I was born in a small village called Dunnlauden, located near Cape Wrath on the Northwest tip of Scotland. All that you can see of the place now is a heap of rubble in the distance. That was the tower of the house of my Great Uncle, Angus McCleod.
All else are the small lines of stone foundations. Not until you’re standing directly in it, can you make out the jagged thoroughfare that cut through the centre of the village.
The last time I was there was with Sebastien on business for Cardinal Richelieu. My husband relied upon me for introductions to the Crimson Cardinal’s allies, some of whom were my own kinsmen. To say that it was awkward because I had barely seen any of my relations since my mother had died when I was very young is a supreme understatement. The mention of my mother and uncles and because my husband was French rather than English or even another Scot from a rival Clan, seemed to be enough, however. The fact that he was a Catholic and representative of France’s chief minister and could handle himself with a sword also seemed to win a few more of my recalcitrant relatives to the cause.
To be honest, I do not go there often. I really have no reason to. All of my people, my family are gone from that place after the massacre that occurred there. Those that survived were scattered to the four winds; some still living in Scotland, others shipped off to to England to work in the very halls of their conquerors. Some, like me, ended up in France and still others went to the New World.
My ties to that place other than it being the place of my birth and where my mother is buried, were broken long ago. I grew up on the Fortunate Island and spend most of my time then as now either there or in France on my husband’s ancestral lands. Part of the reason I dislike going to Scotland is that the weather in that place is probably the most miserable of any found on the Earth. The other reason I dislike it is perhaps more obvious. It’s the ghosts that now reside in that place, that keep me away. That more than anything else gives me little in the way of desire to return.