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336 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2006
The explanation as to why there should be a small tree preserved in the belly of Cawdor dates back to 1310, when William, the 2nd Thane of Cawdor, received a royal charter from Robert the Bruce to build a bigger fortification than his current castle, which guarded a boggy ford. Thane William’s first task was to study the surrounding district and find a location of improved strength, but in an unorthodox and seldom imitated move, he left this decision up to a donkey. William had had a vivid dream in which he was visited by a host of angels. They told him that he should place all his worldly goods in a chest and strap it to the back of a donkey; he must then allow it to wander freely all day and mark where it chose to rest for the night. If he built the castle on that spot, they said, it would prosper for ever. And who was he to doubt the word of angels? He followed their instructions. The donkey had been born without a gift for martial strategy, however, so the site it chose was unremarkable. The holly tree is where it lay down. I am conscious as I retell this slightly batty legend that I do so as fact. When my teacher spoke about family trees, I didn’t realize it was only a figure of speech. I assumed there were trees in the cellars of people’s houses everywhere. (9)There's a tremendous amount of history here—it's impossible to avoid, given the line into which Campbell was born—but also a sense of spiralling throughout. If Campbell's father was ever truly stable, it doesn't show here, but as she observes more than once, poorer people are given titles like 'alcoholic' while wealthier ones are given titles like 'eccentric' and, well, 'thane' and 'earl'.
On the southern battlement there was a medieval loo, a stone projection that jutted out from the vertical pitch of the tower walls with a little stone seat but no floor. If you peered between your knees you could see the courtyard far below. I never managed to pee down it; vertigo always gave me a stricture. (94)---
In fact, Hugh [her father] had it [inheritance] easy compared to some neighbours. My grandfather’s bracken-loving friend Jimmy Dunbar had stipulated in his will that his heir would not be entitled to any of his property or money until he had been witnessed crawling naked for several miles across rough country, for no reason other than Dunbar’s desire to humiliate. (133)---
Angelika took up Ma’s old habit of dressing in matching outfits with Hugh. She was a much more conservative dresser, so it was a cashmere jacket and the ubiquitous black polo-neck sweater rather than the floor-length velvet coats my mother used to wear. Issie Delves-Broughton, an observant stylist friend of ours, had noted the recurrence of this low-key uniform and one day came over for tea with twelve friends in two, having instructed each of them to dress in a black polo-neck as a silent joke. To their delight, Angelika and Hugh did not disappoint. Fifteen people stood sipping champagne in the Tower Room looking like a guild of jazz critics, their hosts appearing to notice nothing strange at all. (204)