Gordon F D Wilson http://gordonfdwilson.com The View Through My Eyes Wed, 21 Jul 2010 00:50:14 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.1 en hourly 1 The average amongst us is wrapped in a foetal sack of ignorance and disinterest, firmly attached to the umbilical cord of commerce. http://gordonfdwilson.com/504/the-average-amongst-us-is-wrapped-in-a-foetal-sack-of-ignorance-and-disinterest-firmly-attached-to-the-umbilical-cord-of-commerce/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/504/the-average-amongst-us-is-wrapped-in-a-foetal-sack-of-ignorance-and-disinterest-firmly-attached-to-the-umbilical-cord-of-commerce/#comments Wed, 21 Jul 2010 00:50:14 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=504 There is absolutely no point in trying to address the growing environmental crisis, regardless which of the veritable smorgasbord of critical issues most concerns you, with top down political and economic solutions. The reason that there is no point is because there is about as much chance of those solutions making a difference as there is getting on a Barcelona bound train in Madrid and expecting to get off in Paris.
The poor, weary souls who really do give a damn about trying to save the planet are trying to convince the rest riding on the Barcelona bound train that if we all get up and walk to the back of the train, somehow we will delay our arrival long enough to actually change our destination.
Despite our high speed connectivity and remarkable scientific achievements, the human race is less “fit” to make the changes necessary to save our sorry souls today than we were fifty years ago. The reason for that is because there are too damn many of us, and we all want to have a say in what the solution should be.
In 1960 the world’s population was slightly over 3 billion. Today it is over 6 billion and expected to reach 7 billion by the end of next year. Despite declining population growth worldwide, census projections put the World’s population at 10 billion by 2060.
It is illogical to consider that the exponential increase in population, along with our unbridled leap forward in technology, is not directly connected to the exponential decline of our global ecosystems, and yet I repeatedly hear politicians and economists tell me that the solution to our problem is improvements in technology and the application of more money to more programs.
In the 1960s an American plant pathologist named Norman Borlaug advanced an idea that came to be called the “green revolution”. The original goal of the Green Revolution was to increase efficiency and boost the yields of cereal grain crops. Since populations were topping 3 billion, it was thought that if we produce more cereal grains we could decrease global food insecurity. The way to do that, Mr. Borlaug contended, was to genetically modify (GM) seeds to condition them to germinate in shorter periods of time and despite adverse climate conditions. The idea was good enough to win Mr. Borlaug a Nobel Peace Prize.
Backed by the money from the Rockefeller and Ford foundations, along with huge financings from the World Bank and American government, research commenced on the development of GM plant species, many of which were heavily pesticide dependant, and these “new world” seeds were shipped abroad to farmers who stripped their land of the rich plant diversity and moved toward a mono-crop culture. Within a short time the pesticides had ruined the soil, killed the good bugs as well as bad, had contaminated the farmer who had little or no training in the application of these poisons, and had bankrupted communities who couldn’t afford to pay for these expensive plant drugs. In short, it was a disaster!
Yet, even today we continue down that path, following those who cry out for us to hitch our fate to the wagon of technology, scientific advancement and international financing through the World Bank. Those are the voices that have convinced the politicians to let them drill for oil deep in our oceans without the capacity to halt a catastrophic disaster that results from a blow out. Similar voices have convinced Obama to once again roll the nuclear dice for domestic power production, risking far more than the ecosystem of the Gulf States. And they can do so because the average amongst us is wrapped in a foetal sack of ignorance and disinterest, firmly attached to the umbilical cord of commerce.
The prophets of the 1960s, like E.F. Schumacher, Amory Lovins, Rachel Carson and Donella and Dennis Meadows all put forward thoughtful and visionary approaches to solutions within their various fields of endeavour. Sadly, their good works were co-opted. Their ideas infused within the populus vox vocis played to us through the instruments of the state. We all climbed aboard a train bound for Barcelona, told by those who run it, “next stop Paris”.
Don’t look to the politicians, and certainly don’t look to science or technology to fix the problems. It is up to us to get off the train. In order to do that we need to pull the brake cord on our race toward the global madness of unlimited consumption, and learn the lessons so patiently taught us in the mid-twentieth century. Limits to growth economic models are not only ok, they are imperative if we are to survive the demands of the growing number of people who now and will soon roam this earth.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/504/the-average-amongst-us-is-wrapped-in-a-foetal-sack-of-ignorance-and-disinterest-firmly-attached-to-the-umbilical-cord-of-commerce/feed/ 0 Banks sell the wealth of the people for profit http://gordonfdwilson.com/501/banks-sell-the-wealth-of-the-people-for-profit/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/501/banks-sell-the-wealth-of-the-people-for-profit/#comments Tue, 18 May 2010 22:37:24 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=501 The International Monetary Fund is calling on the G20 governments to impose a new bank tax to help pay for the bailouts and deficits caused by the global financial crisis. Our Finance Minister Flaherty is rallying Canadians in support of the banks as though we should be defending against an assault on our national hockey team.
While Canadians might all agree that a tax on Canadian banks as suggested by the International Monetary Fund is unwarranted, let’s not kid ourselves into thinking that these massive public corporations shouldn’t pay their fair share in domestic tax. The banks are not benevolent citizens looking out for the welfare of average Canadians, although they spend millions in advertising each year to have you believe otherwise.
Canada’s big five banks, the Royal Bank, CIBC, Bank of Montreal, Scotiabank, and TD Canada Trust, are the largest corporations in Canada if one uses asset value as the measure. They control 70% of all our money on deposit in Canada. They determine 80% of small business lending and hold over 80% of the assets in the investment brokerage industry. They own all but two of the large trust companies and the majority of consumer credit and mortgage lending.
Like any corporation, management’s only concern is to provide a good return to their shareholders. But that is where the similarity with other corporations ends.
Most corporations are built upon a base of shareholder investment, but not our banks; they use your money. In fact, the hard earned money of over 20 million Canadians and the majority of Canadian businesses makes up 95% of the total capital base of the banks. Shareholder investment totals only 5%.
Ironically it is the fact that the banks control so much of your money and hold so much of your debt that has put them into the “too big to fail” category. So if poor business practice causes one or more of them to falter, your tax dollars will make them whole, but certainly not you. Even in good times, banks do little to help the average Canadian family or small and medium size business.
Consider that most of the consumer credit is owned by the banks, and then take a look at the interest rate they are charging on your credit card. Add that to the service fees they charge for virtually every transaction, and then try to secure a small business loan. In truth banks don’t lend you money, they sell you access to your money. The terms will always be in their favour, the price is a premium, and they take little or no risk. They certainly do not invest in you, your family, or your home or company despite what their advertising might say.
Canadian banks sell (lend) about $600 billion to businesses a year. Of that total, only 3% of loans go to small businesses that require loans under $100,000, and about 20% to medium size businesses with loans up to $5 million. The remaining 77% goes to big business in loans well over $5 million.
Ironically, much of the big business lending finances large international corporate enterprise outside of Canadian borders, and yet it is the small and medium-sized business sector that has created 90% of the jobs in Canada since 1983 and currently employs half of all working Canadians, who in turn put their hard earned money back into the bank and are paid peanuts in interest for this “privilege”.
Having myself served as a Provincial Finance Minister, I can understand why our federal Minister of Finance Jim Flaherty has been quick to rise to the defence of the banks stating, “We’re not going to punish our banks for the fact that they have acted responsibly,” but what I don’t understand is why he has not told Canadians that the banks have had the benefit of over $200-billion via a low-interest line of credit from Ottawa. Neither has he reminded us his Conservative government has gifted the banks over $4 billion in corporate tax reductions. Nor did he mention that any compliance the Canadian banks had with Canadian banking regulations was done reluctantly, with loud and frequent protests by our banks that they were overregulated and couldn’t compete with the other banks on a level playing field.
The Conservatives while in opposition supported the banks demands for deregulation to match that of the American banking system. Good thing the federal Liberals of the day didn’t listen!
Canada’s financial sector has averaged $50-billion a year in before-tax profits since 2005. Even during the 2009 recession, our banks and financial partners still racked up an impressive $44-billion in profits. Incredibly, during 2009, a year with record personal and small business bankruptcies, rising unemployment and numerous home foreclosures, the financial sector, which employs just 6% of Canadian workers, managed to earn profits of over 25%.
So while I might agree that the IMF has no business telling Canadian banks that they need to pay into an international fund for bank bailouts, Canadians should become increasingly aware of the huge profits that are being made by these institutions with every uptick in both privately and publicly held debt.
Canadian banks are uniquely positioned to be profitable and hold protected status within our economy. They didn’t survive 2009 simply through sound management, but did so hand in hand with the Bank of Canada and the federal government.
Finance ministers are uniquely positioned to set a new economic course, and Mr. Flaherty has been handed a golden opportunity to do so now that he has the banks’ attention. It seems to me that the compassion that Mr. Flaherty has for the Canadian banks is misplaced. What he should do is recognize that it is the hard work of the Canadian people that has built these institutions, and protect the people from usury as applied to credit card interest rates by capping the upper limit. He should compel the banks to lend to small and medium sized business at affordable rates, and have a compulsory public audit of accounts to make sure that they are doing so.
Banks sell the wealth of the people for profit. Mr. Flaherty should make sure that a fair percentage of those profits come home to benefit the people who have made them possible.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/501/banks-sell-the-wealth-of-the-people-for-profit/feed/ 1 Final chapter Will Gunn. http://gordonfdwilson.com/498/final-chapter-will-gunn/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/498/final-chapter-will-gunn/#comments Sat, 08 May 2010 21:26:35 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=498 Chapter 28

The wolf wound in my thigh was itchy so without thinking I reached down to scratch it and my heart missed a beat. The jagged wound had been stitched. I rubbed my finger along the coarse stitching. I touched the wound in my side. Stitched! What in hell? My head was spinning. How long have I been sleeping? I tried to understand what my senses were telling me. The room was in motion. I blinked and struggled against a restraint that held me on my bed. I struggled to see something, anything, in the dark, dank room.
Outside I heard voices. Where am I? My arms were free so I pulled on the rope that tied me to my bed. Why am I tied! The rescue plan, I have to get up! I started to panic, I had no idea where I was, and yet I knew that I had to meet the servant girl, Nelly Bass, at the servant gate at sunrise. I couldn’t think clearly. The damp smell of saltwater-cured wood was all too familiar to me. I untied the ropes and rolled out of the bunk. My weak legs collapsed and the violent roll of the room caused me to fall with a thump onto a hard wooden floor. Suddenly, sickeningly, I knew I was not in a tavern keeper’s room. I am at sea!
Crawling to overcome the pitch and roll, I reached a set of narrow wooden steps, pulled myself up and pushed hard to open the hatch. A wall of water crashed into me.
“Close that hatch!” A sailor tied to the capstan yelled above the howling wind.
I grabbed a wooden rail next to the hatch-frame to prevent being swept away by wind and water. Lying flat on the soaking deck, I kicked the hatch door closed.
“William, go below and seal your hatchway!” The voice was unmistakable. My uncle James stood braced at the steering station leaning into the wind, next to the helmsman. Holding tight to the wooden rail, I ducked as a second wave washed over me. “We need a man aloft to secure those lines!” James yelled and a soaked figure crawled along the deck toward the mainmast rigging.
The storm we were sailing through was nothing compared to the storm of emotion that raged in me. I have been betrayed! Rational thought flew from my mind like the spray from the raging waves. At that moment I didn’t care if I lived or died. I had been stolen and all hope of saving Helen stolen with me.
My face wet with seawater and tears of rage, I scrambled toward James. He is responsible! He betrayed me! As I reached the short step that led up to the stern deck and steering station, a monstrous wave crashed over the rail, hitting me broadside and washing me down the deck head first through a wide scupper and into the churning lips of the frothing ocean.
Just as my head plunged into the water, a strong hand gripped my heel and pulled me back on board. Gasping to regain my breath, I reached out and took the hand of the sailor who had saved me from a watery grave. The broad shouldered man pulled us both back along the deck by hauling on a rope tied to the capstan. He put a tether under both my arms and around my chest and synched me to his own line.
“What the hell were you thinking?” The sailor put his arm over me as another huge wave crashed over the side.
“I shouldn’t be here. He betrayed me.” I pointed to James and shivered as the wind lashed my face with stinging beads of water.
“Aye, well if we survive this storm, I am sure there will be plenty of time to settle the matter.”
The ship heaved rising to the crest of a giant wave, then plunged down the other side, pounding into the ocean at the trough. I held on for all I was worth, thankful that we built sounds ships in Freswick bay. Confronting my Uncle would have to wait.

THE END
 

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/498/final-chapter-will-gunn/feed/ 0 Concluding chapters of William Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/496/concluding-chapters-of-william-gunn-cont/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/496/concluding-chapters-of-william-gunn-cont/#comments Fri, 07 May 2010 05:50:25 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=496 #
Ruth fought back the voices in her head. They had returned in a screaming frenzy. This had to be done. It was the only way. She held her head with both hands as if to stop it splitting in half from the growing pressure within. Her eyes focused on the battlement as she walked through the arched doorway into the driving rain. Don’t be a fool. Freedom is finally here. Kill her, kill them all. She tried not to listen, but the closer she came to the edge, the shriller the voices became. Her body trembled, her mind reeled. She could no longer hear the wind howling around her, only the voices. One step up, then… one step over. How easy it will be. Stop! Stop there is another way, a better way! Those had been her words. The same words she used to beg the butcher not to cut her. But he ripped her open and stole Helen from her body.
In her mind Ruth saw the flash of the steel knife, felt the pain of the blade, then the darkness pierced only by the sharp light that stole through the window of her room; that silent, lonely room. That image had haunted her. Only the swallows outside her window gave her peace from it. How high they flew, rising with the wind. Ruth spread her arms wide and felt the wind lift her off the battlement. She could fly, just like the swallows. The voices in her head combined in a scream, silent to all except a smiling Ruth.
#
James Gunn stepped aside as his nephew Henry put his muscular arm under William’s shoulders. “Get the other end of him, Torquil. We’ll carry him down, Uncle.”
“Is he awake?” Torquil asked. “His eyes are open.”
“He is filled with opiate, he’ll no’ remember anything of this.” James certainly hoped that was the case as he watched Henry lift William’s head and shoulders while Torquil took his legs. Together they raised him off the bed and carried him out of the small room, and down the narrow stairs to the main room of the tavern.
“He’s breathing right enough and his eyes are open,” James said to Thomas Sinclair. “Does he know what’s happening around him?”
“It was a strong opiate, and the lad was very tired. I fear I may have given him a wee bit too much, but it won’t kill him.” Thomas, using his finger, gently lifted one of William’s fallen eyelids, and then put his fingers to the pulse point on William’s neck. “His eyes are clear enough, and his heart steady. He may drift in an out of consciousness for a day or so, but when he comes around he should act normally.”
“Take him to the horses, we must leave. He can ride with you Henry.” James turned to Thomas. “Thank you, friend. I believe you saved his life.”
Thomas smiled and walked with James out of the tavern to the rain-soaked horses. Torquil hoisted William up in front of Henry who grabbed his brother around the waist and held him tightly.
“How far do you have to go?”
“No more than two hours ride. There is a protected shallow in Sinclair’s Bay. The ship has sailed south from Freswick, that’s where I will meet her.” James told Thomas, who held Torquil’s horse for him.
“Will you all go to sea?” Thomas asked.
“Not me,” Henry said, turning his horse toward the village road.
“Nor I,” Torquil added and heeled his horse to fall in line with Henry.
“I am in your debt, Thomas.” James kicked on his horse and the three were soon in a gentle canter the horses hooves splashing in the puddles on the road that led north past the Keith castle. When they reached the crest of a small rise, James pulled up and the others followed.
“Something out of the ordinary is going on down there.” James looked toward the castle where guards were running and shouting. A vegetable merchant rode his empty wagon up the winding road toward them. He slowed as he passed.
“If you’re coming for the wedding best turn around.” The man said through the driving rain.
“And, why is that?” James asked.
“The reluctant bride just threw herself off the high tower into the sea. Having met the groom, I can’t say I blame her.” The man held out his handless right arm, shook his head, and whipped his horses forward.
The three men looked at each other. Henry hugged William’s limp body. “Sorry little brother,” he whispered in his ear and then rode with the others past the castle.

#
“Sound the alarm!” The shout came from atop the right battlement, “Hey! Hey! Sound the Alarm; someone has just fallen from the far tower!”
Shorty, ears pricked, head down ran hard into the Jacko’s back knocking him head over heal. The boy, free of Jacko’s grip tried to get hold of Shorty’s rein, but the horse was too fast and reared high kicking his hooves at the scared boy who turned and ran causing the other guard to run after him. Shorty whinnied and circled Helen stamping the ground with his hooves.
Nelly, eyes wide and mouth open looked at Helen. “She’s given you freedom. Don’t waste it. Go! Go on!.”
Shorty pushed his head under Helen’s arm and she needed no further urging. She threw herself onto Shorty’s back. “I don’t even know your name,” she asked just as Jacko scrambled back to his feet.
“It’s Nelly. Now get out before you infect us all.” Nelly threw her arms around Jacko who held his back, still shaken by Shorty’s attack. “Protect me, Jacko.”
“I’ll never forget you Nelly.” Helen didn’t have to give Shorty the signal to run. She held on tightly as the little horse leapt from standing to full gallop in two strides. He raced through the rain away from the castle. As they reached the crest of a rise Helen noticed an empty wagon in the far distance and pulled him up.
“Not that way Shorty.” She turned him northward and the two galloped along the ridge until they came to a fork in the road. Both choices would lead her north, the road on her left up onto higher ground and through the highland, the road on her right down toward the water following the coast. She looked behind and to her great relief saw no one following. She was about to take the coastal road when she noticed further ahead three riders crest a rise of land. Fearful that they would be Keiths, she turned Shorty toward the highland road.
“Take me to William, Shorty.” Shorty turned and started down the coastal road, but Helen pulled him back. “Not that way.” She urged him on, but Shorty stood his ground looking down the coastal road. “Come on, Shorty, we have to go.”
With ears back, and a last glance down the coastal road, Shorty turned and with a nod of his head, cantered up the steep highland road that would lead them north to Freswick Bay.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/496/concluding-chapters-of-william-gunn-cont/feed/ 0 concluding chapters of Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/494/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-4/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/494/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-4/#comments Thu, 06 May 2010 05:44:09 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=494 Nelly pulled on Helen’s hand as the two made their way down the narrow stone stairway to the long hallway. “I will try to sneak you out the gate. Keep your head down. Act like you are a sick servant girl. And don’t look anyone in the eye.”
Nelly pulled Helen largely ignored, through a group of women who were unloading baskets of leeks, onion and cabbage. To her great relief the gate was still open. “When we are outside just keep walking, don’t run. You are almost free.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Na, my place is here with my mum and Nan. Look at that you’re free!”
“Hey! Stand right where you are!” Nelly froze and Helen looked down.
They were a few paces beyond the gate and Nelly cursed through her teeth. “It’s Jacko,” she whispered. “Don’t say a word. You’re sick. Very sick with something catching.” She looked into Jacko’s enquiring eyes and tried to smile. Inside she was terrified.
“Who’s this? You’re not going to tell me she’s Fergus.” Jacko held out a long wooden staff and tucked the end under Helen’s chin gently raising it to see her face. “Jacko, I wouldn’t get too close, she’s sick. Let me take her out or we’ll all get the cough.” Nelly nodded her head at Helen, hoping Jacko would not see her coaxing. “It’s the cough, Jacko.” Nelly smiled behind Jacko’s back as Helen coughed, but Jacko did not back up.
“This is no servant that I have seen before. I would remember such a beautiful face. She doesn’t look sick to me.” The guard removed his staff and put his hand beneath Helen’s chin and lifted her head higher. “Come with me,” he ordered, and pulled Helen by the arm toward the covered stable.
Nelly sidled up to Jacko trying to avoid the puddles as she walked. “Where are you going? She is sick I tell you. Will you stop for a moment, Jacko?”
“We’ll get to the stable and out of this fowl wind and rain. Then I want some answers Nelly.”
Nelly quickly caught up and tightly held onto Helen’s free hand. She knew Jacko well. After all she would bed him from time to time in exchange for favors. But, she was not the only servant who bought favor from the guards in that manner. There would be a limit to Jacko’s help. Besides, she was sure that he had recognized Helen.
“Ah, Jacko just the man I was coming to see.” A guard approached holding a young boy by the scruff of his neck. “This lad claims he was invited to the castle by Dugald himself. He says this gold Keith medallion, proves it.” He opened his palm to show Jacko a gold coin.
“Don’t move, either of you!” Jacko ordered the two women. “See to it that they don’t, while I deal with this boy,” Jacko ordered the guard.
“He rode up on that excuse for a horse as bold as can be, showed me this coin and said that Dugald himself had told him to come to the castle.” The guard chucked as he walked toward Helen and Nelly.
Nelly looked at the boy, but it was the horse that seemed to catch Helen’s attention.
“Where did you get that horse?” Helen suddenly asked the boy, and Nelly dropped her hand and took a step away.
“Be quiet or they will arrest us both,” she whispered
The boy, stood rigid. “It’s mine.”
“No it isn’t.” Helen walked toward the boy. “Where’s the man who owns that horse? This boy is a thief!”
Jacko grabbed hold of the boy, and looked at Nelly who felt panic creeping through her as she stared at Helen who stared at the horse that, with big eyes, and ears erect actually seemed to smile back. For a moment nobody moved.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/494/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-4/feed/ 0 The concluding chapters to Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/492/the-concluding-chapters-to-will-gunn-cont/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/492/the-concluding-chapters-to-will-gunn-cont/#comments Wed, 05 May 2010 05:17:05 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=492 #
James Gunn didn’t stop to knock. He pushed open the tavern door and marched in with purpose. His journey to Ackergill had been an unwelcome but necessary diversion. He meant to make it short.
Henry and Torquil sat at large table dipping fresh bread into a bowl of gravy, each slurping the soggy bits into their mouths. They sucked the tips of their fingers and pulled them free with a pop.
“Where is he?” James asked without salutation.
“Good morning, Uncle.” Henry stood and offered his hand but James ignored it.
“Ah, James, it’s good to see you.” Thomas Sinclair walked slowly down the narrow stairway at the back of the tavern. “William is upstairs. I did exactly as Robert requested in his note. The lad has enough opiate to keep him free from conscious thought for another two days.”
“I am sorry that we had to trouble you this way,” James replied. He turned to Henry and Torquil. “Henry, go fetch your brother. Torquil lend a hand. William will be a dead weight to pack down those narrow stairs.”
“It has been no trouble at all. We added the dream-maker to his stew last night. It didn’t take long. Will you have something to break your fast, a drink at least?”
“I cannot spare the time. I must ride north to meet my ship. This storm has come at the least convenient time, and I fear that if we do not clear the shallows before it fully develops, we may not make it out at all.”
“Would it not be wiser to wait until the storm passes? And William, what will become of William?” Thomas watched Henry and Torquil use their finger to wipe the last of the gravy off the wall of the bowl.
“I could waste a life waiting for tide and wind. William will come with me. That is, if I can get these two louts up those stairs to collect him. Get on with it!” James took a step toward Henry, who stepped away from the stair.
“Is there no other way, Uncle?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know one. Besides I am here now. What does it matter to you anyway?” James glared at Henry, who looked away.
“It no’ seems right, what we are doing here. It’s like an act of betrayal. William asked for our help to get his woman out of the tower. Instead we have filled him with opiate, and you will take him to sea. Betrayal, aye that’s what it is,” Henry said softly.
“You choose a curious time to find a conscience, lad.” James looked at Torquil, who had taken his seat, and determined that he stood with Henry. “Keith will kill him if he tries such a foolish rescue. But mark me; there will be a time for retribution. Dugald Keith will die for what he has done, I promise you that. Today is not that day. Now, are you going to go up and get William or do I have to do it myself?”

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/492/the-concluding-chapters-to-will-gunn-cont/feed/ 0 Concluding chapters of Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/487/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-3/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/487/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-3/#comments Tue, 04 May 2010 15:43:30 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=487 Nelly Bass turned the key in the brass lock, and swung the door open. Shuffling through the door, clothes in one hand and a pot of food in the other, she saw Ruth, and stopped abruptly. “Who are you?”
“This is my mother,” Helen said, stepping forward.
“You don’t say,” Nelly chuckled. “That guard downstairs thought you a bloody fool. He’s looking for you. Thought you should know that. Are you the woman who put a knife to my ma’s throat?”
“I didn’t harm her,” Ruth replied.
“Aye, well, you scared her right enough.” Nelly put down the pot and pulled out a wooden spoon that she had tucked down her cleavage.
“Can you get Helen out of here?” Ruth asked.
“I don’t know about that. I was told to bring you dry clothes and some food.” Nelly thought for an instant how easily she might walk Helen back down the stairs dressed in the servants’ clothes that she had brought. Even if she was to run with Helen, Keith would go after her and bring her back. She shivered at the thought of Keith’s revenge. “Even if I did, he would find out. Do you have any idea what Dugald Keith would do to me if he caught me helping you escape? Besides, your lover was supposed to do the rescuing, not me.”
“My lover…?” Helen’s head perked up, her voice urgent.
“William, I think he said his name was. I took clothes to where he was lodging just as I said I would. Supposed to meet me outside the gate before sunrise, he was. I waited as long as I could, but he never came. Thought better of it I suppose. Here, let me help you out of that dress.” Nelly looked at the torn, blood-stained wedding dress. “Then it’s true, what William said?”
“What did he tell you?” Helen seemed desperate for word of William.
“That Dugald stole you from the altar. Killed everyone, burned them alive.” Nelly said and watched as Ruth bowed her head and moved away.
“What else did he say?” Helen slipped out of her dress and pulled off the thin, blood-stained slip she had worn beneath.
“I should have brought you a bucket of water and a cloth,” Nelly said avoiding Helen’s question while noticing the dark patches of dried blood on her pale skin. “It’s no wonder Dugald lusts for you,” she continued looking at Helens fine figure. “You’re a looker.”
“What if Dugald doesn’t know that Helen escaped?” Ruth paced as Nelly helped Helen fit into a woolen garment.
“How do you suppose he won’t know? He’s going to marry her tonight,” Nelly remarked.
“I will take her place,” Ruth, devoid of emotion quietly moved to the base of the stone stairway.
“I may be me simple, and I mean no disrespect, but I think that Dugald will notice the difference.” Nelly chuckled as she pulled down the back of the dress. The two turned and saw Ruth naked. The blood stained tunic and Aberach’s hat lay in a heap on the floor. In her hand she held Helen’s wedding dress.
“Mother…” Helen was stopped by Ruth’s up-turned hand.
“I can give you life again.” Ruth’s head was twitching noticeably, and she seemed to be fighting an unseen enemy within.
“What’s going on?” Nelly looked at Ruth’s skinny scarred body and became nervous.
“She plans to jump,” Helen said.
“Can you tell me that you wouldn’t have had I not stopped you?” Ruth pulled on her daughter’s torn wedding gown and turned to Nelly. “Will you tie it for me?”
Nelly wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to be caught up in the middle of this. It was likely that Dugald was getting needed sleep before the wedding, but there was no guarantee. He could walk in and catch her.
Helen said nothing but walked behind her mother and tied the bodice of the gown. Then she picked up Aberach’s hat and her mother’s dress and rolled them together into a small ball.
“I used to watch swallows out of my prison window. They nested in the eves above. I would watch them soar, graceful…free. I longed to be free like the swallows. Will you pin the Gunn broach and Tartan sash?”
Nelly watched in disbelief as Helen, tears running freely down her cheeks, pinned the broach and sash onto her mother. Ruth put a hand to Helen’s cheek.
“I wish it had been different, all of it different. God has given us a chance to make it so.” Ruth suddenly grabbed her head with both hands and spun away from Helen. “Go, go now! Go on both of you get out! Get out now, for the love of God, out!”
Nelly didn’t need any further urging, but grabbed Helen by the hand and ran through the door. Panting in rhythm with her racing heart she took a moment to look at Helen. Still clutching the ball of clothing, she seemed to be in shock. “No offense intended, but your mother is quite mad.” Nelly closed and locked the door.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/487/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-3/feed/ 0 concluding chapters of Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/485/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-2/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/485/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-2/#comments Mon, 03 May 2010 05:18:55 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=485 #
Ruth pushed herself flat against the stone wall of the square entrance room. She didn’t dare look through the narrow archway that connected the two rooms for fear that Dugald would see her.
“Don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll be well cared for.” Dugald walked through the archway past Ruth hidden in the dark recess, and out the door which he closed and locked. Ruth felt panic at the sound of the lock being turned. She had heard that sound too many times. When finally out of Lachlan’s prison, she promised herself freedom, and yet here she was, locked in the tower room with Helen.
At that moment, Ruth would have welcomed the familiar voices in her head. They would give her guidance, but they were silent. The only voice was hers, conflicted and yet defiant in defense of her choice to involve Dugald. What unsettled her was the fear she felt confronting her daughter. The dark dampness of the recess seemed strangely comforting. It brought back memories. In truth she knew little else. Lachlan had to die. She thought it at first. “Lachlan had to die,” she whispered as if saying it might make Helen accept the fact that she had arranged her father’s death. She took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face her daughter.
A sharp scraping sound snapped Ruth’s attention back to the room. She stepped forward and was hit by a sudden burst of cold wet wind. The room was empty. Dust swirled with the wind that pushed through the open wooden door at the top of a narrow set of steps. Ruth ran across the room and up the stairs, ducking her head to avoid the low archway. She stepped out onto the small landing, pulling her coat tightly closed around her shielding off the fierce wind and rain.
Helen, silhouetted by the dim morning light, looked over the edge of the battlements. The wind tangled her long hair behind her head. She crossed her arms and stood at the edge as if to will the gusts of wind to blow her over.
“Come away, it’s a long way down.” Ruth’s voice seemed to startle Helen, who turned and looked at her with swollen downcast eyes. “There is no surviving those unforgiving rocks or the outgoing tide.” Ruth moved out of the shadows toward her daughter who did not move. “He’s come to save you,” Ruth said inching closer to Helen, “it will be a shame if he finds you broken on the rocks below.”
Helen looked up and took a step away from the rock battlements. “Nobody can save me. Who are you? How did you get in here?” Her voice was weak and devoid of emotion.
“Does it matter?”
“Who has come for me?” Helen seemed to be studying Ruth’s face and Ruth turned away.
“That young William, I saw his horse below, and was told by one of the servants that he arrived last night.”
“Ruth…?” Helen walked toward Ruth as the wind swirled around them.
“Can we go inside?” Ruth watched her daughter. “I’m cold. Are you not cold?”
Helen nodded, letting her mother enter back into the relative warmth of the tower room first. “You were part of this; you helped start this nightmare.” Helen pushed the wooden door closed and with a sudden shiver, wrung the rain water from her long hair, as she walked down the narrow stone stairway.
“Helen…”
At the bottom Helen spun around pointing a finger in Ruth’s face. “You planned for Keith to kill my father? Agnes said you did. At the church, she said it.”
“It had to be done.” Ruth sidestepped Helen and walked to the middle of the room.
“You are mad.”
“Helen, don’t say that about me.” Ruth felt a sudden return of anger and the mixed feelings that had occupied her for so many years.
“I have no mother.”
“Don’t say that! That is what he wanted you to believe, isn’t it?”
“How did you get up here?” Helen walked into the entry room and pulled on the locked door.
“I found my way. I am good at that.” Ruth put her hand to her eye. Something had started to make it blink uncontrollably.
“Well find your way out.” Helen sounded defiant.
“When you were very small Agnes used to bring you to see me.” Ruth rubbed her hands and arms. She suddenly felt very cold. “I always thought that when you grew older you would make your father let me out. Instead you stopped coming to see me altogether. Why?” Ruth’s head now started to twitch and somewhere deep inside her head she thought she could hear laughing.
Helen didn’t say anything, but looked toward the floor.
“I waited for you to come. Every day I would sit at the window hoping to see you. I would watch the mother swallows teaching their young to fly. I wanted that. Mother and child, free to fly. Do you have any idea how a mother feels to see another woman care for her child? It was Agnes’ arms that carried you. She is the one you cared about, not me. I had to watch you grow into a fine woman through a high prison window. I prayed that one day you would come and see your mother. But you never came.”
“I grew up believing I had no mother”
“I gave you life, Helen.” Ruth started to scratch an unstoppable itch on the back of her neck. “Do you love me, Helen?” Ruth pushed away a tear, flicking it angrily to the floor.
Helen nodded.
Like a fox on unsuspecting prey, the voices rushed back into Ruth’s head burying their teeth deep into her brain. Liar! Kill her! She’s as guilty as the rest of them. She kept you locked up and never came to see you! Kill her! “No, no, please God no.” Ruth held her head with her hands trying to force the voice out of her head.
Helen nervously moved away. “Ruth, I -”
“Mother! Damn you! I am your mother. Say it!” Ruth’s harshness and sudden anger made Helen stumble backward. “I am sorry… I don’t mean to frighten you. Can you, will you say it? Please say it. Call me your mother, and tell me you love me, it is the only thing that will silence these voices. I beg you.”
“Mother,” Helen said, “Agnes often spoke of you. Always kindly, and I did love the woman in her stories. But, I didn’t come to see you because father told me that you were, – unwell. He told me that you might hurt me if I went to your room.”
“He hurt me, Helen. He hurt me in ways that you cannot imagine. I would never hurt my own child. When the years went by I had only myself to talk to. Then the voices started. At first uninvited, until I willingly let them in. If only you had come to see me.”
“Mother, I don’t know what you want me to say. You tell me you would not hurt your own child and yet look what you have caused to happen.”
Ruth nodded, walking in small circles in the center of the room, her hand over her mouth. The clanking of the key in the lock of the door, scared them both, and Ruth crossed to Helen, and stood in front of her. “I gave you life once, and I can give you life again. I won’t let him hurt you, Helen.”

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/485/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont-2/feed/ 0 Concluding chapters Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/481/concluding-chapters-will-gunn-cont/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/481/concluding-chapters-will-gunn-cont/#comments Sun, 02 May 2010 16:17:15 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=481 #
“Do I scare you?” Dugald Keith walked slowly through the small square entranceway into the round tower room. Helen backed away, moving closer to a short stairway that led up to a thick wooden door. Beyond, the rising wind and rain whipping over a round landing and low stone wall, banged to get in. Dugald looked at the stairway and then back to Helen.
“There is no escape through there, just a long drop to the rocks and ocean below. Surely, life with me is better than death.”
Helen pulled her ripped, blood stained wedding gown around her, shivering from the cold. “Why am I here? So you can rape me?”
“Rape you?” Dugald’s right hand slipped beneath his tunic and his eyes flashed. “No. I don’t plan to rape you.”
“You are a murdering butcher and a liar. I don’t believe you.” Helen’s back was against the wall at the base of the stairs. “I would rather join the innocent souls you burned to death in the church than let you have me.”
A flash of anger caused Dugald’s neck to stiffen. His head pounded but he forced a smile.
“You will be my wife.”
“Never!”
“You will bear sons; Keith sons.” Dugald liked a woman with spirit. Helen excited him. He worked his hand beneath his tunic and smiled as Helen clenched her teeth and turned her eyes away. He stepped up to her and took his hand from his tunic. His left had held her chin and gently turned her head to face him. Then he took his right hand and passed his fingers along her trembling lip. “Go ahead, run up those stairs and throw yourself off the turret. There will be nothing left of you but that tattered dress and a few bones, when the crabs are finished.”
Helen tried to pull away, but his grip was strong. “I would rather die than let you… touch me.”
Dugald ground his teeth and fought the temptation to rip off her dress and take her right where she stood. He would try to treat her properly, for a time at least. Besides, she would be his wife by nightfall and then he could do whatever gave him pleasure. He smiled at the thought and nodded his head, letting her go. “I know you think you would, but you won’t.”
Helen backed up the stairs and Dugald took a small step forward. He was close enough to catch her if she was so stupid.
“Do you really believe that you can get away with this treachery?” Helen fought back her tears.
“Who is going to stop me?”
“William will stop you.” She wiped away a single tear that escaped her eye.
“Who is William?” Dugald belched. The stench of half-digested ale caused Helen to hide her face in the sleeve of her dress, and he grinned. “Tell me about this William, who will stop me from marrying you tonight.”
Helen was silent, no longer able to hold back her tears she sat on the first step, and covered her face.
Dugald stepped closer and reached out his hand to stroke her hair, but didn’t. “Did I mention that we are to wed tonight? I wanted you last night, I want you now, but I am not a savage.” He paused for her reaction, but she only glared and turned away. He licked his cracked lips. “If you will freely consent to this marriage and bear my children, I promise you that I will be your protector.” Yes, that sounded good. “You will come to no harm by my hand or that of any other. I will see to it that you will be treated, in every way, as a princess.” He turned his face fearful his eyes might betray him.
Helen remained silent for some time, her face buried in her hands.
“Well, what is your answer?” Dugald tried to hide his impatience.
“What is my answer?” Helen rose up and faced Dugald. “You killed almost everyone I love and you expect me to be your princess? Others from the Gunn clan will avenge the death of my father, Alexander, and the slaughter of those children and innocent men and women. Given half a chance I will do it myself. How will you sleep at night, knowing that your princess will, at the first opportunity, cut your throat? ”
Dugald kept silent for a moment. He had given a great deal of thought to that very concern. He would have to be on his guard. As for her kin, only James Gunn would pose a serious problem. James Gunn’s association with Henry Sinclair was not a trifle. But, there was the matter of Lachlan’s deal with the English. Dugald smiled. James Gunn would not want the clan name associated with treason. Neither would he start a clan war over the daughter of the traitor. As for those who perished in the fire, they were simply casualties of war.
“Your father was a traitor to Scotland. Your marriage to me will be a small price to pay for peace between our clans, especially if I stay silent about the deeds of your father. You may want to kill me now, but in time, you will come to love me.”
“Don’t hope for it.” Helen replied defiantly.
Dugald jumped past Helen, landing on the third step and quickly climbing to the wooden door. A flat iron bolt held it shut. He tugged on it. It was rusted shut, too hard for her to open. Satisfied, he walked back.
“I will have maidservants attend to you. They will bring you fresh clothes. I will make sure they are suitable and show off your, attributes.” Her scowling reaction caused Dugald to change his tone, “Warm of course, they will be warm and some food. You are hungry, surely.” Dugald smiled at her, but Helen turned away from him. Dugald looked at the woman who stood before him and wondered, only for a moment, why he didn’t force himself into her. He knew the reason. Helen was different from the others and he wanted her to like him. “You will be my princess, Helen, I promise you.” He turned away so that she could not see the lust flaring in his eyes.

]]> http://gordonfdwilson.com/481/concluding-chapters-will-gunn-cont/feed/ 0 Concluding chapters of Will Gunn cont… http://gordonfdwilson.com/476/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont/ http://gordonfdwilson.com/476/concluding-chapters-of-will-gunn-cont/#comments Sat, 01 May 2010 17:34:16 +0000 Gordon http://gordonfdwilson.com/?p=476 #
Ruth huddled against the cold not far from the servants’ gate at the base of the south tower. She had found cover under an overhanging rock part way up the steep hill into which the south wall of the castle had been built. Here she not only had shelter from the wind but also had a good view of the pathway that led to the servant’s gate.
When she first left the burning church she had tried to keep close behind Dugald and his cousins, but they rode much faster than she and soon were completely out of site. She kept riding north thinking herself quite lost until she found herself on the narrow coastal road which she knew led to Ackergill.
There had been only a few guards outside the castle when she arrived, not surprising given the weather and lateness of the hour. After a fit-full sleep she was awakened by a rooster perched high on a wooden beam near the gate. He crowed his song as if to will the sun to rise. The dark brewing storm clouds made any sight of the sun seemed unlikely.
Ruth looked out from her under her rocky shelter. Even at that distance, she recognized the horse. People were gathering outside the gate and one of them, a boy, led a horse she was sure she had seen before. From her vantage point half way up the rocky cliff, she watched. The clopping of hooves on the main path just below her perch turned her head. A group of twelve guardsmen rode at a walk toward the base of the tower, so she scrambled back. When they were safely passed she again took up her watch. Changing of the guard. She looked for the boy and horse; they were no longer in sight.
More people started to arrive, and sensing that the gate would soon open, Ruth made her way down the steep rock face. As she approached the gate, the guard split into three groups, six took up a position in front of the closed gate, while three others exchanged positions with the stable guards, leaving three to roam within the crowd. One in particular caused Ruth some concern as he seemed to have noticed her approach and was watching her intently.
“Hey you,” the guard called as he approached her but she kept walking. “Hold up a moment.”
Ruth stopped.
“Jacko, can I have a word?” The hoarse whisper distracted the guard just as he reached Ruth. A young girl approached him. Two older women kept walking toward the gate.
“Nelly, not now and not here,” the guard nervously replied. He looked around and then back to Ruth who stood silent, her hand upon her dagger.
Nelly pulled him aside, and Ruth strained to hear.
“I am waiting for my brother this morning, will you let him pass?” Nelly asked Jacko.
“You don’t say. Is he sober? Why would he come today?”
“You many not recognize him, but he is Fergus just the same,” Nelly said with a sly smile and a wink. “Of course if you don’t let us pass, I know something that will never pass between my legs again.”
The guard hunched down, took hold of Nelly by the arm and pulled her away from where Ruth was standing. Ruth sensed her opportunity and moved quickly toward the open gate. She was only two steps away from entering when a thick-fingered hand pulled her back.
“Who are you?”
“Jacko has already had his hands all over me, I suppose that you want to do the same? Not that I mind.” Ruth smiled at the man from beneath Aberach’s wilted hat.
The guard backed away, eyeing Ruth’s drenched, blood-stained rags with a cautious eye. “What is your business here?”
“Dugald is getting married; I am the mother of the bride!”
The guard looked shocked, confused, and then roared with laughter. “Aye, and I am the King of Scotland.” He roared so loud and for so long, that by the time he had come back to his senses, Ruth was in the castle and had made her way toward the service hallway, where she had caught up to one of the two older women who had approached the gate with Nelly.
Ruth grabbed Nelly’s mother from behind and with her dagger in the old woman’s neck pulled her into a recess in the long stone hallway so they were hidden from the servants who bustled past.
“Where is he keeping Helen Gunn?”
“What the hell is this?” the old woman choked against Ruth’s grip, her eyes searching down her cheek looking at the menacing blade.
“Just tell me where she is and you will live.”
“I mind my business. That’s what I do. Are you with the other man?”
“What other man?” Ruth thought about the horse. That’s where she had seen it. That horse belonged to William, but why was his horse with that boy?
“Last night, he was here…”
“Where is he now?” Ruth whispered in the woman’s ear. “Don’t anger me woman, or I will slit your throat. The man you saw last night. Is he in the castle? Did he get to Helen?”
The woman shook her head.
“Where is Dugald keeping Helen?” Ruth took hold of her captive’s hair, the knife still held ready to cut.
The woman pointed her crooked bony finger toward a narrow stone stairway. “He has her locked in the tower.”
Ruth eased up her hold. There was a time when the voices in her head would compel her to slice the woman’s throat, but the voices were silent now. “Where is the key?”
Nelly’s mother pointed toward a wooden rack of pegs at the end of the short hallway upon which a number of keys hung, and then she gasped.
“What is it?” Ruth tightened her hold again.
“It’s not there. The key is gone. He must have it. He must be with her now.”
Ruth let the woman go, and slowly, with purpose, climbed the stone stairs.

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