“I’m not sure if I have all the fresh ingredients here, however,” she said. “I’ll have to show you the medicine garden.”
She led me down a short corridor to a most exquisite garden the likes of which I had never seen. It was a moderately sized patch full of well-tended medicinal herbs and plants of all descriptions. The most unusual thing about this garden was that it was protected on all sides by a high rock wall. At the far wall, an arched wooden door had been left open; through it, I could see the training yards far in the distance where several soldiers were practicing and discussing their moves. I could see that Wilkie was not among them. Against the west wall was a picturesque bench, as though this garden had been designed not only for the plants it grew but also for contemplation, as all good gardens were.
“Why is the garden gated, Effie?” I asked.
“We have a variety of plants here that are difficult to come by,” she explained. “We get them from throughoutScotland, England, even from as far away as the Continent. We thought it best to keep them guarded from livestock and from wind. And many of them are also quite valuable. Best to keep them walled in.”
“What a very good idea.” I thought of the Ogilvie medicine garden, which was interspersed throughout the vegetable gardens. It was true that many of the plants did not survive more than one season, due to competition with other plants or from the occasional passing sheep; they often needed to be re-sourced. To separate them out like this would likely have been far more effective in seeing plants through from year to year. This was not the first clever idea I had come across at Kinloch, where industrious invention was clearly valued and encouraged.
We picked the herbs we needed and returned to the healing quarters, where we busied ourselves for much of the day.
I was grateful for Effie’s company, which was steady and unobtrusive. For the moment, she seemed less interested in the drama surrounding me than in my knowledge of medicinal herbs, and she asked many questions about Ismay’s techniques. I wasn’t experienced enough in the methods of healing to answer many of her questions, but she was impressed by my knowledge of herbs and plants.
It was midafternoon when Christie and Ailie returned. They sat on stools, watching as I prepared a fresh pot of willowbark tea for the evening, in case Wilkie’s aches were paining him. The sisters relayed their progress in preparing menus and guest chambers.
There was one detail Christie had mentioned earlierthat I couldn’t help but ask about. “Does Wilkie train every day?”
“Oh, aye,” said Christie.
“He trains every day that his innards aren’t threatening to spill,” clarified Ailie. “Besides, ’tis not long ’til wars will be fought.”
“Which wars?” I asked.
“Ossian Lochs. The situation has not improved, and in fact grows more explosive by the day.”
“Clan Stuart’s lands?” I asked, recalling Ogilvie’s mention of it, and the Mackenzies had mentioned it in passing, as well.
“Aye,” said Christie. “King William’s lands. The grandest keep in the Highlands. The king’s landholders maintain the keep, and it was hoped that his wife Mary would produce an heir. She has had difficulties.”
I knew some of the details of the situation, and the sisters seemed willing to discuss the topic freely with me. “So there’s no heir to claim it.”
“Not by Mary,” continued Ailie. “And she is now past childbearing. But the king has a public mistress, and he also, many years ago, had a secret one. The public mistress bore him no children, either. But his secret mistress, whose name is not known,didbear him a child. An heir. A product of the king himself. Ossian Lochs will become his, as soon as his whereabouts can be traced. ’Tis his birthright.”
“Even if he was born out of wedlock?” I asked.
“In this case, aye. The king has decreed it. ’Tis his only child, and he has dictated that the child will inherit the estate. But the child remains elusive. The king has scouts searching throughout the whole of Scotland, England and across Europe. They’ve yet to find him.”
“Why was the child hidden?”
The sisters indulged my questions patiently and willingly; I could sense that they were intrigued by me and eager to engage me in conversation. “Queen Mary, it seems,” said Christie, “was wickedly jealous. She asked her husband to give up his mistresses, and he obliged her—partly. He ended his relationship with Elizabeth. But he continued to see his secret mistress. Mary had spies who revealed that the king continued his relationship with the second, secret mistress. Mary was outraged. She ordered her guards to kill the child and the mistress. The mistress was able to hide the child and was killed soon after. ’Tis a tragic ending. But the child is believed to have escaped.”
Ailie said, “But the child’s whereabouts remain unknown. Campbell believes that the child is dead, and that rights to Ossian Lochs should be forfeited instead, to him.”
“Is it not true?” I asked.
Ailie continued. “There’s no proof that the child is dead. The king believes him to be alive, and so does Knox.”
“Has anyone ever seen him?”
“I don’t know how they would identify him, even if they had,” commented Christie. “The king is wary of imposters, so hasn’t divulged the child’s identifying features. Several people have confronted King William with one lost child or another, claiming to present the son of the king. But he has confirmed each time that those children are not his son.”
I tried to recall Ogilvie’s discussions but couldn’t remember the finer details. “Why is it that Campbell feels entitled to Ossian Lochs?”
“King William’s sister married the laird of the Campbell clan many years ago, and bore a son to him. She died in childbirth. Laird Campbell felt that his son was the rightful heir to Ossian Lochs, as the king’s nephew. He refused the king’s decree that the missing child should claim the lands, since the child is illegitimate issue. In most circumstances, that would mean he has no birthright to claim the land.”
“So the Mackenzie army will fight to stop Campbell from claiming Ossian Lochs,” I said, making sure I understood.
Ailie nodded. “Our father led the battle to overthrow the rebellion. It was he who killed the elder Laird Campbell, but not before he was fatally wounded in the fight. Our father lost his life in that battle. And now the king’s nephew is old enough to renew the rebellion, to attempt to gain the land for himself and to avenge his father’s death. Our brothers fight because Ossian Lochs are not the nephew’s lands to claim. The king himself decreed it. Our brothers fight for the king of Scotland. And they fight so that our father did not die in vain.”
