On the Edge of Darkness

‘I will say nothing. I came to see our mother.’

Adam had not dared meet Gartnait’s eye. He knew what they had done was wrong. It was his fault. He was the man. He should have said no. He should have sent her away. Only they both knew that was impossible. Even now, as he looked at Brid and saw the heightened colour in her cheeks, the silky sheen of her hair, still dishevelled from their love-making in the tent only minutes before Gartnait had appeared, and the line of her long slim tanned thigh beneath her skirt, he could feel his desire running rampant through his veins. Clenching his fists he looked away from her. ‘Can’t you say you couldn’t find her?’ he said to Gartnait.

‘You want me to tell my uncle lies?’ Gartnait looked at him disparagingly.

‘Not lies.’ It was Adam’s turn to blush. ‘Just say you looked everywhere.’

‘He knows I looked everywhere,’ Gartnait replied bitterly. ‘He knows there was nowhere else to look.’

‘He must not know you have come here,’ Brid put in anxiously.

‘Nor you, little sister.’ Gartnait shook his head. ‘Or he will kill us both.’

There was a moment of silence. Adam felt the small hairs stand up suddenly on the back of his neck.

Brid’s huge grey eyes were fixed on her brother’s. It was as if they had forgotten he was there.

Adam swallowed hard. ‘Look, I know he’ll be angry, but I’ll explain …’ His voice tailed away. He was remembering his previous encounters with Broichan.

Brid was very pale. ‘A-dam. You stay here in your tent. I will go and see my uncle. Then I will come back.’ She sounded very confident.

‘But I should come with you.’

‘No, you know that is not possible. Better he does not know I have ever seen you again, my A-dam.’ Her voice softened suddenly as she saw his stricken face and she darted over to drop a kiss on his forehead. ‘I will come back soon. You see –’ she broke off abruptly and he saw her gaze pass to the edge of the clearing.

Adam craned round in sudden terror and saw to his intense relief a familiar face staring at them over the rim of the bank. His friend, Robbie, was scrambling towards them, grinning broadly, when he stopped abruptly, his whole expression frozen into fear. Adam looked round and saw that Gartnait had drawn the knife he wore habitually at his belt.

‘Gartnait!’ he cried, alarmed. ‘He is my friend. It’s all right.’ The whole afternoon was turning into a hideous nightmare. ‘Put it away. He’s my friend.’

Reluctantly Gartnait sheathed the knife, but his face remained sullen and hostile as Robbie, after a moment’s hesitation, came forward.

‘Adam, you old devil, I didn’t know you were going to camp.’ He recognised the tent. He had one just like it and in the past the two boys had often camped side by side. He was staring first at Brid and then at Gartnait. ‘Who are your friends?’

Adam frowned, reluctant to introduce them. Gartnait and Brid were a part of his own private world, his secret world, which had nothing to do with home. He repeated their names without enthusiasm. ‘They were just going,’ he added as the two young men bowed at one another stiffly.

Brid reached up and unself-consciously kissed Adam on the cheek. ‘I will see you soon.’ She smiled at him and touched his face with her hand. For a fraction of a second she clawed her fingers and he thought he heard a gentle purr. Then she and Gartnait had gone.

Robbie whistled. ‘Who on earth were they?’ He sat down next to Adam and stared at him hard. ‘They’re not from round here. What weird clothes!’

Adam was shivering. Not for the first time he realised that something about Brid frightened him intensely. ‘I met them over the other side of the hill,’ he said slowly. ‘Gartnait is a stone carver. He travels around.’

‘And the beautiful young lady?’ Robbie’s eyes were alight with intrigue.

Adam forced himself to smile. ‘She’s his sister.’

Robbie punched him on the shoulder. ‘You randy old devil! How did you manage to get yourself a girlfriend like that!’

Adam flushed painfully and he felt a shock of annoyance go through him as well as fear. In spite of himself he glanced round. But they were alone in the centre of the huge bowl of the surrounding hills. ‘Don’t be daft. She’s no one. Just someone I met.’ Even as he said it he felt he was betraying her, but Brid and Gartnait and Robbie were worlds apart and he intended to keep them that way. He felt the cold weight of silver on his chest suddenly and shrugged the open neck of his shirt closed, surreptitiously fastening the button. He had no intention of letting Robbie see the pendant round his neck. As soon as he was alone he would remove it.

He stayed alone in the tent that night, but she did not return. Nor the next, and on the Saturday Adam packed up his gear and took it back to the manse.

With something like relief he put her out of his mind. Three times the following week he cycled over to Robbie’s and together they planned what they would do when they got to Edinburgh. It was finally beginning to dawn on Adam that he was actually leaving, and his thoughts turned to Brid less and less often, visiting him only at night in his dreams. Her silver charm was hidden in a box in the bottom of one of his drawers.

His results arrived; his grades were excellent and his place at medical school was confirmed. Numb with shock and excitement he received the news in his father’s study and stood looking down at the letter in his hand.

‘Congratulations, Adam.’ Thomas smiled at him. ‘I am very proud of you.’

Adam was speechless for a moment. He read the letter again. There was no doubt; there it was in black and white.

‘A great step,’ his father went on. ‘You’ll make a fine doctor one day, son.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ At last Adam found his tongue.

In half an hour it hit him with dizzying force. He was on his way. He was going to the city. He was leaving the manse forever. He did not intend to come back, even in the vacations. He was going to be a doctor.

This time he did not give Brid a second’s thought.

Broichan was waiting when Brid returned to the bothy with Gartnait, seated in front of the fire. There was no sign of Gemma.

‘So, you have been trespassing beyond our world. You have lied and cheated and broken your vows!’

‘No!’ Brid faced him, her cheeks flaming. ‘I have betrayed no one!’

‘You have betrayed me. And you have betrayed your gods.’ Broichan had not raised his voice. ‘On your horse. We leave now for the north.’

‘But I’m staying here –’

‘You are staying nowhere!’ Broichan stood up, towering over her. ‘You have betrayed your brother and your mother. You have betrayed the blood that runs in your veins. You have betrayed your calling –’

‘You have no proof of any of this! You are guessing –’

‘I have proof enough. I have watched you in the fire and in the water. I have seen you lying like a drab with the boy son of the Jesus priest.’ He moved towards her and Brid flinched backwards. ‘Collect your bags and come now, or I shall tie you like a slave and drag you behind my horse!’

She had no choice. Trembling, Brid collected her belongings, kissed Gemma, who had been waiting silent and afraid inside the bothy, and climbed onto her pony. Somehow she managed to keep her head high, the colour still strong in her cheeks, as Broichan led the way up onto the track where his servants and his escort were waiting.

The sun had barely moved a hand’s breadth across the sky when the riders crossed over into the next glen and were lost from sight.

Once back at Craig Phádraig, she settled into the routine of the seminary, avoiding Broichan as much as possible, her defiance secret, her anger against him simmering, comforting herself in the lonely evenings with the knowledge that Broichan was jealous of her power and by watching Adam from afar. When he joined Robbie for bicycle rides or hikes in the hills she could see them from the body of a skylark, high above the fields; when he lay at night in bed, dreaming of her, she knew it and crept to the window sill in the body of a village cat, purring with secret delight, and when he swam in the burn up on the hillside, relishing the last of the summer’s heat, she thought herself into the slim brown body of a mountain trout and flicked her tail against his naked thighs.

It was while she was watching Adam in her quiet cell one stormy autumnal night that Broichan walked in and caught her.

‘So, little cat, you have learned to spy on your lover.’ Broichan’s voice was a silky murmur.

Brid jumped with fear. The small room, lit only by the smoky flame of an oil lamp, was full of leaping shadows.

Watching her, Broichan smiled. ‘Such a waste. You have great gifts, my niece. You could have been a priestess, a seer, a bard, who knows, even a queen.’ He folded his arms under his cloak. ‘But you choose to betray me. You cannot be trusted with your talents – you waste them on a village boy and sully your initiation vows. Only one thing can redeem you, little Brid. Your blood shall be given to the gods with your brother’s when the time comes to dedicate the stone, so that your soul can be born again in a fresh guileless body –’

‘No!’ She made to stand up, her face as white as alabaster, but he raised his hand and held it in front of her.