As the evening light fades on the Highlands, they gather around the table and say grace.A single candle on the table,heads bowed,hands folded at the heart,the family sits togetherfor their meal of turnip soup and barley bread.The elder begins the prayer of thanks for sturdy walls against the northern winds,for sheep safely gathered,for warm food on the tableand for the pit fire heating the cottage’s single room. Today, the landlord came to collect his due.He rode with his bailiff and two sturdy highland ponies, as always in late summer.He had been demanding and arrogant,noticing another mouth to feed when the child cried for his mother's milk.But he left satisfied with…