Coronach, page 72
On that last night there was a moonrise, late enough to be visible in the brief darkness of high summer; neither he nor I had been sleeping, and we sat on the green-painted bench in the garden together and watched it. He was smoking and withdrawn, although lately I had taken refuge in his silence: it did not intrude upon me or press me for intimacy.
It was darker, and the night was damp; the light of the rising moon illuminated our faces. He had washed my hair for me earlier, with a dispassionate kindness, and it brushed against his shoulder. Unexpectedly he touched it, and when I did not speak he did not remove his hand.
“Those lilies I gave you, will they bloom this summer?”
“No. Perhaps next year.”
“That’s a pity. I liked the name: it reminded me of you.” He smoked: the night was still, the light cold and colourless. “You were always my madonna. And when you took me in that silken mouth, I was a god.”
I think I whispered sacrilege, and he cupped my face between his hands.
“No. This is us, and what you are to me.”
He sought his communion in me, and aroused by the exquisite sensuality of his gifts I offered invitation. But my spirit could not meet him, and my body was a damaged place, inhabited by ghosts and memories and the fear of injury and the dread of pregnancy, and my womb resisted him even as he entered me. He sensed it, and came convulsively and joylessly, as though intercourse were some savage struggle for his very life. It ended; everything ended. I closed my eyes against the unbearable nakedness of his pain.
XVIII
On Sunday the twenty-second of June, 1772, copies of this document, neatly tied with red ribbon and signed and dated by the sheriff clerk depute of Inverness, were served upon those named.
SUMMONS OF REMOVAL
James Gordon Gunn Stirling of Glen Sian
vs
Diarmaid Cameron and Coinneach Cameron alias Kenneth Cameron, Torcall Gunn, Raonull Gunn of Carinish, Ruiseart alias Richard Gunn, William Gunn, Gilchrist MacGregor alias Stirling, Caillean MacGregor alias Stirling, Daniel MacGregor alias Stirling of Monnymore, Grizel Chisholm MacGregor alias Stirling, the name of MacGregor being outlawed.
Whereas it is humbly meant and shewn that James Gordon Gunn Stirling, Esq. of Glen Sian, Heritable Proprietor of the Land and other parts after mentioned, that by the Act of Sederunt of the Lords of Council and Session, dated the fourteenth of December, one thousand seven hundred and fifty-six, entitled, ‘An Act Anent Removings’, it is provided That Where a Tenant hath not obliged himself to remove without warning, in such case it shall be lawful to the Heritor or Setter of the Tack, either to use the Order prescribed by the Act of Parliament made in the year fifteen hundred and fifty-five entitled ‘An Act Anent the Warning of Tenants’, and thereupon pursue a warning of ejection, or to bring his Action of removing against the Tenant before the Judge Ordinary; and such action being called before the Judge Ordinary at least forty days before the term of Lammas, shall be held as equal to a Warning executed in the terms of the aforesaid Act; and the Judge shall therefore proceed to determine in the Removings in terms of the Act, in the same manner as if a Warning had been executed in terms of the aforesaid Act of Parliament.
That Diarmaid Cameron and Coinneach alias Kenneth Cameron, residing at Bearradh Farm, are Tenants, Subtenants or Possessors under the Pursuer of a Dwelling House and other premises and pertinents thereto attached at Bearradh, lying within in the parish of Glen Sian and Sheriffdom of Inverness, on a title of Possession which will expire as to the House, Gardens and Grass on the said Possession at and against the term of Lammas next, and as to the arable Land under Crop, at the Separating of the Crop from the ground, in the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-two.
That Torcall Gunn and Raonull Gunn, residing at Carinish, are joint Tenants, Subtenants or Possessors under the Pursuer of a Dwelling House and other pertinents and premises thereto attached at Carinish, lying within the parish of Glen Sian and Sheriffdom of Inverness, on a Title of Possession which will expire at and against the term of Lammas next, in the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-two.
That Ruiseart alias Richard Gunn, William Gunn, Gilchrist MacGregor alias Stirling, Caillean MacGregor alias Stirling, Daniel MacGregor alias Stirling and Grizel Chisholm MacGregor alias Stirling, residing at Monnymore, are joint Tenants, Subtenants or Possessors under the Pursuer of Dwelling Houses and other pertinents and premises thereto attached at Monnymore, lying within the Parish of Glen Sian and Sheriffdom of Inverness, on Titles of Possession which will expire at and against the term of Lammas next, in the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-two.
That the Pursuer is desirous that the said Diarmaid Cameron, Coinneach alias Kenneth Cameron, Torcall Gunn, Raonull Gunn, Ruiseart alias Richard Gunn, William Gunn, Gilchrist MacGregor alias Stirling, Caillean MacGregor alias Stirling, Daniel MacGregor alias Stirling, and Grizel Chisholm MacGregor alias Stirling, shall remove from the said Possessions respectively occupied by them at the terms above mentioned, and to obtain a Decree of Removal against them accordingly in order that the Pursuer or others in his name may enter thereto and possess the same.
Therefore the said Defenders ought and should be declared and ordered by Decree and sentence of me or my Substitute,
I.To flit and remove themselves, Bairns, Family, Servants, subtenants, cottars and dependents, Cattle, Goods, and gear, forth and from possession of the said Subjects above described with the pertinents respectively occupied by them, as aforesaid, and to leave the same void, redd and patent, at the respective terms of removal above specified, that the Pursuer or others in his name may then enter thereto and peaceably possess, occupy and enjoy the same.
II.And in the event of their opposing this action to make payment to the Pursuer of the sum of Ten pounds Sterling, or such other sum as shall be modified at the Expenses of Process, besides the Expense of Extracting and Recording the Decree to follow thereon.
All in terms of the Act of Sederunt and the laws and daily practice of Scotland, used and observed in the like cases in all points as if alleged. My will is herefore, I command you that on sight hereof, ye pass and lawfully Summon, warn and charge the Said Defenders personally, or at their dwelling places, to appear before me or my Substitute, within the ordinary Court Place at Inverness upon the seventh day next after Court Day, to allege a reasonable cause to the contrary. With Certification According to Justice given under the hand of the Clerk of Court at Inverness, the twelfth day of June, Seventeen hundred and seventy-two years.
The document was entirely in English, and no Gaelic translation was available until a single handwritten copy was provided by George Cameron, cousin of the defender Diarmaid Cameron, and circulated among the affected households. Even then fewer than half of those whose leases had been terminated were able to read the summons of their own removal. An appearance by any of them to dispute the removals before the sheriff clerk at Inverness was out of the question. The legal process was intimidating, and no man whose rent was three years in arrears could afford the sum of ten pounds required as compensation for obstruction.
The writs, nailed to the doors of the dwellings while the inhabitants were sleeping, had been delivered in a manner both provocative and insulting, and there were allegations of cowardice against the man who had served them, and a growing conviction that the confrontation for which many hungered was almost upon them. On the afternoon of Friday, August first, at Bearradh farm, it came.
Although it was Lammas he had not been collecting rents: he did not specify what would occupy him, but he said that he would not return late. At half past seven, driven by apprehension, I rode to Ardsian.
The door of his office was open; in this sultry evening, in the greyness before storm, faint candlelight sliced the dark corridor and spilled at my feet. Their voices died as they became aware of my presence: James, immaculate in silken waistcoat, supporting on a chair a man whose face was obscured by bloodstained compresses; Gerard Mackintosh, recognizing me with a flash of annihilating disgust; and Malcolm, seated behind the table and the table littered with pistols, candles, papers, stained handkerchiefs and neckcloths. His unsheathed sword lay on the floor with much of his clothing: the stench of excrement was nauseating. The left side of his face seemed disfigured with ink, as if ink had been thrown at him. Briefly his eyes burned in the discolouration, then they closed. No one spoke to me.
“My God. What happened?”
His eyes opened again, the left so swollen that the lid would barely lift.
“A little popular resistance, my dear. Morrison, I present my wife.”
The supine man made a ghastly effort to sit upright.
“Madam, your servant.”
They compelled him to lie back, with the bloodied cloths across his face. James was blanched, as if the heat and smell were sickening him. Although his hands never left the injured man, Mackintosh said curtly, “As you are here, madam, the least you can do is persuade your husband to be examined.”
Surprisingly, he consented, and stood impassively while Mackintosh probed and sponged him and passed the candleflame before his pupils: they spoke only once, when Malcolm removed his shirt. His left breast, like his face, was black with bruising, and the nipple bled. Mackintosh prodded it until he pushed his hand away.
“Look to Morrison. He needs you more than I.”
“This was a blow that might have stopped your heart.”
“It would want more than that.”
He dressed again in the obscenely stained shirt, and Mackintosh and James assisted the unknown Morrison to his feet. He stood, supported by them, holding the bloody compress to his face, and I saw that he was or had been a handsome man, balding, in his fifties, with a fine, humorous mouth and cleft chin: his ruined clothing had been expensive, and on his right hand, which he held out to me, he wore a heavy gold signet ring.
“Good night, madam. I doubt we shall meet again.”
I answered as though in some twisted nightmare, aware of nothing but the gallant flicker of courtesy in this inexplicable hell.
“Good night, sir. I am sorry for your injuries.”
“It is the nature of my business, although not usually in so extreme a degree. Good night, Scott. I am grateful for your courage.”
He was visibly weakening, and Mackintosh initiated the withdrawal. James followed without a word. Everything, it appeared, had been said, except to me.
We were alone, and it seemed we had never been so alone. The night was still, with thunder but no rain, and no wind to clear these hellish shadows of the stench of human faeces.
He had seated himself again behind the desk, with the ghastly paraphernalia of the day. He swept the papers aside and took a bottle and a glass from a drawer, and I watched with an unspeakable compassion as he attempted to pour a measure: his hands were trembling, and he cursed and put the bottle down, and sat with his elbows in the litter on the table and rested his face in his hands. I poured it for him: he accepted it without expression, drank, and pushed the glass across the table toward me, and in utter silence we shared it. Then he pulled open another drawer and tossed a leather case onto the papers, fumbled with it and removed a cheroot, which he lit with difficulty. Blood had dried beneath the nails of his right hand.
“Morrison’s,” he said, although whether he meant the cigar or the blood I did not know, and he did not elaborate.
The smoke filled the candlelight. In the heavy rainless night there was no sound, only smothering silence.
“Who is Morrison?”
“He is a sheriff officer, sent from Inverness.”
“Why?”
“To witness the legal eviction of undesirable tenants.” He opened his eyes, and the effect of the bloodshot irises against the bruising was indescribable. “And if you entertain any doubt as to their undesirability, I think circumstances have proved it beyond question. Morrison was blinded— that was Siubhan Cameron’s handiwork. Your friend Cameron was there, too, heaving bricks for all he was worth. By that time there were fifty, sixty people in the house and outside of it. I had piss thrown in my face. I had shit thrown at me. I had a shower of burning peat over the horse. I had bricks in my face and bricks in my gut and stones on the back of my head. They pulled Morrison down and the women beat him with their fists and their feet and the iron spades they use to cook their bannock, and they held the poor bastard’s face under water and tried to drown him. Diar Cameron was sitting on the doorstone with his coat over his head, rocking back and forth, and his bitch of a wife was screaming at him to stand up and fight like a man. I managed to come to where Morrison was and I stood over him with my sword in my hand, and I told them to disperse or by Christ one of them would die, and there would be soldiers in Glen Sian tomorrow. And when that bitch came near to me I threw her down on the ground and told her I would kill her, and she never moved from that time until I got Morrison into the saddle.” The ash fell unnoticed from his hand to the floor. “Give me another drink, will you.”
He drank it without speaking: silence seemed to be what he wanted. I sat opposite him, watching the restless activity of his hands, wondering if I would wake or dwell forever in this new region of hell.
Eventually he said, “I will have your friend Cameron taken up for mobbing and rioting, and that bitch for assault on Morrison, and Coinneach Cameron for what he did to you. And I will have the land from them, and any one else who offers me similar treatment.”
“I wish to God you would stop calling him that.”
He said with an odd little smile, made hideous by the bruising, “Is he not, Margaret? Was he never your friend? You were my friend once.”
Whatever he could read in my eyes, in my thoughts, I kept them focused upon him.
“I will consider your judgment disordered by what happened to you today, and make allowances for that remark.”
“Then it will not concern you if I have him arrested.”
“Do what you like. You always do.”
“No,” he said, “Only sometimes. And of course we must be grateful to him, as they told me he saved your life. Why would he come to my house in my absence if not out of tenderness for you, and some desire to spare you his cousin’s attentions?”
“I daresay there are women in Glen Sian who cherish a certain warmth of feeling for you. You are not obliged to respond to it.”
“Nor did I.”
“Nor do I.”
He leaned back, as though the effort of remaining upright were too much, and stared at the litter on the desk, flicking papers with his thumb. His left eye had swollen further, and was scarcely open.
I said, “What will happen now?”
“Oh, life will never be the same. They will never forget what they did, and I will never forget them. And when they come to stand before me in this room with their hands all around their bonnets, I will remember them, and there will be no peace from me ever again.”
“Malcolm... you cannot mean what you are saying.”
He gazed at me through the smoke and the shadows.
“My dear, I do mean it. Bearradh was my Rubicon. Let them bear the consequences.”
I thought, as will I.
“Malcolm, let me care for you. Come home.”
He ground the cigar into the floorboard and rose, and some instinct made me move toward him even as he swore and caught the chairback. He had not yet regained the stone or so he had lost in the unspeakable months of hunger, but he was more than six feet tall and the sudden deadness of his weight was almost insupportable; then he pushed me away gently and stood alone, leaning against the table. A moment later he said, “the key,” and I fumbled with revolted hands through the stinking garments on the floor for the key in the pocket of his bloodied waistcoat. Eventually he snuffed the candle and came out of the office with me, and I locked the door. I remember little of the ride back. I had never known how much reliance I had placed upon his physical strength and protection, and his condition alarmed me. The night was stifling, alive with lightning; both horses were agitated and difficult, and he would not relinquish the stallion to me.
Nor had the nightmare ended. He bathed in the lochan, in the lightning’s reflection, and walked back naked through the garden and dressed in clean clothing and sat for a time on the sofa in my room, drinking the bitter tea I had brewed for him, although I knew he disliked it: the fierce, erratic restlessness, the fury of reaction, had left him, and I thought it might be possible for him to sleep. He gave me that travesty of a smile.
“If only that were true, my darling, that you wanted me in your bed. What a delightful encounter we would have, me nursing my aches and pains and you all the wounds of your spirit.”
I said, “I wonder that you carry a sword, when you can inflict so much damage merely by speaking.”
In the hot, haunted night an uneasy wind was stirring.
He said, “I am going out. I have unfinished business,” and the heat and stillness seemed to darken and collapse on me.
“Malcolm, for God’s sake. Don’t go.”
He said very gently from the door, “God the protector was never in this house. And I do nothing for his sake, or yours.”
I woke, hours later. He was lying on the bed with his back to me, the last time I saw his splendid nakedness and the cruelty of the injuries inflicted upon him. He slept deeply, for Malcolm: the glass on the floor held a residue of the opiate he had never allowed me to find, and he was very still, except once, when he attempted to turn and some consciousness of his body’s pain disturbed him. He did not move again.
He slept, from the time I saw him, another twelve hours, and while he slept a soft rain fell, and quenched the fires at Bearradh.
