A Seventeenth Century Tale

Set below the sheer, black face of the Notched Ridge the building appeared from a distance an impudent speck on the towering hostility of nature. The mountain filled the horizon in a solid wall of impenetrable strength. The enormous face dwarfing the sky, stretching impossibly upwards, westwards, eastwards, the Notched Ridge faced five mountains; the Three Sisters and the Great and Little Herdsmen. The shadow of the ridge covered the glen. The ridge had stood there for five hundred million years, covered in lava, which had eroded through centuries of ice, wind and rain. As the ice melted hundreds of little streams and waterfalls had cascaded down the glen. Plant life took root: ling, bell-heather, mat-grass, birch and Scots pine. With the vegetation came a multitude of birds, animals abounded. All had taken shelter but one.A miniscule figure knelt some fifty yards from the building, head tilted back surveying the gathering snow clouds. The figure was a woman her eyes softly watching the clouds melt the harsh razor edge above. Her hair hung drenched curled down her back and long matted strands revealed small ears and an oval face. She was barely clad. Her heels tucked under her red thighs. Her only garment, the Arisaid, covered her from below the neck to just below the waist. Her neck wet and cold, yet flushed, was exposed to the sky and her body trembled with the chill. The Arisaid was soaked, the black and white check pasted to her skin. Her stomach fluttered as she slowly picked her way, barefoot towards the house clutching her garment against her.Inside the house an old man was sitting. Standing he would have to stoop, not because the house was cramped but because the whole upper layer of the room was filled with smoke from the peat fire in the middle of the floor. The floor consisted of nothing, simply earth beaten flat by the weight of feet of both man and beast. It was uncovered and was cool to touch. Towards the middle of the floor, near the fire, the earth was warm and although dark it was dry. The interior was split into three areas, one for living, one for sleeping and one for beasts. The beasts were black cattle huddled together for heat. They fed and urinated where they stood, separated from the main living area by an old plaid strung between two walls. There were no windows. The walls were six feet thick and of grey boulders gathered from the surrounding moor. The core of the walls was filled with earth. Water ran down the beams and thatch of the roof and drained through the walls leaving only the smell of dampness. In the corner of the area where the beasts were kept was a pile of manure, which mixed with the urine the damp and the peat provided a sharp smell. The old man welcomed the heat of the beasts along with that of the fire. The warmth inside in comparison with the climate outdoors compensated for the unpleasant smell. It was into this warmth the woman crawled. With her entrance came an enveloping aura of chill air. The old man knew she had entered although she had entered silently. Inside was extremely dark. The glow from the fire was insufficient to light the room. The woman removed her plaid and laid the cloth on the earth next to the fire. Naked, she shivered as she moved to the sleeping area. She was about twenty years old. Her eyes were bright and intelligent. She returned her nudity concealed by a woollen hose. She built the fire and lighting a candle the room flickered into view. In one corner were sacks of oats, corn, kale, salted mutton and a large barrel containing a raw dark fluid. Beside there were a number of wooden bowls, metal spoons and a dirk. The woman filled two bowls with meal and lifting the dirk slipped under the cloth partition and steadied the nearest beast. Opening a vein on the leg of the nearest cow she allowed the hot dark liquid to trickle between her fingers onto the meal. The old man could smell the blood.The woman ducked back under the plaid and mixing the meal and blood handed a bowl to the old man. She sat next to him and quickly spooSet below the sheer, black face of the Notched Ridge the building appeared from a distance an impudent speck on the towering hostility of nature. The mountain filled the horizon in a solid wall of impenetrable strength. The enormous face dwarfing the sky, stretching impossibly upwards, westwards, eastwards, the Notched Ridge faced five mountains; the Three Sisters and the Great and Little Herdsmen. The shadow of the ridge covered the glen. The ridge had stood there for five hundred million years, covered in lava, which had eroded through centuries of ice, wind and rain. As the ice melted hundreds of little streams and waterfalls had cascaded down the glen. Plant life took root: ling, bell-heather, mat-grass, birch and Scots pine. With the vegetation came a multitude of birds, animals abounded. All had taken shelter but one.A miniscule figure knelt some fifty yards from the building, head tilted back surveying the gathering snow clouds. The figure was a woman her eyes softly watching the clouds melt the harsh razor edge above. Her hair hung drenched curled down her back and long matted strands revealed small ears and an oval face. She was barely clad. Her heels tucked under her red thighs. Her only garment, the Arisaid, covered her from below the neck to just below the waist. Her neck wet and cold, yet flushed, was exposed to the sky and her body trembled with the chill. The Arisaid was soaked, the black and white check pasted to her skin. Her stomach fluttered as she slowly picked her way, barefoot towards the house clutching her garment against her.Inside the house an old man was sitting. Standing he would have to stoop, not because the house was cramped but because the whole upper layer of the room was filled with smoke from the peat fire in the middle of the floor. The floor consisted of nothing, simply earth beaten flat by the weight of feet of both man and beast. It was uncovered and was cool to touch. Towards the middle of the floor, near the fire, the earth was warm and although dark it was dry. The interior was split into three areas, one for living, one for sleeping and one for beasts. The beasts were black cattle huddled together for heat. They fed and urinated where they stood, separated from the main living area by an old plaid strung between two walls. There were no windows. The walls were six feet thick and of grey boulders gathered from the surrounding moor. The core of the walls was filled with earth. Water ran down the beams and thatch of the roof and drained through the walls leaving only the smell of dampness. In the corner of the area where the beasts were kept was a pile of manure, which mixed with the urine the damp and the peat provided a sharp smell. The old man welcomed the heat of the beasts along with that of the fire. The warmth inside in comparison with the climate outdoors compensated for the unpleasant smell. It was into this warmth the woman crawled. With her entrance came an enveloping aura of chill air. The old man knew she had entered although she had entered silently. Inside was extremely dark. The glow from the fire was insufficient to light the room. The woman removed her plaid and laid the cloth on the earth next to the fire. Naked, she shivered as she moved to the sleeping area. She was about twenty years old. Her eyes were bright and intelligent. She returned her nudity concealed by a woollen hose. She built the fire and lighting a candle the room flickered into view. In one corner were sacks of oats, corn, kale, salted mutton and a large barrel containing a raw dark fluid. Beside there were a number of wooden bowls, metal spoons and a dirk. The woman filled two bowls with meal and lifting the dirk slipped under the cloth partition and steadied the nearest beast. Opening a vein on the leg of the nearest cow she allowed the hot dark liquid to trickle between her fingers onto the meal. The old man could smell the blood.The woman ducked back under the plaid and mixing the meal and blood handed a bowl to the old man. She sat next to him and quickly spooned her own portion down. The meal was hot and the goodness of it brought warmth to her stomach. Her hunger sated, the heat make her drowsy. Outside darkness came. 'I think I'll sleep,' she whispered.The old man chewed on his meal.'Grandfather?''Donal Du,' the old man stated.The woman rose irritated. ' I'm off to sleep,' she muttered as she moved to the other room.'Leitis,' the old man said gently. 'Smoor the fire and put the candle out.'She knelt and covered the fire with ashes. On top of the ashes she placed her soaked Arisaid to dry overnight. Lifting the candle she moved to the other room and lay on a mattress of heather. Alone her tears flowed. She did not sob but lay quietly weeping. She wept, her bright dark eyes sparkling unseen, the tears releasing a still pain . She lay immobile.Outside her stillness was echoed by the night. The snow fell gently, as silently as the tears of Leitis. Dropping slowly, blindly through the blackness, each flake descended precisely, with care, to alight in perfect silence turning the world pristine white. It fell continuously, each icy flake adding its weight to the whole. On and On flake after flake spun, unheard downwards through the chill black night. The darkness of the glen was as impenetrable as the mountain. Darkness so complete it was impossible to see an inch beyond the eye. No wind stirred, no noise reached the house. The river that coursed through the glen spoke only to the night. Here too, snowflakes stole downwards melting and vanishing as they slipped below the uppermost layer of the water, some landed delicately on boulders midstream, forming caps of white; more sank into the inky dark freezing water: still more fell further up the glen shrouding thatch and tree with a white breath. Unmoving Donal Du sensed the snow, sensed the change in the air. Then it stopped. The quiet was as piercing as the cold. Donal Du rose knowing the fall was over for the night. He settled in his cot and listened, Leitis asleep on her own bed, released whispers of breath. The breathing was accompanied by another sound. Faint at first, as if each flake of snow had begun to softly whistle. The noise rose to a tortured inhuman howling, drowning any human voice. Donal Du knew the sound was more than the wind. His eyes open he drifted into a deep sleep. Nonetheless the wind continued to blow. It froze the snow to fir and boulder, setting huge sheets on the face of the Notched Ridge. The snow crusted along the edge of the Loch of Three waters, icy fingers stealing out into calm little shallow pools at the water's edge. The temperature of the entire valley dropped as the gigantic Notched Ridge froze a blinding white. Not a single footstep marred the pure white sheet for miles. From the burn of the Bog past the Three Waters, past the three sisters down the edge of the Loch, across the river, over the Field of Dogs and beyond to the Field of Cairns, not a living thing disturbed the virgin snow. As the sun rose all the eye could see was laden in white.ned her own portion down. The meal was hot and the goodness of it brought warmth to her stomach. Her hunger sated, the heat make her drowsy. Outside darkness came. 'I think I'll sleep,' she whispered.The old man chewed on his meal.'Grandfather?''Donal Du,' the old man stated.The woman rose irritated. ' I'm off to sleep,' she muttered as she moved to the other room.'Leitis,' the old man said gently. 'Smoor the fire and put the candle out.'She knelt and covered the fire with ashes. On top of the ashes she placed her soaked Arisaid to dry overnight. Lifting the candle she moved to the other room and lay on a mattress of heather. Alone her tears flowed. She did not sob but lay quietly weeping. She wept, her bright dark eyes sparkling unseen, the tears releasing a still pain . She lay immobile.Outside her stillness was echoed by the night. The snow fell gently, as silently as the tears of Leitis. Dropping slowly, blindly through the blackness, each flake descended precisely, with care, to alight in perfect silence turning the world pristine white. It fell continuously, each icy flake adding its weight to the whole. On and On flake after flake spun, unheard downwards through the chill black night. The darkness of the glen was as impenetrable as the mountain. Darkness so complete it was impossible to see an inch beyond the eye. No wind stirred, no noise reached the house. The river that coursed through the glen spoke only to the night. Here too, snowflakes stole downwards melting and vanishing as they slipped below the uppermost layer of the water, some landed delicately on boulders midstream, forming caps of white; more sank into the inky dark freezing water: still more fell further up the glen shrouding thatch and tree with a white breath. Unmoving Donal Du sensed the snow, sensed the change in the air. Then it stopped. The quiet was as piercing as the cold. Donal Du rose knowing the fall was over for the night. He settled in his cot and listened, Leitis asleep on her own bed, released whispers of breath. The breathing was accompanied by another sound. Faint at first, as if each flake of snow had begun to softly whistle. The noise rose to a tortured inhuman howling, drowning any human voice. Donal Du knew the sound was more than the wind. His eyes open he drifted into a deep sleep. Nonetheless the wind continued to blow. It froze the snow to fir and boulder, setting huge sheets on the face of the Notched Ridge. The snow crusted along the edge of the Loch of Three waters, icy fingers stealing out into calm little shallow pools at the water's edge. The temperature of the entire valley dropped as the gigantic Notched Ridge froze a blinding white. Not a single footstep marred the pure white sheet for miles. From the burn of the Bog past the Three Waters, past the three sisters down the edge of the Loch, across the river, over the Field of Dogs and beyond to the Field of Cairns, not a living thing disturbed the virgin snow. As the sun rose all the eye could see was laden in white.