Page 11 of A Promise Through Time

Donal was startled at the man’s angry tone. He turned to give him his full attention, “Aye,” he answered. He looked from the man to the woman and back not recognizing these people.

“We’ve something for ye,” he said, motioning to the woman who was carrying something.

“For me?” What could it be? He hoped it was something good.

“Aye. ’Tis yers,” the man practically hissed at him.

The woman raised a plaid wrapped package with shaky arms and placed it into his hands. As soon as she did, it began to wriggle and shriek.

“What’s this?” he asked, a look of horror on his face.

Bethia peeked into the blankets.

“’Tis a bairn,” she said. The look she gave him was one he would never forget. Shock and something else rested there. Accusation.

“Why do ye give me yer bairn?” he stuttered out.

“She’s yers,” the woman said, her voice choked with tears.

“I dinnae understand. I have nae child.” These people were daft.

“Ye do now,” the old man said. He motioned to his wife and they began to walk away.

He glanced at Bethia, who was shaking her head in apparent disbelief. She picked up her bucket and turned away from him.

“Bethia. Dinnae leave. The bairn isnae mine.” He scrambled after the couple. “Wait. Take her back. She isnae mine.”

The man turned and pointed a crooked finger at Donal’s chest, “Ye soiled our daughter,” he yelled and all of Donal’s blood drained from his body. He was suddenly very cold and very still. “And now that she’s gone…” he stopped and clenched his jawfor moment before continuing, “we cannae care for this wee one. Yer her Da. ’Tis yer duty to care for her.”

“Gone?” He looked to the old woman, but she would not meet his eyes. “Is she dead?” he asked.

“Aye, the fever took her from us.” The fight had gone out of the man and somehow, he looked even older than he did before. “She hadnae been well since the birth. We held out hope she would regain her strength, but then she fell ill. We dinnae have the means to care for the child. She’s yers now.” He turned and started walking away again.

Donal watched him take a few steps, his mind racing and he realized, he didn’t know who the man was talking about. “Wait. I dinnae ken who yer daughter is. Please tell me.” He hadn’t been so panicked at any point in his life, even in the heat of battle.

“Her name was Sionaid. Sionaid MacGregor.”

The woman wept silently as they marched away from him. He watched them head toward the gate and just stood there. The child had stopped shrieking at some point and he looked at her to try and make sense of this.

“Sionaid.” Blast his faulty memory.

“Do ye nae remember her?” Bethia asked.

He didn’t know when she had walked up beside him, but she’d obviously heard enough of the man’s story to know what happened. “Nae. I dinnae.”

“Shame on ye. Ye lout.” He looked up at her suddenly and saw sparks of anger glowing in her eyes. “She was one of the kitchen maids.”

“When?” This couldn’t be happening to him. They must be mistaken. Maybe if he hurried he could catch them and give the bairn back.

“She hasnae been here for well over a year.” She took her bucket and began to walk away from him.

“Will I see ye at the postern gate?” he asked, knowing deep in his heart what the answer would be.

She turned on her heel and came back, one finger poking him right in the chest, “Ye are a daft fool if ye think that I, or any lass here would ever meet ye again.” She turned back and was soon out of sight. He hurried towards the gates, his eyes scanning the many people going about their daily chores, coming and going through the gate. He couldn’t find them.

He approached the guard, “The people who were looking for me, where did they go?”

“They got in their wagon and left. I wouldnae have thought their old nag would go that fast, but they were certainly in a hurry,” he answered. The bairn wiggled and nearly fell out of his arms. “What have ye there, Donal? The fruits of yer labor?” The man chuckled and Donal vowed that once he had this straightened out he’d be back to land a solid blow to the guard’s protruding nose.