Page 9 of Unforgotten
“Duncan MacKinnon makes a poor clan-chief,” the abbess admitted, her tone turning guarded.
Next to her, Sister Coira was frowning. The nun stared down at her half-finished bowl of stew, a nerve flickering in her cheek. Gavin was intrigued. MacKinnon was clearly not well liked here and, having met the man numerous times, Gavin knew why. Duncan was even more unpopular than his brutal father before him had been.
Taking a sip of beer, Gavin shifted his attention back to the abbess. Her expression was shuttered. He realized then that she’d grown wary of him. He was a clan-chief after all, and for all she knew, MacKinnon might have sent him to spy on the abbey. This was the only abbey upon the isle, and it held more power than some of the chieftains here liked.
“I imagine that ye are a very different leader to MacKinnon,” Mother Shona continued after a pause. Her tone was still wary, yet, unlike some of the nuns here, who could barely look his way, the abbess met his eye squarely. Men did not intimidate or embarrass her.
Gavin’s mouth lifted at the corners. “I do my best,” he murmured. “My father always said it wasn’t an easy thing to rule, but it was only when I took over as clan-chief that I realized what he truly meant. Everyone with a problem or a grievance comes to yer door. The weight of responsibility can sometimes be a heavy one, although I try to do right by my people.”
Ella felt herself growing increasingly more agitated the longer the meal went on.
Gavin MacNichol was in a conversational mood this evening. He didn’t seem to care that he was the one doing most of the speaking, or that his questions were unsettling not only Mother Shona but the other nuns as well. Mealtimes were usually passed in silence, with speaking kept to a minimum, but the abbess had relaxed that rule for this evening. However, MacNichol seemed determined to discuss a number of unpleasant subjects.
Ella didn’t live in denial; she knew the problems he and Mother Shona discussed were real indeed. When Ella had first come to live here, the nearby villages had been prosperous. But in the last few years, as MacKinnon demanded higher and higher taxes from his people, folk had grown poorer and increasingly desperate. Just two days earlier, when she’d brought vegetables to the local village, she’d seen too many hungry faces and desperate eyes. The Sisters of Kilbride did what they could to help the villagers, but MacKinnon demanded a tithe from them as well, and last winter had ended up being a lean one.
The conversation drifted on, while Ella found her gaze returning to Gavin. She cursed herself for constantly looking his way, but she couldn’t help it.
Gavin appeared at ease as he helped himself to another serving of stew and praised its deliciousness once more.
One of the nuns, Old Magda, smiled at his compliment.
Curse ye, Gavin. He’d always related easily to women. That was how it had started between them. They’d become friends first. She’d found him so easy to talk to. He wasn’t like other lads. They all seemed boorish compared to him. Gavin engaged a lass’s mind, wanting to know her opinions, her thoughts, and her feelings. He hadn’t changed.
Eventually, Ella wasn’t able to bear it any longer. It was bad enough that this man had reappeared in her life after so many years, and that she would be forced to travel with him tomorrow.
But to listen to the low timbre of his voice was like a knife twisting in her chest.
Ella pushed away her half-eaten bowl of stew and rose to her feet. “Please, excuse me,” she murmured, gaze lowered. “But if I am to travel tomorrow, I will need to ready myself.”
“Very well, Sister Ella,” Mother Shona replied. “We shall see ye later … at Compline.”
Feeling Gavin MacNichol’s gaze upon her, but deliberately avoiding his eye, Ella turned and hurried from the refectory.
4
Ready to Depart
ELLA PACKED THE wooden satchel with some clean tunics, a block of lye soap, and a small leather-bound book of psalms.
“Is that all ye are taking with ye?”
Ella glanced over her shoulder to see Sister Leanna watching her, eyes narrowed.
Despite her bleak mood this morning, Ella’s mouth curved. She remembered Lady Leanna MacDonald of Sleat arriving upon a palfrey laden with saddlebags, over a year ago now. A mule carrying the rest of her belongings had followed.
That day, the nuns had watched in thinly veiled amusement as a beautiful lass with pale blonde hair, dressed in flowing blue, had dismounted from her palfrey and looked about her with interest. Leanna hadn’t any idea of the life that awaited her. She’d believed she would have her own lodgings and space to hang up her colorful array of kirtles and over-gowns. Ella remembered the shock on Leanna’s face when she’d set eyes on the dormitory, and her narrow sleeping pallet, for the first time.
“A nun doesn’t need to carry much,” Ella reminded the younger woman. She patted the coarse material of her habit, her smile turning rueful. “We never have to agonize over what to wear.”
Sister Leanna sighed. “I miss the finery of my old life sometimes, ye know,” she admitted. “Don’t tell anyone though. I’m sure the other sisters would think me frivolous.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Ella replied. “I felt the same way during my first year here. But after a while I got used to it. And ye will too.”
“Are ye nervous?”
The question made Ella tense. She imagined her displeasure was written all over her face. Sister Leanna hadn’t taken supper with them the night before, as being a novice, she dined at the other end of the refectory—but she would have seen Ella depart early.
“It will feel strange to leave Kilbride,” Ella replied softly. Of course, that wasn’t the real reason for her discomfort, although Sister Leanna wouldn’t know any different. “I’ve had no contact with my parents since I came to live here.”
