The cursed towers 285
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him. All were dressed in their kilts with their badges pinning up their plaids. The town's laird was there,
rather flus-tered to be in such grand company, while a young jongleur with a crimson cap regaled them all
with song and jests, his black eyes sparkling. The Righ's own bodyguard rode with them, dressed in blue,
and the children's eyes opened wide to see a great bear lumbering along behind one of the Yeomen and a
lean black wolf loping at the heels of one of the prionnsachan's horses.
Then a little flutter of excitement ran over the crowd, for in a barouche pulled by two white horses were
the three elderly members of the council of sorcerers and the little prionnsa, his wings fluttering as he
sought to soar out of the arms of his nursemaid. The crowd threw flowers to him and he waved back,
grinning happily.
Another barouche followed and the crowd muttered in amazement, for it was filled with faeries. There
was a girl with long, leafy hair, a furry cluricaun all dressed up in velvet, a snow-haired Celestine with a
little child perched on her lap, and a corrigan, looking rather like a mossy boulder with one curious eye.
A bright-winged little nisse darted all about the open carriage, shrieking with laughter. First she pulled the
tail of one of the horses, then she hung from the whip of the driver so she was flung around as he cracked
it. The watching children squealed with delight and she darted over to tweak their noses and pull their
hair, causing them to laugh even louder.
The procession reached the tall, white boundary stone and came to a halt. The Righ dismounted and
called to the laird with a laugh. "Come, man, whip away! Never let it be said Lachlan MacCuinn was
slow to be reminded o' his responsibilities!"
He was dressed only in a kilt and plaid, his chest bare. As he spoke, he drew the plaid down so it hung
around his waist. His shoulders and arms were marked all over with red slashes.
The laird dismounted rather reluctantly. "Are ye sure, Your Highness?" he asked anxiously. "It has been
many years since we had the Common Ridings. I do no' wish to offer any disrespect ..."
"Whip away, my laird," Lachlan replied cheerfully. "Indeed, if I am to bring back all the auld rites and
customs, I canna no' bring back the only one that hurts me and no' your pocket. My shoulders are broad;
I can stand it, I swear."
The laird smiled ruefully. "As ye wish, Your Highness." He raised his riding crop and slashed the
boundary stone three times, then brought the crop down hard on the Righ's bare shoulder.
"Cursed be any man who forgets the bounds o' the land, be he bondsman, laird or Righ," Lachlan cried.
"By my blood, I swear always to respect the rights o' the people o' this county. With thanks I accept their
Lammas tithe and promise to protect them as I would my own child. For as I am your Righ I am as your
father, duty bound to honor and shield ye."
There was a roar of approval from the crowd as Lach-lan stood back from the boundary stone. Three of
the prettiest young lasses of the county then came shyly and proudly through the crowd, their hair all
bound up with corn and flowers. One carried water and a cloth to tend his lacerated back, another a
flask of whiskey for him to swallow, and the third a little doll made from corn sheaves and tied up with
flowers. The Righ drank down the whiskey with a wink and a jest, then gravely accepted the Corn Bairn
and anointed its forehead with a little circle drawn with his own blood. They washed his weals and he
rather gingerly arranged his plaid over his shoulder again.
Then Meghan stepped down from her carriage and solemnly blessed the bread and apples and winter
wheat brought to her by the children of the county, making Ea's sign over their heads with a sorrowful
smile. Gita allowed them to pat his silky brown fur and then the old sorceress climbed stiffly back into the
barouche, having to lean heavily on her staff.
