The Last Sunset by Atkinson Bob

Author:Atkinson, Bob [Atkinson, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greyhart Press
Published: 2012-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Since their return from the graveyard the newcomers had been left to their own devices while the women of Meall An Fhraoich prepared the burial feast. As the afternoon wore on, smoke streamed through the thatch of each cottage in the settlement, the gentle reek of burning peat blending with other smells, as every cauldron and pot was pressed into service.

As the setting sun began to spread an eerie stain across the western horizon, the clachan filled with mourners who had made their various ways back from the cemetery. Eventually the entire population of the glen seemed to be milling around the surviving cottages of the township. The mood of the people had grown a little lighter, some of their grief perhaps buried with their loved ones.

“Don’t recognise too many of this lot,” Andy whispered from the doorway of the barn they occupied.

“Yeah. We’d all feel a little safer if Achnacon was here.”

“It’s no’ Achnacon he’s looking out for,” grinned Jamie.

“I’m looking forward to meeting this Ishbel,” Shawnee put in. “I’m sure she’s really pretty.”

“Y’know she could be one of your ancestors, don’t yuh?” said Sam.

“Yeah. Hey, Andy, I could turn out to be your great, great, great, granddaughter.”

“Was your old man one of us, then?” asked Fergie.

“My dad? No… His grandpa was though; old Donald Cameron. Came from Glen Laragain originally. Emigrated to the States ’way back in nineteen twelve. Apparently he had what they called ‘the sight’. The story was he’d originally booked passage on The Titanic, but cancelled two days before he was due to leave. It’s the usual story; he had a dream, people drowning, the ship going under… y’know?”

Rae had taken to sniffing the air like a scavenger searching out a rotting carcass. “Ah’m starving tae death here. Ah wonder when we’re gonnae get some grub.”

As the last shreds of daylight disappeared from the sky the little clachan faded into deepening shadows. The glow from the open doors and windows grew correspondingly brighter and more precious against the immensity of darkness that surrounded them. As the first stars appeared two of the women prepared fires between the cottages. Fuelled by the ubiquitous peat, they too began to pierce the darkness, like beacons lit in response to those distant points of light.

Wooden frames were erected over two of the fires, and soon the carcasses of a sheep and a calf were rotating slowly on hand-operated spits. Before long the odour of barbecued meat was added to the array of smells drifting from each of the cottages.

Rae was drawn to the larger of the two spits, where he stood like a salivating dog. The attendant cailleach kept him at bay with a stream of warnings and oaths, clearly enjoying the power she had over the stranger. Only when she’d tired of the game did she let him off the leash. Rae snatched the lump of roasted meat he was offered and slunk off into the shadows before the old harridan changed her mind.

Sam, Shawnee and the three soldiers claimed one of the little campfires as their own, using slabs of stone as seats.

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