"How long?" he asked as they headed back toward the exit.
"Two days," the blacksmith promised. He turned to Maeve and said, "And it will change yer life, Miss. Ye have me word."
12
Chapter Twelve
Maeve tried very hard to show restraint. Curiosity burned inside her from the moment that the pin showed up in Cailean's hand, and his every action since had only inflamed it more. Why had he been so insistent that the thing be destroyed? What did the capercaillie symbolize? Where had he gotten something of so much worth? And, more than that, more than anything, why in the world had he given up something so evidently precious for her sake?
She managed to stay quiet only until they got to the horses, but just before she mounted, she realized that she couldn't do it. "Cailean?"
He sighed. "I dinnae want tae talk about it, Mary. Let's just go back tae the camp, aye?"
"But why did ye do this for me?" she pressed. "I saw that pin. It wasnae nothin', so dinnae try tae dismiss it as such. There was somethin' very serious that just happened."
"It was nothin' serious at all." Cailean turned fully around to face her, the expression on his face serious. "Ye needed a new sword. The blacksmith is good tae the rebellion and he needed some way tae make sure that he could feed himself and his family. And I had the means. What more does there have tae be to it than that?"
A lot of difference. It wasn't even about the financial value of the pin and the sword, though Maeve was, of course, uncomfortably aware of how much it would be. However, she'd been the daughter of a rich family and the wife of an even richer man; she was used to having the finest things around her whether she wanted them or not. But nobody had ever done something so deeply personal for her. Nobody had ever gone out of their way to do something that was meant just for her, sensitive to what she might want and indeed need. She couldn't wrap her head around why or even how Cailean could do such a thing, and her heart felt overwhelmed by a complex web of emotions that she didn't even know how to name.
"Stop makin' that face," he told her. "I'd have done the same for any of the others if they were in need. Does that make ye feel better?"
It did, a little, but Maeve wasn't entirely sure that it was true. After all, how many priceless pins could he have in his possession? "Why did ye insist that it was melted down?" she asked.
Cailean said, "The gold will be better for him in its base form, I bet. Up here in the village, there's nae market for such intricately designed jewelry as that. Havin' the gold and bein' able to either reshape it or sell it is how it will be much better for Arthur and his family."
That made sense, but Maeve wasn't convinced that this was the whole truth either. Something about all of this simply wasn't adding up, but she couldn't even begin to understand where the missing clues were hiding.
"Why a capercaillie?" she asked eventually. "Can ye at least answer me that? It's a game bird; that makes it a bit of a strange symbol, though it is a bonny representation of the Highlands I suppose."
Cailean looked at her thoughtfully for a second. "Ye didnae recognize the symbol, then?"
She shook her head. "No. Should I have?"
"No, of course not," he replied. He smiled with a strange expression in his eyes, then said, "I wasnae the one that had the pin made. I couldnae tell ye."
Maeve could tell that there was an answer on the tip of his tongue, and suddenly, she was determined to solve this tiny little mystery at least, even if the greater mysteriousness that surrounded Cailean was thicker and more obscuring than the cloaks they both wore. "Then if ye hypothetically had tae guess why a capercaillie would be a symbol…"
He snorted. "Ye dinnae give up, do ye?" he asked. He patted his horse's flank, then sighed. "All right. Let's say that once, a few generations ago, a man got lost in the woods. He'd been attacked by bandits, and he had nae weapon, nae map, and nae direction or idea of how tae get home. He got turned around and accidentally wandered deeper intae the forest, and when he couldnae find a river to lead him out, he thought that this would be the moment that he would die."
Maeve stayed silent. She did not want to ask any questions and interrupt his story, though she couldn't tell if he was making it up or reciting something from memory.
"Weak, exhausted, and injured, the man sat down on the forest floor and closed his eyes. He kent that soon enough there would be a wild predator who'd come along and find him, and that would be the end of him. In his heart, he thought only of his new bride, whom he'd left alone tae come on this huntin' trip. He hoped she would have a long, healthy life without him, though he mourned that he'd never live tae see his son."
Cailean smiled, and Maeve suddenly realized this was a story he must have heard from someone else, perhaps from a parent long ago. He had a faraway, gentle look in his eyes.
"And then he heard the squawk. When he looked up, there it was: a huge, feathery grouse, a capercaillie, starin' at him from the edge of the treeline. He pulled himself tae his feet, and the creature began tae run — they're not well-flighted birds, ye understand. And because he kent not what else tae do, the man began tae follow the bird, hopin' against hope it would lead him tae water. He knew that he would probably lose sight of it, but somethin' amazing happened. Every single time he stumbled, the bird seemed tae pause in runnin' away, almost as though it were waitin' for him."
Maeve could see it in her mind's eye — the weakened warrior, who looked like Cailean in her mind, and the majestic fan-tailed bird, running through the trees like a creature of the faerie folk. It seemed almost magical. "What happened after?" she dared ask.
"The capercaillie led the man right tae the edge of the forest," Cailean explained. "And it met his eyes and made a low noise in its throat. The man stumbled on until he found the road, and there a kind traveler helped him get home. Soon after, the man's son was born, and the whole family lived good and well for generations after. The man made the capercaillie the symbol of his home, partly in thanks tae the creature who had saved him, and partly a reminder that even the simplest of game birds can be a hero when it matters the most."
Silence followed the story for a few moments. Maeve quietly asked, "Was that yer ancestor? The man in the woods?"
"Mary, it was just a story," he replied with a shrug. "Ye asked, and I told ye. Now, come on, our horses are gettin' impatient standin' around."
Maeve chewed on her lip. Cailean could say what he liked, but it was clear that the pin had been some sort of meaningful family heirloom, and as far as she could tell, he had no family left. "Cailean, about the sword?—"
"Ye're gonnae take the sword," he interrupted. "And ye're gonnae do me one favor in exchange."
