She tried not to become frustrated, and she told herself there was every chance of her catching up with Caillen when he slowed his pace down on approach to the town. Bessie seemed happy to trot as fast as she could along the rutted track, and Emer took comfort in the beauty of the countryside around her.
They went at a clipping pace around a sharp bend, and Emer nearly jumped out of her saddle in fright and dismay. Not thirty yards ahead of her, Caillen had stopped to chat with one of his tenants. She had no time to jump down and hide. The best she could do was jerk Bessie’s bridle sharply to one side and ride her into a ditch. The little palfrey took offense at the sudden change of pace and trotted all the way into the hedgerow.
Emer tried every prayer her mother had ever taught her to try and remain serene, but it did not work. She found herself silently cursing Gawain and vowing this was the last time she would ever do anything for him again.
Bessie stood patiently in the ditch, munching on some grass growing along the edge. Emer had to dismount after she had freed her pretty bonnet and ringlets from the brambles in the hedgerow to pull the pony out of the ditch using the bridle. She took the opportunity provided to her by the brambles to peek around the corner and see when Caillen rode off. She did not have to wait long, however, and watched as he gave the man a cheerful wave and kicked Menzies into a trot once more.
Knowing she must look perfectly frightful with her bonnet askew, her ringlets all awry, and beads of sweat dotting her brow, Emer trotted past the interested tenant and followed the stallion, her mouth firmly clamped to stop herself from uttering all the curse words she wanted to say.
This time, she was able to keep horse and rider within sight at all times. Caillen had slowed the stallion down to a walk and seemed to be enjoying the splendid burst of countryside as much as his secret companion did. Just as the church spire of Lachlainn could be seen on the skyline, Caillen seemed to change his mind about going to the town at all. He swerved the horse to one side and disappeared into a side lane. He had to dismount and open a gate, but Emer guessed he owned this land too because he simply left the gate open and rode into the woods just beyond it.
The trees were sparse, signifying they were more likely to be used as a source of firewood for the town or as a windbreak, but the copse was still thick enough to hide Caillen from her sight. Emer was torn; should she ride blindly into the trees or turn round?
I’m going to follow him, nae matter what obstacle is in the path-’tis the only way I can convince Gawain his brither has no bad intentions toward him or the clan.
She entered the copse. It was dark and close amidst all the bushes and branches; the scuttling of small animals undergrowth told her there might be fields full of grain and seed nearby, a favored source of food for rodents. She wondered if the farmers hereabouts used Scottish terriers to help them control the crop-eating vermin like her father used to do.
After a while, the copse suddenly cleared, and Emer saw a small croft in front of her. Menzies was tethered at the rails outside with a trough of water next to him. Silently, Emer hooked Bessie’s bridle onto a tree branch and inspected the croft carefully, crouching behind one of the bushes.
Dare I approach one o’ the window shutters and peek into the room? There might be hounds, or even worse, the people inside might see me.
Emer imagined what it would look like if Caillen really was meeting with some of his nefarious seafaring brethren inside the croft. The sight of her face popping up above one of the window casements would hardly be likely to cultivate any feelings of leniency toward her.
I’m silly. The only thing inside that croft is another one of Caillen’s tenants and possibly a jug o’ mead on the table. That’s a shepherd’s sheiling if ever I saw one, and the minute I get out from inside this blasted forest, I will hear the sound of sheep bleating.
Feeling she had adequately convinced herself there was no danger, Emer got ready to leave the safety of the bushes and venture out to look in the croft windows.
“I wondered when ye would find yer courage and come out from behind that bush, lass,” Caillen’s amused voice said behind her.
Emer did not jump. The fact that Caillen had been able to walk around her and come out from behind no longer had the power to shock. She knew he was the kind of man who could do it easily.
She stood up straight, dusted off her skirts, saying,
“Ye might have made yer presence known a little sooner, me Laird, a lady might be crouching behind the bushes for any number of reasons.”
Caillen smiled in acknowledgement of her joke, “Nae matter how pleasant it is to find ye here, lass, it would be remiss of me nae to ask ye why ye’re following me?”
Emer looked down at her dusty boots and thought hard. Then she opened her mouth to try and form the false words she was about to say.
“I got lost tryin’ to find the folly; I changed me mind and decided to visit Lachlainn instead; I cannae bear the thought of bein’ so far away from ye..., which one is it?”
It was Caillen who said the words, and Emer had to admire his perspicacity.
Goaded into a retort, Emer said, “All of what ye said is true, except the last part! It seems as though our paths have crossed, nae matter what the reason is for that, so why dinnae we just try to make the best of it?”
To her surprise, Caillen agreed.
“Ye’re right, lass, our pathshavecrossed, and it’s up to us to turn it to our advantage. What did ye have in mind to do today – seeing as it seems the folly is nae longer yer destination?”
Emer, relieved that she was finally being given the opportunity to speak the truth, replied, “I wanted to pick ingredients to make a new perfume for me sister – she does nae fancy the one I use.”
Caillen walked with Emer toward his horse, his head bent to catch her words. He was so tall, and the sounds of birds and rustling of tree branches were loud enough to drown out what Emer was saying so softly. She was touched by his courteous manner; he was happy to accept her half-hearted explanation and ready to accompany her as though they were friends of long-standing. Indeed, sometimes the thought crossed Emer’s mind that she and he had met before, not in this lifetime, perhaps, but when myths and legends walked the earth.
He stood back when they reached Menzies. Instead of mounting the tall stallion, Caillen went behind Emer, grabbed her firmly by the waist, and lifted her up into the horse’s saddle. Then he vaulted up behind her. They were so close, Emer could feel his breath on the curls on top of her head; her bonnet still sat to one side of her head after its encounter with the hedgerow.
“Dougal!” Caillen shouted as he turned Menzies to go back down the lane, “Look after the wee palfrey while we’re gone.”
An old man came out of the croft and tipped his cap as Caillen trotted away, “Aye, me Laird.”
