Dunvegan, MacLeod clan,
Summer, 1593.
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"Isabella!". The voice cut through the stillness in the surrounding air like the piercing tune of a bag-pipe.
Isabella MacDonald sighed as she wiped her hands clean on the piece of cloth tied around her waist before placing the dough she had been kneading for another lot of apple tarts in a bowl and covering it. At this rate, she would ne'er be able to finish baking the tarts in time.
Good God! How many more interventions would be there?!
She checked the oven's temperature once again ere hurrying to the front door. Unlatching it, she peered outside. A petite, young lass with a jumble of wheat gold hair stood outside, hands on her hips as she impatiently tapped the ground with her feet.
Isabella found herself beaming as she opened the door all the way and stepped out to greet her. "Muriel! Yer back!". And found herself enveloped in a fierce hug and couldn't help but hug back.
"Aye. I missed ye Bella!". Muriel said as she let Isabella go.
Isabella grinned. "Ye wenae supposed to be back until next sennight. What happened?".
Muriel's face broke into a full blown smile. "Och alot! I cannae wait to tell ye! ". She squinted her eyes heavenwards. "But nay here. 'Tis so verra sunny, I fear I might swoon".
Isabella shook her head. "Ye havenae changed at all now have ye?. Come we'll sit under the apple grove. 'Tis verra pleasant there".
Muriel looped her arm around Isabella as they made their way there.
" I so verra like yer garden ye know. 'Tis really a shame that ye dinna own the land".
Isabella sighed. "Aye a shame that. I could have planted so many other herbs...". She shook her head. "There isnae any use in dwelling on the unattainable. It only serves to give me false hopes".
They reached the garden Isabella had planted herself when she had started living in Dunvegan. Except for the tall, sturdy apple tree blooming full with crimson, ripe apples, she had planted them all. And thus, most of them were mere saplings.
Muriel glowered. "All because that bastard of a landlord doesnae wants to sell ye the land". She gently sat on the bench beneath the apple tree on reaching. "All fer what? I ken that he would have torn this place down if ye hadnae arrived ".
Isabella shrugged. "I dinna ken".
She joined Muriel on the bench. "Perchance he didnae really want to rent the place, 'twas but a moment's weakness".
Muriel seemed to ponder something ere continuing. "Nay. That isnae all. Methinks 'tis because of yer garden. He seeks to keep the garden fer himself, and would be all to happy to get ye oot of the way".
Isabella frowned. "Ye think that to be the reason he has been pestering me to give more silvers for rent?".
Muriel's eyes widened. "He has! Oh God. I kenned something was amiss. What did ye say?".
"I gave him what he wanted". At Muriel's disapproving glare, she shrugged. "Ye ken I have nowhere to go should he kick me oot. 'Tis better to nay anger him. Especially if he is really after the garden as ye say ".
"What bullshit". Muriel crossed her arms over her chest and peered at Isabella sideways. "Why dinna ye take the matter to Duncan? ".
Isabella shook her head. "Nay, I canae he already has much to deal with after his brother, John died".
Muriel opened her mouth to disagree but Isabella beat her to it. "Aye I ken 'twas only natural fer him to see to the clan matters as John's firstborn is nay here but that doesnae make it any less burdensome".
Muriel sighed dramatically. "Aye, I suppose yer right but ye 'are' a part of this clan and as such, 'tis his duty to see to yer problems as weel".
Isabella smiled at her thoughtfulness. Muriel was a true friend, her concern for Isabella's wellbeing genuine. She hadn't known that she'd find such a confidant in Muriel despite of Muriel being the daughter of the previous laird's second in command.
When Isabella had fled MacDonald clan, she hadn't known that she'd end up here, at clan MacLeod of all places, the very clan at which King James himself wanted to marry the MacDonald chief's daughter to end the seemingly unending feud between The MacLeods and MacDonalds.
She had laughed at the irony. Then she had pondered what would happen if the MacLeod chief found out that one of his enemy's daughter- greatest one at that - was in his lands. She had worried whether she'd be alive long enough for her father to come to her rescue should the worse happen. But that worry vanished when she had recalled what plan her father had devised for preventing the marriage between MacLeods and MacDonalds. She had then at once decided that she'd rather dwell on enemy lands than marry her father's first-in-command who was at least thrice her age.
A hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her train of thoughts. Muriel gave her a shake. "Are ye even listening?"
Isabella blinked. "Aye".
Muriel frowned. "Then tell me, how did I ended up falling right into Lord Suthtun's arms?".
Isabella's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Nay! However did that happen?"
"I kenned ye werenae listening". Muriel said, with a roll of her azure eyes.
"Apologies". Isabella muttered. "Now speak ".
Muriel flashed her a crystal white smile ere jumping right into narrating.
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'Twas much later when Muriel finished her tale and Isabella remembered about her apple tarts. Muriel insisted on helping and together, they stuffed the dough Isabella had prepared and baked them.
Muriel squealed much like a piglet as Isabella took the last of tarts out of the earthen oven.
"Oh my lord Bella! Ye must let me have some".
Isabella chuckled. "Of course ye nutcake, I have baked enough fer ye to eat and-- ". She gestured to the fading sunlight through the window "--take some home with ye"
Muriel hugged her friend in excitement. "Thank ye. Ma and pa would be delighted!".
"Give them my regards".
"Aye aye". Muriel bobbed her head. She eyed the other tarts resting on the rack. "Whose are these fer?"
Isabella answered as she used a wet rag to cool the oven's interior. "These are fer Duncan. Ye ken how he pesters me fer these".
"Aye". Muriel grinned. "Och yer tarts seem to have cast a spell on him.. nay, every villager who has eaten it in fact".
Isabella grinned back. "Ye flatter me".
She picked up the remaining tarts after cooling the oven enough and put them inside. "There. That will keep them warm till the morrow". She closed the lid and stepped away from the oven.
After that, the two of them ate together, o'er some of more Muriel's tales. Isabella then nearly bundled up the other tarts in a small piece of cloth and placed it in a small basket.
Muriel took her leave with promises to see her again on the morrow.
And Isabella returned to her other chores with a smile.
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