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FOR THIS EXACT OCCASION, Greer brought two of her English gowns so she would more easily fit in and when they came to the first farm, she sighed. She was thrilled not to have to milk the stinky cows and pitied the woman who was. At the first farm, there were no unmarried women. Nor were there any at the second and third farm, but the forth farm was much larger and required several women to care for the needs of the lord and lady of the manor.
Her clothing was the common clothing of a housemaid, she wore her hair in braids and at first, no one even noticed Greer. The milking shed was ten stalls long with one back wall and a slanted, thatched roof precariously held up by intermittent posts that seemed too thin to hold the weight. Patched holes in the roof made it obvious the roof was not there to keep the women dry, but to keep the rain out of the milk buckets.
Greer held her breath to avoid the smell and waited until the cows were in their stalls. Then she watched the women bring their short stools and buckets, make themselves as comfortable as possible and begin their work.
Cautiously, she approached the first woman while at the same time staying ready to move quickly, should the cow kick the bucket. “Are you unmarried?”
The woman slowly turned to stare at Greer.
“What I mean is, would you care for a husband? I mean. I come from the clan MacGreagor and our lads are in want of wives. Are you willing?” Greer got no reaction and tried to think what else she could say. Perhaps this one did not speak English. Suddenly, she realized she was not speaking English. Greer smiled and repeated her little speech in the right language...with a few improvements. This time the woman’s eyes lit up. She handed the bucket to Greer and scurried down the row of women until she found what she was looking for.
Then she briefly disappeared and when she reappeared, she had the hand of another woman. Together they raced back to Greer. She took the bucket back, set it down, grabbed Greer’s hand and pulled her around behind the shed. “Say it again for my cousin to hear.”
Greer did. Then she said it again for another woman and yet another until she began to worry. “Will your lord get upset when he finds you talking to me?”
“Aye, but what can he do?” asked the first. “So long as we do not have to milk the cows, I will go with you.”
“So will I,” said another. The other two emphatically nodded.
Four wives at a time, Greer thought. This should not take long at all. “But will your lord release you?”
“I have no intention of asking him,” said the first woman. “We can slip away in the night. Where will we find you?”
Greer glanced back at the clump of trees where she knew the men were hiding. “Can you meet me outside the gate?”
“Aye.”
“One more thing, they are very large lads. Do not be frightened, they will not hurt you.”
On the other side, an older woman had her ear against the thin wooden wall listening to every word. She waited until the milkmaids returned to their work and the milking was done, before she went to the manor to alert the lord. Her prize, she expected, would be a lighter workload. Perhaps he would even relieve her from her duties as a dairy maid. He promised he would the last time, but then claimed they were too shorthanded. This time he would do it. He had to.
Three miles from the first farm, the MacGreagor men were excited when Neil came back and told them four women had agreed to become brides. The men could hardly wait. They took turns bathing, washed their hair, and even cleaned their fingernails with the tips of their daggers. They trimmed their beards, cut their hair and changed into cleaner clothing. Then they made sure they had plenty of fresh meat roasting over the embers of a fire, washed bowls and had ample wine all set out and ready.
When evening finally came, Neil, Greer and three other men took enough horses to the clump of trees near the farm and waited for darkness.
*
THERE WAS LITTLE TO do but wait and since Kadick was the only woman among the remaining men, Donnahail took it upon himself to sit down on the grass not far from her in case she needed something. He did not feel comfortable letting her just sit there with no one to talk to, and he wasn’t at all sure the other men would take the trouble to become her friend. So far, they had not.
Normally, she felt ill at ease when one of the men sat on her right side nearest her mark, but for some reason it was different with Donnahail. She couldn’t think why. All the men were trying very hard to be pleasant and helpful, but with him, she even managed to forget her mark occasionally. Maybe it was because she liked talking to him so much. “Greer told me the lasses will not be accustomed to wine. The wealthy drink wine while the poor drink a kind of bitter ale. Why do you suppose that is?”
Donnahail shrugged. “Who can understand why the English do anything? Lately I have been wondering if taking an English bride is such a good idea.”
“There are not so many Highlander lasses to choose from unless you wait for some of the younger ones to grow up.”
“I know, but think of all the complications. The language of love only lasts so long, you know. The bride, and in your case the groom, will be forced to learn a new language. ‘Tis a lot to ask and we will need vast amounts of patience while they are learning.”
Kadick wrinkled her brow. “The language of love?”
“You know, the hugging and the kissing.” He noticed her blush, but wisely did not mention it. Kadick not only kept herself hidden away, it seemed, she was very young in the ways of men and women. He decided to change the subject. “What sort of lad do you hope to find?”
She forgot all her shyness and giggled, “I do so hope he is the breathing sort.”
He rolled his eyes. “That might help. What else?”
“You mean if ‘tis possible to find a lad who can see beyond my mark? Neil was the first in a long time who actually looked into my eyes. Then next was you and now a few others have done it. But it has taken days for some lads and we do not have days to spend in England.”
“Are you giving up already?”
“Not giving up exactly. There really was little hope when I started on this venture, but I could not bear the loneliness any longer. Some days Millin was the only person who acknowledged my existence.”
“Perhaps that was your own fault.” Donnahail did not mean to say it so bluntly, and watched to see what she would do. He would not blame her if she got upset.
Kadick remained calm and simply shrugged. “You appear to be a good enough man, and since you are a MacGreagor and not a MacClurg, I will forgive your lack of wit.” It was an excellent returned insult, she thought, and waited to see his reaction. If he got upset, she would know he was easy to anger.
Yet he did not get upset, he smiled. “I deserved that. About what am I witless?”
“Before the MacGreagors came, I was out and about constantly. I might have continued to be that way, but...well, you saw it yourself...people fear me at first.”
“I doubt the MacGreagors would have shunned you, Neil would not have allowed it.”
“Aye, but how was I to know that? And there were lost MacGreagors finding their way to us nearly every day. If I were outside, I would have felt the need to run and hide with each new occasion.”
“So it became easier just to stay hidden.”
“Aye.”
Donnahail asked, “Am I cured of my lack of wit yet?”
“Not yet, I will let you know when.” She said it with a straight face and then slowly returned his smile. “What sort of wife are you looking for?”
“That is not an easy question to answer.” He shifted his position, pulled a long blade of grass out of the ground, broke off the end, and put the clean end in his mouth to chew on. “She must have a good sense of humor. I would not enjoy a lass who is too serious or cries incessantly.”
“I feel the same about a husband, he simply must not cry all the time.”
Donnahail grinned and then gave her his best worried look. “Of course a lass must cry from time to time, ‘tis the way of lasses.”
“True.” She shifted her body a little so she could get more comfortable, leaned down, pulled out a long blade of grass, broke off the end and put the clean part in her mouth. “Do all lads understand that?”
“I do not know. Hopefully they learn that from their mothers.”
“Why do you think that happens?”
“The crying you mean? I think it happens so a lad will hold her.”
“Oh.” Kadick took a moment to think that one over. “You did not know William. He was Millin’s husband before he died in the plague. They raised me and I was just remembering how he used to hold her when she cried. I see now you are right about that.”
“Were they good to you?”
“They were very good to me. I hope very much to find a lad who will honor me the way William honored Millin.”
It was Donnahail’s turn to look perplexed. “Honor how?”
“Let me see ... how does one explain honor?”
“We honor Neil by bowing to him when others are around. Did William bow to her?” When Kadick laughed, it sounded like music and he could not help but smile.
“Hardly. Millin is not always sensible and neither am I, or so William sometimes pointed out. I do not recall but one time he raised his voice to her. Normally, he agreed until she got to her more sensible mind, and then he would gently point out the error in her way of thinking.”
“Was he always a sensible lad?”
“Nay and we had many a good laugh over that, but just as he did, Millin waited until he was shrewder before she reasoned with him.”
“And did you learn that talent?” he asked.
“I hope so. I let you get away with scolding me.”
He quickly bowed his head. “I did not mean to scold you. Do you think you could teach me how to honor a lass?”
“I do not know. How hard is it for you to learn?”
He lifted his chin in mock defiance. “Impossible, or so my father often said.”
