Page 5 of Sighs of the Highland Wind
The man and lady were dressed in such fine clothes that she felt even smaller and was frightened of their splendor.
“Would you like to come and live in the castle with Missus Bowie?” he asked kindly, raising his eyebrows in a question.
Kenna nodded. “Aye,” she replied, almost in a whisper. “She is very nice to me.”
“And would you like to learn to read and write?” Lady McDonald asked.
Kenna had no idea what the lady meant, but when she looked up at Flora for approval, her new mother nodded and smiled.
“Aye,” she replied. “That would be grand, M’Laird.”
And so it was that the local minister, Reverend Keir, was engaged to come three times a week for two hours a day to teach Kenna her letters and numbers. This caused a little jealousy amongst the other servants, so Kenna, to the best of her limited ability, began to pass on her knowledge to their children, and soon the very basic learning was spreading like wildfire among them.
Fortunately, Laird McDonald was a progressive man, and he engaged a tutor to teach the servants’ children at the same time that Kenna was having her instruction. When the staff saw what was happening, the jealousy disappeared, and gratitude took its place.
Now, sixteen years later, Kenna still loved Robbie, although he was retired now and spent most of his time grazing peacefully on the castle grounds. However, it was nighttime and he was dozing in the stable, but Kenna knew he would wake if she brushed his soft lips with a slice or a quarter of an apple. She did so and laughed softly as he opened his mouth to accept the fruit while his eyes stayed closed.
Quickly, she passed out the apple pieces to the rest of the horses, petting them and talking to them softly. Kenna kissed each of them on their forelocks as she murmured their names because she knew every one of them. They were her friends, as were all horses.
She turned to leave the building but was suddenly aware of the sound of shuffling and moaning in the last stall, which wasnever used for anything but storing cleaning materials. She crept around the partition between the stalls and gasped in fright.
There was a creature in the space, hidden in the shadows. It seemed to be human from the noises it was making, but Kenna could not be sure. She could not even make out whether it was male or female.
Cautiously, she lifted her lantern and saw that a man was sitting in the corner. He had piled up a heap of straw behind his back and over his legs, then spread his cloak over it. It was a tattered, frayed thing with dozens of holes in it, and from what she could see of the rest of him, he looked like a filthy tramp. Such men could sometimes be dangerous, so she backed away slowly, looking for a weapon, and laid her hand on a rake that was used for spreading straw. After all, who knew what such a creature was capable of?
The man was holding his hands in front of his face to shield himself from the light of the lantern but lowered them as Kenna moved away. Now that she had a better view of him, she could see that he was what she had suspected—a vagabond—and her lip curled in disgust.
His face was filthy, as were his hands, and his brown beard was scruffy and patchy, looking as though it had been pulled out in some places. There was a scratch on one of his cheekbones and a great purple bruise on his forehead. As well as that, she could see that his knuckles were grazed as though he had been engaged in a boxing match. He was probably a drunk, she thought, disgusted.
The man stood up, scattering straw everywhere, and Kenna backed away, holding the rake across her body for protection. He was the biggest man she had ever seen, and she was terrified.
“Don’t scream.”
His voice was deep and hoarse, and Kenna could tell by the manner of his speech that he was not a member of the working class.
“Please, all I wanted was somewhere warm to sleep. I have no intention of stealing or damaging anything, and I promise you that I will be gone in the morning. If you had not come in at this strange time, you would never have known I was here.”
“It is not a strange time for me,” she informed him angrily. “I have a right to be in the stables. You don’t. Who are you anyway? And how did you get past the guards?”
“I am nobody,” he replied sadly. “I am nobody worth knowing.” Then his gaze fell to the basket she was carrying.
Kenna followed his gaze, then looked up at him again. There was one apple left in the basket, and he was staring at it desperately, obviously starving. He looked as if he would pounce on it at any moment, but before he could make a move, Kenna took out the piece of fruit and offered it to him.
He snatched it out of her hand and devoured it in seconds. Kenna had never seen an item of food disappearing so fast.
While the man was eating, she was studying him. He was quite handsome, she thought, and the clothes he was wearing were expensive and of good quality. His boots were made of exquisite leather, although they were scuffed and worn, and his closely-woven woolen tunic was embroidered with fine silk.
All of his garments were ragged and tattered, though, and had obviously been worn for a long time. There was a mystery here. Who was this fine gentleman? Whoever he was, he had fallen onvery hard times. His beard was thick but patchy and scruffy, and it was so long that it was almost touching his chest. She itched to take a sharp pair of scissors to it.
“Who are you?” she asked again, more gently this time. “And how did you get in here? The place is bristling with guards.”
The man sighed. “I told you, you don’t need to know. Thank you very much for the food, but all I want to do is sleep now, then you will never see me again. If you wish to throw me out, though, there is nothing I can do about it.” He shrugged, looking utterly defeated.
The silence that followed was suddenly broken by the loud rumbling of his stomach. The man ducked his head, embarrassed, and put both hands over his face.
All of a sudden Kenna felt deeply sorry for him. Whoever he was, he did not deserve this. She still wanted to know how he had evaded the guards, but that could wait until later. She knew she was acting against her better judgment, but she could not, in all conscience, leave him to starve, not while she was able to do something about it.
“Would you like something else to eat?” she asked.
