attached kitchen, where Glenna stood, angrily stacking wreaths of freshly cooled bread—three per pile, each loaf separated by cloth, for a total of nine—eight after Liana attempted to lift one of the piles and the topmost wreath tumbled to the ground.
“Oh, no!” she said, with dismay.
“There’s plenty extra,” said Glenna, and she proceeded to grab the broom from behind the kitchen door to clean up the mess. “Ach, now! What’s this?”
She bent to lift up a rusty old horseshoe, turning it in her hand with a look of dumb surprise. Only then, her eyes narrowed, and it occurred to Elspeth: Separately, none of these occurrences had any true implication, but altogether, they certainly did—the iron knife placed beneath the threshold, horseshoes hidden behind the doors, the holly and ivy strewn about the hall, and the overabundance of salt in the Yule bread. Someone had been warding the house and family against witchery, and she had a good mind who that someone must be: a certain little boy who should remain nameless, but who had been casting rude glances at her since she and Malcom arrived.
As though verifying her suspicions, Glenna said, “Alex, y’ wee demon,” and she shook her head. “I’ll be having a wee jaw with that lad, an’ he’ll be thankful if his Da dinna take a strap to his arse.” The old woman met Elspeth’s gaze, and Elspeth realized that she, too, had come to the same conclusion. There was an apology in her gaze, but Liana seemed none the wiser.
So, it seemed, whatever sentiments Alex had, none of the others shared it, and therefore, Elspeth resolved to banish her worries, giving Glenna a grateful smile and nod.
Moving forward to lift up one of the remaining two piles, she laughed. “I wonder if I should carry yours, Liana, now that you’ve disposed of one.”
“You could hardly be less graceful,” the girl said jovially. “But I will trade you. Already, you’re carrying more than I!” She cast a glance down at Elspeth’s rounded belly and smiled brilliantly.
“Nay, I can manage,” said Elspeth. And she did. But, upon arriving back at the bonfire, she was surprised to find Alex side by side with Malcom, his aura changed. In fact, it appeared now to be much the same as Malcom’s, and he was grinning broadly as he watched Page empty the coffer they’d brought her. “What are they looking at?” asked Liana, curiously.
Elspeth smiled. “I didn’t realize he meant to bring it out yet,” she said. “You should go see for yourself. There are gifts for you, as well.”
“For me?” Liana said, aghast, and nearly tripped, once again nearly dropping her stack of bread. She yelped, and Elspeth gave her a bit of help, with no one the wiser, righting the bread stack before it could topple. Only Glenna seemed to notice her intervention, but the old woman smiled knowingly and gave Elspeth a conspiratorial wink—so unexpected that Elspeth nearly lost her stack as well.
“Here now,” Glenna said. “Let me take them from you, and you run along, too. I’ll manage on my own.”
“Art certain?”
“Quite,” the old woman said, grinning. “The Goddess abides.” And she took the stack of Yule bread so easily, shifting Elspeth’s loaves onto her own so agilely that she could have been a court juggler, and she very well should have been, because she was a sight, carrying Yule wreaths, eight high. “Ach, lass, who d’ ye think’s been carrying the lot till now. “Go be with your family, dear.”
Elspeth blinked, looking closer at the woman’s aura. It was threaded with pink, and pink, of course, was the color shared by dewines. In days of yore, that’s how they’d recognized one another. Only how had she not realized sooner? She’d been so busy feeling like an outsider, and worrying that Malcom’s family might not accept her. It had never occurred to her that she might encounter one of her own so far north.
Glenna was a dewine, as her people were known. Translated more precisely, they were enchantresses, bards, prophets and seers. Dewines held the earth in great esteem and believed all beings were connected—living and otherwise. Magik was but another word for transformation, conjuration and creation, and, ultimately, life was filled with such things—a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, a child born of a woman, a seedling emerging after a long winter, life born from a drop of water. “Thank you,” Elspeth said.
A bit later, after all the gifts were dispersed, and the bread loaves, as well, the clan split into smaller groups. It used to be they would all gather about the one big bonfire, but as the clan grew—and the bonfire as well—it was impossible to maintain the intimacy necessary to share.
Tonight, the immediate family numbered ten in total. They gathered near the bonfire, their faces tinged amber by the firelight.
Before beginning, the MacKinnon took a moment to remember those who were no longer present: Broc Ceannfhionn, who’d left them for Dunloppe, and was now master of his own demesne; may he always be blessed. Cameron, who’d wed his sweetheart Cailin after ten-long years, and far soberer and more responsible, was now committed to his service to the Scot’s king; may he rise to his greatest potential. As for his sister Constance—sweet Constance, who never liked to be dressed; may she learn to live with her blindness and God-be-willing, someday find herself cured. Finally, to the alliance of seven—the dún Scoti, the MacLeans, Montgomeries, Brodies, McNaughts, MacEanraig and MacKinnon clans—may the coming strife spare their loved-one’s doorsteps of grief, and may David mac Maíl Chaluim choose wisely in his support of his Empress niece. At long last, Iain MacKinnon, laird of his clan, held up the Yule wreath, and said the Yuletide blessing:
Hail to you, O sun of the seasons,
As you travel the skies aloft;
Your steps are strong on heaven’s wings,
You are the glorious mother of stars.
You lie down in the injurious ocean
Without impairment and without fear;
You rise up on the peaceful wave-crest
Like a youthful queen in bloom.
“Blessings,” said everyone in turn. And Iain continued, with his own thanks, “Tonight, I am thankful for…” his eyes scanned the circle, alighting first on his wife, and then flitting from Liana, to Alex, then to Elspeth and finally to Malcom. “The return of my son.” He ripped the first bite from the Yule loaf, chewing as best he could around a broad grin.
Next came Page. She took the bread from her husband and held the wreath aloft, saying, “I am thankful for…” Her gaze slid to Cora. “My reunion with a dear old friend. Thank you so much for aught you ever did for me, Cora. Because of you, my childhood bears me sweet memories.” She, too, took a bite of the bread, smiling, before she passed it along.
Next came Liana. She said exuberantly, and with great flourish, “I—” Her gaze moved to Elspeth. “I am eternally grateful for my sweet new sister. How very dreary this family has been till your arrival.”
Alex shouted, “Pòg mo thòin!” Kiss my arse!
Everyone laughed.
Next came Glenna. Her gaze narrowed on Alex as she said, “I am most thankful to know where my salt went. I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!” I’ll give you a slap on the ear.
Alex fidgeted, and his gaze moved to Elspeth. It was her turn now, and she took the bread from Glenna, holding it aloft as the others had, feeling all eyes on her, and wishing she had more eloquent words to speak. “I…” She looked at her husband, and his gaze immediately settled her nerves. She inhaled, then said in a rush, “I am most grateful for my champion, who saved me…” Her voice faltered, because, she was still too emotional over the events of the past year. Furthermore, it was difficult to be so pleased over her own circumstances when she knew her sisters were still in danger. “Well, I am thankful for everyone.” She shrugged, finishing with a hand to her belly, “Especially our babe. I love you, Malcom,” she said, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “And, if my husband will allow it, I should be pleased to bear him into the world in a place so fine, with a family such as you.”
All eyes were shining by the time she was through, including the MacKinnon’s. She took a bite of the bread, dreading the salty taste of it, but surprised and relieved to find it sweet. She gave Glenna a surprised glance, and the old woman winked as she passed the Yule bread along. So then, it was a spell she had cast in the kitchen. Ut dulce sit, she’d said. Make it sweet.
Next came Cora, and the maid said, “I’m thankful to my Lord Aldergh for allowing me to join him and my lady on this journey. “Here’s hoping my Alwin willna be weeping ’cause I’m gone.” She took a great-big tear out of the bread, and passed it along.
Next came Malcom. And his gaze lit upon his wife, lowering to her belly, and then very affectionately moving to his mother, and to his father. “I am thankful for the bounty that is my life,” he said, looking straight at his father. “I will be pleased to stay until after Candlemas, and I, too, will cherish the memory of my old mon with a babe in his arms.” He took a hearty bite, then grinned, and handed the loaf down to his little brother.
“Here, here!” everyone shouted. “Here, here!”
Finally, at long last, it was Alex’s turn, and he looked, for a moment as though he would toss the wreath into the bonfire and flee. His gaze sought out his mother’s; she gave him a nod. His gaze sought his father’s; the MacKinnon arched a dark brow in warning. Then, his gaze sought Elspeth’s, and he began, “I-I am… grateful… to…” His gaze sought Glenna’s, and the old woman shook her head. “Well…” He fidgeted. “Mayhap I’m verra grateful because… now…” He grinned. “There’ll be a younger MacKinnon than me, and here’s hoping he ain’t a lass!”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m not done,” complained Alex. And he said, “But mostly, I am grateful for my new sword…” He peered up at Malcom, smiling. “And my brother.” Then, he, too, ripped into the Yule bread, and with the bread firmly in his hands, he ran into the circle and did a happy dance. Everyone clapped joyfully, and the MacKinnon shouted:
Here’s tae the heath, the hill and the heather,
The bonnet, the plaid, the kilt and the feather!
The End
Happy Yule, everyone! My love to you, and long may your lum reek (may you never be without fuel for your fire). Turn the page for a Yuletide recipe for sun bread.