Chapter 9: The Gathering
In this chapter, we contemplate the wisdom of speaking vs. staying silent.
My life seemed to be assuming some shape, if not yet a formal routine.
Claire is settling into life at the castle. She has her medical work and she helps out in the kitchens, where the other women have begun to warm up to her. All told, she seems fairly content in the early passages of this chapter, which is slightly surprising. I had expected her to be a bit more anxious to escape after hearing the tales of travelers in the last chapter.
Not that Claire has forgotten about escape entirely. Everyone at Castle Leoch is preparing for the Gathering, when the men of Clan MacKenzie will come to swear fealty to Colum. We learn that the last Gathering was 20 years ago, when Jacob MacKenzie died and Colum was named laird. I'm not sure what has prompted this particular Gathering, though. It doesn't seem to be a regular thing (20 years is a long time), nor necessarily tied to a particular occasion (there's no transfer of power this time).
Among the confusion and disturbance of the Gathering, I thought, I should have no difficulty in finding my chance to escape.
This statement is tacked onto the end of about four pages of Claire talking about how much more comfortable she is at the Castle now. People are friendly. The work is fulfilling and there is music in the evenings. She loves spending days in the orchards picking fruit for the pantry. I'm finding it more than a little odd that she doesn't really seem to think much about Frank or the 20th century. I was expecting a few more comments on her discomfort or her longing for Frank. The beginning of this chapter is pretty cozy, so her mention of running away comes almost as a surprise at the end of this section. There isn't much here to make it seem like a matter of urgency.
Here we have the introduction of Geillis Duncan, a woman whose first line is, "Those kind are poison." Claire describes her as "a tall young woman, perhaps a few years older than myself, fair of hair and skin, with the loveliest green eyes I had ever seen."
Over the course of a single page, Geillis reveals:
- she is the local abortion provider
- she is a suspected witch
- she is protected by her husband's position as "procurator fiscal," which seems to be something like a district attorney
- she has a suspiciously detailed knowledge of who buys love charms for whom
- she married her husband for money and influence, but doesn't fuck him
And at some later point, she finally gets around to introducing herself by name. That seems like a LOT of sharing right out of the gate.
Despite the occasional teasing, I found her a pleasant companion, with a ready wit and a cheerful, if cynical, outlook on life.
Good. Things have been awfully earnest around here since we got rid of Frank.
"They say young Hamish is not his father's son."
Look, Geillis, as a reader, I appreciate your willingness to cut to the chase and discuss the most sensitive subjects with someone you have known for barely a minute. But too much sharing will (hopefully!) make other characters less likely to trust you with their own secrets. You don't create intimacy by just laying down everything you know right away — it makes you seem like you have bad judgment. Though, come to think of it, Jamie's first extended conversation with Claire covered topics including his sister being raped and his multiple floggings, so maybe we're just in a universe where premature oversharing is ok.
"The fair Letitia does not need any help in such matters, believe me. If people are seeking a witch in this neighborhood, they'd do better to look in the castle than in the village."
Do tell!
Among this verbal incontinence, Geillis drops a bomb that I don't think was included in the TV show: people believe that Hamish is Jamie's son. Which could be true, I guess. Letitia could have slept with 16-year-old Jamie, which would go some way toward explaining why Colum and Dougal are so squirrelly around him. But I sort of would expect them to kill him if it were true? I don't know. Not convinced.
The next day, Dougal invites Claire along on an errand to the village so she can visit Geillis. This is much too nice of him and I am immediately suspicious.
Dougal himself was in high spirits, and chatted and joked pleasantly as we went along.
I know I have declared myself to be #TeamDougal (or, at least, #TeamGrahamMcTavish), but this sounds way too chipper. Maybe I'm overly influenced by ShowDougal's scowling. Be careful, Claire.
When they arrive, Geillis makes an excuse for a private word with Dougal, which does not sound at all suspicious. Claire is impressed with Geillis's workroom, which is as bright, clean, and organized as Davie Beaton's was dark, filthy, and jumbled.
It was some time before Geilie appeared, flushed from climbing the stairs . . .
I'll bet.
Geillis entertains Claire with more juicy gossip until they are interrupted by a gathering mob. A boy has been accused of stealing and Claire, aghast at the idea that he might lose a hand for the offense, asks Geillis to intervene on his behalf.
There is a paragraph here where Claire reflects on the problem of the bystander. Likening her current situation to the position of Germans who witnessed Nazi atrocities during WWII, Claire understands how hard it is for one person to stand up to a crowd, even if the crowd is bent on harming an innocent:
To stand against a crowd would take something more than ordinary courage; something that went beyond human instinct. And I feared I did not have it, and fearing, was ashamed."
This is a nice, honest moment. It recognizes that overt activism is astonishingly brave, while, at the same time, acknowledging that practical mercy might take the form of tending to a powerful man's indigestion. We'll have to see which characters stand up to mobs and which take more practical paths.
Geillis's intervention earns the miscreant a lighter sentence: he gets his ear nailed to the pillory and has to stay there for an hour. Humiliating and painful, but not permanently disfiguring.
Claire hangs out with Geillis for the rest of the afternoon until Jamie shows up to collect her. Why? Where is Dougal?
"I'd business in the village."
Bullshit. Is he arranging little scenarios so that he can meet Claire "accidentally"? Or is this just lazy writing?
Geillis gives Jamie and Claire a box and a note with instructions to deliver it to Dougal, so who knows what that's all about. Wasn't Dougal just there a few hours ago? Why couldn't he take it himself?
Claire spends a few minutes ogling Jamie's "broad back and muscular forearms" before initiating this exchange:
"'You're, er, quite sizable, aren't you'? I said. A half-smile curved his lips and he nodded, clearly wondering what I was up to.
'Big enough for most things,' he answered."
Claire and Jamie conspire to free the young thief from the pillory. Claire causes a diversion by pretending to faint while Jamie rips the nail out of the boy's ear. Put a tally mark in the "practical courage" column, I guess.
Again, I am forced to wonder whether Jamie is agreeing to all of this out of sympathy for the innocent (Laoghaire, this kid), or because he has noticed that these sorts of escapades offer opportunities for him to touch Claire. He not only helps her up when she "faints," but makes an exit by "lifting [her] bodily off the couch and heading for the door." They also decide to ride double back to Castle Leoch, leading Claire's horse behind them. So.
"Ye wouldna expect me to be less bold than a wee Sassenach lassie, now would ye?"
I approve of this. At least we have some indication of why Jamie might actually like Claire, barring the obvious that she is pretty and useful for tending his various wounds. It's heartening to hear him find her worthwhile in a way that does not serve him.
Body Count:
Jamie: 3 + (assorted redcoats)