Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

" W ho I am is not important," Gowan stated firmly. "I am no one you know, and no one you are ever likely to concern yourself with. Once you are feeling better you can leave here and never look back." He had pulled his hood up again, and clearly, despite having revealed his face to her, he was still self-conscious.

"And you? What will you do?" Minna was troubled. "I know where you are now, and I know what you look like. I have no idea of your name, but I know your face and your voice now, and I know you are the tallest man for miles around here. If I tell people I am sure it will be easy to identify you."

Gowan was silent. She was right. The only thing keeping her in the hut was the bolt on the door, and if she could escape she could tell anyone she liked about him, including the Laird.

"I could kill you," he pointed out, trying to sound threatening. "I am a big man."

"That you are," she agreed. "But you are not a killer. I have met killers, and you are not one of them. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it by now. You would not have helped me at all, but let me die. No, you know what suffering is and you will not inflict it on anyone else."

She sat down beside him and looked into his shadowed face. At first, he avoided her eyes, looking down at his hands, then he looked up. When she first laid eyes on him, Minna had been astonished at the improbable contrast between his deep brown eyes and golden blond hair, and she was still surprised every time she looked at him.

Now, in the shadow of the hood, they looked black. On an impulse, she reached forward and began to push the hood back over his hair, but he reached up to stop her. However, she resisted him and he let go of her hands, letting the fabric slip back over his hair.

At once, he lifted his right hand to shield the scars from her gaze, but Minna was not to be dissuaded from looking at them again. "Don't hide," she said gently. "You are a handsome man, Mister Whoever-you-are. I don't know why you are hiding away here."

"And I don't know why it is any of your business," he growled. "I am someone who prefers to be left alone, and that is all you need to know." He stood up and stalked out, and presently Minna heard the heavy bolt fall on the other side of the door. There was one on the inside too, but the man obviously relied on the fear of the villagers to keep them from bothering him. She wondered if any of the guards were as superstitious as these simple people were, however, she reasoned that they must be because the man had never been disturbed before.

With nothing else to do, Minna closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Gowan had never felt so restless. Usually, when he was not fishing or collecting his food from his traps, he exercised, putting his body through some punishing, rigorous routines that left him sweating and exhausted. After this, when he was absolutely worn out, he would go for a swim in the loch and let the freezing waters wash and refresh him. Afterwards he would feel hungry enough to eat and tired enough to go to bed.

He often dreamed of his mother and the last desperate look on her face as she sent him away, hopefully to safety. She had sacrificed herself for him, and he would be forever proud of her yet ashamed of himself. He should have died too, but in his dreams his mother would often tell him that such an action would do nothing to bring her back. It would be a sheer waste of a life, and everything that life could have accomplished. He tried to console himself with that thought, but it was never enough to banish his shame.

Now, as he sat beside the loch, his back against a tree trunk, he imagined her sitting beside him. She would have unbound her long dark blonde hair and would be combing it with her fingers, while he, only eight years old, was admiring it.

"Your hair is like a river, Mammy," he had said, leaning against her. He was never happier than when he was with her.

"And your eyes are like the lovely soft eyes of a cow," she replied, chuckling.

"I don't want to be a cow!" he protested indignantly. "I want to be a stag with great big antlers!" He raised his arms to show her.

"Just your eyes," she consoled him, squeezing his shoulders. "And your hair is like sunlight."

"Am I your best boy, Mammy?" he had asked, looking up at her adoringly.

"Of course you are," she replied, kissing his shining hair. "I wish I had another Gowan so I could love both of you."

He laughed. "Then you would only love me half as much," he pointed out.

"Oh, no, my son." His mother shook her head. "Think of it this way. When you have a little boy you have a little boy pie, but when another one comes along, you don't cut the boy pie in half. You bake a bigger pie."

Those words had stuck with him over all the years since, and he had often wondered why his mother had never baked a bigger pie and given him a brother or a sister.

"Because it was not meant to be," she had said, sighing. She had never told him about the three babies she had miscarried for fear of upsetting him, but looking back, Gowan realized that something dreadful had happened to his beloved mother. It made him mourn and miss her even more. He had loved his father too, of course, but he had adored his mother.

He went back to his exercises, lifting the heavy stones that he used as weights, stretching his body until he was as supple as a whip, turning cartwheels and somersaults, and fighting an invisible enemy with his dagger and fists.

Gowan also practiced archery, which was how he had provided the deer for the village. It had warmed his heart to see how much joy it gave them, and he resolved to provide them with another as soon as he could without arousing too much curiosity and suspicion.

He wandered around the woods for a long time, unable to settle his mind on anything but the beautiful woman who was awaiting him his cabin. She had said he was handsome. Handsome? He gave a cynical half-laugh. She must be blind, or mad. Who in their right mind could call his ugly, scarred face handsome? He had not looked in a mirror for years and that was exactly the way he liked it. He still shaved himself with the sharp blade of his dagger, however, although he had no idea why, since no-one ever saw him. Perhaps it was to remind himself that he was still a man, he thought.

He looked up at the sky and realized that the sun was beginning to go down.

The twilight at this time of year lasted for hours, but it was not every day that he had a ‘guest' at home. Gowan sighed reluctantly and stood up, stretched his shoulders and began to trudge back. He was both looking forward to and dreading seeing his guest again.

Minna had found some trout in the little chest where Gowan stored his food, and she lit a small fire to cook it. When it was ready, she added some mushrooms and chestnuts, leaving some wild cherries for a kind of pudding, as if she was cooking a formal meal. She would have given her eye teeth for some bread, but she doubted that the man had ever been able to dig that up in the wood! It was a meager meal, but it would have to do.

Suddenly the door opened and he stepped inside. He was once more wearing the hood, and half his face was hidden. Minna could only see his square cleft chin and the Cupid's bow shape of his firm lips.

Gowan had dug up some more mushrooms and had brought back bread, eggs and some cheese. When he saw Minna's offering he almost smiled. At least the corners of his mouth twitched a little.

"The fish is still warm," she informed him. "I have only just made it. I am sorry, but I could not find anything else to eat."

"Thank you for the food." He sat down beside her and brought out a carved wooden bowl and spoon, which he gave to her. "I managed to get some other things, as you can see." He held out the bread and cheese.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I was just thinking how much I would love some bread." She nodded in thanks, broke off a piece of the crusty bread and began to eat. She had not realized how hungry she was, and even though the food was humble, it still tasted like the best meal she had ever eaten.

"I am sorry," he said gently. "I usually have more meat but there has been little time for hunting. I got the rest of the food from the peddler with whom I trade."

"My visit was very ill-timed, it seems." Minna's voice was bitter. She took a deep breath as she watched him eating his food, then finally asked.

"How did you get your scars?"

He looked her straight in the eyes and opened his mouth to tell her, but hesitated, wondering whether to go on. Then he decided that it would be best to tell his story, since there seemed to be something about her he could trust, although he could not tell what it was. He always found it best to be guided by his instincts.

"My name is Gowan Hepburn," he told her. "And I am the rightful Laird of Cairndene." He lifted the hood and pushed it back. "Your father had my mother murdered and tried to kill me, but I escaped. I have been hiding here ever since.

I got my scar from the fire in the castle. A branch fell on me when I was running out of the castle. It burned all my hair off on that side too, but it grew back. My mother sacrificed herself for me, and her body was found in the loch a few days later.

The villagers of Cairndene gave her a decent, dignified burial, and for that I will be forever grateful to them. Yet to my shame I have been too afraid to come out of this forest, partly because I thought the Darroch soldiers might be looking for me but mostly because I looked so horrific. I knew that my scarred face would be associated with evil so knowing the simple, superstitious people that they are, I put the symbols around the woods to keep them away." He hung his head so that his shining golden hair fell over his face.

Minna looked at him in disbelief. "Everyone thinks you are dead," she told him.

"That was what I wanted them to think." His voice was grim. "I was in mourning for my mother, and I could not even attend her funeral. For a while I thought about killing myself, but one thing kept me going. Revenge."

She sighed. "I don't blame you. I would feel the same way, but surely you can't go on like this, speaking to no-one. It is not healthy." Then, without thinking, she reached out and brushed his hair back.

He looked up, and Minna smiled at him. "You are not ugly," she murmured. "Your face is barely scarred at all, and there is certainly no need to hide because of a mark. Most of whatever was there to start with has healed now."

"You can say that with confidence because this is not your face," he replied bitterly.

"There are a few wrinkles on your cheek and the corner of your left eye," Minna observed. "Do you not think that there are many men out there in a much worse state than you are? There are those who have lost arms and legs, and those who have had their minds scarred by what they have seen in battle."

"You make me feel so ashamed," Gowan said gloomily. "But would your brother's guards know me if I ventured out of this place? Would I not be cut down as soon as one of them saw me? My scars are hard to hide."

"I was just a girl of eleven years when all this happened," Minna pointed out. "I had heard about you, and Jamie had seen you, but only in the distance. Even if you had stood in front of him I doubt he would have guessed who you were. But then he is not too bright at the best of times." She almost spat the last words out.

"You have no love for your brother," Gowan observed, watching her keenly.

Minna stood up and paced around the cabin, her fists clenched. "He tried to kill me! What do you think? My brother is a drunk who does not care about anyone but himself," she replied. "He is evil and I despise him." Then she turned to look at him again. "Do you still want revenge? Would you like to have your land back?"

Gowan looked up and was mesmerized for a moment by the bright blue eyes that were staring back at him questioningly.

"Of course," he replied, sighing. "I hate the way it is being run - or not run. But I am only one man. I admire you for standing up to James Darroch. Perhaps if I had been so brave I would be the master of my own estate."

"You were barely even an adult," Minna pointed out. "What could you have done?" She shrugged, then yawned.

"It is time you slept," he told her. He pulled over a thin pallet from the corner. It was made from dried fir leaves over which a thin blanket had been stretched, and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Minna was also uncomfortable. She was trapped in a small enclosure with a very big man whom she had only just met. He could do anything he wanted with her and she would be powerless to stop him, but somehow, perhaps naively, she felt that she could trust him.

Having arranged another blanket on the mat, he turned to her and saw her fearful expression. "You are in no danger from me, Minna. I have never, and will never harm a woman. I remember too well what happened to my mother. Goodnight."

He lay down on the floor and closed his eyes, and a moment later, Minna did the same.