He was a huge fellow who was only a little smaller than Gowan called Hugh Devine, and his favorite pastime was poking fun at Gowan’s scar and calling him all kinds of obscene names.
“Hey, Scabby!” he shouted one day when they had paused their labors for a drink of ale. “Come an’ tell us how ye got them ugly things on your face. Was it your missus? Did she chuck a candle at ye? Dip your head in the fire?”
Before, Gowan had found that the best solution to hearing the familiar, unending litany of taunts was to keep quiet, but after days and days of abuse he could not stand it any more.
Hugh might have been a big man, but he was fat, and there was very little useful muscle on him, and Gowan suddenly saw a way to do it. The crew had been building a wall for a new church, and a great number of dressed stones were stacked against a wall waiting to be cemented into place.
Gowan walked over to a spot that was halfway between Hugh and the stones then threw his ale into the big man’s face. Hugh spluttered with outrage.
“You swine!” he roared, before launching himself off the wall behind him towards Gowan.
However, Gowan, with very little effort, had picked up one of the rocks and calmly walked forward to press it against Hugh’s stomach, pinning him to the half-built wall. He leaned his full weight against it, then gave the big man a smile that chilled him to the marrow of his bones. “I have had enough of you,” he said in a voice that was dangerously quiet and throbbing with fury. His deep dark eyes were like polished black pebbles as they blazed into Hugh’s.
The big man was now gasping for air, and his eyes were full of terror, but all Gowan could see were the eyes of the soldiers who dragged his mother away the last time he had seen her. This great lump of flesh was a great bully who enjoyed making life a misery for those who could not defend themselves. He had obviously mistaken Gowan for one of them.
“That was the last time you ever insulted me,” Gowan hissed. “Today I feel merciful, but do not test me again, or I will give you even worse scars than the ones I have. Don’t think I am jesting. I never make promises I can't keep. Understand?”
Hugh nodded frantically, absolutely terrified of the dark fury in Gowan’s gaze.
Gowan stepped back and the stone fell, barely missing Hugh’s feet. The big man was shaking with fear and relief. A blow with the stone would have shattered his toes.
Neither Hugh nor any of the other men ever bothered Gowan again. He was treated with a wary respect, but he did not make any friends, which was just the way he preferred it.
After a short while Gowan had earned enough money to buy himself some clothes and a few warm blankets for the winter, as well as a few other essentials. He worked for two more weeks, then he walked back to Cairndene, and never ventured out of the forest again except to go fishing and buy a little bit of food. His need for human companionship had been more than satisfied for the time being.
* * *
When Gowan came back to his little refuge he brought with him a few bottles of good wine and one of whisky, and although he knew that he could not keep the wine long, he made it last as long as he could. He was saving the whisky for winter, when he would need something to keep him warm during the long cold nights.
He thought long and hard about the game in the forest too. If the villagers of Cairndene were really as hungry as they said then perhaps he should do something to help them. However, picking up the stones so that the ‘devil’ would disappear was not an option. Gowan needed them to be afraid of the woods, so he had to try to help them in some other way.
A deer would last the village for a while, but the deer belonged to the Laird, even though he would never be able to eat the entire herd. They were merely a symbol of his prestige, and after his feasts most of their heads were stuffed and hung on the wall of the Great Hall and dining room to impress his guests. Most Lairds did the same.
Still, Gowan thought bitterly, he should have been the Laird, so the deer were rightly his anyway. He was an expert archer, having been brought up with the expectation that he would be a landowner and therefore a kind of gamekeeper one day. Accordingly, having practiced for a few days to sharpen his skills, he brought down a doe a few days later at the new moon, when conditions were just right. It was a big, well-fed animal, and although it took him hours, Gowan dragged it into the village and left it in the square next to the town well during the darkest part of the night.
“Eat well, my friends,” he said quietly, before creeping back among the trees again.
When the villagers found the animal in the morning, the rejoicing lasted for hours. It had been discovered by one of the children, a seven-year-old called William Tate, who whooped with delight as he stroked the carcass.
He ran inside to inform his parents and soon the whole village was out in the square exclaiming over the feast. The whole of Cairndene numbered about forty people, so the meat would not last long if eaten fresh, but many of them would dry and pickle it for winter. The hide would no doubt be used to make shoes, the bones boiled with vegetables for soup, so not a scrap would be wasted.
Watching them, Gowan smiled. His heart was warm inside, knowing that he had done a good thing, and as he looked at the delighted faces of the villagers, he knew that this would not be his last gift to them.
7
“When are ye goin’ tae stop daein’ this?” Lorna demanded as she braided Minna’s hair into a tight plait, ready for her fifth nightly excursion in a row.
“I will stop when there is no need to do it any more, Lorna,” she replied firmly. “How would you like it if you were hungry and you knew someone who could help you, but that person did nothing? It is not something I do to make myself feel good. It is my duty.”
Lorna sighed, but nodded in agreement. “Ye’re right, hen, but I worry about ye.”
She looked so distressed that Minna turned around and hugged her. “You have told me so a thousand times, Lorna, and you have asked me to stop a thousand times too.” Her voice was gentle. “Believe me, I would stop if I could, but I can't. As long as my brother is treating his people this way I have to do what is right.” She looked into her friend’s eyes and saw the love in them. They had been together for so long that they could not live without each other.
“I am comin’ with ye,” Lorna said angrily.
“Indeed you are not!” Minna’s face was a mask of anger. “It is bad enough that I have to do this, but I am not dragging you into it as well. Stay here.”
Lorna was stunned into silence. Minna rarely raised her voice unless it was something very serious, and it had been a long time since she had seen her so angry.