Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing TimesMacKenna, Robert William
History
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times
MacKenna, Robert William
Adventure stories; Covenanters -- Scotland -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
We rested for a long time, and then, as the eastern sky began to break
into light, he rose to his feet and saying, "It is time to go on," he
set out again. I followed close behind him as before. He walked with
his hands clasped behind his back, his two thumbs revolving ceaselessly
round each other.
Out of the ebb of night, day rose like a goddess. Before me was beauty
unspeakable. The moorland was covered by a thin vale of mist. Here and
there, where the sun was reflected from it, it shone like silver, and
where some mischievous hill-wind had torn a rent in it, a splash of
brown heath or a tussock of purple heather broke colouringly through.
The world was waking up from its slumber. A hare, startled, sprang
along the hill-side before us--its ears acock, its body zig-zagging as
though to evade some apprehended missile. The whaups called to each
other mournfully, and, high above us, unseen, a lark poured out its soul
in sparkling song.
I was beginning to wonder when we should arrive at our destination, when
my companion turned suddenly to the left and walked downhill into the
valley. Here, for a time, we followed what had been the bed of an
ancient stream, long since dried up, until we came to a cleft between
the hills which gradually widened out into a kind of amphitheatre.
Almost for the first time since we had left our hiding-place, my
companion spoke.
"This is the trysting-place," he said. "The folk will be here ere long.
I’ll leave ye while I complete my preparations," and saying "Rest ye,"
he walked on through the amphitheatre and disappeared.
I stretched myself upon my back and drew my bonnet over my eyes. I know
not how long I lay thus, but suddenly I was conscious that someone was
standing beside me, and opening my eyes I saw the minister at my side.
"They are beginning to come," he said, as he looked out through the
cleft by which we had entered the hollow. My gaze followed his, and I
saw at some distance a man of middle age, followed by two younger men,
coming in single file towards us. My companion left me and hurried to
meet them. I saw him approach the eldest with outstretched hand which
was taken and shaken vigorously; then he greeted the two younger men,
and the four stood, a little knot in the morning light, talking
earnestly.
From glances that were cast from time to time in my direction, I knew
they were talking of me. The colloquy lasted for some time. My friend
was apparently vouching for my trustworthiness with many protestations,
for I could see him strike the palm of his left hand with his clenched
right fist. At last the minister and the elder man came towards me.
The two younger men separated, one climbing to the top of the ridge on
one side of the amphitheatre and the other ascending the slope upon its
other side.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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