“No,” she said softly.
“It’s surprised me. I don’t feel the desire to seek distant horizons any more. I’ll still get my ship someday though, don’t you worry, but there are plenty of opportunities to trade closer to home. I won’t need to be far from you women for long.”
A sinking feeling pulled at her, making it impossible to look at him then. He didn’t imagine her on the ship with him, working with him, exploring and trading alongside him. He imagined her at home with Mairi, waiting for him, helping to look after the home and any children they had. Children who were planned and wanted.
“I’m happy for you, Pa,” she said, forcing a smile.
She began to harden herself again to the idea of leaving Braddon as she’d always planned to do. Then she thought about how Aedan had sailed away once, leaving Morwena behind, heartbroken and with child. Did he purposely leave when things got difficult? Is that just what I’m planning to do too? Is that what I did when I left Gwyn? She tried to persuade herself that the prospect of living with Mairi was not why she was leaving. She was leaving to seek answers and justice for her mother.
She looked down at the fish she’d carved and thought of the salmon run she and Aedan had been looking forward to seeing in the Autumn. She wouldn’t see it this year, for she would be making her own journey back to the place where she was born.
They made their way to Cannasay where the fragrance of wood smoke mingled in the salty air and pans sizzled with frying fish, eggs and sweet pancakes. A rhythm of drumbeats danced upon the air, punctuating the chattering and laughter. Kaetha’s feet tapped to the beat and she found herself smiling, determined to enjoy herself tonight.
“Kaetha!” Elspet grabbed her hand.
“Come and have food with us,” said Rorie who appeared at his sister’s side.
As happened all too often when Rorie started a conversation with her, her tongue felt fat and stupid in her mouth, unable to form even simple words like ‘thank you’. It was because he had surprised her, she considered. She touched her earrings and smoothed down her plait as she followed them to one of the beach fires. Dermid knelt by the fire, its light shining on his balding head. He prodded fillets of mackerel and they crackled in the pan, glistening with melted butter, rings of onion softening around them. When they were cooked, they ate them on top of slices of toasted bread, sprinkled with herbs.
“Good?” asked Rorie.
She nodded. “Good,” she said with her mouth full of crunchy toast and rich, oily fish. Mairi joined them then and Kaetha discerned the subtle looks she and Aedan exchanged which she might have overlooked before, looks which implied confidence and security as well as the affection which must have been apparent to all.
The swollen sun, golden as an egg yolk, was easing its way down through the western sky, casting a bronze light on the distant Greyhide Hills of Penntir. Tonight would be the shortest night of the year. A time for change.
Aedan unstoppered a leather bottle of whiskey and Jean produced some cups. “What’s for you won’t go by you,” said Aedan. A frown creased his brow. “Where’s Donnan? Wasn’t he meant to meet us here?”
“He was meant to help out at the smokehouse but never showed up,” said Kaetha, looking around.
“Well, we’ll save him a dram.” Aedan raised his cup. “Drink up, everyone.”
Mairi tapped her cup against Kaetha’s. Unused to neat whisky, it felt like liquid fire sliding down her throat and she panted in the cool air, the others laughing at her. She couldn’t help laughing herself.
“Let’s hope Macomrag gets the ceremony right and satisfies the spirits of the sea,” said Dermid.
Rorie rolled his eyes making Elspet giggle.
“Don’t you go offending the spirits of the sea, lad,” said Jean, pointing a finger at him. “It them that provide the fish that fills your belly.”
“I don’t like this talk of spirits,” said Mairi with a shiver. “Personally, I like to get the ceremony over with quickly. More time then for people to enjoy themselves.”
“Is that right?” Aedan gave Mairi a meaningful look and her cheeks went a little pink.
They all stood as Indulf Macomrag appeared. One of his clansmen draped a seal hide cloak over his shoulders and placed a necklace of fish bones over his head. Kaetha saw Murdo looking on, a look of barely suppressed repulsion on his face.
“What’s Murdo’s problem?” she asked.
“The ceremony was an Edonian one originally, though the Macomrags pretend it’s an old family tradition of theirs,” said Rorie.
“But why do they do it? They hate everything Edonian, don’t they?” she said.
“Indulf forbade other ceremonies and traditions but allowed the people this one,” said Dermid. “He had to give us something Edonian to quell the rebellions.”
“And he gets the chance to look powerful,” added Jean.
The high chieftain strode across a jetty and stepped onto a rowing boat which had been decked in trailing seaweeds. The crowd hushed.
“Today, I completed the riding of the clanland bounds, calling on the heavens for the protection of our land and giving thanks for our peaceful relations with our neighbours,” boomed Indulf. He spread his arms wide. “People of Mormuin and welcome guests from the clanlands of Penntir and Artos, we celebrate the blessings of Sea and Sun on this, the longest day.” There was a scattered cheer amongst the people. Indulf took a large spiralled shell from the boat and dipped it into the sea, lifting it high, then drinking from it, saltwater dripping down his beard. “The sea is in our blood,” he called.
“The sea is in our blood,” responded the crowd all together. Aedan poured them each
