THE BOOK OF WONDERS

4th August, 1914

The hay was cut, turned once, turned again, and lay under a clear sky. Unless the weather broke - which it showed no sign of doing - the hay would be gathered and stacked in a couple of days. That meant at least two afternoons of glorious freedom for the two girls skipping lightly over the heather towards the cliffs at the north end of Marabay. Although only ten and nine respectively, they were tall for their age with a coltish spring in their bare legs and feet, fueled by a diet of oatmeal, barley bread, and plentiful fish, milk and cream. Rhubarb jam was their most regular treat, but wheat bread was a rarity they seldom saw, let alone tasted. As they came closer to the shore their footsteps quickened, and they hitched up their pinafores and petticoats and broke into a steady trot, laughing and talking as they went. The increase in pace made a small book fall from a pocket in the dress of the youngest girl, and she quickly stooped to retrieve it. Its title was The Book of Wonders, and apart from a sea pebble that she was sure contained gold, it was Morag Macdonald’s most treasured possession.

In The Book of Wonders were tinted drawings of the pyramids of Egypt; the hanging gardens of Babylon; the colossus of Rhodes and many more. There were facts and figures to amaze and astonish: of the length of trans-continental railroads and the number of days it used to take a great herd of buffalo to pass a given point. The book was indeed brimful of wonders, but it also contained fear. On one particular page there was a drawing of an effigy, huge and terrible, under whose wheels people with strange beliefs would sometimes cast themselves to a horrible death. Morag would only open that page while holding hands with her sister Annie, and then only in the broadest daylight and for the briefest instant, lest the idol with the fierce almond eyes and slanting eyebrows leap from the page and carry them away. The fear was not enough to make her shun the book however, for it contained all the places that she and her sister would one day visit. She controlled the fear by confronting her demon at least once a week, although she took the greatest care to ensure that the book never opened accidentally at that awful page.

The girls reached the summit of the high cliffs of Ard Marabay and passed the rough circle of low, gnarled stones that villagers called The Temple. The stones were on a slight rise topped with grass instead of heather. Salt winds and sheep kept it cropped like a dense carpet. They passed the stone circle and dropped into a sheltered dell, also smooth and green, and known as The Minister’s Bed. They had no idea who the minister was and why he was reputed to be buried in this spot, and neither did even the oldest in Marabay.

"I don’t think he was a minister at all," said Morag. "I think he came from a time before the Lord was even heard of."

Annie frowned at her sister. "There’s never been such a time. The Lord’s been heard of throughout all time. Ever since the world began in Genesis. Adam was the first man and he knew the Lord."

"But that was in the bible lands, not here. The folk of this island had to be told by saints. Up until then they worshipped rocks and stones, like at Callanish."

"I don’t understand how you can worship a stone," Annie said. "Stones don’t do anything."

"Ah, but they do. They have special powers at certain times of the sun and moon. It’s all here in my Book of Wonders. At these times of the year, terrible sacrifices were made to the stones. By druids."

Annie shuddered. "It must have been horrible to have lived then."

Morag lay back in the dell and stretched her legs out before her. "I would have liked to have lived then. I would have been a druidess. It would have been much more interesting than that boring church."

"Morag! If Auntie Alexina could hear you she’d box your ears for blasphemy." Annie giggled and tried to roll her sister over.

"Boring, boring, boring church," Morag sang. "Boring, boring, boring."

"Isht. You’ll be heard back at the village."

"No I won’t. There’s no-one to hear. Apart from..."

"Apart from who?"

Morag jumped to her feet and advanced on her sister with arms outstretched. "Apart from the minister whose bed we’re lying in. Maybe we’ll rouse him and up he’ll come up to catch us."

Annie shrieked as Morag grabbed her pinafore. "And he’ll drag us down, down, down to his lair underground, because he’s not really a minister at all, but a druid from the time before the saints came."

Her words tailed off as Annie clutched her legs and the two of them rolled into the bottom of the dell in a tangle of limbs and pinafores. "I’m not scared of your old druid," laughed Annie, pulling her sister’s hair.

"But you will when you see him," said Morag. "He’s coming for us now from under the stones. He’s chip chip-chipping his way to the surface."

"No he’s not. He’s not at all."

"He is, he is. Listen and you’ll hear it. Listen Annie."

They both fell silent and immediately stared at each other with wide eyes. Over the edges of the dell, an unmistakable sound of chip chip-chipping was wafting across the moor.

Annie squeezed her sister’s hand. "Let’s run Morag. Get ready to run."

Morag got to her feet. "No. I want to see what it is."

"No. Let’s go while there’s time."

Morag Macdonald’s face set into a mask of determination. She broke free from Annie’s clutch and opened The Book of Wonders at the page of fear and fascination. She held the book in her right hand and at arm’s length with the terrible picture facing away from her. With her left hand she reached for Annie and pulled her firmly but gently up the sloping side of the dell.

"We’ll meet it Annie. Whatever it is, we’ll meet it and it won’t do us any harm. I promise." Annie gulped to swallow her fear and together the sisters walked out of the dell with The Book of Wonders held before them.

The sight that met them at brow of the slope made gasp with relief and exasperation. A boy of around their own age was in The Temple, chipping away at the base of a stone with the kind of sturdy half-length hoe that was used for earthing up potatoes. He paused in his chipping. "It’s a grand day. What’s that book you’ve got there?"

Morag snapped the book shut and put it in her pocket. She then pulled a long switch of coarse heather and advanced on the boy with a glint in her eye.

"Hoy, steady!" he cried as Morag laid about his bare legs with the switch. "That’s sore. Steady."

"You scared us to death," Annie shouted as she ran over to join them."

Murdo "Tunnag" Mackenzie’s appearance was commonplace enough on the island, but would have made anyone from across the Minch stop in their tracks. It wasn’t the short, ill-made trousers of rough tweed, or the over-large gansey frayed at the cuffs. It was the fact that his head was completely shaved apart from a dossan of thick brown hair that sprouted from the front of his scalp. This was the bit of hair that he had been firmly held by whilst being shorn. It was an effective method of giving unruly boys a haircut, but it did produce unusual results. Underneath its dossan, Murdo’s face was sharp but friendly.

"What are you doing to the stone?" asked Morag.

"I’m going to see if I can find any treasure. There’s bound to be some around here somewhere. It stands to reason."

Morag laughed. "Since when did any of you Tunnags have reason? Your tribe wouldn’t recognise reason if it turned up in your porage."

"I have plenty reason," Murdo complained. "More than you at any rate. At least I don’t appear out of holes in the ground screaming and holding books in the air. What do you want to bring books out here for anyway?"

"To teach you manners and decorum," Morag replied. "Since you’re here we have enough to play at schools."

"Aw, I’m not playing at any schools," said Murdo. "All they ever write on my slate is BAD."

Annie looked at her sister and grinned. Dislike of school was commonplace enough, but Murdo’s objection was exceptional. After his first day there, as a five year old tot, he had been stopped by a village matron and asked what he thought of it. "It’s a bugger of a place," he replied, and the remark passed into Marabay folklore.

He had the right idea though, Annie often thought. She enjoyed school but could see why Murdo hated it. Although she and her sister were barefoot now, they would be shod for the winter months. Not so Murdo and his tribe of Tunnags, who were barefoot all year. In days of snow and stinging hail their feet would be so cold that they would have to pee on them just outside the school entrance. Once inside, Murdo and his ilk were prime fodder for humiliation and the black strap. It didn’t help that in a poor village his father was the poorest, and his mother such a lazy housekeeper that she frequently couldn’t be bothered to make a pot of porage in the morning and sent her brood out with just a handful of dry meal.

"All right, no school," said Morag and Annie together.

"You could help me find the treasure," Murdo said. "I’ll let you keep a share."

"What sort of treasure do you think it will be?" asked Annie.

Murdo looked at her as if she were a simpleton. "Gold and jewels of course. What other sort of treasure is there?"

"Frankincense and myrrh," Annie said.

"Ivory," said Morag. "From elephant tusks."

Murdo looked scathing. "Elephants! What elephants are there here?"

Morag matched his look. "The same amount of elephants as there are gold and jewels."

"Ah, but pirates could bring gold and jewels."

"Then so too could they bring ivory."

"This is silly and it’s wasting time," Murdo complained. "I’ve got to find the treasure before the day is out."

"Why?" the sisters said in chorus.

"So I can get away from this island."

"I want to get away too, said Morag. "But why just now all of a sudden."

"Because when I go back home I’m going to get leathered. Leathered at school, leathered at home. I’m sick of it."

Annie sighed. "What have you done now?"

"It’s what I’ve not done. I’m supposed to be at the peats, but I sneaked up early and came out here."

"It wouldn’t hurt to go to the peats," said Morag. "You shouldn’t be so idle."

Murdo was indignant. "I’m not idle. I was there yesterday and the day before, gathering hard. I’m sick of it and my hands are sore." He held out his hands, laced and crossed with the dark cuts that freshly dried black peat can leave on ungloved hands. "And ma said yesterday that if I gathered the whole of our longest bank, she’d make me a bowl of Creamola custard."

"Did you do it?" asked Annie.

"Yes," Murdo replied sullenly. "It took me all day."

"And did you get your custard?"

Murdo glowered. "It was all lumpy and there was no sugar to put in it."

Annie and Morag exchanged glances. "We’ll help you with your treasure," they said.

The afternoon sun was dipping but the land held plenty of heat, so the onshore breeze began to rise from the light-flecked sea. Gulls rode the currents at the cliff edge, and their cries echoed the soar and dip of their flightpaths.

The three children turned their noses into the breeze and bathed in its freshness. The girls wafted their skirts and their pinafores fluttered. Around them and in between the stones, the close-cropped grass was scarred by little heaps of earth where they had taken it in turns to wield the potato hoe. Placed on the top of one of the stones, almost in the manner of an act or reverence, was a large thin ring, a piece of an old beer crock and half a rusty scissor. Murdo picked up the ring for the hundredth time.

Annie put her arm about his shoulder. "It’s not gold," she said simply.

"It could be," Murdo gasped, and the girls could see that he was choking back tears.

Morag came up alongside and also put an arm around his shoulder. "It’s a curtain ring Murdo. It’s not gold and it’s way too big to fit on a hand."

"It might just get me away. Just a little way. Just over the Minch to the mainland. That would be far enough."

The girls squeezed his shoulders as his sobs broke free. Murdo also broke free and ran to the edge of the cliff. Annie made to follow but Morag shook her head and held her back. They watched as Murdo drew back his arm and sent the ring flying out to join the soaring gulls. His body looked so light and transient against the shimmering sea, that it seemed he could fly up and join them also. He stood for several minutes as the breeze dried away his tears and revived his self respect. Then he turned to join them.

Annie took out some barley bread from her pinafore, broke it into three pieces and handed it out. From her own pocket, Morag took out The Book of Wonders. When they had munched their bread she placed the book on a stone and summoned the others to her side. She then took her sister’s hand and opened the book at the fearful page.

"Murdo, see!" she said, and explained the horror that the page contained. Murdo’s eyes grew wide as he took in the full significance of what he saw. Morag took his hand also and squeezed it gently. "It won’t be as bad," she said softly. "It won’t be as bad, I promise. And it won’t last for ever. You’ll get away one day, but right now you have to go home."

Morag carefully closed her precious book and replaced it in her pocket. Murdo gave a crooked smile and hefted the potato hoe over his shoulder. Then the three made their way steadily back to Marabay with the warmth of the moor beneath their bare feet.

As they approached the village, a strange sight met them. A large crowd was assembled on the open space beside the post office and general store. The crowd contained men, women and children. It seemed that normal work had stopped and almost the whole village was there apart from the babes and the bedridden.

Murdo stopped abruptly and was panic-stricken. "A search party! They’re after me," he gasped.

"Isht, you fool," Morag said. "They’re not going to assemble the whole of Marabay just because you’ve run away from the peats."

Curiosity drove them on faster, and on seeing them, several of their peers ran to meet them with the same words flying from every lip.

The words were war, war, war. They had been received on the post office telegraph. The nation was at war with Germany.

Annie, Morag and Murdo joined the crowd and listened to the urgent hubbub, rising and falling like the west wind. The talk was of armies and navies; dukes and duchesses; Kaisers and Kings. Murdo shrank as his father passed him, deep in conversation with a neighbour, but all his father did was pat him distractedly on the shoulder. Morag and Annie watched as Murdo’s face began to glow with relief at his reprieve. The three of them lingered for a while as the sun dipped, but hunger began to tell on them. In tranquil golden light they started home to herring and potatoes. Meanwhile the world simmered, and the juggernaut - that would soon crush almost half the menfolk in the crowd - lurched upon its axles and slowly began to gather its lethal momentum.