Hugh neither mocked nor called me a follower of Satan.'I have never met anybody with such a power before.'If anything, he sounded sad rather than doubtful.Releasing the bridle of my horse, he began to move again.'When I heard your voice in the dungeon, I knew that you were above the common set of people, and as soon as I saw your face, I knew you were a most noble piece of work, a paragon.'
'I am none of that,' I told him.I did not tell him of the ache in my heart every time I looked at him, or the lust in my loins.Some things are better left unsaid when one is riding alone with a vibrant man in the stark hills of the Borderland.Nor did I tell him of my sense of desolation when I compared him to my Robert.That, I decided, must remain forever unsaid and only admitted to myself.
'You have given your word.'Hugh seemed to have accepted my visions without a qualm.'It is a sign of a wonderful woman to keep your word after so long.'
My hurt made me turn on him with some heat.'Is it a sign of a wonderful woman to bed a strange man within the Nine Stane Rig?'
His silence was eloquent of the pain my words caused him.I know that men have the ability to hurt women with their physical strength.I did not then know that the best of men are vulnerable to equally deep hurt by the words of women for whom they care.We are a careless sex with our tongues, injuring sometimes without consideration and driving pain deep within the hearts of those we love and who love us most.Sometime a wise king may pass a law protecting women from the hands of men.It will need to be a wiser queen to pass a similar law protecting men from the tongues of women.
I do not know how long our silence endured but we were many miles from Liddesdale before Hugh spoke again.He continued our conversation as if there had been no gap.
'Am I still that strange a man?I find it unlikely that a woman such as you would bed a man she thinks a stranger.'
I had also been thinking.'A woman such as myself has a hot desire,' I said, still tart, 'and perhaps that desire will overcome any objections to the strangeness of the man I happen to be with.'Although the words were mainly directed toward myself, Hugh visibly flinched.I had hurt him again.I learned again how easy it is to hurt a man who loves you.It is the ones you hurt that matter most, always.If they did not care, they would not feel the wounds our tongues create.We do damage to our loves by such behaviour and wonder why our men seek solace with others with gentler words and comforting bodies.A woman's tongue is too potent a weapon to be misused.
'So, I was just one among many then.'Hugh had been stung to retaliate and I did not like his response.'A woman of your ardent desire must have bedded many men, strange or not, in her lifetime.'It may have been chance that he rode an arms-length away rather than with our knees near touching but I rather fancied that he was pulling away physically as I lambasted him verbally.
Hurt by his words, I responded by inflicting more pain, hating myself while searching for venom.'You are just one,' I told him.'A man I met while on a journey, a male body on which to slake my lust.Nothing more.'
I could not have wounded him deeper or said words that were further from the truth.He turned away from me, a man who had sought grace from a graceless face and found vindictiveness when he hoped for a spirit as generous as his own.I should have apologised then; I should have withdrawn my barbed words and thrown myself on my knees to beg mercy from the kindest and most noble man I had ever met.Instead, I tore the helmet from my head and threw it into the rough heather at the side of the road, allowed my hair to flow freely down my back and kicked in my spurs so I cantered ahead of him.Let him see my back, I thought, and the set of my shoulders.Insufferable man!
We rode like that, with me forging the path northward to Tweed-dale and Hugh two horse-lengths behind.I nursed my wrath, keeping it warm as I told myself that Hugh had wronged me with his words and he deserved my scorn and vituperation, while all the time feeling the desolation of loss fighting the anger I stoked.Behind me, I did not know how Hugh felt.Sometimes I wished that he would spur forward, tip me off my horse and drag me into the heather to treat me as he had done so well within the Nine Stone Rig.I did not know, then, that good men did not act so.Good men gave their women respect and love; they did not act in such an ungentlemanly manner.I wished for Hugh to turn into a brute beast while still retaining his essential kindly qualities.Such things do not happen: Hugh was a gentleman in all the best meanings of the word.He remained behind me, silent, perhaps brooding, and despite my gnawing temper and the lingering sting of my words, I knew that he would look after me if a mishap occurred on the road.There was a word for that; a word that I dared not say although within me I knew what it was.
That word was love.Hugh had voiced it and I had rejected it, yet my rejection had not nullified the reality, only pushed it aside.I knew that Hugh loved me; men like him did not say such things without consideration and thought.I also knew that I loved him.
That was a love that could never be admitted if I wished peace of mind.It was a word that turned itself over within my mind and tore great holes in my heart.It was a forbidden love that had caused me to react with such venom.I hated that love for destroying the certainty of my life and because I rejected that love I also rejected the cause and fountain of it.I hated Hugh for making me love him.In that confused oxymoron of emotions, I rode along that damp track through the stark green hills of the Borders with my mood becoming fouler by the mile.
When I was not hoping for Hugh to come to me, I wished only to be left alone with my thoughts, my unfair anger, and my sense of impending loss.As I alternated between hatred and love, I did not want to see Hugh leave me, and leave me he must for with the feud between our surnames, he would be in grave danger the instant he rode into the Lethan Valley.
'Horsemen ahead.'They were the first words that Hugh had spoken for hours.They jerked me out of my reverie and into the reality of our physical situation.I looked around and recognised where we were.The surrounding hills were only a dozen miles from the Lethan, with familiar shapes and friendly outlines.There was a late-season laverock trilling above, perhaps even that same bird I had heard as we harvested the crops only a few days and a lifetime ago.I could not see any horsemen.
'A round score,' Hugh continued, 'moving slowly.'
I wondered whether I wished to talk to him yet.'Where?'I could spare a single word.It did not mean that I liked him, only that I had decided it was necessary to recognise his existence: nothing more.
'They are in front and on the hills on either side.'Hugh was more loquacious.'Four are on the road and the others are supporting.I can hear the rattle of equipment, so they are armed.'
'All men are armed on the road!'I injected a sneer into my words, still aiming to hurt him and feeling the stab of pain in my own heart.
I heard Hugh unsheathe his sword.'Keep close, My Lady Jeannie,' he said quietly.'They may not be our friends.'
I nearly turned to face him.Instead, I reined in just slightly, just enough to obey his advice but not enough, certainly not enough, to allow him to think that he mattered to me.
The horsemen appeared on the crest of the hill to my right, and then to my left.They rode in line abreast, each man with his lance and sword, each one with the steel helmet firm on his head, each one with the high morning sun on his face.Eight on each side and four on the road, exactly as Hugh had said, and I knew each man by name and reputation, by family and history.
'Father!'I nearly screamed the word as I saw Father at the head, with his homely bearded face set, and then, 'Robert!'For Robert rode at his side, sturdy, freckled Robert Ferguson, my own, my very own Robert riding south to rescue me.
Without a thought I shouted his name and put spurs to my horse, waving my hand in delight.And so, I bade farewell to Hugh Veitch and rode to Robert.And my destiny.I hardly looked back, thinking that Hugh would be behind me.
'Father!'I galloped to him as he spurred to meet me, shouting my name.The others, the vanguard of the armed might of the Tweedies of the Lethan Valley rode down from the hills to see me.We met in a maelstrom of shouts and a confusion of embraces and laughter, with Robert all a-grin and the boys of the Lethan asking a hundred questions.
'Where did you get that horse from?'Robert asked.'She's a beauty.'
It was such a typical Robert response that I had to laugh and my father embraced me in his great bear-like arms as his grizzled beard tickled my face and his nose pressed against mine.
'You are well?'
'I am well,' I said excitedly, smiling into his wise, worried old eyes.
