Page Title

SEGOLENE

The young boy, Alexander Morgund Marr, by name, or "Lexie" as he was fondly known to his parents, walked languidly on the banks of Loch Lomond under a moonlit and windless night. The night smelt of the history of his homeland, Scotland, of wild heather, of the salt and freshness from the huge lake; of the bright eyes of owls hooting softly, so hidden from prying eyes, that only Lexie knew where the sounds emanated. The young boy was not afraid of the many stories that abounded, of ghosts hovering over Loch Lomond nor indeed the famous Lochness Monster. Many of his peers would disappear from this magical playground as the twilight hours beckoned but this was the time when Lexie felt the Loch and its surroundings were his private property. It was, above all, a place where he could indulge his passion for playing the flute and the wonderful sounds he was capable of producing from such a small instrument. In this ethereal landscape, the echo of his music spread over the Loch and clumps of trees on the smaller inlets and lakes. This was a haven where he did not have to think about going away to follow in his father's footsteps, his grandfather's, his greatfather's and even before that.

His music filled the tranquil Loch as he tried to shut out his parents' words or more precisely, his father's voice which still echoed in his head: "it is time for you to be an apprentice Lighthouse Keeper now, son."

Lexie was a tall and gangly fourteen year old with a head of auburn hair, smiling dark eyes and a penchant to dreaminess. Needless to say, he was the light of his parents' lives so it came as a shock when they insisted that it was now time to follow the family tradition in the Lighthouse keeping business.

He thought of hiding out here among the secret places within the rocks surrounding the Loch, or even running away to join the circus where he was convinced that he would be able to play his flute.

But in this heady and beautiful summer of 1850 in Loch Lomond, most children did not have a say in what career path they would choose, especially if they were lower down the strata of Scottish society.

The boy was now lost in the sweet sounds that emanated from his flute as he sat on a nearby rock and played just for his own amusement or so he thought.

Lexie did not realize that a smile would automatically spread over his face when he indulged in playing his flute and as the music undulated into the shadows, cracks and fissures, he thought he detected a figure of a young girl dancing way over in the distance.

He noticed that the dancing slim outline had very long and probably black hair and she moved in tune with the melody. Now his boyish curiosity was aroused and he walked slowly towards the young girl who delighted in the quick ballet movements. For a brief second the figure would wander directly under the moonlight, then suddenly she was in the shadows again. Lexie did not pay any attention to the two seals splashing about in the water but continued playing now with a rising tempo as he himself moved in and out of the moonlight.

The nearby trees added to the long shadows while the moon waxed between the dusky sky on this sultry summer's night. Lexie stopped playing but the figure of the girl nevertheless continued to dance with what seemed like a sort of abandonment, without cares or woes. The girl somehow sensed that someone was close by and just as Lexie was about to stand directly under the light of the moon so that he did not frighten her in anyway, she quickly leapt into one of the hidden fissures and cracks and seemingly disappeared. The only sound he heard were those of the splashing seals in the nearby Loch. The young boy wondered who the girl could be and many days after, he would frequently return to his private haven and play his flute in the hope that she would reappear amid the ancient and strange sounds that echoed from Loch Lomond. Indeed, sometimes the Loch seemed like glass and its hypnotic effect can and did play tricks with one's senses.

Once again, Lexie had to contemplate his future that was drawing so near each day and it seemed that only Ma as his mother Fiona was called by her son, understood that his dreams did not include being a Lighthouse Keeper. But dad had insisted and overruled Ma's fears: "Fiona, I am the master in my own house and Lexie must become a man and give up his foolhardy notion of poetry, songs and flute playing." The rich tones of Ernest's voice carried not only the sweet sound of the Scottish west coast but in some imperceptible way, all that the Marr family had believed in, including their denouement when an ancestor had raised his standard or flag for what was known as the Jacobite cause.

Ernest paused briefly to draw himself up to his full height of five feet ten inches tall, then said curtly: "it is the end of the matter."

But Lexie continued to harbour his dreams and even as the days, hours and minutes approached, like young people everywhere, he fantasized that something would suddenly solve his predicament. But not even his beloved Ma could change his father's mind.

The summer continued to draw to its timeless end and when it was reborn next year, new eyes will witness and experience Lexie's bitter sweet experience. His curiosity over the dancing girl had now turned into something that he felt he had to hold on to since he imagined his young life would be over as an apprentice Lighthouse Keeper. He started playing a mournful refrain on his flute as the lake lay still in the approaching soft darkness. Pockets of fog were suspended over the stillness. The full moon had also now appeared in its glory and the drama of the sheer beauty of Loch Lomond and his childhood years rolled over his mind like a spinning top. Lexie stopped playing and looked longingly again where the dancing girl was. He heard the familiar swishing noise close by the water's edge and glanced lazily at the family of seals that had recently appeared. Lexie's eyes caught an outline once again in the distance and he saw the young girl seemingly throw something into a darkened corner. Her silhouette skipped and jumped amid the rocks but such was the young boy's delight, he followed his instincts and dashed headlong towards the girl. He likewise did not see a huddled figure skulking around the lake, since his attention was now directed solely on the dancing girl and the splashing noise in the water.

A few moments later, the startled girl wearing what appeared to be some sort of animal skin was so shocked that when she tried to speak, no sounds emitted. Lexie did not see that she was strange looking to say the least, quite apart from her unusual apparel of what looked like a seal skin that had been carefully wrapped over her torso and thighs. The girl's huge brown eyes continued to stare at him in horror as her black hair blew in the soft wind.

"Please, please do not be afraid, I am Lexie Morgund Marr from Balloch." He smiled and extended his hand but she did not reciprocate.

Finally, the girl's frightened voice replied barely above a whisper: "Je m'appelle Segolene."

In Lexie's overwhelming joy at speaking to the young girl, he did not register that she had replied in French so he continued still smiling, "I saw you dancing the other night; this is my favourite place too." His west coast Scottish accent meant nothing to her either.

Her frightened face had now relaxed.

Lexie started to play a toe tapping ditty while she danced joyously once again; pirouetting, skipping, twirling, taking tiny steps, then fast, and finally an extravaganza of the polka.

They were now both of out of breath and collapsed on a piece of dewy grass but from across the water's edge a hushed voice called out: "Segolene, Segolene, tu as fini, maintenant? (Are you finished now?)

Segolene looked nervously around her while Lexie felt an inner joy meeting someone who delighted in his music, for apart from Ma, no one else encouraged the boy, frequently advising him that it was a waste of time or that one could not look after a family without "a proper trade."

The water had started splashing again and this time there was no way Lexie and Segolene could have ignored the now urgent call.

"Je suis ici, François." Segolene whispered towards the water's edge.

Now Lexie was totally confused because he had slowly emerged from his starry eyed bubble and realised Segolene was speaking French. He knew this because his mother Fiona had scrimped and saved so that her beloved son would "know his letters and even some foreign words too," as she described it. Parents like Fiona who had bright children with enquiring minds like Lexie had to pay privately for their children to be educated since for those people with more pressing economic needs, education would be far from their minds. Therefore, Lexie was fortunate because his father Ernest received a steady income as a Master Lighthouse Keeper and through astute household management by Ma, the boy received a standard of education which was not generally shared by his friends in Balloch. Some neighbours even gossiped against Fiona that she was giving herself airs and graces because she was so ambitious for Lexie. But Ernest had finally called a halt and had insisted that the boy follow him as a Lighthouse Keeper. Thus, Lexie's fate was sealed, or so Ernest thought.

"Who are you talking to?" Lexie started but then said as he searched for the unfamiliar words of the French he was taught by an ancient foreign gentleman by the name of Monsieur Toulouse de Marigny. He lived in an even smaller house than the Marr family and there was a rumour ever since Lexie was a boy that old Monsieur was in fact an aristocrat who had escaped with his life during the revolution of 1789 in his native France. But Ernest would often sniff at this tittle tattle, straighten the newspaper he was reading and reply: "och, if he were an aristocrat why on earth would he choose Balloch to live."

"Est-ce-qui tu est parlant, Segolene?"

The splashing continued and a voice called "Segolene, c'est François, allez maintenant!" (It is Francis, let's go now!)

"C'est mon freres, François et Pierre"

"Your brothers, François and Pierre!" Lexie exclaimed incredulously.

The splashing had stopped but Segolene had the look of a frightened animal that was cornered. Her dark eyes darted everywhere except to look at Lexie.

"Och, s'enferier," (it does not matter).

us prendront chez-tu?" (They will take you home?)

The moonlight was now shining directly over Segolene and Lexie could see how frightened she looked as if afraid to speak. She would start to say something and then stop, shake her head and look away.

Lexie took Segolene's hand, "Qu-est-ce que?" He asked, now concerned that the girl was shaking with fear.

"Au revoir, Lexie, je dois partir." Segolene pushed her new friend away as she said goodbye.

"Je tu verrai demain." (I will see you tomorrow). The boy was now confused because Segolene had pushed him away and the splashing near the lake had started again. Once again, he also dismissed the figure that dashed from rock to rock since his mind was now on Segolene.

His new soul mate who loved music and dancing had darted into one of the cracks of the various rocks that surrounded Loch Lomond. The shadows had now given way to an ethereal feeling around his boyhood haunt. The spindly trees cast shadows across the lake while branches on the trees blew violently in the sudden gust of wind. Lexie had started walking back towards his home but he had to get another glimpse of Segolene.

But all he saw were two seals close to the rocks of the lake while another slid towards them...