Chapter 6: Colum's Hall
In this chapter, I am less impressed with Jamie than perhaps I am supposed to be.
Question: How do you pronounce the word "plaid"? I have only ever heard "PLAD," rhyming with bad. But Davina Porter, the narrator of the audiobooks, says "PLADE," rhyming with blade. Is this a legit regional/archaic pronunciation? I only ask because she's going to say it approximately 1,000 times over the next 30+ hours and I'm not sure whether I should be annoyed.
Claire goes to dinner in the hall, where she meets Colum's wife, Letitia, and his son, Hamish. I find Letitia intriguing and hope she has more to do in the book than in the show.
The two teenage girls next to Dougal, who giggled and poked each other when introduced to me, were his daughters, Margaret and Eleanor.
Dougal has kids?
In a reversal from chapter 1, Claire finds herself pleased to see smoked herring, which is at least a familiar food. She also shows off her background in archaeology with an internal monologue that notes that "runcible spoons would not be in general use for quite a few years yet." Claire Beauchamp, inventor of the dinner fork.
Wee Hamish gets her with a "Ye've not said grace yet," a move which has opened many an awkward gathering among my own extended family. A quick internet search reveals that Hamish's prayer, the "Selkirk Grace," existed in some form before Robert Burns, perhaps in the Lowlands, and perhaps among the Covenanters. Wee Hamish: Covenanter? Probably not. Oh, God. Are there going to be Covenanters in these books? I am going to have flashbacks to my general examinations in grad school. It was not a happy time for me.
Claire asks about Jamie. Colum and Dougal share some cryptic conversation regarding Jamie's trustworthiness, with Colum of the opinion that they should be keeping a very close eye on him.
I resolved to seek out the young man in question in the morning, just to assure myself that he was as suitably cared for as could be managed.
Sure, Claire. When you have to justify something to yourself in your own private thoughts, you can be sure that your motives are pure.
In the morning, Mrs. Fitz comes in for another round of Claire's toilet, complete with lead-based cosmetics. Claire gets gussied up for "Hall," which is apparently what they call Colum's court.
Claire mentions that a piper is playing in the hall. As a fife player myself, I can attest that people do not generally enjoy martial instruments played in an enclosed, echo-y space.
So it was deliberate, this flaunting of his twisted legs and ungainly waddle on the long progress to his seat. Deliberate, too, the contrast with his tall, straight-bodied younger brother, who looked neither to left nor to right, but walked straight behind Colum to the wooden chair and took up his station standing close behind.
Interesting. Colum is in charge, unapologetic, and a showman. This question of two people complementing one another to do what neither could do alone is, I think, an important theme here.
Most of the cases adjudicated by Colum are conducted in Gaelic. As much as I wanted to know what they were saying in the TV show, I'm glad that they didn't subtitle it. Very helpful in identifying with Claire's alienation.
Claire's case is fifth on the docket. Dougal gets up and presents an oral petition to Colum, repeating most of Claire's story as she told it to Colum. No doubt, people in the hall will take it as some version of the truth. But he also emphasizes that she is English, not French, which will make people more suspicious of her. Colum makes a public declaration that she will be a guest, but it is clear that she is not free to leave.
Next up: Laoghaire, the teenage girl accused of "loose behavior" by her father. Colum orders her whipped, but Jamie steps in to take her beating for her.
This makes approximately no sense. In fact, it makes me suspect that one of the following is true:
- Jamie is sleeping with Laoghaire.
- Jamie is his own worst enemy.
- Jamie enjoys being hit as much as Black Jack Randall enjoys hitting him.
I know, of course, that this is supposed to make Jamie appear chivalrous and heroic and all that. But it just makes me suspicious. Like, is he stupid? Or just dangerously reckless? If he were sleeping with Laoghaire, I would get that, but even then, this seems a bad time to admit that in front of everyone? Reading this, I am puzzled as to why Laoghaire's father doesn't make them get married on the spot. Though I guess Jamie did just arrive at the castle, so he can't have been the one she was caught with (unless he didn't spend last night in the stables after all?).
Mrs. Fitz points out that Jamie is wearing a non-MacKenzie tartan. Clearly, this has significance for onlookers other than Claire and the reader. Was the clan-specific tartan really a thing in the 18th century? I thought it was a 19th-century romantic invention. But maybe based on something historical?
It was a scientific beating, skillfully engineered to inflict bruising pain, but not to disable or maim.
Wait, this giant bruiser is Angus? I will have to adjust my mental picture of Angus. Though I do love ShowAngus.
Claire goes to tend Jamie's wounds and interrogate him about his apparent stupidity.
I felt a certain diffidence about asking, but I really wanted to know what lay behind that quixotic gesture.
This is one of my favorite things about this character. This is not the first time she has said, "I know it's not very feminine to be so nosy, but I really reeeeeeally want to know, so damn the confines of 'ladylike' behavior."
Jamie answers that he took the beating to spare the girl's pride. Which, ok, I guess. I suppose he knows his way around public corporal punishment. But I am not convinced that this is evidence of "something special in the way of guts" rather than "something special in the way of an inappropriate lack of self-preservation."
Mrs. Fitz:
"Och, here ye are, lad! I see ye've found your healer already."
Well, if anyone was ever in need of his own personal healer, I guess it's Jamie. Though I object to Claire being re-imagined as his sidekick. It's not your story, Jamie.
Mrs. Fitz teaches Claire how to use leeches. They discuss various other treatments for bleeding, all of which I'm sure will come in handy.
Mrs. Fitz also thanks Jamie for taking the beating — apparently, Laoghaire is her granddaughter. Is there some significance to Laoghaire's name? I mean, is having a name that is deliberately difficult for the reader of an English-language novel supposed to signify something about the character? Is she of a particular class or family background? It just seems like Diana Gabaldon may be trying to signal something like that when Dougal's daughters are named Margaret and Eleanor, while Mrs. Fitz's granddaughter is named Laoghaire. But I don't know enough about Scottish names to know what that may be.
"Though she had better thank ye herself, if she's any manners at all."
Indeed.
Laoghaire shows up for the aforementioned display of gratitude and Claire is thinking along the same lines as everyone else.
I left the courtyard, wondering whether in fact his gallant gesture had been quite so altruistic as I supposed.
True enough, Claire. Though it occurs to me that the fastest way to get YOUR attention is to start bleeding. And Jamie may have noticed that, too.
The next day, Mrs. Fitz shows Claire around the herb gardens and tells her more useful things about botanical medicines. They send a boy to fetch Jamie so Claire can tend his wounds.
"'He says,' panted the boy, 'as 'e doesna hurt bad enough to need doctorin', but thank ye for yer consairn."
So maybe he was after Laoghaire after all?
Not one to be brushed off lightly, Claire brings Jamie his lunch. He tells her all about living rough in the woods, surviving by eating grass. Claire seems to find this story charming, so much so that she forgets all about checking his shoulder. I remain unconvinced. After this chapter, I am inclined to regard Jamie as brave in a stupid way, not an endearing way — the kind of person who is dangerous to be around. Which is why I'll never be a romantic heroine, I suppose. It's all well and good for Claire to like him, though I think that recklessness does not square with Frank's assessment that she is "terrifyingly practical."
Body Count:
Jamie: 3