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“Beneath the tree there. It will keep her dry.” Hugging a quilt to her chest with one hand, Mary directed the men carrying me with her other.
The chair bumped to the ground, and she hurried to tuck in the quilts around me. I leaned my head back against the trunk of an old rowan, looking up through the leafy canopy to the grey sky above. A raindrop landed on my chin. Heaven wept for Collin.
Mary pulled up the hood of my borrowed cloak. “There now. You’ll not catch a chill, at least.” She pulled a clump of red berries from the tree and placed it in my hand. “To protect you from evil spirits.”
Ian appeared behind her, first on the right, bearing the casket. He’d found a clean shirt for the occasion, and fresh bandages bound his head and hands, but his hair still hung limp and greasy down his back, and the patch covered his eye.
It would take more than berries to protect me.
Mary smiled kindly and patted my hand. “Take courage. Many a woman has been where you are today. And those less strong have survived.”
I stared past her, not wanting to think about surviving or anything else.
The priest emerged from the kirk, and a humming began, made by the line of MacDonald men standing on either side of the casket.
Their tune was melancholy, a wailing lament, and the deep vibrations seemed to come from their chests.
Alistair crouched beside me. “We’ve not the pipes anymore, so this is the best the men can do.”
Their combined efforts did sound pipe-like, and though they were MacDonalds and I knew none of them, I felt grateful Collin was getting a proper tribute.
The last of the mourners arrived— all MacDonalds, save Mary, Alistair, and myself.
The keening ceased, and the blessing and rain began in earnest. I curled my fingers around the edge of the chair and hung on, wanting it to be over, wanting to wake up.
“The sins of man do visit him in death,” Father Rey began. “He is punished, who dared disrupt what was foreordained of God, that these sinful people be swept from the land and the earth cleansed with fire in their place.”
“That’s not true,” I cried, struggling to rise from my chair.
Father Rey paused, sending a withering look my direction.
“It is the vengeance of Heaven come upon him, and you, his wife, will suffer as well.”
“God does not intend these people to be homeless.” I took a faltering step toward him. “Collin was a good man, honorable and brave.”
“Well said.” Ian moved to stand beside Father Rey near the open grave. “Perhaps you could start the service again. I believe the lady would like to hear something more— hopeful.”
“I speak only truth,” the priest said. “I warned them at their arrival. Damnation to any who presume to resist God’s will. You have been warned now as well.”
“Consider yourself the same.” Ian clapped a hand on Father Rey’s shoulder. “One warning is more than many are granted. But, as you’re a man of the cloth, I’ll be lenient.” With a sudden shove, Ian sent him sprawling forward, headlong into the open grave.
My gasp echoed with others around me. Ian turned away from the shouting and cries for help from below.
“Now then,” he said, looking around at those who’d gathered. “Is there anyone else who would like to say something about my brother?”