Sea to Skye

Flora MacDonald sat in the quiet of her small cottage, the fire crackling low in the hearth; the embers now brighter than the flames. The years had bent her bones and lines had appeared that ran from her nose to her mouth, like rivulets in the wild landscape of Skye beyond her window. The winds outside whistled against the stone walls, carrying with them the scent of salt and heather, and with it, memories etched deep.

It had been so long ago now; a moment of decision that altered everything, where nothing that had come before in her life would ever be the same. The night she helped Charles Edward Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie, escape from the Isle of Skye, hidden beneath a disguise, fleeing from the British forces that hunted him like a wolf on the run. The memory of him, with his noble bearing and fiery spirit, still lingered in her mind as surely as if it had happened only yesterday.

She had admired him then. Still did, in many ways. He had been noble not just by blood but in demeanor; carrying the hopes of a nation on his shoulders. But there had been something else, too; a hesitation in his eyes that troubled her even now. He had had vision and deep faith, and yet, when it came to the hardest decisions, Flora had often wondered if he had lacked the will to make them. It wasn’t that he wasn’t brave; she had seen his courage firsthand, how he had refused to break under the pressure of defeat. But there had been moments - crucial moments - where she thought, if only he had been more decisive, more willing to take control of his fate, perhaps things might have turned out differently.

Flora leaned back in her chair, staring into the flames as if they could answer the questions that lingered. She could still see him standing there, dressed in a woman’s gown, ready to board the boat that would carry him to safety. It had been an absurd plan in which she had risked everything to help him - her family’s name, her own safety, and in the end, her freedom, but, at least in helping the prince escape, it had worked. She had, however, been captured for aiding his escape, imprisoned for months in a dank Tower cell where the walls seemed to close in tighter each day. As the days stretched on alone with her thoughts, she found a companiable peace knowing she had helped the Bonnie Prince when he had needed her. But there were also moments, especially during dark nights when she wrestled with the fear, when the peace was laid bare and she questioned if it had been worth it; if he had been worth the sacrifice she'd made for a cause she wasn't sure she believed in anymore.

Flora sighed, her hands resting on her lap, worn with age and work. Her life had not been easy since those days. After her imprisonment, she had returned to Skye, but the Jacobite cause had fallen, and with it, the lives of so many who had believed in it. She had married, raised children, and crossed an ocean to North Carolina in the colonies before the tides of war swept her back again across the sea. The years had taken much from her - her health, her wealth, her husband - but she did not regret the risk she took, that night on the Isle of Skye.

What she did regret, if anything, was that Scotland would never know what could have been. Perhaps it was fate, or bad luck during pivotal battles. Or perhaps the outcome, as with each of us, the outcome rested on a man who was human and had made decisions whose consequences had far reaching results.

Flora’s gaze shifted from the fire to the window, where the storm outside had begun to settle. The wind was still, for the moment; pockets of the sky giving glimpses of stars. She had lived long enough to see the world change, sometimes as quickly as the weather of her island; to see the old causes fade into memory, but some things - the call to protect what was dear - remained as steadfast as the stars above.

With a deep breath, Flora closed her eyes and let the fire’s warmth wash over her. The past, with all its wrestling, could rest now. She had made peace with most of it all. A smile rested lightly across the old woman's face as she realized, in the end, that was enough.