Lochlainneach

Sweet, Sweet Vitriol

Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- Mo chuilsean (mo hoosh-lehn) - my (familial) bloods (literally)

- Gèadh (gee-ahd) - goose

- Innis dhomh sa Gàidhlig (ihn-nihs yohm sah Gah-lick) - tell me in Gaelic

- Seall air an gèadh, a mhamaidh (shahl ehth ahn gee-ahd, ah vah-may) - Look at the goose, Mommy

- Amaideach (ah-my-johk) - silly

- Co-là breith sona dhut (koh-lah breyt soh-nah yoot) - happy birthday

- Deisel (gee-shehl) - ready

- Aon, dà, trì (oohn, dah, tree) - one, two, three

- Mo nighean milis (moh nee-yehn mihl-lish) - my sweet lass

- Cuist, a-huile duine (koosht, ah-hoolah doon-yah) - shut up, everyone

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16 April, 1747

Cìosamul Castle, Isle of Barra, Scotland

The one year anniversary of the Battle of Culloden finally came, and Jamie, Cailean and I were all silent about it. There were lots of people who wanted to ask us questions about what had happened, what led to it, what the Bonny Prince was like, where the Jacobite gold went (as if it were even real) and more. Young Archie, Alasdair's son, was the most curious about it and was following Cailean around trying to ask him, but Cailean had no interest in discussing it. Jamie holed himself up in our quarters with Archie and Brèagha, hoping to remain unbothered about the battle.

He didn't remember much about Culloden. He told me what little he did remember, but most of what he recalled happened after the fact. He remembered charging into battle, hearing the clanging of hundreds of swords clashing together, heard the canonfire and musketfire, smelled the gunpowder and the disrupted mud and grass - the stench of blood was also a strong scent that he recalled - but he could recall no events from the battle itself. It had lasted for just under an hour, and in that short period of time, the English had defeated the highlanders, killing somewhere between fifteen hundred and two thousand Scottish soldiers. All those who were wounded on the battlefield were killed, save for Jamie, and those numbers didn't include the thousands of Scots that were killed for 'being suspected of being rebels', but in truth, good auld Billy the Butcher simply had it out for the Scots. He was so like his ancestor, King Edward I, also known as 'the Hammer of the Scots', and was also so like his descendent, King Edward IX, who would someday murder thousands of Scots over a span of nearly forty years - probably more, now. I had no way of knowing if the rebellion was still continuing or not, but if history had anything to say, I could assume it was.

I decided to hide myself out in the garden, which was on the top floor of the castle. Most of the people who visited the garden came for herbs for the kitchens or herbs for salves and other uses, so it was relatively quiet and lonely up there. I busied myself by opening a journal I had started in the early spring, taking notes on the uses of various herbs and sketching and painting their images in watercolour. I sat before the lavender sprigs with the page that read ' Lavandula officinalis . It was an old name for lavender that was changed to Lavandula angustifolia sometime in the twentieth century, but given the fact that that was two hundred years away, I stuck with the old name. It was basically English lavender, and the most common form when one thought of lavender flowers. It also had a very calming aroma, one which my husband deeply hated but I was deeply fond of, so we both met each other in the middle when it came to our feelings towards lavender's scent. Lavender was the scent of the oil Black Jack Randall had used when he tortured and raped Jamie now three and a half years ago, but it was also a scent that I had worn as a perfume since the early days of our marriage. I suppose that memory of lavender was what made it more tolerable to him - it could remind him of something good, something happy, not just something horrific and traumatising. I could have given it up, surely, but it was also a scent that reminded me of home and of my mother, as she always smelled of lavender. Giving it up completely would mean giving up a part of her that I could always carry with me, and Jamie understood that fine.