High on a Mountain Read Free Page B

the herd, and Ailean circled around the cattle to his father’s
side.
    “Da, that old cow brought me some trouble
today. With Latharn Cambeul.”
    His father glanced at him. “How so?”
    “She wandered onto their range. He and
another man came along when I was trying to get her moving, and he
accused me of trespassing. He called me a liar and a cattle
thief.”
    Aodh turned to face him. “And did you demand
an apology for the insult?”
    “No.”
    “And why not?”
    Ailean looked away, unable to meet Da’s
piercing stare. “I was without my sword.”
    “You were without your sword?”
    Ailean didn’t answer.
    “Sometimes, Ailean, I despair of you ever
learning to do the right thing.” He took a deep breath, released it
in a disgusted sigh. Aodh emphasized each word as he said, “What
have I told you, again and again.”
    Ailean ducked his head, fixed his gaze on the
grass at his feet and repeated his father’s directive. “‘Always be
armed, always be prepared for trouble if it comes, but don’t make
trouble.’”
    “That’s right. Remember that. Don’t ever go about without your sword again.”
    Ailean stood, stiff and unable to move,
embarrassment and frustration, like twin spikes, fastened him to
the spot. He had disappointed Da again. His impatience and
disobedience cost him more of Da’s respect.
    “Where is it?” Aodh asked.
    “What?”
    “Your sword.”
    “In the hut.”
    “Put it on. Now! ”
    ____________
     
    When the men finished sorting and separating
the cattle, they left the ones they intended to drive to market at
the airigh and drove the ones they would keep down to the
croft. Ailean slipped away from the herd when it passed the trail
to his favorite place, a nearby mountain peak.
    He loved his homeland. Scotland claimed his
heart, but her mountains filled his soul. Happiness and sadness
alike elicited a single response from Ailean: go to the mountaintop
to think things through.
    Sometimes, he settled himself on an
outcropping of rock near the top of the mountain and surveyed the
land below like a king on his throne. But on this day, he had
disappointed Da again and embarrassed himself through his impetuous
behavior. The rock became a gibbet for displaying him in his shame
for all the world to see. He sighed and took his accustomed
seat.
    As he viewed the panorama spread before him,
the late afternoon sun changed its hue. The rays of light bathed
the glens and hills below, and Loch Fyne beyond, with golden light,
enriching all they touched. The rude stone dwellings of the croft,
with their thatched roofs, looked warm and peaceful. The furrows of
the mown fields drew lines of light and shadow across the
smooth-looking yellow stubble in satisfying uniformity.
    The serenity of the landscape soothed Ailean.
His mistakes didn’t appear so dire when seen against the vastness
of the beautiful scenery. The feeling of humiliation he suffered at
Latharn’s hands diminished, and his frustration over his failure to
live up to Da’s expectations faded in the warm glow. His spirits
lifted a little, and his natural optimism began to reassert
itself.
    He daydreamed again about his future life. He
pictured himself as the hero of adventurous exploits, a respected
and celebrated warrior of the clan. He lost himself in his exciting
inner world, one in which he made no mistakes. A world where
everyone in the clan respected him and spoke his name with awe.
    Sometimes, he daydreamed about following in
his father’s footsteps. Yes, he would be a farmer, like Da. Of
course, that would come later in life, after he had established
himself as a larger-than-life hero, braver than the bravest of men.
He would have a beautiful, strong wife, the envy of his clansmen.
And she would bear him a houseful of virile, handsome sons to
follow in his own footsteps.
    Ailean smiled as the visions of his future
took shape in his mind. His chest expanded, and he drew his
shoulders back, raised his head in an attitude of