Page 25 of Wild Highland Rose
"It was dark. All I could see were shadows. Everywhere shadows. The doorway was a dark patch, yawning open, leading to my parents and the battle. I wasna strong. I wished with all my heart that the door would stay closed and that the evil on the other side would go away without harming me.
"I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldna. I was a Macpherson. It wasna a time for crying. Father had told me once that I was the bravest girl in all of Scotland. I was determined to make him proud.
"I had mysgian dubh. It had been a birthday gift from mother, for eating no' protection, but I knew it was the best defense I had. If the Camerons forced their way into the chamber, I would be ready. I could defend myself." She straightened as though ready to fight an imaginary foe.
"The ringing of steel grew louder. It was getting closer. I shifted into the corner, trying to fight my fear. It gnawed at my gut and made my hands sweat.
"Someone screamed. My mother. They were in the outer chamber. I tried frantically to find a place to hide, but there was nowhere. I clutched thesgian dubhand inched forward, trying to be brave, but shaking like a leaf in the wind. I dinna think I've ever been so afraid.
"I watched in horror as the door swung slowly inward, the flicker of torchlight from the adjoining chamber momentarily blinding me. I closed my eyes and then after counting to ten, I opened them. There was a figure in the doorway, standing motionless, his face hidden by the shadows.
"I opened my mouth to scream, but at the last moment recognized the familiar bulk of my father. I released my breath. I dinna even know I'd been holding it. I ran toward him in relief only to stop again, watching helplessly as he fell to the floor. The light washed over his face and body. All I could see was blood. Everywhere blood. I threw myself down beside him, calling his name, running my hands across his face. His eyes were empty. He couldna see me. He was gone.
"I remember looking up and through the door at the crumpled heap of white linen that was Mother. Her life blood was ebbing away. I couldna move. I just sat there, holding my father's hand.
"There was a movement in the outer chamber. I wasna alone. A man, barely more than a boy, stood in the doorway, his great claymore dripping with blood. His eyes were narrowed and filled with a feral blood lust that sent shivers of panic knifing through me. I moved my hand slowly to the floor, feeling for my wee knife. I found it near my father's head. Using his body as a shield, I grasped the knife and slipped it into the folds of my nightshift.
"The boy moved forward, his lips drawn back over his teeth. He looked like a cat, a young and vicious mountain cat. He moved closer, close enough for me to see that blood spattered his face and hair. His eyes were filled with hatred. I dinna think I'd ever seen hatred like that before.
"He called to me.'What have we here? A Macpherson brat?'And then he took another step toward me. He looked like a devil, an evil grin lighting his face. I held on to my knife. If only he would step closer. I knew in my heart I dinna stand a chance against this monster, but for my parents' sake I vowed to make him pay at least in some small measure for what had been done this night.
"He advanced again. Only this time, he dropped his claymore and began to hitch up his shirt. I felt bile rising in my throat. He looked so strange, almost hungry, like he was going to devour me. Another man entered the chamber, speaking to the boy.'What are ye wasting yerself on that skinny child fer?'he said.'There are lasses to be had in the buttery with far more to offer than this wee scrawny thing.'
"I stared at the huge man in the doorway and backed up a step. This was the man who had killed my family. Torcall Cameron. I was certain of it. I canna say exactly what happened next. I remember feeling rage burning in my gut and spreading through my body. I flung myself at him, mysgian dubhheld high.
"But the boy grabbed my hands and, before I knew it, I was swinging in the air. He laughed at me.'Yer right, Father, I've no use for one as skinny as this.'I struggled to get down, but his grip was like a vise. His next words, I'll never forget. He said that for such a wee lass I had fire in me. Then he said,''Tis almost a shame we'll have to kill her. I'd have liked the opportunity to sample her in a few years.'
"Torcall laughed with his son.'Have ye nothing on yer mind but wenching, lad? Leave the brat. She'll likely die anyway. There's no one left here to care for her. Come, we've work to do. Vengeance is served.'The boy wrenched thesgian dubhfrom my hand and with a shove sent me sprawling into a corner. My head hit the wall, and I slid to the floor, trying with everything I had to hold onto consciousness. The last thing I remember seeing is a Cameron bending over my mother, searching her body."
Cameron leaned close, horrified at her story. "Was it me?" he whispered, caught up in the story, his mind reeling with the enormity of it all. "The boy?"
"Nay." She said, her gaze meeting his. ""Twas Allen. You were away fostering that summer."
Suddenly it all made sense. Why Ewen had been chosen as the sacrificial lamb. He hadn't been a part of the atrocities of that day. He alone could come to Marjory with a clear conscience. Although there would still have been blood on his hands.
Cameron tried to tell himself that Allen's story was probably equally horrifying. These were obviously barbarous times. But in the face of Marjory's agony, it was almost impossible to remain neutral. His stomach hurt, feeling physical pain for the young girl who had lost her childhood in an instant.
Marjory sat frozen in silence for a moment then burst into gut-wrenching sobs. Cameron smoothed back a wayward strand of her hair. "It's all right now. It's all right." He pulled her onto his lap, rocking her gently in his arms.
She was a mercurial thing, one minute all spit and fire, the next a tormented child. They sat like that for what seemed an eternity. She sobbed into his shirt while he patted her ineffectually on the head and whispered nonsensical words of comfort. Finally, the sobbing slowed to a few hiccups.
"Are you feeling better?"
A nod against his chest signaled the affirmative. She pushed back, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. "I dinna know what came over me. I've never told anyone that. No' even Fingal."
Not meeting his eyes, she moved out of his lap and settled on the ground beside him. Cameron wasn't sure she realized it, but her hand was still linked with his.
"I shouldn't have told you," she whispered, her hands twisting in her lap. "You're a Cameron. "
"Right now just let me be a friend." He said the words and realized he meant them. He wanted her to trust him. It probably wasn't fair, considering he wasn't going to stay, but the feeling was there nevertheless.
"You really dinna remember any of it?" She searched his face, looking for answers he couldn't give.
He shook his head, hoping his assurance would be enough.
She sat for a moment, absorbing the sincerity of his words. "I see."
"You don't believe me, do you?" He couldn't say he blamed her. He didn't really believe it himself. Much easier to accept the fact that he was a murdering bastard, than to accept that he was from another place and time. Still, at least with the latter, he kept his honor.
