“If it really isn’t a problem, I would like that very much.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.
~ * ~
The storm blew out during the night and the day dawned clear and bright. Niall sent a messenger with an appropriate offering to the Dominican abbey several hours ride away. It thrilled Katherine when the messenger returned the next day, accompanied by Father Colm. As big and strong as any warrior, only his priest’s robes said otherwise. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with vitality, but his white hair and beard suggested he had at least three score years behind him.
Katherine had a room prepared for him in the east tower and he immediately became an important fixture at Duncurra. Although clearly a very spiritual man, he was warm and friendly, always more than willing to help with whatever work he could. This endeared him to the clan instantly, and it was common to see him lifting stones to mend a wall, or helping to repair a roof. If anyone hesitated to accept his help, he informed them he considered the work a “corporal act of mercy,” and in failing to allow him to help them, they would deny him the opportunity to perfect his soul. Coming from a priest this argument sounded reasonable, and on hearing it, the villagers nearly always accepted his help, but Katherine suspected the old priest just liked to stay busy.
In the evenings Father Colm usually joined those gathered at the hearth, often telling stories that had everyone enthralled. On one of these evenings shortly after he arrived, Katherine finally learned why this gentle priest looked like a warrior. He was a warrior, or at least had been one before becoming a priest. In fact, he had been a mercenary, an extremely talented swordsman.
The youngest of five brothers, he had been an ambitious young man. He had sought wealth and glory with his sword arm. He hired himself to whatever lord or baron would pay him the most. Travelling throughout England and France, soon he cared little about the nature of the duties assigned to him, as long as the purse that came with it was heavy enough. Because of his skill and reputation for ruthlessness, the purses became heavier and heavier.
“One day I found myself in the midst of a fierce and bloody battle. I had either forgotten the reason for the fight or never knew what it was in the first place. I was simply there to kill. I showed no mercy. In truth, my soul was empty—I had no mercy to show. I was covered in blood and gore, but none of it was my own. Opposing warriors lay dead around me. I’m sure the stench of death permeated the air, but I didn’t notice. My broad sword was raised over my head, prepared to cleave yet another warrior in two, when for some reason I hesitated. I truly believe God stayed my hand, for in that moment of hesitation, I realized it was not a warrior standing before me.”
“Who was it?” asked Tomas, enthralled.
“It was just a scared lad, Tomas, a squire of no more than four and ten. His lord had fallen, he wore no armor, nor did he wield a weapon. In the moment I hesitated, he ran. I was horrified by what I had almost done. After that battle, I wondered how many faceless men, perhaps even boys, I had slaughtered for no other reason than to fill my own purse. Make no mistake, there are just wars. Certainly there is nobility in defending one’s home or fighting an injustice, but there was nothing noble in what I was doing. That realization shattered me. I asked to be released and I came home to the Highlands.
“Once home, I realized simply walking away was not enough to soothe my conscience. My sins haunted me for years, but I found solace in faith. That is why I eventually became a priest. I used the riches I had acquired to help those in need.”
“Can ye still wield a sword?” asked Tomas, rapt.
“Aye, lad, I can, but while I would still lift a sword if I had to in defense, I shall never do so again for personal gain.”
~ * ~
While she continued to feel ill and more tired than usual, Katherine loved being able to attend daily Mass once again, but she wasn’t the only one. She learned Highlanders in general tended to be very devout, so the chapel was often full.
Edna, too, attended daily Mass, often with the giant Turcuil at her side. As conversation wasn’t his strong suit, Katherine suspected Turcuil felt less self-conscious with Edna when in an environment where the only words he had to speak were the responses of the ancient liturgy.
As they neared the end of Advent, a time of prayer and fasting, Katherine threw herself into preparing for the feasts and celebrations of Christmas and the Epiphany. She ensured the entire keep was cleaned and decorated with holly, ivy, and bay. As he had promised, Laird MacLennan returned to Duncurra with a small retinue for the Christmas celebrations.
Katherine had mixed feelings about Laird MacLennan. Clearly both Niall and Fingal respected him, considering him part of the family. Yet when he had first arrived with Eithne, Katherine would have welcomed more support from him. However, when he arrived days before Christmas, charming and affable, she thought perhaps she had overreacted. Malcolm’s presence brought one unexpected but welcome benefit—Eithne focused her full attention on entertaining him. This gave Katherine a much needed respite from her sniping. Soon Katherine wondered why she had ever dreaded his arrival.