I knew she was not real. I must have imagined her, yet she was vaguely familiar although I had never seen her face. The fact that we held a conversation was the most unsettling of all for not only had I seen her, she had also seen me.

  'Ready, girls?' Kate scraped her right foot on the ground, with the nails in her boots raising bright sparks.

  'Ready,' we replied in unison.

  After the rain of the previous day, the scree within the gully was damp and slippery, so we slithered upward, using our hands nearly as often as our feet. Kate set a fast pace, throwing herself upward as if it was a race although by that time only Charlie was concerned about beating the two men to the summit, or even thought about the men at all. After Mahoney's journal, I felt that any ascent of An Cailleach would count as a notable success. Twice I gasped as my ankles turned on the scree and I blessed my stout boots. I wondered how the old Highlanders had lived in this environment dressed in the great plaid and only brogues on their feet. They must have been an active, fit race of women and men.

  Little spiders ran hither and yon among the scree, racing away from these monsters that had invaded their territory. I wondered vaguely if they had stories of strange giant creatures as they gathered together in their webs, or if it was only humanity who harboured such imaginative fancies.

  The scree ended in a stretch of heather-and –glacial rocks that was much easier to ascend. There were patches of brilliant green bog between the rocks, and the hum of insects that clouded around us, seeking blood or salt or whatever it is that these biting creatures feed on.

  'Blasted midges,' Lorna flapped her hands around in a vain attempt to free herself from the increasing hordes.

  'Scotland's last line of defence,' Mary said. 'My father told me that when the Ninth Legion of Romans came here, the midges got under their armour and they were so itchy they all jumped into a loch and drowned.'

  'I can see why!' Lorna said. 'We should have used midges against the Huns rather than poison gas. It's more effective.'

  'Look!' Christine pointed upwards. 'Is that an eagle?'

  'Two eagles,' Charlie said. 'They're circling us.'

  Although the birds were high up, it was evident that they were huge. They circled Bein a Ghlo and descended, still flying in spirals, until we had a clear view of them.

  'Mahoney's journal mentioned that he saw eagles,' Lorna said.

  'I remember,' Kate was short. 'They won't bother us.'

  A slight wind rose from the west, strong enough to drive away the midges and dry our perspiration without being in the slightest bit uncomfortable. We moved on, with the eagles circling closer until we could make out the individual feathers and the predatory eyes. Every time I had seen eagles before, they had been tiny specks in the distance. Only now did I see how large they were, and how dangerous they looked.

  'Do you remember that story Duncan Og told us in the inn?' I asked.

  'Who?' Charlie was paying more attention to the eagles than to me. 'Oh, that old man. I remember.'

  'He told us about two witches that turned into eagles.'

  'Do you think these two are witches?' Charlie grinned. 'I thought witches flew on broomsticks and had pointed hats.'

  I thought of the happenings of last night. 'No,' I said. 'I don't think these two are witches. I just think it's a bit of a coincidence that Duncan Og mentioned two eagles and here we have two eagles.'

  'One flew to Badenoch,' Charlie said. 'So they wouldn't both be here.'

  Mary was beside us, fingering her rowan cross as she watched the eagles. 'I've never known eagles to come so near to people,' she said. 'I don't like them at the best of times.'

  We halted at the base of the cliff, looking for the best ascent. 'Normally one has a named route to follow,' Kate said. 'Here we must make our own.'

  'All the better,' Charlie tapped the rock. 'We'll name it Suffrage Ascension.'

  'That's a bit of a mouthful,' Mary said. 'How about Women's Success?'

  'Let's get up first,' Kate said. 'We can play with names later.'

  'Over here,' Lorna shouted. 'There's a rope up the face.'

  'We're not first then,' Charlie did not hide her disappointment.

  The ropes stretched from the foot of the cliff to the top of the overhang, secured by a series of eye bolts that had been fastened into the rock.

  'These two men have already been here.' Kate said.

  'No.' Lorna tugged at the double rope. 'This line has been here for some time. It's worn and jaded. I would not trust it.'

  'The two men did not come this way,' I reminded. 'They headed to the West face. I would guess that the Mahoney expedition left this rope. We know they came this way.'

  I pictured the scene, Mahoney, Bill and Adam standing where we stood, hammering in the eye bolts, attaching the rope and launching themselves up this cliff. I could nearly hear the clink of hammer on steel and smell the sweet tobacco of their pipes. I touched Kate on the arm. 'Are you all right?'

  'Of course,' Kate laughed. 'How secure are the pitons?'

  'They're pure steel,' Lorna pulled at the first two. 'As solid as they were the day they were put in.'

  'We'll trust them then,' Kate said.

  'We'll use our own ropes, though,' Lorna decided for us. 'These old ropes are frayed and dangerous.' She cut through the original line, attached one of ours and pulled it through the eye bolts. 'These lads knew their business,' she said.

  'I'll go up first,' Kate announced.

  Nobody argued. Kate was following her brother's footsteps. Kate was our leader; Kate had the right to lead. She started slowly until she was sure of the stability of the pitons.

  'They're perfectly secure,' Kate called out and swarmed up without looking down, eased herself over the overhang and vanished from our view.

  'Easy as pie,' Kate called down. 'Who's next?'

  'Me,' Charlie tested the rope first and pulled herself up, finding hand and footholds that soon had her beside Kate.

  'You go next,' I said to Christine.

  'I've never gone up a rope,' Christine whispered.

  'You hold the rope and walk up the cliff,' I said. 'I'll come with you.' I hoped that the rope would sustain our combined weight.

  'Yes, Brenda.' Christine said quietly. I tried to jolly her along.

  'On the count of three; one, two, and three and off we go.'

  Christine took hold of the rope in hands that appeared far too white and delicate for such an operation. Throwing me a nervous smile over her shoulder, she began to climb. I gave her a head start and followed.

  She walked herself up, gasping and hesitant but without major difficulty until she reached the overhang, where she stopped. I felt the drop pulling at us, enticing us downward.

  'On you go,' I encouraged. 'We're roped together, so there is no danger.'

  'Yes, Brenda,' Christine said.

  I watched as she hauled herself up, following the moment she reached the most critical section of the climb when she was momentarily semi-horizontal with a void behind her. She stopped, gasping, as she hung over the drop, so I came behind her. I have no love for overhangs myself. I took a deep breath.

  'One more effort,' I tried to sound as cheerful as I could, and then Lorna was pulling Christine up, I scrambled over, and we were on a spacious ledge with the wind caressing the sweat from our faces and the hills of the Rough Bounds rising before us. I saw the shoulder of An Cailleach, with mist hiding her profile like the veil of a bride on her wedding day.

  'That wasn't so bad,' Lorna said as Christine took deep breaths to control her nerves.

  'Maybe not for you,' I viewed the next stage in our assault on An Cailleach. The slopes of Bein a Ghlo rose rocky and steep to a sharp, skyward thrusting pinnacle. Even as I watched, mist formed, blotting the summit from view. Closer to hand a tiny alpine willow somehow braved the ever-present wind.

  Christine knelt beside it. 'Salix herbacea,' she breathed. 'Isn't it lovely?'

  Kate frowned. 'We've no time for flowers. We've got a hill to climb.'

  Christine stood up as we studied the route ahead. As quickly as it had arrived, the summit mist dissipated, giving us an open view of our initial destination. An Cailleach taunted us, showing us herself in part, daring us to approach and drawing her misty mask so we could not see everything, a teasing virgin on her wedding night, offering herself and pulling back again.

  'All we have to do is scramble up this hill and cross the saddle between Bein a Ghlo and An Cailleach,' Kate said. 'We can rest at the Shelter Stone and then it's a wee climb, and we're there. All Sir Garnet, as Adam used to say.'

  Charlie was standing on the ledge, drawing us all with her forehead wrinkled in concentration. 'When you're ready, ladies, we'll be on our way.'

  Kate stamped her boots on the ground. 'Follow me, girls!'

  The summit of Bein a Ghlo was a bit of a disappointment, an ice-smoothed ridge with a pinnacle of rock that was less impressive close-up than it had seemed from a distance. With An Cailleach waiting for us, we did not feel any elation, only a sensation that the real challenge lay ahead. The old folk knew their stuff when naming hills, for mist surrounded us, slow swirling to obscure anything except the most slender of views.

  To the west, the mist rose and fell, revealing a glimmer of gold as the afternoon sun illuminated the fringes of the cloud. I did not feel the breath of wind that parted the mist to unexpectedly show us our route. The saddle stretched between Bein a Ghlo and An Cailleach in a knife-edge, curving ridge with chunks of broken granite littering the top and patches of mist drifting this way and that as the wind gusted and faded. One persistent cloud hovered halfway across, where the curve of the saddle was most pronounced. Beyond that, it sloped downward so we would lose height and have to climb all over again.

  'That doesn't look too bad,' Lorna gave her opinion. 'All we have to do is hold our nerves and don't fall.'

  Charlie tapped her stick on the ridge. 'It's secure as the Castle Rock. This has been an easy climb so far.'

  I looked across the saddle, with mist boiling and writhing in the hidden vastness below. An Cailleach was showing her face, beckoning us onward. As Charlie had said, it had been easy so far. I still did not understand why nobody had ever conquered the old hag.

  'Follow me, girls,' Kate stepped boldly forward, stamped her feet to prove the ground was firm and strode on. She dislodged a tiny flake of granite that fell into the mist without a sound.

  'You next, Charlie,' Lorna said, 'then Mary and Christine. Brenda and I will be the backmarkers.' Christine was in the middle, the safest place, with experienced women in front to trail-blaze the route, and behind to ensure she did not get into trouble. Lorna was looking after the youngest member of our party.

  By the time I stepped onto the saddle, Kate was a good thirty yards in front and making good progress. The ridge sloped slightly on the western side, where the ocean wind had eroded the surface, so I kept to the very top, careful that I did not slip into the unseen depths below. I say unseen because a dense mist concealed the valley beneath us on either side. It felt as though we were walking along a stone bridge above a shifting grey mass of cloud.

  'This isn't too bad,' Christine spoke over her shoulder, echoing my earlier thoughts. 'I don't know why An Cailleach hasn't been climbed before.'

  With every hill in Scotland conquered, and women and men scaling the Alpine peaks as if they were mere lumps on the countryside, An Cailleach should present no problem. I shrugged; perhaps it was because it was so easy that the climbers had not bothered. There was no challenge to serious mountaineers, and An Cailleach was too difficult to access for the casual day wanderer.

  'We're not there yet,' Lorna warned. 'You pay attention where you put your feet, Christine. Take it one step at a time.'

  'Yes, Lorna,' Christine obeyed. I heard the scream of an eagle echoing through the mist. There was no other sound except the steady thump of our boots and the irregular tapping of our staffs. On one occasion, a drift of the wind brought us the rush of a burn or a waterfall from far below.

  Up ahead, Kate vanished into the bank of perpetual mist. Charlie followed, and then Mary. I saw Christine hesitate.

  'I'm right behind you, Christine.' I kept my voice cheerful.

  We entered the mist together with the cold clamminess enfolding us like a mother's arms, distorting sound, diminishing vision and reducing the temperature. I could see Christine as a dim figure shuffling ahead, and had a very vague view of Mary, while the two women in front had entirely vanished in that shockingly dense mist.

  'Mary, Brenda…' Christine's voice wavered. 'Are you there?'

  'We're still here,' I called out in false jollity. I fought my desire to reach out and touch Christine's shoulder, knowing that she might start. I had a terrifying vision of her sliding over the edge and vanishing into the mist.

  We were moving slower now, feeling our way along that treacherous ridge with the hellish drop on either side.

  'Stop!' Kate's voice called out, clarion-clear from the front. 'There's a gap here. We can't go any further.'

  Chapter Six

  I felt Charlie's dismay. 'I'm not giving up,' she said.

  'We must if Kate says so.' Christine did not sound too disappointed.

  'Let me see.' Lorna had caught up with me. 'Stand aside ladies, and I'll squeeze past you.'

  I did as Lorna asked; although how she managed to inch past on that narrow ridge I will never know. Lorna was like that; she remained at the background until times of need and then she was there, quiet and competent. She stepped to the front, and I joined them, although Charlie was far more experienced in the hills than I was.

  The ridge curved ahead for another ten yards and then abruptly fell away in a great cleft, as though one of the Norse Gods had taken his axe and cloven the solid rock with a single mighty chop. With the mist so thick, we could not see how far the gap extended. Somewhere above us, the eagle screamed again as if in mockery.

  'That's awkward,' Lorna said. 'Maybe we could climb down and up the other side.'

  We craned our necks to look. The ridge fell away in a vertical drop, smooth as glass until it vanished into the mist. Grey-white tendrils snaked around us, writhing and coiling at our feet.

  'I can't see a single hold,' Kate said. 'Does anybody have any ideas?'

  I kept silent. If experienced climbers such as Lorna and Kate were baffled, I had nothing to contribute. Lorna got down on her hands and knees. 'If only this mist would clear,' she said. 'Wait now! Just look down there.'

  We looked where Lorna indicated. Set into the rock was a sturdy pair of pitons, both holding a length of rope that stretched across the gap into the unknown.

  'How on earth did we miss that?' Kate asked.

  'Goodness knows,' Lorna got to her feet. 'One minute I saw nothing and the next it seemed to appear. The mist must have hidden it.'

  'What is it?' Christine asked.

  'A rope bridge, silly,' Kate said. 'Adam and I used to make them between trees in the grounds of the house.'

  'Oh how I wish we had grounds like that,' Mary said. 'On land stolen from the peasants, no doubt.'

  'Shoosh, Mary,' Lorna threw her a frown. 'Carry on, Kate.'

  'One has to balance on one's hands and knees and drag oneself over,' Kate ignored Mary's comments.

  'I don't fancy that much,' Charlie peered into the mist. 'I can't even see how far it goes.'

  'Oh, it's easy enough,' Kate said. 'Once you have your balance you just carry on. The only thing is, don't look down.' She smiled. 'Adam and I used to throw stones at each other when we were in the middle.'

  'I can imagine that,' Mary said.

  'You two were close, weren't you?' Charlie asked.

  Kate shrugged and said nothing.

  'How secure is that rope?' Lorna asked. Before we could reply she had slid down to the nearest piton and taken told of the line. 'It's in surprisingly good condition,' Lorna said. 'The rope is hardly worn at all.'

  The vision came unbidden. I saw three men working away, one hammering in the pitons and the others attaching the rope. They were laughing, enjoying themselves as they worked. The tallest man wore a tweed jacket and had a pipe at the side of his mouth, around which he gave cheerful orders.

  'The Mahoney expedition,' I said.

  'It could be nobody else,' Kate agreed. 'If Adam secured it, then it will stay secure, and the rope will be of the finest quality.'

  'Of course,' Mary said.

  Charlie took out her notebook and began to sketch the slender rope bridge. 'This will bring more drama to my article.'

  'Oh, hang your article,' Mary said.

  Lorna stared across the void. 'I think I can see the far side. It's not too far away.'

  'Let me see,' Kate scrambled to her side. 'Oh. Yes,' she said and threw us a massive grin. 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained, girls!' Pushing her stick through the straps of her rucksack and without another word, she crouched on the twin ropes, pushed herself forward and began to crawl along. 'This is like the old days!'

  'Be careful,' Lorna shouted as we watched her vanish into the mist.

  'We're lucky there's no wind,' Lorna said. 'I'd hate to try this in a gale.'

  'Thank God for small mercies,' Mary said. 'I can't even see Kate now.'

  We waited for Kate to cross, holding our breaths and biting our lips. I am sure that Christine's mouth moved in silent prayer, although for what outcome I was not sure. After what seemed like hours but was probably only five or ten minutes, Kate's voice sounded.

  'It's safe as houses, girls! About forty yards and you're on the far side, and the saddle continues. Who's next?'

  'Me,' Charlie said at once, tucking away her notebook.

  'If I were a giant I would cross in a single step,' Christine said.

 

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