Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce: Part 2; Chapter 1.9

                                                                                     IX

Orkney

October 1307

Bumping along in a cart, Aodh sat on the bench beside Hlodvis and Svein, the sturdy sons of Sigurd Grutgar. They were making their way over the high ground to the peat bogs. The boys had begun to mix as the Grutgar longhouse - on the left hand side of the bay facing the sea, was within walking distance of Skaill House. On the opposite arm of the bay, the Hammerclett longhouse lay nestled within the mounds. After almost a year on Orkney, Aodh was fluent in Norn though on occasions missed the fine nuances of the local dialect. The lads chatted about the night ahead and the feast to celebrate Hallowmass, when spirits walked their halls.

Today, their task was to gather dry peat, cut and stacked in summer, before the onslaught of winter tempests. The old horse pulling the wagon was used to the heavy load. From under fringed, woollen hoods, heavy and damp from a fine mizzle, the boys looked out, searching for old bushes of heath for the bonfire. As they pulled and twisted dead plants from their roots, the lads piled them in and around the rectangular pieces of brown peat, the rotted earth which could be burnt for fuel. The lads explained to Aodh that it had been one of the early Vikings – Einar, 'the turf cutter' – who reached the masterly conclusion that peat could be used for fuel. In the drier months of a cool summer, Einar and his warriors had slept around a fire. The following morning, the ground itself continued to smoke and burn. Such a discovery was indeed momentous for the fuel-scarce isles.

Sometimes, the lads came across the long runs of voles in the moorland grass and startled the small creatures into making a run to safety. High overhead, birds of prey, elegant hen harriers, made opportunistic swoops and dives upon the furred animals, crushing them with their claws as they took flight. Aodh took an interest in the land around him and relished the different varieties of animals and birds he saw along the way.

The role of preparing for Hallowmass, one of the great fire festivals held on the last day of October, fell to the boys of the district. Once the cartload of peat had been delivered and stored undercover at the back of Skaill House, the lads took the cart up to the headland. Here, the bushes and leftover peat were stacked into a massive pile. For weeks beforehand they had been gathering fuel and now the stacked tinder was thrice their height.

Grey light melted into the bruised purple of dusk. Darkness settled over the land. Carrying swaying lanterns, family groups from across the hills and fields beyond the loch began to filter along the paths and roads. This time the festival was to be marked at the home of the Grutgar family. There would be music, dancing and much drinking late into the night. The Bruce women were attending their first local event. After living on Orkney now for over a year, they had grown close to their quiet, thoughtful neighbours.

The peculiar, shy silence between them was broken one summer's day. Margaret had been gathering clothes from the drying line when a strong gust whipped them from her hands. Sailing across the fields like errant clouds, they dropped, as the wind slumped, at the feet of the young farm lads who were busy planting a crop. Surprising even herself, the youngest Bruce sister leapt onto the low stone boundary fence, only to fall headfirst with heavy skirts asunder into a sodden runnel. In the end, she trudged across the field, arriving with a minimum of grace, mud-spattered from head to foot and with an odd clump of spindly grass clinging to her neck.

The capricious breeze sprang to life. It flipped a pair of linen clouts, Svein had bent to pick up, out of his grasp. The garment flew off to be caught on a corner of the protruding smoke vent atop the Grutgar's longhouse, fluttering like some jaunty standard. The lads' father was witnessed scratching his head before taking a long hay fork leaning against the side of the building, to poke at the offending piece of intimate attire. It refused to cooperate and vacate its post. Amongst those watching, deep-throated chuckles turned to laughter and then to piercing shrieks.