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Blood of the Clans

By: RoyceConnors



Chapter 1

April 1589 -- Loch Leven

The drenching rains fell heavy as they often do in spring, in the western highlands of Scotland. Through the trees in the early morning, grey haze, a flash of lightning illuminated the murderous eyes of a small army of clansmen peering upon the sleeping village. The evil in the eyes of the leader showed the mindset on carrying out the events about to happen. 

They made their way into Ballachulish on the south shores of Loch Leven, the thrumming of rain on rooftops and puddles, covering their sound. Claymores, dirks and axes at the ready, the filthy, sodden men in poor highland garb, waited for the leader's signal, then entered one dwelling after another, slaughtering all who were inside, save a few young women for the men to enjoy later, the spoils of their one-sided war. Men and women, elderly and babies, any who lay sleeping in their beds, had their dreams and lives smashed from their skulls, staining the bed robes with lifeblood, the result of one man's greed. 

Screams of terror pealed into the damp air, as blades continued to wipe away any sign of life in the village. Before the wan, morning sun had made an attempt to brighten the gloom, only nine souls of Ballachulish were still alive. One soul, Callum McInnis, had secreted himself out of the village to safety, then skulked away in silence and regret to tell of what happened, while the other eight would soon wish their lives hadn't been spared. 

One of those eight was Mary MacKinnon, a season left to be eighteen years, who lived with her parents in the small village and worked the kelp with them. Till today, her life was spent dreaming of marriage and children of her own and a good man to call her husband. One man who held her favour as that choice, was Callum, who now watched in dread, as her sod hut was entered by four men. 

Standing now in front of the low fire in the hearth, with four vile men, had left her paralysed with fear and apprehension. In the dim light, she saw the glimmer of light play on the pools of blood trailing from her parents bed, her stomach churning at the sight. A bright flash came up to her face, the glint off sharp steel running along the razor edge caught her attention and quickened her breath, filling her with fear. The soaking stench of the man consumed her with disgust, but the hand catching her nightdress brought about great dread. It took only a few seconds of keen slicing and Mary felt all the shame she had ever known, yet it wasn't close to how she would feel by the end of her ordeal. Her rounded breasts flushed fast and hard, as her embarrassment soared further, her unknown body about to be plundered for its wealth.

Lust-starved eyes gazed at her for a moment, taking in the prize for victory, before rough, bloody hands grabbed her arms and held her fast. The one before her held his hands out and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard, feeling the youthful firmness. In painful re-action, Mary kicked out and caught the man in his groin, stopping him instantly, but only for a moment. In as fast a response, Mary saw the world disappear and become a blurry smear of blood, as his fist brought her face into excruciating pain, by shattering her nose. 

With the fight taken out of her, her head reeling from the blow, Mary barely felt her legs being kicked apart, a rough hand pawing at her virginal sex and then her once prized maidenhead, shattered in searing pain. The feel of his manhood inside her, left her filled with such disgust, that her stomach emptied last night's meal, the sight not even discouraging her violator's needs, as he brought himself to fulfilment. The feeling of his hot seed filling her womb made her feel damned for eternity and the brief moment of him withdrawing, gave her a sense of relief, only to be repeated shortly once again.

She was passed to the next, bent over retching and entered once again in demanded fulfilment by a hardened appendage. In the far off recesses of her consciousness, she could hear the others crying out their pain at their own defilement, adding to her misery, as she knew who they might be. Her head was raised by a handful of her hair and she saw the remains of her virginity coating the still hard cock of her first violator, before he forced it into her mouth and made her clean it and she knew there was no redemption for her soul. 

Once more she felt the wretched warmth coating her inside and her mind submitted, giving over to their needs without protest, as she waited for the finish to it and her desired death, to rid her of the shame and humiliation her life had just become. A huge man with long, unkempt, brown hair and beard, soaked from the rain, stood in the doorway, his cloak and kilt dripping with rain and blood, watching the men enjoy themselves and smiled. He looked at the naked, young girl and hoped she lasted long enough to satisfy his men's needs. This village was now in dire need of young women to serve them and do work, but there was no worry of it. There were plenty of small communes of farms and fishing villages around the area to acquire women of the right age for their purposes. There wasn't a worry of protest from any of their fathers or husbands, as death was measured out in consequence of their actions if they did.

James MacRae, leader of the MacRae clan, laughed, as he watched his men enjoying themselves defiling and humiliating the young woman. He waited till every man had his fill of sex, fuelled by blood lust, then had them collect the bodies and limbs and pile them in the shoddily constructed hay loft. The eight, young girls, naked and violated, were brought to watch their savagely killed families be disposed of, despite their pleas for mercy to be spared such a sight. 

As the rains subsided, the men tossed their torches around the inside of the building and in no time, it was engulfed in flames. Mary saw the bloodied faces of her parents among the growing flames and without anything more than a moment's thought, wrenched herself free and ran for the hayloft and into the burning pyre where her parents were, engulfing her bare, defiled body in flames. No honour or respect was paid to the dead by them. Once killed by their hands, disposal of their bodies was the only thing they desired to do. James laughed at what he saw her do, then heard the terrified screams from the other girls and laughed harder, before walking away from the inferno. The meagre possessions found, were divided among the invading clan, supplying the profits of battle that was now theirs to claim as won. 

James looked about at the new lands of the MacRae's and felt powerful. They had been without a land of their own for hundreds of years, never having enough of a force of their own to maintain a hold on their once prized castle and Seat of Power. After joining with several other small clans, James MacRae had amassed an army of four hundred and fifty men, looking for a place to call home. Ballachulish would do for now, but James MacRae wanted a castle and had one in mind. A three day march to the north, would find them at the bridge to Eilean Donan, once a place they called home. 

Five days passed and the peaceful village had become a place of evil, as young women were brought in by any means, to serve the men's needs. Any who tried to escape were stripped bare and flogged publicly in front of the others to show them what awaited, should the idea of escaping cross their minds.

One unfortunate soul was hanging unconscious from a tree limb by her hands, barely alive, her naked body covered in striped welts from her breasts to her thighs, front and back. Blood oozed from numerous stripes, making crisscrossing rivulets down her body. Flies and other insects flitted about her body, feasting on her life force, as she clung to life. No one cared that she had only been married for a month and was now with child. Her purpose was to serve and she disobeyed.

Three men set out on horse back, led by Blair MacRae and passed her suspended body as they rode out of the village. Their purpose was to watch and take note of what happened at the castle, the way they had here in this place. Covertly, they observed the daily routines of the MacDonnell's for two weeks, as they went about their lives, unaware they were about to be changed and thrown into bloody battle. They had met Laird Hamish MacDonnell, his wife Lady Anne and their children, telling them how grand their castle was and what a fine clan they were, one they would be proud to be kin to. 

Once satisfied with enough information, Blair and the men rode back to Ballachulish and reported to his father what they had seen. With only twelve men guarding the castle, they could surprise them with an early morning raid and take control, while most were still abed. Two days from now was market time and the gates would be opened early for villagers bringing crops and livestock in to pay for taxes, or sell and trade. 

MacRae took no time to assemble the men and start the three day march north, while Blair and nineteen others sailed a stolen birlinn out of Loch Leven, then south along Loch Linnhe. Their goal was to reach Donan in the night and wait in ambush till the gates opened. The advancing force would secret into the castle and take it over by surprise, the defenceless MacDonnell's being taken with their guard down. If they took it, they knew they could hold it until James and the army came and secured it. Once in, they were never going to leave again.

Blood of the Clans Ch. 02



April 2010 - Toronto, Ontario - Canada

The black, Cadillac limousine pulled up outside the CN Tower and the uniformed driver came around to let the young couple out. The tall, dark haired man smiled, as he thanked the driver, then took the hand of the pretty, strawberry blonde, haired woman beside him and walked towards the towering spire. 

Once the tallest structure in the world, it still held a great attraction to locals and visitors alike. The spring breeze off the lake wafted Deb's light dress about her legs, threatening to lift it up and expose them, so Tom blew hard in hopes it would happen. Deb laughed and mockingly chided him for being so naughty, as they approached the tower entrance. They joined others waiting to go up and rode the outside, glass elevator car higher and higher, watching the ground fall away beneath them. 

Tom put his hand around Deb's waist and held her closer to him, as she looked up and smiled at him, then gently leaned her head over enough to rest it on his shoulder. The scenery of the view held the passengers in awe, as it rose over eleven hundred feet to the observation deck, so Tom slowly let his hand fall, until it was resting squarely over the firm, roundness of Deb's ass cheek and gently squeezed it. Deb put her hand over his to move it and looked up at him with a look of surprise. Before she could decide, his lips met hers and he kissed her softly, making her take her hand away and place it softly on his cheek instead. 

When the car stopped, they disembarked and walked around the windows that looked out in every direction. They stood facing north-west and searched through the viewer, for where they lived and made out familiar landmarks close to where their own apartment buildings were. They scanned the distant horizon and saw the sprawl of suburban growth, then the airport, Lester B. Pearson International, where their journey to Scotland and an unknown past would soon begin. Once the time ran out on the viewer, Tom led her over to the glass observation floor, but it was too scary a prospect for Debra to stand on, so Tom boldly stepped on and did a little soft-shoe dance to show it was safe and then got off, laughing at Deb's fears it would break and he would plummet more than a thousand feet to his death.

Thomas William MacLeod, was now a twenty six year old business executive, working with his late father's company as their Marketing VP and after telling his immediate boss and family friend, Bobby Pollock, about his plans to get engaged, he was given the use of the company limo for the night and dinner on Bobby's expense account. 

As he stood with Debra Ann McRae, just a year younger than himself, his girlfriend of three years and neighbourhood friend since he was nine, when he had moved from Scotland to Toronto, he realized the happiness he had been looking for with other women, had been with Deb from the beginning. They had dated other people all through school and after, but ended up realizing how much more than a friendship they shared together. Deb was never in want of a date, as she had the looks and body to pose for men's magazines, but knew it was only her physical assests that attracted most men to her. 

She had succeeded in convincing her employer, luckily being a woman in charge of hiring, that she had talent and brains to go with the rest of the package and was now regional manager for a large department store chain, with an eye to going further up the ladder soon. It was at her celebration party for her promotion, that Tom ran into her and ended up joining the party at the club. After dancing a few dances together and then sharing a slow intimate one, Tom looked into Deb's eyes and knew there was more than just a love of friends between them. He knew in his heart he loved her more than a friend and without another pause, leaned forward and kissed her lips for the first time.

He enjoyed many kisses since and happiness has ruled their lives since. Tom's mother had said long ago they'd be good together and Deb's parents agreed. Living several doors down from each other, Tom and Deb's parents were friends since they arrived, celebrating many occassions and events together and were devastated when Tom's father, Hugh, was killed in an accident by a drunk driver who had ran a red light and drove into the driver side door at over sixty miles an hour. 

It bothered everyone how the guilty should live and the innocent should die, but the driver suffered only minor injuries and spent fifteen years of his life behind bars, then prohibited from ever driving again in Ontario. He remembered how they had drifted apart after that, but always remained friends, just not as close as before. Deb's parents, Jim and Vera, remained close with his mother, Margeret, continuing the traditions they had established and inviting her along on vacations as well.

Without realizing it, he pulled her closer to him and she snuggled in to him in response. As they looked at the panorama surrounding them, Tom couldn't help but notice the Toronto Blue Jays playing against the Chicago White Sox in the Skydome/Roger's Centre at the foot of the tower. The roof was open and the teams could be seen playing the home opening game of the season. The stands were filled and the popping of camera flashes brought a twinkling to the scene. Tom secretly wished they were doing this some other day, so he could be down there like he wished he could be. 

He watched a few plays and enjoyed the chance at seeing two runs come in for the Jays, before Deb had to let him know their reservation time was coming up. Reluctantly he left his Jays at bat and they rode the elevator up another level. They exited into the entrance of The 360, the revolving restaurant that overlooked a magnificent panorama of the city and lake, just as the sun was starting to set.

Tom announced to the maitre d' who he was and was quickly ushered to a window seat for two. Tom shook his hand after sitting Debra, leaving a folded fifty dollar bill in it discreetly, for the service he requested for his special night.

In moments, their waiter appeared and laid their napkins over their laps, as he filled their glasses with water. He told them politely he would be right back and hurried off to the service area. The door had barely closed and he was back through with a silver icebucket and stand, along with a botlle of Krystal chilling in it. He proficiently unwrapped the seal and twisted the cork out with a gentle pop, before he filled two champaigne flutes and snugged the bottle back into the ice again. 

After the waiter left, Tom picked up his glass and raised it to Debra, then she picked her glass up and held it to his, waiting for his toast. She was smiling happily at him for the treatment and the service being shown to them so far and he smiled happily back to her, knowing it would be a happier smile shortly.

"A toast to my beautiful Debra. It's been three of the best years of my life. I can only say this, I wish I had of asked you out long ago." 

"Oh, Tom, thank you, me too, three of the best. I wish we had of gone out earlier too, but it doesn't matter now. What matters is that we're together and I've never been happier." she told him in her soft voice, filled with joy bursting to spill out, her eyes sparkling in the soft light.

They touched glasses, making a small, clinking sound, before they sipped the bubbly in toast, their eyes locked to each others. 

"Babe, you know we're going to Scotland next month to my clan reunion, right?" to which 

Deb smiled and nodded her head. 

The look of anxious expectation was written across her face, as she waited for him to finish. She saw the deep look of love in his eyes and knew he was going to say something romantic

"It would be my honour if you went with me, as my fiancee" Tom said, as he reached into his pocket and took out a small, dark blue, velvet box and held it open to Deb. 

He moved to the window side of the table, so he could genuflect on his knee discreetly and presented it to her. The sparkling diamond and setting caught her eyes and tears began to well in them, as Tom took the ring from the box and held Debra's left hand in his. As he held it to her ring finger, he looked into her eyes, as she looked into his, emotion spilling from them both.

"Will you marry me, Debra McRae?" 

Deb's tears pooled and ran from the corners of her eyes, trailing down her cheeks, as the happiness consumed her. "Yes, Tom, I'll marry you." 

The magnificent sunset view was lost to them, as they stared into each other's eyes for an eternal moment of love between them. Tom slid the ring down her finger and let her look at it. Deb looked at the sparkling show of his love and smiled, as she pulled Tom towards her. Their lips met and many of the people around them saw it and clapped, some congratulating the new couple with raised glasses. Tom and Deb's faces went red, but it didn't take away their smiles of happiness. 

Tom sat back down and the couple spent the next hour in euphoric lover's bliss, as the reality of their bonding took hold. They got around to discussing the reunion coming up and what went on there. Tom gave a quick overview of his clan history and wondered about Deb's clan.

"Do you know much about your clan, or your name, Deb?" Tom asked her, knowing her heritage was Scottish in background, like his.

"Not really, I know my great-grandparents came over at the end of the nineteenth century from somewhere in the highlands. They said we came from a clan that was called MacRae, but the A was dropped in Mac centuries before, for some reason or another."

"I know a fair bit about my clan, seeing as my uncle Stuart is the Chief of the Clan MacLeod, but I don't know much about what happened to them. Maybe we should do a bit of research on them when we go over." 

"That would be a fabulous thing to do, Tom. I'd like to know my history and where I come from." Deb replied excitedly, feeling their trip would be even more exciting now. 

"Yeah, I do too. I can't wait for another three weeks until we fly over there. I really want to show you off to my family and clan." Tom told her, his happiness bubbling out of him.

"Show me off? Oh, come on, Tom. Don't be silly. What? You want me to dress up and parade me around?" Deb replied laughing, thinking Tom was just playing up to her about her .

"No, really. I'm really proud of you and want to show you off to my family and let them know what a great choice I made. I'm not talking about the drop dead sexy body you have, I'm talking about you, the person. I truly adore you, Babe. They don't come any finer in my opinion and that's the only one that counts, right? Everything I could ever want and more, you possess and give to me freely and lovingly." Tom said with true heartfelt emotion, holding her hands in his. "You're my best friend, my confidante, my inspiration. You make every day something beautiful to enjoy and now I'll be able to spend my life with you, Nothing more could make me happier, except maybe starting a family with you."

Deb knew that he truly meant what he was saying and blushed, as she heard him mention for the first time about becoming a family. 

"Oh Baby, you make me so happy. I give myself to you, because to me, you've proved your love to me in so many ways. I want your family proud of me too and I can't wait to meet them." Deb told him, her eyes now glistening brightly and a smile that lit up the room. 



"I would be proud to be the mother of your children, Tom William MacLeod."

Their waiter soon returned, feeling enough time had passed to allow them their moment. 

He took their orders and asked if they wished anything else, before moving a few tables away to attend to another couple just leaving. Dinner was spent sharing looks of love and touches to express their love, the food barely noticed as they ate. The faint glow of the sun lit the horizon with a streak of orange, as they finally finished their wine and Tom signalled to their waiter. Several other diners and their waiter congratulated the couple once they were ready to leave, adding to their enjoyment of the moment. 

Deb was surprised when all Tom did was tip the waiter when they were finished, then finally knowing it was a present from Tom's boss, Bobby to celebrate on him. When they finally left the restaurant, the limo was waiting and took them to the Royal York hotel. The driver opened the door for them and then the trunk, taking out two small overnight bags. Deb was simply breathless in the moment, being treated to wonderful service and then Tom taking the key to their suite and their first night as a real couple. Seeing her own bag, she wondered how Tom had brought it, without her knowing.

"When did you get my bag packed and how did you do it without me knowing?" she asked him, playfully toying with his tie as they waited for the elevator.

"When you were in the shower this morning, I picked out a few things and put them in your bag. When you were at work, I snuck back and packed a few more things you'll need and the driver put the bag in the trunk before we came to get you." he told her smirking at his success in pulling it off.

Deb looked at the bag and back into his eyes. "Have something fun in mind, do you?"

The elevator door closed and gave them a moment of privacy, that brought them together in a passionate embrace, their lips finding each other's, enjoying the first feeling of bonded love between them. They hurried to the suite, as soon as the elevator door opened, their clothes shedding the moment the suite door closed. Naked and filled with lust, they stood facing each other, enjoying their first moment as a couple. Tom reached up and cupped the full, slightly pointed breasts, running his fingers over the stiffening flesh of her turgid nipples. Deb looked in his eyes as he did it and saw him wince and sigh.

"Oh God." he whispered softly.

"What is it, Baby?" Deb asked him softly, knowing it wasn't serious.

"It doesn't matter how many times I hold these beautiful things. Every time I do, I'm hard as a rock.in seconds." he confessed.

Deb smiled playfully and reached down between his legs.

"Oh my. So you are. I have just the thing for this. Come with me, big boy." she cooed and pecked a kiss on his lips, before leading him by his burgeoning manhood towards the bedroom. 

As they lay on the bed, Tom looked down at Deb, her offered body awaiting him to touch it. Tom leaned in and let their lips meet, as his tall, athletic body pressed into Deb's softness. Their need for union was all they wanted at that point and Deb parted her legs and wrapped them around Tom's waist, as she felt the hard, smoothness part her folds and enter inside. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him strong and hard, as he stroked his lustful desires into her wanting wetness deeply. 

"Love me, Tom. Love me long and hard. I treasure feeling you inside me, Baby, it makes me feel so complete. I am yours, my Darling." she whispered in his ear and then grabbed him by the back of his hair and kissed him passionetely, as his swollen member evoked the lust from within her. 

Twice more, their evening was filled with the joining of their lustful love, exploring each others limits, leaving them sated and wrapped in each other's arms to sleep.

Weeks later, the couple sat in the large, wide-bodied British Airways jet and looked out the window, as they watched their parents and home city of Toronto, Canada, slowly fade away in the distance, as they sped towards a family reunion at Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye. The flight was filled with thoughts of what they would do and see once they arrived, the expectation of discovering their history held the greatest interest for them. 

Remembering the looks on their parent's faces when she showed them her ring, had them feeling they had not only fulfilled their own dreams, but both of the parents as well. All their friends had a party in their honour and so many great memories had begun. Deb checked her camera bag and counted out the extra memory cards and batteries she bought. She wanted this trip and everything they did to be remembered on film and felt happy she had Tom bring his DVD camera, along with twenty blank discs, to capture the sounds and motion. 

The blankness of the Atlantic Ocean passed thirty five thousand feet below, offering nothing of interest to look at, so Deb laid her head on Tom's shoulder and watched the in-flight movie, wishing the jet could fly faster than they were going, wanting it to touchdown and begin their vacation as soon as they could.

After almost six hours of travel, the emerald, green of Ireland passed under them and they knew it was only a short time before they would land at Prestwick Airport, less than thirty miles outside of Glasgow. The feeling of the descent had their excitement level return and the sounds and feel of the tires touching down, had them and the other passengers congratulating the pilot and crew on a safe arrival.

They picked up their baggage and passed through customs slowly, the new safety measures taken since 9/11 in New York and the summer bombings in London of 2005, made checking in more stringent and time consuming. Once through, the couple came into the waiting area and looked for a sign with MacLeod on it. Tom's height made it easy for him to spot the sign and took Deb over to it.

Tom didn't recognize the older man holding it, but introduced himself and Deb to him.

"Hi, I'm Tom MacLeod and this is Debra McRae. Are you here to drive us?" 

"Aye, yer uncle wanted tae gi' ye's a wee treat though and I'm tae sail ye tae Dunvegan. I'm Dennis McKaig and I ha'e a fifty foot yacht waiting at the harbour in Ayr fer us, so we should go and we'll take a wee sail out tae Skye." 

Dennis took Deb's bags and walked the couple out and into a waiting cab. Both of their faces were aglow with the prospect of a cruise, as the cabbie left the airport and started their vacation . The couple sat in the back, while Dennis sat up front and talked with them for the three mile trip south to the dock in Ayr. The cabbie loaded the luggage and closed the boot, then got back in, before making his way into the moving traffic.

"Yer uncle said ye're from Scotland, but ye live in Canada. Where abouts?" Dennis asked him, as they left the airport and travelled south along Monkton Rd.

"We're just north-west of Toronto, Ontario. I was only nine when my parents moved there from Skye. My Mom is still there, but my Dad was killed twelve years ago in an accident. Mom really wanted to come, but she's not feeling well enough to travel right now. So it's only us." Tom explained, feeling like Dennis was a family friend and shared more than he normally would.

"Sorry tae here that, Tom, I hope she gets better soon. How about ye, Miss? Are ye from the same place?" Dennis turned slightly and asked Deb.

Tom said thanks and nodded in reply, then looked out the window, seeing the modern subdivisions quickly fade back into history, as they drove through the older parts of town.

"Yes, I'm from the same area. I grew up with Tom and we went to school together. My 

parents still live five doors down from Tom's mom."

"Is that right? Lovely tae hear that." Dennis replied and then turned away and looked out the front, before turning back. "I hope neither of ye's gets sea-sickness. I ha'e pills, but it's no the same, if ye know what I mean." 

Both Tom and Deb assured him they were okay with sailing and not to worry. Tom started to pay more attention to street signs the further they went. The road they were on had changed names three times already in a little over a mile and he became curious to how many more times it would change before they got to where they were going. They came to a roundabout and finally headed a different direction. Tom's curiousity got the better of him and had to ask. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 02



"Excuse me, but why did the road we were on have so many names? From the airport to here, it changed at least five times in what, three miles?" 

Dennis and the cabbie laughed, then the cabbie replied that it all mattered what part of town you were in and it actually helped know the area better. He couldn't help but add to the confusion and told him it was also called the A79. Tom just had to laugh at it and let it go and made no sense of it.

They hadn't travelled very far and were coming to a bridge spanning River Ayr. Dennis gave directions to the cabbie where to park and as soon as they crossed it, they turned right and went along the road a short way, until they were beside the yacht. Dennis paid for the cab and helped Deb with her bags, as they boarded the yacht. The cabbie said goodbye and wished them a good holiday, before beeping his horn and doing a U turn and waving out the window.The two, young crew members untied the lines once the motors started up and in moments, they were out of the River Ayr and into open waters, as Dennis wound up the twin diesel engines to top cruising speed.

Tom and Deb sat on the deck chairs, feeling the cool, sea air and smelling the freshness of it, as they watched the scenery pass by them. Deb quickly opened her camera bag and began documenting their trip, with the coast of the Isle of Arran, which held her interest first, until she turned and the mounding peak of Ailsa Craig was looming out of the waters to the south. The coast of Kintyre and the tiny island of Sanda came next, garnering a dozen photos each. 

"Better save some of those memory cards, Deb. There's a week of vacation to go and I don't know if we'll be able to get extras." Tom warned her.

Deb laughed at his warning, as she continued to click away at sea birds coming close to them.

"I can take a million photos, Tom and never run out. I have my Notebook remember, so I can download the pics I take and empty the cards at night."

"Brains to go with all that beauty and sexy as hell too. How could I ask for more?" he told her smiling and leaned over to kiss her. 

The two hundred and thirty mile trip was relaxing, as Dennis McKaig sailed north to the Isle of Skye, the large yacht sailing smoothly through the choppy waves, making it as pleasing a trip as any could take. As the couple looked at the islands and coastline, they never realized they were sailing through the same waters their ancestors had done centuries before. They had no idea of the blood that once coloured them red either.

The winds blew briskly off Dunvegan Bay, catching the brightly, coloured kites and making them soar. The pale, blue sky was dotted with the colourful specks, as the children watched them climb higher and higher. Dunvegan Castle was alive with the merriment of the re-union, the children playing games about the grounds and the adults gathered in the 

courtyard, re-acquainting with friends and family members. 

The motor yacht docked at the long pier and the couple disembarked with their luggage. Dennis shook hands with them, before casting off and pulling away again, sailing back up the bay. Tom was the only child of the late, Hugh William MacLeod, who was Stuart Alistair MacLeod's younger brother, so he was taken care of by Stuart, along with a trust fund through the Clan, providing him with a good income, along with his business income. 

He stood with his fiancee, Debra, who was still looking in awe at the spectacle of the castle perched high, overlooking the bay and the surrounding lands and felt the flutters of nervousness hit his stomach. He hoped silently in his heart, that his uncle would like Debra. To Tom, Stuart MacLeod was more than just the Chief of the Clan MacLeod, he was as close as a father to him, as his own was. He broke away from his thoughts and looked with Deb as she took pictures, the light and shadows washing over the grey-brown shistz blocks of the castle. Multiple hues blended on the walls, further intimidating her to its majestic glory, as the whirring continued from her camera, picture after picture capturing the scene.

Several servants quickly made their way down the sea-wall passage from the grounds, to collect their luggage and escort them to the castle grounds. An elderly man, followed and made sure the staff knew the proper rooms to take the bags to and prepare them for the couple. He turned to the new arrivals, his face full of joy.

"Welcome back tae Dunvegan Castle, Master Thomas. And who ha'e ye brought wi' ye?" the smiling face of Gordon Foster beamed at him and then to the lady with Tom, bowing to them properly.

"Good to see you again, Gordon," taking his hand in friendship, endearing him more to the elderly man. "I see you've kept well since we last met. Gordon, it is my pleasure to introduce you to, Miss Debra McRae, soon to be, Mrs. Debra MacLeod, as we just got engaged. Debra, this is Gordon, our head of service for the castle." Tom beamed with pride at introducing her.

Gordon's face took a quick turn to one of surprise on hearing her surname, but turned it back just as quick, as he greeted her.

"It is indeed a pleasure M'Lady, tae ha'e ye at Dunvegan. Congratulations tae ye both. I do hope ye enjoy yer stay." he said with a bow of respect, then rose and looked quickly at Tom with a shadow of worry in his eyes. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Gordon." Debra replied and caught the subtle change of expression in Gordon's eyes.

The trip up to the castle grounds was thick with things unsaid as Gordon led them, the walk becoming long and tiring, climbing the many steps to the castle courtyard in silence. As if knowing, Gordon turned his head back as they walked.

"Yer looking well, Master Thomas. Seems the air in Canada agrees wi' ye. Almost as good as the sweet breath ye take here." Tom knew Gordon was making small conversation with them, hiding his true feelings behind a mask of dutiful respect.

"Nothing is as sweet as the highland air here, Gordon. I wish I could bottle it and take it home with me."

"The climb is'ne bothering ye tae much, is it Miss McRae?" Gordon asked her politely.

"Not at all Gordon, it's nice to stretch a bit after the flight over and the sail up to here." she replied, as she held Tom's hand tightly, climbing the ancient steps to the castle grounds. 

Passing through the arched entrance, Debra looked in awe at the impressive sight of seeing and being in a castle. Having grown up in Toronto, where only skyscrapers and the CN Tower held sway over the skyline, and Casa Loma being the closest thing to a real 

castle, this sight had her heart racing with romantic notions and a feeling of being regal.

Gordon led them to where Stuart MacLeod was standing with other members of the clan, as well as those of the MacDonald's. Stuart turned to see the couple coming to him and a wide smile came across his face.

"Tom, it does my heart good tae see ye ag'in, Lad. And who's this bonnie wee Lass ye ha'e wi' ye?" Stuart took Tom's hand and shook it, then pulled him into a welcoming hug. He released him and looked at Debra, standing in mild embarrassment at the affections shown.

"Uncle Stuart, this is my fiancee, Debra McRae. Debra, this is my uncle, Stuart MacLeod." Stuart's face shifted slightly at hearing her surname, but recovered and smiled, taking her hand gently and welcoming her.

"A great pleasure tae meet ye, Debra. And no worries, we won't hold it against ye, fer being a MacRae." Stuart laughed heartily, as did the others around them.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Sir." Debra said in as respectful a manner as she could, making it appear that Stuart was of a royal level. "But why would you hold it against me for being a MacRae? I don't understand, is it a local joke?" she questioned and looked around at the faces, to see if it was indeed a joke.

"Och, it was a wee tease and I do apologize, it was'ne called fer. But please, call me Uncle Stuart." Stuart admitted and bowed his head to Deb, who still wasn't sure of the nature of the joke, but smiled and told him, "It's okay, Uncle Stuart, I don't know much about my clan name or my ancestors, so the joke is lost on me, I'm afraid." Deb said smiling.

They passed a look of understanding between them, Stuart acknowledging to Deb, that he was sorry, as well as welcoming her. Deb smiled back in comfort, but began to wonder what her clan had done.

Tom introduced Debra to the other members of his clan and those of the Clan MacDonald around them, before he excused them to go into the castle to unpack and freshen up after the long trip across and then to the castle. Tom knew that Gordon had given them separate rooms and moved Deb's luggage into his room and closed the door. They smiled at what they were doing and hoped Stuart didn't mind them staying in the same room now that he knew they were engaged. While alone in their room, Debra turned to Tom and asked the question burning in her mind.

"Tom, what did he mean, 'We won't hold it against you'." her face looking worried, that she was somehow blackened by something unknown.

"Ah, that. I take it you don't know what happened here about four hundred and twenty years ago?" he asked, knowing already she didn't.

"I really don't know much about my name or history, like I told you, except my ancestors were from around here somewhere." her face showing concern about what Tom knew.

"Hmmm, where to begin? Well, maybe Uncle Stuart can explain it to you better, but it seems your clan and mine have had a few difficulties getting along. We traded a few words and a few blades along the way, ending up with a bit of feuding between us. Kind of like a Hatfield and McCoy kind of thing." Tom smiled as he told her jokingly, trying to difuse her concerns, but saw it only heightened her worried look.

"You mean I'm not really welcome here? Because of something that happened hundreds of years ago? Oh Tom, I don't want to stay here if everyone is going to hate me." Debra's face took on one of distress, as she imagined what everyone thought of her.

"Awww, Sweetheart, don't think things like that. It happened a long time ago and we don't feud anymore. I know for a fact, Uncle Stuart has met with the McRae's and we've made 

peace with them. The MacDonald's have as well. You have nothing to worry about, honestly. You'll be treated very well by everyone, I promise." As much as he tried to assuage her doubts, her face belied her true feelings, that she was apprehensive about staying here for a week.

After unpacking and freshening themselves, they strolled through the castle, looking at shields and swords, hung prominently on the stone walls. Crests and tapestries adorned more of the centuries old castle, the sight of all the heraldry overwhelming Debra in the scope of its history. On an antique, intricately carved, oak podium, a decree sat under a glass pane protecting it. Debra tried to read it, but didn't understand the language well enough to make out what it said.

Tom stood beside her and related the content of it to her. Her face turned to him in shock, as he told her it was a decree by King James VI, allowing lands held by the MacRae's, to be governed by the MacLeod's. Debra took hold of Tom's arm and held him with a pleading look in her eyes.

"What did my people do? Why were their lands governed by your clan?" her questions giving him trouble to fully explain what happened.

"I think we need to talk with my uncle about it. I don't know enough myself, to explain why it happened." he tried to ease the situation into one where she was more at ease, but could see her trepidations rising the more he did. "C'mon, let's see my Uncle and the others and enjoy ourselves. Try not to let all this bother you, okay Babe? Let's just enjoy the time here and get to know my family and clan. That's why we came, remember?" Tom took her hand and led her out to the courtyard, where over a hundred people were gathered, feeling like she was an outsider among unfriendly people. 

The grounds were immaculate and well appointed with statues of past Chiefs and symbolic pieces. The sun was glinting off them and making them appear even more imposing in their stature. Debra heard the thick brogues, as everyone spoke and enjoyed the tones of them, but held onto Tom closely, feeling he was her only comfort among them. The kites were no longer flying and the children were now holding glasses of ginger ale, while the adults held glasses of golden liquid.

Tom saw his uncle on a podium and directed their path towards him. Stuart was holding up a glass, glinting in the late day sun, while others were holding similar glasses and looking at him. Gordon made his way over with two glasses for Tom and Debra and handed them to them, as Stuart began to speak.

"Welcome MacLeod's and MacDonald's, tae another meeting of two great clans. It is always my honour and privilege tae be the one tae host this gathering. We've shared many trials t'gether and many battles and I can say wi'out question, neither of our clans would be here t'day if we had'ne joined t'gether so long ago. I wish fer us tae pay tribute now tae our elders, those who made the sacrifices and paid the price fer us tae stand here t'day in peaceful celebration. So I'll ask ye's now tae all raise yer glasses, e'en ye wee yuns, tae pay our respects tae those who ha'e past before us, gi'en their lives and all that was good in them, so that we may stand here t'day, as one." his words echoed around the walls of the courtyard, giving more resonance to his strong voice.

Stuart raised his glass high, the sparkle of sunlight dancing in the liquid, bringing life to it. The others all raised their glasses to his and as one, they chanted out the clan oath, 

"Hold Fast," and after a small drink, raised them again and hailed the MacDonald oath of 

"My Hope Is Constant In Thee", whereby everyone drank the remains and shouted "Dram Bu' Idich." (the drink that satisfies)

Servants went about collecting glasses from everyone and as they came for Debra's, she was looking at the glass and deciding on the taste in her mouth. Debra shook her head as 



the taste of the liqueur coated her mouth, then left an instant burning down her throat all the way to her stomach. She held the tartan ringed glass in her hand and looked at Tom with a displeased expression, before handing it to the servant, who noted her with a knowing smile, that she wasn't used to such strong drink.

"What was that stuff?" she asked Tom quietly, trying hard not to show her displeasure and offend anyone.

"Laoch Deoch a MacLeod, it's sort of like Drambuie, but stronger. Didn't like it? It's the clan drink, originally made by us, now made for us, by a local distillery called Talisker. It means, 'the Warrior Drink of the MacLeod's." 

He could see it on her face, without her saying it, that this was totally different than the Cosmos and JaegerBombs she was used to back in the clubs of Toronto. He smiled and hugged her to him and gently laughed.

"I guess there's a lot of things you haven't heard of, or tried. Oh no, I can't wait to see your face when we pipe in the Haggis. Honestly, it's pretty good, believe me, it is. Kind of like ...like nothing you've ever had. Your mom and dad told me you never ate it when they did, so now you'll get a chance at last." and then laughed harder.

Debra could see he was trying to make her smile and not take everything so seriously. She still felt out of place there, but decided to do her best to enjoy everything.

"Well, now that the burning part is gone, it does taste pretty good. I never had haggis before, because... I don't know if I want to try eating it, I mean, sheep's inside things stuffed in a stomach? I don't know, do I have to? And do you really pipe in the thing?" her expression one of slight disbelief and discomfort at the thought.

"For sure. Gordon wheels it out and my Uncle Malcolm plays the pipes, as that's what he does. Every time he plays something different. He used to be in the Blackwatch Pipes and Drums and used do all that precision marching and playing. A long time ago, we had our own pipers, the McCrimmon Pipers. We passed their memorial on the way into the bay." 

"You have such an amazing family, Tom. I really do hope they like me. I want nothing more than to be with you and be a part of your family." Debra's eyes and touch saying far more to him than her words, as she stood in front of him, looking into his eyes and held him close.

"Don't worry Deb, they will. You're an amazing person yourself, you know so. You'll feel like you're one of us in no time." Tom looked deep into her eyes as he spoke and then wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her in tighter to him.

Her smile assured him she would be okay with everything and he kissed her lightly on the lips. Just as they finished, a shadow crossed their faces and they turned towards it. A large, burly man with bright, red hair and beard stood with the sun behind him, making him appear God-like in appearance.

"Uncle Tav!!!" Tom showed an instant affection for the man and shook his hand vigorously. With an ease of his strength, Tavish pulled Tom into a bear hug, then released him, only to ruffle his hair like a young boy. Tom showed a slight embarrassment at the treatment and fixed his hair, but returned quickly to his exuberance of seeing his uncle.

"How are ye, Tommy Boy? It's good tae see ye, Lad. Yer lookin' more a man every time I see ye, so ye are. And who's this wee beauty yer holding on tae so tightly?" Tavish's face turned towards Debra and gave her a wide grin and a wink of his bright, blue eyes.

Debra flushed at the attention and praise, as Tom introduced her. "Uncle Tavish, this is my fiancee, Debra McRae. Deb, this is my uncle, Tavish MacDonald. Well, not my real uncle, but might as well be." Tom added, as he looked at Tavish and smiled.

"It's a great pleasure tae meet ye Debra. A McRae? Ye led a lamb tae slaughter did ye, Tom?" Tavish said laughing, as he turned to Tom and winked.

Tom smiled and looked at Debra, who was looking worried at having the past brought up again. He hugged her and laughed, then told her, "It's okay, he was joking. I guess we better find Uncle Stuart and how about you too, Uncle Tavish? I want to let Debra know what the whole story is about our clans and the MacRae's. Would you like to do that for me, Uncle Tav?" he asked with a questioned plea for help.

"Aye, of course I'll tell our wee Lassie know all about the heathen buggers her ancestors were. Come wi' yer Uncle Tav, Hen and ye'll know all about it then." Tavish took Debra's hand to his elbow in gentlemanly fashion and led her over to Stuart, who was laughing heartily with several other men, all dressed in the MacLeod tartans. One was wearing the bright yellow and black striped tartan.

"Taylor MacLeod, look at you, all gussied in yer Loud MacLeod. How did yer trip turn out? I see they did'ne throw yer arse in jail, so it must'ae bin no bad." Tavish blurted out as he approached.

"Tavish!! Not ye? Stuart, what are ye letting the likes of him come fer? Are ye trying tae put us out?" Taylor retorted in mock disgust, then welcomed him properly with a hug and a smile best reserved for close family.

"Always does ma' heart proud tae see ye cousin." Tavish said more sincerely and heartfelt, with a deep respect for their kinship.

"My heart as well, Tavish. The trip was grand, so it was, thanks fer askin'. And who's this fetching beauty ye have on yer arm?" Taylor returned with an affection and an interest.

"Taylor, it is indeed my pleasure tae introduce ye tae Miss Debra McRae, the future niece of Stuart and betrothed tae this lot behind me." Tavish said, ribbing Tom, "Ye remember Taylor, don't ye, Tom? He's no that far from where ye live." Tavish said, looking back over his shoulder to Tom.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 02



"Yes, hi Taylor, good seeing you again." Tom came forward for a handshake, then stood beside Debra. 

"And you Tom, as well." he responded in perfect Canadian, dropping the brogue, before turning his eyes to his fiancee, "Debra, indeed a pleasure and congratulations on the upcoming nuptials." Taylor said holding his hand for hers and taking it gently. "I'm sure we'll be gathering for the celebration soon, We weren't putting any hopes on Tom coming through with a date this time, let alone engaged. And let me say, he's picked a lovely one." he finished saying and gave a slight bow with his head, then turned to Tom again and smiled, winking as he shook his hand again.

Debra was relieved he didn't make any jokes about the clan feud and blushed at the compliments. "Thank you Taylor, for the warm welcome and it's such an honour to be here with you all." she smiled warmly to everyone and looked back to Tavish.

"Stuart, I think we need tae gi'e our wee Lassie a bit of a history lesson and gi'e Tom some as well. Shall we go inside and sit in the study, where we can tell them what's gone on?" Tavish asked, while patting Debra's hand, giving her some comfort it wouldn't be a bad thing to hear.

"Aye Tavish, nothing like a good tale of the clans tae rouse the spirit. Off we go inside then" he said ushering them to go inside, with a broad sweep of his hand towards the entrance. "I'll talk tae ye gents soon and ha'e another dram." he told the men he was with.

The celebration continued with kids playing games and the adults joining in with the fun, as the four passed amongst them, then walked up the broad stone steps and through the massive archway into the hall. Stuart led them down the long hallway adorned with pieces of their history and then opened an ornate oak door, polished to a brilliant shine.

They entered in and Stuart invited them to sit in the large, leather chairs in front of a massive stone fireplace. Paintings of ancestors hung on highly polished, oak panelled 

walls around the room, the splendour intriguing the young couple.

"Shall I pour another dram of the golden nectar fer us while we talk?" Stuart asked, as he gathered four glasses and opened a heavy, crystal decanter filled with the liquid of the toast earlier. "It's been a while since ye've been in here Tom." he said, noticing Tom looking around in awe again. 

Debra looked hesitant about another drink of it, but felt if she could get past the burning, she would enjoy the sweet aftertaste. Stuart returned with a silver tray, with four, thick, crystal glasses, etched with the clan crest and bearing a good amount of drink in each. He passed them out and then took a seat across from Tom and Debra, sitting beside Tavish. He held his glass in the centre of them and the others saluted his. 

The ringing of crystal filled the room, as Stuart toasted. "Slainte Chuig Na Fir, Agus Go Mairfidh Na Mna Go Deo." 

Debra looked puzzled at hearing the Gaelic toast, wondering what was said, when Tavish continued with his own. "Tir Nam Beann, Nan Gleann, Nan Gaisgeach!", then she took a drink when everyone else did, not wanting to spoil what was said.

"Ye've no idea what was just said, do ye Hen?" Tavish said to her chuckling, knowing she knew nothing of the Gaelic language. "Stuart said, 'Health tae the men and may the women live forever', and I said, 'Tae the land of the Bens, the Glens and the heroes'."

"Honestly, I would never have figured that out, but they are both beautiful toasts." she replied, smiling after knowing it.

Tom turned to her and held his glass to her personally and Debra lightly touched his glass with hers, as he recited yet another one.

"Graim thu go siorai" then took a drink of the golden liquid, still capturing the light and causing it to dance inside the glass. Debra drank as well, feeling the burning and then the wonderful glow and the sweet taste.

Debra looked at him and waited for the translation. "What did that mean?", when he didn't reply.

"I'll tell you later, Baby." he said smiling at her, then turned to Stuart and Tavish. "Fad Saol Agat". (Long Life to You).

"And a long life tae ye, Tom." they both replied and drank. "Ye've been studying Gaelic I see. Very good son, yer sounding more like a true Scot all the time." Stuart praised him and gave him a knowing wink at what he said to Debra and stayed quiet, so Tom could tell her later. 

"So where shall we start, Stuart? Should we go back tae Garreth and Grayson, or before? What do ye feel about that?" Tavish asked.

"Aye Tavish, might as well gi'e them both a lesson in highland living in the sixteenth century. Are ye ready fer some good stories? No tae mind Debra, what happened. We're no going tae hold ye tae account fer what happened centuries ago, but it'll do ye good tae know what happened between our clans and what we went through." Stuart told the young couple, but looked with assurance at Debra, giving her a sense of ease.

Tom and Debra sat rapt with attention, waiting to hear the whole story of how the MacLeod's and MacDonald's joined together and battled with the MacRae's and other clans siding with them. Little did they realize what was in store for them once it began. Stuart pondered the beginning and started.

"It was back in the late sixteenth century, Garreth MacLeod was Chief of the Seat of MacLeod here at Dunvegan, his father William dying from wounds in a battle and Grayson and Arabella MacDonald were ruling the Clan MacDonald from Castle Tioram and Castle Camus, after their father, John, was killed in a battle helping Arabella's husband and his clan, the MacLean's. We were trading partners fer hundreds of years prior to this and 

peace reigned among the clans, after a Treaty was signed in 1406, by the Lord of the Isles ruling the surrounding lands. It was yer ancestors, James MacRae to be exact, who started all the trouble again...."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 03



Garreth MacLeod stood with his mother, Julia and his younger brother, Peadair at the battlement wall, watching the birlinns sail out into Dunvegan Bay. Little did they know how life would change, with the events that would soon follow. His father, William, thirteenth Chief of the MacLeod's of Harris and Dunvegan, was setting out to battle with the MacKenzie's, after they had attacked MacLeod clan members along Loch Alsh. 

Garreth, only seventeen at the time, wanted to go with him, but was bid to stay and defend the castle. He knew there would never be an attack on Dunvegan, but accepted his position and stood with his sword in hand, holding it high above his head, as he saluted his father and the men on their way to do battle. He watched as the men drew their swords in salute to him.

It would be three days later that his father's birlinn would return with him, an arrow piercing his chest, close to his heart. As William lay in his bed, hovering close to death, Garreth was summoned to his bedside. William held the clan amulet in his hand and a look of great sadness was upon his face. Garreth could see the pained emotion and wondered why he was feeling like that.

"Garreth, my son, take this amulet and keep it close tae ye at all times. Ne'er let it leave ye, till ye are dead or dying. It was my undoing tae leave it behind and now I pay the price fer no ha'ing it's protection tae guard me. Yer forefather, Malcolm, carved this from a piece of the cornerstone and had it blessed by a Fairy Queen. Its magic holds great powers and ye'll be guarded by them, as long as it's wi' ye. Garreth, my time is near o'er, so ye'll be the new Chief of the MacLeod' s. Do us prood, son and keep oor name strong and defend oor honour." 

Garreth saw the ashen skin and paleness in his father's eyes, as he held his hand out to him. William placed the amulet in his hand and bade him to guard it with his life, as his life depended on it. Garreth knelt and tears welled in his eyes, knowing that his father would soon be leaving this world, to join his ancestors.

"Father, I will do as ye ask of me, I swear this tae ye." 

"I know ye will, son. Make me prood. Hold Fast, son." 

Those were the last words Garreth heard spoken, as his father slipped away, holding the amulet firmly into his hand. For all the strength of his character, Garreth couldn't hold back his tears and wept openly at his father s passing. His mother came to him and gave him comfort, as he held his father's lifeless hand and lay his head beside his body. The room was cleared of everyone, except Julia and Peadair. The priest that came from the local church, made a final blessing of the body and gave solace to the grieving family members, before leaving them alone.

Garreth looked into the eyes of both of them and could see the transfer of power had left his father and be given to him. For all that he knew he would hold this position one day, the weight of that responsibility was quickly filling him and burdening his spirit.

The castle was cast into mourning for the dead leader, as his body was prepared for funerary services. William's body was laid upon the cross bracing of his birlinn and then rowed towards his final resting place on the Isle of Iona, where generations of his ancestors lay. McCrimmon pipers played dirge after dirge throughout the voyage, as they sailed the eighty-five miles to St. Columba's Abbey on Iona, where past Chiefs now lay. 

They landed on the east side of the island and William's body was carried by his men, led by Garreth and his mother, along the Walk of the Dead, to the Abbey. The priest blessed 

William's body and the tomb was prepared for him, while he lay in state. Once finished, the procession made its way to the site and watched, as his father was interred into the holy ground and bade him goodbye for the last time.

He steeled himself to be brave and show no weakness, as he knew he was now to become the fourteenth Chief of his Clan. Julia wept openly and Garreth held his mother in comfort, as the stone door was closed, ending all physical connection to the once great man. The priest gave a final benediction to William and once back in the Abbey, blessed Garreth as the new Chief, granting him the power of the church in his new position.

The sail back to Dunvegan was made in silence, out of respect for William's passing, but it was welcomed by Garreth, as he considered what his new title meant to him. Once the birlinn docked and the procession made it up the sea-wall passage into the courtyard, Garreth knew in his heart, he had to drive away the joys of youth and adopt the ways of a Chieftain of his clan. He looked at his younger brother, Peadair and bade him to walk with him into the lands around the castle. 

As they walked, Garreth shared his loss with his brother, but more importantly, made him his captain. Peadair stopped cold and stood looking at Garreth, realizing his brother's new position and now what was being asked of him. With complete confidence in Garreth, Peadair knelt and bowed his head to the new Chief. Garreth laid a hand on his shoulder and Peadair looked up to his face.

"Peadair, as much as I'm the new leader of oor clan, I ask that ye show me yer own strength. Should I fall, ye'll be gi'en the task of being Chieftain and it's up tae us tae lead our people well. Bear wi' me dear brother and do as yer asked and ne'er question my commands. Oor father has taught us well, but standing here wi' ye noo, I ha'e tae admit tae ye, that my heart is filled wi' my own doubts that I'll be as good as he was." 

Peadair listened to his brother's confession and immediately rose to face him.

"Garreth, I ha'e every faith that ye'll be a great leader. Yer a good man and ha'e a good heart. I ha'e no doubts that ye'll lead us well and lead us long. We ha'e many allies and few enemies, so we stand wi' the power tae rule wi'oot consequence. Oor greatest friend and ally, John MacDonald will surely watch o'er us, while ye make yer way. Yer best friend, Grayson, will always be by yer side as well, like he always has." Peadair assured him.

Garreth looked at his brother and smiled for the first time in days, knowing the words he spoke were true and gave him comfort. He drew Peadair into a hug and they shared a last moment of being only brothers. Garreth knew from this moment on, that there would be a separation between them, once he was declared the Chief.

Garreth and Peadair walked back to the castle together, sharing thoughts on what to do first, all the while Garreth held the amulet tucked in the pouch tied to his waist.

It was a week afterwards that his mother announced her leaving, to go back to her own family, the MacLean's on the Isle of Mull. It was her wish to live as close to William as she could and be near the man of her heart. Her sons understood her desire to go, although they were reluctant to have her leave them.

Three days after Garreth was made Chief and the ceremony was complete, Julia bade her sons goodbye and sailed away. 

Garreth sat with his friend, Grayson MacDonald, who had come to his declaration and shared a moment of their friendship together. Garreth was beginning to understand more and more the changes his father's passing, was making in his life. Garreth felt at ease, knowing Grayson and his family had pledged their friendship and loyalty to defend him and the MacLeod's, should the need arise.

More than ever, Garreth looked to Grayson as his source of comfort, to aid him in his new role as leader. Peadair was stalwart and true to his word and never questioned a decision 

he made, giving Garreth the confidence in him, by carrying out his orders as given. Garreth led his clan well and made sure they remained the power of Skye, that his father had made them. 

As years passed, good times prevailed among the clans. It was the greed of others that would upset the balance of the clans and bring turmoil to them and cause a great change in how the clans of Scotland would be ruled. What had started as a quick lesson in clan history, was turning into a detailed account of the events that transpired. Gordon knocked at the door and announced that dinner was ready and to come to the hall. Once the four were seated and Stuart had blessed the meal, a few guests asked what they had been talking about that was so interesting.                  

Stuart rose and smiled, before telling his guests. "Tavish and I were just gi'en Tom and Deb a bit of history about our clans and the MacRae's. Debra is a McRae and does'ne know anything about her clan and what caused the problems between us." 

A look passed among the guests and Stuart and Tavish could see there was an interest to know themselves what happened.

"Would ye like us tae tell ye's the story as well?"" Stuart asked.

A resounding yes by everyone, convinced him it would be a good subject to continue once dinner was done. It seemed everyone ate a little faster, wanting to finish eating, so they could hear the tale being told. They weren't disappointed and once the plates were cleared, Stuart stood and told them quickly of what they had told Tom and Deb already.

As Stuart was getting into the story again, Gordon interrupted and ushered in a guest. Stuart and many others smiled and greeted the man as he came in and was given a place close to Stuart to sit. Stuart made a motion to start talking to Argus Stewart, but was waved off by him, to continue with the story instead.

Stuart smiled and accepted the proposal and cleared his throat. 

"It was a dark time coming fer the MacDonnell's. O'er two hundred years before this, Hamish MacDonnell, known as Hamish the Elder, had defended the castle, Eilean Donan, against the MacRae's after a long and bloody battle. The castle had changed hands fer centuries between them since it was built, but the MacDonnell's had maintained possession and made improvements tae it since they took control. It was a late, spring day in April of 1589, that peace would be broken and blood would be spilled once more between them. James MacRae wanted Eilean Donan back again and this time, he had help" 



Blood of the Clans Ch. 04



The arrow tip followed its target slowly, staying on mark and waiting for the right moment to release. Kyle MacDonnell was a skilled hunter and waited patiently, keeping the tension on the bow taut. He stepped lightly through the underbrush, keeping his footfalls near silent, as he kept his distance from the stag, grazing on new shoots. He saw it turning his way, providing the perfect kill shot. The whistling of wood and feathers streaked through the air, sure of its mark.

Kyle, only son of Hamish MacDonnell, left this world without knowing how or why he was just killed. The arrow that streaked for his heart without warning or provocation, found its mark and instantly darkened his eyes forever. He fell with little sound, his own arrow releasing and disappearing into the thick woods. The deer he was hunting, left in leaps and bounds to live another day, keeping the dark deed secret.

Twenty, dishevelled clansmen, their clothing dirty and worn, armed with tarnished broad swords, dirks and axes, passed the lifeless body and continued with stealth to the edge of the brush. A long passage of open land lay between them and the bridge to the castle and it would take a quick dash to cover and a slow approach to the castle walls.

The early hour of the morning raid gave them the near dark conditions to go unnoticed, as a rolling fog was coming in off the loch and made their conditions that much easier to accomplish.

Blair MacRae turned and spoke in whispered command, "Get in, take out everyone". his eyes intending the meaning of a quick death to any and all.

The others looked at him with determined fierceness in their eyes and set in the looks of their faces. Blair turned back, took a quick look to both sides and sprinted for the bridge. The others were out and racing after him, to storm through with surprise and take control. They made it along the far wall of the bridge without being spotted and crept up to the outer curtain wall. The gateway was open, allowing them the ease of storming through and taking them by surprise. Quietly they scaled the wall and prepared for attack.

Hamish MacDonnell was just coming into the courtyard, as Blair MacRae burst past the gate, his sword raised above his head. He stood in disbelief, as he watched MacRae after 

MacRae run in behind him, all brandishing swords and knives.

Blair ran towards the first male, a peasant farmer setting up his harvest for sale and brought his sword down in an arching swing, almost severing the man's neck. Blood spread in sweeping arcs, as Blair ran the blade through him and readied it for the next strike. Hamish turned quick and raced back in, screaming out the alarm. He entered the armoury and found his sword and targe, then continued screaming out the alarm, as he ran back to the courtyard. 

In the short time he had taken to return, twelve men lay dead and more were being taken down, as he looked. He dashed at Blair, screaming his battle cry, his face set with rage, sword raised to strike. Blair turned, as he heard the scream and prepared himself for the attack.

Hamish brought his sword crashing down at Blair, who countered with a defensive move, but was unable to stave off the full force of the blow. The blade cut into his left shoulder and weakened him, making him drop his sword, so Hamish pulled back and readied to strike with full force again. It was his undoing and left his body open to attack. Blair used it to his advantage and pulled the dirk from the scabbard on his waist and thrust it into Hamish's abdomen. The sound of metal slicing through tartan and flesh, told all there was to know to Blair. He had succeeded in besting MacDonnell and turning it to his victory.

Hamish's eyes went wide in shock and then returned to a look of hatred and ferocity. 

He continued his stroke and brought the hilt down hard on Blair's upper chest. The strike was enough to drive Blair back, but not enough to disable him. Blair quickly recovered his step and in a quick lunge, drove his dirk deep into Hamish's sternum. Hamish's sword dropped from his hand and he slowly sank to the ground, his eyes showing defeat to his enemy. 

Blair picked up his sword and while Hamish knelt bleeding, Blair swung hard and cleared Hamish's head from his shoulders. Blair looked about and saw dozens of dead bodies, then smiled, as he saw that none were his men. With Hamish's blood dripping along the blade, he ran into the keep, slashing and killing anyone he met as he ran through, sparing no one. One after another, people became victims of their raid, unable to escape the blades meting out death in mass quantities.

Lady Anne MacDonnell had come from the sitting room, where she was writing to her sister in France, before the commotion started. She sat in her morning robes at the small writing desk, the candlelight casting a faint swath of light over the surface. Hearing the screams of her husband that they were under attack, had her alarmed and remembering his orders for protective hiding. Her place was the store room, where a passage out of the castle and into the woods beyond was built. Hamish had gave orders for what she must do in that event. Now that it was upon her in unexpected fashion, she hesitated in what she must do. 

She ran from her room and went for her daughter, Heather, but found her way becoming blocked from approaching men. She turned in despair from where her daughter and her two cousins were and ran for the storeroom, her thin slippers keeping her footsteps quiet. Passing a small window, she looked out and saw the headless body of her husband and felt a stabbing in her heart and nearly collapsed, but resolved herself to make it to the trapdoor and safety beyond it.

Hamish the Elder had ordered it built a hundred and ten years past, after the MacRae's laid siege to the castle two years before, almost starving them out and winning the battle. Only the help of the MacLeod's coming to their aid, helped turn the tide and grant them a victory. Hamish had set about having it built at great cost to life and fortune, as four men died in a cave in and suffocated and a great deal of the family's wealth was spent in building it, but it was a necessity that bore a need for construction. The exit was well covered and there was no chance of it being seen in the thick woods beyond.

Lady Anne raced to the store room and pushed the heavy crate covering the trap door out of the way. She climbed down the wooden ladder to the dank, earth floor below, her feet settling in the moist ground. The wood-lathed walls were damp and the tunnel stank heavily of mouldy wood. Without aid of a torch, she carefully picked her way along the corridor blindly, feeling the walls as she went, her feet sticking in the mucky floor. With no light, the distance seemed infinite, until her hand felt the earthen wall in front of her.

She felt along the wall until she hit the ladder and felt her way on to it. Reaching the top, as carefully and quietly as she could, she pushed the wooden hatchway up and the bushes covering it. The bright light stung her eyes, after being in pitch blackness, as she crawled out and covered it back over again. Lady Anne listened for sounds and then raised her head to look for signs of anyone around. Finding the way clear, she raced into the woods and kept close to the bushes for cover, should anyone come. She ran as fast as she could to the north, hoping to reach the house on the coast owned by Jacob Dornie. Her only hope was to reach the castle of her clan ally, the MacDonald's, on the south shore of Skye, in Castle Camus.

It was Hamish's Grandmother, Heather MacDonnell, namesake of her daughter, who had married Torquil MacDonald and set ties to the largest and most powerful clan of the Western Highlands. Henceforth, their clans had been in bond and it was John MacDonald and Hamish's father Rory, who had joined in Manrent for joint protection and prosperous growth of their clans. For generations they grew and became the force they were this day. This day, being one they were now challenged to hold onto that power.

Jacob Dornie was a local fisherman and trader of local goods to surrounding villages on the lochs. Never having a wife and children, he had lived a lonely existence, but one he found pleasure in. He hand-made his own boat and took pride in knowing he could best the speed of many others and some birlinns. She became his life's love, knowing her intimately and admiring her beauty, calling her, Fiona. 

He had sailed everywhere the winds and waters took him and knew every nook and cove a village existed. In his sixty two years, he had come to know the tides and winds like they were his children and knew his crafts with great alacrity. This morning had found him getting his wares ready for sale. His morning's catch of fish, gutted and strung, his loaves of bread and sacks of grains, and a satchel of cooking tools, for his sail to the lower lochs and several of the villages he was accustomed to selling and trading in, were all being readied carefully. 

Blair MacRae raced through the castle with ten men, slashing and stabbing everyone to death. They searched each room and then met in the courtyard with the rest.. They had six women they had taken captive, kneeling in front of them, their hands bound and unable to escape. Torn material lay in tatters about their bodies, their bared breasts, reddened from harsh grasps. Darkening patches on their faces told of the slaps and beatings they received, to submit unwilling to their fates. Once coiffed hair fell in disarray about their heads, covering some of the atrocities, as well as their nudity.

"Close and bar the gate. Iain, post men about the walls. Keighvin, ye and some of the others gather the bodies." Blair took command of them and looked about the castle grounds. His face broke to a smile, as he realized they had taken the castle and only two men injured, himself being one.

He walked towards the women and stood before them, looking them over. None lifted their head to look at him, so he roughly pulled the hair back of the end one, making her look at him. He smiled wickedly as he saw who it was.

"Heather MacDonnell, once my men have cleared all the bodies out, ye and the others will wash the blood off the floors and then make me and my men some food." Blair's cold, grey eyes and fierce expression set a fear in her. "After that, my men and I will need servicing."

He threw her head forward again and then looked about at his men.

"Fetch a cart and load this shite on tae it. Take it out and burn the lot." he ordered two of his clansmen.

They went off in search of a large cart in the stables, while six more were carrying the dead into the centre of the courtyard. Fifteen lay piled already and more were being brought out. Blair looked at who the dead were and recognized most of them. Thinking of Heather, it sparked a thought in him and he searched the bodies and faces more closely.

"Where's Lady Anne? Find her and bring her tae me." he shouted to the ones retrieving the dead.

His cousin and his brother both ran into the castle and searched the rooms for her. They came back to say every room was checked and no sign of her. Blair walked quickly into the castle and searched the lower rooms. Opening the door to the store room, he immediately spotted the trapdoor in the floor.

"Ye great idiots, did neither of ye's, or the others, think tae check this door out?" Blair said condescending them. "Get a torch and go down and see where it goes."

Lachlan, Blair's youngest brother, fetched a torch from the hall and lit it from the kitchen hearth. His cousin, Alexander, was standing on the ladder waiting for him and took the torch, as he climbed down. They walked down the narrow passageway for several hundred yards before reaching the end and seeing the ladder. Lachlan climbed up and pushed the cover and bushes off the top and climbed up enough to see out.

"We're in the forest, north of the castle. I'll go look fer her, ye go back and tell Blair where it is. She can'ne be tae far ahead, where'er she's going, but I ha'e a good feeling it's tae Knock Castle and they bastard MacDonald's. The fisherman up the coast is her only hope." Lachlan shouted down to Alexander.

"Aye, she'll stay tae the woods tae co'er herself, that'll slow her down." Alexander replied and dashed back down the passageway again.

Lachlan broke from the scrub brush and ran through open ground as fast as he could. He knew Lady Anne had one place she could go and he headed straight for it. She had a good head start and was closer to her goal, than Lachlan was to her, but his speed would narrow that margin quickly against hers. 

With the knowledge her life would end if she was caught, it drove Anne to run as fast as she could, no matter how much her lungs burned and muscles screamed in painful disuse at that moment. She never paid heed to the sharp ends of a broken branch, tearing away the material of her robe and slashing her skin, she remained so grievously focused on the pathway through the dense woods, that led her to her goal. Bared and cut flesh was the least of her worries, as her life was held in peril.

Alexander climbed the ladder again, to find Blair still waiting, looking anxious for the news he brought. He stood with him and pointed out the direction of the tunnel and where Lachlan was headed, as he relayed his information.

"Blair, the passageway leads tae a forested area a few hundred yards north of the castle." he told him quickly, "Lachlan thinks Lady Anne escaped and is headed for the fisherman on the coast of Loch Long, tae get tae Knock Castle and they MacDonald's." Alexander informed Blair of the possibility.     

Blair ran from the room and out into the courtyard again. He scoured the faces of the men, looking for certain ones.

"Alistair, William, and you as well Alexander, ye three men go tae the coast and ready the birlinn. If Lady Anne makes it tae Knock Castle, our control will be short lived. See to it she does'ne arrive there. The rest won't arrive for one or two days more, so we need tae remain unknown. Our success lies in yer's. Don't fail yer clan. Now go!" Blair ordered them.

The three were running at top speed for the coast as well, but in the opposite direction. They had sailed in, under the cover of darkness and moored along the coast of Loch Duich, waiting until just before morning's light to commence their raid. The dark birlinn made no noise, as they pulled it to the shore and tied it to the overhanging branches of a tree. They watched the castle and the surrounding area for anyone who might spot them and were prepared to take out anyone who might raise an alarm. As the morning light approached, they had made their way through the thick woods and were sitting in wait, when Kyle MacDonnell unwittingly became the first casualty, due to his fateful hunting trip.

Lady Anne broke from the woods and into a clearing along the shore, stopping to gather herself and catch her breath. Quickly she looked about to get her bearings where she was, then saw the hovelled cottage of Jacob Dornie far down on the coast and raced for it. Tears streaked from her eyes, as she knew in her heart her husband and possibly her daughter and son were dead, the castle lost to the MacRae's. Her heart was being torn with the guilt of leaving her daughter to the hands of those heathens, knowing her death would be better, than what lay in store for her, should she be spared. No movement could be seen, nor smoke from the hearth rising up, as she neared it. His boat was still beached on the shore and her hopes stayed up. She ran to it and started to cry out for Jacob.

Hearing the screams from outside, Jacob walked out the door and looked along the shore. He saw Lady Anne MacDonnell frantically racing towards him and headed to her. 

"Jacob, Jacob, they've killed Hamish and taken the castle. I ha'e tae get tae Castle Camus in all haste and tell them. I beg yer kind soul tae take me there."

Jacob saw the total distress of Lady Anne and knew her to be a calm, staid woman of character. She ran into his arms and he held her in comfort.

"Who killed Laird Hamish, M'Lady? Who's taken the castle?" he asked in urgency of the danger.

"The MacRae's. They stormed in and killed everyone. I stole away using the hidden passage and came here. They ha'e control of the castle and if I'm found, they'll put me tae death." her words ragged and choppy, as she tried to explain through the deep, sobbing breaths.

"The MacRae's? James MacRae and his lot?" Jacob took a quick thought of who was laying siege and knew they were heartless heathens, who'd kill without question for their own gain. "Hurry Lady Anne, get intae the boat and I'll make fer Castle Camus in all haste." 

He remembered the telling of how the MacRae's had plundered and murdered innocent people in their beds. Many of the villages he visited, shared similar tales of their brutality. Jacob helped Lady Anne to his boat and she climbed aboard the small, but sea-worthy craft. Jacob pushed them off the beach and into deeper water, before climbing aboard and raising the canvas. In moments, the wind had gathered in the broad sail and they were gaining much needed speed. Neither of them saw Lachlan as he ran towards them and stopped in defeat. He cursed and swore, as he turned and ran back to the castle to tell Blair.

Alistair was a faster runner and was already unfurling the sail, as the others climbed aboard. They untied it from its moorings and pushed off the shore, drifting into the loch. Alexander and William sat across from each other and lowered their oars into the water. The winds weren't favourable for them and had to rely on the pulling of the oars to catch up.

"Pull ye lot, put more effort intae they strokes. There she is wi' the old man, the now." Alistair said, pointing at the small sail on the loch, hundreds of yards away. "If she makes it tae Knock, we'll be as good as dead if she tells MacDonald what we've done. If they don't kill us, Blair surely will." Alistair MacRae reminded them.

William and Alexander, as well as the others, pulled harder on the oars to get to favourable winds. Strong, sinewy arms strained to their limit, needing to clear the point of Loch Duich and into the winds now carrying Lady Anne farther away. As they rounded the point, Alistair turned the mast boom and the sail snapped sharply and caught the wind. The men pulled the oars in once they couldn't make more speed and sat anxiously, as they saw the fishing boat off in the distance.

The birlinn had the edge of greater speed over Jacob's smaller craft, but the distance between them offered the pair an advantage. Jacob also knew the waters and the winds much better than the MacRae's did. His decades of sailing the waters gave him an edge again, to seek out the best route of catching the winds. They were just passing the low-lying island in the middle of the loch, on the south side, where the winds gathered speed in the narrows, as he looked back and saw the black birlinn and its white sail coming faster.

Jacob knew in his heart it would be a test of his seamanship, to best the speed of the birlinn and reach Castle Camus, before the MacRae's caught up to them. 

"We've got the wind tae our backs and distance between us M'Lady. I'll get ye tae Knock before they catch us." he said to her, in hopes of easing the frantic state she was in.

She looked into Jacob's eyes and then past him to the sail that grew larger in her vision as the minutes passed. She tendered a weak smile and gave Jacob thanks for his efforts to ease her suffering.

"Thank ye, Jacob. I owe ye a great debt and my life fer yer service. If God sees fit fer us tae make it tae Camus, I'll see tae it yer well rewarded." Lady Anne's words were weakly spoken, but Jacob knew the truth that lay in them.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 04



Jacob continually worked the lines. eking out every drop of speed he could from the sail, while he gauged the currents through the rudder for the speed. He turned back to see the distance between them had been closed even more. His heart raced, knowing it would take more than his skills, but an act of God's grace, to get them there first and safely. The winged horse head on the prow of the birlinn could now be seen and Jacob steadied his composure to one of confidence, to allow her Ladyship some much needed peace of mind.

Jacob turned his sail and rudder and rounded the point, heading south into Kyle Rhea. The winds were channelled by the steep cliffs bordering them on both sides, increasing their speed even more. A smile grew on Jacob's face, as he sailed down the kyle and the birlinn disappeared from view behind them.

"It won't be long now, Lady Anne. We should be able tae make it there before them." he said with confidence, in part to ease her Ladyship and in part to ease his own doubts.

As he turned back, the birlinn was rounding the point and making good speed. He could now make out the faces of the men aboard it. His heart sank with thoughts of almost making it to safety and losing the race against time and distance.

"Can we no get more speed, Alistair? They're almost there. Ye know our orders and we can'ne fail or it's our hides that'll be flying from the castle masts." William urged his cousin.

"We'll reach them. Get an arra' ready William and see if we're in range." Alistair instructed him.

William set an arrow on the string and pulled it back, then released it. The arrow flew fast, but landed far short of its mark. He knew it would be a close race to close the distance and take the old man out before he could make landfall before them. The waves crashed against the bow, sending the salty spray up and soaking the men. They knew it was a miracle they needed to catch them and they prayed for that hope, the look of trepidation staining their faces.

The last point was in sight, that Jacob needed to round, before reaching the castle. He steered for the shortest route and saw the masts of the MacDonald's birlinns anchored in the bay. His heart raced with joy at making it and turned to see where the MacRae's were. As his eyes found them, the arrow from Alexander's bow found him, striking him in the side of his chest. Jacob collapsed and sank, as he tried desperately to guide the boat the last few hundred yards to the shore. 

Lady Anne turned to see Jacob slump on the tiller, yet trying to guide them to the shore. She climbed back to him and held him in her arms to comfort him.

"Brace yerself Lady Anne, I'll ha'e tae crash us on the rocks. Run fer the castle M'Lady and don't worry about me. Get tae safety and tell them of the siege." Jacob's words were strained by the lack of air getting into his lung. A trail of bright, red blood drained from his mouth, as he expelled it from hacking it up.

The shore raced up quickly and the rocky bottom cracked and battered the bottom of the boat, as it came ashore. 

"Make haste now M'Lady. I'm done and can'ne be of help tae ye. Go, save yerself, and warn..." The words died in mid-sentence, as another arrow found its mark in Jacob's back. Jacob's eyes shut, never to open again.

Lady Anne leapt from the side into the frigid waters and onto the shore, stumbling over the rocks to the beach. She looked back at Jacob and felt sorrow, but it was short felt, as an arrow whizzed by her closely. She turned and ran for the castle, screaming out to be saved.

Aiden MacDonald, youngest cousin of Grayson and Arabella, was just exiting the gate with several men on their way to Castle Tioram, as he heard the screams. He quickly scanned about looking for the source of them and saw a raggedly dressed woman, stumbling over the rocky ground towards him. They ran towards her in haste, then spotted the birlinn and six figures aboard, coming around the point. Arrows were let loose and fell about them, one striking a MacDonald in the upper chest. He fell in pain, but waved the others to go on, that he would be okay.

They surrounded the woman, using their own bodies as shields for her. Aiden recognized her immediately as Lady Anne MacDonnell, but waited until they had her to safety, to ask her what was going on. They led her in through the gate and called out for Glenn MacDonnell, while a pair of soldiers fired arrows back, landing them close to the birlinn, but not reaching it. They assisted the fallen clansman, keeping watch over their shoulders for another salvo coming in, as they dragged him back through the gate. The gate was closed and Lady Anne knew she was safe. The wounded soldier was tended to immediately, removing the arrow and seeing to the wound, stemming the flow of bright red soaking his sash and tunic. Aiden turned to Lady Anne, a desperate look for an answer on his face.

"The MacRae's. They've taken Donan and killed everyone, even my Hamish and I'm sure my daughter, Heather and son, Kyle, have suffered the same fate, or worse. I need tae speak tae yer cousin Grayson and warn him. We ha'e tae try tae take back Donan from them." Lady Anne's words were frantically spoken through her growing tears, but Aiden knew the seriousness of what she said.

Leaving her in the care of Robert, his older brother, he called the men to him in alarm. The small castle became a hive of activity, as men readied weapons along the walls and others raced to Aiden. In minutes, forty men were gathered around him, waiting for instructions. Glenn raced from the keep to Anne's side and heard the news from her. He hugged her tightly and shared a mutual grief at their loss. Rage filled Glenn immediately and bade Robert to tend to his aunt, as he joined the others ready to sail. 

"Donan's been taken by the MacRae's and Laird Hamish murdered. We must get tae Tioram wi' all haste and inform Lady Arabella of the troubles." Aiden informed them. "Tae the ships now and set oars."

The men raced for the birlinns, preparing for an attack by the enemy to stop them. They charged the shore en masse and found the MacRae's birlinn had already come about to return to Eilean Donan. Glenn MacDonnell, Lady Anne's oldest nephew and his men boarded and raised anchors and sails, the oars sliding into their locks and bringing them out into the deep water.

"Glenn, try tae cut them off. Don't let them get back and warn the others. We'll take Lady Anne tae Tioram and meet ye there. God speed yer way." Aiden ordered and helped Lady Anne aboard his birlinn.

As the other boats pulled out, the oars were set in the water and ten men pulled hard on them to gain speed. The MacRae's were a fair distance ahead, but with the wind and oars, they were gaining on them. Twenty hands held onto oars, arms and wood both strained to the limits of their capabilities, as in one fluid motion, they stroked out the cadence and rhythm of their rowing to chants. Aiden watched the scene from his birlinn, as they sailed in the other direction, then looked down at Lady Anne, shivering and distraught, feeling his blood start to roil with revenge. He placed his sheepskin around her and made her as comfortable as he could, holding her close for warmth and a sense of security.

Glenn worked the sail to its best advantage, showing his sailing abilities to be superior to Alistair's. As the MacRae's boat rounded the point back into the Kyle of Lochalsh, the winds shifted and dropped off, slowing their speed.

"Row ye lot, or we're as good as dead. They're gaining on us and we won't make it wi'out God's help and yer arms, now row!" Alistair shouted to them in angered fear. 

They slid the oars into their locks and pulled as hard as they could to maintain speed and distance from the approaching force. Glenn's men were pulling harder and were closing the distance rapidly. Even with the drop in wind power, their oars would close the gap and would soon have them in firing distance of their arrows. Far off down the loch, the sight of Eilean Donan could be made out and Glenn knew he had to beat them to the island in mid-channel if he hoped to over-take them. 

As if to answer his prayers, a breeze swept along the water and filled his sail with wind. He could feel his speed increasing and his hopes rose. As much as it helped him, it also helped the MacRae's to gain speed as well. He only needed a few hundred yards to close and his archers could send volley after volley of arrows onto the boat.

The island approached and the MacRae birlinn took the weak side of the island to pass. The winds died in strength, as the oarsmen struggled to maintain their distance. Glenn stayed to the south side and caught the channelled breezes, giving them the power to close the distance. As they passed the island, he looked over and saw the boat was almost level with his. He steered for them and readied his men.

"Keith, Donald, ready yer arras. The rest, keep pulling hard on they oars men. We ha'e them and they'll no make Donan again."

Keith and Donald readied their bows and waited for the signal to let them loose. Glenn steered for the MacRae birlinn and closed on them fast. When he felt they were within 

range, he ordered them to fire.

"Let loose men and may they find their marks." he shouted.

The sharp twang of the strings was heard and the two projectiles soared across the distance. Glenn watched closely, as one missed by a hair's breadth, while the other found its place in the neck of Alexander. Blood spurted in streaking arcs, showering William with his blood and in an instant, he was taken down with the force and lay wide-eyed dead beside him. Alistair looked over to the other ship and could see another volley being readied. Without time or protection, he waited for the release and hoped he would be spared. He hadn't expected attack and left without shields for protection, now all were waiting for God's grace to spare them, dread and doubt the masks they wore on their faces.

Keith had his sights trained on Alistair, while Donald concentrated on the next rower. In seconds, they released and the arrows whistled through the air. Glenn watched and saw both find their marks. Alistair was struck in the side of his chest and the force took him over the far side and into the dark, cold waters of the loch. The rower was struck in the neck as well, sending him sideways instantly and lay beside the other in deathly repose.

Glenn watched the body of Alistair float behind the birlinn, face down and knew he was dead. They tossed their grappling lines over the side of the birlinn and pulled the two together. Ten men climbed aboard and hacked down the remaining men, then tossed the lifeless bodies of everyone overboard. In moments, the two birlinns were turned and heading back up the loch, away from Eilean Donan.

From high on the tower, Blair watched, as his younger brother and cousins, along with three others, were left in the waters and their birlinn claimed by the MacDonald's. His face belied the emotions of grief and pain at the loss, but were soon replaced with worry. Worry that they hadn't succeeded in their mission and they were now in danger of a full attack by the clan MacDonald. He stared at the birlinns fading in the distance, mentally preparing for the trouble to come, as his blood churned with avenging those deaths and satisfying his blood-lust.

Glenn turned with a sense of being watched and looked towards the castle. He couldn't see anyone, but knew they were being watched. Before he turned back, he saw the thick, black smoke rising beside the castle. He knew in his heart what that smoke was from, as he turned away and sailed his boat into Kyle Rhea and on towards Tioram, to meet up with Aiden and the clan MacDonald. Grievous emotion filled him, as the unbearable loss was added up in his heart.

Aiden's boat was first to reach shore, where he leapt over the side, then helped Lady Anne over the side and carried her to the shore. He took her hand and raced her up to the castle where the clansmen were coming out to see what was going on. 

"Eilean Donan's been sacked by the MacRae's and they've killed Laird Hamish and all in the castle. Lady Anne escaped and made it tae Camus tae warn us. Is Lady Arabella in the castle?" Aiden informed his brethren, as they reached the entrance.

"Aye, her Ladyship is in her chambers. I'll run ahead and get her, Aiden. Take Lady Anne tae the hall, there's a good fire tae warm her and the men." Ranald MacDonald told him and raced away into the castle.

Aiden led Lady Anne to a chair beside the fire and sat her down. A woman servant came to her with a thick, wool blanket and wrapped her in it. Lady Anne smiled wanly at her, and thanked her.

"I'll bring a hot drink tae warm ye, M'Lady." she said, then hurried back to the kitchen in haste.

Lady Arabella appeared from the stairs and saw the mass of men in the hall.

"What's going on? Someone speak quickly and tell me." she ordered the men.

"Lady Arabella, it's the MacRae's. They've sacked Donan and murdered everyone, including Laird Hamish. Lady Anne escaped and made it tae us, tae warn us." Aiden told her.

"Where's Lady Anne?" she asked, her face going from stern to one of anxious concern instantly.

The men parted and she saw the frail and shivering woman sitting in front of the fire, tears in constant flow, as she grieved there. She hurried to her side and crouched.

"Anne, is it true? They've killed Hamish?" her eyes and face fully showing her sympathies and pain at the news.

"Oh Arabella, it was horrible. They came before first light and stormed the gate while it was open fer the carts tae come tae market. They spared no one, no even a lass or bairn, from what I seen. They're barbarians, Arabella. I fear fer my daughter as well, I ha'e no idea if she is alive or dead, or my son either." Lady Anne sobbed out past her grief, until she finished and broke down completely.

Arabella took her in her arms and comforted her. She looked up at Aiden and around to the others standing there.

"Go tae yer ships and assemble the clan. We set fer Donan and I want every MacRae dead by the morrow's nightfall." she ordered in disgust, at what she was told.

"We ha'e a boat chasing down the ones that were trying tae stop Lady Anne, M'Lady. If God is wi' us, they're all dead the now." Aiden told her.

"Ranald, take some men and ride tae the clans. Ha'e them assemble here at Tioram and we'll sail fer the castle, while another group ride ahead and we'll take them from the land bridge as well."

"Lady Anne, do ye know how many are there?" Aiden asked her, in as light a tone as he could.

"No, I ha'e no idea how many, but it did'ne seem like that there were that many who stormed in. There could'ne ha'e been more than twenty or so at best, I'm just no sure, Aiden." she choked out, then broke into tears again. Arabella hugged her to her bosom and comforted her, while looking at Aiden.

"Probably an advance group tae take the castle by surprise and hold it, while the rest come from Glencoe." Aiden opined his thoughts to Lady Arabella.

"Arabella, may I beg of a small favour from ye?" Lady Anne sobbed, with a pleading in her eyes.

"What is it, Anne?" her thoughts were that Anne wished the head of Blair MacRae to be handed to her, which she would gladly do herself.

"There's a man, Jacob Dornie. He was a fisherman close tae the castle. He brought me tae Camus, but he was killed trying tae save me. He lies the now in his boat, on the shores of Camus. I ask that his body be brought here and gi'en a proper burial befitting his deeds. Can ye do this fer me, Arabella?" her eyes held Arabella's, her hands grasping at her arms and pleaded to her that this meant a great deal to her.

"Aye, it'll be done, Anne." she said in compassion. "Aiden, send a boat back tae Camus and return wi' Jacob. Set a watch in the castle and station twenty men tae guard it. Send another up tae Dunvegan and warn them of the troubles as well. We'll need the help of the MacLeod's wi' this. Grayson is wi' Garreth, so make sure they both know and ha'e them come here." she ordered.

Aiden bowed to both Ladies and parted with several men to the castle courtyard.

"When Glenn returns, ha'e his men fetch Jacob tae me and then I want ye two, tae sail back and do as Lady Arabella has commanded." he ordered his two captains.

As he went to turn back into the castle, the lookout gave the signal two birlinns were sailing up the loch. Aiden raced from the castle, along with many others, hoping it wasn't a raiding party. They watched as they drew nearer, then the waving of hands signalled it was Glenn in the MacDonnell boat and his men sailing the one owned by the MacRae's. A rousing cheer went up that the enemy had been beaten and didn't make it back to Donan to warn the others. The birlinns pulled tight onto the coral beach and anchors were dropped. The men all leapt from the sides and came to shore. Aiden rushed to Glenn for the news.

"I see ye accomplished yer mission, Glenn, and secured another birlinn fer the MacDonald's. What of the MacRae's? Did ye see anything?" he asked in urgency.

"We took them at the island in the loch and left their bodies tae be eaten by the fish, Aiden. I did'ne get close enough tae see any movement, but a lot of black smoke was rising from beside the castle." Glenn knew in his heart what the smoke meant, but it was hard to disguise on his face what he knew.

Aiden looked into Glenn's eyes and knew what the smoke meant as well. He laid his hand on his shoulder to steady him, knowing some of his relatives were creating it.

"They'll be avenged, Glenn. Mark my words in yer heart, it shall be done." Aiden assured him with the strength of his conviction.

Within the passing of an hour, horses and riders were on their way to the surrounding clan members and two birlinns sailed out of Loch Moidart, manned with heavily armed troops. 

Arabella took Lady Anne to her chambers and had her rest. The servant came in with a hot drink of herbal tea and honey for both Ladies and placed it on the table by the bed. She bowed and exited quietly, as Arabella thanked her with her smile and the look in her eyes, before turning back to Anne and talked.

"What shall I do, Arabella? My life is ruined and that of all those in the castle." her eyes awash in tears, her face distorted with painful visions of what lay ahead.

"No tae worry, Anne. The seat of the MacDonnell's is Eilean Donan and so it shall be ag'in. We ha'e a contract of Manrent tae protect ye and so we shall." her words giving some comfort to Anne and her future. 

Anne weakly smiled up to her from the bed and took a few sips of the tea. Arabella stroked her head in comfort and smiled wanly back, knowing what lay ahead of her and Grayson, to take back Donan from the MacRae's.

She walked to the window and looked out at the still waters of the loch and remembered times past, when she had to take charge, after her father, John was killed. Her memory drifted back to her life as a child, playing happily about the castle, then to her education at becoming a knowledgeable Lady of the Clan MacDonald and a warrior in her own right. 



Blood of the Clans Ch. 05



The cold, damp winds of November fifteenth, were blowing against the hard curtain walls of Tioram. A roaring fire was bearing off the chill, when Isabella MacDonald cried out and gave a final push, bringing a baby daughter into the fold of the MacDonald Clan. Arabella breathed her first and started letting out her relief at being born, her new lungs tested to their capacity. Once cleaned and swaddled, Isabella took her new daughter, holding her to her breast and at once calmed and bonded with her. Isabella gently played with the faint wisps of light, red hairs on her head, what would soon be a thick mane of ginger curls in years to come.

Arabella grew up in the fashion most young girls of the clan did, playing games and helping with chores around the castle. Many a day was spent hiding throughout the many rooms and buildings within the thick stone walls that defined her safety, her cousins and friends all joining in to play Hide and Go Seek. She remembered how simple and care-free her life was then, seeing her friends married and gone now, only slips of paper keeping them together. 

Her first real adventure that she could remember, was with her father, John, standing at the prow of their birlinn, holding onto the figurehead of a winged horse. She loved feeling the wind and salty, sea spray misting her face, as they sailed to Dunvegan to meet the MacLeod's for the first time. She enjoyed being on the sea and riding out the waves, as they made their way along the coast of Skye, with its towering bluffs and craggy rocks. She felt safe and free with him, knowing she could reach out and explore the world, with her father watching out for her, keeping her from harm. She missed that feeling terribly in her heart, knowing it to always be a cherished memory of him.

Coming into the bay and seeing the playful grey seals swimming alongside, had her feeling the castle was enchanted. She watched as they came close and reached her hand out to touch them. Her father pulled her back and reminded her that they were wild and might think to eat her hand, as much as to let her touch them. From then on, she kept her hands inside and just peered over the side at them, watching them leap and dive, playfully enjoying being with them. She loved the place immediately and wanted to be in the castle and see what it was like. She remembered how impressive Dunvegan was, compared to Tioram, how her clan had spent money on more castles, while the MacLeod's had improved more upon the main one. Even now, she pictured its majestic Fairy Tower and grand facade in her mind and wished for Tioram to have some of its splendour.

Garreth was a boy of seven, when Arabella was introduced to him. She remembered standing beside her father, holding onto his kilt for security, while Garreth stood beside his father, picking at his tunic, which was getting too small for him. She found herself smiling at his discomfort, and wanting to make friends. A couple of smiles and a day of play, had them both looking forward to each time they would visit each others clan. In time, Grayson and Peadair joined in their fun and the four were as close as family. Many times she and Grayson spent a week at Dunvegan, while on others, Garreth and Peadair would come and stay with them.

Grayson eventually became Garreth's best friend over time, but Arabella held a place in her heart and shared a life-long friendship with him. He became her heart's desire at one point, her thirteenth birthday being the occasion, when Garreth placed a kiss on her cheek and wished her well on her day. Ever since then, he was her inspiration, when her thoughts turned to love. He became the spark of her lust the following summer, when she followed Grayson and Garreth, as they were hiking along River Shiel. She used her cunning to stay undetected and watched as they stopped to go for a swim. Arabella could feel her heart race wildly, as Garreth stripped off his tunic and then his kilt, granting her, her first look at a man's pride. She studied it to no end, admiring the movement as Garreth walked. Even now the memory caused a stirring in her. 

Before her fourteenth birthday, she found herself hundreds of miles away in France, gaining her education as a Chieftain's daughter, to become a Lady. The convent was one that would play a part in her life later, bringing another young lady from there into the bonds of her clan, one she had come to know well. By the time she left, the Sisters of Cathedrale de St. Pierre were relieved to see her go back. Arabella had presented them with a high-spirited highland lass, that tested them at every turn. Twice during her stay, she was threatened with expulsion. Once for her temper, when she took it out on an English girl for her demeaning attitude towards the Scottish people, which the sisters gave her a week of silence and again, for when she was caught touching herself in an inappropriate manner while bathing. 

Mother Superior informed her with great loathing at what she had sinfully done and laid a painfully, sharp switch across her ass cheeks. Arabella never did it again while she was bathing, but she remembered the wonderful sensations it gave, as she did it secretly in bed. It was a bitter-sweet moment when she received news of a marriage proposal from her mother. A young man named Logan MacLean, had made his interests known to her parents and they accepted on her behalf. From what her mother had told her, he sounded wonderful and her heart raced, wanting to meet him. It saddened her heart that she had to leave the convent and her new friend, Therese de Mornay behind. Tears were falling in abundance, as the two parted and watched each other disappear in the distance, as Arabella stood on the aft deck, waving farewell to her. 

The sail back to her homeland was longer than she would have liked, desperate to get back to her family and friends and a certain young man, who by way of correspondence, had let her know that he would be waiting for her return. As the small ship docked in Mallaig, the closest port to Tioram, Arabella stood on the deck, holding onto the rail, while strong, late-spring breezes gusted about her. She scanned the dock for signs of her family, as she had her luggage collected and brought to the pier.

Her eyes caught sight of their birlinn, tied to the dock far down the pier from her, so she scoured the faces of the many who were there and spotted her father and mother, along with her brother Grayson, now a tall, broad-shouldered young man of sixteen. His flaming mane of matching ginger that equalled hers, stood out amid the heads of browns and blacks that massed together.

Her heart stopped beating, as she caught her breath. Walking behind her parents with Grayson, dressed in his best highland garb, was her fiancee, Logan MacLean. Of all the descriptions she had been given, he was far more handsome and took her heart with his good looks. It took all of her newly-learned Ladyship qualities to remain reserved, as she came down the gang-way and greeted him for the first time. She bowed ever-so politely and accepted his taking of her hand and kissing it, but the twinkling in her eyes held the truth of her demeanour. She was caught in the spell of Love and it held her fast. It was hard to tear her eyes away from his blonde hair and grey eyes, before she greeted her parents warmly and hugged her mother especially tighter, enjoying the feeling of physically being with her again. The sense of being safe and secure once more with her father returned to her, as he held her close to him.

The short trip back to Tioram and her home-coming celebrations, had her whispering frantic questions to her mother on what she should do and what her mother knew of Logan, hoping she had learned more than what the letters had given her. Isabella smiled 

and in hushed tones assured her she would be very happy with him. Arabella sat beside her and looked at Logan standing next to her father at the prow, talking and laughing, as the waves crashed on the bow and sent sprays of salty mist in their faces and imagined herself there with him, his arm around her, holding her to him.

Throughout the celebration, Arabella was entertained and treated to gifts, but her focus of happiness remained on Logan. She could see he was becoming well-liked by Grayson and Garreth, sharing a great deal of laughter and storytelling, but Arabella couldn't help but wonder, if any of the whispered tales were about her. It never failed to make her heart jump though, each time she caught Logan looking at her and then smiling that certain way that she found endearing to her more and more.

Her engagement was one of the greatest times in her life, that she could remember, travelling to the Isle of Mull, to Duart Castle and meeting his parents, Laird Stirling MacLean and his mother, Lady Sarah MacLean. They had her welcomed as one of their own and given her own rooms. Many trips to and fro, had Arabella and Logan sharing many moments together. One moment that would always remain intensely significant to her, was the day Logan took her riding in the glens around Tioram. They knew in their hearts, that theirs was a relationship of great joy. One that far surpassed the traditional duties of being a Laird's wife.

As they lay amid the fragrant heather, Logan softly kissed her with passion, the touch of his lips to hers ignited the fire in her loins immediately, fanning the erotic sensations she d felt only a year ago. Her urgency to continue, came with her hands grasping into his long, dark hair, tangling her fingers into it and pulling him to her. No religious rites or traditions existed, as she felt herself giving herself to him, allowing her passion to go unchecked and unbridled. 

The wonder of feeling her body become bared to him, left her unashamed and wanting him to know her intimately, completely. In haste, Logan's tunic and kilt were shed without subtly, baring himself and his rising manhood to her. Arabella was fascinated with the appendage and knelt before him, as she took it tentatively in her hands, feeling its pulsing girth and stiffening length, then looked up into his eyes. What she found she enjoyed more, was seeing the pleasure she gave to Logan, as she touched it, the ecstasy showing on his face.

In that moment, she wanted him happier than he'd ever been. She wanted to please him in ways he had never known, but ones she would show him, the ones her lust-filled heart wanted him to know. For all her life, she would remember the sound of Logan's cries escaping from his lips, as she pleasured him. Watching him quiver and shake, knowing her touch was what was doing it. She wanted to give him more and kissed the swollen, purpled head she held in her hand. Her kisses continued, until she finally took it in her mouth and laved her loving attention to Logan, through his maddened erect state. She choked at first, as his seed filled her mouth when he released, but she accepted it, as if he was filling her loins, taking it all and hearing the low, grunting moans of fulfilled satisfaction, as he groaned out her name, his fingers showing their desire by clenching handfuls of her ginger tresses.

That moment of sharing themselves, led to many explorations at Tioram and Duart, to be with one another and share the new found delights of loving one another orally and physically in completeness. It was to set the standard of what they wanted their lives to be like together. To live in complete joy and happiness and share each other's love openly. 

But that would never come to last long. She had only been married to Logan for two years, enjoying her title as Lady MacLean, when Grayson sailed to Isle of Mull, to tell her their mother had died. She left Duart castle and her new life to pay respects and tribute to 

the beautiful woman who brought her into this world. Through all of her own grief, she cared for her father and brother, filling in the void as best she could, that her mother's passing had made.

Arabella was barely over the grief of losing her, when six months later, fighting broke out between the MacLean's and the Duke of Argyll. She was told to stay at Tioram, until the conflict was over, Logan wanting her safe. Her father and brother, along with two hundred clansmen, joined with the MacLean's in the fray, but lost the castle and Seat of Power to the Duke. In the course of the battle, she not only lost her father, who was her last bastion of family in her life, but her husband as well. Logan and his parents were killed, ending the title she held and the connection she had with them. The love of her life was gone, along with her lust for life and the joys it held. Her life had been shattered beyond hope of repair, never again to hold the joys she had just known.

With no time to truly grieve and without much celebration, she became the Chieftess of Tioram, while Grayson held sway on Skye, at Castle Camus. She ruled well and her clan prospered under her, taking in several, small clans under their banner. Their numbers grew to over five hundred around Tioram and two hundred around Camus in less than five years. They acquired four more birlinns, bringing the total to eight and increased the arable land for farming crops, as well as raising more livestock. 

Only once in her reign as Chieftess, did she have to defend the castle against attack. A dozen men tried entering the castle in the dead of night, in hopes of taking horses and anything of value. The alarm went up, when they were spotted by a sentry, trying to enter the keep. In moments, men were running about with swords brandished, looking for the intruders. Taking her father's sword, Arabella was down the stairs from her chambers and out into the courtyard, where she came face to face with two of them.

Showing no hesitation in fear, Arabella struck out with a blow to the first one, catching him unprepared and cutting his left arm off. As he stood in shock, she swung again higher and in as swift a motion, his head tilted dramatically to the side, before tumbling from his shoulders. The blood-spurting cavity fountained momentarily, before the body collapsed in a heap. Stunned by her attack, the other intruder held his sword in readiness to defend himself, as he watched Arabella prepare to attack him. Now noticing he was the only one left out of the twelve, he dropped his sword in surrender, as Clansmen massed about him. He knew he wouldn't be granted mercy, surrounded by MacDonald's out for blood. He knelt and bowed his head to Arabella, holding her sword high, in wait to his end, as he wished a swift death. With no sign of pity or grace, only the stony look of Clan justice set in her eyes, she raised the blood-stained blade high above her head. 

In a swift, arcing move, the head separated and rolled away, coming to rest beside the other one, still with the look of shock in its lifeless eyes. From that day forward, men whispered the fear of crossing her.  

Arabella wished a happier life for herself, but knew in heart, life would never be what she had known, what now seemed like a lifetime ago. She set about ruling her clan, sailing to others and encouraging trade and commerce with them. Her name became legend among the stories told about her, some true, some just fanciful wishing. Many a man tried to win her hand and heart, but none could compare to what Logan had given her and she would settle for nothing less.

Only one man had settled in a place in her heart since then, but her heart wouldn't allow her to pursue him. She feared the thought of loving him and losing him, once again feeling her heart ripped from her bosom. Braedon Stewart was as fine a man as she knew, raising three sons and leading his clan well, after his wife Glynnis, died during the birth of their last child. She shared in his grief at losing her and knew his loneliness well. They had 

an affection for each other and she enjoyed his company greatly, whenever they met, his feelings for her were clearly displayed in his eyes.

As she stood looking at the same view she had looked at almost all her twenty-three years, she saw how life had changed so much, but some things always remained the same. The changes she faced now were the most dire she had to consider. Hundreds of lives were to be put at risk by her command, her decisions making the difference between them living or dying.

She turned back to Lady Anne lying in the bed, the look of her pain and sorrow at her loss setting in deeply, as the consequences of it became her reality. Arabella knew in her heart that winning Eilean Donan back from the MacRae's, was worth the cost of those lives that would be lost. 

Once again, her heart knew pain. Once again, reminding her how hard her life can be. 

Tavish could see the sadness for Arabella growing on the looks of the women's faces. They could see that she'd been through more than any of them dared to ever have happen to them. Knowing her story, he wondered how their opinion would change, as more of her life was exposed to them. He sipped the golden liquid and pondered that thought, as he gently swirled the liquid around in the glass. 



Thank you for reading, please take a moment to vote and leave a comment, I appreciate your feedback.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 06



Glenn MacDonald stood at the prow of the black birlinn, his hand holding the figurehead of a grey dragon as they crossed the choppy waters of the inner sea on the way to the Isle of Skye, the thoughts of his kin slaughtered and burnt, still weighing heavy on him. As they approached the south shore, he yelled to the men in the other birlinn to make for Castle Camus and set up defences. He sadly saw the small fishing boat of Jacob Dornie, his arm draped lifeless over the side, the sail still flapping in the wind. No signs of enemy forces were seen anywhere and things looked peaceful.

"John, gather up Jacob and take him back tae Tioram, as Lady Arabella has ordered. I'll sail straight tae Dunvegan." Glenn instructed him, as his boat turned back to round the western point and sail north along the coast of Skye.

He watched as they landed and the men went into action. Before he rounded the point and lost sight of them, he saw Jacob's boat tied to the birlinn and the sail lowered, while two men were wrapping Jacob's body in their sheepskin robes. He bowed his head slightly and prayed for the soul of the brave man, knowing how vital his efforts were. In his heart, he felt that no greater deed could be done, than to give his all and give his life, for the sake of others. 

The boat made its way up the coast, then around the last point and sailed into Dunvegan Bay. The grey seals swam about the birlinn, as it neared the castle, welcoming them in. They had found safety in the waters of the loch and had become like members of the clan. They swam out with the men on their voyages, wishing them well in their travels.

Whenever they would return, they would greet them, like now, and break from the water, barking out to the men. Glenn could see the lookout signalling the others of their arrival and men coming to the shore to meet them. The cloudy sky cast wild, moving shadows over the towering walls of the castle, giving an effect of movement to the structure. The dense woods surrounding it teemed with abundant game and wildlife, as a flock of pheasant broke from the brush at the edge, as the men came to them.

Glenn saw Garreth and Grayson coming to the wall and hailed them. His urgency to inform them necessitated him jumping from the birlinn into the frigid water, before it was beached, Glenn raced up the sea-wall passage towards them, taking as many steps per stride as he could.

"Laird Garreth, Laird Grayson, Lady Arabella sends word tae make fer Tioram wi' all haste. Eilean Donan has been sacked by the MacRae's and Laird Hamish was killed. They slaughtered everyone in the castle as well. Lady Anne escaped and made her way tae Knock tae warn us. She's at Tioram the now. Gather as many men as ye can and sail back wi' us. Those are the orders given." Glenn relayed the commands to them and waited, breathing hard from the exertion.

"Glenn, ye ha'e cousins in that castle, Are they alright?" Grayson asked him, in hopes Glenn's people made it out.

Glenn's eyes fell and his head bowed and shook his answer. No words were needed to know he was in pain at his loss. Grayson and Garreth both laid a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Their deaths will be avenged, Glenn. Ye ha'e my word." Grayson assured him. 

"Mine as well, Glenn. The MacRae's shall pay fer this treachery." Garreth added in all seriousness, the tone of his voice belying his hatred of the MacRae's. Garreth patted his shoulder once more and looked into Glenn's eyes as he raised them. "It shall be done, Glenn," then turned and gave the command for all to assemble on the birlinns within the hour.

Grayson led Glenn back into the castle, into the great hall and over to a large desk holding several containers of spirits. He chose the one with the golden fire to it and poured the MacLeod drink into two silver cups. The highlanders raised their glasses and Grayson proclaimed, "Fad Saol Agat." (Long life to you), to Glenn. Glenn felt his heart breaking more, knowing his loss was shared by more than himself and his kin. They drank in one draft and set the cups on the table, then clasping hands to shoulders and without anything more than the look in their eyes, bonded in oath to set this injustice right. 

"Glenn, my heart is heavy fer yer loss, as though it was my own. Be strong and draw strength from their deaths. There will be time tae mourn, when we ha'e taken back the castle and done away wi' the MacRae's." Grayson told him, readying him to do battle. 

Glenn looked into the eyes of his cousin and saw the belief it would come to pass as he had said. He nodded his head in agreement and Grayson laid an arm over his shoulder and led him back to the birlinns, now being filled with men and arms. Garreth was standing at the entrance to the sea-wall passage, counting his numbers and making sure all that could be used, was being taken.

"Ladders. Ye two, go and fetch as many as ye can from the groonds and bring them as well." Garreth ordered two battle-ready men. 

They returned an ascent of "Aye, my Laird," and dashed for the equipment. Grayson and Glenn walked back and parted as they approached Garreth, Glenn heading to the boats, his shoulders slumped, as agonized rage was finding a place in his heart.

"Tis a good day tae make the swords red wi' blood, Garreth." Grayson said as he approached him.

"Aye Grayson, my arm is needy of my Claymore tae swing. It's been a while since we've last had a taste of action." Garreth responded. "How is Glenn, Grayson?" his concern for him more in his ability to fight, as opposed to his grief.

"He'll swing his sword at anything coming at him, Garreth, don'ne fear his spirit tae avenge this." 

Grayson smiled at him and went down the passage to the boats, now almost full with men and weapons. He could see the small cannons being loaded in preparation for any encounters on the way to Tioram. They would be his next purchase for his birlinns. One well placed shot could take a birlinn out of action from a greater distance than many arrows.

The two men came back with four ladders and raced down the passage, Garreth following behind. They boarded the birlinns and the men set to on the oars, rowing them out to the bay. Once they turned and faced out, they raised the sails, the wind catching them, and along with the oars, they sped up the bay. The grey seals swam along side as always as they left, the men looking at them and taking it as a good sign, wishing them well on their voyage and victory in their battles.

The voyage to Tioram felt longer than usual, as the men were anxious to get there and get into battle. They sailed into Loch Moidart in the late afternoon and soon were landing on the coral sand beach at the foot of the castle. The men disembarked and followed Garreth and Grayson into the castle grounds. Grayson entered and called out for his sister, who came down from her chambers upon hearing them. She led them to the hall and sat around the large table.

"Grayson, we're facing troubled times ahead, dear brother and Garreth, we beseech ye tae join in the fray. The MacRae's are a large clan now and we'll need every man we can muster tae re-take Donan from them and secure it before the rest arrive from Glencoe."

"Arabella, how is Lady Anne?" his heart knowing the answer before it was given.

"She's resting, but she's in misery o'er her losses." Arabella told him, her own face 

showing the pain she must be in. "I've sent riders out tae gather as many men as we can and ha'e them meet here."

"I've brought five birlinns wi' ten men in each. More are coming once they are massed." Garreth informed her.

"Good news, Garreth, we'll need yer experience on the seas in this. Grayson how long till we can get tae Donan by march?" Arabella asked her brother.

"Two, maybe three days march will ha'e us at the gate. It'll take the MacRae's almost as long, if they've already started out, which I'm sure they already ha'e." Grayson said, sharing his thoughts.

"Then we must make haste and re-take the castle and secure it, before they arrive. Donan is'ne going tae be easy tae take, if they make it there first." Arabella expressed in dread.

"How many are in the castle the now?" Grayson asked.

"From what Lady Anne said, there is'ne that many, no more than twenty at best." Arabella replied. "Glenn has said six are dead by the hands of his men, so that lessens them."

"I'll set sail at first light wi' my men and secure the seas against MacRae coming in that way. If I think we can do it, I'll storm the castle and take them." Garreth opined his thoughts of his plan.

"Yes, take yer men there now, but don't lay siege till re-enforcements arrive. We can'ne afford any losses at this point. We need every man we can, tae do battle once the main force arrives. Lord knows we face a tribulation at dealing wi' this." Arabella pointed out to him.

As much as Garreth nodded in ascent to her, Arabella could see in his eyes that Garreth might disobey her wishes and storm it if he felt he could. In her heart, she was torn between her feelings for his safety and her hatred of the MacRae's and the vengeance she wished upon them.

"I noticed a small fishing boat on the beach, who's is that?" Grayson asked her.

"That's Jacob Dornie's boat. He was killed by the MacRae's, trying tae get Lady Anne tae Camus, tae warn us. He's being laid out now and readied fer a burial at sea tonight. He deserves the best we can offer him fer his service and his bravery. It was Anne's only request." Arabella told him, her face showing the pity she felt at his loss.

"Aye Arabella, he'll be given a true warrior's send off. I'll assemble the men when it's time. Ha'e Gregor play the pipes fer him, as he's brought down. I'll have his boat prepared the now." Grayson told her, a softness in his voice rarely heard.

"Tomorrow, we'll go o'er the plans for the attack and look fer the best way tae take the castle. Tonight, let us talk of nothing sombre or sorrowful and after, we'll send Jacob off. I ha'e the servants preparing a feast of food fer everyone. I'd like to gi'e a wee bit of comfort tae Lady Anne, can ye help me do that?" Arabella asked them.

"Aye Arabella, we'll do our best tae do that. I'll make sure the men are'ne in the mood fer blood, till the morrow." Grayson assured her.

The three left the hall and joined the men in the courtyard, assembling them for instructions on what they needed to do now to prepare. Battle gear was assembled and brought to the courtyard for confirmation of what they had. For the rest of the day, men came and went, gathering what they could. By nightfall, the courtyard was packed with everything they could use to battle with. The ringing of steel, as it was sharpened with whet stones, rang about the castle walls, a razor's edge honed to each weapon. Arrows were hastily made and bows re-strung, to ready their gear to do it's best in the battle to 

come. By the time they were ready, most men would have no less than five blades on him to use.

Arabella called the leaders to come to the hall to feast, while the others had food brought to them in abundance, along with jugs of mead and ale. The servants set a large table for the men in the courtyard and let them to it. In the hall, wooden plates and metal cups were set, each man using his dirk to cut the meat and the fork to eat with. Arabella waited till all were present and seated before starting her speech.

"MacDonald's, MacLeod's and MacDonnell's, we sit here t'gether as brethren, kin of our fore-fathers. It has come upon us tae stand t'gether and show that we shall no be taken lightly. Our strength in union will prove who we are. I ask ye now tae raise yer cups and celebrate our clans. Lang may we reign in our castles." Arabella said loud and with strength in her voice, confirming her place as a Chieftess.

Just as she finished, Lady Anne appeared in the doorway, still ashen and weak, a wan smile on her face. Arabella's gaze to her had everyone turn towards her. Every man rose quickly and bowed to her. Lady Anne's eyes immediately welled with tears at the sight and went weak in her stance. Grayson, who was closest to her, rushed to her and steadied her. He led her slowly to his chair and sat her down. The men remained standing in respect, until she weakly waved her hand for them to sit again.

"My friends, I know in my heart that ye are. I can'ne begin tae express my gratitude and undying loyalty tae ye all. This heinous act has put us in a position of great peril and I can'ne begin tae thank ye all fer yer support in securing Donan again. It seems times of peace have come tae an end and we are once again faced wi' clans warring wi' each other. It is my sincerest hope our clans can re-take Donan wi' as little loss of lives as possible and I remain in hope it shall come tae pass soon. I raise my.." Anne stopped her speech, as she noticed she had nothing to raise to them.

A servant quickly poured a drink in a cup and hurried to her. "Thank ye." Lady Anne said to her and continued. "I raise my cup tae each and every one of ye and pray fer yer safe return." 

Everyone raised their cups to her and drank. Upon finishing, Grayson turned and crossed his heart with his right hand, closed in a fist, bowing his head, signalling his allegiance and respect for her. In an immediate show, every man did the same. Lady Anne began to weep in tears of joyous thanks at their display of respect to her. Arabella started to come to her, but Anne waved her off.

"I'll be fine Arabella, I'm just deeply moved by the show of respect tae my late husband and my clan." Lady Anne said, as she wiped her tears away lightly with her handkerchief.

A servant re-filled everyone's cup and as soon as she finished, Garreth took his and raised it again.

"Tae Lady MacDonnell and Castle Donan, lang may they rule together."

In unison, all the men and Lady Arabella replied with a single, "Aye" and drank.

Another place was set for Grayson, who sat to Anne's right now and the food was served to the table. Every person but Anne ate heartily and drank, though no one questioned her or asked her to eat, as they feasted on the oxen provided, along with potatoes, carrots and leeks. Once finished, the table was cleared of food and the servants took away the wooden platters, leaving the table barren, save their cups and jugs of ale and mead. Anne noticed the jugs being re-filled several times throughout the meal, and were now being drained once again, in her mind, each cup being drank in honour of someone now gone.

When Arabella felt the time for feasting was over, she rose, all the men rising with her.

"It is time tae bid a farewell tae a brave soul and honour his passing well. Tae Jacob Dornie, may his soul be in heaven now watching us." she saluted and raised her cup 

to him. All followed suit after replying, "Tae Jacob." Every cup drained in his honour.

Upon hearing the toast, the servants then carried Jacob's body, wrapped in linen and a broad swath of MacDonnell tartan laid over him, into the courtyard. Garreth, Grayson, Glenn and his younger brother Iain, picked up the poles of the stretcher he was laid on onto their shoulders. As they did, Gregor started to play the MacDonald pipe song, Spaidsearachd Mhic Mhic, as the procession started. The men marched slowly to the shore, where Jacob's boat had been prepared with oil-soaked kindling stacked high around the pyre he would rest upon.

The men laid him carefully atop the pyre and Anne took a moment to bid him a silent farewell, before taking one of the torches from Arabella. Arabella turned to the throng behind her and looked among the faces looking at her. She knew in her heart that some of them might be sent off this way soon, the battle claiming more lives, than the one now being honoured. She gathered her thoughts on what to say and spoke from her heart. 

"I want ye's tae look at this man who lies behind me. Know his honour well and pay a mind tae it. He has shown the courage of his convictions and gave his all fer the sake of every life, but his own. No greater deed can be shown, than the bravery of a man who'll lay down his own life, fer that of another. This man, Jacob Dornie, has done just that. What worth his life held before today, means nothing now, in light of what he has shown us. Lady Anne stands wi' us now and Donan is'ne lost, because of what he has done fer our clans. Let us pay homage and honour tae him, as he deserves. Great Father in heaven, hear our prayers and take Jacob tae yer side. No man more than him, has shown he deserves tae be granted that place wi' ye. We send him tae ye now, tae be at peace and ha'e eternal rest fer his soul." then turned around again and motioned for Anne to join her in lighting the pyre. 

They lit the sticks surrounding him,then tossed their torches on as well. Arabella saw the distraught look grow on Anne's face, as she recalled the days events and the brave deeds done, as well as the cost for them. Arabella pulled her to her and comforted her, with Anne accepting the offering of comfort and shedding her grief into the light blue of Arabella's dress.

The oiled wood caught quick and spread rapidly about the body, as the men pushed Jacob and his beloved Fiona out into Loch Moidart. The pitch black was illuminated by the flames, as they consumed the craft, lighting the faces of those on shore. Once again the air was filled with the haunting sound of a lone piper, as Gregor played a dirge in farewell to a fallen comrade. As the boat drifted further away into the loch, the flames engulfing the boat completely, everyone stood silent in tribute to him, taking a passing glance towards Anne being held up by Arabella.

As the boat finally burned to the ribbing and started to sink, all the men drew their swords and raised them high, holding them for a full minute, before returning them to their sheaths. As one, they turned to go back to the castle, Arabella taking Anne's arm to help her back up the slope. Only one stood at the shore and watched, as the final remnants of Jacob Dornie's life sank below the dark surface of Moidart. Glenn MacDonnell knew in his heart, that the ceremony he just witnessed, would be the closest to one he could have for his own kith and kin, whose charred bones now lay along the muddy bottom of the loch. The silent tears fell from his eyes, as he relived times past and moments shared with those he had loved and lived life with so dearly.

                           **********

Debra had tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the tale and turned her face into Tom's chest to cry. Tom comforted her and looked at his uncles in a sympathetic way, thinking they could have toned down the heart-wrenching angst. 

"Sorry Debra, but that was how it was back then. I'll stop fer the now, until yer calmed down ag'in." Stuart told her, looking at Tom and giving a look of sympathy to him. 

The other guests took the break to talk among themselves and relieve themselves of liquid and stiffness from sitting. Stuart turned to Argus, now that he had a chance and asked him how he was.

"Argus, tis indeed a pleasure and an honour ye came. How ha'e ye been? It's been ages since we last saw one another."

"Aye Stuart, it has been a while, hasn't it? Me, I'm good, nothing much tae bother me about. But I do ha'e something tae share wi' ye, once ye've finished the story. I must say, yer a grand teller, so ye are." Argus told him.

"What have ye got fer me then?" Stuart asked, wanting to know what it was.

"No, I'll save it fer later. I don't want tae spoil the evening fer ye or yer guests." Argus countered.

"It's no bad news ye've brung me, is it?" Stuart asked in concern.

"No, but I'm sure ye'll find it interesting all the same." Argus assured him. "It can wait till it's o'er before I tell ye. It's interesting though, that yer talking about they times. I'll gi' ye a wee hint. It has tae do wi back then."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 06



"

It's tae do wi' back in Garreth's time?" Stuart asked, receiving a nod from Argus. "And yer no going tae tell me, are ye?" to which Argus shook his head. "So, I'm left wi' no say in the matter, am I?" Stuart said, looking at him with curiosity.

"No, yer not. So gi'e us a good tale and then I'll tell ye my news and why I came tonight." Argus said calmly, with a large dose of mischief underlying his tone.

Stuart smiled in defeat at not getting Argus to tell him. Argus smiled back in victory and raised his glass of Laoch Deoch a MacLeod to him.

"Here's tae the MacLeod's, Lang May Yer Lum Reek (Long May Your Chimney Smoke)." Argus stated to Stuart proudly.

"Aye, thank ye Argus, and tae ye as well." Stuart replied, as he held his glass up to him.

Both downed the golden nectar and let out a satisfied breath, both replying, "Dram bu' Idich."

Everyone was returning to their seats and Debra had calmed down enough that Stuart felt he could continue. He motioned for everyone to quiet again and started back into the story. 

"The next morning, as the dawn broke o'er the mountains in the east, the great Ben Nevis was still casting its long shadow o'er the highlands."





Votes and comments are always greatly appreciated, thank you.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 07



Garreth had his men roused before the sun had finished breaking over the mountain tops. The birlinns were loaded the day before, so all he had to do was prepare them for the battle plans.

"Clansmen, we sail fer Donan tae guard the passage from the sea. There's no question they'll see us from the castle, but we need tae get as close as we can, tae see how many men are there. We'll make camp on the shore tae keep watch on the castle, as well as the sea, until the MacDonald's and MacDonnell's march o'er land. Tae the birlinns, MacLeod's. We sail for Donan and glory!!!"

A rousing cry of, "Hold Fast", went out among the men as they boarded the birlinns. Garreth turned to Grayson and Arabella once he finished.

"Be there soon, Grayson. Don'ne leave us tae long, so we get weary of waiting fer ye. I'll be looking fer yer signal in two days hence. God speed ye and yer men, my friend." Garreth held his hand out to him and both clasped each other's wrists and held fast, a look of trust and respect for each other passing between them.

"No tae worry, Garreth. We'll be there and ready fer MacRae blood tae stain our blades." Grayson's eyes telling him it would be so.

Garreth turned to Arabella as they let go. She looked at him with affection in her eyes and held her hands to him. Garreth took them in his own as she spoke.

"Garreth, ye mind what I've told ye. Don'ne attack until we all arrive. Lord knows I will be flaming if ye do. Take care of yerself and God be wi' ye." Arabella told him, a mix of determined strength and affection coming through in her words.

Grayson saw the looks passed between them and pondered their meaning, leaving them in his thoughts, as Garreth turned and made for his birlinn. He looked at his sister, as she looked at Garreth and saw her face redden when she noticed he was looking at her. He smiled and quickly mounted his horse and turned to his men. "The day is upon us men, tae show those who stand against us, that we are kin and stand together as one. None shall stop us. Now, we march fer Donan and victory." he shouted out to them. The roar becoming deafening as they responded.

With a quick smile to Arabella, he turned and galloped to the head of the troops. The men formed lines quickly and soon, the dust rose from the hundreds of feet and hooves pounding the earth. Before long, the sound faded and the dust settled, leaving Arabella standing alone, watching the last of the men disappear over the hill, when a call rang out from the tower that sails were coming into the loch.

Arabella turned and saw a man carrying a bag over his shoulder. "Ye there, yer name." she commanded him.

"Harold, M'Lady."

"Harold, go tae the men and ha'e them return, GO!!!!" her command as forceful as she could make it, hastening the villager to re-act.

Harold dropped his sack and was off running as fast as his feet could carry him, yelling at the top of his lungs for the last of the troops to hear him.

Arabella turned and looked up to the lookout in the tower and shouted up to him.

"How many sails? Are they friend or foe?"

The lookout peered up the loch and made a count. He strained to see any markings he recognized on the sails. Finding one he knew, his face took on a look of great happiness 

and yelled back down. "Five sails and they're friendly. It's the Stewart's!"

Arabella looked down the channel and saw the sails wending their way for the beach. As they neared, she heard the sound of horses coming from behind her. Grayson and Glenn 

rode up to her in haste, stopping in a cloud of dust and dismounted quickly.

"What sails, Arabella?" Grayson said quickly.

Arabella smiled and turned, pointing into the bay at the sails now coming into view from 

behind the castle. "Those sails, dear brother. The Stewart's."

Grayson's face beamed as he looked, as did Glenn's. The bottom's of the birlinns scraped into the coral beach and five men jumped down from the lead boat. A bushy mane of bright, red hair adorned the heads of three, while the other two were fair-haired blondes. Braedon Stewart stood six feet, two inches and a girth around his chest like an ox. For all his size and strength, he had a face of handsome features, his brilliant blue eyes capturing the attention of most. His sons were possessed of the same good looks, some having their mother's beauty in them as well. 

The red tartans on them were all glowing vividly in the morning sun, adding to the crimson aura they seemed to cast. Cameron, Braedon's eldest son, was growing up to look just like his father, possessing the same blue in his eyes, while his brother had a darker, but still entrancing shade to them. The fair-haired two were his kin, his cousin's sons spending their formative years with him and learning the skills to be warriors and leaders of men.

"Grayson, greetings. I was just out fer a wee sail and thought I would drop in tae see ye and Arabella." Braedon said smiling, as he approached, his hand extended as he spoke.

He shook Grayson's wrist strongly and then turned to Arabella. His eyes met hers and for a long instant, they connected. He softened his smile to one of warmth and his hand took hers gently. 

"Arabella, lovelier each time I see ye and always a pleasure." he said in an affectionate turn and kissed her hand, keeping his eyes locked on hers, Arabella accepting the affection. "So, what are ye good folk doing on this lovely morning?" Braedon finished saying to them all.

"Aye, Braedon, we're just off for a wee visit ourselves, tae Eilean Donan. Seems the MacRae's ha'e come tae visit and ha'e no been nice guests, so we're going tae teach them some manners." Grayson jested back, but letting Braedon know full well, they were off to do battle.

"So I've heard. News has travelled tae me fast. I know ye don'ne ha'e enough birlinns fer all yer men, so I thought I could send along a few, tae help out wi' things. Would yer men care tae sail wi' a few of us tae Donan?" Braedon joked back, offering his alliance to them in the battle.

"Braedon, I can'ne thank ye enough. I can ride fast wi' my men on horseback and be there by the morrow's morn. Make sure they save us a pot of something tae eat, we'll need a wee something before we start out in the morning." Grayson said in earnest humour.

"Aye, we can at least do that fer ye." Braedon replied and winked with a smile.

The two held each other's shoulders and hugged in bonding, then clasped the wrists of their right arms in allegiance once more.

"Are ye okay here, Arabella?" Braedon turned and asked her in concern.

"Aye, I am Braedon, thank ye." she smiled back, with a small curtsey.

Their eyes met again and a flush grew on Arabella's cheeks. Braedon smiled a little warmer at her after noticing. Grayson and Glenn watched the inter-action between them and then looked at each other and Grayson smiled, knowing what it was all about, Glenn looking puzzled. Grayson turned Glenn away and walked back to the horses.

"E'en in battle, Glenn. Ye ne'er know when it'll just come up and slap ye in the face." Grayson said laughing quietly to him.

"What's that, Grayson?" Glenn replied, not knowing the answer.

"Love, ye fool. Did ye no see the look on they two faces? The way they looked at each other? Are ye blind, or just daft?" Grayson joked with him.

"Really? Ye think Laird Braedon has affections fer Lady Arabella?" Glenn asked him back.

"If that's no love, Glenn, I don'ne know it either. Ride and bring the men back. The riders can keep going, we'll catch up tae them shortly." he told him and turned his head, hearing Arabella laugh.

He looked at Braedon taking Arabella's arm, to go up to the castle, Arabella playing the proper Lady now walking with him, holding her poise as she was taught as a young girl. Grayson looked back at Glenn, then cocked his head back towards the two walking away together. 

"Like I told ye Glenn, love" Grayson smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder, Glenn smiling as he understood and then jumped quickly onto his horse, turning it quick and riding back.

"Stewart's come wi' me and share a dram, before we part." Grayson said heartily, as he put his arms over the shoulders of the middle two Stewart's, guiding them up to the castle.

The five followed behind Braedon and Arabella, watching them interplay with jokes and a growing fondness. Glenn had the troops turn and head back to the shore for a very welcome boat ride, then he directed the riders to head off as planned and that he and Grayson would be along soon. He rode back, taking Grayson's horse and rode up to the castle, entering it. 

He saw an older villager, sitting on a stool, lovingly stroking a cat and asked him to watch the horses, while he was inside. He smiled at him and put his hand on his shoulder in thanks, as the old man smiled a toothless smile back and gave a slight bow, as he took the reins. The horses immediately took to him, as he patted their snouts gently, nuzzling him and showing an affection. Glenn found it a bit odd, that they took to him so fast, as he kept walking, hastening his speed, as he entered the keep. 

Inside, Arabella and Braedon were still engaged in pleasantries, standing beside the fire, while Grayson, Robert and the four Stewart's were standing together, Grayson pouring hearty cups of the clan drink for each.

"One more, Laird Grayson." Glenn said striding up.

"I ha'e one here fer ye, Glenn. Come, drink wi' us and we'll bid good cheer tae our friends and allies." Grayson replied over his shoulder to him, before turning back to his guests.

Glenn reached the table and took the lone cup and held it up with the others. Cameron Stewart, Braedon's oldest son at sixteen, looked at everyone and spoke, while Braedon and Arabella stood away from everyone and watched.

"Grayson, long ha'e we held oor allegiance tae the Lord of the Isles, the Donald's. We'll stand wi' ye against the MacRae's, or any other clan who challenges ye. That allegiance stands fer the MacLeod's as well." 

Braedon stopped himself drinking at hearing the words his son spoke, and affirmed what his son said. "Aye, the MacLeod's ha'e been our allies in the past and come tae our aid when needed." Cameron saluted to his father for adding that, before continuing.

"True, Father, let us salute tae oor joining and declare a victory now." Cameron finished, then took a drink.

The others drank as well, then Grayson spoke out. "I accept and honour our allegiance, Stewart s of Appin. Our clans will grow together in friendship and trade. Tae the Stewart's." Grayson toasted and drank back the rest of his drink. 

The others followed in suit and tossed back the last of their drinks. The younger members were shaking their heads and making faces at the strength of it and the burning taste it left in their mouths. That brought a chuckle from the older ones, as they smiled at each other.

"I ha'e decided tae stay wi' Arabella and make sure she'll be all right. Ye four know enough tae get them there and back now, sure." he said to his sons and nephews. "Grayson, take 

good care of my lads, see that they don'ne get themselves intae any trouble. I'm depending on ye." Braedon said, as he approached him. "Ye take care as well my friend." he ended with, as he took Grayson's wrist, looking into his eyes, speaking more with them, than any words.

"Braedon, my eternal gratitude fer yer aid. Wi'out it, the battle could be far different in MacRae's stead. I'll keep yer kith and kin safe, they'll ne'er be in harm's way. That's my promise and oath tae ye." Grayson assured him. "Now, ye four must get my men tae Garreth, he can'ne be no more than a hour's journey ahead and assist him in guarding the waters off Donan, nothing more, am I understood?" he said sternly, as he looked at all of them, stopping at Cameron for the most effect, knowing he was in charge of his kin and wanting him to know he spoke in all seriousness.

Cameron looked at Grayson and then to his father, seeing that his desire to see action was denied, then looked back and bowed his head. "I understand, Laird Grayson, yer orders are clear." to which the four crossed their right arms over their chests to him, 

Grayson doing the same to them, before they left the hall. 

"Glenn, we tae must ride hard tae catch up, so we best be going as well. Braedon, take good care of my sister till I get back." he said with a wink and a smile.

"I will Grayson, I gi'e ye my promise." Braedon said back with mirthful pleasure, taking Arabella's hand and holding it on his elbow, then more seriously, "Grayson, God speed yer way and guide yer hand."

Grayson looked back and bowed his head slightly to him and then looked at his sister once more, smiling, before turning and hastening out of the hall with Glenn and Robert right behind him. They entered the courtyard and found the old man still patting the horses, the reins unchecked. As Grayson and Glenn took the reins of their horses, they refused at first to leave the old man, until he motioned for them to go with their riders. The horses immediately obeyed him and allowed them to be taken.

"Thank ye, Fletcher, yer a good man, yer aide was greatly appreciated." Grayson told him, a mild look of disbelief on his face still.

"Ye've done well my friend, I thank ye as well." Glenn told him, patting him on the shoulder once again.

Painfully, the old man bowed fully to them, as they mounted, then rose again to raise his hand in farewell. Grayson and Glenn waved, as they rode out of the castle and along the path of land, the hooves now splashing in the rising tide. Grayson knew the castle was now well protected, till the tides changed again. They reached solid ground and sped along the trail of Loch Moidart to the head and onward through the valley of the mountainous peaks, shadowed from the mid-morning sun. Both Grayson and Glenn seemed surprised at the way their horses ran with such speed, as they closed the distance rapidly on the others.

The Stewart's birlinns were loaded and Robert was helped up by Cameron, as they set out in a fleet back up the loch to the inner seas, rounding the Isle of Shona and disappearing north up the passage towards the Kyle of Lochalsh. Arabella and Braedon watched from the tower, as the thickening fog rolled in and closed off the view of the sea. By the time they had reached the ground again, the fog was sweeping along the loch and engulfing Tioram in a grey shroud, the wet mist laying a coat of water over everything, soaking whatever lay bare to it. They sat in the hall by the fire, talking of the possibilities of the outcome and how to prepare for them, as they drank a hot, herbal tea, laced with some whisky, to fend off the chill.

Garreth had his birlinns sail as close to Donan as he could, to look it over and judge the 

defences of the MacRae's. Not a person could be seen on the parapets or along the crenellated walls. It was as though the place was deserted and not a soul was to be seen. As his boats turned away to moor at a safe distance, the roar of cannon fire was heard. In moments a large spray of water rose less than a hundred feet away. As the men in the birlinns readied the oars, another roar of a cannon was heard. The men waited for the shot to land, this time landing broadside of the last birlinn. 

"Row men, pull on they oars or the next one'll be up yer kilts." Garreth shouted back to them.

The oars were in the water with haste, the men pulling hard and fast, to gain speed and distance. Another booming roar came from the castle, but not a man stopped rowing. The second from last birlinn took the hit, the rudder area disappearing from the rest of the boat. In shock, the men stopped rowing, as they noticed the entire rear section missing, the boat rocking violently from the impact. In an instant they realized too, that John MacDonnell was no longer with them either. They pulled hard on the oars again, trying to make for land, the water rushing up the open section and filling the boat. The last birlinn pulled along side and the men started unloading the gear onto it. Another stopped and rowed backwards, pulling up along the port side of the boat. The men jumped aboard, as the battered birlinn took on heavy water and sank slowly into the bay. 

"Make fer the island and tend tae any wounded." Keith MacDonald, Grayson's oldest cousin, yelled to them from his birlinn.

The other birlinns were pulling into a small cove in the sandy island, well out of reach of cannon fire, as they beached the boats on the shore and disembarked. They stood looking at Eilean Donan in the distance and took stock of their situation. The last two birlinns beached and unloaded, all the men gathering around Garreth.

"Did we lose any men?" he shouted to them.

"Aye, John MacDonnell's gone, but we managed tae save the weapons and the rest of the men, only some gashes tae mend, but they ll still be able tae fight." Argent MacDonald shouted to him.

"We'll make fer the shore and set camp. Two scouts will make fer the shore o'er there and see if we can see hoo many are stationed there. Lady Anne felt there were'ne anymore than a dozen or so, twenty at best. We know three are dead at Glenn MacDonnell's hand, so they don'ne ha'e that many men guarding it. Once we know more, we can make a plan fer attack." Garreth informed them, drawing in the sand, letting everyone know what he was thinking.

"Sails!" A cry went out.

Everyone turned quickly to see a number of sails coming down the loch. Colourful sails, held taut with the strong breeze blowing in.

"Friend or foe?" Garreth shouted out.

"I don'ne recognize any markings, Laird Garreth." A soldier shouted out from the head of the men.

Garreth made is way through the men to look for himself. His eyes strained to make out the crest on the middle ship and saw the gold sunburst in the middle of the red field of sail with broad gold stripes running vertically.

"That's the Stewart's coming. God has gi'en us a blessing this day. If I miss my count, we ha'e another two hundred joining us." Garreth relayed with excitement in his voice.

A rousing cheer went up, many holding their Claymores high. In the distance, many men on board raised their swords and returned a loud, roaring cheer. As they neared, they could start making out faces and realized it was their troops on board. The birlinns came ashore and men poured from the sides and came up to them. 

"Laird Garreth, we've brought along some help fer ye. My father thought ye could use a hand getting yer men here a wee bit sooner." Cameron said striding up to him.

He held his hand out and Garreth took his wrist and clasped it tightly in thanks.

"Cameron Stewart, yer turning intae a fine, young man. I owe yer father a great debt fer this kindness. We can look at attacking noo and taking the castle back, before the other MacRae's arrive." Garreth informed him.

"I am at yer service, Laird Garreth." Cameron told him proudly.

Robert MacDonald approached Garreth and whispered to him.

"Laird Garreth, Laird Braedon's lads are'ne tae see battle. Laird Grayson made a vow tae him, they would'ne see danger and return them safely tae Tioram." 

Noting the message without expression, he turned to Cameron and talked in confidentiality. 

"Cameron, ye can best serve me by commanding the troops tae the shore across the way and setting up camps. When the battle starts, ye and yer men will be needed, tae tend tae the wounded and collect the dead. It's yer father's bidding that ye and yer kin are'ne tae see battle or put ye in danger. I'll honour that request." Garreth told him in hushed tones, so the others didn't hear and diminish him in their eyes. 

"But Garreth, I am of an age tae fight. I've been practising and I'm ready." Cameron pleaded to him quietly.

"I think ye may be ready tae, Cameron, but I must abide by yer father's wishes. Honour me and the men by taking they positions fer me. It's a great deed ye'll be doing fer us." 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 07



Garreth replied, making it clear Cameron would not see battle.

Cameron looked down in defeat, but agreed to abide by the Laird's command of his father's wish.

"Listen tae me." Garreth boomed out. "Cameron Stewart will be in command of making camp and

readying the birlinns fer battle. His word is command." Garreth said strongly, seeing Cameron straighten in pride, at being named a Captain.

"All birlinns make fer the shore noo. When we land, I want all gear unloaded and stacked together. Coll, see tae it the tents are raised and fires lit. Griffin, make ready the stores of food. Laird Garreth, shall I send a couple of men tae scoot the area?" he said proudly, showing he was ready to be part of a battle as much as he could.

"Good Cameron. Ye two men, when ye get ashore, take arms wi' ye and scoor the area and make it safe. Report tae Cameron when ye get back." Garreth ordered again, then turned away and looked at Cameron smiling and winked at him, letting him know he was learning well.

Cameron walked along the sandy beach and watched, as the men re-boarded the birlinns and rowed across. Garreth's birlinn and four men waited, as Garreth stood and looked at the castle, pondering his plan with a stick in the sand. Cameron stood beside him and looked as well.

"What are yer plans, Laird Garreth?" Cameron asked him, seeing the scratching in the sand.

"I'm looking at where we can attack from and raise ladders tae scale the walls and enter. E'en wi' only a few men, they can hold us off from getting in. They have cannons that can take us oot as we approach from the water. We lost one birlinn and John MacDonnell, save a few cuts on the men, that's oor losses so far. I ha e tae find a way of reaching the castle and raising the ladders though and try tae no lose any more." Garreth told him as he thought, pointing to what he was looking at.

"I ha'e a thought, my Laird, if ye'll listen tae it." Cameron asked him, 

"What do ha e on yer mind, Cameron?" Garreth turned to him in hopes he had something of use.

Cameron pointed at the flatter land further up the point the birlinns were sailing to. "If we wait until dark, we can bring they boats o'er land tae Loch Long and cross well oot of cannon fire. The men can approach the castle under the co'er of the trees along there." Cameron pointed out. "While they do that, more boats can sail across tae the mouth of Loch Duich and land wi'oot worry of being fired on. When ye're ready, ye can approach from both flanks and weaken their forces by making them spread oot around the castle tae defend every side at once." Cameron pointed out to Garreth, scratching it out in the sand.

Garreth looked incredulously at the young Stewart. "That's a brilliant plan, Cameron. Ye've learned well from yer father in waging a battle. Let's join the others and I'll tell them of the plan. Well done, Cameron, I'll make sure yer father knows of yer help." Garreth told him, as he slung his arm over his shoulder and walked him to the birlinn. 

They jumped in and soon the men had rowed it onto the opposite shore and joined the others. Everyone disembarked and pulled it up onto the beach further.

"Cameron, see tae the camp and that the birlinns are prepared fer battle. When you're done, come back tae me here." Garreth told him.

Cameron walked proudly and gave orders to have all the powder and charges, as well as shot for the cannons aboard the birlinns dispersed equally. He strode further up on the shore and had six men start setting the tents and food stores. He ordered the two MacDonald men to take bows and arrows and make sure they were secure from attack. In a thought, he added,

"If ye happen tae see some game. a good feast oor first night will do us good." He told them and walked back to Garreth, who was standing with his Captains, going over strategies.

"Here he is. Cameron, show us what yer plans are fer crossing and approaching the castle." Garreth said as he crouched and brushed the sand smooth for him to draw it out.

Cameron drew the outline of the point they were on and then the two lochs, the position of the castle drawn last. Using the stick, he showed where they could drag the birlinns overland and into Loch Long, well out of cannon range. Then he showed where they could land and approach the castle under cover of the dense woods. He then showed the route the other birlinns could take and make for Loch Duich and land, ironically without knowing it, where the MacRae's had left their birlinn. He used his fingers to show how the troops could make it to the edge of the woods before they were in open land. With a quick dash to the far side of the bridge, they could approach behind cover, almost up to the castle wall. Many of the Captains looked at the plan and then each other, before looking back at Cameron.

"I think we ha'e oor way tae the castle, noo we need tae find a way tae get tae the walls and raise the ladders. If we can get in, it's as good as taken. But they can take us oot easily if we try. If we storm it all at once, we can over-whelm them with arrows, but I fear we'll have heavy losses if we do." Garreth told them.

"I ha'e another thought on hoo we can get tae the walls and ha e no fire on us." Cameron suggested.

All the men turned to him now and listened intently, Garreth showing his interest in it with great enthusiasm.

"I'm all ears fer it, Cameron. Tell us what ye ha'e."

"What I was thinking is this, They ha'e us beat wi' cannons if we approach by sea and they ha e the open land between the trees and the bridge tae hold us off with arras. What might work is if we make them concentrate on defending from the land side, we can approach 

wi' a birlinn and quickly raise a ladder here. A couple of archers tae give them co'er and in no time, we should be able tae ha e twenty men o'er the wall and attack any defenders from behind."

Everyone stood and looked at Cameron and then to Garreth. Garreth looked at the plans scratched into the sands and could see how it could work. 

"Once again, oor friend and ally, Cameron Stewart, has gi'en us a plan of attack that provides us wi' the best way in." he said looking at Cameron. "Cameron, this is the best plan I think any of us could come up wi'. I agree that we try it." Garreth told him and then looked at the Captains. "I want ye commanding the attack from the shore, Cameron. I'll command the crossing party up here on the point." Garreth stopped and looked about the men. "Peadair, take the birlinns doon Duich and wait on the coast there fer the signal. Both of us will be able tae see ye here Cameron, and ye'll see both of us. When everyone is in place, send a flaming arra intae the bay tae signal us that everyone is ready."

"Aye, Garreth." Cameron ascended, not using his title, in an attempt to feel equal to the men standing around him. Garreth looked at him casually and let it go, understanding the value of Cameron to the cause and allowing him some stature.

"Fer the noo men, let's make camp and get some food, I'm famished and could eat an ox myself." Garreth said smiling to them, feeling better about what lay ahead. 

He took Cameron to his side and walked with his arm over his shoulder into the throngs of men busy setting up camp and building fires. Cameron gave some instructions to the men to prepare a meal for everyone.

"Ye'll make a good warrior and a good leader of men one day Cameron. Ye ha'e what it takes tae lead them. Yer father will be prood tae know hoo ye've helped wi' the battle plans and aided me." Garreth said proudly to him.

"I wish I could do more. I want tae be in the battle and show my skill wi' a sword." Cameron told him.

"Ye feel ye're good wi' a Claymore, do ye? Let's see what ye've learned so far." Garreth said to him and released his arm from around him. In a fluid move, his hand withdrew his sword and stood at the ready.

Cameron smiled his joy at getting to prove himself. He slid his sword from its sheath and 

took a stance to counter Garreth's.

"Very good, Cameron." Garreth told him and moved his footing quickly, putting him in a better attack position.

He brought his sword around quickly on Cameron's weak side. In a quick move, Cameron was countering and blocking. The swords rung out with a clash of steel and the men turned to watch.

Cameron rotated his blade and Garreth blocked his move. Soon, the two were striking and 

blocking in an intense set of moves. The men started cheering on Cameron, giving him more confidence to best Garreth and show his skill. After an attacking thrust, Garreth had left his side open and Cameron took the chance and smacked Garreth with his blade on his arse. In a quick spin, Garreth using both hands, curled his blade around Cameron's, twisting it out of his hand and sending it spinning end over end into the sand twenty feet away. A rap of the blade on Cameron's rear end, signalled the end of the lesson and an embarrassed young Stewart.

"Ye've learned well Cameron. Ye handle yer sword quite well. The telling s in whether ye can still fight like that when men are rushing at ye tae kill ye. I've seen many great swordsmen falter when they were faced wi' death, and they died standing there, wi' shock 

and fear on their faces and in their eyes." Garreth told him plainly, but with seriousness in his intent.

Cameron looked at him and re-sheathed his sword. "I know I'll do well in battle Laird Garreth. Why won't anyone gi' me the chance tae prove myself?" He asked him with indifference to what he'd been told.

"When yer father thinks ye're ready tae take yer place beside him, when ye go intae battle, that'll be his decision alone tae make. No mine or any other man." Garreth told him in such a way it had a finality about it, that Cameron could not rebuke. 

Cameron looked forlorned and walked away feeling diminished again in his self-worth. He went and stood with his brother and two cousins, who were anxious to know what it was like sparring against Garreth. Garreth stood and looked at him, remembering when he was that age and wanted to join in the battle, the anguish of hearing no, still echoing in him.

Grayson and his men were making their way through the glens with as much haste as they could safely. They had already made it well past halfway, before he called a halt to make camp for the night. The men tied their horses to trees and let them graze, while they unpacked their robes and made a light dinner of boiled potatoes and carrots, along with oxen saved from last night's feast. 

The moon glowed on the waters of the River Sheil and illuminated the snow-capped peaks of the Five Sisters of Kintail, to the north of where they were. They spent no time telling stories or looking for merriment around the fire this night. They were all asleep save two, who stood guard, taking their turn as the others slept. By first light, they would be riding hard along the river to Loch Duich and then along the coast to Eilean Donan by mid-morning, arriving long before they thought they would.

Arabella and Braedon dined alone and talked into the night. The fire was stoked and kept alight by servants, who watched to make sure they were well taken care of. Soon the talk of battle turned to one of a more personal reflection, as they shared memories of happier times past. Arabella soon felt the familiar stirrings she had when she was with Braedon, as the talk became more intimate still. Braedon saw the firelight twinkling in her green pools, seeing the inner feelings Arabella held, coming through from them. Since his wife's passing, only Arabella had held any interest for him to share his heart with. He reached out his hand to her, Arabella looking at, as though to know what taking it meant, if she did. Fighting the fears in her heart, she reached out and not only took his hand, but a chance at feeling love once more. In as strong a pull as her heart had felt, Arabella was moved towards him, as he leaned forward to meet her, eyes fixed deep within each other. With only a breath between them, Braedon whispered.

"Bella"

With just as whispered a breath from Arabella,

"Braedon," before they stopped looking into each other's eyes and let their lips meet for the first time. 

Their arms found each other and locked them into a passionate embrace to take their breaths away. The longing in their hearts being answered, the empty void in them filled at last. Without the need for words, Braedon took her offered hand and followed Arabella to her chambers, closing the door behind them. Fingers hastily made their duties swift, stripping laces and fabric away from each other. Standing naked in the firelight, Braedon held Arabella to him for the first time, feeling the softness of her, press into him. His lips found hers waiting, parted slightly with bated breath, in need of his once more.

Slowly they danced in passion, finding the bed and falling in embrace upon it, never wanting to let go of each other. Arabella found herself on top of Braedon, looking down at his piercing blue eyes, amid a sea of ginger red hair like hers. She smiled, mischief coming to her eyes and shifted her hips, feeling the stirring of him beneath her, his pulsing throbs pressing against her growing wetness. Moving, her face came to rest against his thigh, her ginger tresses blending against the backdrop of Braedon's body hair, as she lovingly took him in her hand and felt the joy she long had, in feeling a man's pride. Braedon gasped in awe-struck emotion, as Arabella showed him the pleasures she knew how to evoke from him, with her touch and her kisses.



      **********

Stuart looked about at the faces of his guests, the women with looks of far-away longing and announced another pause for everyone to stretch and talk amongst themselves. A number of the women weren't happy with him leaving it there and wanted him to tell more. He laughed and shook his finger at them, in mock scolding of wanting more of the ribald telling of Highland lust. 

He looked at Argus and asked with his eyes if he would tell him the news yet. Argus smiled and shook his head, keeping him guessing. Stuart laughed softly and offered another drink to him, which Argus accepted gratefully, dipping a shortbread finger into the liquid and eating it, much to Stuart's delight. 



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Blood of the Clans Ch. 08



Grayson and his men were also up before the sun broke over the mountain peaks. Breaking camp and mounting up, they followed River Sheil to the mouth and turned west, to ride along the shore to a narrow crossing of Strath Duich, shallow enough for them to traverse it. They were just making their way along the coast of Loch Duich, when the sound of cannon fire broke the misty morning silence, sending wildlife fleeing from their safe positions. Grayson knew immediately that the battle had started, despite the plans to wait for their arrival. He broke his horse into a full gallop, the others following close behind him in formation. Again a cannon roared and echoed down the loch to them, signalling their need to make all speed for the castle.

Garreth had made his way across land in the night, sliding the birlinn over the rough, sandy ground, until it was in the waters of Loch Long. They had quietly rowed across, north of the castle, as Cameron Stewart had suggested. They went back and forth bringing men over quietly, until a hundred men were across. Peadair MacLeod had taken two birlinns with forty men in each and sailed out and around the castle to avoid detection in the night, mooring south of the castle. With the cover of the thick woods, they had made their way to the castle and had set up positions to attack from. 

Five men found the entrance to the castle through the underground passage Lady Anne told them about and entered, walking through the dank, wet tunnel until they came to the store room entrance and waited. Another contingent of men stayed on the point, waiting for the signal to surprise attack from the loch side and raise ladders when the signal was given. 

Seeing a lack of movement, Garreth gave the order for two men to make it to the wall and raise their ladder, hoping the MacRae's inside weren't alert while on guard. The plan had gone well, until one of the MacRae men heard their movement trying to raise a ladder against the curtain wall close to the bridge. Arrows were let loose at them and the alarm sounded. The men escaped back to the bridge and hid behind it, but their element of surprise was broken and now a siege under fire was upon them. The ladder, so carefully positioned, was tossed back down and afforded no chance of scaling the walls now. Blair MacRae and the others were quickly positioned on the land side of the castle, where the attack came from. They saw the men in the woods and fired the small cannons into the woods in hopes of dispersing them and driving them from their point of attack.

Garreth ordered his men to stay under the cover of the forest, until all the men were in place and ready to attack. One of the MacDonnell clansmen climbed high in an oak tree to peer over the rampart walls to spy on the men in the castle and distinguish their numbers. Watching their movements, he could only see seven men positioning themselves along the walls. Using hand signals, he informed Garreth below, that he could only see the seven and no others. 

The tide was in Garreth's favour and afforded them free crossing over the soggy ground along the bridge and stay under the cover of it. He looked across and saw the birlinns waiting for the signal to come across and then down the loch to where Peadair and his men were readied. Feeling it was time to make the charge, he ordered the flaming arrow sent up as the signal to charge. With the sight of it streaking across the sky, a volley of arrows were released, the sky blackened with their numbers, forcing the MacRae's to seek cover. 

Garreth and his men charged over the slippery surface of the lichen coated ground, his men stumbling and falling, trying to make it to the bridge and safety. The MacRae's rose again and took aim at them, letting their own arrows fly. Several men dropped and lay dead, but most made it to cover. Four men carrying ladders, stood at the front of the 

others, waiting for the signal for covering fire, to race up and raise the ladders against the wall. Garreth signalled to Peadair, who had his men fire another volley of arrows. As they watched them pass overhead, the four men climbed the embankment and raced for the wall. They made it safely, but were struck down by arrows as they started to raise them. Once more he signalled for covering fire and hundreds of arrows streaked at the castle. They collected the dead and wounded and brought them back out of the line of fire, before tending to them and await orders from Garreth.

Grayson heard the echoed shouts of men in the distance and continued riding as hard as he could. Following the coast, he could see the birlinns moored along the shore and recognized them. Knowing there were enough men to attack, he was still discouraged they hadn't waited for their arrival. Nearing the battle zone, two men came from the woods and halted his progress. Grayson reined hard on his horse to stop, the other riders doing the same.

"Laird Grayson, ye've made good time. Laird Garreth was hoping we'd ha'e the castle taken by the time ye arrived. The Stewart's brought all the troops yesterday, and a plan was made tae attack at first light." Robert MacDonald told his cousin.

"Who's being fired upon by cannon?" Grayson asked him, looking ahead to see what was happening.

"The MacRae's opened fire on us, but their shots were just tae scare us. No one was killed or hurt by them, but we've lost a few men tae arras. The charge tae the wall has just begun, but we can'ne raise the ladders yet. Young Cameron Stewart came up wi' a good plan of attack, and so far, it's working." his cousin relayed the events so far.

"Dismount and leave yer horses here. we'll go on foot and join the attack." Grayson shouted back to his men.

In moments, a hundred and fifty riders were dismounted and following Grayson through the thick woods towards the place where Garreth's archers were stationed. They arrived beside them and received a hearty welcome from the men. He found Peadair and walked to him.

"When I give the signal, Peadair, let loose a volley, so we can reach Garreth and his men. When we do, I'll give another signal tae fire and keep firing until the ladders are raised and the men are up. Don'ne stop until I give the order, is that understood?" Grayson commanded, showing the signal he would make with his sword.

"Aye, my Laird. We'll be ready fer the signal." Peadair nodded in a bow, then joined his men and readied a flight.

Grayson could see Garreth was pinned down and no hope of reaching the wall without losing many men in the process. He turned and signalled with his sword to release the volley, breaking cover and charging over the slippery ground to reach Garreth. Garreth saw Grayson coming and smiled at his friend making his way to him. Grayson rushed up and lay on the damp earth beside him, his men taking shelter under the arches of the bridge along with the others.

"Garreth, good tae see ye again. Looks like ye ha'e a wee problem on yer hands." Grayson said jokingly.

"Aye Grayson. Ye made good time getting here. Would ye like tae join me in a morning stroll up tae the castle?" Garreth joked back.

"Och, is this the best ye can do fer me? Just a wee stroll? How about we say hello properly and show the MacRae's some hospitality the MacDonald way?" Grayson replied. keeping up the lighthearted talk.

"What do ye ha'e in mind?" Garreth asked him.

"Wi' the next volley, we rush the walls, I told Peadair that once we charge, tae no stop until the men were climbing the ladders. We make them stay under co'er and no gi'e them a chance tae attack us. How many are there, anyway?" Grayson asked.

"From what we can make out here, there's seven on the walls. If there's more, we don'ne know where they are." Garreth relayed what they knew so far.

"Seven. That's it? We've got o'er three hundred men here. A massive surge and we'll o'er-power them and take them. Are ye ready fer some fun then?" Grayson told him, feeling confident they could take them by sheer force of numbers.

"I'm ready fer some fun, Grayson. Let's see what ye ha'e in mind then." Garreth said in mockery of Grayson's boast.

"All set?" Grayson asked him.

"Aye. Away ye go." Garreth told him.

Grayson turned and waved his sword in circles, giving the signal to start firing on the castle. Immediately the air was filled with arrows, the whistling passing overhead. As soon as they saw the defenders going for cover, he rose and charged to the wall. More volleys were let loose, keeping the MacRae's from returning fire, allowing Grayson and Garreth and all the men to reach the wall. The ladders were raised and two men started to climb rapidly up each one, swords in hand, ready to scale the tops and fight.

At the same time, the five men in the tunnel had heard the cannon fire and took it as their signal to breach the store room and enter the castle. The first man went up and tried moving the door, but it wouldn't move. Another climbed up beside him and the two put their shoulders to the door, heaving with all their strength. The door opened slightly and they peered into the room. With no one seen, they pushed harder and moved the heavy crate off and the door swung open. They climbed out and rushed to the door, opening it slowly. Peering out, they saw no one guarding the room and signalled for the others to come up. Soon, five men stood in the room and waited to make their way into the castle.

Cameron Stewart stood on the shore, watching the battle unfold and wished to no end that he could join in the fray with the men in the three birlinns waiting for his signal to row across the short distance to the castle. Seeing Grayson arrive and approach the castle, all the action was on the far side and no one was guarding his side of the castle, so he took it upon himself to give the order to go.

"Men, row now fer the castle and raise the ladders." he told them and jumped into the birlinn, standing at the prow.

At first the men didn't obey, knowing that the signal hadn't come from Garreth to attack and that Cameron was supposed to remain on-shore in safety. When they didn't row, he turned with rage in his eyes.

"I've gi'en the order tae row. As yer Captain, ye'll follow my command, now row!!" he screamed at them.

The men reluctantly obeyed him and started rowing for the castle. Cameron stood proudly at the prow, holding the black, winged horse head of his father's birlinn. His face took on a look of pride, that he would win the fight for them and have glory heaped on him. They were closing fast on the castle, the men rowing hard and with a few more minutes to go and the shore reached, he smiled in his boldness. In that moment, Fate took it away from him, as a cannon roared in his direction, the shot finding its mark, ripping away the figurehead of the winged horse, obliterating Cameron's head from his shoulders and shattering it against the birlinn he was commanding.

The shot continued through the body of the first MacDonnell and through the second, removing the leg of the third, before smashing through the hull. The men were tossed into the frigid waters, most sinking quickly in their heavy armour. Cameron stood fast for a moment, his hand still clutching the remains of the prow, before toppling in a crumpled 

heap into the water. The other two birlinns raced to the scene as fast as they could for rescue, but only four men clinging to pieces of the boat, were there for them to rescue. The red and gold striped sail and wreckage floated on the surface, all that was left to show where they'd been.

The two birlinns were rowed as fast as they could for the shore, reaching it and slamming into the rocky shore. They climbed out with a ladder, swords at the ready, as they rushed along the high walls, until they came to a spot where the ladder's height would afford them entry. Quickly they raised it, archers at the ready, as the men charged up the ladder, one after the other. No more thoughts of Cameron or the others were held, as their own lives were at risk now.

The attack on the other side was going well, the men making it up the ladders. The arrows stopped firing, as Grayson waved his sword in signal, then they scaled the ramparts and entered the castle. The MacRae's had left their posts upon seeing the first men and were finding cover inside the buildings, readying themselves for the final assault. Garreth and Grayson climbed the ladder and joined the men now running along the walls and securing the area. The five in the store room watched, as four MacRae men made their way to escape out the tunnel. As soon as they burst through the door, they were set upon and surrendered without fight, dropping their swords and kneeling before the five men, the sharp points of Claymores inches from their faces.

Five more MacRae's took to fending off the attackers, but in minutes, they lay bloodied and dead, hacked down by swords and axes. The four captured MacRae's were led outside, hands tied behind their backs, pushed roughly by the five who captured them.

"MacRae's, it'll be my pleasure tae bring ye and the others before the King's court, tae stand trial fer yer crimes and hang." Garreth said standing before them, the look of disgust in his eyes.

"Ye'll ne'er ha'e the chance, MacLeod. My clan will arrive and slaughter the lot of ye's where ye stand." Blair cursed back and spat defiantly in his face.

Grayson quickly took the heel of his Claymore and drove it into Blair MacRae's face hard, shattering his nose and mouth. Blood poured from Blair's nose and mouth, as he raised his head again. 

"Now try and spit, MacRae. Ye and yer clan will ne'er take Donan away from Lady Anne and the MacDonnell's. Our clans are more powerful than ye'll ever be. Yer father will be held in account as well, fer this." Grayson told him, holding the point of his sword to Blair's throat. "If I had my way about it, I'd push this sword down yer throat and be done wi' ye the now."

The men opened the gates and hundreds more poured in, entering the buildings and scouring each room for more of the MacRae's. Soon they returned to say there were none, but had found three women captives. The women were wrapped in robes, their clothes torn from their bodies and hanging in shreds. One of the women, dishevelled and battered, approached Blair and stood before him. It was Heather MacDonnell and she looked at him with pure hatred, before driving her fist into his shattered nose and mouth, dropping him to his knees in pain and going unconscious.

"Ye filth. Ye disgusting, vile filth. Mark my words. If I am wi' child now, I'll bear it, but it will be put tae death, as soon as it breathes. Ye and yer clan should all be put tae death, ne'er leaving one of ye's alive tae continue yer line." The bruised and beaten woman screeched at him.

Grayson watched until Heather was finished her vitriol and saw her start weeping. He came to her quickly and upon her seeing it was him, she came into his arms for the security she needed. He held her tightly and talked in whispered tones to her. Soon she had stopped sobbing madly and looked at Grayson. The look held more than her comfort 

from him and Grayson felt it touch his heart. He was taken aback by the feelings that raced through him and needed to stay focused on what was happening.

"Lady Heather, I'm glad yer safe, yer mother will be relieved beyond words tae know this. She's at Tioram the now, wi' Arabella and as soon as we know it's safe, we'll ha'e a birlinn take ye and yer cousins there. Ye'll be safe there and Arabella will ha'e rooms made fer ye's"

Heather's face broke to a faint smile at hearing her ordeal was over and hugged Grayson tightly once more. He held her close to him, partly for comfort, partly for the joy of holding a woman he favoured very much. Garreth could see the bonds of affection between them and felt good that his best friend had hopefully found his love. Grayson finally let her go and she smiled more at him now, then she turned slowly and went back to her cousins and told them they would be leaving here soon.

The men led the women back inside to find clothes and tend to their injuries. Unknown to the men, they had no idea what horrors the women had faced, while at the hands of the MacRae's. Those horrors would soon surface in the days and weeks to come. Garreth and Grayson looked about the castle and started to disperse the men to stand guard and watch for signs of the approaching MacRae's.

"Signal fer Cameron tae send everyone o'er wi' the birlinns, after breaking camp and bringing everything o'er, Garreth told a soldier.

"My Laird Garreth, I hate tae be the one tae tell ye, but young Cameron Stewart is dead, along wi' sixteen men." one of the men from the birlinns told him sadly with remorse and worry of his reaction.

"What do ye mean dead? He was tae stay on shore till I gave a signal fer him tae send the men o'er." Garreth said in disbelief, his anger coming on strong.

"He saw the battle being waged on the land side and thought he could cross and take the castle from behind. The men did'ne want tae go, but he had yer command and they obeyed." the clansman told him.

Garreth turned to Grayson, who stood with shock at hearing the news, knowing his promise and oath to Braedon he would bring his sons and kin home safe had been broken. Grayson turned and walked away in sorrow, feeling he had let down his friend and ally with his word

"Show me where." Garreth asked his soldiers and followed them to the loch side of the castle and where they pointed to the sail and wreckage in the water. "He was tae stay and send the men only. Where's his brother and kin?" Garreth asked him.

"They remained as they were told, my Laird. There." he said pointing to the men barely seen on shore across the bay.

"Take three men and row across. Ha'e them break camp and bring everything tae the castle. We can'ne think about this now. MacRae and his army will be here soon and we need tae prepare fer a battle. Retrieve the sail fer Laird Braedon and any men ye can find." Garreth told him without strength in his voice. He too knew what this meant to their allegiance with Braedon.

The soldier left with three others and pushed the birlinn into the water and rowed for the wreckage. They pulled hard on the water-soaked sail to get it aboard, cutting the lines from the mast. They rowed about in a circle, looking for signs of bodies floating and found three, none being Cameron Stewart.

Men were busy re-stocking the powder and cannon shot, as well as carrying quivers of arrows to stations set up for archers. The sadness of loss and mourning weren't part of a battle, as the bodies were laid on the ground, along side the others who died in the taking of the wall. Once the preparations for battle were finished, a birlinn would be loaded with them and sailed back to Tioram, to be given the peace and rest their souls deserved. 

The four men cut away the lines of the sail and carefully folded it, before handing it to Garreth. He held the crimson and gold canvas in his hands, feeling the weight of sorrow and guilt in it. Carefully, he laid it on the ground beside the other fallen men, as much as if it was Cameron Stewart himself. He bowed his head and made a silent prayer for Cameron's soul and another for forgiveness from his father, Braedon. 

Grayson returned to Garreth, the stain of tears marking his face. Garreth made no mention of them, knowing the pain he was feeling at the loss. 

"Grayson, ha'e two riders go out and watch fer the MacRae's approach. They'll be coming along the valley trails from the other side of the Kintail Ridge. Wi' luck, we'll ha'e time tae set up our attack and see if we can take them from vantage points." Garreth said in less strength of tone he normally would, the joking banter gone from his words.

Grayson only nodded his agreement and went to his men. Garreth stood looking at his friend, his sadness and worries shared by him, then turned and went up to the men on the walls and made sure everything was prepared for the impending battle, Seeing that things were going well, he came back down and gathered his captains to him. He drew in the sand where they were and where they could set up several attack points from the surrounding woods. The men were dispersed and left for their command points and prepare them. Garreth saw two riders mount their horses and ride off back down the loch to watch for the MacRae army approaching. Grayson walked back, his head bowed in despair, his ability to focus on the battle clouded in remorse and grief.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 08



"Grayson, ye can'ne bring him back or changed what's happened. The time now is tae prepare yerself and yer men fer battle. We'll both deal wi' Braedon upon our return. Cameron disobeyed my orders and that's what got him killed, along wi' sixteen of our men. I'm just as sad at this, as ye are, my friend, but we ha'e tae keep our heads, if we're tae win this." Garreth said to him quietly.

"Aye Garreth, I know. I just feel my word will no mean anything when I return tae Tioram. I failed Braedon, so what's my word worth tae anyone." Grayson replied, voicing his thoughts on the matter.

"Yer word will still hold merit and worth, Grayson. Ye did what ye could. Ye were'ne e'en here tae watch him. Braedon can'ne hold ye tae blame fer this." Garreth said, trying to bolster his friend to let the pain of it go.

Grayson nodded in concurrence, but Garreth felt he would never let it go completely. They walked through the keep and sat in the dining hall. Garreth found a jug of ale and poured two cups for them. Raising his glass, he looked at Grayson, who slowly raised his own.

"Tae Cameron, may he rest wi' the souls of his fore-fathers and be at peace." Garreth toasted to the lost highlander

"Tae Cameron." was all Grayson replied and drank his ale down hard, spilling some from the corners of his mouth.

"Now, back tae the task at hand. Ha'e yer men start making arras and I'll do the same. We'll need every flight we can, tae fend them off and beat them." Garreth said, doing his best to bring him out of his remorse and self-blame.

"Aye Garreth, back tae the task at hand." Grayson replied and put his right hand on Garreth's shoulder.

"Good. now let's win this battle, tae make good tae the men who fell." Garreth said back, as he placed his right hand on Grayson's shoulder.

They walked outside into the bright sunlight, steadily burning away the morning mist. The castle was alive with men, making sure every station was outfitted with supplies and more at the ready. Several men were in the kitchen preparing a meal for the men, the smell of food wafting about the walls, making the men hunger more for some food.

The two riders made it back to the head of Loch Duich and went east, the way they came. They knew an army would come along the way they had taken, so they positioned themselves high on a hill and watched towards Glen Sheil, which was the best route for them to take. Opening his sporran, Gordon MacDonald took out some dried meat to stave off the hunger they felt and drank from the bern, flowing down from the higher mountain peaks, as they waited for the approach. His brother, Glendon was the first to hear them, pointing out to him the direction of the steady pounding of hundreds of feet and hooves echoing up the glen. They both watched in the direction the sound came from, ready to count their numbers and give warning to the others how many there were.

As the first signs of them rounded the foothills of Sgurr Fhuaran, the first munroe of the Five Sisters of Kintail, they saw two riders coming ahead to scout the area and possibly to let the MacRae's in the castle know they were coming. The two scouts rode straight for them and the brothers mounted up and returned to the wooded area at the base. Their hopes were to ambush the men and delay the army, who would stop and wait for word from them. 

As they hid in the bushes beside the trail, arrows at the ready, they heard the approaching hooves and waited for the right moment to attack. Just as the scouts rode up to them, they both jumped out, surprising them and released their arrows. Both arrows dropped the riders backwards from their mounts and left them lying in pain on the ground. Glendon and Gordon dropped their bows and drew their swords, cutting their heads off, guaranteeing their silence. They pulled the bodies into the bushes and with their swords, flicked the heads in after them. They gathered the scout's horses and rode with them back to Donan, with word of the approach.

The MacRae's had been marching for three days and nights, with only short breaks for rest and food. At over four hundred strong, their numbers were impressive, but hard to move rapidly. Only one hundred riders led the men on foot, the trek made more difficult with the terrain they had to traverse. They had made it to the Kintail Ridge, south of Loch Duich, before sending two riders ahead to scout the area and reconnoitre with their clansmen at Castle Donan. They felt assured the castle was taken and no impediments to their making Eilean Donan their seat of power again and take control of the lands and waters surrounding the castle. James MacRae dismounted and dropped his hand into the clear, cold water flowing along their trail.

"Ah, sweet water. Tis a good choice of land tae inhabit, so it is." he said smiling, thinking of what he was going to be in control of soon.

Others took a drink as well and enjoyed the rest. It would still take four more hours of marching before they reached the castle. They figured they would reach there in the late afternoon, make ready their arms and post guards before eating. Once inside the castle, they knew they couldn't be taken by siege, unless it went on for months. With their numbers, they felt invincible to any of the surrounding clans.

The two MacDonald brothers rode hard up the bridge and into the castle. They dismounted quickly and asked for Laird Grayson. Seeing him by the main house, they ran over and told him of the news.

"My Laird," Glendon started, "They're making camp in the valley, south of the loch. They sent two riders tae scout ahead, but they're no going back wi' news. We silenced them and brought their horses. If they continue tae come, they can be here by late day, but I say they won't leave until the morrow breaks at first light."

Grayson looked at them and then for Garreth, shouting out to him. Garreth ran over to him upon seeing the riders return and what news they brought. Grayson had Glendon repeat what they saw and what they had done. 

"How many are there?" Garreth asked.

"At least four hundred or so, but only about one hundred riders." Gordon informed them.

"In the valley of the Kintails?" Garreth asked, feeling his hunch was right.

"Aye, Laird Garreth." Gordon responded.

"Then I know what must be done. Ye two, there's food and drink in the kitchen fer ye's. Eat and rest. Ye've done well." Garreth told them and looked at Grayson. "Looks like we ha'e a get together coming, Grayson. Are ye up fer some company?" he asked him, trying to get their banter back.

"Aye Garreth, I need something tae take my mind off..." Grayson never finished his sentence, trying not to let the thought of Cameron's death keep weighing on him. "Ye men, tae me." he ordered two men crossing the courtyard. "Take a few men and bring they birlinns down the loch, up tae the other side of the castle and make sure they're hidden well wi' the rest. We don'ne want the MacRae's knowing we're here."

"Aye, Laird Grayson." came the reply from both.

Both men started grabbing other men at random and told them of the task. Soon, ten men were racing along the loch's shore to where Peadair MacLeod had moored the boats earlier. In less than ten minutes, the oars were out, four men on each, pulling on them hard, bringing them up. Garreth and Grayson ran up the stairs to the rampart wall and watched, as they sailed by and rounded the point into Loch Long, where the other birlinns were moored. They looked back down the loch and decided on the best plan of attack once the MacRae's were in sight. After they discussed their plan, Garreth went to his men, while the younger Stewart, Coll and his two cousins approached Grayson.

"Laird Grayson, where shall we go once the battle starts?" Coll Stewart asked him.

Once again, Grayson looked into the young eyes of boys and felt a stabbing in his heart.

"Ye'll be going back tae Tioram wi' my cousin, Robert and the fallen. I'll take no more chances at losing any more of ye Stewart's this day or any other. Once there, ye'll ha'e tae explain tae yer father what has happened and why, God save my soul, he understands why Cameron is dead. I will leave it tae ye three tae inform him. Is that understood?" Grayson's eyes flared with mixed emotions, as he told them. The fright on the young men's faces, told him they did.

"We'll obey, Laird Grayson. May I speak, my Laird?" Coll asked sheepishly.

"What is it, Coll?" Grayson snapped back, but softened his look, feeling he might be too strong on them, realizing it was their kin member who had been killed.

"It's a plan I was thinking about, when we were on shore. I overheard the men when they talked about fighting the MacRae's, when they come." Coll said, in hopes he would be heard.

"What is it?" Grayson said with less intensity and more interest.

"It's a way tae lure the MacRae's intae a trap and ha'e them surrounded by yer men on all sides." Coll told him, with more excitement at being taken seriously now.

"Hold that thought there." Grayson asked him and shouted for Garreth to come over.

Garreth made his way at a fast walk towards them and asked what he wanted.

"Young Coll has a plan tae lure the MacRae's intae a trap and thought ye might like tae hear it tae." Grayson told him.

"What's yer plan, young Stewart?" Garreth asked him, hoping Cameron's brother was gifted with the same ability at making plans.

Coll looked at both of them and started in. "There were only fourteen MacRae in the castle when we arrived, is that right?" he looked again at both for confirmation and received nods, then continued. "And from what I've heard from the men earlier, Glenn and his men killed six while they were trying tae make it back here." he said again, looking for confirmation again.

"That's true enough, Coll. What's yer plan?" Grayson asked him, no more stress in his words.

"I was thinking, if the MacRae's don'ne know we've taken the castle and think their clansmen ha'e control, they'll march straight here tae enter the castle." Coll said, hoping they understood his thinking.

Garreth and Grayson showed their full interest, but not fully understanding the concept of the plan.

Coll could see they didn't and continued. "What I was thinking was this. If we ha'e men positioned on the ramparts, standing watch like they would, we can use the MacRae's clothing tae make them look like the MacRae's, making them think it was safe and the castle was theirs. We can position their birlinn on the south side of the castle, so they see it. Once they made it tae a certain point, where ye ha'e them surrounded, ye could attack from all sides and force them towards the water wi' no way tae retreat. They'd ha'e tae stand and fight or surrender." 

Garreth and Grayson looked at him and were astonished after hearing the plan.

"How old are ye, Coll?" Garreth asked him, his amazement clearly showing on his face.

"I'm fourteen years now, fifteen in three months coming." Coll replied, wondering why he wanted to know.

"How did ye learn such great battle tactics? That has the makings of a win if I ever heard one." Garreth said to him in amazement once more.

"Our father has taught us all since we were just sma'. I thought up the part of the men, my cousin Griffin here," Coll said, pulling Griffin forward, "He thought of changing the clothes tae look like them." Coll said, now smiling proudly.

"Now, that's going tae gi' us an advantage like no other. I can'ne thank ye enough young Stewart's fer this. Upon our return, we'll make sure yer gi'en recognition fer this." Garreth told him. 

Garreth shook each of their wrists as men and told them to help out where ever they could, before they had to seek protection when the attle began. He turned to Grayson and smiled widely, feeling they had won the battle before it began.

"I'm impressed wi' the way Braedon has raised his lads. Truly, they'll make fine leaders and win the battles they fight. We must make changes tae our plans right away and send out another rider tae wait until the MacRae's start their march tae the castle. I'll ha'e the men strip the bodies of the dead MacRae's, as well as the other ones." Garreth said excitedly, his smile returning to his face and eyes.

"They're well trained at that, Garreth. If only young Cameron had'ne been so headstrong." Grayson's words threatened to return him to despair, but he shook it away and continued. 

"I'll send a rider out now. Assemble enough men who look like them and have them dress out as them. Send word tae the captains already in position, tae come back and we'll work out the new plan." Grayson replied, now sounding more like himself and in command, but the remorseful event still over-shadowed him and Garreth knew it would hurt their chances if he didn't shake it off completely.

Garreth found one of his captains and gave him the orders, which brought about a strange look in return from him, before he went and carried out the order. Grayson went over to his men, who were tending to the horses and sent a rider out to bring the captains back. The rider mounted his horse and took four more for the captains, to hasten their return. Garreth and Grayson stood a few feet apart and smiled at their good fortune. They laid their hands on each other's shoulders and patted them, feeling more triumphant than ever before. Garreth's hopes for his friend returned, upon seeing the strength his eyes.

James MacRae sat amid his men discussing battle strategies for different situations, when he felt his riders should have returned by then. The sun was getting low to the mountain tops and called for his captain to come to him.

"How long is it tae Donan, Leith?" James asked.

"From here, a good hour or so tae the castle, at a fast pace, my Laird." Leith told him.

"The men ha'e been gone o'er four hoors noo and should'e returned wi' news." James told him in concern.

"Do ye suspect trouble, my Laird?" Leith replied in concern.

"No, I think the bastards are drinking ale and bedding women." James replied sarcastically. "I don'ne think there's trouble, Leith. Blair and Iain are good warriors and the men they ha'e wi' them are equal tae the task. The castle should be ours and they are more likely treating the men tae a feast and fucking. If that's so, I'll ha'e their hides on a pole when I get there. They better leave some food and women fer the rest of us, the men ha'e been wi'out both fer tae long and could use a taste." James roared out in laughter, the men around him joining in, bolstering their minds that the march to Donan ended in women, food and ale.

"That's most likely what's become of them, my Laird" Leith replied smiling, but not as sure as James was. He returned to his place with the men and pondered the thought on his own.

"We'll make camp here t'night men. We'll march fer Donan at first light. " James MacRae shouted out and stretched out his leg, letting loose a long, loud fart. "Aye, that's better." he said smiling and then laughed at his release.

                                 **********

Tavish finished this part of the telling, the guests still rapt with attention, hearing the history of events almost four hundred and twenty years ago. The hour was getting late and many with children were leaving to their rooms or to nearby hotels and guest houses.

"Shall I take a wee break here so everyone can stretch again and get another drink or anything else?" Tavish asked the guests.

A unanimous agreement came from everyone and the room emptied. Tom and Debra stayed and looked at the people and then to each other. Tom saw Debra wasn't too pleased at hearing how her ancestors treated people.

"Remember Babe, this has nothing to do with you, so don't take it personally, okay?" Tom told her, as he kissed her forehead and then smiled.

Debra looked back and smiled weakly, "I know. It just sounds awful what they did." 

Tom gave her a small kiss and hugged her to him, comforting her and letting her know everything was okay. Tavish, Stuart and Argus were all smiles, as they watched the couple, then turned to talk between themselves, recounting their history and readying for the next instalment of the tale. 



Thank you for voting and commenting. Always appreciated. RJ



Blood of the Clans Ch. 09



Stuart could see that many of the guests were getting tired, but still interested in the story. Feeling it should be told to completion, he thought of something to really make it hit home with a flourish.

"How about I finish here and let everyone get a good sleep. In the morning, we'll rise early at six or so and we'll go fer a sail on the yacht. I'll ha'e a breakfast prepared tae eat on board and we can stop in and get a bite later on in one of our stops. How many would like tae come wi' me and Tavish and I'll finish the story then."

Ten guests confirmed right away, while others had to decline. Tom and Debra were more excited that ever, the thought of actually seeing the castles and places Stuart and Tavish were talking about. They were both past any apprehension of Debra taking any offence now, the attachment to her clan's past becoming more detached from her reality. 

"Then as it's ten now, I suggest it's time we all went tae our beds and get a good rest. I bid ye all a good evening and I'll see ye bright and early on the yacht. Good night tae ye all." Stuart said to the guests, some voicing their displeasure at not hearing any more of the tale, while others assured them they'd know about it and then turned to Argus.

"So tell me now Argus, what's yer news." Stuart asked him with pent up curiosity.

"Ye really want tae know, Stuart? I think it can wait a bit longer. Maybe after we come back from the trip tomorrow." Argus teased.

"Are ye coming, then Argus?" Stuart asked him.

"Aye, I think I will. Sounds like a grand time." he returned.

"Then I'll see ye as the morrow breaks, Argus. God, yer a sly one, aren't ye." Stuart quipped at him with a smile.

Stuart waved over Gordon and informed him of his plans to eat on the yacht for and to prepare the foods to be on board. Gordon bowed and went to the kitchen staff to inform them. In under a half hour, the castle was quiet, the lights dimmed and the fires doused, as everyone made their way to their rooms.

One fire remained burning softly, casting a gentle, glowing warmth on the couple standing in front of it. Tom held Debra in his arms, kissing her softly, as they enjoyed their first night together in the castle. Pulling back from the kiss, Debra looked at Tom inquisitively and wanted to know what he had said to her earlier in Gaelic, in Uncle Stuart's office.

"Graim thu go siorai? That? It's nothing really" Tom joked. 

"Tom, tell me." Debra playfully insisted.

"Later, come on, let's see what it's like to fool around in a castle." his playfulness coming out, as he grabbed her ass firmly in his hands and squeezed it.

The prospect of making love to her fiance in a castle, had Debra enjoying the idea more, than what Tom had said earlier. Pulling his shirt over his head, she ran her hands over his chest, feeling his smooth, muscled structure. Tom pulled Debra's blouse over her head, instead of undoing the buttons, landing it on his shirt. Their lips joined and with all their effort, kept them together as they kissed, removing the rest of their clothes, then stood naked in the firelight. Tom looked into Deb's eyes, sparkling with passion, as he held her hot, naked, invitation to him closely, then whispered in her ear.

"It means, I love you eternally."

"Oh Tom, I love you, Baby." she breathed out passionately as she kissed him.

Tom squeezed her ass cheeks and lifted her up so she was level with him. Deb knew what he wanted to do and wrapped her legs around his waist, as he guided the tip of his throbbing shaft between her sodden folds. As he lowered her down, he felt the hot embrace of liquid lust engulf him entirely. Holding on tightly, they made it over the few steps to the bed united in bliss and continued what they started.

With the thickness of the stone walls, no one heard the impassioned moans and cries of ecstasy, as they made love to one another, long into the night.

The morning was dull and cloudy, but no rain. Banks of fog rolled along Loch Dunvegan and into the bay. As scheduled, a sleepy-looking, but smiling Tom and Debra, along with the others, were walking down the sea-wall passage to the yacht. Stuart was aboard and once everyone was accounted for, the motors started and they left the dock, moving 

slowly into the bay. Tom and Debra stood looking at the castle, watching the change in its face, as they moved away from it. The fog played its part in setting the scene, as the castle vanished from view, leaving them wrapped in a cold, chilly blanket of mysterious, grey nothingness.

"I hope no one gets sea-sick, but we do ha'e pills, if ye need them. We'll be gone fer most of the day and coming back in by evening. It'll be aboot two hundred miles, so we'll be going a fair speed. Let me see tae oor breakfast and I'll be back on deck soon. Enjoy the scenery." Stuart said to them all, then disappeared into the galley below deck.

Grey seals swam along side the yacht, cresting out of the water and keeping pace with it. Tom and Debra watched them, fascinated by wild animals interacting with them so freely. They walked along the deck to the bow and watched them, as they sailed into the fog. It was easy for them to imagine being back in the time of Garreth and Grayson, being on a birlinn rowed by strong, highland warriors on their way to battle.

In an instant, they broke through the dense bank of fog and into clearer skies, everything becoming bright and vivid. The yacht cleared the passage out of Loch Dunvegan and sailed north-east, around the steep cliffs, that had held back the raging seas for countless millenia. They sailed past Isay, the white coral beach on shore glittering against the greyness behind it. Rounding the point at Ardmore, they changed their course to the east. 

The scenery was captivating to all, as they stood against the railing and witnessed the creation by nature's hand. The steep, craggy bluffs, rebuking the relentless pounding of the waves that crashed on shore, were eroded into shapes of unimagined beauty. Sea arches dotted the coast, where the waves had made a passage through the rock. Passing Waternish Point, they sailed past the large inlet and watched Duntulm Point appear in the distance. No one realized the ruins that could be seen, were the start of another tale to their history.

Cameras were continually taking pictures by everyone, Tom and Debra included. She had asked Tom before leaving, that she wanted to have a memory of their trip today and of all the history of their clans. While Debra took pictures, Tom took video, hoping to capture the pure majesty of his homeland.

Stuart came from the bridge, after informing the captain of their course and joined Tom and Debra, busily photographing the sights.

"It's truly a sight tae behold, isn't it?" Stuart asked them, seeing their enthusiasm.

"Uncle Stuart, I'm breathless with how beautiful it all is." Debra said, smiling happily.

"I'm happy ye are, Hen. It was my hopes this trip would bring everything in tae a reality ye could appreciate better, than just me going on aboot things." Stuart said jokingly. "Now, I hate tae drag ye all from the splendour," he shouted out to everyone, "but breakfast is ready in the galley, if ye'd all like tae join me."

The guests reluctantly left their positions and filed into the galley, where a table was set, their faces still turning to catch sight of the next point of interest. Everyone took a paper plate and took a sampling of the foods presented. Pots of tea and coffee were set out and soon everyone was heading back out on deck, taking seats in the deck chairs, the fabric being the yellow and black Loud MacLeod tartan.

As they ate, hands continued to keep pointing out things of interest and food was quickly put aside, as cameras were coming back out to capture the scene. Sea eagles soared high overhead, scouring the waters for a meal, as noisy gulls circled around the yacht, hoping for a free meal.

With the breakfast done, the guests went back to picture taking with enthusiasm, everyone pointing out what to look at.

"Coming up soon is Kilt Rock, it's a grand sight for taking photos." Tavish told them, coming on deck at last, sipping a cup of hot tea, a bagel in his other hand. He had decided on having more rest and slept in the berth.

"Tavish, nice of ye tae join us. Seems ye need a wee bit more of a beauty sleep, ye ugly thing ye." Argus quipped with laughter.

"Aye, maybe I do, Argus. But the ladies still fancy me, o'er a horrid sight as yerself." Tavish shot back, smiling broadly and taking Argus' hand in a welcome handshake.

The guests laughed along, enjoying the banter between them. The sun broke through the clouds, the brilliant rays streaking down to the sea around them. In moments, a full rainbow provided a magnificent arch of colour from the mainland, out into the sea. Cameras were quickly pointed at it, capturing the event. 

"There it is the noo. Kilt Rock." Tavish shouted out to everyone, pointing in its direction.

Everyone turned away from the spectacle of colour, looking now at the coast again. The towering cliffs indeed looked like they were wearing kilts of tartan, made from the growths of lichen and moss growing closer to the sea. A large waterfall spilled over the edge, falling in a spray to the rocky shore below. Once again a rainbow appeared and brought a magic to the scene.

"We'll be coming up tae the islands of Rona, Raasay and Scalpay in a minute. Once we pass them, we'll continue wi' the story, as we head intae the Kyle of Lochalsh and ontae Eilean Donan." Stuart said to them smiling, happy that the trip was generating such enthusiasm.

As they sailed through the channel, fishing boats and other pleasure craft passed them, people waving to them and everyone waved back.

"Everyone is so friendly, Uncle Stuart. Everywhere we go, we've been treated to wonderful hospitality. I'm just loving the whole trip here." Debra told him.

"Aye, Debra. It's the way of the Scots. Noo that all the fighting and arguing is o'er, we ha'e nothing but happiness tae spread aboot." Stuart said as, he put his arm around her shoulder.

Tom was inwardly overjoyed that his fiancee was accepted by him, as well as the other clan members. No one made remarks about her clan anymore, and that made her happy, Debra was now willing to listen to and accept what she was told about her clan, no longer taking umbrage at what they had done..

Stuart pointed ahead to Deb, Tom's eyes following the direction and the misty isles were coming into view. More of the others came forward and started taking pictures of the scene, 

"I think we'll need a lot more memory cards, Tom." Debra told him, while clicking off a string of pics on her digital camera.

"I have five more, so I hope that'll do for the trip." Tom told her, as he reached in and took one out of his camera bag. 

Debra turned off the camera and ejected the filled card and popped a new one in very quickly, not wanting to lose a photo opportunity. Her camera was up and clicking away, as they passed through the channel between the three islands. The towering peaks and craggy bluffs provided a breathtaking landscape to the waves rushing in and crashing on the rocky shore.

As they passed by the small, flat island of Pabay, the Skye Bridge and the lighthouse on Eilean Bhan came into focus. The guests were entranced by one scenic view after another, as the yacht cruised under the bridge to delightful waves from the people standing on it. In moments, they entered the Kyle of Lochalsh and stared down the length of Loch Alsh towards Eilean Donan. The mist rising from the water, made a moving curtain that blocked the view, but Tom, Debra and the guests found plenty of things to marvel at and photograph.

Tavish stood at the bow now with Stuart and started to talk of the battle that occurred that day. His loud, deep voice filled the air around them with his thick Brogue.

"As you look doon the loch noo, ye'll see Donan." he said, as they passed the island, the same one his ancestors passed centuries before. "Grayson and Garreth had control and they were carrying oot the idea they were given by Coll Stewart..." 

Everyone's eyes focused on the castle, now clearing from the mist, imposing its stature on them. The yacht pulled close to it and moored, as Tavish told of the battle and the losses they all had.





Please take the time to vote and comment, both are appreciated. Thanks readers.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 10



Colin MacDonnell rode with haste through the countryside towards the attacking MacRae's. It was his duty to watch them and ride back when they started to march for Donan. Having lived, travelled and hunted in the area all his life, he knew the best route to take and where he could safely watch them without being spotted. It was his deepest hopes as he prayed, that he could live through this night and return to his wife and family, alive and well. He'd seen the results of battle with Claymores and battle axes and wished to God, he didn't become one of the fallen. The visions of body parts hacked and cleaved from his body, left him with a fear and dread at being caught.

He rode to the spot where Glendon and Gordon MacDonald had ambushed the two MacRae scouts and upon arriving, the sound of flies buzzing about the corpses, plus a pair of dark stains on the ground, let him know he was at the right hill. He tied his horse as far away from the site of death, not wanting it spooked by the smell, then climbed the high, grassy hill. A large, yellow gorse bush provided adequate cover for his needs, as he looked down into the valley below and saw the troops. They were camped for the night and Colin relaxed, knowing he would live to see another sunrise. Pulling out some dried meat and an apple, Colin settled down for dinner and a night of listening to voices in the dark.

The shrill chirping of birds woke him up, just as the sun shone on the peaks of the Kintail Ridge. The sky was cloudless and bright, allowing him a clear view of the MacRae's, as he watched them assemble. He made another count of how many men were on foot and the number of riders, as well as how they were laden with equipment and arms. When they started marching, he was sliding backwards away from them, then ran to his horse and rode back for Donan in haste.

Within the hour, he was riding along the loch, feeling the cool mist rolling off the surface of the water. He shouted out the password, "Lady Anne," to lookouts he knew were posted in the trees for ambush, to inform them who he was and not get taken down with an arrow. Riding up the bridge to the castle, the heavy oak beam was lifted and the gate opened, as Colin galloped through. He handed his horse to a soldier, as he quickly made his way into the keep. The Lairds, Grayson and Garreth, were sitting with the captains around the smooth, polished table in the dining hall discussing plans, as he approached.

"My Lairds, the time is upon us. MacRae has assembled and is marching. I make their numbers at three hundred on foot, one hundred riders and all loaded down wi' equipment and arms. They should make Donan by the stroke of mid-day at their rate of travel." Colin relayed to them all.

"Well done, Colin, sit and eat and enjoy drink before they arrive. Ye'll need yer strength tae lay yer Claymore intae a few of them." Grayson said to him, welcoming him to sit and join them.

Colin smiled and sat, digging into the food still on the table. A soldier brought a cup of warmed cider and a plate of oatcakes to him and Colin drank and ate heartily.

"Captains, if what Colin says, is how they approach, they'll suspect nothing and will march intae our hands and intae our swords and arras. We can'ne be gi'en more of a chance at a victory than this. Our men are in position in the woods, in three areas of attack, stopping any retreat. If our impostors can make them think everything is okay in the castle, they'll march right in, allowing us tae surround them." Garreth explained, using his finger on the table, to map out the plans once more.

Grayson stood and raised his glass to them. "Clansmen, I stand proud wi' ye in defending the honour of Lady Anne and Eilean Donan."

"Aye," came a resounding reply from everyone.

"Tae Lady Anne, tae Donan and victory." Glenn MacDonnell added and drank his drink down. 

"Then tae battle and our thirst fer blood. May the blood spilled, no be yer own." Garreth saluted and they all finished their wine, slamming the cups on the table, the room echoing with the sound.

Garreth, Grayson and the others left the hall and joined the men who were preparing the last of the ammunition to the posts. Powder and shot were stacked close to the cannons, arrows piled high by each archer position. The men had donned the MacRae's clothing and stood in obvious positions to be seen, while many more would remain undercover of the wall, until it was time.

A rider was sent out after a few hours to locate where the MacRae's had travelled to so far. It wasn't long, before he rode back fast and dismounted, letting the leaders and captains know to listen for marching men soon. The men stayed far back from the path they would take, making sure not to give themselves away. Fear was mixed with anxiousness, as they waited to spring their trap. A lone rider appeared at the bend of the hill, taking a long look at the castle and surrounding area for enemy troops. He spotted their birlinn, still moored along the shore and took it as a sign everything was okay. He turned and rode back, never knowing more than twenty arrows were trained on him at all times. 

In less than half an hour, the sounds of the ground being pounded, rang up the loch, echoing from between the high peaks. It didn't take much longer, until the first horses appeared, ridden slowly to stay close to the troops for protection. The men looked tired already from the four hour march along the glen, carrying arms and equipment. The first group sat quietly and watched the procession pass before them, as did the second. James rode at the lead and looked to the castle, as he came to the bridge. He raised his right hand to the men and hailed them. A MacDonnell in disguise raised his arm in kind and hailed in return. As MacRae scanned the faces, none appeared familiar.

James called a halt immediately and looked around quickly. Leith knew what had set him off as well and called the alarm quietly, to be passed back along the lines. "Look sharp, this could be a trap."

The entire formation was stopped and some readied themselves for attack. James looked to the castle again and called for Blair to come. Two soldiers ran and got him, hands bound, and dragged him up to the wall. With two knives digging into him, one in his stomach, the other ready to remove his manhood, he looked out to his father. James recognized his son and hailed him again. Blair returned the hail with a shout. James heard it and readied his horse to leave, Leith saw it as well.

"It's a trap. Tae arms!" his call went out.

The proper signal of a waving arm wasn't given and James knew there was trouble. He turned and ordered his men to make ready for attack. No sooner did the men start to move and a terrifying mircanth arose from the woods, as the men were given the order to attack. The first volley of arrows dropped men and beast in great numbers, as they remained clustered. The second volley dropped less, but the men were spreading themselves out and using shields now. Once again the arrows flew and men fell in dozens. Before they could prepare for attack, Garreth signalled the charge and two hundred men charged out of the woods, swords and axes swinging. 

With the element of surprise, the attack over-whelmed the MacRae's and the front lines dropped in vast numbers. Arms and legs were severed in a flash by heavy steel, honed razor sharp, slicing through them. Battle axes parted heads from shoulders and cleaved huge gashes into bodies, leaving men barely alive enough, to see themselves die in horrible agony. 

The ground became stained in blood and viscera, as men were slain with brutal force. Both sides took losses in the first wave, then Grayson called for the next charge, lessening the opposition's numbers quickly. Glenn saw some of the troops trying to retreat to safety and look to out-flank his clansmen. He dashed out with his men and stunned them with their savage, guttural screams. 

Men rushed at each other, swords and axes, dirks and spears thrusting and slashing into one another. Blood sprayed and fountained wildly over everyone, coating most in a crimson wash of pulsing, battle paint, as severed arteries spewed the life-force from the men. They soon became unrecognizable from one another, as their features became disguised in a mono-chromatic pattern of blood red. 

Every man became engaged in a conflict of battle, the men in the castle abandoning their posts to get into the fray. The combined clans pushed the MacRae's back to the shores of the loch, leaving them no where to stand. James knew he couldn't oppose anymore, only defend, his chances of winning taken away. Knowing if he continued, he would be annihilated completely, he signalled his flag bearer for a cease fire flag to be raised. Garreth saw the signal flag, and called a cease in battle to his flag bearer and allowed James the chance to declare his intentions. 

Soon all battling stopped, as orders were given. Garreth and Grayson held their swords high in a signal to halt their men. James walked towards Garreth, Grayson crossing to join them.

"MacLeod, MacDonald, I call a cease tae the battle. We've both suffered heavy losses and we need not lose more. If ye agree, I'll take my men and return tae Glencoe. Do ye concur?" James asked breathlessly, blood dripping from his hand and sword.

"I'd rather wipe ye from the land completely, but I'll concur. Yer men'll sheath their weapons and position themselves along the shore. Ye and two Captains will hear our terms. If anyone breaks it, ye'll all die where ye stand. Do ye agree wi' this MacRae?" Garreth asked him fiercely, the rage of battle still flowing through him.

"I agree, MacLeod. I ask that my sons and men be released as prisoners and return wi' me, as well." James added, hoping to save his kith and kin.

"They'll remain as our prisoners and face trial fer their deeds. They murdered innocent people, and burned their bodies. Fer that, they'll face the King, and ye'll be held accountable as well, MacRae." Garreth told him firmly and decisively, leaving no room to barter or bargain for them.

James looked at the castle, knowing his offspring would remain behind. He looked at Garreth and Grayson and waited for terms. His men backed up to the shore when ordered and left him and two Captains standing with Garreth, Grayson, Glenn and several MacDonnell's. Dark, red steel was surrounding them, pointing decisively at their bodies, as Grayson took a few steps closer.

"Ye'll return tae Glencoe and remain there. Ye'll disband yer men and return them tae their lands and homes. Ye'll no raise another force, until granted by decree. Whatever is deemed just by his Highness fer yer actions, ye'll abide by them. Are these terms accepted by ye?" Grayson told him, with as much power as he could, driving the point home that they had won and the MacRae's were vanquished.

"Gi' me time tae confer wi' my captains, MacDonald?" James asked them, looking from one to the other.

"Aye, ye can have till the count of one hundred before ye gi' yer answer." Grayson replied and Glenn started to count.

James huddled with his men and discussed the terms in whispered tones.. Before the count of fifty could be reached, he turned back and replied, "Ye ha'e my word and we'll 

return and do as ye've commanded. 

"Then yer free tae gather yer dead and wounded and make yer return." Garreth told him, backing away in a show of acceptance, lowering his sword to his side.. 

The clansmen gathered en masse, arrows at the ready, swords and axes, all red with blood, ready in their hands to shed more, as they watched the MacRae's follow the directives. Soon, the scene was cleared of MacRae clansmen, as they made their way back again, along the shores of Loch Duich, to the passage leading to the Kintail Ridge. The dead and wounded clansmen of the MacDonald's, MacLeod's and MacDonnell's were gathered and taken to the castle, to await a befitting send off for them.

Once down to Gleann Lichd, the MacRae's stopped and tended to the wounded, deciding what to do with the large number of dead they had to carry. In an effort to lessen their load, the dead were piled together, the bodies covered with dirt, hacked and scraped with swords and axes from the ground. Stones were piled on them in a large cairn, marking their place and giving them a semblance of a decent burial.

The MacRae's stood in silence, paying their final respects to the fallen clan members, then James spoke his final words to them, as he turned back to face Donan.

"My clansmen, mark my words. I'll avenge yer deaths wi' revenge on the MacDonald's and MacLeod's. Our clan will ha'e Donan. This is my oath tae ye."

James mounted his horse and gave the order to march back to Glencoe. The silence that fell among the men as they walked, wore on them like a shroud of shame. By halfway, more than twenty more men died from their wounds and once again, the procession stopped to bury the dead and mark it with another cairn. The deaths filled James with rage at his losses, tempering him to seek retribution in any way he could against his foes.

The scene at Eilean Donan, was just as sombre and filled with sorrow, as the bodies of the fifty seven fallen clansmen and the sail of Braedon Stewart's birlinn were loaded aboard the MacRae's re-claimed birlinn. Robert MacDonald gave the order to row and set sail, as he looked back at Grayson and Garreth, along with the hundreds men standing on shore. He gave a weak wave in salute to them, a similar one in return came from the men.

Grayson drew his sword and held it high, Garreth and the others quickly following suit. They held, as the boat sailed into the gleam of the morning sun on the water, then they sheathed their swords. Grayson turned and walked away from the others, his thoughts weighing heavy on him. Garreth knew what was on his mind and walked with him.

"Garreth, I'm worried about Braedon and what he'll say when they return tae Tioram. I feel he'll end his allegiance wi' us and we'll be wi'out his aid."

Garreth knew that was what was on his mind. He had no words ready to assuage his fears, as he himself was feeling the same. The loss of the Stewart's could make things difficult for them in the battle to come. Their numbers were far less than what the MacRae's had, even with their losses.

"I'll ha'e tae put my faith and hopes in Arabella, that she can convince him tae stay wi' us. If she can'ne do it, then yes, my fears are yer's, we'll lose them. We'll know by the morrow, when Robert returns, if they're wi' us or not."

"Aye Garreth, Arabella has a way wi' him, I seen it before I left. I just hope it's enough tae persuade him. I just pray tae God, it is."

The two walked along the bridge and down along the shore of the loch, pondering the course of action to take, should they be left without the Stewart's support.

A few hours later, the signal was given that a sail was spotted entering the mouth of Loch Moidart. No one recognized the boat at first and dozens of men armed and prepared for attack, before a few men re-called it as the one taken from the MacRae's. They stood down in alert and watched the boat make its way through the sandbanks, exposed during the shallow waters of low tide. After it beached, Robert was first to jump down and walk towards the men.

"Is Laird Braedon still here?" he asked the men present.

"Aye, he's wi' Lady Arabella in the hall." the soldier relayed to him.

"I'll need ye tae bring a cart down, tae bring the dead up tae the castle. I'll leave ye in charge, I ha'e tae see Laird Braedon and Lady Arabella at once."

Robert watched the men go for a cart and had the sail passed to him. He stood looking at it and then the castle, knowing his news would not be well met and feared what Braedon Stewart would do when he heard. Coll, Griffin and Loman Stewart disembarked and stood with Robert, knowing how distraught their father would be at losing his eldest son.

"I should be the one tae bear the news tae my father, Robert. I feel he'll listen tae his son and take the news better, than if ye tell him." Coll told him, the look of faint relief coming over Robert's face. Robert passed the sail to Coll and they slowly made their way to the castle.

The men were bringing a cart to the boat, as they entered the castle grounds and went into the keep. Arabella and Braedon were sitting by the fire talking, as the four made their way in to see them.

"Ah, my boys are back. Where's Cameron?" Braedon asked smiling.

The smile faded slowly on Braedon's face, as he saw them come closer and saw the look on Coll's face.

"Father, Cameron's dead. He was killed in the battle by the MacRae's." Coll wasn't able to say it eye to eye to him, his own sadness bringing him close to tears, at the telling.

Before any explanation could be given, Braedon's rage exploded from him. He turned to Arabella in a start and looked at her for a second, before he fumed at her.

"What kind of oath did yer brother, Grayson swear tae me, Arabella? What kind of man swears an oath tae protect a man's kin and allows one tae die? Is this what kind of allegiance I'm tae hold tae? I gi' ye aid and ye can'ne abide by my request?"

Arabella choked back her tears, and sat in shock at hearing Braedon attack her brother and her clan. She was just about to retaliate in her defence, when Coll broke in again.

"Father, it was'ne Laird Grayson's fault. He had'ne e'en arrived by then. Laird Garreth had gi'en us the order tae stay on the far shore, until we were told it was safe tae come o'er. Cameron disobeyed him and made a charge tae the castle in our birlinn. He was killed trying tae cross."

Coll's words stunned Braedon at first, trying to put the event in perspective. He looked at him and then to the others, looking for assurance he was being told the truth. Even without words, the faces and eyes told him it was so and he had to face the fact. He turned again to Arabella, her face no longer set for defence, but one of compassionate understanding, that the loss was hard on him.

"Arabella, I've lost my son." Braedon's sorrow quickly replacing his rage. "My God, how many of my family must ye take?" as he turned his face skyward, before looking back into Arabella's eyes. "My dear Bella, please fergive me, fer me thinking of Grayson and yer clan, like that." By the time he finished his words, his eyes had overflowed with tears and spilled down his cheeks.

Arabella could see the torture in his eyes and face and reached out and held her hand to his cheek softly.

"Oh Braedon, this is a terrible loss, my love. I'm torn inside fer ye, I am." her own tears quickly leaving trails down her own cheeks.

Braedon held his hand to hers for a moment and then turned back to his son.

"Where is he? I want tae see him one last time before we send him off." he choked the 

words through his sobs.

Coll's tears flowed hard at seeing his father's grief and he began to sob heavily. The only thing he could think of doing, was hand his father the folded sail cloth.

"What's this Coll?" Braedon asked sobbing, wondering what it meant.

"It's all that's left, father. Cameron lies at the bottom of Loch Alsh, along wi' sixteen men."

Braedon tried to digest the words his son spoke to him, the reality of the loss now becoming clearer.

"He's no among the dead? No body tae send off at all?" his questions becoming his answers, as the four stood and shook their heads to him.

The over-whelming grief took hold of Braedon and he sank to his knees in tears, no longer caring about how he looked to them. Arabella held him and cradled his head to her body, comforting him as best she could. With her eyes, she bid the others to leave and allow him to grieve with her.

"Braedon, we'll pay homage tae yer son, just as if he came home tae ye. Yer loss is hard, he was'ne tae see battle, I know. I'll find out what happened, my love, and we can make arrangements tae gi' him a warrior's funeral. He'll be gi'en the highest honours we can bestow upon him."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 10



Arabella's words did little to stem the flow of grief pouring from Braedon and she knew just to hold him, until he was able to gain his wits about him again. The sounds of his wailing echoed through the keep and all who heard, felt the anguish he was feeling. The bodies had been carefully loaded on the cart and after several trips, they were all lain in the courtyard, covered with sheepskins. Robert and the three Stewart's stood with the others silently, paying their respects to the fallen. 

One by one, the bodies were taken and washed, then re-dressed for burial. A site was at Cul Doirlinn on the mainland across from Tioram, one that had served to bury the dead for the past two hundred years. Men were put to the task of digging a large grave to bury all the men at once, the need for haste, only allowing it to be shallow in depth.

With great care and respect, the bodies were laid on carts and a procession of 

MacDonald's, along with Lady Anne and Heather, led their fallen to their place of rest. 

Gregor MacIntosh stood on a hill overlooking the site, as he played his pipes in a slow dirge. The soldiers and servants, villagers and farmers, along with the clansmen, circled the mass grave and watched, as body after body was carefully lain side by side. The sounds of sobbing and weeping cast the only sounds, as the hole became jammed with men. When the last man was lain, Arabella stood at the head and gave them the blessings and praise they deserved.

"Rest, ye brave souls, hard ha'e ye fought and paid the price, fer those who stand before ye. May God's rewards be great in abundance, may yer souls be at peace. Those of us left standing, and those who come after, will ne'er ferget ye, not now, not e'er. Yer sacrifice is no in vain, the honour ye deserve is yer's. Rest now my soldier Laddies, and let God's light guide ye tae him."

Arabella finished speaking and bowed her head. her right hand came over her heart and the homage was followed by everyone else. Gregor started playing again, standing on the hill above them, the sound of his pipes echoing far down the glen of River Sheil. As one, the procession returned to Tioram, while four men began to shovel the dirt back over the bodies. Gregor played, until the last shovel of dirt was placed, the men stopping and saying a silent prayer to them as well.

On the beach, the men had replaced the sail of the MacRae birlinn, with the red and gold 

sail of the Stewart's. A small pyre was erected on it and awaited the procession to come to it. Braedon and his kin were already there waiting, looking at the last remnant of Cameron that they had. Braedon still wept and held his son and nephews to him, as they said their farewells privately.

As the procession gathered around them, Arabella stood to the side of Coll, trying to be as close to Braedon as she could. The others closed in around them, as men brought lit torches down to the shore. Arabella turned to look at Braedon, her movement catching Braedon's attention and he turned to her. The look on his face, told her the amount of his spirit that had been taken from him. Gone was the piercing blue, replaced with a pale wash of greyness to them. His face was set to break at the least amount of emotion and Arabella's heart sank heavily for him.

In a show of compassion that was never seen by her before, she stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes and then embraced him. Braedon's arms found their way around her and his tears once again flowed, as he shared his grief with her, His boys were crying as well, remembering now, that never again would Cameron be the leader of their small band. Arabella pulled back slightly and looked again to Braedon's face. She knew the ceremony had to proceed, but knew in her heart that Braedon wouldn't be able to speak through his sobs.

"Shall I pay him tribute fer ye, Braedon?"

Braedon looked into the green eyes of his saving grace and nodded, unable to find his words. Arabella hugged him close once more and stepped away. She turned and looked at the throng of people before her, gathering her strength and thinking of the words to properly say goodbye to Cameron and bestow the honour on him he deserved.

"We say goodbye now, tae a brave, young soul. One who gi' himself up fer the greater good of his clan and perished from us in that cause. It is our greatest loss, tae lose such a man, as Cameron Stewart. It was his great skills that gi' us back Donan and the Seat of Power fer his friends and allies, the MacDonnell's. Fer all that his life was short lived, he showed the mark of a great man and a fine leader of them. He'll be sadly missed by all, as it should be, his life touching the hearts and souls of those who knew him. God has asked fer him tae join his clan in heaven, his need there, being greater than wi' us. Farewell young Cameron, may God call ye tae serve as his right hand." 

As Arabella finished, Gregor, standing at the castle wall, began to play his pipes once more, the echoing refrain carried far over the waters of the loch. Arabella signalled for the torch-bearers to come forward and gave them to the Stewart's. Braedon held his in his hand and stared at the flames blankly. Arabella could see he was reluctant to touch the flame to the wood and commit himself to the final act of farewell. She stood beside him and placed her hand around his waist, and her other on his hand. In the gentlest of persuasions, she helped guide the flames toward the oil-soaked kindling. 

As the flames touched the wood, they caught and a small fire burst forth. The three younger members then touched their flames to the wood and it was soon spreading rapidly about the pyre.

"Let it him go, Braedon. Let him be at peace wi' God now. Yer a fine man and ha'e been a good father tae him. He goes now, tae be wi' the great Father tae us all and find his place at his side."

Braedon allowed the torch to fall from his hand, then Arabella took it in hers and held it, before placing a kiss on it. Braedon turned and looked at her, the feeling of distance growing between their eyes. It saddened Arabella to see it, but understood where his heart was heading. The four soldiers who had brought the torches, now pushed the flaming birlinn out into the loch, the gentle breeze carrying it along, taking it out towards 

the open sea. Soon, the sail caught and the flames ravaged the material in a brilliant display of colour. They watched, as it made its way to the mouth of the loch, before it started to sink into the deeper waters and disappear.

"My blessings tae ye, Arabella. That was a fine farewell, ye gi'e my son. I'll be leaving now, tae return tae Stalker and be wi' my family and clan." his words mixed with emotions.

"Braedon, please stay wi' me. Don'ne leave me. Let me see tae yer needs here."

Arabella's request found a spot still left in his heart for her. He held her tightly to him for a long moment, before releasing her, looking deep into her soul, then walked away in silence. His boys followed solemnly behind him, as they made their way to their birlinns. Arabella's tears flowed hard, not knowing if he would ever return to her and share in the love they had just found together.

As the boats sailed past the people on shore, Swords were raised in their honour and the Stewart oaths, "Courage grows at the wound and Cormorant's Rock," were shouted out as they passed. Braedon weakly held his hand up as he passed, then turned away from them. Arabella's heart sank in despair, feeling the love she was so afraid to feel again, was once again being torn away from her as she feared. Seeing her despair, Anne came to her and took her to her, knowing the loss her heart was feeling, was much like her own. Anne and Heather helped Arabella back to the castle and up to her chambers, where Arabella bade them to leave her, her need to be alone, with her thoughts and heart. 

The splendour of the region was lost on the MacRae's, who walked on in beaten lethargy, as they headed home. Approaching Inverlochy Castle the next day, James was leading less than two hundred and fifty men, from his original four hundred. As men succumbed to their injuries and died, they were wrapped together in robes, hung over branches and dragged behind two horses. The respect in death no longer observed, the men lost sense in themselves and tradition, further inflicting a palling misery on them.

James knew his men were becoming disheartened with him, their response to command becoming less effectual. Riding by the road to the castle, James gave the command to halt.

"Leith, Silas, tae me. Thomas, lead the men back tae Ballachulish and see tae their needs. I'm going tae the Earl and make plans tae avenge this. I'll return before week's end."

Waiting for Thomas to lead the men away, James turned to Leith and Cameron. "Those bastard clans will pay fer this. The MacRae's will ha'e a seat of power, God as my witness. That poofy, wee man'll make sure of it." James told them, as the ragged line of men marched pathetically on, towards their village.

The three rode to the fortress and waited at the gate, as the bewildered guards looked down at the men, still soaked with blood on their clothes and faces, their hair matted with it, awed by the gory sight of them.

"James MacRae and his captains, tae see the Earl of Huntly. Ye can tell him it's an urgent matter." MacRae told them, his rage held in check.

One guard remained, as the other hurried off to have a castle guard inform the Earl. The heavy gate swung open, pulled by two men, as James and his men rode through and up to the main house, then handing their horses to the livery staff. Seeing his reflection in the water of the trough, James dunked his head under and washed as much blood out as he could, while he swished the water in his mouth, removing the taste of battle. He scrubbed his bearded face with his large hands and wiped it off with them several times. Looking at his clothing, it was almost unrecognizable as a tartan, it was soaked with so much blood. He looked at his men, who were equally as bloodied and bade them to clean themselves as well. Still dripping, they walked to the house and were ushered in by the Earl's guard.

The Earl of Huntly sat at his desk, looking out the window at his dogs playing roughly with each other, finding it amusing, while paying no attention to the raven haired woman sewing in the corner. A knock at the door, had him bid entry, then having it opened to a bloodied James MacRae entering in, followed by his men. The Earl was stunned to speak, as he turned, seeing the sight of them. He watched them walk towards him, bloodied and dripping and forced himself to speak.

"James, what on earth happened?" The Earl asked him in disbelief.

"I was out done by they MacDonald's, MacLeod's, as well as they bastard MacDonnell's. I've lost o'er a hundred fifty men so far and my sons and two nephews are being held prisoner by them. They agreed tae a cease in battle, but they'll be petitioning the King fer their trial and likely a hanging. I can'ne allow that tae happen, Douglas." MacRae informed him, using his given name, instead of his title.

"James, I will do what I can to prevent your sons from hanging, but the King will still have a final say, no matter what. My worries for you, are a loss of your lands and holdings. It was our agreement to work together and take over lands held by clans not loyal to the King. But for God's sake man, what went wrong?" The Earl pleaded for an answer, looking at them all with a flagrant look of disgust at their sight.

They had sat for days on end, planning and discussing the right time and method to take Donan away from the MacDonnell's, discussing how to turn it into Crown controlled land, with the Earl broadening his domain of command and James MacRae increasing his strength and power. 

What James MacRae wanted most was his castle. The Seat of Power for his clan. Long had the MacRae's dwelt in the highlands of western Scotland, indebted to one Laird or another to live on his land and it all came down to money. Money he, nor his forefathers ever had. With strength in numbers and a plan, he sided with the Earl and the Crown, in hopes of getting Donan back and be a clan with a Seat. One with a sizable castle and lands, as well as water control and a solvency in gold. 

Eilean Donan had been built close to thirteen hundred years earlier. Built to fend off the attacking Norse Vikings. Over the centuries, the castle was added to by different clans that resided there. In its present state, it was formidable and well protected. Situated at the juncture of two lochs and a commanding view of a third, it held sway over any sea traffic that travelled them. The surrounding lands were fertile and the lochs teeming with different fish and kelp. The present residents had only taken possession just over two hundred years ago, after a lengthy battle with the MacRae's over it. It was with the help of the MacLeod's and MacDonald's once again, that turned it in favour of the MacDonnell's. The MacDonald's.

"It was they bastard MacDonald's that stopped us. Somehow they knew about my two and their men going ahead and taking the castle as we planned. Once we rode up, it was the wrong signal from one of theirs that had me guarded, then Blair confirmed it with the signal for a trap. Before we could retreat and get our men t'gether, they were swarming o'er us from all sides. We fought them off as much as we could, before we ended up in the loch and drowned. I want that castle, Douglas. They can get fucked in the arse wi' their conditions of truce. I want my sons back as well." James spewed it out with vitriol, his face glaring with the rage inside him, his actions becoming aggressive.

The Earl cleared his throat and motioned to the corner behind James. "I do understand the situation we're in James, but please hold your tongue, while Lady Therese is present. She may not speak perfect English, but I'm sure she understands the filth your spouting." He mildly chastised him, making him feel less in stature than he was at present.

Lady Therese deMornay had sat in shocked silence. The brute of a man standing before her, along with his two men, had given her rise to fear this new land she was in. Coming 

from France, the cultural shock of being in such a savage land terrified her. These people here were primal, barely a sense of civility, compared to how she had grown up on her parent's estate in the pastoral countryside, outside of Paris. Being a Lady now, her upbringing was filled with manners and courtesies, a politeness far removed from where she was now. 

"My apologies, M'Lady." was all James offered blandly, his face still set in readied rage and returned his attention to the Earl. "I want revenge fer this and I want it noo." James replied with force again, his booming voice filling the room, making sure the Earl understood his position.

Douglas Gordon, a diminutive man of five foot four inches, who always looked and dressed somewhat effeminate, was favoured by King James VI and as such, achieved his status and title by royal decree. Rumours were abound that Douglas and the King had shared a more intimate friendship in bed together and was rewarded with his title for services rendered to King and country. To improve his presence of refinement and upbringing, he practised speaking so his natural accent was almost gone.

In contrast, James MacRae was a large, burly man over six feet six inches and weighed at least 18 stone, his strength more than what the Earl wished to imagine. Rumours of his actions were clearer in detail than Douglas' past. It was common knowledge that James had murdered his wife in front of everyone, after catching her with another man. For her punishment, she was strung up spread-eagled naked and James first cut off her breasts and then shoved his sword inside her vagina to the hilt, before drawing it out and slicing her open from the chest down. The man faired no better and was tied down, while MacRae sliced the man's manhood off and crammed it down his throat, as he screamed in pain. He let the man suffer in agony, before he had his men chop him into pieces with swords and axes. 

His blood soaked attire and past notwithstanding, James MacRae was in no uncertain terms, a very imposing man. Keeping his reserve in defence of his position, Douglas looked at Therese and bade her to leave the room. After waiting until she had left and the door closed behind her, he turned to James with as much manliness as he possessed and asked him to sit and lower his voice. After a brief pause for an effectual sense of command, he continued,

"I won't have you charging in here and making demands. I am the Earl of Huntly and you will remember my title and address me as such." 

James stared at the puny, little man with contempt for his position, but relented to his needs for his castle and revenge on the MacDonald's. He sat without any grace and leaned forward aggressively to physically portray his demands.

Douglas sat and stayed stoic, looking at James and making his own demand of the situation.

"James MacRae, we made an agreement to take lands for King and country with you. I assure you, I will help you attain Donan Castle, the King feels it is a strategic stronghold, as we have already discussed. I have heard your pleas," diminishing the last word effectively," and I have already said I will do what I can to help your offspring. Exactly why should I also give into your demands for revenge?"

"Because if ye don't help me get revenge, ye'll be battling wi' more clans than ye ha'e men tae face them. They ha'e three clans massed together now. They'll ha'e all the routes tae Donan guarded. Even the sea routes will be watched. Exactly how do ye plan tae take Donan, Gordon?" James MacRae retorted with disdain, detesting the Earl trying to put him in his place by using his last name in a show of distancing their alliance verbally.

Douglas took stock of the situation presented quickly. He looked away thoughtfully, understanding what James was saying. Despite him calling it revenge, it was another obstacle he had to face. The other clans involved did present a problem in securing Donan. Since taking control, his one main concern was the MacDonald's. They were a large and powerful clan that controlled many vital areas along the coast and inland lochs. Their septs were many and they had power. They were also not loyal to the King, making matters grave for him. Turning back to James, he pondered what his solution to the situation was.

"What do you want to do then, James? With the strength of the clans you say are involved, you don't have enough men to raise a force strong enough to oppose them."

James almost started to say something and stopped. It was upon him to actually think of how to get the revenge he desired, rather than just demand it. He looked at Douglas with growing frustration in his inability to think of something, so Douglas ended James' 

dilemma with his thoughts.

"I can think of one thing we must do right away, and that is to assemble more men. There are other clans who need more land and are willing to serve the King. We must contact them and set a meeting. We should be able to raise the needed men to over-power the MacDonald's and soon after, the MacLeod's. The MacDonnell's are already all but done. I can arrange for three hundred men to be used for land and sea, as well as one hundred battle-ready soldiers on horseback." The Earl said matter of factly, as though it was pre-arranged, should this occur.

"I'll ha'e riders oot tae the clans along the western lochs, I know the MacDonald's don't control. I know of one large clan that desires more land. The MacDougall's. Andrew MacDougall has been losing his lands aroond Dunollie and it won't be long before he's driven out of it completely. He'll be a good ally tae ha'e wi' us, his men are battle-ready now." James said far more calmly, seeing a plan formulate. He was adding the numbers in his head and knew his force would be sizable, if it came to pass. The revenge he sought, could be sweeter in victory, than he thought. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 10



"I will send word to my brother, Thomas Marlborough, at Carlisle and ask for some assistance from him. I'm sure I can persuade him to aid us with a gunship and some men to sail it. Things have settled down there and he's not in need of protection, as he once was. I'm sure he can part with some soldiers and arms for our cause. With an offer of lands and a castle for him, he'll comply with my request." Douglas relayed with a sense of surety that bolstered both his and James' outlook of the situation. For all his effeminate gestures, James knew Douglas was a shrewd and calculating man. One not to be trifled with, despite his ability to crush him with one hand. James did look puzzled at the different last names and before he could ask, Douglas answered his question.

"I know, different last names. Let's just say my father enjoyed his time there with a certain Duchess and Thomas was the result. He has no title there or here, but he's well cared for. Despite his lack of lineage, that hasn't stopped him from getting ahead. He is line to become a Duke now after the battle with the Spanish Armada last year, if all goes well."

James shook his head and laughed, making Douglas follow suit, as they came to terms with each other and the plan on the table.

Therese deMornay sat in her chambers, trying to continue with her stitching, her hands shaking terribly from fright. She tossed the piece she was working on, onto the floor and balled her hands into fists, her eyes welling with tears. Hearing the name MacDonald, gave rise to her worries it was her friend Arabella and her clan, who were in this trouble. Her suspicions still held there was a connection between the two clans mentioned and her dearest friend. She had to find out, for her own piece of mind, she needed to know. 

It reminded her again of her own perils. How such a wonderful life, the one she had been living, could have been changed so dramatically. Her life at Trecesson could no longer be one of peace and comfort, since a man claiming to be her uncle, Jacques de Trecesson, had secretly issued a warrant for her death, in hopes of seizing his cousin's Chateau and estate. Before leaving France for her safety and the arrangement of her marriage to Douglas Gordon, she had informed the King of her suspicions that her uncle had poisoned her father and mother and an investigation by the Sheriff was underway. It was at the sherriff's behest that she find safety outside of France until the matter was dealt with, after hearing word of the plot to kill her.

Weeping in sorrow, Therese harkened back to those events that led her to be here. Here with a man she was to marry, but one she detested and dreaded being with. A man she held little respect for and wondered why her marriage to him would be beneficial, as her parents had told her it would be. 

Please vote and comment, both are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 11



Therese de Mornay, was the adopted child of Giles and Yvette de Trecesson. Her step-father was the heir to a large estate called, Chateau de Trecesson and the lands surrounding it. Her step-mother, who was in actual fact her aunt, came from the St. Hilaire family, who were prosperous as well, and had inherited a thriving business of producing fine vinegars and oils. Between them, they had amassed a large fortune in gold and silver, as well as increasing their lands and businesses together

Never knowing her mother, having died giving birth to her, left Therese bittersweet, the bond between them never being made. Although her aunt loved her very much and Therese knew in her heart that she did, it wasn't the same to her. Her real father had raised her as best he could and provided for her well, but it was his misfortune to die at the hands of a highwayman, while travelling back from Paris. In only six years, her family was gone and nothing of that part of her life remained. Her aunt had come for her and brought her to Trecesson, filing the papers with the courts to adopt her. Not being able to have children of her own, Yvette adored her niece, as much as if she had born her herself. 

Therese was never left wanting for anything and grew up in a life of luxury, far removed from the life of the average French girl. All her young years found her enjoying days of play and stress-free moments amid opulent splendour. The still waters of the moat surrounding the Chateau, offered countless hours of interest, watching the brilliantly coloured dragonflies dart and swoop and the animal life that lived in and around the water's edge, became her playmates. Countless hours were spent on horseback, riding with her step-mother around the countryside, meeting the labourers and seeing how their wealth was made.

One thing Therese missed the most growing up, were friends. With other girls her age having to work and do chores, she was alone most of the time, making up her own games and playing them with imaginary friends. Many of the servants took to her lovingly and made her life as happy as they could make it, playing with her when they could, but she longed for a real friend to share a friendship with, one that lasted their lifetimes. 

When Therese turned fourteen, it was her parents desire for her to attend the convent at the Cathederale de St. Pierre, in Rennes, to acquire the training to become a proper Lady of the Court. She dreaded the thought of leaving all that was her life at that point and go off to place that offered little of what she knew and a great deal of what she didn't.

It was her good fortune that the room she was required to share, was with Arabella MacDonald. She was awe-struck immediately by her mass of ginger hair, flowing down her back to her waist and for all that Arabella was small in stature, her body was that of a mature woman already. Her boisterous attitude threw Therese off at first, never meeting anyone so full of life. It wasn't long though, before they were talking together and sharing their lives before they had met, enjoying the differences in how they grew up and also the similarities. Arabella fit the mold of best friend in Therese's heart easily.

Even today, just thinking of Arabella, brought back memories of her doing things that left her laughing and others that left her wondering. One moment of wonder came, when they were bathing and Therese caught Arabella washing herself rather vigorously. The look of concentrated pleasure on Arabella's face, had her wondering what was happening to her. In minutes, Arabella was crying out in soft moans, ones that led Therese to believe it was something very pleasurable taking place. As Arabella seemed to reach an apex in the pleasure of it, Sister Denise came in after hearing her and immediately ordered her to stop what she was doing. 

A hasty moment to dry and get dressed, found Arabella being forcefully taken to the Mother Superior for admonishment and most likely, punishment. Therese had waited nervously in their room for her return, pacing relentlessly, worried about what they would do to her. The hours passed in a silence that weighed on her, wishing for Arabella's return. When the door opened and she walked in, Arabella's face was set in a stony look of defiance, Therese knew she hadn't given in to the Sisters. Upon a closer look, into her bright, green eyes, the sparkle of tears were rimming the edges, threatening to lose their hold. Arabella stood and told Therese of what happened after she was taken and chastised, then raised her dress to show her the punishment. The scarlet welts of the cane were growing darker and angrier along her buttocks and the tops of her thighs, some strokes threatening to bleed, they were so severe. They had wanted the pain to be as close to the source of punishment as they could, to make their point well understood and remembered.

In a moment that would bond the two more as sisters, than friends, Arabella stripped herself bare, at her friend's request and laid on the bed. Therese went and retrieved a small, blue glass jar, sealed with a leather patch and string. She opened it and scooped a liberal amount of the salve out and gently applied it to Arabella's crimson streaks. With as tender a touch as she could use, Therese smoothed the creamy salve over her rounded cheeks and thighs, Arabella wincing, at even the lightness of her fingers. The same ginger curls peeked out from between Arabella's legs, a thin line of bright pink delineating her womanhood. At the instance of realizing what she was touching, Therese cared for her friend and paid no mind to the bared femininity of Arabella's cause for her unknown pleasure, yet still imagining what she had touched. For all the pain Arabella was feeling, Therese's hands were countering it with calming ease to her. 

It wasn't long before Arabella was tiring from the pain and relaxing to the comfort Therese was instilling in her. Therese wiped her hands and lay on the bed beside her nude friend. Arabella felt her and laid an arm over her waist, then turned her head and kissed Therese softly on her cheek, whispering her deep felt gratitude and affection for her. Therese kissed Arabella's forehead and comforted her head to her young breast, stroking her hair and enjoying the kindred bond they were making. They lay together for hours, wrapped in their newly sewn threads of friendship, both enjoying the feel of each other's presence, both knowing their hearts would hold each other inseparable. Therese pulled a light shawl over Arabella and let her fall asleep in her arms, at once feeling the joy of true friendship.

During one of the rare breaks away from their studies, Therese brought Arabella back to her Chateau outside of Campeneac, to meet her parents and enjoy life in the French countryside. She was amused, looking at Arabella, who stared out at the pastoral countryside, amazed to see so much flat land alive with newly planted crops, especially after coming from a land that was very mountainous and hard to till. It made Therese want to visit her land and see what mountains were like, after Arabella gave her a passionate description of the mountains in her memory. Looking at Therese's face taking on a look of awe and wonder at the majesty her words had created, had Arabella hoping she would come and visit with her, so she could take her and show her. Therese could barely imagine what the vista from one of those high peaks would be like to behold.

The winding road through the patchwork quilt of farms, ducked under the canopy of a cool forested area, before coming out few moments later, to the glimpsed splendour of a French chateau between the mature oak trees. Turning onto the narrow bridge, barely wider than the covered carriage they were in, made Arabella nervous, peering over the edge of the carriage, at the murky water below. As they crossed over the wide moat surrounding the Chateau, the trepidations vanished from her face instantly, as Arabella took in the grandeur of Trecesson. 

The reddish-brown of the Shist stone, was brightened by the late morning sun, casting a rich hue to it. The twin towers soared up the sides of the gatehouse, topped with minarets, peaked with bright, blue pendants atop, fluttering in the breeze. The heavy, wrought iron wrapped, oaken gate doors were open, as the carriage passed under the machicolations of the gallery above, seeing the eyes of men peering down, then through the long, arched entrance. The driver stopped and helped Therese and Arabella from the carriage, then took down their small trunks from the rear.

Servants rushed to collect the luggage and take it to their rooms, while the driver unhooked the carriage and led the horse into the stable, while two stable boys pushed the carriage under an overhanging shelter. Arabella and Therese stood hand in hand in the centre of the cobble-stoned courtyard, the former standing with a look of awe at the splendour, the latter standing with a look of happiness, that she was home once again. 

Entering the residence, the true opulence was displayed in rich tapestries adorning the walls, buttressed ceilings adorned in gold-leafed brilliance and intricately painted medallions and crests. A large, white, marble fireplace, ornately carved and textured, was burning lowly in the great hall, casting a comforting warmth to the late spring air. 

Giles and Yvette were transcending the curving marbled staircase together to greet them, as they entered the hall. Therese introduced her roommate and new friend for life, Arabella to her parents, both displaying their new-found skills at being a lady. Her parents were visibly happy at how well their daughter and her friend presented themselves, as they made their way through the day, enjoying the extravagance of wealth and the leisure it brought.

It was the first night of their stay, that once again, an event brought the two of them closer in bond. Therese was awakened in the night by Arabella, crawling in beside her in bed. Asking her what was wrong, had Arabella telling her, that just a short while earlier, she had awoke and was looking out her window. She was looking in the direction of the chapel and noticed a woman leaving it. She said she had found it strange that the woman was entirely white in appearance and cast a faint glow about her. She had watched her walking through the courtyard and suddenly seemed to just go through the wall. 

Therese pulled her friend close to her and held hands, as she explained the story of Dame Blanc, the White Lady. Arabella listened with a saddening heart, hearing the tale of a young woman, betrothed to be married and killed for breach of the contract, that was arranged for her dowry. Instead of spending the night in bed with her new husband, she was bound and tossed alive into a pit and buried. A poacher had spied the event and ran for the Lord of Trecesson to inform him of the vile deed done on his lands. Taking him to the spot where she was, she was uncovered and upon her release, opened her eyes wide and breathed her last breath, closing her eyes again forever and breathing no more. The Lord, upon never knowing who the young woman was, erected a chapel and had a statue commissioned in her honour. Her dress and wreath were kept in the crypt, in remembrance of her and flowers laid upon her grave every anniversary of her death.

Arabella and Therese were crying after her telling of the tale and hugged each other. It was a bit later, that Arabella told her of the Gruagach at Castle Camus. The Green Lady was said to be the ghost of a past Lady of the Castle. She was murdered trying to defend the treasures inside and haunts the castle to this day. She appears as a greenish glow and legend had it, that when she asks, a chosen person must give her news. If she finds the news good, she will laugh and bring good fortune to the person. If it is sad news, she will weep and moan and bring a pall over your life. If it is bad news, she will wail and screech and most certainly, misfortune or even death, has been known to follow, for the teller.

The two stayed awake most of the night sharing tales, enjoying the closeness and comfort of each other. The next morning they awoke late and Therese took Arabella around the Chateau and then around the estate. Everywhere she looked, Arabella saw land being used to grow produce and livestock, barely an acre unused for a purpose. Her mind tallied how this would make her clan one of the wealthiest and most powerful clans in the area, if they could utilize the land they owned better.

The weekend passed in rapid fashion, the two sad to leave the splendour of the Chateau and the gracious warmth of Therese's parents. The ride back to the convent was cast with a longing, one that grew with every mile they past. Days and nights found the two inseparable as friends and were always together in everything they did. The Sisters of the convent seemed to be keeping a close watch of them, but never stopped them showing their fondness to each other.

During her second year, Therese received a letter from her mother, stating that her hand was being sought by an Earl in Scotland. Her answer was given for her, that she had accepted, her mother stating it was a suitable position of stature and wealth for her to attain through marriage. She was told she would be meeting him at Trecesson, upon her completion of her studies and a formal introduction being given at that time. Not even a month later, Arabella received a letter stating the intentions of a young man named Logan MacLean, seeking her hand in marriage as well.

She felt overjoyed at the thought, that she would be near her friend and be able to see her often, but felt the trepidation of being with a man she hadn't met, let alone know anything about. Therese beseeched Arabella to be her Maid of Honour, Arabella asking Therese to be hers, the two spending countless hours thinking of what they might do. Therese only wished she could be as happy as Arabella at the prospect of marriage. Arabella never came back for her final year, deciding to go back and marry Logan instead. The convent was never the same after she left, a depressive state hung on her, as she longed for her friend/sister's company.

Four months before she was to leave the convent in her final year, Therese received word from the Sheriff, that her parents were dead. The events surrounding their demise were clouded in mystery and nothing was yet established to the cause. A visit soon after from one of the servant staff, Marie Le Clair, a woman Therese had known since the day she arrived at Trecesson as a young girl, informed her of a man, Jacques, claiming to be the nephew of Henri Trecesson, Giles' uncle, arriving at the Chateau. He was invited to dinner and during the meal, an argument had broke out, but was quelled shortly after it started. Soon after Jacques left the Chateau, both Giles and Yvette were found dead in their chambers by her. No cause had been determined, but Marie suspected something about poisoning. 

With no choice, Therese left the convent, as she went to deal with the funeral and see to the affairs of the estate. While tending to the business of the estate for the next six months, she was informed by way of letter, that her title was being challenged by the man Marie had told her of earlier, Jacques de Trecesson. She set about having the Sheriff defend her title and claim, as well as have him investigated. It was during the investigation that Therese was informed of a possible plot by him to kill her. Nothing was provable, as yet, but he cautioned her to seek refuge elsewhere, until the matter was resolved.

With no where else to go, not knowing where Arabella was or how to reach her, she sent word to Douglas Wallace, Earl of Huntly, informing him of her parents demise and her intentions to carry through with the marriage. Several stress-filled months later, word came from him, extending an invitation to join him at Fort William, where they would carry out a formal engagement period of three months before marrying. Therese responded her consent to the invitation and informed him of her travel plans and intended arrival.

Therese held a final dinner with all her staff present. She looked out at those she had grown up with, those who she had played with and had taken care of her. To Therese, they were the last semblance of family to her. Her heart was weighed upon heavily, by the trials she was being put through and the course of action she had decided to chose and now having to say goodbye to them.

With the tears of sorrow washing down her face, Therese looked back at Trecesson, disappearing from view, as she rode in the carriage for the coast under the cover of darkness, to St Brieuc on the coast. Safe passage aboard a frigate was arranged by her servant Marie, so her uncle couldn't know where she was going. The farther away she went, the more alone and despondent Therese felt. How she wished she could find her friend, her sister, Arabella, when she arrived. 

Please vote and comment, both are appreciated, ty



Blood of the Clans Ch. 12



Two days after MacRae and his men left Inverlochy, two more groups had come to the castle with news. A pair of messengers in French uniform were given entry to see the Earl, the senior officer bearing word for Therese. Two hours after they left to return to the ship, Garreth and Grayson, along with twenty, heavily armed men rode in with four prisoners in tow. They dismounted, but left the men tied to the horses, their men keeping watch over them. 

Garreth and Grayson walked into the main house, but were told to wait, while behind the door, the Earl sat in his office, pondering how to handle his adversaries diplomatically. He knew it didn't matter about the strategy, but his show of authority, that would turn things in his favour and that of James MacRae's.

The Earl had his man open the door and usher the two highlanders in. They both showed their respects by pausing and bowing to Douglas, before continuing forward.

"My Lord, Earl, we come wi' a grave matter that demands justice be served. Five days past, Eilean Donan castle was raided by twenty MacRae clansmen. They killed Laird Hamish MacDonnell, everyone, women and children as well, save six young women, one being Lady Heather MacDonnell, who they raped and defiled in every way. The bodies of the dead were burned and dumped intae the loch. We ha'e brung them here tae ye now, tae stand trial fer their crimes." Grayson stated clearly and with as little emotion as he could.

The Earl looked at him and then to Garreth before speaking. "Is this a clan war?"

"No, yer Lordship. This was a hostile take-over by James MacRae. The MacDonnell's are at peace wi' the clans and have no quarrel wi' any." Grayson affirmed to Douglas. "Are the MacDonnell's the rightful clan to hold Donan? Have they been granted a charter by the King, titling the castle and lands to them?" Douglas asked the question, he knew the answers to already.

"The MacDonnell clan has held the seat at Donan fer more than two hundred years, M' Lord." Grayson quickly giving the information, hoping the Earl would see the length of time in possession being a token of their ownership.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, Laird MacDonald, but do they have a charter to hold title? Without it, I am in no position to help you. The clans have been sacking each other for centuries and those that are loyal to the King, are granted charters securing their castle and lands from any take-overs. Those that aren't, the Crown can't recognize true ownership, unless proven by a previous charter declaring it." Douglas said with staid emotion, all the while laughing heartily at the two highlanders on the inside. 

He had studied the laws of his realm and knew he had the power to punish James MacRae and his sons for their deeds. He also knew the Scots standing before him had no understanding of his laws. "As it stands, my Lairds, the MacRae's are in as much right to own Eilean Donan, as the MacDonnell's are. Are the MacDonnell's back in the castle now?"

"Yes, my Lord Earl, after securing the castle, Lady Anne MacDonnell is at the Seat again." Grayson told him, letting the Earl know he felt justified in battling the MacRae's to restore rightful possession.

"Then for now, I will recognize Lady Anne MacDonnell and her clan, as the constables and grant them permission to stay. I will also make it known, that Eilean Donan will be held in my holdings as an unchartered castle and lands, subject to an investigation into its legal titling. I will also conduct an investigation into your claims for the crimes committed by your prisoners and shall place them in my custody, until a trial is set. Is there anything more, my Lairds?" Douglas said, almost smiling. His composure one of smug indifference, as he sat looking at papers on his desk. 

Garreth and Grayson felt unsure about the outcome of the situation. They looked at the Earl a while longer to see if he would contribute more information, then Douglas looked up at both of them again, but as subordinates, a look of wonderment on his face.

"Is there anything else my Lairds?" his words finalizing their thoughts.

"No M'Lord, we'll turn the prisoners o'er tae yer men and await yer decision. Thank ye, yer Lordship." Garreth said with suspicion in his tone, Grayson looking incredulously at him, not believing more shouldn't be said.

Garreth gave a short, quick bow of his head and turned to go. Grayson, stood bewildered, and hesitated to follow. The Earl's guard opened the door for Garreth, who was moving quickly to it. At that instant, Lady Therese was ready to knock. Before a thought of action could be taken, Garreth plowed into Therese and sent her reeling backwards. In a quick move, he grabbed her arms strongly and stopped her fall. Therese let out a cry of shock, as she stopped suddenly at her capture. 

In the instant of their eyes meeting, time stopped and neither moved. Garreth felt a tightening in his chest, his heart beating stronger and faster. Therese searched his blue-grey eyes with hers, seeing the depth of the man who held her. Her heart raced as well, her breathing deeper, the rise and fall of her breasts, as she breathed hard, threatened to spill them from their precarious perch in her décolletage.

Garreth slowly brought her up towards him, looking into her emerald, green eyes and saw them fixed on his, knowing instantly they had connected and formed a bond, felt it strong in his heart. He knew she felt it too, her eyes and touch admitting it. Her hands held onto him, partly in support, partly in connection. Therese was first to break the magic of the moment by clearing her throat, then they slowly parted, their hands lingering as long as they could near each other.

"M'Lady, I'm truly sorry and apologize fer my aggressiveness. I hope I did'ne harm ye in any way?" Garreth said with a genuine concern, as he bowed in respect.

"No, M'Lord, I do thank you for your quick response though, in correcting your intrusion." Therese replied with politeness, an underlying layer of attraction connected to it.

"Allow me tae introduce myself. I'm Laird Garreth MacLeod of Harris and Dunvegan. Who do I ha'e the pleasure of meeting?" Garreth said smiling, more at ease, holding his hand to her.

"I am Lady Therese de Mornay. I am the betrothed of the Earl of Huntly." Therese told him, offering her hand to him.

Garreth took it in his, feeling the softness in contradiction to the feel of his own. Lowering his head, his eyes fixed on hers, he kissed the delicate skin. Her scent rose to him and he inhaled, as he stood. Her smile belied her enjoyment of his kiss. "A pleasure tae meet ye, Lady Therese."

"What is going on? MacLeod, are you mad? You could have seriously hurt Lady Therese. I will ask you to conduct yourself more civilly while you're here." Douglas chastised Garreth, trying to appear concerned for her well-being.

"I do apologize yer Lordship. I was walking in a most inappropriate manner." Garreth replied, his tone belying he took it with little seriousness.

The Earl looked at him with a disdain and took hold of Therese's arm. Garreth looked at Therese and then to the Earl.

"Yer Lordship, I will be requiring rooms fer Laird Grayson and myself. Due tae the length of travel, we'll need tae stay, while ye conduct yer investigation and hold the trial afterwards." Garreth demanded from him, knowing it was less than thirty miles to Tioram.

"I will make the arrangements my Lairds." Douglas said back, with a layer of distaste seeping through.

Lady Therese had a look of happiness sweep over her, the prospect of more time to spend getting to know more of Garreth MacLeod. She washed a look of staid reserve over it quickly before she was noticed, but Garreth had spied the moment, remaining reserved not to give her away. 

Garreth bowed to the Earl and thanked him, then turned to Lady Therese again.

"A pleasure tae ha'e met ye, Lady Therese and congratulations on yer upcoming nuptials wi' his Lordship." his words placating the Earl and making further connection for his feelings for her, as he took her hand once more and kissed the smooth, porcelain skin offered.

Lady Therese blushed lightly and curtseyed pleasantly to him, a warm smile on her face. "It was a pleasure to have met you as well, Laird Garreth. I'm sure I will see you about, while you stay."

"My thanks tae ye, yer Lordship, fer allowing us the privilege of yer hospitality." Grayson said, as he quickly dashed forward, taking Garreth's arm and directed him away from his attraction.

Once out of ear-shot, Grayson hissed through his teeth at Garreth, "Are ye raving mad, Garreth? What do ye think yer doing wi' Lady Therese? I saw the looks between ye's, so I know that little badger of a man, Douglas, was bound tae notice it as well. Are ye trying tae get yer self locked up? Because I'm no going tae join ye."

Garreth smiled widely at hearing Grayson confirm the connection between Therese and him. He happily laid his hand over Grayson's shoulders and turned to him.

"It'd be worth it, Grayson. Did ye no see the beauty of the woman? I'd take a year in jail fer a night wi' her. Are ye going tae say ye would'ne?" Garreth challenged him.

Grayson thought about the exquisite features of Therese and smiled widely with the same thought Garreth did. "Aye." slinging his hand over Garreth's shoulder, laughing together, as they came back to the men. 

Grayson signalled Glenn to him and in moments, was stopped before him.

"Glenn, take the men back tae Tioram, see tae the castle that it's secure. Make sure the men are well-fed and tended tae. Garreth and I will be staying, while the Earl makes his investigation and then the trial. Ha'e the men watch the coast fer any strange birlinns sailing about. Make a trip tae Donan every other day tae make sure the castle is safe. Change the guard wi' fresh men and do that each time ye go." Grayson told him, as opposed to ordering him. 

Glenn was as close as a brother to Grayson, having grown up and shared many moments in their lives together. Glenn was Grayson's cousin and family, his mother being sister to Grayson's father, his father being Lady Anne's brother. Glenn's parents were killed during a raid by the MacKenzie's and was only spared because he and his brother, Iain, were with him at Tioram celebrating his fifteenth birthday. He placed his hand on his shoulder and Glenn returned his in kind.

"Be safe Laird Grayson, ye as well Laird Garreth. This is close tae the MacRae's lands and they won't be too far away. I'll see tae Tioram and Lady Arabella, then make the arrangements fer a rotation of men at Donan. If any trouble comes, I'll ha'e the men from Tioram and Camus come and aid them. Grayson," Glenn asked more personally now, 

"The men ha'e fought well and deserve a reward fer it. Shall I set out a table fer them and wi' yer permission, a keg of whisky between ten men?" Glenn replied, smiling at his suggestion.

"Make it between twenty, Glenn. They may be our kith and kin, but they're a right rowdy lot when they get the drink in them." Grayson replied in laughter, causing the others to laugh along.

"As ye wish, Laird Grayson." Glenn held his hand to Grayson, who clasped wrists with him. "I'll see ye as soon as justice is carried out."

"Glenn," Garreth took his attention from Grayson, " Ha'e Peadair sail tae Dunvegan and re-enforce Camus wi' more men and birlinns. Make sure they have a measure of cheer up there as well. God speed yer journey, Glenn." Garreth gave a wink to him, smiling his agreement to the men enjoying their time.

"My thanks, Laird. I shall see tae yer orders." Glenn said, taking Garreth's wrist in bond.

Glenn mounted his horse and rode up to Peadair, telling him of Garreth's orders. Peadair nodded and turned to Garreth, raising his hand high, palm open, facing them and then closed it in a fist, dropping his arm quickly, signalling he acknowledged the orders. Glenn and Peadair rode off with the others in line behind them, two abreast, the MacLeod bull's head banner, and the MacDonald tri-castle towers banner, leading the procession. 

Garreth and Grayson turned away and headed for the house to be shown to their rooms. From her second story window, Lady Therese watched the pair, Garreth in particular, walk towards her. She took note of his stride as he walked, how he carried himself, his left hand draped over the hilt of his long Claymore, now clean and shining in the sunlight. She could see his strength and athleticism, his pride and honour. She noticed his long, dark hair and how it blew in the breeze, wrapping around his face. She also watched at how he inter-acted with his friend, Laird Grayson. She could see they were close, sensing their lives had been bonded in friendship since at least childhood. 

In her heart she desired a man like that. The heat she felt in her loins told her she was smitten with him, that he was the one she wished to give herself to. Thinking of what her reality was, she felt a strong sense of despair at what her life would be like with Douglas instead. She clasped her hands to her stomach, an aching radiating out from it, one she knew threatened to remain with her, for the rest of her life.

The two highlanders disappeared from view, as they entered the house and Therese turned away from the window, to find Douglas standing in the doorway looking at her. Her face took on one of surprise at feeling she was caught spying and held thoughts that he could read her mind and what she was thinking. She flushed a bright red and became nervous, hoping her fears weren't true.

"Are you all right, Lady Therese? You looked lost in thought, then seemed to have a wave of discomfort come over you." Douglas asked, unsure of what held her attention out the window.

Therese heard an excuse that she could use and went with it. "Oui. I was thinking of my friend, Arabella MacDonald, and how Laird Grayson reminded me of her. They both have hair the same in colour and she has a brother of that name. Are they brother and sister?" Therese asked in hope. 

Knowing his answer was a lie as he said it, "I don't believe they are Lady Therese. There are many clans named MacDonald in the area. And from what I've seen, many are as red haired as Laird MacDonald. I still have men asking about for your friend and I'm sure they'll find her soon."

He had convincingly lied that he knew nothing of an Arabella MacDonald or a castle named Tioram. He explained he had only been placed in his position just a year earlier and hadn't met all the chiefs of the clans surrounding him, so her name hadn't been brought to his attention as of yet.

Therese sighed longingly at giving up the hope she might have been close to seeing her friend again. She found herself giving up hope on many things in her life. One hope she did her best to keep alive was her beloved Trecesson.

Therese had waited patiently every day since her arrival, for a letter or dispatch, telling her, her uncle was on trial for his crimes. Her future was uncertain, as long as he remained free, her death needed to take over her father's lands and holdings. Being in Scotland provided that security from him, but her future as the wife of Douglas Gordon seemed just as unappealing and certainly a death to part of her.

Douglas slowly walked towards her, keeping his hands behind his back. He walked up close to her and looked into her eyes. Therese became nervous, thinking he could read her thoughts of Garreth.

"I might have something here to bring a smile to your face." Douglas told her, a smile creeping across his face.

Therese relaxed somewhat at his mention of having something, her guarded feelings still keeping her tense.

"What is that, my Lord?" she said inquisitively, a noticeable strain in her voice. Douglas brought his hands around and Therese could see a letter in his right one. Holding it up, she saw the seal of the King's Sheriff imprinted in the wax seal. Her face was now one of desperate excitement. Taking the letter from Douglas tentatively, she broke the seal and hesitated opening it, unsure if she wanted him to know the content of it. 

"I'll leave you to read it, my dear. Allow me the privilege of knowing the content, if I can be of any help." Douglas told her, watching her reaction to seeing it. "Thank you, my Lord," Therese replied, curtseying in response, but not agreeing to divulge anything, yet giving that impression.

Douglas smiled and took Therese's hand, kissing it softly, his face showing a degree of affection. He let it go and turned away, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the letter in her hand. Therese absently wiped the back of her hand on her dress, then broke the seal and opened the first flap and then slowly opened it completely. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for whatever the news read.

'Lady Therese de Mornay, I require your return to France to attend the royal court in Paris. Upon investigation of the events of your parents passing, at your request, it has been discovered that the man claiming to be Jacques de Trecesson, was in fact an impostor and has no relationship to Henri de Trecesson. He has been found guilty of poisoning your parents, the details of the investigation will be made available to you, as well as your presence for the sentencing. Your immediate return will be made possible by the ship bringing you this letter. It is my hope this letter finds you well and look forward to your return.'

The tears flowed from her eyes, as her heart and mind realized the reality of the words. She clutched the letter to her bosom, treating it as lovingly as a cherished child. She stood in silence and sobbed quietly in relief, knowing her life was safe. Her parent's lands and chateau would remain her's to control, giving her the sense of purpose and stability. 

Composing herself, Therese made her way to Douglas' office, where he sat looking through papers. She entered and came up to him smiling, tear stains down her cheeks, as Douglas raised his head and looked at her inquisitively.

"Good news, my dear?" he asked her, curious to the tears and seeing her smile.

"Yes, it is. I am to return to France at the request of the King's Sheriff, to attend the trial. This man, an impostor, he was found guilty of murdering my parents and I must leave as soon as I possibly can. A ship is waiting in the harbour for me now. I must beg your leave to attend this trial, my Lord." Therese told him with a mixture of emotion, trying to remain composed.

"That is good news my dear. By all means, have your things prepared and I'm sure by tomorrow's end, you'll be ready to leave. The tides should be right and you can leave in the morning after that. Are you aware of your expected return?" Douglas asked her, wanting an assurance of her return to him and their pre-arranged nuptials.

"I am not sure of the length of my stay, my Lord. Once I am made aware, I will send you notice of my return." Therese replied, thinking of what to say, not wanting to alarm the Earl to her real intentions of never seeing him again.

Therese gave a slight bow and turned to go back to her room. As she neared the stairs, the sound of footsteps alerted her to someone coming down and she waited. A shadow appeared on the wall and she knew instantly from the outline who it was. Her heart raced again, as he rounded the last corner and came into view.

Garreth looked up and saw Therese waiting there. His eyes met hers again and he stopped. The moment once again seemed to last forever for them. Finally breaking the spell, Garreth smiled and spoke.

"Lady Therese, we meet again. I've learned tae slow down around here, can'ne be bumping intae everyone tae meet them. I do apologize once again fer my earlier introduction." 

"Laird Garreth, there is no need to apologize. No harm came to me, so there is no need for your concern. I am happy to see you again under nicer circumstances though." Therese said smiling and an ever-growing blush coming over her.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 12



Garreth gave her a smile and a soft bow to her, "It is always a pleasure to see you. Till we meet again then, Lady Therese." 

Therese bowed softly to him as well and smiled in return. "Till next time, Laird Garreth." 

She walked up the stairs, with a lightness in her step, her smile still strong on her face. Garreth turned and headed to the office, smiling at his thoughts.

Grayson was waiting for him as he approached. "What took ye so long? I've been here fere'er already."

"Sorry, my friend. I was detained by a lovely smile." Garreth said to him, his smile still strong on his face as well.

"Yer daft man. She's betrothed tae the Earl, in case ye've fergotten." Grayson warned him needlessly.

"I know Grayson. I can'ne help it, if we bump intae one another on the stairs, now can I? And I must be polite tae her, don't ye agree?" Garreth retorted with laughter, after he spoke.

"Och, I told ye already. I'm no spending one night in the jails because of ye." Grayson feigned disgust at his actions. "Ye really think she fancies ye, then?"

"Aye, I think she does." Garreth said smiling, pondering the question as he spoke. The pair walked to the door and were presented once again to the Earl. Douglas was looking at a map of the area, as well as charters of title.

"Ah, my Lairds. Your timing is perfect. I was going through the charters and it seems neither of your lands are titled under a charter by the King. Were you aware of that?" Douglas informed them. 

"My Lord, Dunvegan and the lands of Harris ha'e been under MacLeod rule fer hundreds of years. There's no need fer us tae have it titled under a charter." Garreth explained to him.

"Aye, the same with Tioram as well. They were declared ours by the Lord of the Isles." Grayson added.

"That may be so, my Lairds, but the King's law states that all lands must be chartered by the King to be declared legitimate. I'm not in a position to make laws, I can only enforce those made by the King." Douglas informed them, with a feigned sense of washing his hands of the matter, letting them know his hands were tied by decree.

"I'll go tae war wi' anyone who tries tae take Tioram, or our lands away from us. No charter is going tae make a difference tae us." Grayson said it with more aggression and approached Douglas, who moved back in reaction.

"No one is talking of war, Laird Grayson. I'm merely stating the position of the King and of course, my position. It is the law of the land." Douglas returned with a sense of grace, hoping to diffuse Grayson's aggression.

"Whether the King wishes tae present charters or no, my good Lord, our lands and castles will remain in our possession, law or no law." Garreth calmly stated as civilly as he could. "Now, tae the reason we came, we wish tae make claim tae the MacRae's crimes. We'll provide the events as they happened and swear testament tae it." he continued, taking the focus away from one law and putting it on another.

"I will take your statements my Lairds, in good time. I'm still rather busy with other things though, as you can see. Please enjoy your time here, while I conduct my business and I will send for you when I'm ready." Douglas gave them his best look of authority and dismissed them.

Garreth looked at Grayson and nodded his head to leave. Grayson looked at Douglas and bowed, then turned back again before leaving with Garreth. They waited until they were in the open grounds before Garreth started talking.

"I don't know what the Earl is up tae, but I'm getting the feeling he is'ne taking this seriously fer some reason." Garreth queried.

"I don't know either, and I don't like the sounds of this charter shite as well." Grayson said louder, not caring about ears overhearing them.

"That was something of interest tae remember, indeed. If I did'ne know better, I'd think the Earl is thinking of expanding the King's lands, charter or not." Garreth opined to him.

"If you ask me, the whole bloody thing stinks. I don'ne like that wee fart of a man, I don'ne, Garreth." Grayson professed strongly.

Garreth laughed at the mention of Douglas' description and they both enjoyed a moment of laughter at the Earl's expense. Once again, desirous eye's watched them walking. 

Looking at the letter in her hand and feeling it putting words to the song in her heart, she watched him with more depth of hope. A chance to live a life with a man who she admired and in her heart now, someone to cherish. She knew for certain that she would never return to this place, to that loathsome man below her. A marriage of convenience to bolster her position and gain favour for prosperity by marrying to Scottish nobility, no matter who it may be, was not something her heart would accept, ever.

Her thoughts now lay in securing her home and lands, as well as hope to be with Garreth. There would be no compromise to her wants now. She had money and wealth again, further to bolster her already beautiful face and body. She wanted her heart to be happy, living each day with someone she loved and being loved in return.

She smiled to herself, holding the letter to her breasts, her mind wishing it was Garreth holding her. Staring out the window, gazing into the distance towards home, her mind took her there, letting her imagine what it would be like now. She imagined standing in the front hall of her chateau, her heritage displayed proudly on the walls. The rich tapestries accentuating the beauty of the hallway, the massive hearth roaring a warmth into the room. Portraits of her parents predominantly placed in their honour. The sound of hoof beats closing outside. Then the door opens and Laird Garreth, finely dressed, enters and comes to her. Smiling, his eyes sparkling brightly in the firelight, standing before her, reaching for her...

After the two Lairds had left, Douglas had set his mind to see if he could some how take back Donan, without force. He proposed to look into the laws and his rights as Earl, to see if there was anything he could manipulate to his advantage. Douglas sought to enjoy his final night with his bride-to-be and see how she was doing after reading the letter. Finding her door open, he had the opportunity to watch her for a few minutes. Therese was far off in her thoughts, that was obvious, but to what did she pay her attention to, was his question. Not knowing her desires for Garreth, Douglas assumed it was the trial of her uncle and her feeling of safety now. 

"You look lost in a thought, my Dear. Are you troubled, Lady Therese?" Douglas asked her quietly.

Therese let out a quick gasp and turned quickly, to see Douglas standing in the doorway again. Her face was a mix of guilt and fright, one disguising the other. 

"My Lord, you startled me. I didn't hear you knock." Therese gently reminded him of his rudeness. "I am fine, thank you. I was just thinking of being in France again. I do miss my home and the people. That is what I was thinking about as you came in. I will need to see that the chateau is secure, as I will be taking my place at the head of the estate." she finished, hoping the details would suffice in her defence of her dreamy state of mind. 

"Yes, of course, you must see to your estate." Douglas was sensing a long departure by her. " As you said my dear, you will send notice of your expected return once your affairs are concluded. It would be my pleasure, to spend time there with you, after our marriage." he added with a flair of surety in his pronouncement.

Therese tried to remain smiling and positive towards Douglas, as her mind reeled, in how to respond to him. The thought never occurred in her romanticizing, on how to inform Douglas, she was denying him her hand in marriage.

"That would be a nice way to spend our first night," a knowing smile of Garreth in her mind again. "I will make arrangements while I'm there to decorate the chateau for our arrival." her smile assuaging his doubts and allowing him a sense of false comfort.

"I shall return then to my office and leave you to your thoughts, Lady Therese. I will see you later at supper." Douglas said, smiling impishly and bowing to her, as he departed her room.

Therese sighed hard at the thought of being caught by him, as well as being trapped into confirming marriage to him. Her mind raced wildly trying to put it all together. How to leave and remain in France, leave Douglas forever, yet find a way to let Garreth know her intentions and be with him.

The rest of the day passed by in a daze for her, as she pondered one scenario after another. All of them ended one way or another, with her and Garreth being together. As the late, spring sun set the sky ablaze with colour, Therese realized her only way of accomplishing her goals, was to write Douglas a letter, stating her intentions to go back to France, declining the arrangement of marriage to him and allow an opportunity for her to pursue her feelings towards Garreth and hope he is of the same mind. As she prepared for supper, her mind was fixed on playing out her time with Douglas, until the ship sailed back for France.

**********

Stuart finished the telling, as they rounded the point leaving the Kyle of Lochalsh and headed south to Tioram along Kyle Rhea. The mid-day sun was getting warm, but the channelled breezes provided an element of relief. The guests were enjoying deck chairs and standing along the rail, as the yacht smoothly plowed through the choppy water.

"On the right, up ahead a wee bit, is where Knock Castle used tae be. It's gone tae ruin noo, but ye'll see where it stood." Tavish informed them, pointing off to the distance on the right.

"Tavish, I keep hearing it called different names, Knock one time and Camus the next, why is that?" Patricia MacLeod from Harrisburg, Pa. asked, gaining everyone's curiosity to the same issue. 

"Aye, well. it goes like this. Cnoc means hill and Uaine means green, in Gaelic. O'er the years, it's just been called Knock, like ye do on a door. Castle Camus is what it was originally called when it was built. The castle stands on a green hill, o'erlooking the sea, hence the names Knock and Camus." Tavish gave his best explanation of the names to everyone.

"So the real name is Castle Camus and the nickname Knock Castle, is because it sits on a hill. I understand now." Gayle replied and everyone nodded along, that it told them what they wanted to know.

The yacht encountered a fog bank rolling in from the sea, a common occurrence in the area, due to the climate. but un-nerving to those who hadn't experienced sailing into blindness and the unknown. The mood took on a sombre tone and Tavish couldn't resist increasing the nervousness of the guests with a tale of ghosts.

"Oh, I forgot tae mention about the Gruagach that haunts that place. Do ye's know what a Gruagach is?" Tavish teased them, getting their interest levels up. "She's the Green Lady of Knock."

With a unanimous showing of no, by shakes of the head, Tavish felt delighted in telling them a ghost story.

"A long time ago, before the castle went tae ruin, the spirit of a slain Lady inhabited the castle and watched o'er the fortunes inside. E'en though the castle is gone, she still watches o'er the place. It's said if you gi' her good news, she'll laugh, and gi' ye good luck. If it's bad, she'll screech and bad luck will fall upon ye. There's the castle the noo." Tavish finished saying, pointing at the ruins on the coast. 

Dennis slowed the twin deisels down to a low idle, so they would have as much chance as they could, to get a few good shots. His only worry was anyone coming along and not seeing them sitting still. The guests turned to look at it and tried to take pictures, the fog making it an eerie display to capture. Debra looked through her viewfinder and focused on the castle. There on her screen, was a greenish glow coming from behind the last remaining wall. She looked up to see it, but it wasn't there. Looking back at her screen, the glow was still visible.

"Tom, look at the castle. Do you see a green glow coming from behind the wall?" she asked, pointing in the direction of her camera. Tom looked at the crumbling wall, peering through the fog billowing by them. He shook his head and told her, "No, I don't see anything. Why?" 

"Look at this." Debra whispered quietly.

Tom looked at the viewer and could see the green glow. It was faint, but slowly pulsing. 

"Uncle Tav." Tom called to Tavish, without causing attention to come to them.

"What is it, Tom?" Tavish asked smiling, as he came.

Tom spoke in hushed tones now, "Do you see a green glow coming from the castle?"

"No, I don't, but I know some people ha'e. Do ye see a glow?" Tavish asked him with anticipation of Tom saying yes, ready to tease him about it.

"Look in Deb's camera. Do see it there?" Tom asked with uncertainty.

Tavish looked into Deb's viewfinder, then looked up quickly. He looked back and then at Deb. He covertly looked at some of the other screens of the guest's cameras and didn't see the glow. He walked back with concern and looked into the screen again. There was the glow, as certain as any other thing in the image. Tavish looked around and went for Stuart. He found him on the bridge with Dennis, discussing the route into Loch Moidart to Tioram.

"Stuart, come wi' me fer a minute, there's something ye ha'e tae see." Tavish said, a serious look on his face.

Stuart left Dennis to his course and followed Tavish back on deck. They walked to Tom and Deb, Tavish whispering in Stuart's ear. Stuart stopped smiling and looked in the screen. He looked up as well and quickly back. 

"Looks like the Gruagach has chosen ye tae offer news tae her. Tell her yer news and see if she responds." Stuart told her.

Others over heard and quickly wanted to know what was happening. Stuart saw the rush to see and told everyone to stand behind Debra. He turned and yelled to Dennis to cut the engines, which were quickly turned down and left idling, the current carrying them back along slowly. Stuart looked back at Deb excitedly.

"Go ahead Lass, tell her yer news." Stuart told her softly. 

Deb immediately froze at being centre stage in such a bizarre situation. "Do I have to say it out loud or think it, or what do I do?, Uncle Stuart?" 

"Being a ghost, I guess ye can send it by a thought." he replied, not knowing the true answer for her, but allowing her some choice of privacy.

Deb closed her eyes and sent her thoughts across the water to the greenish glow. She told of her love for Tom and her joy at becoming a MacLeod member, once they were married. Finishing, she looked at her screen and the glow lightened in hue, brightening as well. Everyone craned to see the screen and looked at the castle in disbelief. In the foggy eeriness, the sound of muddied laughter could be heard.

"I guess we'll ne'er know what it was ye said tae her, but it must ha'e been good." Stuart told her, smiling in astonishment at what he saw and heard.

Everyone asked Deb about the experience, some guessing at what she told the Gruagach. Deb looked at her screen and the glow was gone. Others quickly looked to see if they might have a glow and take a turn, but it wasn't to be. The moment passed, adding a note of the mysterious unknown to the trip. 

"What did you say to her, Deb?" Tom asked her, once the people went back to the rail, straining to see the castle clearer.

Deb smiled deviously at him, "I'll tell you, the way you told me what you said."

Tom smiled, remembering how he had told her he loved her last night and pulled her into a hug. He looked into her eyes lovingly, a smile growing on his lips. He kissed her softly and told her after a wink, "Later"

Deb saw the look in his eyes, that he knew what she meant, then took his face in her hands and kissed him. "Later, then." she quipped back and slapped his butt, to which Tom gave her rounded cheeks a good smack.

Tavish watched the two go at each other and laughed once they kissed again. "Do ye think things might'a turned oot a wee bit different, if we fought the MacRae's like that, back then?" he said loud enough for everyone to hear, looking at the couple.

Everyone laughed at the poke at them, some of the women sighing, but smiling none the less, recognizing the love between Tom and Deb. They kissed once more to cheers and applause by everyone, then broke away and laughed along, enjoying the moment. The engines came to life again and the yacht slid forward through the water, heading for a point unseen to everyone. Dennis sounded his foghorn, the sound cutting through the moving shroud. Faintly in the distance, a unified yell was heard. Once again he sounded his horn, everyone listening now for a return signal. Seconds later another yell was heard, a bit closer this time and louder. 

"Coming on your port side, Captain." the deck hand informed him.

All eyes looked to port and waited, as the captain slowed to pass. Out of the fog, a dark green horse head at the prow of a black birlinn appeared. Soon a green sail with a castle tower, a sword held by an arm projecting from the turret, two black stripes on each side, could be seen being gently filled by the light breeze blowing the fog in. Oars were being rowed in uniform strokes by each man and soon it was abreast of them. A row of battle targes guarded the faces of those inside, not allowing recognition of who was in it. Only the person at the tiller could be made out. Long, flowing, dark hair, a sheepskin robe and a dark kilt were all that could be seen with any clarity. As one, the men inside yelled out, "Dh'Aindeoin co Theiradh E", as they rowed past. In moments, the birlinn disappeared again into the fog, once more hearing the cry from the men, as it faded.

All eyes had a bewildered look in them at what they had just seen and heard. They looked at Tavish and Stuart for assurance they had planned it. Both of them shrugged, along with a shake of their heads, showing the same incredulous look, relaying they had no idea who they were either.

Clint MacLeod, Patricia's son, broke the bewilderment and asked them, "What did they shout as they passed? It sounded Gaelic to me."

Tavish looked at Stuart and answered honestly. "It was the MacDonald battle cry. It means, 'Gainsay Who Dare'. And they were flying MacDonald battle colours as well. That was a battle-ready birlinn if I ever saw one. Tae be honest, I know of no one who has a birlinn in the clan, so I ha'e no idea who it was." 

That just made the whole scene that much more eerier, than it already was. Everyone talked amongst themselves about what they saw, or suspected. Tavish and Stuart were questioned up and down about it, wanting to know if they had anything to do with it. In a matter of minutes, the fog cleared and the sun beat down brightly again, slowly wiping away thoughts and talk of the birlinn. Dennis sped up and soon after turned to port, to head into Loch Moidart. Knowing the loch better than anyone, Tavish played guide to Dennis, helping him weave past the sandbars and other outcroppings of rocks to watch for. 

The sight of Castle Tioram, was an imposing spectacle to the natural panorama. Hundreds of years of disuse and weather had taken their toll on her, but it's glory was still very present. The yacht pulled up as close as it could, before cutting the engines and dropping the anchor. All the cameras were busy capturing the vista of the castle, as the brothers lowered the dingy into the water. Everyone climbed into it, then took off their shoes and rolled up their pant legs for the few chilly steps in the water and onto shore. Stuart stayed on-board, as did Argus, while Tavish led the guests around the castle. 

Once they were at the entrance, Tavish continued telling of Tioram's history and the event's leading up to a grand battle between the clans. Stuart asked Dennis where to stop in for a bite to eat, looking for the sea equivalent of a drive thru fish and chip shop, once they left Tioram. He suggested a stop at Mallaig to re-fuel and there were several good shops to choose from. They expected their return to Dunvegan would be about six, so Stuart took out his mobile phone and called ahead to Gordon, to have dinner prepared for eight. He finished his call and looked out at the people on shore.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 12



"Now there's a grand story-teller, if I've e'er seen one." Stuart spoke out his thoughts to Argus, Dennis, Frick and Frack, as they watched Tavish. They all joined in a chuckle watching him, as Tavish paraded about, hands and arms going about in the air, as he told them tales of times past in his bravado and flourishing displays.

*

Thank you for voting and commenting, both are greatly appreciated. RJ



Blood of the Clans Ch. 13



While Garreth and Grayson awaited the start of the trial, James MacRae had already broken the cease-fire pact and sat with several leaders of smaller clans, at the head of the table of Andrew MacDougall. Andrew, sat on his left, in his deteriorating Dunollie Castle, while to his right was a captain of the Earl's guard, dressed in full regalia for representation of his position. 

McCauley Fraser, Harlan Douglas and Jacob MacLean sat to either side of Andrew and the captain. He had put it to the leaders to join with him, under the Earl's protection and backing, to take Eilean Donan, Castle Tioram, along with Castle Camus, after which, charters would be drawn up titling the castle and lands to them. James pronounced his intent on Donan being the seat of the MacRae's power, still deciding if Camus should go to the Fraser's or the Douglas', both being strong clans, but neither having enough strength to defend it on their own. Tioram was going to Jacob MacLean, without question. 

His family had been driven out by the Campbell's and lost Castle Duart and their lands to them. It was Jacob's beliefs that the MacDonald's lost Duart for them, for not aiding them better. Now that vengeance was nigh for his clan's loss, Jacob was swearing any oath he could, to attain a castle again. Andrew would retain Dunollie and the new alliance would return the lands lost in recent feuding with larger clans in the area, the increase in revenues and spoils of war would pay for upgrading the castle. 

The Stewart's of Appin were one clan who had taken a large percentage of the coastal lands they once held, Braedon ruling them now with a fairer hand and creating a stronger bond with the clans working under him. None of these clans had a seat of power, or lands to control, so James felt they would put forth a strong effort to have some place to call theirs.

McCauley looked across the table at Andrew, talking of the enemy's birlinns and caught his attention. "Andrew, I want tae know how we'll divide the birlinns between us, once we o'erthrow them." his question being overheard by the others and listened to intently.

"That would depend on how many are left after battle, that can still sail, or be repaired. If they all sink, no one gets any. So that should be taken intae consideration when we attack them. Make sure we can take o'er a boat and use it ourselves. Maybe we should divide them this way Fraser, what e'er ones ye take, that'll be the ones ye keep." Andrew gave his thoughts and opinions constructively. "If you wreck it, or lose it in battle, it's yer loss only. If yer good, ye'll ha'e yerself a fleet a birlinns."

James listened to MacDougall's reply and pondered the possibilities of the proposal. With the control of a castle situated at the head of so much water traffic, it was a wise idea to have a large fleet of birlinns to patrol the waters. He sat, estimating he should need six or seven birlinns to control the waters from the Kyle of Lochalsh, along Loch Alsh itself, into Loch Long on the north and Loch Duich to the south. Having lost one of the three his men stole, he weighed his chances at getting four or five more, before the others got theirs.

"I like that idea, Andrew. Gi'es us a reason tae plan this out right. Wrecking everything will put us right back tae where we are the now. We want the castles tae live in, the lands tae farm and the waters tae fish. We need they birlinns tae defend all this water we're going tae get. I know there'll be some losses, but we only want tae kill they bastards and use everything they have, am I wrong?" James questioned them, looking to see who was of an intelligent mind and thought ahead. He could see he made a good choice in bringing Andrew MacDougall into the fold.

"That's good fer ye MacRae, ye have birlinns tae attack wi', but some of us don'ne. How do we get one, if we can'ne attack wi' one?" Harlan Douglas retorted, letting them know his objection to the plan, Fraser agreeing with him, nodding his head.

"I suggest we do some raiding along the coast and get our first birlinns. Our chances are better getting them that way, than fighting fer them. If we stage the raids properly, we can ha'e five, six, maybe even ten birlinns before weeks end." Jacob MacLean added nonchalantly into the equation, then drank down his ale in a single draft, before reaching for the jug to re-fill it again..

The men all returned nods of approval to him, the prospect of acquiring birlinns that way appealing to everyone. Jacob worked out a long belch and patted his stomach before continuing.

"I've sailed along the south of Loch Linnhe, I know where I can find four birlinn the now, I can ha'e. I know a passage along the coast further will gi' me a few more as well. Seeing as I know of them, I'll take the first two and ye lot can divide what we find amongst yerselves. I think that solves our problem of no birlinns tae start wi'" Jacob told them, setting his place at the trough already.

"And just how do we get they birlinns, MacLean? Go knock on the door and ask fer them?" McCauley quipped back, laughing at him, trying to appear smarter than Jacob.

James could see the head of the Fraser's wasn't the type for thinking things through and just re-acted to them. His position was already being re-set for him as he sat there, unaware of how he was being cast.

Jacob looked at him, laughing as he tried to take a drink. "Are ye daft Fraser? We round up they birlinn a night or two before we go tae battle. Gi'e them no time tae figure out who's done what. We go tae war, who's going tae argue wi' us about it? No one, that's who" Jacob retorted back at him, his tone one of condescension and mockery.

McCauley Fraser sat looking dumbfounded by the obviousness of it. The others looked at him and laughed at his ineptness to grasp the obvious. Fraser rose aggressively, glaring at them all. Knowing he couldn't stand up to all of them, he just shouted, "Bah," at them and walked away to the other side of the room by himself.

James MacRae sat and pondered the perspective of the Fraser's being in control of Camus and knew after McCaulay's last response, that it wasn't a good idea to have him in a position of power. His focus changed to Harlan Douglas as the better choice. He wasn't a man of great stature or presence, but James saw a quick mind and a sharp wit in him. He wanted to ally himself with men who respected his position and that of the King's as well, someone who knew how to plan ahead for battle. Jacob was showing those traits to him, as he expressed his thoughts on situations.

"He'll be swimming tae a birlinn tae take it, the stupid dolt, while the rest of us sail on tae victory, so we will." Jacob said, laughing again in mockery of Fraser's ineptness.

That was all McCauley Fraser could stand from Jacob MacLean's insults and his belittling of him. He crossed the room, drawing his sword as he came. Jacob had his back to him, but the eyes of the others warned him of the danger coming. In a quick manoeuvre, he had his dirk out of its sheath and spun in his chair. Continuing the motion, his arm straightened and his hand released the blade, As Fraser raised his sword to attack, the dirk found its place in his ribcage and stopped him cold, his eyes fixing on Jacob's. Fraser's sword dropped from his hands and then held onto the dirk, falling backwards to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Jacob rose slowly, walked over to the dying man and pulled the dirk from his hands. A small fountain of blood spurted up from the wound and McCauley Fraser passed from this world shortly after. Jacob wiped the blood off on the dead man's tunic and re-sheathed it, before sitting back down and picking up his mug again. He looked at everyone and stopped before drinking, as he looked at James MacRae and the Earl's Captain beside him.

"There was'ne anything tae be done about it, MacRae. It was him or me, so I made it him. He was goin' tae kill me, so he was, ye all saw it." his eyes looking back at each of them, stopping at Andrew MacDougall. "My apologies, MacDougall." Jacob matter-of-factly said to him, then took a long drink of his ale.

Andrew motioned with his hand to the servants to come and dispose of the body outside 

and then to clean the floor after. Two men ran to Fraser's body and lifted it under the arms and legs, then quickly carried it out of the room. Shortly after, one came back with a bucket of water and a course brush, trying to wash away as much of the blood as he could.

"I'm no holding it against ye, Jacob. In fact, I was thinking ye'd be the better Chief tae ha'e at Tioram and that just settled my thoughts wi'out an argument." James relayed to him, stunning him with the announcement.

"Me? Chief of Tioram? Aye, I think that can be done. What of the Fraser's though? They're camped close by and are no going tae be happy I just killed McCauley and took their future seat." Jacob stated, showing he was a thinking man.

"Let me be the one tae tell them, Jacob. There'll no be any retaliation from them, or they'll be back tae picking potatoes and kelp fer the Buchannan's, or worse. As I see it, if their leader was as stupid as that, the rest are no better. What we do need are men tae fight, so they should be good enough tae do that." James assured him. 

The other clan heads sat in silence, considering what had just transpired and the results it produced. "Any objections tae me naming Harlan Douglas as Chief of Camus?" 

When no one made a motion of denial. "I did'ne think so. I'll consider this settled then. Douglas, looks like Castle Camus will be yers tae head. Now, back tae planning this attack, I'm all fer Jacob's idea of getting birlinns, so I'll let ye's use one of mine tae start wi'. Take enough men tae sail as many birlinns ye can get a hold of, but make sure mine comes back and one extra, ye don'ne want me wi'out, do ye?" James told them with his eyes and expression, an assurance of certain retribution, should they fail.

The others looked at James MacRae as their leader more than ever now, knowing he held sway with the Earl of Huntly and possessed the power to place whatever clan he wanted in a castle. James could see it in their eyes that they had submitted themselves to him and his rule, relishing that instant of being powerful and ruling such large numbers of people from his castle. His castle, Eilean Donan, as close to him, as to reach out and touch it, yet still far enough away to make it still a dream. A dream that haunted him in so many ways. His kin dead or held prisoner, his hold on Donan short-lived.

"Now," James continued, focusing more on what needed planning, "We need tae know who we can use fer what. Andrew, yer men are battle ready fer the sea the now, so I want ye heading the attack against their birlinns. The Earl is promising us a gunship, along wi' a number of men, from his halfbrother, in Carlisle. Once we ha'e all the birlinns, we can use his men in the boats yer men get," focusing on Jacob and Harlan, "while yer men row fer all their worth. They may be strong, but they're no soldiers, are they? We'll divide what soldiers we get amongst the weaker boats and the rest tae attack on land."

Harlan accounted for his men in his head, recalling who was fit as a rower and who was a fighter, able to handle a weapon and confirmed to himself his clan was up to the task. His clan, the Douglas', weren't very big, only one hundred and eighty in total, but the number of men fit enough for battle, made their numbers formidable enough to turn the tide of a battle for either side. He could field twenty archers of good aim, at least sixty men who were adept with weapons, such as Claymores, dirks and battle axes. They had twenty horses and a knowledge of battle tactics and that allowed them a semblance of peace to live their lives, without threat of attack. 

"My clan are ready fer battle, James, we hav'ne had more than a year's peace tae get lazy. I can join wi' the Earl's cavalry and troops, adding twenty horses, sixty blades and twenty archers." Harlan stated with assurance that he could back his words.

"Then that leaves us tae where we attack Tioram from on land then. Only easy way intae Tioram is along the Sheil. We'll need tae get all the Earl's men and horses, along wi' yer's 

Harlan, intae Loch Sunart and then Salen Bay. We can travel north and attack from the land side, while our boats attack from the water. Hopefully tha' bloody, big ship of theirs can carry the lot of ye's." James put forth his opinion on transportation of the horses and men.

"We must be on the east side of River Sheil tae approach the castle, James." Harlan mentioned, without thinking the need for an explanation.

J

ames looked at him with confusion and then an understanding he wasn't aware of something. "Why is that, Douglas?"

"There are only two places tae cross the Sheil. One is a small bridge, wide enough for two men abreast tae pass, one horse, the other is at the mouth, just before the rapids, there's a narra gap that's shalla enough so men and horse can cross, but it'll be slow tae cross at either spot." Harlan relayed the facts as he knew them and looked at James.

"What are our best chances then Harlan? How would ye cross?" James asked, testing Harlan's ability to overcome an obstacle in battle strategy.

"I'd have the men cross at the bridge and the horses ride on tae the crossing at the mouth. The men'll be across faster and then march the shorter distance tae the next crossing. The horses'll make it across easier and more at a time as well." Harlan spoke, using his hands to demonstrate the movements of each.

"Then ye'll lead the soldiers across and up, while I command the cavalry. We'll join again at the crossing and reform the lines." James instructed him and went back to pondering the war plan in his head.

Andrew rose and stoked the fire, throwing on another couple of logs to fend off the chilly, late night cold. He looked at the blood stain on the floor, where McCauley Fraser had made a fateful decision. He thought carefully on his own life and what decisions he would have to make and hoped none left him as a stain on a floor, or a battlefield.

Harlan sat drinking his ale, thinking more about personal gain. With MacLean being put in Tioram, and Camus now for him, he realized he knew little of the castle or the area it was in, but he would be the chief and have lands for his people to live on. He weighed his allegiance to MacRae and the Earl against his proposed rule and could see it was worth the chance of losing men in battle to attain this. He would be the first Douglas chief of a seated clan. 

The captain sat quietly, drinking his ale and observing the meeting, taking mental notes to make his report to the Earl in the morning. He could confirm the allegiance of the MacDougall's, the Douglas' and the MacLean's. It was up to how MacRae handled the Fraser's, in letting them know their chief was dead at the hands of a man they would ally with, that had him wondering.

In response to his thoughts, James sat back and told the servants to go and bring back a captain from the Fraser's and have him come to him. The one who had washed the floor turned quickly and was gone before the other started to make a motion.

"Ye, stay here wi' us. We need more ale and food." James shouted to him, halting any further movement from him.

The servant bowed and came to the table to retrieve the empty platter and jugs. Piling them on the platter, he turned and left to get more. Everyone was becoming tenser, the thought of a Fraser coming in and finding a blood-soaked floor, the cause being their leader's death and what they would do as a result.

The servant returned with two jugs of ale and sat them in close reach to the leaders. He hurried away again to the kitchen and was soon back with a section of oxen, potatoes and carrots piled around it. He placed it centrally on the table and bowed, as he backed up, then turned and stood at the door in his position.

Less than an hour later, the other servant re-appeared and ushered in the captain from the Fraser clan. The captain came to the table with a slightly bewildered look on his face, seeing everyone eating and drinking, but his father not among them.

"What's yer name, captain? " MacRae asked him.

"I am Sloan Fraser, eldest son of McCauley. Where is my father?" Sloan asked looking about for him.

"Sit, Sloan Fraser, we need tae discuss some issues wi' ye." Sloan slowly sat in the seat his father had sat in earlier. "The first issue is yer father. He's dead. He attacked Jacob MacLean wi' his sword from behind and Jacob bested him wi' his dirk. We all saw it happen before our eyes." 

Sloan jumped from his chair and put his hand on his dirk, looking for Jacob, as James spoke in a tone of factual indifference, as though telling him his father was slain, was of no consequence.

"Before ye want tae take revenge on Jacob MacLean here," his hand motioning towards Jacob, beside him. "I'll remind ye that all of us are allied together. Yer father was'ne a bright man, that was shown tae us. Tae attack a man in such a cowardly way, showed no spine in the man. Now, I'm hoping ye're a bit smarter than he was. As fer the other issue, I'm still offering allegiance fer yer clan tae join wi' us and gi' ye's lands of yer own." James continued with his offer.

Sloan looked about at the others, studying their eyes and faces. He could see in them the truth of what James MacRae was telling him. He looked down at Jacob beside him, the desire to draw his dirk and thrust it in him, weighing on his mind. The pain of loss sat heavy on Sloan, as he had just entered his twenties and was now a chief, whether he was ready for it or not. His father's body, still warm, was only thirty feet away and ready to set events into motion.

"My father agreed tae join in this allegiance and gain a place fer our clan. As much as I grieve fer his loss, I still feel it is fer the good of our clan tae be a part of it. As I am now the head of our clan, I make that decision fer us. But before I can continue, I must attend tae my father and have him brought tae our people fer burial." Sloan said as bravely as he could, hiding his emotions behind the mask of staid control he wore.

"Aye Sloan, we'll ha'e some men take him back fer ye and in the morrow, ye'll come back and we can talk about the plans fer battle and where ye'll fit in. We're sorry fer yer loss, Sloan, yer father just made a bad choice tae act on." James said as comfortingly, as his feelings could allow. 

Sloan gave a quick bow and turned away, not saying anymore. The same servant who brought him, motioned for him to follow him, which he did. He entered a small storage room and saw his father's lifeless body lain over a table too small to hold him. His appendages hung down over the sides, making a grotesque display of him. Sloan was surprised to see there wasn't a lot of blood on him. The wound must have stopped him and he died quickly, comforting him that he didn't linger in pain, or worse, to have lain there and left to die, as the men in the other room watched and did nothing. He noticed the marks where Jacob had cleaned his dirk off on the tunic and swore revenge for this act to himself.

As Sloan stood looking at his father, two men came up from behind him. Sloan stood to the side and allowed them to pick his father up and carry him outside. They laid him in the back of a cart, making sure he was on well enough, so as not to fall off during the five mile trip back to his camp. He looked at the two MacDougall's who were to drive the cart and told them he would lead it home and have it returned in the morrow. Sloan mounted his horse and took the reins of the horse pulling the cart and at a slow pace, made his way back to camp, allowing his tears to fall and his emotions to come out. The passage between the mountainous ridges echoed his wails and curses into the night sky, as he let out the sorrow of his loss.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 13



His kin heard the sound of him approaching and several men came out to meet him. Their faces taking on a look of disbelief, as they saw McCauley's body, bloodied and lifeless being pulled on a cart.

"What happened tae McCauley, Sloan?" an older member asked first.

"My father was killed fer being foolish and stupid. He attacked Jacob MacLean from behind and was bested by him. No one has said what caused him tae attack, but it was'ne something tae draw a sword about." Sloan relayed what he knew to them.

The men took the body and laid it upon the ground, allowing the women to prepare him for a cremation.

Blain Fraser, McCauley's brother spoke his thoughts on seeing his brother dead. "We'll go now and attack they bastard MacLean's." making everyone shift to respond.

"NO!," Sloan roared out, stopping everyone with the command. "I am now the chief of our clan and I have agreed tae ally wi' the others. It's still in our best interest tae join wi' them and gain lands fer us, despite what happened tae my father. I'm tae see James MacRae in the morning and talk of our place in battle and what we'll have by the end. Any attacks the now, will see us wiped out by the clans. They've all joined as one, so going after Jacob MacLean and his clan, will see us facing close tae a eight hundred men." his words driving a point home, that their one hundred and thirty plus, were no match for almost eight times their number.

Blain gave Sloan a look of disgust at what he had decided and walked away, but the others understood the importance of what Sloan had done for them. Many offered condolences and comforted their new Chief as best they could. Sloan could see the difficulties in leading a clan and felt his stomach churn with mixed emotions of stress and anxiety.

The clan members prepared a pyre and laid McCauley's wrapped body on top. They stood around it and waited for Sloan to take the torch and send his father's soul to heaven. Sloan approached the pyre and took the torch from a male clan member. He stood looking at his father, remembering him as he was, flashes of him passing before his eyes. In a slow movement, he lowered the flames to the oiled kindling. The flames caught quickly and spread around the pyre, engulfing it. He stood back from the growing heat and watched silently, as the flames separated his father, body and soul, then turned away and walked by himself, needing to be with his own thoughts now.

In the castle, the fire was bright enough to be seen in the distance. James MacRae watched the glow light up the blackness of the night over the mountainous ridges and hoped his words were enough to keep young Sloan from being foolhardy like his father. Jacob MacLean stood beside him and watched the man he had slain only hours before, rise in smoke. 

"I'll ha'e tae see how young Sloan handles himself and what control he has o'er his clan. If they can'ne be brought intae line, we may have tae rid ourselves of them." James quietly said to Jacob.

"We could use their numbers, James. They ha'e some good men among them and they can fight, I know." Jacob tried to remind James of their need for strength, but understood his trepidations of bringing in a clan that had just had their leader slain, by him.

"I ha'e my thoughts on young Fraser. He seems a more level-headed man than his father and can hold his own. It's no every man who can stand in a room wi' another man who's just killed his father and no act stupid. He handled himself well enough and still agreed tae join wi' us. I just hope he can keep his lot in line o'er there and come tae me in the morning wi' confirmation he's in control."

Blain saw his nephew sitting on a fallen log, absently stripping leaves and bark from a branch, as he sat and thought. He walked up to him and stood to his side, putting his hand on his shoulder before speaking.

"Sloan, are ye no goin' tae avenge yer father? We can'ne leave it like this." Blain said in a gentle but pressing manner.

"We are uncle, but no until we're in battle. Sit wi' me and listen tae my plan and see if ye 

no agree wi' me." Sloan asked him, his eyes catching the dwindling light from his father's pyre.

Blain sat beside him and gave him his attention. "What d'ye ha'e in mind then?"

Sloan told him of his decision to join with the clans in force, giving them a chance to win lands. How during the course of the battle, Jacob MacLean would meet his end at his hand, along with as many other MacLean's they could dispose of, without being seen killing them, dwindling their numbers and lessening their force. How the end would come and their clan would be taking the seat in a castle and having lands and power.

By the end, Blain could see his nephew had been thinking long and hard on how to effectively get revenge and attain power in the same stroke. His admiration of the mastery in the plan, assured him his nephew would be a good leader of his people and bring prosperity and power to them. He rose and held his hand to Sloan to rise with him. Sloan looked in his eyes and saw the deep love for him and smiled. Blain held his wrist and pulled him strongly into a hug, Sloan returning the affection shown.

Sloan and Blain Fraser returned to the rest of the clan and called them near. Once everyone was seated, Sloan repeated his plan to them and received a rousing cheer in his favour. He stood proudly before them, swearing his oath on his father's pyre behind them, almost out now and knew he had won the loyalty of his clan. Tomorrow he would ride to Dunollie and tell James MacRae his clan was ready to join under him. He would also enquire as to what his clan's share would be, once the battling was over.

 **********

Tavish held the attention of everyone, as he demonstratively related the events leading up to the battle. Argus and Stuart stood with the others, watching him with amusement, until Stuart noticed the time and called for them to return to the yacht. Once again the guests waded into the chilly loch waters and climbed into the dingy to get back on-board. Frick and Frack handed out towels for them to dry their feet and once they were dried off and the dingy secured again, the engines roared to life and the yacht carefully picked its way back through the loch and into the open sea again. 

Dennis headed north along the craggy coast to Mallaig for fuel and fish and chips for the guests, before they headed back along the west coast of Skye for Dunvegan. Tavish stood at the prow railing, leaning back against it, calling for Argus to explain more about the Fraser's and what they did. Argus came up to the bowsprit and stood with Tavish and related the events as he knew them to everyone.



Votes and comments are always welcome, please take a moment to leave one. Ty RJ



Blood of the Clans Ch. 14



As the morning sun rose, Loch Etive became a glow of brilliant gold. The calm waters reflected the beams and made them dance along the surface. Sloan Fraser stood looking at the scene and imagined himself a chief, having a castle and lands held by the Fraser's, something they never had in their clan history. 

He mounted his horse and looked at his clan, some busy preparing meals and others honing weapons or making arrows. He noticed many looking towards him and knew they were putting their lives and hopes in what he could accomplish today with James MacRae. He rode slowly towards his uncle and bent down to him.

"Uncle, watch o'er the clan and make sure everyone is ready fer battle. We'll need tae prove our worth tae them, tae gain a seat. I want our clan tae come out of this wi' a castle, lands and birlinns. The more of us and the less of the MacLean's, will gi' us Tioram, I'm sure of it." Sloan told him, assuring that he would do what he needed to do, to attain their goal.

"I'll ha'e them ready fer blood. We're no that long out a battle the now, so they'll remember quick, what they need tae do." Blain replied, confirming his part in preparation.

Sloan put his hand out to his uncle, who clasped wrists with him and shared a silent moment of bond. Sloan let go and waved to the others, before riding off towards Dunollie Castle with Brennan Fraser following behind him, driving the empty cart with his horse tied behind it. The lands were fertile and rich with life, as Sloan trotted along the valley. A stag bounded up the hills as he approached, but stopped and turned towards him, guarding his doe that stood farther up the hill. 

Sloan couldn't help but feel he and the stag were as one in their thoughts, as he looked at the proud animal watching him carefully as he passed. As they approached the end of the valley, they turned north towards the castle, through another valley and saw the tower of Dunollie a half mile away. The guard recognized him and Sloan rode up to the entrance to the keep, before dismounting. A young boy took his horse to the stable, as he walked into the hall, while Brennan followed the boy with the cart and horse.

James MacRae was looking out at the loch as he came in, while Andrew MacDougall was sitting at the table, picking absently at the wood with the point of his dirk, while the Earl's captain sat farther away. Sloan approached James as he entered the hall, walking with confidence in his stride. He stood beside him and looked out the window with him, before James spoke.

"I want a castle Sloan, I know ye want one as well. We all do. The question is, how badly d'ye want one? Are ye willing tae march under me and obey my command?" James asked, still not looking at him.

"Aye, we'll march wi' ye. I ha'e my clan behind me and we'll fight fer our land. The Fraser's ha'e been wi'out a seat since the clans began and we want one tae call our own." Sloan said to the window in front of him.

James turned to him, hearing him say what he hoped to hear. "Then ye'll ha'e yer seat young Fraser. How d'ye feel about Castle Stalker, as yer seat and dividing their lands wi' the MacDougall's?" James divulged to him.

Sloan remained stoic in his expression, as he heard what was being offered. In his body, his heart beat rapidly with excitement. Stalker was a good castle and the lands the Stewart's held were arable and produced good crops. He would be revered by his clan as a leader who gave them their own lands and a Seat of Power they could be proud of. What had him wondering, was how Stalker had come into play.

"We can fight on land or sea, but we hav'ne any birlinn. We ha'e horses, Claymores, battle axes, arras and knives. We're ready tae prove our worth and fight fer our castle and lands, MacRae." Sloan told him strongly, 

"I can help wi' the birlinn, Sloan. I've offered one of my birlinn fer a raiding party down the coast. MacDougall, Douglas and MacLean are sending men tae round up as many birlinn as they can. MacLean gi'e us the idea, so he's claimed the first two. I lost a birlinn tae the MacDonald's, so I need another one, no tae mention, I'm supplying the birlinn, so I get the next one. MacLean knows of six or seven, so there's one fer each of ye at least. The plan is that we take as many birlinn from the battle and use them, keeping the losses down and gi'en us birlinn tae use, when we're in our castles. Ye keep every one ye take, Sloan." James outlined the plan for acquiring birlinns for everyone.

"So MacLean'll ha'e tae send ten fer his, plus a man fer yours. Douglas and MacDougall ha'e tae send five fer theirs plus two men fer yours and I'll ha'e tae send five of mine, plus two." Sloan counted out loud.

"Don't ferget about the first birlinn yer all sailing, Sloan. Ye'll ha'e tae man that one as well. that one has tae come back. As I told the others, don't lose my birlinns, I'll no be a happy man tae deal wi', if ye do." James told him straightforward and direct, making his point clear what the results would be, if they failed.

"It won't be my men who cause it, if there's a failure. The Fraser's ha'e always been ones tae call upon tae do what needs done. I'll ha'e my men ready fer the night when we go, James. Ye ha'e my word, ye'll ha'e yer birlinn and I'll ha'e mine." Sloan promised him, his tone suggesting stealing was something the Fraser's were well adept at.

James turned and looked down at Sloan squarely. His height and size almost dwarfing the younger man. "If ye make me a promise and swear oath tae it, ye better make sure yer man enough tae carry it out. Are ye man enough, Sloan?" James told him, imposing himself on him, calling him on his pledge.

"Aye, I am, James." Sloan's eyes looked into James', letting him see the depth of his soul and his commitment to his word.

James looked a bit longer into Sloan's eyes, then smiled and put his right hand on Sloan's shoulder. "I see ye got something tae ye, Sloan. It's too bad yer father did'ne ha'e it, or he'd be standing here the now. I'm no going tae lie tae ye Fraser, he could'ne take a wee poke of fun at him and he lost his head. Ye can still see the stain on the floor where he was. Ye know where MacLean was sitting, there," James pointed both areas out as he spoke, "He drew his sword from o'er there and came at MacLean, who just drew his dirk and tossed it at him, as he turned around. I'd ha'e done the same. So would any one of us." he replayed the event told in fact, with no remorse involved.

Sloan looked into MacRae's eyes as he spoke and could see, he wasn't lying. Why his father did it, only he knew that, but it didn't lessen his loss. He tried to find some solace believing he died defending his clan's honour and not his own pride. Sloan finally looked away, not wanting to dwell on his passing, but looking towards a better future for his clan. "He was pierced in his chest, no his back, so it was in defence, Fraser." James ended with, in hopes it solidified any doubts how he was attacked.

Andrew put his dirk away and rose to join them, putting his arm over Sloan's shoulder. "Welcome tae the clan, Sloan. If all goes well, we'll all be Lairds of our castles soon." MacDougall told him confidently, negating the dangers of what they were doing.

"Aye Andrew, that we'll be. But first, we ha'e tae get them from the others, and they'll no just gi'e them tae us, will they?" Sloan replied, letting them know he knew the dangers of what they were doing. 

"No they won't, Sloan. Good tae see yer no thinking this will be easy. I know we'll ha'e losses, but if we plan it out right, they'll lose more than us." James added to the equation. "Are ye ready tae hear the plan?"

"Aye, James. I want tae know what ye ha'e in mind aboot this." Sloan said, more relaxed now that he and his clan were accepted.

James led him and Andrew back over to the table where the captain was and sat. James told Sloan of the Earl's backing and the force they would be putting forth. They discussed how they would be attacking Eilean Donan, Camus, Tioram, and then, eventually taking Castle Stalker from a weakened Stewart clan. His castle, his lands, far down the list and possibly eliminating his clan's chances from too many losses. Sloan didn't show it to them, but he knew they were using him for their plan, his chances of winning anything seemed a far-off chance at best. Still keeping his show of agreement, he shook with each man, before he left and rode back with Brennan to his clan, camped along the coast of Loch Etive.

"What of it, then Sloan?" Blain asked, as Sloan jumped from his horse.

Men came from about the camp to hear what Sloan had to say about the meeting. Once most were there, Sloan looked at them, trying to show no emotion on his face, but staying firm set in his jaw and his gaze.

"Men, we'll go tae battle, but no wi' MacRae. We're nae but fodder tae use fer them. They want tae attack Donan, Knock, Tioram and then Stalker. We're tae get Stalker and divide the lands wi' MacDougall. I know we'll ne'er get Stalker. After being in Dunollie, I can'ne see MacDougall wanting tae stay in it and gi' us Stalker. At best, we'd be left wi' Dunollie and less land than there is now." Sloan relayed what was said and gave his opinions on it. 

The men looked among themselves and vented their outrage at what they thought of it. Blain turned to his nephew and spoke quietly enough, so only Sloan could hear.

"Ye ha'e something in mind, don't ye Sloan? I can see it in yer eyes."

Sloan showed the merest of smiles and a hint of what he was thinking in his eyes. "Men, men," Sloan shouted out to them, finally calming them, "We'll ha'e our castle and our lands, mark my words." Sloan knew he had their attention now, "Listen tae what I ha'e tae say."

Every man hushed and looked at Sloan, his uncle standing beside him in suspense of what he knew would be a surprise turn of events. Taking in a deep breath, Sloan told them of his plan.

"We'll let them ha'e their war. We'll wait until they've killed off each other and ha'e nothing left tae fight wi'. Where will we be? Showing up at the castle of our choice and finishing what they started. We'll be able tae take the castle wi' fresh men and defend it against anyone, once we're inside." 

The men looked at him with the expected confusion he knew they would have. He let out a short derisive laugh and continued. "Men, what castle would ye like tae live in?" Manus Fraser was the first to shout out, "Tioram, it's a bonnie castle, so it is."

Soon, calls for all the castles came out and the men started laughing and enjoying the fun of the moment. Blain looked at his nephew and smiled. He shook his head in disbelief and patted his shoulder.

"Bloody brilliant, Sloan. Yer right. There's no sense in wasting all oor men in battles that get us nothing. After they've done each other in, we can take any one wi' little of a battle. Which one did ye ha'e in mind?"

"Stalker." was all Sloan said, giving his uncle much to wonder why. "Stalker? Why that one? Why not Tioram or Donan?" Blain asked in disagreement of the choice.

"Here's my thinking on this, Uncle. Look at the shite down the coast there." Sloan pointed towards Dunollie, "MacDougall is going tae lose a great many men. The Stewart's ha'e Stalker up there," pointing the other way, "and taken a great deal of MacDougall's lands already, but they've no that many men they can put intae battle. The castle will be left wi' just a few men tae guard it. The Stewart's will lose it and their lands tae us. The MacDougall's will lose just the same. We can hold both wi' our men wi' no problem. Now we ha'e two castles, more land and soon, more men."

"Two castles? Are ye no being a wee bit greedy, Sloan?" Blain said with a stunned look on his face, after hearing Sloan's thoughts.

"Aye. Do ye want someone else living there and no liking us? It'll make for a hard go of things don't ye think?" Sloan queried him.

Blain thought on that and came to the same conclusion to Sloan's thoughts. As he pondered it a bit longer, he came to a point he had to question.

"Now that we ha'e two castles, how do we protect them on the seas?"

"I ha'e tae thank James MacRae fer that. He's supplying us wi' a birlinn tae go raiding fer more. We're tae go wi' MacLean, Douglas and MacDougall and get one fer MacRae, two fer MacLean and MacDougall and the Douglas' and us get one each, or as many as we can get, as I see it." Sloan told him enough to get his interest going and looking for more. 

"Once we ha'e one, who says we can'ne go out again and get another two or three, shite, as many as we can sail. We can attack Stalker wi' them. Attack MacDougall when he returns. We'll ha'e a Seat of Power tae rule from and ha'e clans join wi' us." Sloan explained his thoughts again and had his uncle shaking his head at the audacity of his plan.

"I can see where ye've thought this out, Sloan, but ha'e ye thought about all the other clans that'll be against us? We're no going tae be able tae deal wi' them all."

"Uncle, the clans that are under Stewart, used tae be under MacDougall. They'll be under our rule and be just as happy. The only thing they're looking fer, is a place tae live and food in their guts, just like we are. They'll no oppose us, once we show we're in power." Sloan rebutted his uncle's worries and showed him there was little to worry about.

"That's true. I'm beginning tae think we can do this. Wi' a weaker force fer both of them, we'll be able tae o'erpower the castles, as ye've said. Wi' a mass building of arras, we can attack and defend the castles fer ages." Blain said with smiling confidence in the plan. "Now the question tae know, when?"

"They're still assembling their men and we need tae go get they birlinns yet, so, I don't see an attack starting fer another month or so. The Earl's half-brother in Carlisle is sending a gunship and men, as well as men on horses and foot, so they'll take a bit of time tae arrive as well." Sloan informed him, the time frame making Blain ease in his mind.

"I'll start the men making bows and arras the now. I'll train everyone, e'en the women, tae shoot. We'll ha'e another thirty archers that way and use the men tae scale walls intae the castle. We'll train wi'out swords as well. We'll be able tae send in men unarmed and pick up what's lying about from the fallen and use them." Blain said excitedly, his mind wrapping around the plan and delving into its finer points.

"Once we've taken o'er the castle and the men, we'll strip them of armour and weapons and increase our chances of fending off the clans, once they return. The stronger our defences, the better we'll be at keeping and defending what we take. If we're no tae savage wi' them, they might no want tae battle, but that's just a thought." Sloan outlined more of his thoughts on the plan and could see his uncle accepting and understanding them.

"Sloan, yer going tae make a great leader, so ye are. The Frasers'll ha'e a Seat and lands fer the first time, I can see it. I'm proud of ye Laddie, so I am. Yer father would be tae. I know all the men are willing tae follow yer plan and will stand by ye." Blain said with pride and a glistening in his eyes.

"There's something we still need tae do, Uncle Blain. We need tae figure out how tae do away wi' MacLean. Now that we're no fighting t'gether, we need tae plan a way tae kill him and no get caught doing it. I ha'e no idea on it at all. The only time we'll be close enough, is when we take the birlinns." Sloan voiced his concerns on exacting revenge for his father's death.

"Aye, that bastard MacLean. That'll take some doing then. He'll ha'e men around him always. We'll need tae find a way tae get him alone, or wi' a few men only." Blain opined out loud.

"We'll ha'e tae think this one out well, Uncle. This has tae look like it was no us that did it. James MacRae'll ha'e us wiped out fer sure if he finds out." Sloan confirmed Blain's trepidations, with confirmation of the results of failure in the plan.

The two relatives pondered the problem of killing Jacob MacLean, as they walked back to the camp. Blain gave orders for the men to start making arrows and not stop. The women were put to work making the flights and binding them. Soon, the clans people were busy preparing for battle, whet stones ringing the steel, as the blades were honed to a razor sharpness. Blain had the younger boys and the girls making shields from willow branches, binding two together for thickness and then using bark strips for straps to hold them with. A couple of layers of thick hide were stretched over the face and sewn to the willow, with strips of leather. They would last through a battle and no more, but that was all they needed them to do.

By the end of three days, they had forty shields, three hundred arrows, and every metal weapon was honed to perfection. They had ten crude ladders made of sapling trees with branches as rungs, bound together with bark strips and pine sap. By weeks end, the arrow count was treble that amount. 

Sloan, Blain and two other Fraser's, Brennan and Keith, rode out of Oban and south along the coast, in the early morning of the following week. The sun was glancing its rays off the rippling waters of the sea, dazzling the morning with a brilliant spectacle of nature's beauty. As wondrous as it was to look at, the men were focusing their interests on masts. This was their scouting trip. A three day journey out and back, to find as many birlinns as they could. The first five or six they passed, would have been spotted by the others, so they rejected them for their plan. They wanted to attain four more birlinns to fight with and protect the two castles. By mid-morning, they came to Loch Feochan and wended their way along it, coming across two birlinns, moored together. They took note of them and the surrounding lands, to plan their raid. The far end of the loch garnered them one more, but only six oars were in it. That allowed them the knowledge of their numbers and strength.

Making their way along the coast again, they came to the Isle of Seil and crossed at the smooth stone arch of the Clachan Bridge. If any place would have a good number of birlinns, an island would. They made camp in the shadows of Beinn Mhor, along a burn flowing along the forestland, staying away from the coast and avoiding being spotted. So far, their trek had given them three possible birlinns to attain. Blain and Keith Fraser went out hunting for their meal, coming across rabbits and grouse. After several failed attempts, they ended up with two rabbits and a grouse for each man. It would make for a good meal after their long trek. A patch of wild carrots, onion shoots and rhubarb rounded out the diet for their meal, loading their sporrans with plenty of each.

The meal was as appetizing as the conditions existed, but was seasoned more with talk of how to get the birlinns and what to do with them once they had them. Suddenly showing up with four or five birlinns would be hard to explain away and cause them scrutiny, when they wanted discretion. It would have to be somewhere that prying eyes wouldn't find, nor the owners that they took them from. A safe haven for them had to be found somewhere, until they were ready for them.

The next morning had them going further south until they reached the end of land. Looking across almost seven hundred feet of frigid water, the men and horses were feeling skittish about the thought. Sloan being the leader, took it upon himself to be the first to ride into the water and head across. His horse sank in the water quickly and soon, both were swimming for the other side. The others followed after him and howls were heard, as the water reached the backs of the horses and washed the chilly water over their prides, shrinking them rapidly. They swam, man and beast, for all they were worth, as the current took them along the coast further. One by one, they made it onto the opposite shore and caught their breath. A call went up for a rest and a fire to dry off and warm themselves. They had made it to Luing.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 14



Small, dried branches and leaves made it easy to start a fire, along with a small amount of oil. In minutes, they had it built up so the heat warmed an area five feet away from it. The men stripped naked and wrung out as much water as they could from their kilts and tunics, before using their swords and branches as drying racks. Blain went to his pack, took a small flask from it and after a good swig, passed it around. The men all complimented Blain for being thoughtful enough to bring a tot of whisky, feeling bad they hadn't thought of bringing some as well. Sitting crossed legged and naked around the fire, they continued thinking of where they could hide the birlinns. The area had to be out of sight, but easy enough to get to.

"Everywhere we've been so far, there's no been anywhere we can get tae and hide them." Brennan Fraser spoke out, "what we need is an island, just a wee speck of a thing, wi' some trees and bushes on it, somewhere no one wants tae go."

"Aye Brennan, I was thinking that as well. But where? All the islands around here are large and ha'e people on them." Blain responded to him.

"We've been looking tae closely tae the shore fer birlinn, and no looking out there fer small islands." Sloan said to them, pointing out at the hazy waters of the sea. "Keep a sharp eye if ye see a bump out there. That's all we're looking fer." making a small space between his finger and thumb, to show just how small.

After a good hour of drying, the men re-dressed and broke camp, diminishing their footprint that they had been there. They mounted up and continued along the coast for a couple of miles. In answer to their prayers, the haze broke and no more than six miles off shore, were two, very small islands. They were hard to make out, but they looked ideal for what they needed. A trip out on a birlinn to know for sure, was the next thing to do. They rode all day along the coast looking for birlinns and found three more, another being handed to them to use, in a stroke of luck in the early afternoon.

Five men beached a birlinn on the coast, not more than two hundred yards in front of them. They got out and unloaded hunting gear and supplies, then pulled the birlinn up on shore better. Sloan and his men watched, as they loaded themselves up and started inland, in search of their prey. Giving them some time to gain distance between them, they walked their horses to an area out of view and tied them up, quietly making their way back to the shore. 

A quick scouting of the area showed the birlinn was unguarded and ready for their use. The four raced to it and pushed it back out into the water and jumped in. Raising the sail and setting the oars, they rowed out and into the brisk breeze coming from the south-west. In moments the sail popped loudly, as the wind filled it, the men pulling the oars in, as the wind now carried them along the sea with speed.

"That was'ne so hard, was it?" Sloan said loudly, sitting at the tiller, looking at the men.

"Aye, we'll ha'e enough birlinn in one night tae suit our needs, if they are all like this one.. If this island is what we're hoping fer, we'll ha'e them and under co'er, before anyone knows what we've done." Brennan replied to them.

Smiles were on all their faces, as they sailed west off the coast of Luing, the sea breeze blowing their hair wildly about their faces. They made it across to the bigger island, just west of Scarba and passed the north point, the islands now clearer to see. The islands had a rocky coasts and didn't look suitable for hiding birlinns. They sailed through the narrow channel between the Garvellachs, Sloan working the sail and tiller, everyone looking for a beach and treed area. As they reached the far side, a small bay could be seen on the northerly one. They sailed towards it and to their greatest hopes, the bay had a narrow beach and scrub bush close to shore. They ran the birlinn aground and jumped out to look around. The brush was thick and the land sloped up gradually enough, to make dragging a birlinn easy for the number of men 

"They no come any better than this, Sloan." Keith told him, as he came out from the bush.

"Aye, I think this'll do fer what we need. There's no one about and small enough no one would come here. We'll go around Scarba there, and see if there's any more birlinns tae get." Sloan told them, pointing to the peaks in the near distance.

The men shoved the birlinn back into the water and were soon sailing in tack, to get to the end and turn to come back up. They made it to the southern tip and caught the current and wind at the same time, speeding them up considerably. Not being familiar with the area or the waters, they had no idea what lay just ahead of them. The booming confused them at first, thinking it was cannon fire. It wasn't until they saw the roiling waves in front of them, the booming coming from the massive waves slamming the surface from below. They had just met An Cailleach of Corryvrecken. The tidal whirlpool occurred as the tide came in and the currents slammed into a two hundred foot pinnacle of solid rock, rising from the sea floor. Ancient volcanic activities, shaping the sea bottom, had left a seven hundred foot hole just after it and helped to create an eddy of mammoth proportions. 

In haste, they set oars and rowed hard for the shore, all men pulling on the starboard side. Sloan pushed the tiller hard over, and worked the sail as best he could. The strong draw of the vortex was pulling at them as it grew. The spin took them around once, the craft shifting sideways in the wave. Jumping to port, Sloan pulled on an oar, with all men straining with all their effort, the birlinn slid over the outer ring of the whirlpool and they headed for shore. They continued rowing as hard as they could, until the bow slammed into the rocky shore of Jura. They jumped out and pulled the birlinn up as far as they could and tied it to a strong tree at the shore, then turned to watch the growing maelstrom of water before them. 

They were awed by the roaring booms as it grew, the waters converging and melding into an ever-growing and stronger vortex. Soon the waves were sloshing and curling violently, trying to out-do each other, as it continued to grow. The waves soon reached a height higher then they were standing, measuring them around ten or twelve feet. The men were filled with fear and dread at what they were witnessing. Words of an angry God of the sea must be against them were spoken, or a creature so huge, as to swim in circles waiting for them to enter the waters again. Blain picked up a large branch and threw it as close as he could to the whirlpool. The branch was sucked in closer to the centre and was soon spinning wildly. As it hit the centre, it sank below the surface and was never seen again.

They backed further away from the shore, in fear whatever it was could reach out and grab them. The birlinn rocked savagely on the shore, but held fast with the lines. For two hours the water surged and churned, until the tide eased and soon it was calming down in intensity. The deafening roar diminished and soon all was calm on the waters of the straight.

Not taking chances, the men pushed the birlinn back into the water, but kept it close to shore. They walked it along the water's edge, waiting to see if whatever it was, came back again. Once they rounded the point, everything looked safe enough and Sloan gave the order to sail. The men quickly jumped in and rowed as fast as they could back into the channel, before setting sail and letting the currents carry them northward. The coast of Luing approached them and their tense state eased, as they neared the shore where they had borrowed the boat from. They turned in and beached it, pulling it up as the others had done and quickly left the area, back to where their horses were tied. In five minutes, they reached them and found them quietly grazing on the new grasses around them.

The men mounted up and headed north, passing the birlinn and the hunters, now looking at it, seeing it was further away from where they had left it. Sloan waved to them, the others following suit, as the hunters watched them ride away, a puzzled look on their faces. After a good hour's ride, they reached the cold passage back across to the Isle of Seil. The prospect of another freezing swim didn't sit well with the men this time and the horses sensed it too. They dismounted and walked along the shore, hoping to find the shortest distance.

As Blain traversed the rocky terrain, he lost his balance an fell. It was the sound of hitting solid wood that caught his and the other's attention. Moving aside some scrub brush and branches, a large raft was underneath. A loud howl of happiness went up, as the men knew they weren't swimming and suffering a severe shrinkage of their members again. They uncovered it and dragged it the ten or so feet to the water. It was well enough made, that it could hold two horses and two men at one time. Blain and Keith went over first, using fresh branches as paddles. Keith got off with the horses and Blain paddled back again. The two horses went on and then all three men climbed aboard. The raft sank below the surface, but only by a few inches, as Blain and Brennan paddled with branches, while Sloan held the horses.

They had almost made it across, when one horse shifted and changed the balance of the raft. The raft tilted to one side and soon the men and horses were sliding into the water, the raft shooting out from under them and drifting away. Howls of agony rose from the men as they surfaced, showing their great displeasure at the cold water causing them pain once more. The horses swam out first and Keith got a hold of their reins and held them with the others. He watched as his three kin members pulled their sodden bodies out of the water and stood on the shore, dripping from head to toe, not a happy look on any of them.

Keith laughed heartily at the expense of their discomfort, causing the others insult to their misery. 

"Get him." was all Sloan shouted out and the three grabbed Keith and dragged him to the edge and pushed him in as well. 

The three soaking men laughed heartily at Keith, as he pulled his drenched body from the water. At first he looked mad as hell at them, then joined in the laughter and soon it was all just fun and games for them. Once again they gathered wood and made a fire, stripping naked and wringing out the water from their garments. This time they had a subject to talk about that was still weighing heavy on them.

"What do ye think that really was back there?" Blain asked them, opening the conversation to it.

"I don't know, Blain. But whatever it was, I don'ne want tae see it again. When we hide they birlinn, we'll nae come down that way and come straight back the way we came." Brennan expressed his fears to them, letting it be known he was against facing that again.

"I don'ne think it was some beastie swimming about, looking tae eat us. I don'ne think it was an angry God of the sea either. That was something that happens because of the incoming tides." Sloan told them his thoughts on what it was to him.

"Tides? When ha'e ye e'er seen a tide do that?" Keith replied with astonishment at Sloan's statement.

"Something about the two islands and the tides has tae make it happen. If we went back the now, there'll no be anything but calm water. It makes sense doesn't it?" Sloan said looking at them, daring them to come up with something more plausible.

They looked at him and then amongst themselves, to see if anyone might have something to say. They turned back to Sloan and an agreement of the minds was met. They looked to him for more of an explanation.

"When I was younger, my Grandfather told me about the tides and we used tae sit and watch them. I remember seeing things like that in the water, but no as big as what was back there. Once the tide was in, the swirling stopped and the waters calmed." Sloan related his childhood experiences to them, a realization growing on their faces.

"I remember seeing they things myself, Sloan. Da pointed them out tae me in the burns. Yer right, so ye are." Blain said out, as he remembered his father taking him on walks.

"So that's just a giant one of they things, isn't it?" Sloan reasoned to them, seeing the realization what they had seen, wasn't a sea-creature or an angry God.

They checked the dryness of their clothes and soon had themselves dressed and riding once again. The ride through Seil went easily, reaching the Clachan Bridge in the late afternoon. Crossing back onto the mainland, they made their way to the mouth of Loch Feochan and east to a small place called Kilninver, before making camp. The area was filled with the take of the sea and land, so they bought their meal and ate heartily on a stone wall along the road. A tankard of ale was sought by everyone, so they headed off to an inn, down the road a bit further.

While drinking their ale, the men overheard two villagers talking about a ship being swallowed up in Corryvrecken by the An Cailleach, a week past. They paid attention to what they said about it, learning more about what they faced earlier. Hearing the tale, Blain turned to them and asked what they were talking about. The villager closest to Blain replied, that the whirlpool happens with the incoming tides and has swallowed and wrecked many boats and ships. No one from there sailed in that area, avoiding it completely. 

The news brought faint smiles on the faces of the men, hearing that the island they chose wasn't fished around or used in any way. They thanked the men for the tale and information about the whirlpool and rode back to their camp. The night was just falling, as they pulled their heavy sheepskin cloaks about them and rested for the night.

Rising with the sun, the men were riding back to Oban, before the sun had crested the mountain tops. The four mile ride along the coast of Feochan went quicker now, then crossing the river flowing from Loch Neil that drained into loch, then another five miles through rocky passes north. The way was slow, but filled with talk of the An Cailleach and wanting to know more about it. How they might use it to their advantage in a sea battle later, after taking over Dunollie and Stalker. Nothing seemed to escape Sloan's mind, to work an advantage for them.

The Fraser camp was busy preparing for the day and living their lives, as the men rode back in and began to tell the tales of their journey. The faces of the clan members showing shock and happiness in one instant.

**********

The yacht was pulling into Mallaig harbour, as Argus Stewart finished up that part of the story. The captain eased in slowly to the dock, as Frick and Frack jumped out and pulled on the lines, wrapping them around the pilings and tying-off. Stuart and Tavish led the small contingent of guests into the town and along Davie's Brae to the Cornerstone Restaurant. The group placed their orders and sat having a pint, as they waited for it to be cooked. Stuart stood among them and asked how they liked the story so far.

"I must say, this is a grand way tae tell a story." Mary MacLeod, of Dalmuir, said first. "I think this is fabulous, Uncle Stuart, Uncle Tav and you too, Argus. I've learned so much of our history already. I know Deb is loving it, right Babe?" Tom said to her, his arm around her shoulders. 

"Oh yes. I had no idea of any of this. I think history class would have been far more enjoyable learning about it like this." Deb's face beaming a truly happy smile, completely at ease now, knowing she wasn't held in check by her clan's past.

Everyone expressed their delight at learning their history this way. Tavish called everyone up to get their orders and soon, they were heading back down Davie's Brae to the dock and back on board. Everyone settled into a chair and sat eating their fish and chips, as the yacht pulled out of her berth and sailed slowly back around the point and west to the coast of Skye.

As they rounded the south-west point of Skye, the Point of Sleat, Stuart broke back into the story-telling again.

"Just around the bend from here, there's another story tae tell ye's about. When the MacDonald's of Sleat and our clan were warring. Like they say, there's always a few bad yun's tae spoil things."

Everyone looked from Tavish to Stuart, wondering what happened. 

"Aye, that's true. E'en the MacLeod's ha'e their own problems. One of Stuart's ancestor's did'ne like the way things were going and started their own clan, the MacLeod's of Lewis. Tae this day, they'll no get along, am I right, Stuart?" Tavish asked, knowing it was true.

"Aye that's true, Tav. Maybe we'll ha'e tae ha'e another weekend tae tell that story. It's a shame what happened, but it's all history the now." Stuart confirmed Tavish's telling and prompted those wanting to know the story, to speak up.

He got his expected result and all the guests beseeched him to call for another weekend soon. Stuart smiled at the results, as did Tavish and Argus.

"Then another weekend it is. Now, Duncaith Castle is just up there about nine miles. We'll take another trip around tae show ye and tell ye all the things that happened on Eigg, Rum and Muck." Stuart finished and that soon brought about a few snickers. 

"What's the laugh?" He asked them.

Everyone laughed a little more and Stuart shrugged his shoulders, "I did'ne make up the names,"

Tom stopped laughing and explained the joke, "It just sounds like a really, bad drink. Uncle Stuart. 'Hi, what'll you have?.... I'll have an egg, rum and muck, make it a double'." at that, Tom started laughing again, along with the others.

"Aye, laugh, Muck in Gaelic means pig and pig means small island. So there's something more tae go on about." Tavish shot at them.

Aye, does sound a wee bit vile, doesn't it?" Stuart quipped and laughed along. "Although, after the stories of what went on, ye'll no think it's that much of a laugh, just so ye know." Tavish added on.

The laughter subsided gradually, as they saw the look on Tavish's face, as well as Argus'. " Ye want tae be in on that one, don't ye Stewart, ye heathen beastie, ye. Love a good beaten, so ye do, as long as it's someone else that's getting it." Tavish jested with him.

"Just as much as ye do MacDonald, ye abominable ogre. Off ye go, back tae yer bridge and scare the wee yun's, why don't ye." Argus shot back, topping Tavish.

"Ogre am I, Argus? How about I scare ye?" to which he turned quickly and growled loudly and aggressively, his face taking on an angry scowl, his hands out quick and fingers ready to grab.

Argus re-acted with a start and backed away in fright, making everyone laugh, and after a quick recovery of his composure, Argus did too.

"I'll ogre ye, ye heathen." Tavish snarled and then the big, friendly smile came out and he hugged Argus to him, showing his real affection for the man.

Everyone enjoyed the moment between the friends, then all at once the scenery captivated them again. Cameras were hurried for, to capture the vista of the coast to starboard and the island of Rum, to port. The raw, majestic beauty of them both, thrust together by nature, shaped, smoothed and scarred by the relentless battering of wind and sea. The coast of Skye was graced with the beauty of the Red Cullins and sea stacks, formed from millennia of waves eroding them.

Then to Rum, with the grand, Victorian estate of Kinloch Castle, built in 1900, by George Bullough, situated stately at the kin of Loch Scresort. Everyone shifted from one side of the boat to the other, making sure they took in everything, before it passed.

"So Argus, want tae finish up about Sloan?" Tavish asked him.

"No, that's enough about him the now. Tell us more of what happened tae Lady Therese and Garreth, Stuart. I think the women all fancy him. Am I right, Ladies?" Argus said, questioning them to answer in favour.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 14



The women all smiled and admitted their feelings for Garreth, some re-calling the painting of him in the hall. Even the men were beguiled by him and his deeds. It was easily said, that Garreth MacLeod was the epitome of what a highlander should look and be like. Seeing all the attention being paid to Garreth, Tavish had to interject.

"Are ye trying tae say that Grayson MacDonald was'ne as good as Garreth? Something ye ha'e against redheads?" his eyes peering sharply at everyone.

The women all assured him Grayson was a wonderful man too, just Garreth was more to their liking. Stuart seized the moment to ride Tavish about the statements made.

"There ye go, Tavish. The MacLeod's are better looking than the MacDonald's. Ye'll just ha'e tae face the facts."

Everyone laughed and Tavish stood erect and proud in defiance to them.

"Say what ye like, but there's nae wrong wi' me. There's lots of women fancy me." his boast in hopes of an accord.

"Awww, Tavish, of course we think you're a fine man." Mary MacLeod cooed to him, then several of the women fawned over him playfully, making him smile.

Once the commotion over Tavish faded off, he motioned to Stuart to continue to talk about Therese and Garreth. Stuart couldn't stop smiling, as he watched the fuss over Tavish. Once they calmed down, he stood with Argus and Tavish at the prow and told them about Therese's trip back to France.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 15



Garreth had risen earlier than most, not being able to sleep well. His head was filled with so many thoughts at once about the MacRae raid, the capture and trial of them, then the attraction to Lady Therese and knew he needed to sort it all out. Looking out the window of his room, he could see the morning fog blanketing the lowlands, while the wan, morning sun was breaking through higher up towards Ben Nevis. He pulled on his tunic, then folded and wrapped his kilt around his waist and slung the 'blanket' over his shoulder. Next came his leather belts holding his Claymore and various blades around him. He pulled on his soft, leather boots and tied them to his calves, then finally his sheepskin robe. 

Quietly, he walked past Lady Therese's room and paused, inhaling the faint scent of her. A wanton smile broke across his mouth, as he continued down the stairs, out into the fresh air and on towards the stables He blanketed his horse, slipping in the bit and reins and mounted it, then rode out of the fort and headed east, not wanting to encroach on MacRae lands, only ten miles to the south. 

The splendour of the majestic Beinn caught his attention and he rode off in that direction. The air was crisp and cool, the breaths from his horse and him, creating large puffs, as they exhaled into dawn's light. Finding a narrow pass in the river, he crossed to the north side and on up into the foothills.

An hour later, found Therese dressed in riding attire, walking towards the stables, when Douglas stopped her, still dressed in his morning robes.

"Where are you going Lady Therese, so early in the day?" he questioned her, wondering why she was going for a ride.

"I thought I would take a ride to help clear my thoughts, my Lord. I didn't sleep very well last night, all of these things that are happening and clouding my mind with them, but it seems the day is just as cloudy." Therese emoted in feminine distress. What she failed to include were the heated thoughts of Garreth she was having.

"Well, yes, I can understand, my dear. It is rather a great amount to deal with all at once. Do be careful though, there are those who don't care who you are and will accost you, or worse." Douglas warned her.

"I will be careful, my Lord. I shall not go far from the fort and I will stay to travelled roads, as well." Therese told him decidedly, curtseying slightly and turning to continue her way to the stables.

As she walked away, one of the guards informed him of Garreth leaving earlier for a ride.

Douglas watched her go and said nothing more, as he turned around and headed to the entrance, never looking back. Suspicion grew in him as he thought of the coincidence of it. Therese had one of the Earl's mares saddled and mounted her, feeling her gentle nature and willingness to respond to her. Trotting out to the gate, she tried to decide her route. Once again, the allure of the mighty Ben called out and she too headed off in that direction.

The River Nevis ran down from the mountain, curved along the foothills to the north and then wended its way west to empty into Loch Linnhe, just south of Inverlochy. Therese stayed to the south side and didn't cross over where Garreth had done earlier. The slowly winding road wound its way through wild, tree-lined pastures, reminding her faintly of fields back in France she once rode in. The foggy haze hung in the cooler areas she made her way through, causing her to lose sight of the road ahead in the blankness.

It was riding into a foggy area, which brought Therese face to face with those men, those that Douglas had warned her about. Two men jumped out from the cover they were hiding behind and stopped her, holding onto the reins of the mare to prevent her escape. With the ease of his strength, the large brutish looking one, pulled her from her mount, and held her to him. His unwashed stench sickened Therese and added in her struggle to free herself from him.

Knowing herself in trouble of violation, Therese screamed out in distress, beseeching anyone who heard, to come to her aid. The first man released the reins of the horse and joined his partner, wanting to share in the prize they had captured. Before Therese could release the air in her lungs to scream a third time, his hand clasped over her mouth and held her, while his other tore away her bonnet from her coiffed hair, allowing her inky, black tresses to spill down. With a swift release from the leather belt around his waist, the brutish one brandished a blade at her and tore open the front of her riding dress. Her bared breasts blushed from the shame and embarrassment at their exposure, the pale pink of her nipples brightening, as yellowed teeth sneered and lust filled eyes looked at her with lurid thoughts.

Far up the side of Nevis, perched on an outcropping, Garreth looked out over the land before him, taking in all that was the Highlands. For all the importance of why he was at the castle, Garreth's thoughts were dominated by Therese and how she made him feel. His mind played the scene repeatedly, where he had taken her in his hands and held her, looking into those emerald, green eyes, as she looked into his. His want of her frustrated him, that she was betrothed to the Earl, yet knowingly unhappy with him and he could see it.

While his mind drifted in any direction for a resolve, his ears picked up the sounds of distressed screaming far off in the distance, down in the glen. He scanned the general area he felt it came from, looking for signs of anything moving. Hearing the screaming again, he narrowed his focus to an area across the river from where he was. There between the trees, he could make out the movements of three people. The bright blue of one, suggested a woman was involved, while the other two larger figures in earthen tones, blending in with the background, suggested a male presence and one that wasn't of a pleasant social nature. 

With all haste, Garreth mounted his horse and rode down the steep slope, as quick as his horse's legs could carry him. When the ground levelled, he pushed his horse into full gallop, heading straight for the trio of figures. Even from the far away distance, he could see that the woman was being violated, but couldn't make out any noticeable features as to whom. He pushed for his horse to give all speed, closing rapidly on the scene. As he came to the river, he quickly scanned for a place to cross, but found nothing that was easy. He rode back and turned around, breaking into a fast gallop. He bade his horse to span the river in a leap that would test its abilities and feeling the hooves make the other side, smiled to himself, as he continued riding his steed, as fast as he could push it.

He drew his sword, preparing to attack the moment he could, holding it tightly in his hand, as he readied his arm to swing. He gauged the scene, measuring the timing of his speed and attack. He brought his feet up onto the horse's back, as he broke into the glen, remaining in a crouch. When he was about twenty feet away, Garreth launched himself outwards, his sword high above his head. The speed of the horse was enough, that he flew through the distance, higher than a man standing, preparing for a two-handed blow to the man, who was trying to part the woman's legs in an effort to penetrate her.

As he held himself ready to take her, it was his last moment of cognisant awareness, to see the shadow looming in on him, before the blade of the Claymore began cracking through his skull and severing the back portion of his head away, blood spraying in the arc of the swing. His life force was snuffed immediately, as his body continued to fall with the force of the blow, hitting the ground and causing his brain to spill out of the confinement of bone.

Garreth twisted his body after the strike, so he landed on the ground rolling and then sprang up into an attack position as soon as he stopped. He looked at the man holding 

the woman down and made for him. He covered the dozen feet in quick fashion, leaving the man no time to make a move in defence. He held his Claymore straight out in front, the point aimed for the man's chest, as the last few feet were closed. The tip entered and sliced through cloak and tunic, flesh and bone, driving the man off the woman and pinning him to the ground. Garreth drove the blade completely through and twisted the hilt in a quick turn, severing the heart and killing him instantly. He withdrew his sword, the sound of the organ being slashed, filling the silent air with the wet, sucking sounds of death. 

Garreth looked about for any others who may still lie in wait for him, but feeling there were none, he lay his sword on the damp grass and knelt to the woman. She was curled in a fetal position, clutching what little was left of her pale, blue riding dress, to cover her shame. A thick mass of raven black hair covered her face, but Garreth could hear her jagged breaths, and see her sobbing heaves, as she cried from the terror.

"M'Lady, yer safe now. They'll harm ye no more." Garreth told her calmly, as he gently put a hand to her shoulder.

With a dawning recognition of the voice, Therese held her breath in hopeful chance and moved her hair away from her eyes. She looked up to see Garreth kneeling beside her, a look of concerned worry across his face. In that moment, she hurried to hold him tightly, her arms clamping around his broad chest and craved the security of his arms.

"Lady Therese!" he cried out, as he saw who it was that was holding him. His arms went about her and held her dearly to him.

His bloodied hands, fresh from spelling out highland justice, cupped her head to his chest and held her quivering body to him tightly. In her need to feel the safety of his arms, Therese's dress fell away once more, the torn remnants unable to cover her bared breasts. Savage scratches welled with blood on her porcelain-skinned mounds, the contrast standing out in vivid clarity. 

Garreth paid no mind to the vision before him and showed his caring nature to Therese, now quieting and becoming calmer, knowing she was safe. He stroked the soft, ebony tresses and gently kissed the top of her head, as she held onto him and basked in his strength. Garreth was feeling surer of his feelings now, holding her in his arms made all the difference to his decision. He wanted her as his own. No matter what had transpired moments before his arrival, he knew in his heart steadfast, that he adored the French beauty he held.

As Garreth crouched, he scooped Therese into his arms, her hands finding a place around his neck and holding on to him. He carried her to the river's edge, making his way carefully through the tall grasses and weedy vines underfoot. He placed his sheepskin on the ground and had her lean against a shady oak near the bank of the river. He went to tear a piece of hem from her dress to soak in the water, but stopped after a short tear and looked into her eyes. Through the pooling tears, Garreth could see the shimmering green glowing with fierce emotion in them. In a moment he would remember for his life, he looked into those windows to her soul and saw the feelings Therese held for him. In a single word spoken by her, he knew he felt as deeply for her.

"Garreth..."

Honour and morals be damned, he looked down at Therese's body, at the flushed, white skin of her bared breasts and lusted for her himself. She could see the look in his eyes, desiring her and her heart. The moment of hesitation, as they looked into each other's eyes, charged the air with emotion, then like magnets in bonded attraction, their lips found each other and the bond grew with each breath they drew of each other.

Garreth finally released her, holding her arms firmly, passionately, looking again into the green pools of love for him and smiled. Therese saw how much he felt for her and with 

the horrors drifting away from the moment in her mind, she smiled back, at once confirming her hidden desires to give her heart to a man like him. 

"May I tear a piece of yer dress, M'Lady, so I can dampen it? We need tae take care of those scratches." Garreth asked, pointing with his eyes as he spoke.

Therese once again became aware of the burning pain in her tender flesh and nodded to him, her eyes allowing him the permission he sought. He tore a strip away and soaked it in the cold, mountain water. He came back and handed it to Therese, then turned his head, as she applied it to the wounds. The chilly water immediately brought an erect state to her nipples and a gasp from her lips at the shock. Lightly she continued to dab at the swelling streaks, calming the burning pain in them.

"Were ye..." Garreth blurted, unable to find the words to ask her.

"No, I was spared that disgrace, my thanks to you, M'Laird, for coming to my rescue. Would you please soak the cloth for me again, I must tend to the other scratches that man inflicted." 

Garreth understood, a sigh escaping from his lips in relief and took the swatch of cloth back down to the river and soaked it again. He handed it to Therese and turned to face the river again, as she raised the hem of her dress up her legs. Scarlet streaks ran along her thighs, where the attacker had clawed at her undergarments to get her bared to him. 

She dabbed at the wounds, but her eyes were on the back of Garreth, taking him in, in every detail. She looked at his long, dark, brown hair, draped over his shoulders and trailing down his back. Several braids were weaved into his hair, knotted with coloured beads at the ends. His broad shoulders bore the weight of his sash and weapons, his tunic clinging to the muscled structure of his body underneath. Her eyes kept trailing down to his kilt, his legs slightly akimbo, showing the strength in them. 

As much as she tended to the burning of her scratches, she felt the burning heat of desire sweep through her loins and a need to have that fire quelled with his touch. She finished cleaning herself and lowered the hem back down, wishing in part that Garreth would turn around and look at her.

"I am covered again for you to look, M'Laird." She told him, still shifting the tatters about to resemble something of decency to look at.

Garreth turned and came back to her, sitting beside her and put his arm around her in comfort. Therese accepted the offer of closeness and shifted closer, snuggling into him and enjoying his presence about her. They sat for a while, just looking at the calm of the river flowing past, enjoying the moment of togetherness they were feeling. Therese turned her face up towards Garreth's, as he looked out. Noticing her face turned to his, he looked to her, their eyes meeting once more. With no need for a word to acknowledge their feelings, Therese's hand came to Garreth's face, as her lips pouted their need for attentive recognition. Garreth understood their meaning and moved towards her, his lips finding hers and a blaze of passion roared between them.

The rest of the world vanished about them, as they found the joys of bliss in each other's arms. Their lips bound their hearts in their new love and their hands confirmed that belief. Garreth pulled back, breathing hard in lusted exhilaration and looked at Therese. He could see in her eyes that she loved him, as he felt his love for her. It was her betrothal to Douglas Gordon that now stood between them. She searched his eyes, looking for a cause for his concerned look.

"My Laird Garreth, what troubles you my love?"

Garreth found it hard to express his feelings for her, unsure of the words to say. He flustered each time he started to speak, adding to his discomfort. Therese reached up and caressed his face softly, looking into his eyes.

"Tell me what troubles your heart; I can see in your eyes that you struggle with something in it."

Garreth took Therese's hands in his, looking into her eyes briefly, before turning them away as he spoke.

"Lady Therese, I'm torn in want of ye, yet know it is wrong of me. Yer betrothed tae his Lordship, I am dishonouring ye and the vows ye wish tae undertake. I was'ne raised tae do that, yet I wish wi' all my heart that I could."

Therese could see the torment on his face and feel it in his touch, as he held her hands. Her face belied the sympathies she felt for him, as she smiled at him, the love in her heart shining in her eyes.

"Le désir de mon couer, I see the troubles in your eyes and I will take them all away. I must confess my heart to you, so you know where my feelings lie. There is much in my life that you do not know about, some very troubling things, but they have come to pass. I am leaving tomorrow for France to attend the Royal court for a trial..." 

Therese explained everything that had happened to her, up until that point in time that they now sat. It was her telling him how she was planning on leaving Scotland and never returning to marry Douglas that caused a look of distress to come over Garreth's face.

"My Laird, what saddens you now?"

Garreth choked down the lump in his throat to speak, the thought of her leaving causing him to feel great longing already.

"As happy as I would be, that ye did'ne marry the Earl, it would sadden my heart greatly tae ne'er see ye again."

A well of tears rose in Therese's eyes upon hearing his words of longing, seeing the forlorned look of despair at what he was thinking and took his right hand in both of hers. She held it to her lips and kissed it lightly, her lips remaining for a moment.

"My sweet Laird, what is it in your heart you wish to say?"

Therese told him in soft yearning, looking into his eyes, pleading with them to share what they held. Garreth struggled with his thoughts and Therese knew he had trouble relaying his feelings to her. He looked into her eyes, a beseeching look for help from her, to calm his impassioned turmoil.

"Garreth, do you feel in your heart for me, what I feel for you?"

Therese gave him a lead to follow, hoping it gave him a way to share what he felt, letting him know his feelings were shared with her.

"I feel in my heart, nothing like I ha'e felt before. The moment I saw ye and held ye, I looked intae yer eyes and I knew then, that I wanted tae look intae them always, fere'er. I've thought of nothing but ye, since that time. Nothing would make me happier; than tae know I could do that."

Garreth's words brought a glow to Therese's face, knowing he shared her feelings. She squeezed his hand tighter in hers, as she drew in a comforting breath.

"Mon Cherie, I share the same feelings in my heart, as well." Therese placed his hand against her breast, over her heart and lightly pressed against it. 

Garreth felt his heart bloom with emotion at the feel of her soft bosom and the look of love on Therese's face. For all his strength, he felt helpless at being unable to express what was in his heart. 

"I know what I feel in my heart, but it has gi'en me no words tae speak of it."

Therese knew what he wanted to say, knowing as much from her training as a Lady, that she should wait for the man to relate his feelings for her first, but the moment to share those words was upon them and she was eager to hear him speak them to her.

"If they are the same words my heart knows, they are I love you, for I do. As with you, 

mon doux, I felt the same when we touched and looked at each other, wishing nothing more from that moment, but to be with you always. My heart was yours and I knew it. I was so saddened to think that I could love you so much and yet have it wasted, knowing it could never be expressed to you."

Garreth's torment vanished like the foggy haze of earlier. He smiled softly, knowing his feelings were well met by Therese and she shared the same.

"I do love ye, Therese. My heart is happier already just fer saying it. I've ne'er felt such happiness."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 15



Garreth wrapped his arms around Therese and pulled her to him. She took his face in her palms and soon their lips were sealing the bond of love their hearts were in ache of sharing. When their passions subsided enough for them to break apart, it was Garreth who made mention of what was to happen now.

"Ye say yer leaving t'morrow? How long will ye be away? I can'ne stand the thought that yer leaving, now that I've found ye."

Therese could see the frantic state he was getting into and carefully unhooked the small gold cross from around her neck. She slipped the ends under his hair and clasped the ends together again behind his neck. She looked at it sitting on his chest and gently placed her hand over it, before looking up and into his eyes once more.

"Garreth, please wear this and remember me. It was given to me by my father, when I was six years old and I have always worn it since. It is all I have left in this world of him and my mother. Touch it and you will know my love for you."

Garreth's face turned to one of joy and brightened with a smile. He placed his hand over hers and held it to him tightly, as he looked deeply into her eyes.

"I shall Therese. I shall touch it often. I'll always keep it close tae my heart, where it belongs."

Garreth held the cross in his fingers and kissed it lovingly, before tucking it under his tunic and hiding it. He slid his fingers through her silky hair and pulled her to him, showing her the love in his heart through his kiss.

It seemed like a lifetime passed, before they rose and walked hand in hand through the grass, back to where they started. The lifeless bodies were abuzz with flies, as they neared and Garreth shielded Therese's vision from seeing it. They walked to where Garreth had laid his sword down and he retrieved it, before calling for his horse with a shrill whistle and a short whoop.

The dark, brown stallion came at a canter, upon hearing the call from Garreth. Therese marvelled at the act and Garreth smiled happily at his feat. He slung his leg over its back and as Therese held the front of her garment to her in modesty, Garreth leaned over the side and kissed her once more, before riding off to look for the mare. He found her grazing a short distance ahead, the tender shoots of new grasses keeping her attentive and happy. He collected her reins and trotted back to Therese with her. 

She looked at her horse and then to Garreth and without a word between them, he knew what she preferred. He leaned over far, so Therese could put her hands around his neck, while he wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She took a moment to look in his eyes, before she kissed him quickly and then laid her head on his shoulder.

Garreth rode off slowly, the reins of his horse and the mare's in one hand, the delicate waist of Therese in the other. She kept hold of him tightly, as they made their way back along the road towards the castle, coming to the spot where Garreth had crossed. He stopped his horse and Therese looked to him.

"The castle is just o'er there. I wanted one last chance tae kiss ye, before ye leave fer France. We'll no get another chance."

Therese knew the truth in his words. Once past this point, her life would take on yet another twist and add to the addled state Fate had made of her life. She would have to play out the remaining hours of the day and once aboard ship, she would be sailing away from a misery she once dreaded and on towards the start of her new life. One she believed to be as the wife of Laird Garreth MacLeod, as Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. Her heart bloomed with happy bursts of joy at each knowing thought she imagined, realizing that they would be the reality of her life.

Without a word to him, Therese shared all that she was feeling in the way she kissed him. Garreth was stunned by the outward display of emotion, but soon accepted it and returned his own feelings to her. They held each other tightly, their lips finding as much purchase in their touch as they could, as they shared a final moment together. In reluctance, they broke apart, the love still sparking in their eyes, as they looked at each other.

In a dawning realization, Garreth thought of something and reached into his small satchel around his waist. Digging in with his fingers, he pulled out a rounded piece of stone, rough on one side and smooth on the other, an intricately carved bull's head etched into it, the Luck of Dunvegan. He held Therese's hand and placed it in her palm, so she could look at the carving. She held it in her fingers and brought it closer to see the crafting in it.

"I wish ye tae keep this stone in remembrance of me, Therese and my love fer ye. It was a piece of the cornerstone of Dunvegan Castle carved wi' our clan symbol, by my great elder, Malcolm, when he had the keep built around two hundred and fifty years ago. It's been handed down tae each Chief fer good luck tae follow him and protect him from harm. Keep this close tae yer heart Therese and I will be wi' ye."

Therese looked about her for a place to keep the precious stone. With her dress torn away, the only place she could think to put it safety, was inside the calf of her riding boot. Hiking up her hem, she bared her leg to Garreth, who took in a gasp at seeing her flesh. Therese carefully pushed the stone down the inside, until it was resting well down in her boot. She saw the look in Garreth's eyes, upon seeing her leg and decided in all of the moment, to raise it a slight bit more, and showed him a good bit of her thigh.

She let out a giggle at seeing the flush come over him, happy his lustful desires for her were so plain to see on him. She tossed the hem down and continued the motion slowly to wrap her hands around his neck and kiss him with all her love and happiness. Garreth returned his with fervour, sparked now with passionate heat stirring in him. In great reluctance, they finally parted, their eyes still locked in rapture.

With a saddening at stopping the joining of their love, Garreth urged his horse forward and they proceeded to the castle. Riding through the gate, he shouted out to the soldiers to run and get the Earl, to inform him Lady Therese was attacked. One soldier turned and ran with all haste into the main building. In moments, Douglas was out and looking for where Therese was, as Garreth was letting her down gently, into the arms of a soldier, as he strided up quickly.

"My Lady, are you in need of aid? Are you hurt? I'll send for the surgeon right away." 

His concern almost made Therese laugh, knowing in her heart, it was more for show than actual caring. One thing she had come to know about the Earl in her stay, was that he was selfish and arrogant. He cared little, or not at all, for others and she had witnessed first-hand how he was.

"I am well My Lord, save for a few scratches that will take a while to heal. I owe my life to Laird Garreth for coming to my rescue. If it were not for his brave deeds, I fear I would not be here before you. I was attacked by two men, as you said might happen and was nearly taken of my chastity."

Therese explained it all with a high degree of emotion, allowing the dire situation to set into his mind. Douglas looked at Garreth with suspicion.

"Is this true, Laird MacLeod? Did you defend Lady Therese from these attackers she mentions?"

Garreth looked directly into Douglas' eyes and related what he did.

"Ha'e yer men go along the south road of the river, three miles from the crossing. They'll find one man wi' half his head and another wi'out a heart. I heard the screams of Lady Therese, while I was riding in the foothills. I saw the men attacking her and rode down tae take them off her."

Douglas took the suspicion from his eyes and looked back at Therese, still clutching the tatters to her modesty.

"My Dear, we must get you inside and tend to you. Come along and you can get a change of clothes and have the surgeon look at those scratches."

The crimson streaks stood out in sharp contrast against her milky-white skin, a couple seeping droplets of blood. Therese followed Douglas towards the main house then stopped and turned back.

"Laird Garreth, I wish to see you later and thank you properly, for your honourable deeds. Let me tend to these scratches and re-dress, then I will come to you and thank you."

Garreth put his hand on his heart, holding the cross to him and bowed to her, then rose again, seeing the smile on her face and the look in her eyes. He stayed himself from smiling too much and giving more away than need be. Therese turned and re-joined Douglas, taking his offered hand, as they walked into the house.

Grayson came running from the main house, where he had been eating, his face worried for his friend. He saw Douglas and Therese coming towards him and bowed, before passing them and reaching Garreth.

"What's happened, Garreth?" his concern lessening, as he looked him over and saw no wounds to him.

"Two men attacked Lady Therese while she was out riding. I heard her screams from higher up in the hills and rescued her. They were nearly ready tae violate her chastity, they were. I rode up and jumped off my horse's back and I was fairly near flying, as I came at the first one. I swung and thought I missed, but I caught the back of his head and took it off. His brain fell out as he hit the groond, so it did. I was up and at the other one, before he e'en had a chance tae move. I ran my sword threw him and took out his heart. Did'ne take but a couple of minutes and it was o'er."

Grayson stood spellbound listening to the description of the skirmish. Once Garreth finished, he had to ask him the question.

"Did they hurt Lady Therese?" Grayson's face in dire need of the right answer

"No more than the scratches ye seen on her, but they very nearly had her. It was luck that I was there. Looking at the type of men they were, they'd of killed her, after they were finished defiling her."

Garreth's face set the tone for the truth in his words. Grayson looked at him and shook his head.

"What were ye doin' out riding, anyway?" 

Garreth's smile grew wide and very happy, as he put his arm over Grayson's shoulders and walked back to their rooms, telling of what happened afterwards and what was now in play between them. Grayson stopped dead on the staircase and looked at Garreth with stunned shock at what he heard. He pulled Garreth's arm back, turning him towards him.

"Yer no serious, Garreth? Ye did'ne go and fall in love wi' that Lass? Tell me ye ha'e more sense than that." Grayson asked, but saw for himself that everything Garreth had said was true.

The smile on Garreth's face was as sure as the feelings in his heart. He looked about for signs of others, as they stood between floors and pulled out the cross Therese had given him. He told her he had given her his lucky talisman and Grayson looked at him incredulously.

"No, ye did'ne gi' her that? Yer father handed that tae ye, no long before he died. It's no supposed tae leave yer possession, till ye hand it tae the next MacLeod Chieftain. Are ye looking tae ha'e bad tidings happen tae ye?"

Grayson's words made an impact on Garreth, reminding him how his own father had left it behind the day he went into battle and came back mortally wounded, before handing it to him and warning him to keep it with him always for protection. In his mind, he could still see his father lying there, putting the stone in his hand and telling him of it, before his eyes closed, his hand still wrapped around Garreth's, his last breath issuing from his lungs.

"I understand yer worries, Grayson. I know what that stone means tae me and my Clan. I've no forgotten what happened tae my father, but I wear the luck of Therese's cross around my neck now and she has the luck of my Clan talisman. We'll gi' them back, once we see each other again, so stop yer worryin', ye sound more like yer sister everyday, I swear tae Christ Almighty, ye do." 

Garreth slung his arm over Grayson's shoulder and laughed, pulling him up the rest of the stairs towards their rooms. Grayson remained more stoic and less jubilant about the news. He had bad feelings about the whole affair from the beginning and this was just making matters worse. 

After the surgeon checked Therese out and made sure she was okay, applying a tinctured ointment to the scratches, she set about finishing what needed to be done before her departure the following day. Sitting at her writing desk, she wrote two letters and folded them, sealing them with her blue wax seal, addressing them, and holding them in each of her hands.

In the left, a letter to Douglas, stating her intentions to leave and remain in France to see to her Chateau and estate. She regretted any inconvenience that this may cause him, but wished him well in his position and future prospects, signing it now with her new title, Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson.

In her right, a letter to her love, Garreth. A collection of every heart-felt word she imagined, expressing her love for him. She gave directions to her chateau and an invitation to join her there. She gave her word and heart, that she was his alone and would wait for him. She took the opportunity to ask the question that had burned in her since their arrival. Did he know Arabella MacDonald of Tioram? If he did, could he please get word to her of what has happened and to write to her.

She dropped the letter in her left hand on the desk, its address completing anything more she had to do with it. She looked at the name on the one in her right and felt her heart swoon with passion, knowing her words inside would soon find a heart such as hers and adore them.

She got up and locked the door to her room, before unlacing her boots and retrieving the stone pressed tightly against her calf. She slid the boots off and rubbed her calf where the stone had been, noticing the impression of a bull's head imprinted in the skin. She smiled at the thought of being imprinted with Garreth's love and with great care, used her pen to carefully trace the outline on her skin. She fanned the ink dry and then took her hand mirror and looked at it sitting on her leg, the same leg Garreth had gazed upon earlier. The passion bloomed in her loins at how he made her feel, wanting to do nothing more, than be with him always.

Therese re-dressed and set about packing everything left in the trunk for her journey, the rest already stowed aboard ship. She picked up the letter to Garreth and opened the top buttons on her high-collared bodice, sliding the letter between the satiny material and the silkiness of her skin over her heart, before closing them again. She took the other one for Douglas and put it in a small bag she carried, before calling for the servants to collect the rest of her things and have them taken aboard ship. She had planned on seeing Garreth before she left, in some way getting him alone and giving him the letter and a final kiss farewell, one that left a burning in his heart, as she felt for him. Once aboard ship, she would send the other letter before they sailed, so the Earl would read it long after she was gone, hoping he would let her go in peace.

Once everything was removed, she took one last look around, quietly thanking herself it would be her last time. She closed the door and walked down the hall to where Garreth and Grayson had adjoining rooms. She rapped lightly on the door and hoped he was inside, granting her the private moment she desired with him. Garreth opened the door and felt his heart flutter at seeing Therese standing there. He felt dumbstruck for words at what to say, knowing Grayson was just behind him.

"Lady Therese. A pleasure tae see ye once again. How are ye feeling now?" he said, shifting his eyes to let her know he wasn't alone.

"A pleasure to see you too, M'Laird. I am much better, thank you. May I have a word with you?" A big smile came across her face, as she motioned for him to come into the hall.

Garreth looked back over his shoulder at Grayson sitting on the chair by the window, then turned back and led Therese out into the hall. Therese looked into his eyes and took his hands, quickly looking down the hallway.

"I wanted to see you once more before I left for the ship. I have something I wish to give to you."

Therese looked down at her bosom and started to undo the buttons, exposing the cleavage of her breasts. She could hear the gasp from Garreth and looked up at him smiling coyly. She reached in and retrieved the letter, handing it to him delicately, before closing the exposure to her femininity.

"Read this after I have left, dear Garreth. Mon coeur vous attend en Trecesson."

With that, Therese leaned forward, offering up her lips to him. Garreth took hold of her and met her lips with his, enjoying once more the joy in his heart and the stir in his loins. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, broke them apart, but still joined in passion with their eyes. Douglas rounded the corner and was upon the scene as it stood. He spoke as he walked the hall towards them.

"Lady Therese, I see you are packed and ready to sail at first light. Laird Garreth, thank you again for your help in rescuing her. My men have returned and described just what you have said. I commend you on your bravery." Douglas said, failing to mention the two men found, were members of the MacRae clan.

Both of them swallowed their lust and calmed themselves as quick as they could, as Douglas approached. Both put on smiles, brighter than need be, Garreth keeping the letter hidden at his side, as they watched the Earl walk up to them.

"It was my honour tae come tae her aid, M'Lord Earl."

Garreth looked back at Therese and smiled a more natural smile at her. Therese's softened as well, as their eyes flashed a spark of passion between them, before she looked back at Douglas.

"Yes my Lord. I have everything ready and I was just on my way to the village to purchase some things to take back with me. There are some foods I have grown fond of eating, that we don't have back in France. I also wanted to thank Laird Garreth once again as I said, for saving my life and my dignity. Now that I am over the shock, I can thank him properly."

Therese turned back to Garreth and looked into his eyes deeply one last time. Kissing her fingertips, she placed them on the cross over his heart, lightly touching him, a show of affection Douglas noticed with interest.

"Laird Garreth, I owe you my life and my eternal gratitude for what you have done for me. I can never thank you enough, or show you in any way, how much it means to me."

Garreth closed his eyes and bowed his head slowly to her.

"The honour is mine, M'Lady, tae know that ye are safe and well."

In a final moment of connection, Therese kissed Garreth's cheek and placed her palm over it afterwards, wanting the connection to last foever. Therese was hesitant in wanting to take her hand away, but did and held them to her sides. She bowed her head with a curtsey in return, then turned to join Douglas, an inquisitive look on his face and allowed him to escort her out. She ached once again, not being able to ask Garreth if he knew Arabella. It was her hope now that her letter would bring her news of her time in Scotland and her desire to see her.

Garreth watched her walk with Douglas and turn to go down the stairs, her head turning one last time to look at him, before vanishing from his life. The pain was as sharp as a dirk in his heart, feeling for the first time, the pains of love divided. He held the letter up and looked at the graceful calligraphy of Therese's writing, then smelled the essence of her on the paper.

Grayson opened the door, after hearing all the voices and saw Garreth standing awash in the glow of love, smelling the fragrance from the letter.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 15



"Get yerself in here, ye fool. Standing there all daft looking." Grayson chastened him in hushed tones.

Garreth went back into the room, looking at the letter in his hand, studying the seal and her writing again. Grayson closed the door behind him and looked at what Garreth was holding.

"She wrote ye a letter? Are ye going tae open it then?"

"She told me I had tae wait 'til the morrow tae open it, after she's sailed. I don't know why, but that's what she said."

Garreth put the letter in his pouch and sat by the window, looking out to where Therese might be, hoping his thoughts could reach her. Grayson looked at his friend and felt a happiness in his friend's love for her, but a shroud of uncertainty hung over his thoughts, as to what had transpired and what was yet to come because of it.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 16



The morning glow of sunshine washed the deck in orange hues, as men prepared the ship to leave port. Therese looked for a guard or soldier to give her last letter to and spotted a soldier on patrol, coming up the pier and called out to him. The soldier recognized who she was and made haste to the gangway, before it was raised. He stood in front of her at attention and waited for her direction.

"I want you to give this letter to the Earl, no one else. Make sure that he gets it, after, I have left." her emphasis on after, being stressed to him.

The soldier took the letter and held onto it, before bowing quickly and rushing off the ship, as the gangway was ready to be released. He stood on the pier and watched the ship move slowly out into the harbour, before the sails were raised and the ship moved under the power of wind, onto its destination.

The soldier walked back through the village, stopping every now and then to talk to people, or chastise young miscreants up to no good stealing fruit and bread from the vendors. It was late morning, when the soldier walked through the gate and proceeded to the Earl's office. He was told to wait until the Earl was finished with his business, so he departed again, to attend to other matters.

It was closer to mid-day when the Earl called out for first entry, rolling up maps and charters and storing them safely in his desk. The soldier approached and stopped before Douglas, bowing in respect and handed him the letter.

"It's from Lady Therese, M'Lord. She instructed me to bring it tae ye after she sailed."

Douglas shooed him away, as he smiled, looking at his name in her handwriting. Once the door closed, he broke the wax seal and opened the folds. He puffed out his chest expecting to see flowery words of love to him, instead reading the first paragraph and standing in shocked horror at her words. By the time he finished, he was in a petulant frenzy, storming about the room, denying her words and demanding justice. She was his, she signed a contract with him saying so and letter be damned, he was going to have her.

The ship was well around the point on Islay and sailing down the Irish Sea, as Therese stood on the foredeck and looked out, there in the distance, much too far to ever see yet, was her home and freedom, filling her with hope and happiness, as she drew nearer to it. Her heart also wept for a sadness, as every mile she sailed closer to home, she sailed a mile further away from the love she held in her heart. She turned back to the fading coast of Scotland, wondering where Arabella could be, amongst the continuous mountains and lochs, never knowing how close she was, the entire time she was there.

She steeled her heart and knew she had to be strong and use all her abilities to run the chateau and the estate. She closed her eyes and imagined driving up in a carriage, the sun shining brightly off the stone face, the gate open and once again calling Trecesson home.

After Garreth awoke, the first thing after dressing and relieving himself in the bed pot, was to look at the cross around his neck and kiss it, then he pulled the letter from Therese out of his pouch and cracked the seal. The scent of her flooded his senses, as he unfolded it. The more words he read, the bigger his smile became, as his feelings for her were confirmed by her words for him. He was fairly singing in happiness and then came across her final request. His face was one of surprise at seeing that Therese and Arabella were friends, then all at once, feeling he should have read this before she left. Not once did he put the Therese he had met, with the one told of by Arabella.

He left his room and loudly knocked on Grayson's door, next to his. A groggy, dishevelled Grayson opened the door with just his kilt on, hastily wrapped and nearly threatening to expose himself.

"What is it Garreth? The bloody sun's barely e'en up. Och, I see why." Grayson said grumpily at being woken, then spying the letter in Garreth's hand.

"Och, it was time ye were up any way, ye great, horrible hungus. It's no what it says tae me, I came wi' it. Listen tae this, ' I have one request that I must ask of you, Garreth, my love,' " to which Grayson gave a derisive snicker, Garreth showing a face of disdain at his reaction, then continued. " I wish to know if Laird Grayson, is of a relation to Arabella of Castle Tioram. It is my most heart-felt hope to contact her.' and the rest ye don't need tae hear." Garreth finished off, smiling again, at what he knew it said.

"She knows my sister, Arabella? Why did she no say something while she was here? We're no e'en thirty miles from Tioram. Arabella could'e been here in a morning's ride tae see her." Grayson said more alertly, after hearing what it was.

Grayson looked at Garreth with suspicious thoughts in his mind, his eyes and face showing the wheels turning inside.

"That wee poof of a man doonstairs knows full well, Arabella is my sister. I'm sure Lady Therese would ha'e asked when she got here, if he knew her, or not. I know how close those two are. Di' ye remember the way she went on about her when she got back. E'en wi' Logan and her engaged, she talked bloody endlessly about the two of them this and the two of them that. Arabella would ha'e been the first one she'd of wanted tae contact after landing. So why did'ne Douglas let her know? Something's no right, Garreth." Grayson's eyes were no longer sleepy, but alert and a smouldering dislike growing in them.

Grayson's words sank into Garreth and he weighed each one with countenance. Why didn't the Earl allow her contact? Why has he been acting so nonchalant about the entire MacRae raid? Why hasn't anything been done in the investigation? Too many things started to come to the fore and shed a bad light on Douglas.

"I think we'll need tae a pay a wee visit tae Douglas and find out about a few things. There's tae many questions that hav'ne been answered and it's about time they were. Don't ye think?" Garreth asked Grayson, in their bantered talk, knowing the same thoughts were in his head as well.

"Aye, let's get a meal intae us first and then we'll go and see that wee fart." Grayson told him and started to dress properly.

"Is that all ye can think of, is food? No wonder yer the size ye are. I'm starting tae think I'll ha'e tae keep the cow's under watch while yer around, just in case ye feel a bit peckish and need a nosh." Garreth's jesting set the rage in motion in Grayson.

"I need tae eat, ye wee twig of a man. What are ye, fourteen, maybe fifteen stone? I'm nearly 19 stone, so ye can'ne look this good and be this strong, if ye don't." Grayson's reply stabbing back at Garreth, as he finished putting on his sash and belts. He picked up his Claymore and ran his hand down the blade, looking at Garreth with a mocking meanness, before sheathing it. He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of flaming red hair and smiled. 

"Save that face fer when ye'll need it. I'm getting my feelings about all of this, and it's no good. I've had this in my head since we've come here and I can'ne shake it."

Garreth's look took a more serious intent as he spoke and Grayson understood his meaning, things hadn't added up right from the beginning with the Earl, for both of them. 

Douglas paced his office in countless patterns, changing it each time he had another thought. He looked at his map of Europe hanging on the wall behind his desk, focusing on France. He walked towards it, looking back and forth between Inverlochy and Chateau de Trecesson, a white pin, denoting its location. He could think of no other thought than to just go there and take her back. If anyone protested, he had a signed contract of marriage and was only bringing his betrothed back with him to wed her. He was well within his rights and the letter of the law that ruled his land backed him. She was his, Douglas smiled. He picked up the paper signed by Lady Yvette de Trecesson and himself and smiled broader.

As Garreth and Grayson ate oatcakes and slices of fatty bacon and eggs, they discussed how they were going to handle things with Douglas later. They had so many issues to deal with, all of them important, but far apart in context to deal with as a whole. The MacDonnell's, the MacRae's, the investigation and trial, the charters of their castles coming into question and what did Douglas Gordon, fourth Earl of Huntly, have to do with all of it?

Seeing too many of the Earl's men about them, they finished eating and headed to the stables. They wanted to talk more in depth and openly, forming a united plan of attack between them, as they rode away on horseback from the castle and out into the hills.

At Castle Tioram, life had returned to a normal routine of life, the crofters bringing in their taxes, in crops and livestock. Arabella counted off the amounts of each one against her ledger and smiled, knowing that things would be stable here, should they have a siege. As she came back into the keep, she went up the stairs to her chambers and passed Lady Anne's room and saw her and her daughter, Heather, in front of the fire. The quiet sobbing, as Heather knelt in front of her mother, her face buried in her lap, made Arabella stop and look at the scene, her heart aching, knowing why the tears were being shed. Arabella walked on sadly, leaving Anne to gently stroke her daughter's hair, as she let her weep for her pain and anguish.

Even though the bruises and cuts of her ordeal were fading, the memory still cut into Heather like a knife every day. Hardly a moment would pass, when she closed her eyes, did the scenes flash across them, replaying every horrifying moment. Not a night had passed since she arrived, that she didn't wake up screaming, her mother comforting her until she could sleep again. For all that her life was spared, it had also been taken away from her. She felt soiled, impure, unfit for a man to take as his wife. Barely at the age to marry, her hopes of love to a noble man, cast into the darkness of despair, resigning herself to her Fate.

Garreth and Grayson returned to the castle, in late morning and rode through the open gate, continuing straight to the main house and the office of Douglas Gordon. They tied up to the rail and went inside, ready to have a few answers given. One guard held them at the door, while one entered and shortly, came back out. Garreth and Grayson looked the guards over in wonderment, as to why they were detained like that.

The Lairds entered and the door was closed behind them. They took seats at the Earl's desk and gave him their attention, hoping he was ready to tell them something. The Earl looked at them in kind, as if waiting for them to speak.

"Yes, what is it?" Douglas prodded them.

"That would be fer ye tae answer M'Lord Earl. We've been here three days and seen nothing being done about anything. Why isn't James MacRae been held, along wi' his sons and kin? When is the trial tae take place? What of all this charter business? Is Donan tae be held by the MacDonnell's? How long before we can get an answer tae these things?" Garreth's question's making little impact on Douglas' demeanour.

"I'll tell you what decisions I've come to, Lairds. In regards to Eilean Donan castle, as I said earlier, is under my control, until I could confirm rightful ownership. As I have full authority, by decree of King James VI, to place possession of an unchartered castle and lands to a clan of my choosing, that is loyal to the King, I have weighed everything out and have decided the MacRae's should get the castle and lands. There are very few MacDonnell's to control such a large holding, making it seem likely another attack, by any clan, would have it falling to whatever clan was attacking. As the MacRae's have pledged loyalty to his Highness and the MacDonnell's haven't, I look at the facts and know it is much better suited for them to take possession and rule. Let's admit the facts my Lairds. The MacRae's were able to take the castle, with only a twenty men, I'm told."

Before Douglas could continue, Grayson's rage was set into motion, his hand reaching for his dirk.

"Ye dare tae take away Donan from the MacDonnell's and gi'e it tae the MacRae's?"

Douglas saw Grayson's hand pulling out the long dagger from its sheath, the blade coming into view. His eyes widen in horror and in moments found his voice and called for the guards Hearing his call, Grayson sheathed his dirk again, but his enraged look remained. In an attempt to defend himself, Douglas threw the first thing his hand found on the desk, a carved, metal paperweight. He hit Grayson's chest with an ineffectual throw at him, the weight falling to the floor in front of Garreth.

The guards came in and stood beside the two Highlanders, hands on the handles of their swords, as they waited for an order from Douglas. Garreth bent down to pick up the paperweight and sat up again. Douglas watched him put the weight back on the desk and then a glint of sunlight caught his eye. There dangling from his neck was Therese's necklace, the late morning sun sparkling off the gold and small jewels set in it. Douglas' face went from fright to rage in moments, the realization of whose necklace it belonged to and why it would be around the neck of Garreth MacLeod, starting to make sense to the letter he received earlier.

"WHAT...IS...THAT?" Douglas' finger pointing at the shining object.

Garreth tucked it back under his tunic and smirked at Grayson, shrugging his shoulders at being caught.

"Arrest them." Douglas' order sounding more like a whine. 

The command didn't seem to make sense to the guards, as they looked at the two Lairds and then back to the Earl. 

"I said take them into custody, now!" Douglas' voice sounding more like a crabbit woman, than an Earl of the realm.

Before the guards could react, Grayson elbowed the one beside him in the face, breaking his nose and driving him backwards. The other guard was almost through drawing his sword, before Garreth had his dirk to his throat, making him slide it back in. He put his arm around him and used him as a shield, as they backed out of the room. Once outside, Garreth pushed the guard forward and shoved him with his foot, so he fell face forward into the room. He shut the door and Grayson pushed a large cabinet in front of it, barring their exit. They ran to their horses, untied them from the hitching post out front, mounting them in leaping jumps and rode for the gate.

The two guards struggled against the door, but soon had it open. They ran outside and raised the alarm to close the gate. Garreth and Grayson were at a full gallop and making for the gate, their speed assuring them an escape. They rode through, as the two sentries tried to close the heavy gates on them, taking a swing at them with their swords. Riding past the guard tower, the guard took aim at them and let loose his arrow. Garreth's horse broke stride, in pain, as the tip of the arrow pierced its back. Garreth howled in pain, as the same arrow was pinning his thigh to the horse. The shifting of his leg as he rode, drove white-hot pain into him, as the movements widened the hole. Reaching under, he pulled his leg up, removing the tip from the horse and urged it to run for all it could.

They made the safety of distance and continued riding at full gallop, putting more distance between them and the Earl. The relatively flat land along the shore, provided them with the ability to keep their horses at full speed, making for the narrows at the River Lochy. They splashed through the shallow water and the thick, silted sand, slowing them briefly, before getting back up to full gallop along the north shore of Loch Eil. The nine mile ride was made in quick time, the coast offering a smooth journey.

When they had made it to the end of the loch, Grayson looked back to see if they were being followed and saw the weakened state Garreth was in. He was slumping over, barely holding on with one hand loose on the reins, the other clasped tight to the wound in his thigh. Grayson slowed to keep along side of him.

"Can ye make it back tae Tioram, Garreth? Let me see." Grayson asked, as he helped Garreth sit up again.

Garreth moved his blood-soaked hand away, showing the arrow lodged through his leg, his kilt, his pouch and the letter from Therese inside. Grayson looked back, in the distance, he saw four riders were making their way along the loch towards them. 

"We're no oot of trouble yet, Garreth. Ye ha'e tae make it tae Tioram."

Garreth grimaced hard at the pain, feeling himself weakening from the loss of blood. He looked at Grayson, his face getting ashen. Grayson quickly tore a strip off the sash and made a tourniquette, tying it tight above the wound. Garreth winced in pain and nearly passed out, but came to and looked weakly at his friend.

"I'll do my best. Just lead the way and I'll follow ye." 

Garreth's strained voice brought a grave concern to him, for his friend. As much as he wanted to stop and tend to Garreth's wound better, he knew by the time he had it finished, more arrows would be the end of them for sure. He rode along the shore of Loch Sheil, keeping his ear pealed for the sound of Garreth behind him, as he made his way down. Seeing the river ahead, he knew they were close and before long, at Tioram and help for him. He turned to tell Garreth where they were and saw him slumped over the horse's back, barely clinging on. He looked back in haste for signs of the soldiers following and made a quick halt. He pulled Garreth's head up and feared the worst. He leaned over as far as he could and heard his faint, raspy breath. A feeling of relief washed through him, as he grabbed the reins from Garreth's hands and sped off again, down along the river and soon to Tioram.

Before he had reached the land bridge to the castle, Grayson was raising the alarm to the guards inside. As the hooves splashed in the ebbing tide waters, he hoped he had made it in time for his friend. 

"Laird Garreth's been wounded and lost a lot of blood. I don't know how much he has left, but the bleeding needs tae be stopped noo." he called out to Arabella, as she came into the courtyard.

"Ye men, take Laird Garreth tae the hall table and lay him there. Ye, bring water and cloth and ye, I'll need my needles and thread. All of ye's move now!" Arabella's commands going to the immediate people on the scene. 

Everyone moved with the speed Arabella wanted and soon, Garreth was laying unconscious on the table, his breathing barely keeping him alive. Grayson turned Garreth's leg, so he could cut off the point of the arrow. Arabella started to pull the arrow out and saw the tissue being held by the barbed grain of the wood. With no other choice, Grayson cut the shaft away, as close to Garreth's leg as he could. Arabella pulled the arrow out the other way and it came away cleaner. Once the arrow was removed, more blood gurgled from both sides of his leg. Arabella washed away the blood and took her needle and linen thread and began to sew the opening shut, in hopes it would stop the flow and save Garreth from dying.

Hours passed after the bleeding was stopped, a constant vigil to make sure he lived through the ordeal. By late evening, he seemed to be stabilizing and breathing a bit better. 

Feeling he was able to move, she had him brought to her chambers, so he could rest in comfort. Once they had him near the bed, she had them carefully remove his blood-soaked kilt and then carefully moved him on to it and covered him with thick robes to keep him warm. She watched over him and never left his side, hoping to see him stir and awaken. When sleep became her need, she undressed and put on her nightdress, barely letting him out of her sight. Coming to the bed, she looked at him lying there peacefully, forgetting the dire circumstance he was in. She felt her mind travel back through time and space, to a memory of the day she looked at Garreth, as a young man. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 16



With the freedom to allow her private curiosity, she lift up the robes and gazed once more at the pride she had seen so many years before and once again felt the stirring in her heart for Garreth, the feelings she had held so dearly, since she was a young girl. She lowered the robes over them and moved as close to Garreth as she could, wanting to know the moment he stirred. She closed her eyes, but not her other senses, as she kept her vigil on him. A faint smile crossed her face, as she thought of what she had just seen.

***************

Stuart ended the story at that point, feeling a break was in order, to stretch and move about. He could see several women talking about something interesting and they seemed emotional about the subject. He approached them and overheard talk of Arabella and Garreth and how wrong it was of her to step in on another woman's love interest.

"Ladies, ye must remember something. Arabella did'ne know aboot Therese yet. Grayson has'ne told her. As much as she knows, Garreth is still a single man and she already has a place in her heart fer him. So in all honesty, she has'ne done anything bad. It's just that ye all know aboot him and Therese. Don't be tae hard on her, the poor lass has had a rough go of it so far, don't ye think?"Stuart could see that made sense emotionally to the women and they eased off on their bad thoughts, that Arabella was a man-stealer.

He wondered how they would take the events that happened later, if they would still be feeling the same. He smiled to himself, seeing how everyone was getting into the story and enjoying their history so much. He thought to himself how this could become a regular event at re-unions to come, keeping alive the memories of those great Chiefs before him.

*

Thanks for voting and commenting, both are always appreciated. RJ



Blood of the Clans Ch. 17



The three story-tellers stood at the prow, looking at the faces of the love-struck women, as they heard the story of Garreth and Therese. They couldn't help but feel they were telling a love story, the way they all sighed and moaned, at all the romance of it. 

They had made it to the tip of the western coast and came to Neist Point Lighthouse, perched atop a jagged out-cropping of rock, the sheer bluffs surrounding it. The yacht plowed through the breaking waves, making the turn to head north and soon into Dunvegan Bay once more. As the yacht approached the castle, the seals were swimming alongside of them once again, welcoming them back. Slowly the yacht edged its way to the dock and mooring lines were tossed out to the staff waiting for them. As Dennis shut the engines down, he turned to Stuart looking smugly. "And it's five to six, can't do any better than than, eh Stuart?"

"No Dennis, ye did a grand job, so ye did. The boys as well. Thank ye everyone fer yer efforts, it was truly a marvellous journey. Now, let's get up tae the castle and rest ourselves before dinner." Stuart said, as he led the way back up to the castle.

The entire entourage, including Dennis and Frick and Frack, made their way up the sea-wall passage and into the courtyard. Everyone stopped to take a breath from the long climb and looked out at the bay, as a brilliant streak of sunlight was bursting through the clouds and illuminating the water.

"Shall we all go inside and ha'e some refreshments before dinner is served. I think it's time tae gi' the men a bit of action fer a change, so I'll ha'e Argus pick up wi' Sloan and his lot, where he left off, while I attend tae a few things and I'll join ye all later."

Stuart said, as he ushered everyone inside to the hall and some beverages, as well as some fresh shortbread and ginger cookies. 

The guests sat in their regular seats and started enjoying themselves to the refreshments, before calling for Argus to start off again. Taking a few more bites of shortbread and finishing them, Argus wiped the few crumbs from his mouth and thought of where he had left off. Remembering, his face turned a degree or two more serious, as he set about describing a night of thieving birlinns, with men you hated and wanted to kill.

********************

As night fell, Sloan, Blain and six of the strongest and best fighters of his clan, entered Dunollie Castle, to join the others who would be going on the raiding party. They stood at the entrance en masse, Sloan discreetly noting to Blain who the main players were. Blain paid particular attention when Sloan pointed out to him who Jacob MacLean was. He took stock of him and his men, sizing them up against their own, should the timing be right to take Jacob MacLean out of the living. James MacRae noticed Sloan's arrival and boomed out his name.

"Sloan Fraser. Come, join us fer a drink before ye go."

Sloan crossed the room with his uncle, the others milling about with men from the other clans, accepting tankards of ale mixed with mead, in friendship. James stood with the other leaders, Andrew, Jacob and Harlan, in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth more than the others. James offered Sloan a cup of the ale they were drinking, one of considerable better quality, than what the other men were drinking. James looked to Blain, standing beside him and Sloan introduced him.

"James MacRae, This is my uncle, Blain Fraser, brother tae my father, McCaulay." He said to him, looking for any reaction and seeing a change in facial expression, then turned to his uncle. "Blain, this James MacRae, who will be oor new Chieftain, we will sept wi'."

James held his hand out in greeting, taking Blain's wrist, Blain taking his in kind. There was a careful study made by each man of the other, before James smiled and offered him a drink of ale. Blain accepted it with a cheer of, " Slainte", to him, James returning it in kind. 

"Blain, this is Andrew MacDougall, this is Harlan Douglas and this is Jacob MacLean." directing his hand to each, as he spoke.

Blain greeted each with a shake of clasped wrists, holding on to Jacob's hand a little 

longer, looking into his eyes and studying him, before letting go, showing no emotion one way or the other, then stood beside Sloan again. Jacob looked visibly unnerved by the look and body language Blain used, then tried laughing it off with some derision of him.

"So, Blain, are ye better at taking a poke of fun, than yer brother was?" Jacob chuckled out, thinking it would lighten the mood between them.

As Jacob was about to laugh again, his eyes went wide in horror, realizing what Blain had just done. He clutched his throat, feeling the sharp point of the small snee buried deep in his windpipe, the blood already drowning him. Before he closed his eyes, Blain had moved in, holding him by his tunic, taking hold of the handle and looking into his darkening eyes.

"He did'ne like it, and neither do I."

With that, Blain tore a gaping slit through the side of Jacob's neck, his blood cascading out in a crimson waterfall. He wiped the blade off on the dead man's tunic and threw the lifeless body to the floor. The room had become frozen in time, as everyone watched in shock, at what had just happened. Blain stood and looked about at the others in front of him, challenging them to make a move against him. In as fast a move, his larger dirk, was out and ready to strike. Iain MacLean made a move for his sword, but before it was halfway out, the point of Blain's dirk was less than an inch from his throat, his fierce eyes showing his dark desire to go forward six more inches.

Iain staid his sword, as the MacLean's in the room came about the scene. Angers rose, seeing Jacob lying on the floor in an ever widening pool of blood, his head close to being severed completely. As they drew their swords and knives against Sloan and Blain, the other Fraser's, now standing close behind them, had theirs brandished and ready, a stand-off of steel taking place. One wrong move by anyone and it wouldn't end, until many bodies littered the floor, their blood staining it.

"STAY YER BLADES." The booming command of James MacRae filled the room and took hold of the situation. "He got what he deserved, same as Sloan's father got what he deserved, fer what he did. Is there any argument tae that?"

The MacLean's and Fraser's slowly lowered their swords in obeyance, but looks of hatred darted out and a dire unease fell upon the men.

"I'll let that be vengeance served, Blain Fraser. Raise another blade against a man under my command ag'in and I'll finish ye where ye stand. Are we in accord?"

James stood in close distance to Blain, the dirk and bloodied snee still in his hands. Blain sheathed them and bowed his head to MacRae.

"I swear an oath, nae tae draw against another, James MacRae."

Blain crossed his right fist over his heart, and looked up to see James, smiling at him.

"I can'ne hold it against ye, fer wanting tae do him in, Blain. It was a stupid thing tae say tae ye. Blood has been spilled by both sides noo and neither needs tae spill any more."

The law of MacRae's rule defined the logic in the men, as they sheathed their swords and eased the tense state among everyone, in every clan.

"Iain MacLean, yer noo the head of yer clan. Come and make peace wi' the Fraser's and put this tae rest noo. I'll say the same tae ye as well. Draw a blade against a Fraser, or any other under me, and ye'll wish ye had'ne."

MacRae's eyes bore into Iain's and showed the dominance of rule to obey. Iain crossed to Sloan and held his hand to him, the look in his eyes, a tale of hatred and submissive abeyance battling each other. Sloan took his offered hand and clasped the wrist tight with his hand. He pulled him closer and bore his own look into Iain's eyes.

"I'll abide by the rule James MacRae has set forth, will ye? If not, my sword is ready tae 

draw blood against ye."

Iain saw the fierceness set in the steel blue eyes, the hand on the hilt of his sword, and seven more men looking at him the same way, helped him make the right choice for him and his clan. 

"I'll abide by his rule and declare a peace wi' ye" 

Sloan let go of his arm, throwing it away from him and watched Iain turn to go back to his men. The tension in the room dropped, as acceptance was taken and no one made an objection to it. They knew in their hearts and minds, to expect some sort of revenge by the Fraser's for their leader, McCauley, being killed. The MacLean's picked up the body of their fallen leader, still emptying his life's blood over the dirty, wooden floor and walked quietly from the room, a crimson trail of clan vengeance following them. 

The clans talked quietly between themselves, taking stock of the situation and where things stood with them. James looked about at them and called for their attention, knowing they were becoming unsure of the alliance. Two leader's deaths already and they were at their ally's hands. The signs weren't pointing in the right direction to success for him.

"Clans, hear me. There'll be no more talk of bad blood. Each of us stands tae gain a great deal from this, if we stay t'gether. Do ye's want tae wage war against the other clans and hopefully win, only tae end up wiping oot the rest of yerselves afterwards, all because of bad blood. Noo, I'll ha'e no more talk of it. We ha'e a plan in place fer the night and it will be carried oot. When MacLean has settled wi' his brother, we'll get started. Tae keep the peace, the Fraser's will go wi' the Douglas', and the MacLean's will go wi' the MacDougall's, mine will be amongst ye's, making' sure tae keep the peace."

The clans parted to separate areas of the room, allowing a calm to settle, while they waited for the MacLean's to return. Once they did, James gave the signal for them to head to the birlinn and begin the plan that was scheduled. As they made their way out of the keep, James stopped and stood with the leaders at the entrance, save Sloan, who had other plans to attend to tonight and watched as they headed to the shore, dividing into their groups as they boarded it. The one thing the men were pleased to see, was the cloudy sky, covering a crescent moon that would shed little light to their deeds. Fate might yet play a hand they could win tonight.

At forty feet in length and ten feet in the beam, the birlinn was the master of the seas, able to hold up to forty battle-ready men. The larch wood hull was laid over oak ribs, making it light, yet extremely durable. A coating of charred ash had been rubbed over the light brown of the wood, taking away the sheen and any sight of it in the water. Sixteen oars were manned two each, by members of each clan, the strongest of each starting them out, the strain on their muscles hard, getting the heavy craft underway.

Cool night air and a gentle breeze added an ease to rowing, as they made their way south, taking the longer way around Kerrera Island, to avoid being spotted from the more populated areas along the channel. Catching the outer channel winds now, the oars were brought in and stowed length-wise along the keel, as the square, indigo coloured sail was raised. The pull of the wind, had waves breaking over the prow in no time, the mist wetting the faces of the marauders on board.

Even with the weight of all the men, the birlinn made great speed in open waters. With the good winds behind them, they made the end of Kerrera quickly and headed east to their first two birlinns on the list, in Loch Feochan. Just as Sloan and the other Fraser's had suspected, the Douglas' and the MacLean's had chosen the nearest ones to save time. The tops of the masts could be seen swaying back and forth gently with the waves, as they sailed closer.

The large fortress stood close to the water's edge, battlements and a high curtain wall provided a commanding view of the loch and a strong defence against attack. The birlinn sailed slowly past, far out in the loch, keeping their invisibility, as they scouted the crenellations for signs of guard movement. Throwing the rudder over gently, they came about and made a closer pass, looking for their plan of attack. The guards moved in counter-rotation to each other about the wall, giving a short window of opportunity, as they passed each other on the far side.

An inlet to the west of the fortress, provided an easy place to pull up and let the first ten men out quietly, their soft, deerskin boots making little noise on the grassy shore. They pushed the birlinn away from the shore and made their way back along the coast towards the fortress. The others sailed back around the isthmus near the mouth and moored in wait on the far side. Should there be any trouble, they were ready to ambush anyone who came after them.

Looking through a clearing, Bruce MacDougall, Andrew's younger brother, scouted the area for signs of the guards keeping watch. After a few minutes, he saw it was safe to approach, the guards making their way around to the rear, on their scheduled rounds. He motioned for the others to follow behind him and with no more than a whisper of a sound, the men made their way to the boats and untied them, pushing them out from the stone pier, into the water and climbing aboard. They quickly and quietly handed the oars out and set them in place, with only a few bumps to make noise. In unison, the men started stroking the oars quietly in the water, to get distance from the shore and into the cover of night, before putting more effort into rowing. It would be dawn, before the guards would notice the boats missing and raise the alarm, their punishment severe for the loss.

When the two boats cleared the point coming out of Loch Feochan, their sails were raised and they were sailing past the others, all hands raised in silent triumph. The main crew set their oars rowing again, getting past the point and raised the sail, silently going past the fortress and further down the loch to the head, to the retrieve the boat at the end. The next two MacLean and three MacDougall members prepared themselves to jump out, while the boat was still moving, allowing the birlinn to turn and get out of sight quickly. A clearing ahead, afforded them a safe landing, as well as making very little noise to alert anyone. As they made for the clearing, the five were over the side, making shore and rolling on the soft grass. Harold MacRae, steering the birlinn, gave a whispered order of, "Oars up," and threw the tiller over, turning the boat slowly, making little noise in the water, before giving the order to row again. They slowly rowed on back up the loch, the sound fading quickly, as the distance was made between them. 

The five men travelled along the water's edge in stealth, until they could see the mast, a short distance ahead. Kyle MacLean motioned for the others to stay, while he went ahead and scouted the area. Looking along the coast and then up to the stone manse, Kyle looked for signs of a guard. He didn't see anyone and was just going to motion for everyone to come forward, when a cough alerted him to someone sitting against a tree a short distance away, to his left. He scouted for a way through the brush, without making noise and saw a clear enough path.

Measuring each step for weight and balance, Kyle approached the reclining guard from behind. The faint hiss of steel on leather was made, as he withdrew two dirks from their scabbards. Coming up behind the tree, he spread his arms wide and brought the blades around in a hug of death, as both tips pierced the guard and drove deep into his heart. With edges facing each other, he pulled them apart, severing the man's heart in half, a word never being uttered. The dull thud of the body hitting the ground, barely broke the silence of the night, after Kyle relieved the dirks from their duties. He crept back in silence and motioned for the others to follow. They passed the slain guard, each man noting him as they passed, the twin punctures slowing in their flow, releasing the lifeblood from him.

They made for the birlinn with quiet haste and untied it. The bottom scraped against the gravelled bottom, making enough noise to echo down the quiet loch. The barking of a dog had their cover taken, no longer caring now if they were heard, they continued pushing hard and floated the craft, before the five climbed in and took positions. Setting the oars in their locks, the men rowed in double-speed, not caring about the splashing of the oars in the water. Lit torches could be seen coming from the manse, bobbing and weaving about, as the holders made their way down the rocky terrain to them.

They were well out of range of the few arrows released at them, and in moments, they slid into the blackness of the night and disappeared. Rowing along the shore for guidance, they made their way back towards the mouth of the loch. As Kyle stood high on the prow looking for obstacles, a soft thud was heard and he was suddenly taken overboard into the black waters. The men quickly looked at him, as he floated past face down, an arrow plunged through his neck. In moments several more arrows were streaking in through the darkness, only the growing hiss of the flights in the air, making their presence known. 

Dermott MacDougall felt the point of the arrow pierce his thigh, letting out a guttural cry, as it continued through and joined him to the wooden plank he was sitting on. With his life at stake, there was no time for tending to it and continued rowing with the others. 

As they headed out into the loch's black escape, the last arrow found the back of Leonard MacLean's shoulder, as he was steering the tiller. He fell forward, sending their direction back towards shore. Torquil MacLean jumped from his seat and threw the tiller hard over the other way, bringing them about and back towards safety again.

Leonard grabbed the arrow and pulled it from his shoulder, gritting his teeth hard, as pieces of his flesh still clung to the shaft and quickly had a torn piece of his sash tied around it, stemming the flow. He took his place at the rudder again, while Dermott slid the blade of his dirk under his thigh, slicing into his own skin, as he worked to get to the shaft of the arrow and cut through it. He pulled the cut end from his leg and screamed in agony, as muscle and skin tissue tore away with the course wooden shaft. 

He ran his blade through his sash and tore a long strip away, wrapping it around his leg tightly several times and knotting it. The four looked amongst themselves, silently acknowledging their success, as well as their loss, accepting what they got as the price paid for the lives they had and the birlinn they sailed. They made it back to the mouth of the loch without further incident, raising the sail and taking great pleasure in the wind, pushing them into the open seaway and on to their hiding place.

The remainder had sailed down the coast to where the next two birlinns had been spotted. The five Douglas' and the five Fraser's now had to take their turn at securing their boats. The men to be left on board, were the one's for rowing from each clan. Sloan rowed with Blain at the port side, away from any other clans in earshot and whispered his thoughts to him.

"We could be away wi' two birlinn, if we do this right."

Blain looked at him with interest, but with no idea how he was planning on it. 

"How so, Sloan?" he whispered.

"When we all get oot and go fer oor boats. the MacRae's will head back tae Dunollie. We can leave oor man wi' MacRae as planned, like Douglas has to do. Once we ha'e both birlinn and rowing back, we'll make sure one of oors is at the helm and bring the two t'gether and board it. Oor men can best any of their lot I see on board. We'll command two birlinn the night and oor men can finish the plan we have set oot fer oorselves in quicker time." 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 17



"That's all well and good, Sloan, but what do we do wi' the Douglas'?"

Blain whispered to him, knowing Sloan's thoughts held an answer at the ready.

"It would be a good time tae introduce them to An Cailleach of Corryvrecken, don't ye think?"

The words brought an excited dawning across Blain's face, and Sloan bade him to remain subdued and not bring attention to them talking.

"What do we tell the others?" Blain asked in whispered tones again, not even caring to venture a thought, as he knew his nephew was well ahead of him,

"We say they got in their birlinn, and we got in oors. We were just aboot tae leave and the clan came oot and were upon us. We were farther away and did'ne get hit wi' arras, but the Douglas' lost three men tae them and then they were boarded and killed ootright, there in front of us. We nearly got caught as well, They chased us fer hoors, but we ootsailed them intae the sea and took co'er behind an island. We waited most of a day, until we knew it was safe tae leave, before we sailed back."

Blain heard the story and it seemed as real a story to tell, as if it actually happened. Once again he looked at the brilliance of his nephew's foresight to plan something out with such detail, in such a short time and with such cunning, and knew he was destined to change the name of Fraser in history to come. 

The winds rose with the coming tide, as they neared their final destination for the night, a small village at Puldorran, just north of the Clachan Bridge, the Fraser's had crossed a week earlier in their search. The two birlinns were close to the beach, as they were when they were scouted before. The area held no means of a quick disembarking and a place to land was sought. A little way back up the coast, the Fraser's and Douglas' were out and splashing through knee deep water to get to the shore, the shallow draft of the birlinn allowing them that depth. Once on shore, they turned to bid the mixture of clansmen farewell, the men aboard waving back, as they slid into the cloak of darkness and headed to the spot where the others would be waiting, after hiding their boats. 

Making their way back to the village, the sound of dogs barking in the distance, had them stopping and waiting until they quieted, before continuing. Coming to the edge of the several buildings that made it up, every eye was peeled for signs of movement. With a peace among most of the clans, owners had taken to becoming lax in the security of their possessions, giving the raiders the ease of making for the two boats, without drawing attention to themselves.

Cutting the lines from their moorings for haste, the two were drifting freely. Blain made sure he jumped on with Keith Fraser, to the boat the Douglas' were converging on. With the need for speed and stealth being their main defence, no objections were made to the sailing arrangements, as two Douglas members climbed aboard with the Fraser's. The trap set, the boats made their way out into the black waters and the deadly darkness of night.

Blain sat at the forward rowing position on the port side, with Declan Douglas, Harlan's oldest son and leader, sitting in front of him. The other Douglas' were in the aft rowing positions, with the faces of everyone looking away from him. He gave a signal to Sloan, steering the other birlinn, once they were up to a good speed, to set the plan in motion. Keith Fraser was steering the Douglas birlinn, as they had planned and once they were a safe enough distance, Keith held the tiller hard over, while Sloan did the same in reverse to his, bringing the two boats together. 

Sloan gave out the order, "Oars Up!", and the Fraser's on the starboard side pulled up their oars, as they watched it approach. The Douglas', caught unaware, had their oars ripped from their hands, pulling arms out of their sockets, the backs of the men in front getting broken from the force of the oars ramming into them.

Blain let go of his oar as the bow approached him and saw it get slammed with such force, Declan was bent backwards, his spine snapping, folding him in half backwards on the bottom of the boat. Before the boat had finished rocking from the impact, the Fraser's quickly set about taking care of the remaining three Douglas', blades at their throats, if there was to be any protest to what was happening. The lifeless body of Declan and a crippled Foster Douglas, were tossed over the side, into the frigid waters, listening as his cries soon vanished and silence was held over the water once again.

"Douglas', take oars and row."

Sloan's command stunned them, after the brutal display of their brethren being destroyed physically and tossed away. They were without leadership and defence, unable to decide for themselves what to do and succumbed. The points of Claymores edging closer to their necks and bodies, had them picking up the oars and rowing with effort. The open water now coming up as they cleared the point, ended their rowing duties and they pulled the oars in, stowing them as commanded, the grey sailcloth being lightly illuminated, as it unfurled and snapped taut with the wind. The crescent moon broke through the clouds and vaguely lit the choppy waters of their journey, as well as the fear on the Douglas faces and the smiles on the Fraser's.

The eight miles passed in unspoken silence, only the Fraser's knowing of their destination. The hands of the Douglas' were bound behind them and their weapons removed, taking away any chance of retaliation. The oldest Douglas member felt he had to make an attempt for their lives.

"Fraser, why are ye doing this? We're tae be allies. Oor Clans hav'ne any bad blood between us. We've done nothing tae ye. Why are ye doing this tae us? What are ye going tae do wi' us?" Garnet Douglas protested, hoping an answer to one of his questions would make some sense in what had happened.

The fear and helplessness was thick on every Douglas, waiting for an answer that gave them hope.

Sloan turned from looking at their destination coming into view and smiled at them. 

"No tae worry, Lads. We're just spending the night on an island and then visiting a friend of oors in the morrow."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 18



As the men prepared the ship to leave port, Therese looked for a guard or soldier to give her last letter to. She spotted a soldier on patrol, coming up the pier and called out to him. The soldier recognized who she was and made haste to the gangway, before it was raised. He stood in front of her at attention and waited for her direction.

"I want you to give this letter to the Earl, no one else. Make sure that he gets it, after, I have left." Her emphasis on after, being stressed to him.

The soldier took the letter and held onto it, before bowing quickly and rushing off the ship, as the gangway was ready to be released. He stood on the pier and watched the ship move slowly out into the harbour, before the sails were raised and the ship moved under the power of wind, onto its destination.

The soldier walked back through the village, stopping every now and then to talk to people, or chastise young miscreants up to no good stealing fruit and bread from the vendors. It was late morning, when the soldier walked through the gate and proceeded to the Earl's office. He was told to wait, until the Earl was finished with his business. It was closer to mid-day when the Earl called out for first entry, rolling up maps and charters and storing them safely in his desk. The soldier approached and stopped before Douglas, bowing in respect and handed him the letter.

"It's from Lady Therese, M'Lord. She instructed me to bring it tae ye after she sailed."

Douglas shooed him away, as he smiled, looking at his name in her handwriting. Once the door closed, he broke the wax seal and opened the folds. He puffed out his chest expecting to see flowery words of love to him, instead reading the first paragraph and standing in shocked horror at her words. By the time he finished, he was in a petulant frenzy, storming about the room, denying her words and demanding justice. She was his, she signed a contract with him saying so and letter be damned, he was going to have her.

The ship was well around the point on Islay and sailing down the Irish Sea, as Therese stood on the foredeck and looked out, there in the distance, much too far to ever see yet, was her home and freedom, filling her with hope and happiness, as she drew nearer to it. Her heart also wept for a sadness, as every mile she sailed closer to home, she sailed a mile further away from the love she held in her heart. She turned back to the fading coast of Scotland, wondering where Arabella could be, amongst the continuous mountains and lochs, never knowing how close she was the entire time she was there.

She steeled her heart and knew she had to be strong and use all her abilities to run the chateau and the estate. She closed her eyes and imagined driving up in a carriage, the sun shining brightly off the stone face, the gate open and once again calling Trecesson home.

After Garreth awoke with the rising sun, the first thing after dressing and relieving himself in the bed pot, was to look at the cross around his neck and kiss it, then he pulled the letter from Therese out of his pouch and cracked the seal. The scent of her flooded his senses, as he unfolded it. The more words he read, the bigger his smile became, as his feelings for her were confirmed by her words for him. He was fairly singing in happiness and then came across her final request. His face was one of surprise at seeing that Therese and Arabella were friends, then all at once, feeling he should have read this before she left. Not once did he put the Therese he had met, with the one told of by Arabella years ago.

He left his room and loudly knocked on Grayson's door, next to his. A groggy, dishevelled Grayson opened the door with just his kilt on, hastily wrapped and nearly threatening to expose himself.

"What is it Garreth? The bloody sun's barely e'en up. Och, I see why." Grayson said grumpily at being woken, then spying the letter in Garreth's hand.

"Och, it was time ye were up any way, ye great, horrible hungus. It's no what it says tae me, I came wi' it. Listen tae this, ' I have one request that I must ask of you, Garreth, my love,' " to which Grayson gave a derisive snicker, Garreth showing a face of disdain at his reaction, then continued. " I wish to know if Laird Grayson, is of a relation to Arabella of Castle Tioram. It is my most heart-felt hope to contact her.' and the rest ye don't need tae hear." Garreth finished off, smiling again, at what he knew it said.

"She's the Therese that knows my sister, Arabella? Why did she no say something while she was here? We're no e'en thirty miles from Tioram. Arabella could'e been here in a morning's ride tae see her." Grayson said more alertly, after hearing what it was. Grayson looked at Garreth with suspicious thoughts in his mind, his eyes and face showing the wheels turning inside. "That wee poof of a man doonstairs knows full well, Arabella is my sister. I'm sure Lady Therese asked when she got here, if he knew her, or not. I know how close those two are. Do ye remember the way she went on aboot her, when she got back? E'en wi' Logan and her engaged, she talked bloody endlessly aboot the two of them this and the two of them that. Arabella would ha'e been the first one she'd of wanted tae contact after landing. So why did'ne Douglas let her know? Something's no right, Garreth." Grayson's eyes were no longer sleepy, but alert and a smouldering dislike growing in them.

Grayson's words sank into Garreth and he weighed each one with countenance. Why didn't the Earl allow her contact? Why has he been acting so nonchalant about the entire MacRae raid? Why hasn't anything been done in the investigation? Too many things started to come to the fore and shed a bad light on Douglas.

"I think we'll need tae a pay a wee visit tae Douglas and find oot aboot a few things. There's tae many questions that hav'ne been answered and it's aboot time they were. Don't ye think?" Garreth asked Grayson, in their bantered talk, knowing the same thoughts were in his head as well.

"Aye, let's get a meal intae us first and then we'll go and see that wee fart." Grayson told him and started to dress properly.

"Is that all ye can think of, is food? No wonder yer the size ye are. I'm starting tae think I'll ha'e tae keep the coo's under watch while yer aroond, just in case ye feel a bit peckish and need a nosh." Garreth's jesting set the rage in motion in Grayson.

"I need tae eat, ye wee twig of a man. What are ye, fourteen, maybe fifteen stone? I'm nearly nineteen stone, so ye can'ne look this good and be this strong, if ye don't." Grayson's reply stabbing back at Garreth, as he finished putting on his sash and belts. He picked up his Claymore and ran his hand down the blade, looking at Garreth with a mocking meanness, before sheathing it. He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of flaming red hair and smiled. 

"Save that face, fer when ye'll need it. I'm getting my feelings aboot all of this, and it's no good. I've had this in my head since we've come here and I can'ne shake it." Garreth's look took a more serious intent, as he spoke and Grayson understood his trepidations. Things hadn't added up right from the beginning with the Earl, for both of them. 

Douglas paced his office in countless patterns, changing it each time he had a thought. He looked at his map of Europe hanging on the wall behind his desk, focusing on France. He walked towards it, looking back and forth between Inverlochy and Chateau de Trecesson, a white pin, denoting its location. He could think of no other thought than to just go there and take her back. If anyone protested, he had a signed contract of marriage and was only bringing his betrothed back to him to wed her. He was well within his rights and the letter of the law that ruled his land backed him. She was his, Douglas smiled. He picked up the paper signed by Lady Yvette de Trecesson and himself and smiled broader.

As Garreth and Grayson ate oatcakes and slices of fatty bacon, they discussed how they were going to handle things with Douglas later. They had so many issues to deal with, all of them important, but far apart in context to deal with as a whole. The MacDonnell's, the MacRae's, the investigation and trial, the charters of their castles coming into question and what did Douglas Wallace, fourth Earl of Huntly, have to do with all of it?

Seeing too many of the Earl's men about them, they finished eating and headed to the stables. They wanted to talk more in depth and openly, forming a united plan of attack between them, as they rode away on horseback from the fort and out into the hills.

At Castle Tioram, life had returned to a normal routine of life, the crofters bringing in their taxes, in crops and livestock. Arabella counted off the amounts of each one against her ledger and smiled, knowing that things would be stable here, should they have a siege. As she came back into the keep, she went up the stairs to her chambers and passed Lady Anne's room and saw her and her daughter, Heather, in front of the fire. The quiet sobbing, as Heather knelt in front of her mother, her face buried in her lap, made Arabella stop and look at the scene, her heart aching, knowing why the tears were being shed. Arabella walked on sadly, leaving Anne to gently stroke her daughter's hair, as she let her weep for her pain and anguish.

Even though the bruises and cuts of her ordeal were fading, the memory still cut into Heather like a knife every day. Hardly a moment would pass, when she closed her eyes, did the scenes flash across them, replaying every horrifying moment. Not a night had passed since she arrived, that she didn't wake up screaming, her mother comforting her, until she could sleep again. For all that her life was spared, it had also been taken away from her. She felt soiled, impure, unfit for a man to take as his wife. Barely at the age to marry, her hopes of love to a noble man, cast into the darkness of despair, resigning herself to her Fate.

Garreth and Grayson returned to the castle, in late morning and rode through the open gate, continuing straight to the main house and the office of Douglas Wallace. They tied up to the rail and went inside, ready to have a few answers made. The guards held them at the door, while one entered and shortly came back out. Garreth and Grayson looked the guards over in wonderment, as to why they were detained like that. The Lairds entered and the door was closed behind them. They took seats at the Earl's desk and gave him their attention, hoping he was ready to tell them something. The Earl looked at them in kind, as if waiting for them to speak.

"Yes, what is it?" Douglas prodded them.

"That would be fer ye tae answer M'Lord Earl. We've been here three days and seen nothing being done aboot anything. Why isn't James MacRae been held, along wi' his sons and kin? When is the trial tae take place? What of all this charter business? Is Donan tae be held by the MacDonnell's? How long before we can get an answer tae these things?" Garreth's question's making little impact on Douglas' demeanour.

"I'll tell you what decisions I've come to, Lairds. In regards to Eilean Donan castle, as I said earlier, is under my control, until I could confirm rightful ownership. As I have full authority, by decree of King James VI, to place possession of an unchartered castle and lands to a clan of my choosing, that is loyal to the King, I have weighed everything out and have decided the MacRae's should get the castle and lands. There are very few MacDonnell's to control such a large holding, making it seem likely another attack, by any clan, would have it falling to whatever clan was attacking. As the MacRae's have pledged loyalty to his Highness and the MacDonnell's haven't, I look at the facts and know it is much better suited for them to take possession and rule. Let's admit the facts my Lairds. The MacRae's were able to take the castle, with only twenty men, I'm told." Before Douglas could continue, Grayson's rage was set into motion, his hand reaching for his dirk.

"Ye dare tae take away Donan from the MacDonnell's and gi'e it tae the MacRae's?" Douglas saw Grayson's hand pulling out the long dagger from its sheath, the blade coming into view. His eyes widen in horror and in moments found his voice and called for the guards Hearing his call, Grayson sheathed his dirk again, but his enraged look remained. In an attempt to defend himself, Douglas threw the first thing his hand found on the desk, a carved, metal paperweight. He hit Grayson's chest with an ineffectual throw at him, the weight falling to the floor in front of Garreth.

The guards came in and stood beside the two Highlanders, hands on the handles of their swords, as they waited for an order from Douglas. Garreth bent down to pick up the paperweight and stood up again. Douglas watched him put the weight back on the desk and then a glint of sunlight caught his eye. There dangling from his neck was Therese's necklace, the late morning sun sparkling off the gold and small jewels set in it. Douglas' face went from fright to rage in moments, the realization of whose necklace it belonged to and why it would be around the neck of Garreth MacLeod, starting to make sense to the letter he received earlier.

"WHAT...IS...THAT?" Douglas' finger pointing at the shining object.

Garreth tucked it back under his tunic and smirked at Grayson, shrugging his shoulders at being caught.

"Arrest them." Douglas' order sounding more like a whine. 

The command didn't seem to make sense to the guards, as they looked at the two Lairds and then back to the Earl. 

"I said take them into custody, now!" Douglas' voice sounding more like a crabbit woman, than an Earl of the realm.

Before the guards could react, Grayson elbowed the one beside him in the face, breaking his nose and driving him backwards. The other guard was almost through drawing his sword, before Garreth had his dirk to his throat, making him slide it back in. He put his arm around him and used him as a shield, as they backed out of the room. Once outside, Garreth pushed the guard forward and pushed him with his foot, so he fell face forward into the room. He shut the door and Grayson pushed a large cabinet in front of it, barring their exit. They ran to their horses, still tied to the hitching post out front, mounting them in leaping jumps and rode for the gate.

The two guards struggled against the door, but soon had it open. They ran outside and raised the alarm to close the gate. Garreth and Grayson were at a full gallop and making for the gate, their speed assuring them an escape. They rode through, as the two sentries tried to close the heavy gates on them, taking a swing at them with their swords. Riding past the guard tower, the guard took aim at them and let loose his arrow. Garreth's horse broke stride, in pain, as the tip of the arrow pierced its' back. Garreth howled in pain, as the same arrow was pinning his thigh to the horse. The shifting of his leg as he rode, drove white-hot pain into him, as the movements widened the hole. Reaching under, he pulled his leg up, removing the tip from the horse and urged it to run for all it could.

They made the safety of distance and continued riding at full gallop, putting more distance between them and the castle. The relatively flat land along the shore, provided them with the ability to keep their horses at full speed, making for the narrows at the River Lochy. They splashed through the shallow water and the thick, silted sand, slowing them briefly, before getting back up to full gallop along the north shore of Loch Eil. The nine mile ride was made in quick time, the coast offering a smooth journey.

When they had made it to the end of the loch, Grayson looked back to see if they were being followed and saw the weakened state Garreth was in. He was slumping over, barely holding on with one hand loose on the reins, the other clasped tight to the wound in his thigh. Grayson slowed to keep along side of him.

"Can ye make it back tae Tioram, Garreth? Let me see." Grayson asked, as he helped Garreth sit up again.

Garreth moved his blood-soaked hand away, showing the arrow lodged through his leg, his kilt, his pouch and the letter from Therese inside. Grayson looked back, in the distance, he saw four riders were making their way along the loch towards them. He quickly tore a strip from his sash and wrapped it tightly above the wound, stemming the flow of blood. He looked back and saw the distance had closed considerably and knew they had to ride hard. 

"We're no oot of trouble yet, Garreth. Ye ha'e tae make it tae Tioram."

Garreth grimaced hard at the pain, feeling himself weakening from the loss of blood. He looked at Grayson, his face getting ashen.

"I'll do my best. Just lead the way and I'll follow ye." 

Garreth's strained voice brought a grave concern to him for his friend. As much as he wanted to stop and tend to Garreth's wound, he knew by the time he had it finished, more arrows would be the end of them for sure. He rode along the shore of Loch Sheil, keeping his ear pealed for the sound of Garreth behind him, as he made his way down. Seeing the river ahead, he knew they were close and before long, at Tioram and help for him. He turned to tell Garreth where they were and saw him slumped over the horse's back, barely clinging on. He looked back in haste for signs of the soldiers following and made a quick halt. He pulled Garreth's head up and feared the worst. He leaned over as far as he could and heard his faint, raspy breath. A feeling of relief washed through him, as he grabbed the reins from Garreth's hands and sped off again, down along the river and soon to Tioram.

Before he had reached the land bridge to the castle, Grayson was raising the alarm to the guards inside. As the hooves splashed in the ebbing tide waters, he hoped he had made it in time for his friend. 

"Laird Garreth's been wounded and lost a lot of blood. I don't know how much he has left, but the bleeding needs tae be stopped noo." He called out to Arabella, as she came into the courtyard.

"Ye men, take Laird Garreth tae the hall table and lay him there. Ye, bring water and cloth and ye, I'll need my needles and thread. All of ye's move, NOW!" Arabella's commands going to the immediate people on the scene. 

Everyone moved with the speed Arabella wanted and soon, Garreth was laying unconscious on the table, his breathing barely keeping him alive. Grayson turned Garreth's leg, so he could cut off the point of the arrow. Arabella started to pull the arrow out and saw the tissue being held by the barbed grain of the wood. With no other choice, Grayson cut the shaft away, as close to Garreth's leg as he could. Arabella pulled the arrow out the other way and it came away cleaner. Once the arrow was removed, more blood gurgled from both sides of his leg. Arabella washed away the blood and took her needle and linen thread and began to sew the opening shut, in hopes it would stop the flow and save Garreth from dying.

Hours passed after the bleeding was stopped, a constant vigil to make sure he lived through the ordeal. By late evening, he seemed to be stabilizing and breathing a bit better. Feeling he was able to move, she had him brought to her chambers, so he could rest in comfort. Once they had him near the bed, she had them carefully remove his blood-soaked kilt and then carefully moved him on to it and covered him with thick robes to keep him warm. She watched over him and never left his side, hoping to see him stir and awaken. When sleep became her need, she undressed and put on her nightdress, barely letting him out of her sight. Coming to the bed, she looked at him lying there peacefully, forgetting the dire circumstance he was in. She felt her mind travel back through time and space, to a memory of the day she looked at Garreth, as a young man. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 18



With the freedom to allow her private curiosity, she lift up the robes and gazed once more at the pride she had seen so many years before and once again felt the stirring in her heart for Garreth, the feelings she had held so dearly, since she was a young girl. She lowered the robes over them and moved as close to Garreth as she could, wanting to know the moment he stirred. She closed her eyes, but not her other senses, as she kept her vigil on him. A faint smile crossed her face, as she thought of what she had just seen.

*******************************

Stuart ended the story at that point, feeling a break was in order, to stretch and move about. He could see several women talking about something interesting and they seemed emotional about the subject. He approached them and overheard talk of Arabella and Garreth and how wrong it was of her to step in on another woman's love interest.

"Ladies, ye must remember something. Arabella did'ne know aboot Therese yet. Grayson has'ne told her. As much as she knows, Garreth is still a single man and she already has a place in her heart fer him. So in all honesty, she has'ne done anything bad. It's just that ye all know aboot him and Therese. Don't be tae hard on her, the poor lass has had a rough go of it so far, don't ye think?"

Stuart could see that made sense emotionally to the women and they eased off on their bad thoughts, that Arabella was a man-stealer. He wondered how they would take the events that happened later, if they would still have them feeling the same. He smiled to himself, seeing how everyone was getting into the story and enjoying their history so much. He thought to himself how this could become a regular event at re-unions to come, keeping alive the memories of those great Chiefs before him.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 19



It was getting close to mid-day the following day, when Therese first caught a glimpse of the coast of France. The confirmation of seeing it made her heart jump with excitement. The entire trip was made in thought and now it held in her heart, if those thoughts would come to pass. The hazy line of mist finally gave way to the coastal splendour of St. Brieuc, the same place she left from in misery, but now returning to in joy. Even the brightly painted buildings took on a cheerier complexion. 

As the ship was docked and being unloaded, Therese made sure her belongings were kept together and secure. It was the familiar voice of Marie, that made her heart leap with joy when she heard it. She turned to look down the pier and saw Marie, standing by a carriage, smiling and waving to her.

The women came to each other and met in a warm, loving embrace. To Therese, Marie was the only thing close to a mother left in her life. They kissed each other on the cheek and held each other at arms length. Tears of happiness filled both their eyes, as rejoining brought an end to a separation neither had wanted to happen. The carriage was brought up and Therese's belongings were stacked on the tail section and tied securely to it. The driver helped Therese and Marie into the carriage, then climbed up to his seat, before giving the command to go and Therese was excitedly on her way back to Chateau de Trecesson, home.

The trip was spent telling Marie, of Douglas Wallace, how horrid a man he was and her refusal to commit to the agreement and then about Garreth. She told Marie everything that happened from being knocked over, to her final farewell kiss. Marie hugged her in happiness, feeling Therese had had enough misery in her life already and this was a much needed change to it.

As Trecesson came into view between the line of oaks, Therese felt a lump come to her throat, the heart-felt joy becoming over-whelming and tears trailed from her eyes. Once the carriage stopped in the courtyard, Therese alit on her own ground for the first time. The feeling of being the Lady of the Chateau hadn't quite sunk in yet, but the servantry treated her with all the graces of her title. She turned full-circle, taking in everything, as if for the first time.

Once unpacked and settled, she made her way to the small chapel in the Chateau and prayed for her parents souls. She had a couple of the young girls gather flowers and had them brought to her parents graves and placed carefully, on the now grassy mounds. It would be one of her first duties to do, the commissioning of their portraits done, to hang in prominence in the great hall. Of the several smaller ones of them, she wanted grand masterpieces to commemorate them by. She walked back inside and stood in the hall, imagining them hanging there in front of her. She turned to her right and imagined two more portraits adorning the wall. One of her and one of Garreth. 

Her first night was spent with Marie and several of the female servants, telling them stories of what Scotland and the men were like and they told her everything that had happened since she was gone. Now that Therese was back, the Chateau and estate would be put back in her hands and no longer under the Sheriff's, his appointment by the King now over. They discussed everything about the imposter who killed her parents and how the plot to take over the Chateau almost worked. 

It was the imposter's fake seal of the real Henri de Trecesson, that was his undoing. The papers were identified as fakes, after they were compared to others by the Sheriff. The imposter Leon St. Gilbert, had been caught with other forged documents, implicating him in other crimes of murder and fraud. In two days, she would be in Paris and face the man who nearly took her life away.

The joy of riding through the estate the next morning and seeing everyone again, made Therese happier than she could remember. Seeing people who had worked for her parents and now working for her, stopping to greet her and welcome her back, made everything seem right again in her world. She spent time with each and every person she came across, sharing their lives and getting to know them all over again. Many expressed their sorrow at her parent's passing, letting her know they missed them and prayed for their souls regularly.

The next day found her nervous with anticipation and dread, as she prepared to attend the sentencing of her parent's killer. Her conscience weighed heavy on her mind, wanting justice for her parents death, but dreading having to see him face to face, as was required of her to bring her charges to a close, as the accuser.

Her carriage ride to Paris, took her along the same roads she had travelled with Arabella. What seemed like a lifetime ago now, brought back happy memories of their time together. She hoped Garreth asked Grayson and soon she word hear word from Arabella again. She imagined her now with several children and enjoying the life of a Lady with Logan. She imagined the day Garreth and her would be together, raising a family, the two life-long friends, bringing their families together even closer.

The splendour of Paris, compared to the primitive, bleakness of Scotland she had just left, had her feeling more like the lady she was. The beautiful buildings being constructed, along with a magnificent new bridge, Pont Neuf, had her staring at the dawn of the Renaissance era. As she approached the Office of the Sheriff, her stomach started feeling queasy and unsettled, the thought of seeing that murderous man and what he had done, made her weak in her resolve and she did her best to steady and calm herself.

As the guard led her into the building and then to the office, Therese looked at the splendour of the architecture and the artwork adorning the hall. After being bade entry, the guard bowed and left, closing the door and putting a beginning to an closure, to a sad part of her life. Therese looked at the man standing before her and knew him from several visits he had made to the chateau to see her father. Some seemed like friendly visits, while others sounded like serious trouble was going to, or did happen. 

The Sheriff showed Therese all the investigations that were carried out and the evidence found of a plot to kill her. Therese was satisfied that they had done a thorough job and signed the Royal papers, closing that chapter. It was the next chapter, Therese wasn't sure she wanted to know about. As was the law, Therese was required to watch sentencing and the punishment. For the crimes against her parents and those of others, he was to hang, later that morning.

Ormand brought out the charter and decree by King Henri III, titling Chateau de Trecesson and all its holdings to Therese. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing her new title for the first time, Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. The decree came with instructions to have a new seal made, denoting her new title and have it registered with him to confirm authenticity. 

The up and down day plummeted a final time, as Therese was led by Moreau to the cell, where Leon St. Gilbert was being held. It was her chance to make peace with her feelings, to know if he was repentant for his crimes. Standing in the horrific stench of unwashed criminals, Therese held a scented, linen handkerchief to her face, to ward off the foulness as best she could, as she looked at the man in the cell before her.

"What do you have to say for yourself? Speak up." Moreau shouted at him.

Leon raised his head and looked at Therese standing before him. He looked into her eyes and she could see they held no remorse for his crime against her.

"So you've seen me, now go. I have nothing to say to you, carry out my punishment."

Therese turned away and ran from the cell area and made it to fresh air. Her tears flowed, in hearing her parents lives weren't worth an apology, that her life wasn't worth anything either. Moreau came to her and held her, doing his best to comfort her. He led her back to his office and sat her down, offering her a glass of water. She took it and sipped it, being away from the source of such a misery, diminishing the impact of her distress.

The sound of footsteps marching outside, had their attention turn to look out the window. A small troop of soldiers led Leon from the cell, to the gallows in the courtyard. Silently, Therese watched, as he was bound and hooded, before a noose was placed around his neck, the knot to the side. Therese watched unattached, never witnessing a death before. A priest gave Leon St. Gilbert his last rites and in the suddenness of gravity taking over, the platform fell away and Therese was given an end. A place to begin from now and re-build her life. She turned away from the scene, but felt her heart ease at his passing.

Grayson arose in the morning, weary from little sleep. Since their escape from Inverlochy and the ride to Tioram, he had prepared his men and rode to the clans to warn them of a possible attack by the Earl's men. After dressing, he made his way to Arabella's chambers and knocked quietly on the door. He stood with all hope his friend had made it through the night, beating the odds and cheating death.

The door opened and Arabella ushered him in and bade him to be quiet. He went to her bed and saw Garreth lying there, ashen, yet the faint rise in the covers told of his breathing and his life. 

"He looks bad, Arabella. Do ye think he's going tae make it?" Grayson's thoughts were echoing her own. She had kept a hand on Garreth and made sure of him breathing, while she had rested. 

"He's made it this far, I'm praying God can help him make it all the way."

Arabella's worries were evident on her face. The lack of sleep and constant dread, had brought a sallowness to her. Grayson faired no better, the stress of the past day taking its toll on him as well. He placed a hand on her arm and looked in her eyes, confirming their hopes, dreading their fears. He left and went to the courtyard and assembled the men, while Arabella lay on the bed beside Garreth and gently stroked his hair back from his face, placing a loving kiss on his forehead. She looked at him for a while longer, before placing her head down and closing her eyes, her hand resting lightly against Garreth's body.

After sending the men out to scout the area for the Earl's men, Grayson stood looking at the ground, struggling with the thoughts of his command. With Garreth hovering between life and death, it fell upon him to designate someone to lead the forces Garreth led. His brother, Peadair, had proven himself earlier, when they took the MacRae's at Donan, and felt he would be the best one of all to head the force.

He was lost in thought and wasn't aware of Heather MacDonnell, coming up to him from the keep. Her touch on his shoulder startled him and made him turn quickly, startling her and shortly they were confounding each other with apologizes and embarrassment.

"M'Lady Heather, I'm sorry tae ha'e startled ye like that, ye took me off my guard." Grayson said in overly-caring concern, doing his best to apologize, holding on to her elbows gently.

"I must apologize myself fer coming upon ye as I did, Laird Grayson. I was coming tae let ye know how truly thankful I am fer yer rescue, of me and my tae cousins. I would'ne be standing here before ye noo, had it no been fer yer bravery. I am eternally in yer debit, Grayson."

"It was my honour tae be of service tae ye and yer clan. I only wish we could ha'e been there earlier and stopped them." Grayson hinted at the abuse she endured, while at the hands of the MacRae's. The echoes of her screaming nightmares still paying in his mind. "I have decided it is best tae join the convent in Iona and allow God tae mend my soul and I wanted tae express my gratitude tae ye before I left."

Grayson felt the tearing of her statement in his heart, like cloth being torn apart, as his face went sullen and sad, the happiness fleeing from his eyes, replaced with the reality of his secret thoughts never coming to fruition.

"Grayson, what troubles ye? " Her concern making his despair all the worse.

"I... I... I just wish ye'd stay, Lady Heather." was all Grayson could manage.

"I would stay fer ye, Grayson, if it was yer wish." Heather spoke to his heart, as her hand gently touched him.

Heather's words and touch, rode into Grayson's heart like a horse at full gallop. For all his life, he had watched Heather grow and mature, holding a spot secretly in his heart for her. Hearing her state her reason to stay, made his chest swell with pride, as a smile played happily about his face. Heather could see the effect of her words on him and blushed, knowing she had evoked deeper feelings in him than she had intended, but ones that brought a much-needed happiness to her as well.

Grayson stood grinning, feeling his heart fill with his feelings for Heather and no idea how to express them to her. Heather knew Grayson to be a good man and had always enjoyed his company since they were young. Looking at him now before her, she could see he held a great depth of feeling for her. It had been her hope as well, that they could grow together and possibly wed.

"Lady Heather, it would do my heart a blessing if ye did stay." Grayson's smile blazed, as he saw a dawning of loving hope pass between them. 

Grayson took Heather's hand on his arm, as he led her back into the keep. Lady Anne was sitting with Arabella in the hall, discussing the arrangements for things to be taken back to Donan. The couple walked in and Anne's face took a quick, happy smile, seeing the joy in her daughter's eyes, while Arabella's took a look of surprised happiness, seeing her younger brother experiencing love for the first time. The sounds in the hall became mirthful and happy, a much needed change from the wailing moans of despair and anguish that filled it not too long ago.

"I'm going tae stay at Donan wi' Lady Anne and Lady Heather, tae make sure everything is okay for noo. I'll be there a week and be back. I've left orders wi' Glenn tae watch Camus and go up tae Dunvegan and gi'e Peadair my instructions. Let me know if there's any change in Garreth, as soon as ye can." Grayson told Arabella his plans and she could see there was more to his going, than protection of them.

The day turned brighter than the sun could make it, the smiling faces of the four, filling the room with their own brightness.

At Inverlochy, Douglas Wallace was taking things in hand with every evil intent. He had two of his lieutenants ordered to his office and had them listen to his plans of revenge. Their part was to travel to France and bring Lady Therese back to him. He gave them the papers needed to verify his claim and money for travel. An English galley would be made available to them, to carry out what they needed to do. Two hours after being dismissed, the soldiers were packed and getting ready to sail on the next tide. 

Douglas called in his Captain and ordered him to ride for Ballachulish and have James return with him. The next part of his revenge was against the MacDonald's and MacLeod's, for interfering in his plans to take over Donan and the surrounding lands. Their clans and lands would be under his rule, whether they liked it, or not. He was still contemplating another fate for Laird MacLeod, one that he felt was befitting a man, who stole another man's bride to be away, while accepting his hospitality. Yes, something of like worth in kind, was what Douglas was wanting to do.

Sloan sat with Blain, along the shores of Loch Linnhe, talking of the days to come, when clans would be spilling the blood of each other, while their clan would sit and wait, until a castle was ripe for their taking. They looked up the loch towards Castle Stalker, taking in the vast coastal waters they would control and then they looked inland and discussed how the area would be divided between their clan and any others that joined them. Blain was happy to have Dunollie as his own and Sloan would rule the Seat from Stalker. Their story to MacRae and the others about what happened to the Douglas boys, had played out just as they hoped it would.

Harlan Douglas, a distraught man, did his best to accept the deaths of his son's and kin, listening to the story and understanding the dangers they faced stealing the birlinns. As much as the loss of his kin tore at him, he was also without a birlinn to join in the battle ahead. 

With their birlinns safely stashed in the bushes on their tiny dot of land in the Garvellachs and the one just down the coast from them now, the Fraser's felt assured that victory was theirs to enjoy. The only snag to their plans they hadn't counted on, was the bodies of three Douglas clan members being given up by the An Cailleach, carried by the currents and ending up floating off the coast of Seil. As Fate played a hand with them, the cards were dealt, and they were not in the Fraser's favour. The blackened and bloated bodies of the boys were unrecognizable, but their black and grey tartans told of what clan they were from, the bindings around their feet, told the fishermen, it hadn't been an accidental drowning.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 20



The first birlinns were loaded with men and supplies, plus several horses, then finally, Lady Anne and Lady Heather MacDonnell boarded the last one. Grayson helped the women aboard by genuflecting on one knee and allowing them to use his leg as a step, while Glenn helped his aunt and cousin up and into the boat. Once aboard, Grayson gave the order to sail and waved to them, as they wound along the loch towards open water, the mid-morning sun bright in the cloudless sky.

Grayson turned back and entered the keep, climbing the stairs to Arabella's chamber. Quietly entering, he watched as Arabella dabbed a cool cloth over Garreth's forehead. His colour had started to return, but a fever had accompanied it. His moans gave hope he was pulling through, but the fever added to their worries it would kill him, if the loss of blood didn't.

Grayson bent down and looked closely at his life-long friend, his heart struggling with the thought of losing him. He gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, a hint of tears coming to his eyes, as he silently wished his friend well. Grayson turned to his sister, and looked at her, his hopes that she would help him and make him well again. She took his hand and held it tightly, looking back into his eyes with the same hopes.

"I'll do everything I can, Grayson, but it's God's hand that'll bring him out of this. Go, take Lady Anne and Heather back tae Donan. See tae their needs and make sure they're safe. I'll stay wi' Garreth and send word of any change. Grayson, be strong, dear brother, as much as there is a calm, a storm awaits us on the horizon."

"Aye Bella, that there is. We're preparing everyone the now and ha'e most trained and armed. When they MacRae's come, we'll be ready. I'll go now and take care of Lady Anne and see tae their protection, as well."

"Grayson." Arabella looked at him, with more of a smile crossing her face. "I hope things come about fer ye and Heather. Ye make a good match, so ye do." 

A blush came to Grayson's cheeks, adding to his red aura, as he acknowledged to Arabella that he held strong feelings for her. He smiled wanly and turned to look at Garreth once more, then walked from the room and headed out of the castle. In all the chaos and strife, he found a smile for himself, as he walked to his birlinn. He couldn't help but remember his own words, not too long ago. 'E'en in war, ye never know when love will just come up and slap ye in the face'.

He helped to push the boat out and into the deeper water, before climbing aboard and standing at the prow. The sail was raised and the oars set to, as they made their way out of the loch and on for Donan. Grayson's heart was torn with emotion, all from opposite ends, but all were as powerful in wanting his attention as the other. The bright sunshine had no effect on illuminating the answers he sought, as the voyage brought him closer to one feeling, away from another and one that nagged at him constantly.

The sight of Eilean Donan at the head of the loch, had Grayson feeling anxious at being with Heather again. It stunned him how easily the feelings of love out-weighed the feelings for everything else. As much as he was worried for Garreth, he was eased knowing Arabella was with him at all times. As much as a God-less heathen like James MacRae was, ready to wage war against him and the other clans, he was helpless to stop his heart from wanting to enjoy being with her. All at once, he understood how Garreth was smitten with Therese and did what he did. How the power of love can rule the heart, if given a chance, and make a man defend those feelings.

Grayson's boat was brought into the rocky shore and quickly tied up by several men. He jumped down and greeted the men, as he made his way to the castle, looking at all the preparations being made and life returning to the castle slowly. He walked along the stone, arched bridge, thinking of how to defend it against the MacRae's doing what they had done to take back Donan. The arches made good cover to approach the castle during low tide and it could spell disaster for them. As he stood looking down at the boggy ground, it served him, that he could have men stationed there when the attack began, but how to retreat if they were over-run. He looked back at the wooded area, across from the start of the bridge and a plan of defence started to formulate in his mind.

Heather had seen his birlinn dock and was waiting for him to come into the castle. When he hadn't come into the keep after a short time, she wondered where he was. Seeing him standing on the bridge, she decided to go to him and see why he wasn't coming in. She remembered what happened the last time she came up on him and called out as she approached.

"Laird Grayson, why do ye no come intae the castle? Is there something that troubles ye?" Grayson turned at the sound of Heather's voice and felt the flutters in his stomach go. He smiled happily, seeing her walking up to him.

"Lady Heather, there is something I was thinking of, aboot this bridge. See these arches? This is where Garreth and I attacked from. I was just trying tae come up wi' a plan of making sure the MacRae's don'ne ha'e the same chance at us. I want tae find a way of keeping them off it, or getting under it." Grayson related his thoughts and could see Heather understood. "Did yer father e'er talk aboot doing anything, if ye were attacked, like that?"

Grayson's question had Heather thinking of anything her father might have said, that she had overheard. 

"I remember he was talking tae my mother once about doing something, but my mother thought it was tae barbaric tae do, so he did'ne try it." Grayson heard the words too barbaric and knew it had to be something that would kill many at a time.

"What was it he was planning on doing, Lady Heather?" Heather could see the intense interest in the plan and told him.

"My father wanted tae pour oil along the bridge and wait till they were all on it, then set it afire wi' flaming arras. Same as under these arches. My mother thought it was a horrid way tae do battle, but I think she would change her mind, if she was told of it noo."

Grayson heard the plan and could see how effective a weapon it would be. He pondered it, as he looked over the edge and thought of the defence it would give them. He had no qualms in his heart, about doing it to such murderous men, like the MacRae's. He turned away and allowed Lady Heather to take his arm, as he led her back into the castle. He found the plan fading from importance with every step he took with her, enjoying her closeness and her scent becoming more of interest. 

They came back into the castle grounds, now active as a beehive, with men moving everywhere preparing the castle for attack. He took stock of all that was happening, before he led Heather into the keep and the great hall. Lady Anne was sitting by the fire, holding her husband's sword in her lap. The metal gleamed brightly, where the dried blood of her husband hadn't coated it. Grayson knew that sword was all that was left of the great man, who once held the seat of this castle. 

Heather saw what her mother was looking at and broke away from Grayson. She joined her mother, kneeling at her side and accepting a comforting hug from her. 

"It's all that's left of him. Nothing else." was all she said and both women cried out.

Grayson stood in silence, watching the two women grieve, a stabbing ache coming to his own heart, as he shared in their sorrows. He turned quietly and left them alone and returned to the courtyard, resuming his duties as Commander. He spotted Glenn MacDonnell by the gate with a couple of men, making stronger fortifications to it.

"Glenn, tae me." he called out to him. Glenn ran over, upon his request. "Is there any sign of yer people anywhere? Something we can hold a rite fer and pay oor respects." The words were an instant sadness to his eyes and his head bowed in silent remorse. He said nothing and just shook his head in answer. Grayson laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.

"Listen tae me, Glenn. Fer the indignities they showed yer people, they'll get the same, mark my words. I told ye we'd ha'e oor revenge on them fer this and we shall. I was talking tae Lady Heather and she mentioned something her father wanted tae do during an attack. I want ye tae pay close attention and make ready the necessary means tae carry it oot."

Grayson explained the plan to use whale oil on the bridge and soak the grounds at low tide with it. The more Grayson explained it to him, the quicker his remorse faded and a determined look of vengeance was taking hold. Grayson left him to make preparations to dispense oil on the grounds and prepare barrels for soaking the bridge. 

He climbed up the steep, stone steps to the battlements and walked along the wall, looking at everything done so far. He stopped at a spot that gave him a particularly good view of the land approach and studied it more. He remembered his approach earlier and that of the MacRae's later. They would be prepared for an ambush from the trees, like they did last time, thus eliminating that as an option.

He tried to imagine himself as James MacRae, coming up to Loch Duich from the Kintail Ridge. How would he get his men along the loch and to the castle, without being attacked. The only thing he was seeing, was going through the forest, farther away from the castle and approaching it from the far end. It might be a longer march, but one that carried protection and stealth to reach the castle unseen. He climbed back down and headed towards Glenn again, busy getting oil barrels set up by the gate. 

"Glenn, get yer horse and come wi' me. I want tae go through they woods and see how MacRae could approach if he came that way. I don'ne think they'll just march up like the last time. So what else can they do then, tae get men tae the castle wi'oot being seen?"

Glenn heard Grayson's concerns and turned to look at the woods and the coastline. How would MacRae march his men here? Both sides of the castle's coastline were too open to approach from and they could never land their birlinns safely and get out, without massive casualties. He understood Grayson's concerns, as they headed for their horses.

Riding out of the castle, they turned north and headed along the coast, looking for places the MacRae's could land and move inland without being seen. By the end of Loch Duich, nothing looked viable to move a large force in stealth, so they headed east along the shore of Loch Long. They hadn't gone far, before they came across the cottage of Jacob Dornie. Dismounting, they went to go inside, but the stench of rotting fish and other foods drove them away. Flies swarmed in teems around the inside, the abandoned dwelling providing a safe haven for them to reproduce freely.

"It pains me tae know that man ga'e his life like that, and this is all that's left of him." Grayson said, looking at the squalor that remained.

"My aunt has said she is going tae do something in his honour. She owes her life tae him and his bravery. Whate'er it is, he deserves the best that can be done. At least he was gi'en a warrior's burial in his honour. I'd like tae ha'e gi'en my uncle a proper burial like that."

Glenn's words gave solace to Grayson, knowing Jacob would be honoured properly and also had him feeling something in honour of Hamish MacDonnell must be done, not to just pay homage to the man, but give a comfort to the hearts of those who were still grieving. They re-mounted and continued along the coast, the treeline remaining too dense for an insurgence of troops. Feeling a ride through the woods would settle his thoughts a thousand men couldn't attack from there, he decided to see what it might provide in a way of men coming through to attack in ambush.

They made there way slowly through the woods, getting a feel for how the MacRae's would have to travel through it, to reach the castle. They had only gone a few hundred yards, when the horses started to get skittish of something. Grayson and Glenn halted their progress and searched about for the cause of the horse's nervousness. A dozen feet to the left of where they were, a loud buzzing of swarming flies got their attention and Glenn dismounted to see what it was. While Grayson held the horse's reins, Glenn walked through the underbrush towards the sound. Grayson saw Glenn stop and move a bush aside and stop dead. Before he could ask Glenn what it was, Glenn let out a guttural cry of horror.

"Glenn, what it is?" his concern flaring at what Glenn was looking at.

Without an answer, Glenn sank to his knees and began to sob heavily. Grayson dismounted and rushed to his side, only to see the corpse of Kyle MacDonnell, starting to rot, his face and body covered in a writhing sea of maggots, an arrow still lodged in his chest. Grayson picked his cousin up and led him away from the sight. His heart sank in despair, knowing what this must be doing to Glenn, to see his cousin like that. He made Glenn re-mount and led him back to Donan and away from the horror they had witnessed. Entering the castle, Iain MacDonnell saw them and the state Glenn was in. He came to them quickly, his concern for his older brother growing with each step.

"What is it, Laird Grayson?" he asked, as Grayson helped Glenn dismount.

"Let me tend tae Glenn first." Grayson's face showing the dire state of what he knew.

Grayson and Iain both assisted Glenn into the castle, still sobbing uncontrollably. Iain went and poured a large dose of whisky in a mug and sat it before Glenn. His head was buried in his arms on the table, and both knew he had reached the limit of what a man could stand to see, his family decimated and defiled in death.

Grayson called Robert over, as he saw him passing by. He quietly asked him to stay with Glenn and then he and Iain left the room to talk.

"What is it M'Laird? What's got Glenn in his state?" Iain's need for an answer, one he needed to know.

"Iain, it's no a sight he should ha'e seen. We came across Kyle's body in the woods. It's co'ered in bloody maggots and the stench was enough tae sicken ye. I'll need a few men and a means of carrying him back. We'll need tae clean him up as best we can, before Glenn or anyone else sees him again. He's no fit the way he is."

Iain looked at Grayson with a look of dread, the thought of seeing one of his relatives in that state, but turned and found several men, who went in search of what they could use. Grayson stood looking in the direction of Kyle's body, then turned to look at the keep where Lady Anne was still recovering from her losses. The horrid state that her son was in, would devastate her and he knew it in his heart. He thought of Heather and how she would feel, seeing her only brother that way. He knew he had to bring him home, but never let them lay eyes on him again.

Iain returned with two men and several robes, a ladder and a reluctance to go in each of their eyes. Grayson understood their reluctance to carry out his orders, but it was a task that had to be done, no matter what the personal cost to their souls might be. "We'll need some water, tae wash away the maggots. Ye two go back and fetch a few buckets and bring them tae that area o'er there." Grayson told the two men, pointing in the direction where Kyle lay.

The men ran back, while Grayson and Iain piled everything onto the ladder and walked into the woods. Once they made it to Kyle, Iain smelled the stinging, stench of death, long before he laid eyes on him. Grayson felt the other end of the ladder drop and turned to see Iain vomiting into the bushes. He himself felt queasy enough, but steeled himself to carry out the task, to let Kyle have a proper tribute to his life.

Grayson heard the two men approaching and had them stop short of seeing Kyle. The apprehension eased on their faces seeing Iain vomiting, knowing they would be spared the gruesome sight. Grayson picked up two of the four buckets of water and brought them to Kyle's body. The writhing mass obliterated any sign of flesh, their mass constantly increasing. He threw the first bucket of water on him, seeing a large majority of them being washed away. He threw the second on him and it cleared away enough maggots, that he could see the remains of Kyle's face, no longer recognizable from the deterioration.

Grayson's eyes went wide in shock and was no longer able to stop himself from throwing up. Iain and the other two men stood in quiet terror, afraid to know what Grayson had seen. Grayson wiped his mouth clear of his vomit and steeled himself once more to finish what had to be done. He picked up the third bucket and slowly poured it, letting more and more of the maggots wash off the body. The water increased the smell of putrefaction and Grayson pulled his tunic up over his nose, in hopes to stave off the smell.

He poured the last bucket over him and was satisfied, enough of the maggots were off of him, before he pulled the arrow from his chest and tossed it into the woods. He grabbed a branch and broke it off, using the leaves as a make-shift broom, sweeping the writhing horde away. He waved for the men to bring the ladder and robes over to him, and seeing their hesitancy, he gave them a look of rage-filled command to obey, as he pointed at them to come to him. They picked up the ladder and came around the bushes, at once seeing the sight and horror swept across their faces.

"Drop the ladder and go back. Iain, tae me." Grayson told them, knowing they were useless to command.

Quickly they dropped it and ran back to their original spot. Iain slowly made his way over, knowing something of an extremely horrid nature awaited him. Edging his head around the bush, he caught his first glimpse of his cousin, at first not seeing what the horror was, until he saw that Kyle's face was completely eaten away. He went to turn and run, but Grayson shouted loudly enough to stop him.

"Stop! Don't lose it, Iain. Get a hold of yerself and help me, I can'ne do this by myself." Grayson tried to use strength, as well pleading, in his voice for Kyle, to persuade him to commit to moving again. Iain moved slowly, his eyes staying away from the sight and trained on Grayson's, as he came closer.

"That's it, Iain, just look at me and I'll help ye do it." Grayson urged him forward to him and took a hold of his shoulders.

"Ye don't need tae look at him Iain, I'll guide yer hands. Close them and just do as I say."

Grayson could see Iain was close to breaking down in tears, but was holding himself together to show his strength and overcome his fear. 

"Close yer eyes Iain, I'll tell ye what tae do."

Grayson's words seemed to make the difference and Iain allowed himself to be positioned in front of the corpse, as he kept his eyes squeezed, as tightly as he could. Grayson looked at the two and told them to fetch two long branches to use. They ran off quickly, scouring the ground, just happy to be doing anything other than be near death in that state. Soon they were back with branches stout and long enough and cleared the shafts of any small branching. 

Grayson came to them and took the poles, sparing them once again. He slid one pole under Kyle's body and then the other. He lifted them slowly, turning Kyle to his side. Once he felt he was over enough, he put the poles in Iain's hands. Iain held them perfectly still, as Grayson pulled the ladder over and quickly spread a robe over it. He took the poles from Iain and lowered Kyle onto the ladder. Sliding the poles out slowly, he tossed them aside and threw the next couple of robes over him to cover him completely.

"Alright, he's co'ered. Ye can open yer eyes Iain and ye two, come here." he told the two men.

They came slowly and stood looking at the covered body, the smell still over-whelming their senses.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 20



"Each of ye, take a corner and we'll carry him doon tae the loch and see if we can wash more of they things off, before we take him tae the castle. Ye've seen what he's like. We can'ne let his mother and sister see him, but fer God's sake, no one should see any of they things creeping aboot him. I know this is hard on ye's, but we must pay oor respects tae the man, as befits him. He was tae be yer Chief soon enough, wasn't he. This is the only MacDonnell left, tae be able tae pay tribute wi'. Glenn's in a state as it is, so is Lady Anne and Heather. We need tae do oor best fer them and let them all ha'e some peace."

Grayson's words hit home, that they owed a debit of respect to Kyle, as well as his mother and sister. Pulling themselves together as much as possible, the two men took the front rungs, while Grayson and Iain took the rear. They walked slowly towards Loch Long, as far away from sight of the castle as they could. Remembering where they were, Grayson knew Jacob Dornie's cottage was close by.

"Head fer Jacob's place, we can keep him there. I'm starting tae get an idea hoo this might turn oot alright, fer everyone."

Iain looked over at Grayson, trying to figure what he had in mind. They trudged on a few more hundred feet until they broke from the woods and were standing behind the cottage. 

"Put him doon here, men. Ye two, stay wi' him, Iain, come wi' me." Grayson led Iain towards the cottage and soon the smell of decay was prevalent in the air again. The closer they came, the slower Iain walked.

"I know Iain, it's awfy bad, but we need tae get the fish and other things oot that smell. Co'er yer nose as best ye can. Take one good breath and hold it if ye need tae. Just gi'e me a hand and it'll be done fast."

Iain nodded his head, knowing it was only rotten food and not another dead body that awaited him. Both he and Grayson took deep breaths and went into the swarming flies. They grabbed as many things that were attracting them, as they could. They ran outside and tossed them into the loch, taking most of the swarm with them. Once more they took breaths and went inside. Grayson grabbed more fish, while Iain took the breads and grains and they ran to the loch once more. Tossing everything out as far as they could, they turned and looked at the cottage.

"Why did we do that, Laird Grayson?" Iain asked in puzzlement.

"This is where we are going tae pay a final tribute tae all the MacDonnell's and Jacob Dornie, all at once."

Iain wasn't sure what Grayson had in mind, but if meant he didn't have to carry Kyle any further, he was for it. Grayson walked to the back of the cottage with Iain and the four picked Kyle up and brought him to the shore. 

"Stephen, go and fetch that broom just inside the door tae the left. Take a breath before ye go in, it's bad." Grayson ordered him, setting more dread into his eyes.

"There's nothing in there Stephen, just a smell." Iain assured him. Stephen walked slowly towards the cottage and took a deep breath, before going in. He looked where he was told and hurried back with the broom.

"Noo, go back wi' Athol and stay there, until I call fer ye's."

"I'll need ye tae help me undress Kyle and get all they things off him, Iain. I know it'll be a sight that'll gi' ye horrors in yer sleep, but God will bless ye fer doing this." he said to him, standing over Kyle's covered body. 

"Och, M'Laird, I don'ne know if I can. The sight of him before, nearly drove me mad." Iain's reluctance to see it again, well understood by Grayson.

Grayson laid his arm over Iain's shoulder and shook him slightly.

"This is what makes ye a man from a boy, Iain. It's one thing tae kill a man, its another, when ye see what killing does tae him. I'm no taken wi' this task either, but it's fallen on oor shoulders tae do it and we must do it. Noo, ready yerself and let's get Kyle undressed and cleaned."

Despite his fears and loathing of what he was asked to do, Iain nodded his head reluctantly and crouched with Grayson above the body. Both pulled their tunics up over their noses and held them tight to their faces, as they put their hands on the first robe and peeled it off. They took the second one away and as they bared the remains. Iain fell backwards, but Grayson helped him up and with tears in both their eyes, they took hold of the hem of Kyle's tunic and pulled it up his body. It was covered in the writhing mass and as soon as he seen it, Iain vomited once again to his side. Grayson comforted him, knowing what he was feeling himself, was just as painful to the soul and more for Iain.

Grayson put the broom handle under Kyle's back and rolled him into the water, the maggots floating to the surface and drifting away. Iain was inwardly happy to see them leave and hoped all of them would magically disappear off the body. Grayson unwrapped the kilt and let it fall open, then swished the broom over his body, sweeping away any more. 

"Iain, wash oot his kilt and tunic and lay them on the racks back there, tae dry, I'll finish washing Kyle."

Grayson couldn't have given an order he wanted to follow anymore than that one. Looking at the two choices of what needed to be done, washing clothes was far easier to do, than touching a dead body. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he took the kilt and first swished it in the water, making sure it was rid of anything moving, before giving it a scrub with a smooth rock and sand to remove as much dirt and blood as he could. He carried it quickly to the rack and wrung out all the water, before he hung it. He ran away from it and exhaled his breath, taking in clearer air again. He came back and took the tunic and scrubbed it as clean as he could, before hurrying to the rack and wringing it out and hanging it. Once again, he dashed for distance and clean air.

He came back and washed his hands, then looked at Grayson, holding Kyle underwater, throwing sandy gravel on him, while gently using the broom to scrub him. Shreds of skin were peeling away, along with the dirt, decay and blood, but Grayson continued, until Kyle was as clean as he could make him. Iain looked at his hands shake and knew how painful it was for him to have to do that. Grayson rolled Kyle back, face up, but kept him under, the distortion of rippling water disguising what was actually there. Grayson turned to Iain, a tortured pain written on his face.

"We'll put the ladder under him when I let him go. Are ye ready?" Grayson choked out, he himself about to lose his sanity, trying to deal with the horror of the moment.

Iain slowly nodded, seeing the painful look in Grayson's eyes, reflect the same strike to the soul in them, that he was feeling. He shared in Grayson's strength of conviction, to pay all the respect due to Kyle, regardless of the personal cost and took hold of the ladder and positioned it along the body. When he felt it was ready, Grayson let Kyle go and he started to float up, the reality of him returning to focus. They slid the ladder under him and took the ends. Together they lifted him up and carried him back to the cottage. The smell wasn't quite as bad, but Iain was glad he was in the front and his back to what he carried.

"Take him in... lay... him on... the table,... Iain." Grayson told him, gagging on his own words. 

They entered in and lowered the ladder on the table with care. Iain dashed out once more and thankfully took as much air in as he could. Grayson stood beside him and clapped him on the back, drawing in a fresh breath as well, gaining as much from the cleansing as he could. Once he composed himself enough, he looked at the state of Iain and saw how beaten he was, battered from the inside.

"Ye've done a great deed t'day, Iain. More than ye know. That took more courage tae do, than swing a sword at somebody. God will grant ye a place at his side, fer the honour ye ha'e bestowed. I'll go in and co'er him wi' the robes again, ye go o'er wi' Stephen and Athol and wait."

Iain bowed his head again, this time feeling more of the pride in his service done, than fear and loathing of his cousin's body. He turned and walked away, while Grayson went and gathered the robes and took a deep breath before entering again. He laid the robes over Kyle carefully, but with all the haste he could, battling against his own churning need to vomit once more. He finished and hurried out. gasping for a breath of air. He walked to the water and took sand and washed his hands, as clean as he felt he could get them, eventually making them red raw. He stood and turned to the cottage, imagining in his mind the sort of tribute he could do for the MacDonnell's and Jacob Dornie. It behoved him to know what he could do, his desire to make fulfilment to an honour owed. He turned to the water in front of him and nothing but a small dot of sandy island and a semi-causeway, like Tioram, going to it, held any note.

He walked back and re-joined the others, stopping short, as he noticed they all looked at him in reverence. Before them stood a large, flaming, red haired man of six foot five, the strength and might of him visibly displayed in his size, yet the light blue of his eyes, held a stunning contradiction of gentleness in them. Almost as one, they crossed their hearts with their fists and bowed to him. 

Each of them knew in their hearts, they had witnessed greatness in a man. Grayson understood and gathered them in his arms and hugged them as his family, sharing the sense of the bonding moment, then they released and started walking back along the coast to Donan. Not a word was spoken by any, the distance immeasurably long in their minds. Grayson felt the weight of burden falling upon his shoulders, as he tried to think of a way of telling Lady Anne and Heather about Kyle. The torture to his own soul and spirit were taking its toll on him. He turned his eyes skyward and prayed for the strength to complete his task, knowing in his heart, he was shaken to the core.

*************************************

Argus finished the telling of awe-struck horror and valour, taking the last shortbread finger and dipping it into his drink. The room was silent, still agog at what they had heard. Stuart could see how it affected them and stood.

"Well, that was'ne quite the after-dinner tale I was wanting, Argus. Do ye think ye could of toned it down a wee bit and no been so graphic. I must say, it does'ne sit well after dinner, tae hear that. I think a break is in order here and a chance tae clear that image away from oor heads, before I take o'er."

"Maybe so, Stuart, but it was'ne all fun and games wi' swords and knives. People died and that is what happened after. I had tae tell that, so I could tell of what happened afterwards." Argus explained the reality of life then, to him and then all, steadfast in his judgement to tell it.

"As much as that was so, I think we should break here and calm oorselves, and I'll take o'er wi' Therese's problems afterwards." Stuart said, with the same churning feelings in his stomach as everyone else, then looked at Argus with a distressed smile and patted his shoulder, as everyone started walking past. 

It took no other persuasion for the guests to leave the castle and seek some fresh air, the late, spring night still warm. Tom and Deb stood with some of the others in the courtyard and recounted what Argus had told them and it was agreed by all, that even though there were horrors in death, the pride and honour of the men showed through. The topic of conversation was quickly turned back to Garreth and Therese and what was happening with them, the queasy feelings rapidly being quelled and a sense of ease soon came back to everyone's faces.

Inside, Stuart was quietly discussing the next part of the telling with Argus and what he wanted to say. It was his hope of not upsetting everyone with Argus' penchant for the dramatic effect. He asked to do it himself, the possibility of further grief being avoided. Argus accepted Stuart's offer to tell it and was happily looking for more of his favourite treats to enjoy instead. 

"I'm going tae start charging ye fer those, Argus." Stuart laughed, amazed at how much he wanted to eat the savoury, wee fingers of delight. "Should I ha'e them bake another batch, just fer ye?" he joked.

Argus looked up and smiled happily at him and nodded. "Ta", as a wide grin came across his face. 



Blood of the Clans Ch. 21



The trip back from Paris, left Therese with the first chance to understand what her freedom was. She sat in the carriage happily smiling, looking out at the countryside passing by and began to realize what Leon St. Gilbert's hanging truly meant to her. Her life was now free of danger, no more did she have to worry about being killed, no more did she have to worry about losing her beloved Chateau and estate and no longer did she have to dread spending her life with Douglas Wallace, fourth Earl of Huntly.

She was more than thrilled to actually meet Princess Marie, who presented her with her title and charter. Her afternoon with her was the highlight of the entire event. To know that her seal of approval was still in effect gave her heart more than enough peace to know all would be well.

She held the charter, declaring her title and possession to Chateau de Trecesson in her hands and felt the comfort of the words written on it. The air smelled sweeter now, than the ride into Paris, the sky bluer and the sun shone brighter. The more she thought about her life now, the more it seemed a dream come true. Her smile never seemed so full on her face, as she touched her cheeks and felt the delight in being alive, truly alive.

The carriage turned onto the bridge over the moat and Therese waved to the men guarding the entrance. The men saluted her at attention, performing it in perfect unison, yet smiles were seen on their faces. The whole of Trecesson was jubilant at Therese's success. The carriage pulled to the entrance of the hall and stopped. Giles, the head of staff for as long as Therese could remember, came and helped her alight from the carriage. 

"Welcome back, Lady Therese." his smile prominent, as he bowed to her.

"Oh Giles, it is good to be back. I have missed this wonderful place and all of you. I am going to change and go for a ride and see the estate. Please have Estelle made ready and I will be back shortly. Merci, Giles." Therese found it hard to command her people, and treated them more as her family members.

"As you wish Lady Therese, it will be my pleasure."

Giles bowed in his most gracious manner, as Therese hurried inside to change. As she disrobed, she caught her reflection in the full-length dressing mirror. There, just starting to fade was the outline of the bull's head on her calf. She stopped and placed her fingers to her lips and gently touched them to it. Therese could feel her heart fluttering at the thought of being with Garreth MacLeod, being his wife and bearing his children. 

She dressed in her bright, green riding dress and matching wide-brimmed hat, wanting to make sure she wasn't exposed too much to the hot sun. She checked herself in the mirror once more and walked briskly back outside. Giles was standing ready with Estelle, her light, brown mare, as she came over to them. She patted her muzzle and cooed to her softly, enjoying the closeness to her. Estelle snorted softly and nuzzled against her, enjoying her Mistress' presence again.

"She's missed you M'Lady. She's longed for you to be riding with her again." Giles informed her, as he helped her mount up.

Therese brushed the well-groomed coat of Estelle's neck with her hand and loved the feeling of the strength in muscle, but truly enjoyed her gentle nature. She climbed the short booster stairs and sat upon her sidesaddle, horse and rider enjoying the feel of each other again.

"I'll be back for a meal around dusk, Giles. Have the staff meet in the hall at that time. I wish to speak to everyone and let them know of the plans I have been thinking of." Therese told him and as he bowed his head to her, she started off out the courtyard. 

She turned left and rode along the road, back the way she had come, wanting to see the how the vineyards were doing this year, the vinegars and oils being a large portion of her income. Estelle cantered along the road, taking Therese along familiar routes, knowing the way without being led.

The galley had landed early that morning and the two lieutenants made their way into St Brieuc. They purchased horses at the livery, as well as directions to Campeneac, their mission for the Earl underway. They followed the route towards their destination, unable to stop looking at the splendour of France. For all its beauty though, they were focused on what they had to do.

As Therese rode north towards Mauron, on her way to the next vineyard, the lieutenants were just just making their way past it, riding on the same road towards her. Therese stopped, when she saw Pierre St Germain, the head of the vineyard, coming out of the fields. While she talked to him about how the crops were doing this year, the two lieutenants passed her.

The one soldier closest to her, recognized her and turned to his partner, to let him know they had just passed her. They rode on a bit further and rounded a bend in the road and stopped, as soon as they were out of sight. They kept an eye on her to see where she went to afterwards. Their goal was to get her, with no knowledge she had been taken. With the time then being late afternoon, this would make their escape with her easier, under the cover of night.

Therese bid Pierre a farewell and started off up the road again. The two soldiers waited until Pierre was back in the fields again, before riding back past him. They stayed behind Therese, just out of ear-shot, waiting until they were away from anyone seeing them. As they neared the village of Mauron again, they knew the road and the route to get back to the galley. Up ahead was a grove of oak trees lining the road, providing a perfect place to grab her unseen.

They urged their horses to a gallop and were upon in her in a minute. Therese was unaware of their approach, as she looked ahead and day-dreamed of her new plans for the estate. They came up on either side of her, as the one on her riding side caught her attention, the other took the reins from her hands and broke them into a full gallop again.

With no way to stop them, she clung to Estelle and started to scream out in terror, the memory of her prior attack still vividly fresh in her memory. With the need to be as quiet as they could about their kidnapping, the soldier holding the reins, reined back and stopped them. Without anymore thought than the need for silence, the other drew his dirk and used the heel of it to club Therese hard over the back of her head, her screams ending immediately.

Therese fell forward and the other soldier caught her and pulled her face first over his legs and held her.

"William, are ye mad? The Earl will ha'e yer head fer this. She was'ne tae be harmed." his face a mix of anger and worry.

"And what are we supposed tae do, John, ride back tae the galley wi' her screaming like that?" he said back with indifference to his worries.

John thought about it momentarily and shrugged his shoulders, knowing there wasn't any other choice to be made. They started off again, taking as much care to avoid being spotted by anyone. The setting sun cast long shadows over the landscape, a beam made it through the trees and illuminated the bright green riding hat laying on the road.

Estelle stayed with the other horses, keeping as close to Therese as she could. The soldiers broke her away from them, beating and kicking at her, as she bit back at them. Estelle stopped and stood in the road, looking at her Mistress disappearing over a rise, the slowly turned and trotted back towards the chateau, a route she knew all too well.

As night was approaching, the gates at Trecesson opened and a riderless Estelle trotted back in and stood by the stable, stamping her hoof on the ground. The livery hand rushed across the courtyard and yelled into the chateau's large hall for Giles. Hearing his approach, he relayed what had happened. They both came out to see Estelle in a frantic state, clearly in distress about something. Giles hurried to her and with a gentle knowing hand, calmed her enough to stand still.

"Where is your Mistress, Estelle? Where is Lady Therese?"

Estelle responded, as if she understood and pulled on the reins for Giles to go with her. Giles sensed what she wanted him to do and mounted her, letting her lead on. Estelle rode back along the road she had come and in less than an hour, was stopping beside Therese's hat, lying on the road. Giles dismounted and picked it up, seeing a few drops of blood on the underside of the brim.

His heart sank in great despair immediately, knowing something dire had happened to Therese. He frantically searched the roadside and into the fields on both sides, before he continued riding along the road, hoping to find Therese up ahead. He stopped and asked everyone he met if he they had seen her, showing them the hat and asking if they had seen a lady in a matching coloured dress. No one had seen her and his hopes were sinking in finding her. Giles continued on, eventually coming upon workers, heading back to Chateau de la Touche-Trebay, carrying their tools home from the fields.

"Have you seen a lady wearing a dress in this colour come past?" he asked them frantically.

"Oui, I saw a woman lying over the back of a horse, with a dress like that. Not more than two hours ago, heading towards St, Brieuc." one worker told him, pointing in the direction they were headed, the others nodding in agreement with what he said.

"Merci, merci beaucoup." Giles thanked him quickly and sped off now towards the coast. 

The fourteen mile ride was made with all haste, arriving in the village well after light had gone. He rode to the coast and searched at every turn, to catch a sight of Therese. As he passed a fisherman mending his net by lantern light, he saw him look hard at the hat he was carrying.

"You there, do you recognize this hat?" Giles asked with hope that he did.

"Oui, Monsieur. I saw a lady wearing a dress of the same colour, being brought onto a galley, not more than an hour ago. She was not awake from what I could see. It sailed away towards the coast of Brittain." he told Giles, relating all he knew.

"Did you see who it was that took her? What did they look like?" Giles asked. desperate for any and all information he could get.

"I did not recognize them, but they were Ecossais. I heard them speaking to one another, as they boarded. They came and left with all haste." he told Giles, with a dawning he was privy to something of great importance.

"Is there anything else you can remember, anything that can help me?" Giles pled with him.

"Non, that is all I remember of them." he told Giles, sorry he couldn't be of more assistance to him.

Giles thanked him and turned Estelle to go, after looking out at the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of a sail.

"Excuse-moi, Monsieur, un moment, the boat they were sailing was a galley, with a dark blue sail, with two gold stripes down each side." He offered up with hopes it meant something.

"Merci, merci tres beaucoup, Monsieur." Giles said with great thanks and rode back into the village.

"Bon chance." the fisherman called after him, hoping what he knew, would help him save the Lady.

He rode to the local Sheriff's office, only to find it was closed. Frantically he looked about for a direction to go. He stopped a villager on her way home and asked where the Sheriff lived. She pointed down the road and gave directions to the house he lived in. Giles 

thanked her quickly and sped off in the direction given. He found the house as she described and rode straight for the door. He dismounted quickly and left Estelle untethered, as he pounded frantically on the door.

A sour-faced Sheriff Louis Ugliat opened it, bothered by the intrusion to his personal time.

"Oui, what is it you want?" he asked Giles, a look of annoyance to him.

"I must make a report of my Lady being kidnapped, Monsieur. Not more than an hour ago, she was seen by a fisherman being taken aboard a galley and sailing for Brittain. She is in great danger and you must help me get her back." Giles told him in breath-less desperation.

"How do you know she was kidnapped? She could have left on her own." the Sheriff queried, wanting to have proof of his claim.

"Look, Monsieur, there is blood on her hat, here." he told him, pointing to the blood drops on the brim.

Ugliat had all the evidence he needed to believe Giles' claims. He ran back in and collected his arms and official jacket, not bothering to do it up properly. They mounted their horses and were soon riding back to the coast. Giles saw the fisherman at his boat, putting the mended net back into it. The Sheriff hailed him as he rode up. The fisherman came to them, recognizing Giles and Louis. 

After a thorough questioning and a repeat of what he had told Giles already, Louis and Giles turned and rode back to his office. He asked Giles all he knew about the events leading up to her kidnapping, wanting to know who could be behind it. Giles related all he knew from the attempted over-throw, to Lady Therese's telling of her stay in Scotland and her break in engagement to the Earl of Huntly. Hearing of her recent title and status, it became a grievous matter of the utmost importance to him. Knowing it was a matter that needed to be handled by someone above his station, he summoned a deputy to him, from the back by the stable.

Ugliat hastily wrote up a dispatch and instructed him to ride through the night with all speed to his superior in Rennes, Ormand Moreau, almost sixty miles away. He knew this action to warrant the attention of the King and also wanting help in handling it.

Therese came to and stirred, the rocking of the boat bringing her around. At first she was confused by everything. She was in complete darkness and then held her hand out and felt the tarpaulin over top of her. All she could hear was the splashing of waves on the bow and the wind pushing the sail. Trying to gain her wits, she struggled to remember what had happened. In an instant, the large bump on the back of her head started throbbing and she reached back to touch it. She cried out in pain, alerting the two soldiers to her awakening.

"Ye didn't kill her, William. At least ye won't hang." John told him, upon seeing the movement and hearing Therese's cry of pain. "Ye'll be lucky if yer not in jail tho'. Did ye ha'e tae bash her so hard?"

"Like I said, John, did ye want her screaming all the way tae the galley? What was I tae do instead?" William retorted, supporting his decision.

William sat at the helm and guided the boat along the coast of Wales to starboard and ignored John's looks of upset at him. John pulled the tarpaulin off of Therese and helped her to sit up.

"Are you alright M'Lady? Are ye hurt bad?" John asked her with a concern in his tone.

"My head is pounding in pain. There is a bump on my head as well." Therese told him, feeling the back of her head. She brought it around and a small smear of blood was on her fingers. "I am bleeding as well. Messieurs, what are you doing with me? Why have you taken me from my home?" Therese looked at both for answers as to what was 

happening. 

John cut a swatch of tarpaulin away and soaked it in sea water. He handed it to Therese who applied it to her head and then screamed in pain.

"That hurts my head worse than the pain I am feeling." she said to him and threw the swatch overboard. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded again.

John looked at William for a decision to tell her and he just shrugged and left it to John to decide. John looked at Therese's questioning eyes and told her.

"We're taking ye back tae the Earl, so ye can be married. He was very upset at reading yer letter tae him. I have a contract here wi' me, that states yer intentions tae betroth his Lordship. It's signed by him and yer Mother, so it's a binding agreement." John told her straight out.

Tears welled in Therese's eyes at hearing of her destination and what lay at the end of her journey. Nothing could be more injurious to her mind, then being with that man another moment. All her dreams and hopes vanished like puffs of smoke, the reality now a grim reminder of the life she once dreaded. 

As the galley made its way up through the Irish Sea in the late afternoon, the Isle of Man could be seen far off in the distance. John turned back after seeing it and smiled at William.

"That's the Isle of Man ahead, William. We pass that and we're in Scottish waters. We're nearly back already. We've had fair winds fer the journey back. If we're lucky, we should be able tae make the castle by mid-day the morrow, if we stop there and leave at first light. If we ha'e the same good winds as the noo, maybe sooner." John smiled at him, then saw the look of despair wash over Therese's face, as she head the news.

William found a chance to smile. He wanted nothing more than to stop sailing and put his feet on firm ground again. He had been sailing non-stop, as were the instructions to him by the Earl, since they left St. Brieuc. He knew enough to sail a boat, but he was a soldier, who enjoyed the feel of a horse under him, instead of water.

As dusk started to fall, they made their way to the north end of the Calf of Man and pulled into a sheltered inlet. It provided a safe haven from the waves, as well as privacy. No one lived on the small island, making it the perfect place to spend the night. They set the fore and aft mooring lines and secured the birlinn for the night.

The men pulled out robes that were wrapped in an oilskin, keeping them dry. They gave one to Therese and told her to make her self comfortable to sleep, as they wouldn't be leaving the boat. As Therese tried to lay on the hard wood bench and find some comfort, John took a length of rope and tied her foot to the mast. Therese wanted to rebel, but there was no use in trying to fight the inevitable. She closed her eyes and her mind seemed to play backwards, to her trip away from Scotland just a week ago. The feelings of leaving Douglas Wallace behind that made her happy, were now the feelings of dread, at spending her life with him.

As sleep finally came, her thoughts fell to Garreth and Arabella. How she wished for a miracle from God to see them both again. How she wished Garreth would sail up and vanquish her captors and rescue her. How she wished to see her friend and sister of her heart, Arabella.

Dawn had her awakened, to the feel of the rope being untied from her foot. She threw off the robes and sat up, her head still hurting from the blow. Her mouth was dry and her throat sore, from the salt spray.

"May I have a drink of water? I have not had anything to eat or drink since yesterday." Therese reminded them.

William handed her a skin filled with fresh water and she drank from it greedily, spilling 

water down the sides of her mouth. She finished and crudely wiped her mouth dry, enjoying the feeling of slaking her thirst. The men took a long drink and took out some dried meat for them to eat. Therese took one bite of the salty meat and spat it back out and handed it back to John. The two men happily chewed away, as they readied the galley for the final leg of their journey.

"Just a little o'er two hundred miles and we'll be pulling intae Inverlochy. I'll be glad tae be back. As much as oor sail gives us protection in those waters we sailed, it affords us nothing, as we head north. I wish the Earl had gi'en us a boat wi' a plain sail no one recognizes. This is an royal sail we're flying and I worry about they Irish. They hate the Royals as much as the English and raid their ships constantly." William informed them.

"Stop yer worrying, William. Stay close tae oor side and we'll be alright." John told him, his words spoken with surety in them.

The galley pulled out of the small inlet and headed back to open waters and the strong channel currents and winds. Soon once again, they were making great speed towards home. The morning sun warmed their faces, as the cool winds chilled them. The narrowing passage between the two countries was just over twenty miles across and William was keeping too close to the Irish coast for John's liking.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 21



"William, we need tae be closer tae Scotland. I don't want tae face those Irish. They'll kill us, as sure as I'm standing here, if they get us." John's worries were evident on his face, knowing them from the tales told, of those who were lucky enough to escape and survive. 

"I will. I'm just trying tae get the best winds that we can, tae shorten oor trip, or do ye want tae sail longer then ye need tae?" William tried to assure him what he was doing was in their best interest.

He was sailing five miles off the coast of Ireland, approaching Belfast Bay, before he pushed the tiller slightly to port and headed them back towards Scottish land. They passed a tiny speck of land, Mew Island, and paid no mind to it. It would be their biggest mistake not to.

Sitting on the side rails of the birlinn, were Sorley Boy MacDonnell, his brother Colla and son Randal, along with fourteen men that made up the crew. They were biding their time and watching the sea traffic for signs of unwanted English ships and boats. It wasn't hard to see the dark, blue sail with gold stripes and know a royal boat had sailed into unfriendly waters. They liked nothing better than ridding the area of any and all Englishmen and royals.

Therese was first to see the sail behind them and became nervous. William saw the look on her face and craned his head around to look back. At first he didn't see the light blue of the sail, against the backdrop of the sky, then he saw the breaking waves against the bow and knew it was trouble.

"John, we ha'e a problem."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 22



"Uncle Stuart, are you saying the Irish were involved in the fighting as well?" Tom asked him.

"Aye Tom, the Irish in question were the relatives of Laird Hamish MacDonnell, as well as descendants of the MacDonald's. They had a few castles on the north-east coast, one called Kinbane Castle, which means 'White Headlands', because of the white limestone of the area, another being Dunluce Castle, which was a bit farther doon the coast from it and yet another on Rathlin Island. The area's quite popular noo, being as it's right beside the Giant's Causeway and Bushmill's Distillery. Their favourite place tae patrol from was Mew Island. They would lie in wait for anything English tae sail by and attack it. That other place, Rathlin Island, has a sad history tae it too."

"Although they weren't very tight-knit, they were still MacDonnell's and took great offence at any of their clan being treated badly." Tavish interjected and nodded to Stuart he was done.

"Actually, they're all descendants of yer's Tavish. Does anyone know what Mac and Mc and O mean in a name?" Almost everyone shook their heads, or shrugged that they didn't. "Only four of ye's? Really? It means son of. Donald, was the Lord of the Isles and his descendants were the MacDonald's, or in Irish spelling, Donnell, and of course, MacDonnell. The Irish O'Donnell's are descendants of those MacDonnell's. Sorley Boy is a descendant of the Scottish Chief Alexander MacDonnell, who was the Lord of Islay and Kintyre, at the time. Sorley came tae Ireland tae lay claim tae the north-east part in his clan's name. He was the one who established the clan MacDonnell's of Antrim."

Stuart could see amazement at this new development in the story and smiled to himself, enjoying the way his clan, family and friends, were taking to their history and other clans as well.

"Let me tell ye's a bit aboot Sorley Boy. At one time he was in favour of the English and accepted their inroads, tae them being in Ireland. It was Queen Elizabeth the first that put an end tae that. In an effort tae bring him under control, they chopped off the head of his son, Alastar and nailed it above the gate of Dublin Castle. Well, ye can imagine what that would do tae a man. Sorley looked at his son's head and proclaimed, "My son hath many heads," and proceeded tae take oot his revenge.

The other thing that set the man off, tae hating the English, happened not long before this. The English were trying tae stop Sorley from taking control of County Antrim, so, while Sorley and his men were in Ballycastle, on the mainland, the English raided the castle on Rathlin island and took all the people there prisoner. In a show of brutality, tae force them tae surrender tae their rule, they gathered up everyone and I mean everyone. Soldiers, villagers, women and children, the lot and at sword point, pushed them off the cliff, tae the rocks below. Sorley and all his men stood in the castle and watched them do it. So tell me, how much ye'd all hate the English, after seeing that?"

Claire MacDonald was the first to speak out. "Aye that's right, Stuart. That did happen like that. I remember from oor history classes, we studied aboot it. That was a vile thing tae do tae people. I mean, I know men were slashing and killing each other, but tae do that tae innocent people, children no less, that just showed the mentality of them. There was no respect paid tae anyone or anything then. Clans just did what they wanted tae and be damned what it did tae people. Och, e'en King James could'ne control his lands then. Then ye've got every one else trying tae put their hat in the ring. The English wanted tae rule us, as well as the Irish. The French wanted tae ha'e an alliance wi' us and e'en the Spanish as well."

Sloan MacLeod slipped in the question that was puzzling them all, before Stuart responded to Claire. "Stuart, why did they call him Sorley Boy?"

"Ye don't know Sloan? I thought ye did. Boy, then, meant fair-haired, Sorley is Celtic fer Charlie. In fact, Sorley's nickname was, 'Yellow Haired Charlie'. And Claire, ye're absolutely right aboot that. The whole place was lawless. I think it would take at least a month of weekends like this, tae tell the whole story. E'en what went on hundreds of years before this, is worth the telling." Stuart found himself feeling a good telling of the history of his clan and the others was well worth the time and money spent, to share it with all the clans and keep the history of it all alive for generations to come. "Okay, before we get tae intae the Irish history of it, I want tae get back tae what was happening wi' Therese, or do ye's care noo?"

In an instant, the calls came out to finish telling what happened to Therese, the calls made by both men and women. Tom let Deb snuggle into him again, some of the other men encouraging their wives to do the same. Stuart smiled broadly at the rapt attention and enjoyment all of it was getting. He quickly saluted his guests with his drink and took a sip, before clearing his throat and starting in. 

*******************************************

William worked the sail for all he could get out of it, but the speed of the lighter birlinn, also being rowed by sixteen men, was much faster. William headed across the sea towards the Mull of Kintyre, in an attempt to make land and run for it, not knowing it was Sorley's father's seat of power. Therese sat and watched, as the birlinn drew closer to them, the fear and dread of the unknown, worse than the reality. She clenched her fists so tight, the nails dug into her palms and caused her to bleed.

John kept watch of everything in front of them, looking to the shore for a quick place to land and get out. In his mind, he was prepared to leave Lady Therese behind and save his own life, knowing how savage the Irish MacDonnell's were from the tales he'd heard. He looked back and saw the birlinn less than a hundred yards back and quickly looked back to shore, trying to judge the distances and their chances of making it. In his heart he held hope, in his mind, death was only minutes away.

With less than a mile to shore, the birlinn reached the galley and came broadside to it, on the starboard side, cutting off the shore from it and any further chance of escape. With ten swords at the ready and four arrows drawn and aimed, William knew his chances were over.

"Lower yer sail, or die where ye stand." the command from Sorley Boy to John, definitive in its meaning.

John quickly lowered their sail and the galley slowed in speed rapidly. The MacDonnell's lowered theirs as well and came along side. Three armed men jumped across and secured the galley with lines, holding it to the birlinn. 

"Ye three, come across." Sorley's order, assisted by pointed weapons, left no room for argument.

Therese stood and was helped across by several men, while William and John were left to their own abilities to jump from one boat to the other. In moments, the sails on the galley and the birlinn were raised and both vessels plied north-west through the channelled waters, back towards the Irish coast.

"What's yer reason fer sailing out'ta yer lands and intae mine?" Sorley's question aimed at the two lieutenants.

"We're Scottish soldiers, on a mission fer the Earl of Huntly. We are returning tae Inverlochy Castle, from oor mission in France. We're bringing her Ladyship tae his Lordship, as she is his betrothed." William's voice was clearly showing his fears, which brought a smile to Sorley's face.

"Is this correct?" he quickly snapped at John.

John's fear was worn like a mask, his voice gone from him. He nodded fervently to acknowledge his agreement to William's words, as he handed the letter from the Earl to 

him. Sorley opened it and quickly read it.

"Yer both Scottish soldiers, yet ye sail in an royal galley. Why's that?" Sorley questioned them and gave John back the letter..

"It belongs tae his Lordship's cousin, the Duke of Argyll. His Lordship felt if we sailed under his colours, we would be safer from attack." William explained as best he could.

"I guess his Lordship was wrong, then. I happen tae hate the royals. I hate anything tae do wi' them. Now, here ye are in my waters, sailing an royal boat. The way I look at this then, is the Earl of Huntly is cousin wi' the royals and they're in wi' the English, that makes him part English and ye two serve under him, so that makes ye English supporters. Am I wrong?" Sorley questioned to them.

"No, we're not English supporters, we're Scottish soldiers and defend fer the King of Scotland, James the sixth." John stated, his proclamation of their allegiance, a hope it spared their lives.

Sorley looked at them both closely and then to his men. His men gave shrugs of indifference to the statement and Sorley turned back to them.

"So, yer Scottish soldiers are ye? Ye don't ha'e any uniforms on. Do ye have any rank?" Sorley wondered to them.

"Aye, we're both lieutenants." William answered, gaining further hope it would grant them fairer treatment being officers.

Sorley looked at them closer still, seemingly picturing in his mind if they were indeed lieutenants. He finished his inspection and looked thoughtful for a moment. He looked quickly at his men and then back, then gave his thoughts.

"I believe ye's. I think ye are lieutenants fer his Lordship, the Earl of Huntly." Sorley's statement brought a relief to the two men's faces at hearing it. "So tae me, I think yer worse than being English. Yer traitors tae yer own country and that's something I loathe e'en more. We ha'e a tradition fer traitors like ye. Trial by Water. If ye are true tae Scotland, ye'll live, if yer not, ye'll die. That simple."

John and William's faces lost their relief instantly, hearing their lives were now in great peril. Quickly they were held and their hands bound together in front of them with rope. They looked at Sorley with pleading desperation for a reprieve.

"Colla, come along side. We have a trial by water tae do." Sorley shouted across to his brother, sailing the galley.

Soon, both boats were knocking against one another in the waves. The men picked up John and threw him over to the others, catching him and moving him to the back of the boat. They tied the aft mooring line to his bound hands and stood him to the side facing Sorley. William was bound the same and faced John.

"As traitors, ye'll face yer trial and prove yer innocence of the charge. When we reach Irish waters, we'll haul ye's back in. If yer alive, ye'll be taken across and set free, ye've proved yerselves tae be true Scots. Fer only a true Scot could live through the trial. Since ye ha'e nothing tae say, let the trial begin." Sorley raised his right hand and made the Sign of the Cross to them, then flicked his hand in signal, to put them in the water. 

The men pushed both soldiers into the water and watched as the ropes went taut and both men we're soon being dragged behind the boats. The water rushed over their faces and they struggled to find a way of catching a breath. The MacDonnell's watched them for a minute and then turned their attention to the beautiful, French Lady sitting very quietly in front of them.

"Noo yer Ladyship, let's hear yer story. Why are ye joining with filth, like that of the Earl of Huntly?" Sorley asked her in a very pleasant manner.

Therese sat stoic, paralysed with mortal fear at saying anything to condemn herself to death. She tried to look at Sorley's face, but the fear wouldn't let her.

"Are ye afraid we're going tae put ye tae trial as well? Is that it?" Sorley asked, even softer in tone.

Therese found the courage to finally look into Sorley's deep, blue eyes and saw a glint of compassion in them. It gave her the strength to nod her head, that she felt that was what was going to happen.

"Fear not M'Lady, we're not the savages ye think we are. We don't put Ladies tae death. If anything, the most we'll do is ask fer a ransom tae buy ye back, but ye'll no be harmed in any way. Unlike the English, we do ha'e some respect fer people. Am I right men?" Sorley asked for agreement to his words.

The men all agreed with an, "Aye," and Therese felt a calming ease wash over her, that she would not only have her life spared, but be spared any indignities as well.

"So, M'Lady, what are ye doing marrying the likes of his Lordship?" Sorely softly asked 

her again.

"I...I..don't want to marry his Lordship. I was kidnapped by those men and being brought back to the Earl. He would have to lie to the priest to have me as his wife. My heart belongs to a Scottish Laird, but it is not the Earl of Huntly." Therese proclaimed with more and more strength in her voice has she spoke, seeing the wind-swept blonde hair of Sorley covering and un-covering his face and the friendly set of it.

"Ye were kidnapped, by those two?" Sorley asked, nodding his head back in the direction of the men in the water.

"Yes. I left Scotland a little more than a month ago and returned to France, to my chateau and estate. It was just proclaimed mine by the King of France, Henri the third. I am Lady Therese deMornay de Trecesson. I was out riding through the vineyards and was taken by force by them. They clubbed me over the head and made me unconscious, then took me to the coast and sailed to here. I do not like the Earl, I loathe him." Therese felt the relief at saying what her heart had held in check, since her ordeal started.

Tears started to fall from her eyes and she reached for her small satchel, tied to the belt of her riding dress. She opened it and took out a small lace-edged handkerchief with her initials on it. The lace took hold of the rough edges of the amulet and pulled it out as well. It fell to the bottom of the boat and Sorley stooped to pick it up before Therese could react. He looked it over and turned it around in his hand. A realization of what it was, struck him immediately.

"This stone is the Luck of Dunvegan. It belongs tae the Chief of the Clan MacLeod and only he has possession of it. How do ye come tae have it in yer possession, Lady Therese?" Sorley's question was asked, in total disbelief of what he was holding in his hand.

Therese tentatively held her hand out to him, asking him with her eyes to return it to her. Sorley looked at her and slowly put it back in her hand. Therese put it in her satchel and tied it shut again. She looked at Sorley once more and found her love for Garreth, as her strength to speak.

"Laird Garreth MacLeod, is the one I wish to be betrothed to. He carries my cross around his neck in remembrance of our love. When he comes to France to marry me, we will give them back to each other. That cross he wears, is the only thing I have in memory of my father and this, is his only memory of his father. His friend, Laird Grayson MacDonald can attest to what I say, as well." Therese proclaimed it with as much assurance from the feelings in her heart, to have them believe her.

"I know his Lairdship, Garreth. I met him once as a boy, when his father came tae see 

5

mine. The MacDonald's and the MacLeod's ha'e always been friends and allies, fer as long as I can remember." Sorley's reply confirming the authenticity of Therese's statement.

"You are a MacDonald? Are you a relative of Lady Arabella of Castle Tioram?" Therese's questions being fired, by her strong desire to see her again.

"No, I'm a MacDonnell, a distant relation tae them. Ye know Lady Arabella MacDonald as well?" Sorley asked in wonderment, that she knew of his kin and allies.

"She is like a sister to me. We met at the Cathederale de St. Pierre in Rennes, where we studied. I have hoped with all my heart, that I would see her again. The other laird, Laird Grayson MacDonald, the Earl said they were not of a relation to each other. Is he related to you?"

"I know he's Arabella's brother. And the Earl lied tae ye, that they're not? I wonder why he did that?" Sorley found it puzzling, why the Earl would lie about it.

"Can you take me to Tioram, so that I may be with her? I beg you to allow me that kindness. I do not know where the castle is and have no way to get there, but I would be eternally grateful to you for your aid." Therese now pled with all her heart, that she would at last find her friend, Arabella.

"Aye, I can take ye there. We just need tae take care of these tae behind us first." Sorley smiled at her, assuring her, her most heart-felt wish would come true. "Colla, haul that one in. Let's see if he's a true Scot. Randal, haul this one in and see if he is tae." Sorley told his brother and son.

Several men pulled hard on each of the ropes, slowly pulling the soldiers closer to the boats. Soon hands were pulling them back in and laid them on the decking. John coughed and gasped hard, salt water spraying out from his lungs. William was still alive, but close to being unconscious. They checked to see if he was alive and Randal gave a nod to Sorley that he was.

The two boats made for the coast of Ireland, a few miles away and Dunluce Castle, perched on the rocky cliff-face. They made the coast shortly and let the birlinn and galley slide up the gravelled shore. The men jumped out and pulled both up further. Lady Therese was helped by Sorley and two men on shore, to alight from the boat and touch Irish soil for the first time. She looked about at the brilliant, green of the land and breathed in the sweet smelling air. Once again, her freedom had a smell to it, that she would remember always.

John and William were dropped on to the ground and fell. The men picked them up and held them, as they knelt on the ground. The need for strength to hold them not needed, as both were weak from their ordeal and still coughing hard, to expel the water in their lungs. 

"Well, I see ye's proved yerselves tae be Scots. I'm happy tae see that." Sorley said to them both.

John and William weakly lifted their heads to him and a wan smile of victory came over their faces. Sorley had Colla and Randal lead Lady Therese up to the castle, to not only allow her to wash and clean herself and have some food and drink, but to be spared witnessing what came next. Once she was out of earshot, Sorley turned back to the kneeling men.

"I was going tae let ye's go, I was. But ye've treated a Lady in a very un-gentlemanly fashion, so ye have. Ye's not only kidnapped her, but ye beat her on the head tae. Which one of ye's did that?" Sorley asked, looking back and forth between them.

"It was William who hit her. I told him he shouldn't ha'e done it." John proclaimed, hoping his innocence spared him.

William looked at John with hatred for saying it, but it changed to a look of dread, as he looked back into the vicious eyes of Sorley.

"Then ye'll be last then. Ye'll get tae know what's going tae happen tae ye. I hope both yer souls are taken by Lucifer and serve him in eternity. Men, tie this one tae the Rock of Judgement and make this one watch." Sorley ordered, pointing at John, then to William.

The men picked up John and dragged him along the coast a short ways. A large, flat stone lay at the water's edge and John was laid down face up. His feet were bound together and a Claymore thrust between them, pinning them in place. Another sword was thrust into the ground pinning his arms straight back. Other men had brought William and forced him to stand and look at him.

"But we passed yer Trial of Water, why aren't we being freed?" John pled for his life.

"Aye, ye did pass the trial, so ye did. This punishment is fer what ye've done tae a Lady. To tell the truth, e'en though yer Scots, I don't like ye's. Yer no the type of men that should be walking up here wi' good men. Ye belong down below wi' Lucifer and his lot in Hell" Sorley told him, standing above him.

Sorley turned to William, letting him know he was joining his partner soon, with the detestable look he gave him. William's head bowed and Sorley let go a vicious back-hand slap across his face. Blood flew from the splitting skin of his lips, then Sorley grabbed him hard by his hair. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 22



"Yer the filth of Lucifer and it gi'es me pleasure tae send ye's back tae him. Ye'll stand and watch what yer fate is. Know that in Hell, ye've committed sins tae warrant this." Sorley's words bringing a sickened look of pure fear to William's eyes.

Two men stood on either side of John, razor-sharp battle axes, at the ready. They looked to Sorley for the order to carry out the punishment and Sorley once again raised his hand, but made the Sign of the Cross on himself, instead of John.

"Time tae feed the fish of Jesus, men. Begin the Judgement." Sorley told the two men.

The axes were raised above the men's heads together and in unison they came down and chopped the feet off of John. The ringing of steel on stone was barely heard, as John's horrific screams almost drowned it out. Again they came down and John felt the slicing through his knees. Blood gushed forth from the severed limbs, John's crying out in pain, gut-wrenching, until once again, the blades came down and removed the rest of his legs. William stood in stock horror at seeing John being dismembered. The axes fell again and both arms came away cleanly, leaving only the torso and head left. Before the massive blood loss and shock could take him, the blades came down together and John's head was rendered from his body. 

The men picked up his pieces and tossed them as far out into the water as they could, turning the waters red. As weakened by the sight as he was, William struggled to avoid meeting his fate. He was roughly picked up and dropped to the Rock of Judgement, then bound the same as John was.

"No, please I beg of ye, don't do this tae me." William pled through his tears. 

No one paid any attention to him, as they looked at Sorley for the command. Sorley signed himself again and nodded his head. Once again the blending screams of man with the ringing steel, rang out, as they began severing William's lower limbs. When only his head was left, Sorley looked into the near-lifeless eyes of William. He drew his Claymore and by his own hand, severed William's head. He poked the end of it into the neck opening and held it up for all to see.

"This is what we fight against, men. The evils of men like this and those bastard English."

With that, Sorley drew back his arm and then let the head fly from his sword, as it arched a trail of blood from it. The pieces of William were then thrown out to join those of John. The men stood for a moment and looked at the bloodied waters, signing themselves, before turning to go up to the castle. Once the tide came back in, the rock would be washed clean, of the traces of judgement carried out on it.

Therese was afforded every courtesy and priviledge and a woman sent to bathe her. A young woman named, Moira, knocked at the door and asked Therese to follow her. She led her to another room, where a large tub of hot water sat in front of the fireplace. Moira assisted Therese in undressing and admired her, as she stood naked in the warm firelight. 

Therese closed her eyes and held her hair in abundance on her head, as she enjoyed the feeling of the sweat and dirt being cleaned from her. Therese felt the sensations race through her body, as Moira ran the cloth over her body, her hand caressing her skin, as she washed. Therese's pale, pink crowns, swelled from her breasts in response to the stimulating feelings, as Moira carefully and gently cleaned every inch of Therese, leaving a measure of attention with her touch. As Therese felt the cloth run through the fine, black hairs between her legs, she parted her feet and allowed Moira to clean her intimately. 

At that moment, Therese understood what Arabella was feeling that day, so long ago. She felt the shudders race through her in waves, as they emanated from Moira's touch. Moira saw the reaction to her touch and the flushing on Therese's skin. With a slight shift of her body and a sighing moan, Therese offered herself for Moira to continue, with a breathy whispered "Yes." Moira soaked the cloth in the warm water again and allowed her fingers to press against her more firmly. 

In the swirling ecstasy of her thoughts, Garreth burst into view before her and she felt the heat build in her core. Moira softly stroked her fingers back and forth along the swelling lips and caught wind of Therese's scent. Soft whimpers came from Therese every time she reached a certain point, so she paid a greater frequency to it and Therese's moans grew in intensity. Moira became frightened and stopped, but Therese quickly motioned for her to continue, pressing her hand against Moira's to spur the feelings coming from her. In moments, Therese shuddered and twitched, as she was consumed by the glorious feelings of bliss.

Moira watched, as Therese writhed sensuously, a low throaty groan accompanying it. She smiled in embarrassment at what she had done, as Therese turned her head and through half-opened eyes, smiled back at her. Moira quickly went back to washing and moved down Therese's legs. Therese remembered her imprint and stopped her. She took the cloth and carefully washed around the faint outline on her calf, then once again, kissed her fingertips and placed them gently on it. 

Moira looked at the faint impression on Therese's calf and had to ask her what it was.

"Bring me my purse, Moira." Moira went to the table and brought it back.

Therese opened it and took out the amulet. "See the head of the bull?" she showed her and put it against her thigh. She pressed it against the outline and then took it away, defining it more. Moira looked at Therese with wonder as to why she did it.

"It is the Luck of Dunvegan and the love of my Garreth that imprints my skin. Before I left Scotland, I traced the outline with ink, but it is fading now." Therese said, as she held the amulet to her breast.

Moira delicately touched it and felt the slight impression of it, then looked up at Therese and smiled. She too liked the idea of something so personal being a part of her. Moira dried off Therese and re-dressed her, then combed out her waist-length hair, before wrapping it up on her head and pinning it again, while Therese held the stone and felt Garreth filling her heart. She left the chambers and Moira led her to the kitchen, where hot food and refreshing drink was ready for her. She thanked her for her courtesies, giving a small kiss to her cheek, then sat and hungrily ate and drank to fill the emptiness in her stomach, the lack of manners and graces in eating, being taken over by her forced starvation.

As she ate, Sorley came in and joined her at the table. A plate of fatty bacon, several apples, a large end of bread and a cup of warmed cider were brought to him. He looked at Therese eating joyfully, knowing she must be starved from her lack of food to eat on her journey.

"Is it tae yer liking, Lady Therese? Is there anything we can get fer ye?" Sorley asked her, addressing her now to befit her title.

"Oui, merci beaucoup. Pardon, monsieur, but I do not know your name." Therese asked, realizing that through all of the events, his name was never mentioned.

Sorley stood up and introduced himself properly to Therese. "I am Sorley Boy MacDonnell, the Chief of MacDonnell's of Antrim, M'Lady." Sorley bowed graciously to her and then sat again.

"I have heard this name, MacDonnell before. When I was with the Earl, I overheard that name being spoken." Therese told him with a look of slight puzzlement at the connection.

"MacDonnell? What did his Lordship ha'e tae say aboot us?" Sorley asked, unaware of the actual connection.

"There is a battle, a war, taking place near where the Earl resides. A man, a disgusting, vile man, James MacRae. He is at war with the MacDonnell's. He has attacked a castle called..." Therese sat and tried to think of the name of the castle in question.

"Eilean Donan? Is that it?" Sorley asked, knowing his other closer relations were at the seat of it.

"Oui, yes, that is the name." Therese confirmed to him.

Sorley looked at Therese for a moment longer and then to the men around him.

"Men, we must make fer Tioram wi' all haste, once Lady Therese is ready tae sail. We ha'e tae leave her wi' Lady Arabella and Laird Grayson MacDonald and then make fer Donan and gi'e them oor aid. Ha'e the men assemble and ready all birlinns fer battle."

Sorley's brothers and sons bowed and quickly left the kitchen, barking out the orders to everyone. The sounds of preparation filled the kitchen, as Therese and Sorley sat and ate.

"I know that the castle was re-taken by Laird Garreth and Laird Grayson. They came to the Earl with four men as prisoners. They were waiting for the Earl to conduct a trial for the crimes the MacRae men committed." Therese told Sorley, trying to remember anything that would be of help to him.

"Donan's been taken back by the MacDonnell's?" Sorley asked with hope in his eyes.

"Oui, I heard it being said to the Earl, by Laird Grayson, that they had. I do not know if it is still so, but before I left for France, Laird Garreth told me of what had happened." Therese confirmed as much as she could to him.

Sorely looked away and tried to think of the state of affairs his relative's clan was in. If the Earl was backing James MacRae, then the clans would be facing not only the MacRae's, but the King's army as well. Remembering that the two lieutenants were sailing an royal galley, meant that trained English soldiers and more could be heading to them, to take it back. He rose and bowed to Therese, excusing himself to join his men.

He went out and watched the men amassing weapons and siege equipment into their birlinns. He saw Colla and called him over, talking to him in seriousness of what he knew.

"Colla, Lady Therese has told me that the Earl of Huntly is backing this attack, along wi' support from his bastard brother, in England. They'll be ootnumbered by them and face being wiped oot by them. They'll ha'e cannons and better weapons than oor men, making it impossible tae beat them. Send word oot tae the clans on Kintyre and Islay and any of them here, that are willing tae help us. We'll need tae raise a force that can stand against their army. The need fer haste must be gi'en full measure, if we're tae help them in time. I'll sail wi' Lady Therese tae Tioram and talk wi' Laird Grayson and see what his plans are. Wi' God's grace, we may be able tae prevent a sacking and take o'er by them."

"I'll send oot riders noo, Sorley, while I sail o'er tae Kintyre and raise the alarm. If yer right, it'll be God's grace that we make it in time." Colla told his brother, with growing trepidations they wouldn't arrive in time to help.

Colla and Sorley hugged each other, then shook wrists with a strength of conviction in their eyes. Colla hurried down to his birlinn and had his men push it off and immediately set oars in the water, rowing as hard as they could to gain speed. The sail was raised and gathered the off-shore breezes, pushing the birlinn up to the full speed of the wind quickly. Sorley returned to the kitchen and saw Therese was finished eating. 

"Lady Therese, I must ask that ye join me with all haste, so that we can reach Tioram and know of what is happening. I need tae let them know we are wi' them and set oot plans tae aid them."

"I am ready, Laird Sorley. Let us be off and I too wish for a hasty journey to Tioram as well." 

Sorley took Therese's arm and assisted her, as fast as they could, over the steep rocks that led from the castle to the shore. He had his men help her into the boat, as he prepared to launch it with two others, once she was settled. In moments the scraping of the hull stopped as deeper waters floated the vessel. The oars were brought out and sixteen men pulled hard on the oars, as the pale, blue sail was raised once more. A loud pop took Therese by surprise and frightened her, as the sail gathered the winds and they too made top speed in short measure.

Therese's heart was a mix of emotions once more. The threat of the Earl gone once again. The deepest desire to see Arabella at once being realized, and in her heart, the love of Garreth coming into focus, that it would be shared with him again shortly. For all the wonderful joys she was imagining, her fears held them in check, with the threat of war possibly ending them, before she could see them all again.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 23



Tavish smiled out at everyone and took in a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

"It had been three days noo, that Garreth had been oot from the wound and the fever. Arabella had barely left his side and was always keeping a watch tae see if and when he came aboot."

             ***************************

As Arabella lay resting beside Garreth, her hand on his leg, he started to move, bringing her attention to him quickly. She rolled over to him and sat up, placing her hand on his forehead and felt for his temperature. She smiled, knowing it was almost back to normal and watched him closely. Soon a flickering of his eyes told her he was coming around and might soon awaken. She hurried from the bed and took a damp cloth and wiped away the dried sweat from his fever. Garreth soon opened his eyes, a look of bewilderment in them, not knowing where he was.

"Och Garreth, God has spared ye, so he has. I thought we would lose ye tae him." 

Arabella said softly to him, as he focused his eyes on her.

A faint smile came to his lips, as he recognized her. "Arabella." he said weakly.

"Aye, my poor man. Ye were ho'ering between life and death, when Grayson brought ye here." she said while stroking his hair back from his face.

Garreth was still too groggy to recall the events leading up to how he was here. He tried to sit up, but Arabella gently laid her hand on him and bade him to lie still. She turned to the table beside the bed and took the metal cup filled with water and brought it to Garreth's mouth. She gently cradled his head in her arm, as she brought the rim to his lips. They were dry and cracking from a lack of water and moisture to them. It had been three days and nights of a constant vigil, since pulling out the arrow and stemming the flow of blood, then the fever from an infection in the wound. Garreth tried to drink, but found his throat too dry to get the water past. He choked up the water and spat it out on the robes covering him. 

"Take yer time, Garreth, just a wee sip tae start." Arabella told him softly, her affections for him showing clearly.

Garreth took a small sip and found the relief of swallowing it. Slowly he drank more and felt the comfort in slaking his thirst. When he had enough, he nodded to Arabella to take it away.

"Bella, ha'e ye been taking care of me?" he asked her, knowing now he had suffered a wound before he went unconscious.

"Aye Garreth, ye've been oot of it fer three days noo. We thought ye were almost gone, ye were so bad. Ye'd lost so much blood and then the fever took ye o'er."

Garreth searched his memory for anything that had happened, seeing bits and pieces of it flash before his mind's eyes. A dawning of Grayson and him at the Earl's castle brought a realization of danger looming.

"Grayson, does he know the Earl is in league with MacRae? Bella, the Earl has said he's signing a charter tae gi' them Donan." Garreth started blurting everything his mind could remember.

"Hush Garreth, he knows. Ye just rest yerself. Grayson is taking care of things. Do ye feel like eating something? Ye must be starving." Arabella asked him, soothing him with her words of comfort.

Garreth lay back and allowed himself to relax. "Aye, I do feel like eating something. I can't remember when I ate last."

"I'll send word tae the kitchen tae bring ye up something. Fer noo, let's look at the wound 

and see how it's healing." Arabella told him and lifted the robes back from his body.

He looked down to see his member bared to Arabella's eyes and tried to cover himself from her. Arabella chuckled at his shyness and pushed the covers away.

"Och Garreth, I've seen it enough already, so don't be all ashamed and shy aboot it. I need tae look at the wound and see if the infection is easing up. If it is, ye should be up and oot of my bed soon." Arabella told him chuckling, as she looked at the wound in his leg and checked how it was healing. "I will say, it's a nice one ye ha'e though. Quite grand in fact." to which Arabella smiled and giggled girlishly, while Garreth went beet red in embarrassment. 

"I see yer colour is returning, quite well in fact." she said to him, upon noticing the deep blush to his cheeks.

Arabella raised his leg and checked the backside of his thigh, where the arrow had gone through. She lowered it gently and placed her hand on his thigh.

"Yer healing well, Garreth. Ye should be up and aboot soon. Just gi' those stitchings a chance tae keep the wound closed and ye'll be fine. By the end of the week, ye'll be up and swinging yer Claymore aboot." Arabella told him smiling, happy to see a full recovery in store in the next few days.

Arabella rose and placed a small kiss on Garreth's forehead, her bountiful breasts becoming more exposed to him, as she bent over, then left to arrange for some food to be brought up. Garreth drew back the covers and touched his wound and remembered how he had escaped from the Earl's. More of the past events of the Earl rushed back in, his mind trying to fathom the meaning of them all. It started to made sense now, why the Earl took the charges against his prisoners so lightly, why he gave a charter to MacRae, to have possession of Eilean Donan. He was in league with James MacRae and they were taking lands and castles in the name of King James. Garreth wasn't sure in his mind if the King was behind it, or just the Earl himself, using his powers for personal gain. Whatever the reasoning, he knew none of the clans that held allegiance to the Lord of the Isles, were safe from attack. Footsteps outside the door had him throwing the robes over himself, just as the door opened.

Arabella returned with a bowl of lamb stew and some crusty bread, along with a jug of mild cider. She laid it on the table and had Garreth sit up and lean back against the headboard and put a pillow behind him.

"Arabella, I owe a great debit of gratitude fer yer kindness. I owe ye my life." Garreth told her, his eyes showing the gratefulness and affection he was feeling.

Arabella smiled and patted his chest softly, saying nothing in response, knowing everything that needed to be said, was said. She took the bowl and spoon-fed her dearest of friends the warm liquid, meat and vegetables, taking great delight in nursing him back to health. She made sure he ate everything and drank a goodly amount of cider. Licking her thumb, she wiped away the remains from around his mouth, Garreth passively resisted being treated like a bairn, then Arabella placed another affectionate kiss on Garreth's cheek, before she smiled at him and rose to take the empty dishes away.

Garreth felt the need for rest, far out-weighed his need to think. His stomach felt better with food and drink in it, so he laid his head back and in moments, was fast asleep in recuperative sleep. Arabella came back and saw he was sleeping when she poked her head in and left him to rest, knowing he was okay and on the mend. She went to a guest room that night and lay there thinking of Garreth and her feelings for him. She remembered how he looked at her and saw his feelings for her. In her heart, he had always been her love interest, since that first kiss on her thirteenth birthday. As much as she put him out of her mind, when she married Logan, he was always there lurking in the 

depths of her mind, so easy to re-call when the need arose.

She held thoughts of Braedon and felt the pangs of losing him, but understood his grief was what was separating them. Only sadness held, with no hope of a re-joining in sight. Her feelings for Garreth over-shadowed her yearnings for Braedon, Garreth being a life-long love to her and many of her lust-filled dreams. Something she never even told Therese in all their intimate confidences, was that it was Garreth she was thinking of, that day she was caned for touching herself. The more she thought of Garreth, it brought her to the point of repeating her chastised pleasure, knowing punishment for it would never happen now.

The sun broke through the chamber's windows and moved slowly along Garreth's body, illuminating him. It slowly crept along his body to his face, until it shone brightly on his eyes, making him squeeze them tighter and stir. He started to open his eyes and it blinded him, so he shut them tight again. He turned his head and tried again and saw he was still in Arabella's chambers. The day before seemed like another blur to his memory and tried to shake the fuzzy feeling in his head. He sat up and stretched, yawning widely and feeling much more rested and energized.

He sat in bed, just enjoying the peace of the morning and drank the water Arabella had left for him. He felt dehydrated and his thirst seemed endless. A knock at the door had him bid entry and two servant women came in, one with a few oatcakes, a few slices of bacon and another jug of warm, mild cider, the other with a large bowl of water and a cloth. Garreth thanked them, as they bowed and took away the empty jug. He ate all of the food heartily and felt his body thank him for the sustenance.

As the day wore on, Garreth felt more of his strength returning and the urge to relieve himself. He rose to use the chamber pot and it felt good to be up and moving once again, despite the aching throb of the wound. He finished and put the pot by the door to be emptied later. He walked back and stood looking out the window at the loch, the calm waters giving a sense of peace and serenity to everything. He knew that peace and calm were going to be short-lived.

He took notice of his own foul body odour and stripped his tunic off, tossing it on the bed. He went to the bowl of water and took the cloth and washed himself as best he could. Satisfied he wasn't as repugnant smelling, he went back to the window and let the warm sun dry him, his mind drifting off in the peacefulness.

Arabella returned to her chambers and entered quietly, then saw him standing there, staring out the window, the sun illuminating his body for her in detail. She admired his nudity and studied his well-defined body, his strongly muscled legs and the curve of his buttocks. The lustful feelings from last night's self-pleasuring came back and her yearning to experience her dreamt desires. Stealthily she came up behind him, then reached around and took his pride in her hand, feeling it pulse at her touch, as she wrapped her other around his waist.

"Arabella!!, what are ye doing?" Garreth's utter shock at feeling her touch him like that, brought him out of his thoughts, but had him stunned to react.

"Garreth, don't be so shocked by it. I've wanted tae do this since we were just young. E'er since I saw ye going swimming wi' Grayson in River Sheil." Arabella told him, as she smiled happily.

Garreth stood in stunned amazement at the feelings she created in him. As much as he felt like resisting, the sensation had him entranced to enjoy it more. He looked at the enjoyment in Arabella's eyes and forgot everything and anything, revelling in the moment they were sharing.

"Come Garreth, let me show you hoo much I enjoy this." Arabella told him, urging him to 

follow her to the bed. 

Without thought or consequence, just the feelings he held for her, he laid down and Arabella took a position at his waist. The touch of her hand on his manhood, gave him pleasures far beyond anything he could imagine, as he felt the rise and fall of it on him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken by her, letting her work her magic on him. 

"Oh my sweet Lord, Arabella." Garreth spoke out and gasped in his breath, as Arabella laid her lips upon him.

Once the warm, wetness engulfed him, he was blissfully unaware of anything, but the ecstasy Arabella was making him feel. He basked in the incredible joys she was showing him, losing himself under her spell. He could feel the rising tide inside him, the bliss becoming over-whelming, as he felt the apex of his pleasure reached and cried out in fruition.

"Therese, oh, Therese."

The name stunned Arabella immediately upon hearing it. Her head came up and looked at Garreth, confused and also in a state of wonderment at speaking that name. It had been several years since she had seen her best friend, and now hearing the same name spoken from Garreth's lips had her mystified.

"Therese? Why are ye calling oot that name?" she questioned him, still holding him in her hand, not caring of his flow oozing over her fingers.

Garreth looked at Arabella, at first bewildered himself trying to understand and then the memories of Therese rushed in.

"Wait, it's coming tae me noo. I remember it all noo. Lady Therese de Mornay. We met at Inverlochy, she was betrothed tae the Earl, but she wanted tae leave him and return tae France. I rescued her from two men who wished tae do her harm. I was taken by her and she was taken wi' me. It was love fer the both of us, as soon as we saw each other. I wear her cross and she has the Luck of Dunvegan." Garreth explained a piece at a time, then pulled the cross from behind his head and showed it to her..

Arabella recognized it immediately and felt her heart sink in the depths of despair at what she had done.

"Och Garreth, had I known about ye and Therese, I would'ne ha'e done what I did tae ye. I'm ashamed of myself. Can ye forgive, Garreth? I did'ne know." she pled with him, hoping he could find forgiveness in his heart for her.

"Bella, I don't hold this against ye. Ye did'ne know aboot Therese and I. It's no yer fault. I should of said something before ye started on me. I'm sorry Bella. I am. I've just noo remembered it all" 

"Oh Garreth, hoo can I e'er face ye and Therese? I'll know what I've done tae ye and don't know if I can keep it from her. We're like sisters and I love her like one. I worry she'll know some hoo. My heart's breaking tae think what it'll do tae her if she does know." Arabella's tears were welled deep in her eyes and spilled freely down the pale skin of her cheeks.

"Bella, we'll no speak of this e'er again. Ye ha'e my word, it's so. I don'ne want anything tae come between ye's either. It would break my heart as well, tae know I did something tae cause a pain between ye's." Garreth said in heart-felt sadness at Arabella's concerns.

Garreth took Arabella's hands in his and looked in her eyes, as she looked into his. Arabella kissed both his hands and then rushed from the room, tears once again falling down her cheeks and onto her ruffled dress. Garreth's head hung in despair, at what he allowed Arabella to do to him. He looked down at his bared manhood, still covered in his own seed, silently cursing it for causing so much suffering, from the pleasure it gave. 

             **************************

Tavish ended off at that point and looked at the women's faces, wanting to see how they 

felt about Arabella now. He could see some held a sympathetic look, while others had a look of disdain for her, at what she had done.

"I think a wee break tae stretch and refresh is in order. I see some of ye women want tae object tae Arabella being so forward tae Garreth and making things uneasy fer him and Therese. The poor lass has had aboot as much heartbreak as one person can ha'e at this point, don't ye think? She's no seen her best friend fer years, her husband, Logan was killed and her father and mother gone as well. She lost her love wi' Braedon, because he's left tae deal wi' his own grief and noo her life-long love, Garreth has a new love and it's her best friend. Not tae mention, she's in the middle of preparing fer a grand battle tae save Donan, as well as a possible attack on Tioram."

Tavish could see the disdain fade and a realization of what the woman was facing in her life. Some had started to shed a few tears for her, knowing they had judged her on events she didn't know about. The men seemed to understand why Garreth did what he did and accepted the outcome of his actions. Tavish turned his focus to Stuart and asked him to continue telling of Sorley Boy and Therese, now making their way to Tioram. He smiled at Stuart and Argus, then turned to look at the guests and back again, before he whispered to them.

"Ha'e yer e'er seen such a captive audience, as this? I'm quite enjoying telling this all tae them."

Stuart and Argus smiled and nodded in agreement with him and they all shared a quiet laugh in their own enjoyment of the telling. In as much as he was enjoying himself in telling their history, Stuart could see doubt and scepticism on some of the faces and thought about what it would take to convince them this had all really happened.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 24



The bow of Sorley's birlinn crashed through the waves, sending large sprays of water up. Therese sat far back in the birlinn, avoiding getting wet by it, while Sorley sat beside her, as his son, Randal worked the rudder and sail, making the best speed he could attain.

"So ye were wi' Arabella at the convent, ye said." Sorley asked her, making polite conversation, to ease Therese's look of worry.

"Yes, we were. We shared a room together and became close friends. We are more like sisters, we share such a deep affection for each other. I have missed her so, since she left to marry Logan MacLean. I hope she is happy with him and has many children now." Therese told him, remembering the last events to take place between them.

"MacLean ye say, from Duart castle?" Sorley asked her, hoping it wasn't.

"Yes, that is the one she spoke of." Therese looked happier at the thought Sorley knew more of her friend's life.

"It grieves me tae tell ye this Lady Therese, but Logan was killed, as well as Arabella's father, in a battle wi' the Campbell's. They lost Duart tae them. Her mother died of consumption no long before that. She's had a rough go of things, she has. She's the Chieftess noo of Tioram and she's been a grand one at that. Grayson is at Castle Camus on Skye, but they share the duties t'gether and ha'e made the MacDonald's of ClanRanald a powerful clan and rule a great deal of land." Sorley explained all that had happened, but saddened as he told her, seeing how it hurt Therese to hear it.

Therese felt everything sink in and quickly went to retrieve her handkerchief, to dab at the tears that flowed. She started to cry harder and harder, thinking of the pain and loss her dearest friend had faced, since they parted. Sorley was hesitant at holding her, but found the compassion in him to comfort her. Therese accepted the offer and buried her face into Sorley's sheepskin and let her grief pour from her.

As they sailed past the Island of Coll, across from the Sound of Mull, the Ardnamurchan Point grew in the distance and signalled they were coming close to Tioram. Sorley felt great pain in his heart, at being the one to relay such heart-breaking news to Therese. Remembering all she had said she had been through so far, he felt was terrible enough and he knew this was devastating news to hear. He had no words of comfort for her and allowed her to hold him for support. Once they rounded the point, the entrance to Loch Moidart came into view and Sorley had to leave her and take a position at the prow.

As he looked back at Therese, it tossed his mind into thoughts of actions done, to consequences paid. The lieutenants he had dispatched below were only servants of a higher force of evil. In his mind and all the events he had heard so far, told him that great strife and hardship were befalling the clans. The need to help put things right weighed on him, knowing his aid and that of any others that would join with him, could turn what seemed like a disastrous outcome, into a victory.

As the mountainous coast slipped away to a small point, they rounded it, sailing past Kentra Bay and Tioram came into sight. The loch and the castle were brightly lit in orange hues, by the late day sun, but Sorley felt his heart sink at knowing what his coming with Therese was going to bring to darken it.

         ***********************************

"Noo, I want tae stop there and let Stuart take ye's back tae Donan and what's going on there at the same time, if ye'll remember the rather morbid telling by Argus earlier." Tavish looked at Argus with a mocking scorn, then smiled.

Stuart rose, as Tavish sat and started off again. "Grayson, Iain, Stephen and Athol, were walking back tae Donan. They'd roonded the point from Loch Long and were noo on Loch Duich's shore. Grayson stopped suddenly and was gi'en an idea, an epiphany, if ye will. I'll start it off from there." Stuart told them, then looked into his memory of what Argus had told him and started in.

        ***********************************

Grayson looked at the broad, flat land along the coast in front of him and then turned and looked back at the coastline behind him. The others followed his gaze, but had no idea of what was in his head. He turned back and had a faint glimmer of a smile on his face, from the realization of what he was thinking. 

He started walking again, his stride getting more purposeful with each step he took. The outline of Eilean Donan stood out against the backdrop of mountains and water as they approached, The mid-day sun glared across the waters towards them, reflecting the golden-orange rays over everything. Grayson looked to both sides, at the men beside him and then spoke to them.

"I want ye's tae say nothing aboot this tae anyone. I need tae let her Ladyship and Lady Heather know what we've found and explain my idea fer a fitting tribute tae the fallen. I also ha'e an idea fer a tribute tae Jacob and also a way tae improve the future of the MacDonnell's, for centuries tae come." Grayson looked to each one for confirmation. "Not a word, is that understood?"

The agreement of nods and an, "Aye," came from them, giving Grayson a bit more hope, that he could turn a heart-breaking moment, into one of heart-felt pride. They made it to the bridge and Grayson stopped, the others following suit, as he looked up to where the Ladies would most likely be. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled, steadying himself for what he had to present to them.

He entered the keep and turned, going up the staircase to the top floor. Every step he took, seemed to be heavier than the last, his heart filled with trepidation at facing them now. He stood at the door and looked at it blankly, knowing just beyond it, were his kin and his heart. He raised his hand with the effort of moving a mountain and forced himself to lightly knock on the door. The sound of Lady Anne bidding him come in, made his knees grow weaker, as he opened it and entered. Seeing Anne and Heather in chairs by the window, Grayson weakly smiled at them as he approached.

"Grayson, good to see ye. Is everything going well?" Lady Anne asked him, her face finally showing some peace in it.

Grayson saw it on her face and the affectionate smile Heather was giving to him as well. His spirits and strength took a blow, but he found the power in his voice to speak.

"The castle is secure, Anne, we're well prepared fer an attack." He hesitated, looking at them with growing sorrow, as they looked at him, the joy in their hearts, once more to be slain and lowered his eyes from theirs. "I ha'e news that weighs heavy on me, but I must say it. Anne, Heather, we found Kyle's body in the woods. We've left him at Jacob's cottage on the far coast."

The faces of Anne and Heather went into immediate grief at his words and in tears, Heather rushed to her mother and they held each other. Grayson's own grief welled up in him at seeing what he knew would happen and he wept with their sadness freely. Anne was first to notice and then Heather, how broken Grayson looked and knew it tore at him to tell them the news of Kyle. Heather rose first and came to him and Anne followed close behind. 

They held him and comforted him, allowing him the chance to show his pain, without diminishing him as a strong man. He put his arms around them, as they did to him and the three shared the initial shock and loss together. Once past, Anne finally asked him what concerned her.

"Why is he at Jacob's, Grayson?"

Grayson had tried to think of a way to tell them and there was nothing but the truth that 

would suffice. He looked at them both, his face straining to keep a semblance of composure, then he breathed in deeply.

"He's no fit tae be seen, Anne. I don't know hoo long he's been dead, maybe since the very beginning, I just know, it's been tae long. Just remember him as he was and keep him in yer hearts like that. I washed him and Iain cleaned his clothes. He's covered wi' robes inside the cottage, but he's no fit tae lay yer eyes on him again. I'll go and re-dress him later for the tribute. Anne, Heather, I was thinking of something befitting of a young laird, tae gi'e him the respect he deserves. It would be my greatest honour that I could do fer him and all the family that's been lost tae ye."

Anne and Heather each took one of Grayson's hands and held it tightly, looking up at the face of someone who wanted to bring closure and respect to their family. Once more they hugged him in bonded affection, for his show of love to them. Anne asked him for his idea, her eyes speaking with a trust and hope in them, he would bring back a sense of pride and honour for her family and clan.

"What do ye want tae do, Grayson?"

Grayson silently bade the women to sit and listen to his idea. He explained how the dead were somewhere in the loch, resting in peace there and that Kyle was the only member to show a proper ceremony for. To pay homage to him and everyone else, he suggested a massive pyre be built on the tiny island in front of Jacob Dornie's cottage. He explained that being out in the water, it would serve to honour those above and those below. He told them he would send for his piper Gregor to play the dirge and ha'e the pyre draped in as much of the clan tartan they could find.

By the time Grayson finished telling them his idea, they were both in tears of gratitude to him. Both knew that a finer tribute to the Laird, his son and all the clan that perished, couldn't be made. Grayson was given their approval and after a sincere expression of his condolences, he left the chambers and went back to the courtyard. He saw the three men standing silently by themselves, keeping to their word of silence and his heart felt great pride in them. He knew what he was about to ask, would once again put a strain on the sanity of the men.

"Men, ye've made me proud tae call ye's kith and kin. I won't do anymore than ask ye's tae help me this one last time, tae finish what we started wi' Kyle. I'll understand if ye's say no and I'll still honour ye's and say no more aboot it."

Grayson's eyes bore into each man with a strong hope, that they could find their strength to subject themselves to the sight and smell of death once again. Iain took a step towards him and stood as strong and proud as he could, before crossing his arm to Grayson.

"My Laird, whate'er it is ye ask of me, I'll do it willing and wi'oot question. I pledge my oath tae ye it is so." Iain finished and then genuflected before him and bowed his head in complete respect. 

Stephen and Athol heard and saw the deliverance and knelt to him as well. Others stopped, at seeing the display and came towards them. Grayson turned and saw the attention he was garnering and once again finding his strength of command, turned to face the mass of men.

"Assemble in the courtyard here, I want every man and woman present."

Grayson watched as men ran to inform the others and women did the same. He walked to the battlement wall and strode up the stairs without effort, his power and strength returning to his limbs again. He stood looking at the gathering assemblage, then cast his eyes skyward and silently thanked God for the strength and conviction to carry out this deed. His voice was strong and sure, as he spoke to them.

"Everyone, listen tae what I ha'e tae say tae ye's carefully. We are going tae pay homage tae Laird Hamish, his son Kyle, and everyone who was lost tae the MacRae's slaughter. I want all the men tae gather wood tae build a massive pyre on the small island by Jacob Dornie's cottage doon the coast on Loch Long. Women, I'll need all the clan tartan ye can muster tae dress it wi'. I want this tae happen by nightfall t'night, so haste is needed tae do this. I call upon yer honour and pride in yer clan and respect fer the dead, tae do this. Make Lady Anne and Lady Heather prood tae know the fallen will be honoured and grant peace tae them. The souls of the dead wait at the bottom of the loch and need us tae send their souls tae heaven and be at God's side. Noo, tae work and fulfil this deed."

Grayson no sooner finished speaking and the crowd of people dispersed quickly, going to where they knew the elements needed were. Grayson descended the stairs and came back to his three men of choice.

"Iain, Stephen, Athol, I ha'e tae go back noo and re-dress Kyle. I ask that one of ye's accompany me tae do it. I'll no hold it against ye's if ye refuse, I know what a wound tae the soul it is tae do, but I must ask ye's."

Grayson's soft words struck an instant dread to them, but Iain once again drew upon Grayson's strength and honour, for his own.

"I will go wi' ye, my Laird Grayson. It is my honour tae serve ye in any way I can."

Iain looked at Grayson with all his inner strength being cast from his eyes. Grayson saw the show of respect and laid his hands on his shoulders.

"I'm prood tae call ye a true friend, Iain. I'll ne'er ferget this day and what ye've done. I will see tae it, ye are gi'en merit and due respect fer yer deeds. Ye tae as well. Ye all deserve tae be treated tae a show of respect and it will be done, ye ha'e my word." to which Grayson crossed his fist over his heart and bowed his head to them.

"My Laird, I will do what ever ye ask of me." Athol spoke out, finding his courage in Grayson's and Iain's.

"Ye ha'e my word as well, Laird Grayson. I tae will do as ye ask of me." Stephen acknowledged with conviction. 

Grayson saw the willing strength of the three men before him and wished that every man could show as much fortitude in them, to give their all for a cause. He shook each man's wrist with great admiration and stood proud among them. 

"Iain, ye come wi' me the noo. Ye tae, I want ye tae lead the others, once they ha'e gathered the wood and cloth. Ha'e them bring it in carts, on horseback or carry it in their arms, but I want tae build the biggest pyre seen, fer them."

Stephen and Athol bowed and left them, understanding their position to complete the task required of them. Carts were being brought in and loaded with materials that were needed to erect the structure, while dozens of men and women, along with older children went out to the woods and started to gather the wood need to build it.

Grayson and Iain mounted horses and rode out of the castle, along the bridge to the shore and galloped towards a date with an undesired re-union with Kyle.

           ********************************

Stuart could see tears welling in many of the people's eyes, hearing how dedicated the men were, to paying an honour owed, despite what conditions of abhorrence were present.

"I'll gi' ye's a moment tae gather yerselves a bit, before we go on. I know this is a bit hard tae take, but as Argus said before, it's what happened back then. There was'ne any mortuaries or people tae send yer loved ones tae. They had tae do it themselves and pay the cost in their souls. That's what made them the strong people they were."

Stuart could see the dawning in their eyes, just how hard life was back then. The fighting 

and killing aside, he wanted them to know what kind of people their clan was made from, where they drew their pride and honour from. He turned to Tavish and quietly asked if he could finish telling of Sorley Boy, once the guests had calmed a bit. He needed to excuse himself and left the hall and went to his office.

Tavish sat with Argus and discussed the details of the funerary service, making sure he had all the event set out right for him. The guests seemed to be calmer again and Tavish looked at Tom and Deb, still cuddled tightly together and pondered if they ever realized how much of their future, was held in their clans' past.

He tapped his spoon against the side of his crystal glass and the ringing brought the attention of everyone to him.

"Okay, let's tie up a few loose ends here and get this story t'gether. As ye were just told, Sorley Boy and Therese were just coming up tae Tioram, while all that was happening o'er at Donan. The mood at Tioram was'ne all that good either, at the time. Arabella is heart-broken, Garreth is feeling doon on himself as well, fer allowing that tae happen between them. The men are on high alert fer an attack and ready tae spill blood. Things could'ne ha'e been worse fer Sorley and Therese tae show up."

The narrow gap to Moidart passed, Randal started weaving his way past the sandbars, avoiding grounding out on them. In the castle, a call of, "Sails," went out by the lookout on guard and without hesitation, archers were positioned along the wall and more around the castle base. When Arabella heard the alarm, her grief was quickly put aside and she raced from her place of solitude in the last room of the second floor. She made her way to her chambers and threw open the door.

Garreth sat in wonderment at hearing the action beginning to happen about the castle and looked at Arabella for an answer.

"There's a sail coming in tae the loch, Garreth. Ye stay here and don't move. Yer no ready tae do battle and I won't ha'e ye putting yerself tae risk." her words and face making it clear he would face dire consequences at disobeying her.

She fetched her father's sword once more and prepared herself tae fight once again. As she made for the door, she looked back at Garreth, the pain of what happened quickly showing, then turned and ran down the stairs.

As the birlinn neared, no one recognized the sail, or any of the men on board. As it closed to the shore, a nervous archer's sweaty fingers released his arrow at them. Before a hail to the men on shore could be made, the arrow found the chest of Connor MacDonnell, Sorley's cousin. He grabbed at the arrow and lost his footing, falling into the shallow water. 

"Hold yer fire." Sorley shouted out to them, seeing dozens and dozens of arrows pointed at them.

Robert MacDonald approached cautiously, "Friend or foe?" he asked Sorley, his sword pointed at him and ready to attack.

"I'm yer kin, MacDonald. I'm also the kin of Lady Anne MacDonnell. I'm Sorley Boy MacDonnell, son of Alexander, Lord of Kintyre and Islay. I've come tae offer my help." he told him, his voice and look in his eyes declaring a truth.

"Stay yer weapons men! Ye tae, attend tae that man at once." he ordered two soldiers.

The men quickly pulled the wounded Connor out of the water and laid him on dry ground. The arrow had pierced his upper chest, puncturing his lung and causing him to spit and spew his blood, as he tried to breathe. One of the soldiers pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood, while a call went up to the castle for a litter to carry him there

"I'm Robert MacDonald, oldest cousin of Lady Arabella and Laird Grayson. We'll see tae yer man at once and ha'e him taken care of." he assured him and offered his hand to Sorley.

Sorley reached down from the boat and shook his wrist and then jumped from the side. Arabella was clearing herself a path between the men and making her way to the boat. She stopped dead at seeing the man before her talking to her cousin.

"Sorley? Sorley Boy, is it really ye? I hav'ne seen ye since we were all wee. Dear God, he's shown us a comfort in bringing ye here. Ye've no idea what's happened." she told him and then hugged him tightly.

Sorley looked out at the men around him, a bit taken back by Arabella's affections as she pressed herself tight to him, then returned the show of affection weakly. He waited until she released him, before he shared his news with her.

"I do know what's happened, Arabella. Someone ye know came and told me. I've brought her here, at her request, despite the troubles she's faced." he told her and turned back to the boat.

Therese stood up amid the men surrounding her and they parted for her to disembark.

Arabella laid eyes on Therese and felt the stunning shock of realization slam her hard. Her knees weakened and she fell to her knees, tears of extreme joy at seeing her sisterly friend again, spilling in torrents from her eyes.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 24



"Arabella, I have found you again, my dearest friend. I have wanted with all my heart to see you." she said to her and was quickly lowered carefully to the ground.

She hurried to Arabella's side and helped her to stand. A moment of reality passed when they first touched, confirming a dream wasn't tricking them, then they hugged and cried in joyous re-union. The rest of the men jumped from the birlinn and were assisted by the soldiers in pulling the boat up onto the coral beach.

The order to go back to their stations was given by Robert, as the two women clung to each other while walking, not wanting to let go. Once in the hall, seats were taken and Therese and Arabella started to share the events of their lives, since their parting. Sorley stood with Robert in front of the fire, as it cast a comfortable warmth in the room and warmed his hands to it.

"We need tae share what we know aboot this, Robert. I only know of what Lady Therese has told me, but from that, this does'ne soond good fer us all. If the Earl is trying tae take Donan fer himself, in the name of the King, he'll no stop, until all the castles are under his rule. With the force of the MacRae's, as well as aid from England, and forces from the King, there's no telling how large a force we're dealing wi'." he related his thoughts to Robert.

Robert nodded in confirmation of all Sorley said and added his own knowledge of things.

"The MacRae's ha'e slaughtered nearly everyone at Donan. Laird Hamish and most of the men were ambushed at first light, barely a week past, noo. Laird Grayson is seeing tae the castle's needs fer protection, as well as here and at Knock. Oor men are spread thin trying tae protect each one. We lost the support of the Stewart's as well. Laird Braedon lost his oldest, tae a foolish move by his son's own doing and is in misery o'er it. We've no idea if he'll return, or stay at Stalker and grieve. Every clan member we ha'e has joined us, but we fear it's no going tae be enough tae beat them."

Sorley looked at Robert and nodded his head, feeling the same outcome could happen.

"I ha'e word oot tae all the clans on Islay, Kintyre and the north of Ireland the noo. My brother, Colla, is preparing whatever men we get, tae come here once they're ready. Fer God's sake, Robert, don't attack them as well." he said with slight jest, knowing the tense state the men were in.

They continued to talk about strategies and plans on how to best use the forces they had and how to best utilize their weapons and boats. Therese and Arabella were still crying and laughing, the joys of togetherness and their deep love for one another clearly being showed.

Garreth got out of bed and dressed himself, his tunic and kilt, cleaned and dried for him. He stuck his finger through the hole the arrow left and shook his head, knowing he was not only lucky to be alive, a few more inches and his pride could have been severed. He left Arabella's chambers and carefully made his way down the steep, stone staircase. He heard all the voices and knew many people had arrived and were in the hall. One voice stood out from the others and held him fast. He crept to the doorway to the hall and peered around the edge, hoping what his ears had heard were true.

His heart leapt to his throat with excitement at seeing the raven-haired beauty of Therese sitting with Arabella. He watched them, not wanting to be seen, unsure of how he would handle talking to her in front of Arabella, knowing what had happened the day before. He was about to turn back and wait until a better time, when Robert spotted him standing there.

"Laird Garreth, yer up and moving. Tis surely God's hand that touched ye and spared ye from death. My heart is gladdened tae see ye standing well again."

The exposing greeting from Robert, took away any chance of setting his mind right to deal with seeing Therese. He came from his hidden position and stood in front of everyone. Therese heard his name spoken and searched through the men to see him, her face anxious and her heart racing wildly. She rose from beside Arabella and rushed to the doorway, finally seeing him in the flesh and tears of her love for him fell freely. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. Garreth, stunned momentarily, wrapped his arms around her and held her the same.

"Therese, how do ye come tae be here, my love?" he asked her, speaking in a strained voice, holding back the conflicted feelings he had.

Garreth led her away from everyone so they could talk more privately. Arabella's face was strained with her own emotions, as she watched them. The joy and sorrow blending into a mix that left her heart pained and aching, at what she knew and what she didn't want told. She had her fears of causing grief to two people she loved as dear as her own family, even more, as her own feelings for Garreth were still weighing heavily on her.

Sorely went to Arabella and sat beside her, not knowing the turmoil that raged inside her. He looked at her and held his hands out for her to take. Arabella looked at him with tear-soaked eyes, that washed away the vibrancy of the emerald green to the paleness of sea foam. He knew she was under great stress and the emotional re-union with her friend had been one of great happiness, but he knew more lay behind them, untold and never to be spoken of.

"Arabella, I must leave fer Eilean Donan and see my kin. I ask that I take Robert wi' me, tae let them know I'm not a foe attacking. It'll be dark by the time I arrive, so I'll need Robert tae hail them and let them know it's me. Do I ha'e yer permission tae do that?" his words as soft to her as he could make them.

"Aye Sorley, ye can take Robert and we'll see tae yer man who was wounded. Ye'll come back and talk tae me soon, I hope. We need tae make plans fer yer men tae help us. Time is getting short fer what we ha'e tae do." her words coming out with little strength, but high in emotional content.

Sorley didn't understand what lay in her heart, but knew it was playing hard on her. He kissed her hands and thanked her, before he rose and confirmed he would return as soon as he could.

"Robert, yer wi' me and we sail fer Donan at once." he told him, then louder, "Men, tae the birlinn and Donan with all speed." he called out to the room.

With no hesitation, Robert and Sorley's men followed him out of the castle and back to the shore. All the men pushed on the boat and jumped in, as their feet made water. Sorley was last in and stood at the prow, looking back with a sense of bewilderment, at what had happened in the castle. The bow was brought about by oar and rudder, then shortly after, sixteen oars plied the water in perfect harmony. The pale, blue sail was raised and turned to catch the wind, filling it out in a graceful arc of power. The sun had just set, putting the outline of the birlinn against the backdrop of a painted sky of fiery orange and reds.

On the tiny dot of land in front of the cottage, the men were busy constructing a massive pyre. The ebbing tide had made it easy to carry the wood over the exposed ground. Grayson and Iain stood at the cottage and took Kyle's tunic and kilt in hand and looked at their duty, with all the dread the scene inside held. They knew once again that only the strength of honour and respect could carry them through their ordeal and each took a deep breath, then entered. Stephen and Athol stood watch at the door, making sure no one came close enough to see what was inside.

Grayson lowered the robes from Kyle's face and upper body first. The sight had them turn their heads away in shock, even though they knew what awaited them. Grayson took hold of Kyle's hands and raised them over his head. They each took hold of the tunic and worked it down over his arms and as far down the body as they could. They stopped and both ran out and gulped in large amounts of fresh air. Without words, they drew in a deep breath again and entered. Grayson slid his hands under Kyle's shoulders, his face showing his disgust at touching the decaying flesh, and raised him up enough for Iain to work the tunic over his body. Grayson lowered him slowly and once more they ran out for air. Stephen and Athol watched them and knew what they were witnessing, their own stomachs churning, at the thought of what they were doing.

The strain of emotions showed on their faces and in their eyes, as they looked to each other for the strength to continue. Grayson resolved himself and gave Iain the strength he needed to join him and they went in again. Grayson pulled back the robes all the way, while Iain held the kilt ready to put on Kyle. They took an end each and slid it under his feet and up his legs, then struggled with the last, trying getting it under his buttocks. When they had it in place, they tossed the sides over and ran out for air. Iain was on the verge of breaking down completely, and Grayson could see it. He pulled him into a comforting hug, the same a father would give his child and held him, until he felt he had steadied himself again.

The men building the pyre kept stopping and watched the display of emotion on the two faces of the men. They could see how it was affecting them and could only imagine what horrific sight they must be seeing to cause it.

Grayson entered first, while Iain hesitantly followed behind. They wrapped the kilt properly and covered him once again, never wanting another soul to bear witness to his state. Finally they tied Kyle securely to the ladder, making sure he wouldn't fall off, or become exposed in any way. They exited and Grayson ran for the beach, throwing up and shaking. He was sure he would lose his mind and sanity, if he had to look at him once more. Iain was in just the same state and the builders watched in solemn reverence, at what the two had just put themselves through. Almost every man made the Sign of the Cross, after watching the spectacle.

With the huge pyre complete, oil was poured over the wood to soak it thoroughly. The women brought rolls of MacDonnell tartan to the men, who stood on ladders and fastened it to the wood. Grayson finally looked at what his mind had conceived and was proud in his heart, as he felt it was justifiable to present to Lady Anne and Heather. He told Stephen to return and bring the Ladies and all who could attend, while some remained on guard at the castle.

In less than an hour, a large procession of people, led by Lady Anne and Heather on horseback, made their way along the coast towards them, Gregor playing a sombre air to cadence the march. Everyone gathered at the shore to look at the pyre and stood in respectful awe at the sight of it. It stood close to twenty feet high in a massive construction of logs and branches, kindling wood along with dried grass was stuffed into the seams and cracks. Anne and Heather looked at it, realizing the effort put into it for their benefit and that of the fallen, then bowed their heads and prayed before it.

As the sun set below the craggy mountain tops, Gregor began playing and Grayson, Iain, Stephen and Athol took hold of the ladder and carried Kyle's covered body out to the pyre. Heads were bowed in respect and the people Signed the Cross on themselves, as he past. Anne held onto Heather tightly, as they watched the last of their family go by, tears streaming and sobs no longer held back in reserve.

Kyle was raised by the men to the ones clinging to the ladders, who then passed him up to the ones standing atop. Carefully he was placed, before all of them climbed down and removed the ladders. Gregor played the MacDonnell clan song, as torches were brought to Anne and Heather.

Once the prayers were done, the torches were tossed at the base and the flames licked at the oiled wood and caught rapidly, spreading up and around the pyre.

The darkness fell fast over the waters, so Sorley and his men stayed as close to shore as they could, while Robert guided them up Kyle Rhea towards the Kyle of Lochalsh. The off-shore breeze pulled them faster, as they rounded the point and headed down the waters of Loch Alsh and on to Donan. It was easy to see from the distance they were at, that a large fire was burning brightly, not far from the castle.

"Make for that fire, Randal. I want tae know what's happening there, before we make fer the castle." Sorley told him, more interested in what it was about and how it affected their arrival.

They sailed down and entered the sandy cove that Garreth's men had beached on before. They allowed the bow to scrape up the beach and hold them steady, as they watched the inferno light up the night sky and illuminate the multitude of faces on shore watching it. Sorley turned to Robert, looking for an explanation, if he had one.

"What's going on, Robert? Is it a celebration of some kind?" he opined his thoughts to him.

I don't know what it is or what it's aboot, Sorley, but that's a bloody, big fire. And it's oot on that wee island." Robert spoke out in his amazement.

The flames reached over a hundred feet in the air, and a sense of the heat could be felt by them, where they sat. Through the roar of the flames, they heard the skirl of pipes and in seconds, Robert knew who was playing.

"That's Gregor playing the pipes. That's oor dirge he's playing. They must be ha'ing a ceremony of some kind." he informed Sorely with assurance.

"Men, row o'er slowly and land close tae them. Robert, make sure ye hail them loud enough, so they don't attack us. I can't afford tae ha'e my men brought doon by mistake, thinking we're the enemy." Sorley told him with caution in his voice.

The birlinn was rowed astern, until they were able to turn and row through the shallow passage between the small island and the peninsula. They rounded the point and turned to make land a few hundred feet away from the throng of people. The pipes were played long and loud, the sound echoing off the mountains close to shore, as they touched land. Sorley and his men stayed on-board and waited, as Robert leapt over the side and made 

his way towards them.

"MacDonald's. My hope is constant in thee." Robert yelled out the clan oath, letting it be known he was one of theirs.

Heads turned in his direction and Grayson moved through the masses and made his way over. He saw who it was and was surprised to see his cousin standing there.

"Robert, how did ye get here?" he asked, not caring that he was there, but how he arrived without being seen.

"I came wi' a few relatives of oors. Ye'll ne'er guess at who showed up at Tioram, tae gi'e us aid." Robert told him, wanting to surprise him with the good news.

"Who's come? I've no time fer playing wi' questions, Robert. We're paying tribute tae the MacDonnell's that are gone." Grayson said in frustration.

Robert turned to the immense fire and understood now why it was so large.

"It's oor distant cousin and Lady Anne's as well. Sorley Boy MacDonnell is just o'er there, waiting in the birlinn wi' his men." he said, pointing back towards the birlinn, unseen in the night's blackness.

Grayson quickly walked in the direction Robert gave and saw the outline of the boat on the shore. As he approached, he could make out over a dozen men standing inside.

"Sorely Boy, is that ye? It's me, Grayson MacDonald. Come and join me here." he called to him.

Sorley jumped down and walked towards the large, shadowy figure approaching him. When enough light hit their faces for recognition, both had broad smiles come to their faces. Grayson's hand was out to him as he approached and Sorley's was extended in kind. They clasped wrists and stood looking at each other, so many years passing them by without contact. Grayson pulled him closer and they hugged in sheer appreciation of him being here.

"What's this aboot then, Grayson?" Sorley had to ask.

"It's a tribute tae the MacDonnell's that were slain. The only one left was Kyle, he lies atop, while the others are somewhere in the loch. I'll tell of it later. Come, bring yer men and join us. Lady Anne and Heather will be pleased tae see ye's. Yer the one thing they need tae see noo, is their kin." Grayson told him and they slung an arm over each other's shoulders and walked back.

The crowd parted for them, as they made their way to the centre of the congregation. Lady Anne and Heather stood looking, but were blinded by the bright light of the fire and couldn't make out who was approaching. When their faces were illuminated, her recognition of Sorley was unsure, yet she hurried towards him.

"Sorley? Sorley! Oh my sweet Lord in heaven, Hoo do ye come tae be here?" she cried out, tears of heart-felt joy flowed at seeing him, as a smile grew and happiness swept through her. 

Heather heard her mother call out Sorley's name and she too rushed to be with him. Grayson stood with emoted happiness, seeing the tide in emotion swing from being dutifully sombre, to one of emotional triumph, in a renewal of faith and God's loving grace for his thoughtfulness.

           ********************************

"Okay, so noo ye see hoo all that ties in t'gether. I know it was a bit long-winded in all the telling, but it gi'es ye a better understanding of everything. Doesn't it?" Tavish asked them.

Everyone agreed it all made sense and thanked Tavish, then raised their glasses to him. Argus saw him being praised and coughed out his objection to being left out. He looked at the guests in hopes he would share some of the thanks as well and shortly after he smiled smugly, as they saluted him with a cheer, "Tae Argus."

Tavish excused himself, then and made his way down the hallway to Stuart's office. He knocked on the door and tried to enter, but the door was locked. Stuart asked who it was and Tavish just said, "Me." The door was opened and Stuart hurried him inside and locked it again.

"What's all the secrecy, Stuart?" Tavish wondered.

"I'm going tae show them all some of their past." he told him, as he walked back to his desk.

Stuart held a small, intricately carved box with the MacLeod's bull's head carved into it. He opened it and there inside was the Luck of the MacLeod's, that Garreth had given to Therese. He closed it and went to the far side of the room and took a royal blue velvet cloth off a large frame hanging on the wall. Behind it was the remains of the centuries old Fairy Flag, something Stuart knew would make his guests feel not only a sense of pride and honour, but a chance to believe in magic.

"I was just aboot tae open the safe again, tae get the Cup oot. If ye don't mind, Tavish, just turn aroond fer a minute." Stuart asked him.

Tavish turned and Stuart opened his safe and took out another wooden box, equally intricate in the carvings. He gently laid it on his desk beside the amulet and showed Tavish what he was about to present.

"I could see a look of disbelief in some of the things we were telling them, Tavish. Wi' these displayed before them, there'll be no chance of that happening again. It'll be there as proof we're no just telling a fairy tale tae them." Stuart explained to him.

Tavish looked at what Stuart was willing to bring out and smiled at him. Stuart smiled back and winked.

"They thought the story a bit much the noo, they ha'e no idea just hoo wild it'll get later, when we talk of the battle." Tavish started grinning.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 25



James MacRae rode into Inverlochy with the Earl's captain and dismounted at the front of the main building. They were immediately ushered in by the guards to see the Earl. James walked in and saw his sons and nephews sitting and standing around the Earl's desk, enjoying a drink with him. 

"Boys, it's good tae see ye's free again. My thanks tae ye Douglas. I knew ye'd keep them from the Gallows Pole." his face clearly showing the happiness of relief.

"I have my ways of dealing with things, James, you know that." Douglas smiled at him, enjoying his sherry.

James came to the desk and hugged his kin, then sat down in front of it, accepting a glass of whisky from the guard. He saluted Douglas, who returned the salute and they drank together. 

"Lads, bugger off home noo. The Earl and I ha'e business tae attend tae. I'll see ye's back at the village later on. The men'll be glad tae see ye's." James told them, still smiling happily at them.

The sons and nephews bowed to the Earl and then to James, before leaving and whooping and hollering their way out of the office. Once the peaceful quiet settled again, James turned back to the Earl with a more serious intent on his face.

"We ha'e oor army, Douglas. The MacDougall's, the Douglas', the MacLean's and the Fraser's, ha'e all agreed tae join me. Wi' my men, that makes oor numbers at o'er eight hundred. Join that wi' the men ye ha'e and the ones yer cousin is supposed tae send and that will be more than enough tae take Donan back, as well as wipe they bastard MacDonald's oot and take Tioram and Camus. We ha'e enough birlinn tae sail men as well. They went oot and got five, but we lost a few men trying tae get another. Douglas lost his tae sons and nephews, when they tried tae take it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but those are the risks one must take when stealing another's birlinns. I have word from my brother Thomas and he will be sending one hundred cavalry and one hundred soldiers, along with cannons and a frigate with one hundred more soldiers aboard, so I'm sure we'll have more than enough men and armament to deal with the clans and dispatch them easily." Douglas told him, a smile of triumphant glee spreading on his face.

James turned to the guard and pointed to his glass for more whisky, before turning back to Douglas. He looked at the petite man and smiled broadly.

"I'll ha'e my castle Douglas. I'm not letting those bastards take it away from me again. If oor plan works oot, we'll be able tae drive oot they MacDonald's from the area and take control of the lands and waters they ha'e noo. The clans I'm bringing wi' me ha'e sworn an allegiance tae me, so they'll be under me and my control."

Douglas was still smiling, but the look in his eyes was saying he was in objection to what James had said.

"You will have your castle James, and the clans can hold an allegiance to you, but make no mistake, I have control. I represent the King and will make the decisions that affect the lands under my jurisdiction. Are we in an agreement with that, James?"

James' smile dwindled down to one of submitted accord and nodded.

"Aye, Douglas. You'll ha'e the control, but I'll ha'e the power. The power tae make the MacRae's the most powerful clan in the Highlands. T'gether we can rule long and well. There'll no be another clan tae oppose us. If they do, we'll wipe them oot and take the castle and lands and gi' it tae one of oors tae rule from."

"I can see that we do have an understanding, a good one. It will be in both our best interests, if we keep that in mind. I have my own ambitions, James. I want to be considered for more, than just being an Earl. When the King sees how I have claimed lands and castles in his name, he will afford me a greater position in his court. To make sure of that, I have other things in play to guarantee me that." Douglas offered, alluding to something that James had no idea about.

For all that Douglas Wallace was meek and ineffectual looking, James knew he held more power than the Earl let on that he did. They held a moment of confirmation between them, their eyes telling each other who led and who followed.

"Now, let's go over how many men you have and where we can use them most effectually. Planning this out this time, will take much more strategic placement of them, than marching in mass and having you get ambushed again." Douglas told James, taking his control over everything and letting James know he was the commander.

Douglas took out a map of the area around Eilean Donan, as well as the lochs that led to it. They looked at it carefully and started positioning men in places to attack from. Both James and Douglas had broad smiles on their faces as they planned the attack.

Harlan Douglas sat in his camp, still grieving over the loss of his sons and nephews. He had prepared himself for trouble happening, but not the loss of every one of them. An unknown rider on horseback approached the camp and his men quickly surrounded him and questioned him why he was there. 

When the rider showed them a piece of black and grey tartan that belonged to one of the boys, he and several others had found, they walked him to Harlan and had him explain what they found. The man stood without fear or trepidation, as he started re-telling Harlan why he had come.

"Douglas, I'm a fisherman, doon the coast on Seil. Three days past, oor nets caught hold of three bodies. They were in a very, bad state, but we saw their kilts and knew the tartan was yer's. We figured at first they'd had a problem in their boat and drooned, but we noticed they all had their feet tied. They've been buried near my village, at oor cemetery, but I came tae let ye know what we foond." he told him, as matter of factly as he could.

"What's yer name fisherman?" Harlan asked him, looking at the section of tartan being held out to him and took it.

"Eamon McGregor." he told him straightforward.

"And ye say ye found them where, McGregor?" Harlan asked, trying to piece together the night of birlinn raiding, as Sloan Fraser had described to him. 

He remembered where the last birlinn was to be taken from and it was the same island. His suspicions rose, as he listened to him.

"Off the coast of Luing, a day's ride from here." Eamon told him, pointing back in the direction he'd come from.

"I ha'e a question I need ye tae answer. Think carefully, before ye do. Was there any arras in them?" Harlan's question was said in earnest, but a hint of rage was settling in behind it.

"Arras? No, there were'ne any arras stuck in them, no even any other cuts or marks. Just their feet tied. We thought that tae be strange and no a mishap on the sea. So it was agreed tae ha'e me come and let ye's know what we foond." Eamon's words were said instantly, in surety.

"Ye've done me a great service, Eamon. More than ye know. Go wi' my men and they'll see tae ye getting food and drink and a place tae sleep fer the night. Before ye leave, I want directions tae yer village and where ye buried the bodies." Harlan told him, the rage clearer and ready to let go, but held back from being directed at Eamon.

Eamon went with the men and was given a bowl of stew and a cup of ale, along with a large chunk of bread. He sat with them and talked of what he saw and where he fished. 

Eamon was quite happy to have the company after a long ride alone, when his travelling companion broke off and travelled further north to see his cousin.

Harlan had his captain and his two lieutenants join him for a walk. He held the swatch of ragged cloth in his hands, putting the two stories together in his mind.

"Kenneth, what do ye make of Eamon's story? Do ye think he could be lying?" Harlan asked him, looking back at Eamon eating with his men, his mind confused with loss and rage.

"I don't think so, Harlan. Why would he ride fer a day, just tae lie tae us? And why were their feet tied? Fraser told us that the lads were attacked wi' arras, by the clan they tried tae take the birlinn from, and no arras were seen." Kenneth replied, he himself trying to make sense of both accounts.

"I'm starting tae think Sloan Fraser is a bloody liar. His story of hoo things happened, just sounds wrong in my mind, it always has, e'er since he told me it. I'm starting tae get a different picture of hoo things happened that night and I don'ne like what I see in my head." Harlan's dark, grey eyes started flaring out the rage, as he spoke.

Kenneth saw it and his thoughts meshed with Harlan's. Soon the two lieutenants realized the erroneous nature of Fraser's story as well. All the men stopped and looked at one another in raged thought. Harlan cursed through his teeth, as he spoke out his anger.

"Those Fraser's ha'e done this, I don't know hoo, but I feel it in my bones. They killed my boys."

Kenneth answered to him first, with his thoughts.

"If they did'ne get killed wi' arras, and their feet were tied, it had tae been them that done it. They must'ae stole the birlinns first and waited till they were away, before they killed them and bound their feet. But why tie their feet? It does'ne make sense, does it?"

"No, Kenneth, it does'ne. But if the Fraser's ha'e done it, it was something they did against MacRae's orders. And those orders were clear, they were'ne tae touch another one of his men, or they'd ha'e tae deal wi' him. Ye'll come wi' me the morrow and see James MacRae aboot this. We'll bring Eamon wi' us too, just tae make sure he knows it right. Mark my words, men. Sloan Fraser and his clan will no be alive, once MacRae and the other clans deal wi' this."

The look of vengeance roared among the men. Harlan looked at them all, a show of accord in their eyes, that they wanted to see justice for the deaths of the five boys. It was Harlan's cousin, Killian, who asked his observation of the events.

"Harlan, they only foond three bodies, what do ye think happened tae the other two? And who were the boys they buried?"

Harlan's rage blurred, as he thought of Killian's question. Which three were found and which two were missing? As the answer came to him, so did the dread of knowing it. He had to go with Eamon and dig up his boys, to know who they were. The four turned back to the camp, the repercussions solidifying in their minds, what lay in store for the Fraser's and what lay in store for them in Seil.

Castle Stalker was quiet, still in mourning for Cameron Stewart. A low fire burned in the chieftain's chambers, as Braedon Stewart sat looking forlornly out the window, his son's wooden sword laying in his lap. He thought back to seeing him practice with it against his brothers, right outside this very window. 

He remembered how his talent at manoeuvres and attacks was unmatched by anyone his age, or some of the older ones. He held it in his hand and made a few swings with it, thinking of what it meant to Cameron, to take his place at his side and use a real sword. He knew in his heart Cameron had great bravery and felt he was ready to stand at his side in battle. But it was a battle he himself wanted to lead and show him the right way to attack and why orders are given for a reason.

He held it gently in his hands and shed tears onto it, knowing he couldn't have asked more of a son. His pride in him grew, knowing his son was showing that bravery, even against all orders, he wanted to prove himself a man. He felt more pride swell in himself for Cameron, knowing his actions were done in the name of Stewart and the bravery to face danger and even death. But no matter of the bravery shown, the loss of so many men from his son's decision to sail, also weighed hard on his heart. 

How could he face Arabella, knowing his son had cost the lives of so many of her clansmen? He had offered his alliance and failed them, lessening their chances in winning. What good was he to them, if they lost more men to a mistake, than men dying in combat. He looked once again at the sword and felt himself wanting to cry, in his heart, not sure if it was grief, or if it was shame. As he sat wreaking havoc on his heart, a rider approached the castle with news. Something that would be of great interest to him, in the days to come.

While Stalker remained hushed in silence, plans were being made to take it over by the Fraser clan. Sloan and Blain had reconnoitred the area well, looking at the times the tides were right for close attack by their new birlinns. They looked at the land bridge and when it offered the earliest time to approach from there. 

They sat in their camp, the numbers of their men being divided into sea and land troops, best utilizing their chances for success. It was their initial hope they could avoid an actual battle and have the Stewart's submit to a show of force. If they didn't, they were ready to make them submit, or die if necessary.

Dunollie had become a foregone conclusion for them to take easily. They knew Andrew MacDougall was sending the majority of his men into battle. His defence against attack was extremely weak, thinking he wouldn't come under attack, while he was raiding the castles in succession. Never did he suspect an attack from them.

One hundred and fifty miles away, Douglas Wallace's half brother, Thomas, watched the procession from the rampart walls of Carlise, of two, thirty two pound cannons being drawn by large, draught horses, a hundred mounted cavalry, which led another hundred soldiers on foot, two platoons of Pioneers and finally followed by more carts of supplies. He wanted a piece of what his cousin was hoping to get and felt he deserved a very large piece. He went to the far, west side and looked towards Solway Bay, the furled sails of the frigate HMS Justice in port, would soon be set, along with one hundred and fifty more men aboard. It was being readied to sail out of the harbour towards a rendezvous on the Island of Tiree. The chosen place was on the northern coast, a secluded harbour awaiting them and the company of allies.

It was only thirty miles from that point to Tioram, a fast sail in with the ocean breeze and currents. In just more than a month's time, everything would be in position to take the castle and then take the lesser defended Camus. Andrew MacDougall already knew the plan and when he had to have all the birlinns massed for an attack. Iain MacLean sat with him and heard the plans, how he and his clansmen would be meeting with the English and then making for the shores of Moidart and use cannon fire to blow open the gates . He was already thinking of how he would rule from his new castle.

In France, the deputy sheriff had rode through the night as ordered and made the Sheriff's office in Rennes, in the early morning hours. He was greeted with a surly scowl for the disruption to Moreau's rest, but it changed rapidly to great concern, once he read the letter and heard the story from the deputy. In minutes, he had left to get dressed and shortly after, both he and the deputy were riding to Paris to inform the King.

They were presented to him in quick fashion, the kidnapping of a recently appointed Lady of title, becoming a grave matter of concern. Once the details of Scottish men kidnapping her while using an royal galley, brought this to an international level. He called in advisers and his military leaders and discussed ways of getting her back, hopefully without starting an incident that would start a conflict with England, or Scotland. The inroads to making ties with both countries was tentative at best and much desired.

It was decided to send three war ships to Scotland and with a show of force, have Lady Therese returned to the shores of France, hopefully without incident. If a conflict broke out, Henri knew of allies in Scotland and England he could rely on for support. It was his hopes King James would comply and not side with the Earl of Huntly in his actions. It was his hopes too, the English queen, Elizabeth, had no part in it either.

The sheriff returned with the deputy to Rennes two days later and sent a dispatch with him to his local sheriff, explaining the actions to be taken. The deputy would also be riding to Trecesson and informing Giles of what was happening and the steps being taken to bring about the return of her Ladyship to Trecesson once more. After he left, Ormand Moreau sat and pondered the prior events of Therese's life and the trials and tribulations such a young woman had had to face. He made a silent pledge to himself to have her guarded from any further turmoil to her life, his hope that she would one day know a peace in it.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 26



Argus could see the guests were getting restless, waiting for Stuart and Tavish to return. Dunking the last few bites of shortbread finger in his drink, he stood up and tapped his spoon against his glass. He got their attention, but looks of worried trepidation wore on their faces.

"Och, stop yer worrying. All the good bits are done, so I'll just tell ye's hoo Grayson came up wi' the idea tae pay homage tae Jacob Dornie. I swear there's no nasty, evil stuff in it. I promised, remember?"

A relieved look replaced the worry on the guests, as Argus took a sip of drink and started in.

*************************************

The pyre started to crumble, as the flames ate away at the wood. The congregation on shore were hit with a blast of heat, as the fire was condensed to a heap of burning logs. Gregor silenced his pipes, as Grayson and Sorley led Anne and Heather away. They helped the Ladies mount their horses and led them back along the shore, a group of people lighting the way with torches for them.

As they rounded the point and started along Duich's shores, Grayson stopped.

"What is it Grayson?" Anne asked him.

Grayson looked to her and then Heather and Sorley, before answering.

"I ha'e an idea tae pay the homage ye were wanting tae gi' tae Jacob, as well as increase the prosperity of yer lands."

Anne looked at him with a sense of wonder, at how this man before her had not only given her son and family a tribute of great honour, but was now telling her he could provide her with a way to give thanks to the man who had saved her life and that of her clan.

"What is it ye wish tae do, Grayson?"

"I had a thought gi'en tae me, after we were finished preparing...," Grayson left out what they had just done, "It was right here that it came tae me. A village, Anne. Right here on this shore where we stand noo. It'll increase yer prosperity, as well as help wi' defence. Ye can call it Dornie and gi' the man the honour ye wish tae show him."

Grayson stood looking at Anne after telling her, then to Heather. He waited for a response to what he had said, but only the most heart-felt smile came to Anne's face. She asked to be helped down and Sorley assisted her. She came to Grayson and stood before him, her admiration clearly showing in her eyes, even in the torch-lit darkness. She reached up and gently touched his cheek with the palm of her hand, her eyes once again welling with tears.

"Thank ye, Grayson." was all she said, before she hugged him tightly.

Grayson felt the happiness in himself swell, knowing her answer was given so lovingly. Heather asked to be helped down and she too hugged Grayson with deep affection. 

"Let's get everyone back tae the castle noo. We can talk of it there." Grayson told them, still worried about MacRae having any men watching the area and having a chance of doing harm to them.

Anne and Heather took each of Grayson's arms and walked with him back to the castle. Sorley led both horses and stared at the man before him. For all his lack of contact with Grayson, he felt a deep sense of honour and pride in knowing him. He felt in his heart, he had met a man worth admiring, not just for the dedication to duty he had shown, but the true love of his people he openly displayed. Sorley felt a dire need to do whatever he could to assist in defending Donan and the MacDonnell's, but also the MacDonald's and their holdings as well.

The throng of people entered the grounds and soon broke up and went about their lives once more. The only difference now, was the closure and pride for their clan they held in their hearts again. Grayson led Anne and Heather into the hall and sat them down, while Sorley came in with his son Randal and joined them. They sat and talked of how big a village it should be and how it should be constructed. Grayson gave out all his ideas that he had imagined, allowing them to visualize it in their minds. 

As the night wore on and the fires grew dim, everyone started to make their way to bed and much-needed sleep. Grayson, Robert, Sorley and Randal sat in the hall, still quaffing cups of ale together. It wasn't long, before the talk turned to the prior events that Sorley had faced. The telling of how the English had massacred his people on Rathlin Island and then of his son being beheaded, left Grayson and Robert feeling their trials in life were minor in comparison. Sorley brought Grayson up to date, with his sailing to Tioram and dropping off Therese with Arabella and Garreth, before they made their way to Donan. Grayson smiled to himself, knowing Garreth was out of danger and healing well. He also held a gladness in his heart, knowing how seeing Therese again, would make his heart fill with joy.

By the wee hours of the morning, they had created a bond of trust and respect for each other, that solidified their commitment to aid and assist each other in any way possible. A sense of family, beyond distant kinship, grew between them and as the first echoes of light appeared, they made their way to rooms and slept soundly. Grayson closed his eyes and only one thought remained in his mind. His love for Heather. He resolved to himself, that at the first moment it was possible to ask, he wanted to take Heather's hand in marriage. He knew in his heart and mind, his offer would be accepted by her and finally dwelt in the land of dreams, imagining themselves together.

*******************************************

"Okay, that was'ne so bad noo, was it?" Argus asked them, after finishing.

The guests smiled at him and some gave a small clap of applause, as well.

"I'd tell some more, but I want Stuart tae finish up aboot Garreth and Therese meeting again. I know ye's are all anxious tae know what happened between them. I am tae, because I don't know what happened either." Argus told them.

Stuart took the wooden box with the Luck of Dunvegan and handed it to Tavish, as he locked the door to his office behind them. They walked back into the hall and Tavish handed Stuart the box and sat beside Argus again. Argus leaned close to Tavish and whispered what he had said to them and Tavish smiled and clapped Argus on the back.

"Nicely done, Argus. Stuart has something noo, that will take away any feelings of doubt, that we can see on their faces, as we tell them all this. Wait till ye see their faces when he opens that box in front of him." Tavish whispered quietly, not wanting to give away the surprise of it.

Stuart called for attention and was given it immediately, everyone's curiosity peaked with what was in the box before him.

"I know that some of ye's don't really believe what we're telling ye's, that it's all a fanciful tale. I've decided ye need some proof and let ye's see fer yerselves, that it's all true. The first thing I want tae show ye's, is this." Stuart told them and unlocked the box. 

Everyone came around the table to him and strained to get a good look. When Stuart felt they were ready, he opened the box and heard the gasps of surprise fill the room. He held the box up and showed the two inch, rounded stone to everyone, the bull's head detail only slightly worn away from centuries of past chiefs holding it for luck.

Looks were given to Stuart in total amazement, seeing actual proof of something he had described, now being shown to them. Once everyone had studied it to their acceptance, he closed the box and left it in front of him. 

"I know ye's were ha'ing a hard time believing all we've told ye, so far. It does soond like quite the tale. But rest assured, I ha'e more tae show ye's later on. This is nothing, compared tae what I ha'e waiting in my office. Am I right, Tavish?" Stuart said and turned to Tavish beside him.

"Aye, it's true. I know what Stuart has fer ye all tae see later. There'll no be one shred of doubt or scepticism among ye's, after ye see it. That's a promise." Tavish spoke with complete confidence it was so. 

Argus motioned for Stuart to come to him, so he could whisper.

"I ha'e something as well, remember and I know yer dying tae know what it is. I'm just waiting fer the right moment in the story tae tell it. Noo, I finished telling of the tribute and homage paid tae the MacDonnell's and Jacob Dornie and left off wi' Sorley and Grayson. I told them ye'd pick up wi' Garreth and Therese and what happened at Tioram after she arrived."

Stuart clapped Argus on the back and smiled at him. It was smile of thanks, for not upsetting the guests again and also because he was enjoying the suspense of Argus' news. He stood back up and looked at everyone, still marvelling at seeing an actual piece of history. He tapped his glass for their attention and no hesitation was made, as they took their seats and give him their undivided attention once more.

"Noo, as Argus has just told me, yer all waiting tae know aboot Therese and Garreth and what happened after she arrived." 

Nods of agreement were given and all were settled down to hear of their hero and heroine and what happened between them.

*****************************************

Garreth led Therese to an area they had privacy in and held her closely, relishing the feel of her body against his. They parted, only slightly and with the briefest of moments to look at each other, their lips met and they kissed each other with all the love their hearts held for each other. Sounds from the kitchen had them stop, so Garreth led Therese up to Arabella's chambers, where once again, behind closed doors, their lips sought out the means to express their love to one another.

When their passions were sated enough to stop, it was Therese who spoke first and asked what had happened to him. Garreth told her of what had happened in the Earl's office and how Douglas was declaring Eilean Donan to be held by the MacRae's. He explained how the Earl had thrown a paper weight at Grayson and how it bounced off his chest to the floor. Even through the seriousness of what Garreth was saying, Therese had to laugh at the scene in her mind that Garreth described. He told her how he had bent down to pick it up and the cross came out and the Earl saw it.

Therese looked at Garreth's chest, hoping her cross was till around his neck. Garreth pulled it out and showed her it was safe and kissed it, before tucking it back under his tunic. Therese smiled her happiest, knowing her love had protected her one treasure. Garreth looked at her with expectancy and Therese knew he needed to see his heirloom as well. She opened her small satchel and took it out and held it in her palm. Garreth placed his hand over hers and smiled, as he once again kissed her.

Garreth told of how Grayson and him escaped from the office and were riding out of the castle, when he was struck by the arrow. Therese showed great concern about what had happened, so Garreth raised his kilt and showed her the healing wound, still red and swollen. Therese's face showed her concern, but Garreth laughed and said he was fine, that he had suffered far worse in battle. They moved to sit in the chairs beside the fire and Garreth asked what had brought her to Tioram.

Therese explained her return to France and soon after, the trial and hanging. Then she told him of her appointment by the King, declaring her as Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson and the charter giving her the chateau and the estate. She went on to say how she had been out riding that same day, when she was clubbed and taken to St. Brieuc. She told him she was being taken back to the Earl and was going to be forced to marry him, against her will.

Garreth started to fume at what she told him. The anger and rage at what the Earl had done to her, set a fire ablaze in him for vengeful justice. He listened to what Sorley had done to the two lieutenants and felt some justice was dealt out. He asked where they were now, but Therese could only say that she never saw them again, once she went into the castle. She told him how well she was treated by Sorley and his men and then their assistance in bringing her to Tioram, bringing Garreth up to date with the events, as they happened.

Garreth pulled her to him and held her close, wanting to show how much he cared for her. She looked up into his eyes with hers, the love they held clearly showing in all its depth. He rose from the chair and genuflected before and took her right hand in both of his. He looked into her eyes and with all the power of the love in his heart, he asked her to marry him. Therese's eyes filled with tears of sheer happiness and knelt before him, holding both his hands in hers. It took no more than her saying the single word, "Yes," to set their hearts on a course for a blissful journey together. Once more their lips joined, but now the kiss held a promise, one as man and wife.

Garreth and Therese wasted no time in coming back into the hall. Most of the people had left and gone back to what they were doing, or to their assigned positions. Arabella sat in front of the fire, a look of distress worrying her face. Garreth silently asked the attending staff to leave them, which they did, without question. Arabella stirred from her thoughts, as she noticed the staff leaving and turned to the couple at her side.

"Bella, we ha'e an announcement tae make. I've asked Therese tae marry me and she's accepted." his was voice calm sounding, but full of the emotion he was holding inside. 

Arabella looked at Garreth and then to Therese. It took all her will-power to swallow her pain and force a smile of happiness to her face. She rose slowly and came to them, holding her hands out to them. As they took one each, the tears in her eyes flowed, her smile disguising them as tears of happiness.

"Therese, Garreth, I could'ne be happier at hearing yer news. I know ye'll ha'e years of great love and joy tae share between ye's."

Therese pulled her into a loving hug, smiling with all the joy of the moment. Garreth looked into Arabella's eyes, strained with the conflicting emotions he knew she was feeling and felt the happiness in him diminish. He knew what their news must be doing to her heart, remembering the intimate moment they had just shared a couple of days past. Therese let go of her and Arabella stood in front of Garreth.

The two shared an extended moment between them, their eyes speaking volumes of their thoughts. Arabella placed her hands on his cheeks and looked with great longing and despair into his eyes. Garreth saw the pain surfacing behind her fictitious happiness and drew her to him. Therese was confounded by the unusual looks between them, their recent past completely unknown to her.

Arabella couldn't stand to feel her heart ripped apart any further and tears flowed from her eyes, her face distorted from the turmoil inside her. She released Garreth and ran from them towards her chambers. Therese stood in suspended animation, as she looked at Garreth for an answer to what had happened. He looked at her and she saw the pain in his blue-grey eyes, and tried to fathom what it was they had just shared.

"Ye'd better go and see tae Arabella, Therese. I'm hoping ye can ease her heart and the pain it holds. There's so much that has happened tae her, that she hasn't told ye and I ha'e no thoughts on what tae do tae help her." was all Garreth could summon as a response.

Therese was a mix of conflicting emotions, trying to get control over them. The extreme joys of marriage to the man she loved and adored, battled the sadness and sorrow, her best friend was feeling. She looked in his eyes and saw more was hidden in them. More than either had said or let on and her suspicions of something unsaid started to grow in her mind. She touched his arm and walked away towards the stairs, turning back once, to see Garreth standing with his bowed and his broad shoulders slumping, the stifled sound of a sob escaping from him.

Therese ascended the stairs and stopped before Arabella's chamber door and heard the weeping of her friend inside. She gathered herself together emotionally and found the strength to commit to knocking at her door. When no reply came, she was about to knock again, but decided to just enter and be with her friend. She quietly entered the room and saw Arabella lying on her bed, her face buried in the pillow and sobbing loudly. She came to her side and sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hand gently on her back.

"Arabella, sister of my heart, it pains me to see you in such a state as this. I beg of you, tell me what is wrong. I wish to help you."

Arabella caught herself in between sobs, feeling the soft hand touching her. She lifted her head and looked into Therese's eyes, clearly showing great concern for her and turned away, burying her face once more in shame.

"I can not bear to see you like this, Arabella, it pains me so, to know you hurt. Let me help you ease your suffering, tell me what it is. I won't leave your side, until I know you are at ease." Therese told her, as she stroked Arabella's long, ginger tresses.

Arabella knew she had to face her at some point in time and divulge what she held in check in her heart. She raised her head once more and looked into the loving eyes Therese held for her. She shifted her position enough, so that she buried her face into Therese's lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. Therese held her and comforted her, waiting until she had settled down enough to tell her what was wrong. Arabella finally summoned the courage to speak and sat up. She held Therese's hand tightly, not wanting to lose the love of her friend, that she held in her heart so dearly.

"I've done ye a terrible wrong, Therese. I did'ne know it was wrong when I did it, but e'en after I did know, I still knew it was something that should ne'er ha'e happened." Therese's heart sank, the disclosure this was something that involved her, making her mind race for answers.

"What could you have done, that was so bad towards me, ma souer?"

Therese's question left Arabella with no other choice but to tell her the truth. Through shameful tears of admission, she bared her heart to her friend. 

"I had relations wi' Garreth, not long before ye arrived. I did'ne know about the two of ye's. I've always held a place in my heart fer him. I've ne'er told ye this before, my darling sister, but that time back in the convent, when the Mother Superior punished me, it was my feelings for Garreth that made me want tae touch myself like that. E'en when I married Logan MacLean, I still held a spot fer him here." as she held Therese's hand to her heart.

Arabella felt the compelling need to empty her heart to Therese, the disclosure one she knew would always be held in the strictest of confidences, no matter what she told her. Arabella released the bottled up pains inside, of loving the same man as her.

"I swore tae myself I could'ne love another after he was killed. I was sure of it, but despite my reservations of it, Braedon Stewart, Chief of the Stewart's of Appin, had taken hold in me and I was sure we would be t'gether. The loss of his son has driven him away from me, e'en though I begged him tae stay. He's ne'er sent word tae me, he wants me back. I prayed tae God fer an answer tae know what tae do. I knew then that God had made me hold a place in my heart fer Garreth. He'd always been there since I was a young lass. Always so close tae me, always showing me affections, but ne'er going further than a kiss on my cheek fer my thirteenth birthday. Is he only tae be like a brother tae me, when I've wanted more wi him? How was I tae know which one he was tae me? I went wi' my heart, the way I thought it spoke tae me."

By the time Arabella had finished telling her the entire contents of her heart, Therese held Arabella to her bosom and comforted her. She was devastated by the news, but knew it was no one's fault that it happened. The two sat for the longest time, Arabella clinging to Therese, not wanting her to abandon their friendship, while Therese held her, trying to make a sense of it, to ease her own heart. Once emotion faded and reality took hold, Therese knew what her heart held to be true.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 26



"I forgive you, Bella. Let your heart be at peace and know we will always be like sisters. I will not allow this to separate us. You are not to blame, for what your heart felt was right. Garreth is not to blame either. He did not tell of us, as you say, because he was still confused by his fever. As much as there is a terrible hurt, it will pass. I still love him and I still love you, those things will never change. Dans toute me vie, j'ai souhaite avoir un ami comme vous. Je ne vous laisse jamais partir."

Therese's words were like a weight lifted from Arabella's shoulders. She raised her head and looked into the eyes of true love between friends. In her deepest expression of her love for her, Arabella held Therese's face in her hands and kissed her softly on the lips. When she felt it being returned, she knew in her heart, that all would be well between them. Their lips parted and Therese looked at the tears streaking down Arabella's cheeks. She gently kissed each one and smiled at her. Arabella found it in herself to smile once again and hugged Therese to her. They hugged until all was settled within their hearts once again.

"Arabella, we must see to Garreth, as well. When I left him, I knew his heart was heavy with the same burden you carried. We must go to him and relieve him of the guilt he has in his heart." Therese told her, knowing it would take both of them, to assure him all was well.

"Soeur de mon couer, je t'aime tellement. Comment est'ce que je peux jamais te moutrer combien vous voulez dire a moi?" Arabella told her, expressing what her heart was feeling for her.

"Je suis ainsi heureux te se sont rappeles comment parler francais." Therese replied, smiling even more that her friend had remembered how to respond in the French they were taught.

The two friends left Arabella's chambers and walked down the stairs together, the surety of their love brightening both their faces once again. They entered the hall to find Garreth sitting in a chair, his face buried in his hands, clearly weeping, unknown to them that what his mind was conjuring up was the end of his love with Therese and a stake through the heart of Arabella, a woman he dearly loved.

"Garreth." Therese softly called to him.

Garreth raised his head and turned to the voice. He looked at the two women and waited for the inevitable heartbreak to be said to him.

"Mon coeur, ne sont pas triste pour un autre instant. Tout est bon et je serai votre epouse, maintenant et pour toujours." Therese said softly and lovingly, that even though he didn't understand it at first, he knew in his heart that a peace had been made between her and Arabella.

His face went from pure grief to one of instant joy. He rose weakly from the chair and looked at them both, standing hand in hand together, the remains of their own tears drying on their cheeks. They both came to him and hugged him, relieving the burden of guilt and replacing it with the love he greatly cherished from both of them. They both used their fingers and wiped away his tears, smiling at him with happiness in their eyes. Garreth was beside himself with the affection they showed him and his tears continued to flow. The two diminutive women pulled his head down to them and both kissed his cheeks at the same time. His arms went around them and hugged them close to him. He kissed both their cheeks and then looked at Therese, showing her the face of ecstatic joy in choosing to remain his bride to be. 

With no thoughts of how his display of affection would be taken, he pulled Therese to his trembling body and kissed her with all the loving passion his heart was feeling. Arabella looked at them for a moment, now enjoying the open display of their love and silently turned to leave. She walked out of the keep, into the early evening air and breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled to herself, but in her heart, it was still a bitter-sweet smile. She still had Therese and Garreth in her life, but her heart felt the emptiness of a love she couldn't share with Garreth.

*****************************************

Stuart looked at his guests and saw the tears of sadness on most of the faces. Even the men had been touched deeply, with what he had said.

"I'll stop there and gi' ye's a chance to compose yerselves again. I know, that was a touching moment between them, wasn't it? I ha'e a wee something else tae show ye's, as well." Stuart told them and opened the wooden box once more.

He carefully took out the amulet with the top part of the inner box. Inside, carefully laid on dark, purple velvet, was a gold cross. The tiny diamonds that ran down and across, sparkled in the chandelier's lights. A solitary ruby lay in the centre and gleamed its brilliance to everyone. A thin gold chain was attached to it and Stuart moved it slightly to display the shine still held by it.

"This is the necklace that Therese ga'e tae Garreth, all those hundreds of years past. It was their wish that they remained t'gether, e'en long after they were gone. The Luck of Dunvegan has ne'er left its place but once, but that's another story alt'gether, so I won't get intae it."

Everyone came as close as they could and admired the delicate piece of historic jewelry. Several women wept openly at seeing it, knowing it was a show of love that has remained to this day. Tom and Debra took their turn at looking at it, marvelling at the beauty of both pieces. Once they moved away, Debra turned to Tom and looked at him with her deepest affections.

"I would love to have something like that, instead of rings, for our wedding, Tom. I want our love to have as much depth and meaning as Garreth's and Therese's and survive the ages, like theirs has." 

Tom could see it wasn't just a fanciful wish, but something that had truly touched her heart to want for them.

"You know, Babe, I'd really like something like that too. As much as I want to have a wedding and share my love with you, I want it to be something special and have a greater meaning than a ring and a piece of paper, that says we're man and wife."

"What would ye's like tae do, then? Any ideas?" Stuart asked them. "Sorry, I could'ne help but overhear ye's." he apologized to them, but still wanting to know.

"That's okay, Uncle Stuart. I'm not sure what we'd like to do really, right, Deb." Tom said to him and looked to Deb for confirmation.

"I can't help but want to have something as beautiful as their love, Uncle Stuart. I don't think anyone could, after hearing about them." Deb told him, with great admiration for the love they were just told about and the continuous connection that they made through the centuries.

"Ha'e ye made plans as tae where ye'll hold the ceremony?" Stuart asked them. 

"No, not yet. We haven't decided if we want a church wedding or just a civil ceremony." Deb replied.

"I've got something in mind, if ye's are willing?" Stuart told them, a knowing smile coming across his face.

"What's that, Uncle Stuart?" Tom asked, intrigued by what he was thinking of.

"How would ye's like tae be married here, at Dunvegan. The same way Therese and Garreth were joined?" 

Stuart's offer stunned them at first, then a look of sheer joy crossed their faces at the same time. They looked at each other and knew it would be perfect for them. Their thank you's were simultaneous and both hugged him with the deepest of affection. The other guests hadn't heard the conversation, but knew something of great importance had passed between Stuart and his nephew and future niece.

"What's all the palaver aboot, Stuart?" Tavish was first to ask.

Tom cleared his throat of a lump of joy that had formed there. He took a deep breath and held Deb close to him, as he spoke out loudly.

"Everyone, Debra and I are going to be married here at Dunvegan and do it just as Garreth and Therese did. We want you all to attend and be witnesses and share in our day. Oh, how did they get married back then, Uncle Stuart?" Tom asked him, realizing he had no idea of what they did.

Stuart had a chuckle and then made his own announcement.

"I'm going tae keep these two in suspense a wee bit longer. I ha'e tae tell ye's aboot the wedding and it was'ne just a wedding, it was a double wedding. And fer that matter, ye'll know what they did then, when I do tell ye's."

Tom and Deb looked a bit disappointed in not knowing, but knew the story yet to be told, held an answer that would make them happy. A great cheer went up from the guests and everyone came and congratulated them on their choice. Some gave Stuart a look of chastisement, for keeping the suspense going, but knew he would make everyone happy soon enough.

Once again, the guests took time to stretch and walk about, talking amongst themselves, about all that had happened so far. Tom and Deb made their way to the great hall and stood in front of the portraits of Garreth and Therese. 

"You know Tom, you kind of look like Garreth. You have the same hair and eyes, even your lips are the same. Hmmmm." Deb said, looking him over with a seductive eye.

"Well, I guess I have some of him in me. That might be a good reason that I do." Tom said joking with her, emoting silent movie expressions of good looks.

She laughed and held her hands to his face and caressed it softly, as her eyes filled with the look of love in them. In a soft, whispered breath, she spoke the words her heart was feeling.

"Graim thu go siorai."

Tom felt his heart explode with joy at hearing her say that to him. 

"Graim thu go siorai." he replied with loving joy and happiness in his eyes.

Oblivious to everyone around them, they embraced and kissed with abandon, their love deepening more, as they knew in their hearts they had created a memorable love between them.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 27



The dark, purple clouds hung low on the mountains, heavy with moisture and were releasing their burden rapidly. The fierce winds were driving it on a slant, almost level to the ground, but five riders were mounted and ready to ride north, soaked already but unconcerned with the weather. Harlan looked at his clan and then to the others riding with him. Eamon had agreed to go to see James MacRae and explain what they had found to him. He was completely unaware of the ramifications his disclosure would cause. 

They rode off from Oban's shores, keeping to the fastest route to Ballachulish which Harlan felt was a sail up Loch Linnhe in one of Andrew MacDougall's birlinns. The two mile ride felt like twenty, the ground sodden from rain, as the five men rode to the gate and were recognized. They dismounted and tied the horses up, before walking into the keep, immediately taking their sheepskins off. 

Andrew came down from the third floor and saw the soaking wet men standing by his fire.

"Douglas, why are ye here?" 

"MacDougall, we need ye tae sail us tae MacRae. I ha'e something he needs tae hear and so do ye." Harlan told him, in such a way that Andrew felt was necessary to listen to what was to be said.

"Who's this ye ha'e wi' ye?" Andrew asked, noticing that he didn't recognize Eamon.

"This is who ye ha'e tae listen tae. Eamon, tell Andrew MacDougall, what ye've told me."

Eamon was unsure of what was going on and how it affected all these men, that Harlan wanted him to relate his story to. He looked around at all the strange men and then to Harlan, who gave him a nod to start. He related everything exactly as he had told Harlan, the day before. Once he finished, he looked at the deep, brown eyes of Andrew MacDougall, growing darker and more sinister in content. He began to fear he would be held in account for his words.

Eamon turned to Harlan for assurance he was safe from persecution and received the nod of approval he sought to ease his worries. Knowing he was now safe, his mind raced for answers, as to why this was involving so many men, from so many clans.

"Douglas, why is this something I must tell tae so many?" 

"Those boys, my boys, were murdered. Ye know that tae be the truth yerself, McGregor, ye know in yer own mind they were. I'm taking ye tae tell the Chieftain of oor clan alliance, James MacRae. Only he can make the decision tae do something aboot it, but I want vengeance fer this. Ye would tae, if it was yer own blood, Eamon." Eamon knew in his heart, the words Harlan spoke were fact. "So we're going tae see MacRae noo, and we're going tae see him as fast as we can get there." 

It became apparent instantly in Eamon's mind who he was. He was Porrohman, a harbinger of death. A darkness to an unknown number of people, who would suffer at the utterance of his words. Against his heart's own wishes, his mind played out scenes of horror he knew would happen, as a result of what he had caught in his nets that fateful day. He had unwittingly made himself an executioner and his voice was the axe. 

MacDougall called for two of his men, his younger brother and captain, Bruce and John, his cousin and lieutenant to join him and ready the birlinn for the sail. Harlan and his men, along with Eamon, followed him outside once again, the drenching rain casting a misery to the scene. Eight men boarded the sea-tossed boat and pushed off, straining against wood and water to make open sea. Eamon pulled on the oar, but his effort wasn't matched to the others.

Harlan watched him from the prow and knew his heart was heavy with the burden he was carrying. He came and relieved him of his position and told him to go forward. Eamon stood at the prow and looked forward, out towards his destination. The angry seas, tossed eight foot waves that smashed against the bow and soaked him. The sky was illuminated with the streaks of lightning and the thunder roared over the wailing winds. He knew he was facing the judgement for his soul, and he began to pray for it.

The storm grew in force, churning the waters up, the driving winds turning them into larger waves. Eamon looked back at the men in the boat, and looked into Andrew MacDougall's eyes, as he stood at the stern. He could see the deaths he knew he would commit, knew in his own heart he had given that order for him to commit them. Looking skyward, he knew there was no reason to ask God why he was chosen to do this, he would know soon enough. For whatever reason it was, he hoped his soul wasn't damned for eternity. He turned back around and looked at the seas he had sailed, the waters he fished, the life he had lived, the seas that gave him his life.

The loch was a turmoil of violent water, as the birlinn fought its way north. Passing Lismore Island, Eamon knew it was the moment of truth in his life, if his beliefs in God were to be founded. He rose up the side of the birlinn and looked once more into MacDougall's eyes. It was all he needed to commit himself to God's hand. He jumped from the boat and let the waves carry him to his destiny, life, or death, by the judgement of the sea.

Before anyone could re-act, he was carried away from them, the waves taking him towards the coast. Only Andrew MacDougall had the chance to look at him, and watch, as he rose and fell in the swells, while the others strained on the oars to fight the currents. Farther and farther, he watched Eamon being taken away, rising and falling in the churning water. He looked past him and saw the breakers pounding the small atolls, the waves rising up in massive, curling froths and engulfing the land completely. 

Eamon was picked up and carried on an ever-rising wave. To MacDougall's perception of it, it was at least ten feet high and gathering volume. As it raced in, it peaked, Eamon high on top, before it curled over and took him plummeting down to the rocky ground. The force of the wave crashed against the rocks, then carried over and past the atoll leaving the surface bare. MacDougall scanned the surface for any signs, straining to see through the wind-driven rain. The surface was clear of anything, nothing resembling a body could be seen on the rocky ground, the evidence of Eamon McGregor erased.

Harlan had watched as much as he could, looking at the last moment when he saw him going down. Just dropping from the height of at least ten or twelve feet was deadly enough, but the addition of tons of water crushing him down onto solid rock, told him what he had heard from Eamon, was now lost with him. He knew enough of them had heard Eamon to tell MacRae the story and seek the vengeance that ate into every man's heart, more-so, into his own.

They sailed on, Harlan and Andrew looked at each other and silently agreed this wouldn't deter them from seeking the revenge for the acts done. Approaching the entrance to Loch Leven, the crosswinds and conflicting currents were making it harder to keep the birlinn on a stable course. The narrows were only five hundred feet across at the narrowest part and the mountains were funnelling gale-force winds through them. Normally a pleasant sail past in calm waters, it was now a challenge to the greatest of sailors. The currents and winds shifted constantly, the storm intensifying in fury, as Andrew tried to judge the best route through. He stayed closer to the port side, watching the turbulent swell of water gathering in the middle,

From behind, they were unaware of the approaching mass of water, bearing down on them and travelling fast. Waves rebounding off the far shores of Ardgour, collected with the tidal surge creating a rogue wave. The Corran Narrows held the water back, forcing it to take the natural path of least resistance and headed it into the bay. In an instant, the 

birlinn was rising higher and higher. The men looked out the sides, paralysed in progressive fear, as they continued to ride the crest of the massive surge. With no direction of their own, the water sent them down, losing its strength after hitting landfall. Hitting bow first, the mast snapped off and fell over the prow, the sail covering everyone. The seven men were driven towards the ground in uncontrolled force and oars drove the men back up even faster as the blades made contact with the ground and folded towards the bow, like the fins of a fish. 

The sounds of large bones breaking and the screams of agonizing pain, cut through the wailing winds and lashing rains. The birlinn slammed down on the keel again, snapping like the bones of the men. Not one man stirred or moved, the birlinn now jammed tight in a rock formation. 

On a tiny dot of land, no more than the size of a birlinn, a hand clung to a rock. The bloodied fingers dug into the nooks and crevices, clinging in hope. Another hand weakly came up and soon after a desperate struggle, Eamon McGregor found enough ground to lay himself on and rest. He could feel the jagged pain from breathing and knew his ribs were broken. He tried to move his feet and felt the acute agony of a broken right ankle, informing him he wasn't paralysed. 

In a strained effort, he turned his face skyward, looking into the angry clouds. "Thank ye, God," was all he could manage, before feeling a darkness sweep over him and he passed out. He was never touched by another wave again, as the storm settled down in fury and the winds diminished. In his last moments of awareness, he knew his soul was spared from seeing the horrors of hell he had created.

Morning broke over the waters of Loch Linnhe and the sun cast its rays into the face of Eamon McGregor, beckoning him to awake. Squinting hard, he realized he would be living another day and weakly smiled. In pained effort, he pulled himself completely onto dry land and lay there looking about. To his north-east, just over a mile away, lay Castle Stalker. With no way to draw a breath with broken ribs, he realized God had silenced his voice as well. He lay and prayed for forgiveness for what he had done, trying to realize what sin he had committed.

Coll Stewart and his cousin, Griffin, set out for a sail, in the calmer, morning waters, the small sailboat big enough for four men. It had been Braedon's order, that the waters be patrolled after a storm and assist anyone in need. Heading out of Appin, they took the inner channel south and looked along the coasts of the mainland and Lismore, for wrecks or bodies. Tacking back and forth, they made their way down and rounded the end of Lismore to the open waters. Without knowing it, they had passed the hiding spot of the stolen birlinns. A small inlet that wound to the left, was all it took to hide them and then cover them over. 

They both kept watch on the coast, staying close enough to it, to get a good look. Other than trees and other natural debris, nothing dire seemed to have happened from the violence of the winds. They wound through the inlets and coves on the north end and headed across to Shuna Island, a mile and a half away. The teens loved sailing and had spent countless hours sailing this boat together. They sat and talked of the times they had sailed against Cameron and Loman, the two younger siblings, pitted against the two older. They laughed at how they had bested them on many occasions, catching the wind better than them and sailing past, waving with smug smiles of triumph on their faces.

Neither saw the arm raised on the atoll as they came abreast of it, their focus still on themselves. They sailed on without paying attention, until a gut-wrenching scream alerted them. Just as Eamon's arm dropped, Griffin caught sight of it and pointed to Coll where to head. In moments they were wending back and forth against the wind to the atoll. The 

quarter mile seemed to take forever to Eamon, for the sail to make it to him. He held enough strength to hold his hand off the ground to them and finally from the pain, passed out again.

Coll and Griffin raced to him and saw he was alive, but heard the raspy sound in his shallow breathing, to know his ribs were broken and in serious need of attention. Carefully they carried him to the boat and laid him across the centre seat. Coll took off his robes and covered Eamon with them. Griffin pushed them back out and pointed them towards Stalker, before jumping in and holding Eamon steady. The wind caught fast and they were soon bent from it and making all haste to the castle.

Coll shouted and waved to the lookout, as they approached, getting his attention. The lookout saw the body lying across the bench and shouted down for a stretcher and bearers. By the time the boat was secured, the men were helping carry him out and lay him down. They rushed him into the hall and set to work doing what they could.

Braedon came down from his chambers, leaving an interesting conversation with his guest, to attend to the commotion in the hall and saw his son and nephew helping a man. He came through the gathering people and made his way to the table. He heard the laboured breathing and laid his ear to Eamon's chest and heard the puncture.

"His ribs are intae his lungs, we'll need tae set those first. Lads, help hold him, while I get his bones back t'gether."

Braedon guided the boys through each way he wanted them to pull, feeling the fracture with his fingers. When the ends came together, he had them ease off slowly, while he kept hold of the bones making sure they didn't move. Eamon's breathing eased and he drew in a clearer breath. Braedon felt along the man's body, looking for signs of any more fractures. He didn't need to feel the ankle to know it was broken. The swelling and dark, purple skin, was enough to alert him. The wet, leather boot clung like a skin, so they carefully cut it away. The foot swelled and disfigured instantly, while Braedon felt the joint and knew it was beyond repair, shattered too much from the crushing impact of what had caused it. He knew there was only one thing to be done and that was to amputate it. 

"Coll, fetch my sword."

Braedon told his son what he wanted, but Coll stood in awe of the moment, still not comprehending the gravity of the situation.

"COLL! my sword, noo."

Coll broke free from his daze and ran up to get his father's sword. He grabbed it and hurried back to the hall. Braedon took his sword and held it in the embers, heating the metal. 

"Hold his leg, so his foot is over the edge of the table." he told the men.

When Eamon was ready, Braedon withdrew his sword, now glowing red with heat, and took his position. He judged his swing, then raised the blade high. With all his might he brought it down, keeping to his planned trajectory, as the blade cleanly severed the foot from the leg. Quickly he held the glowing metal to the open end, cauterizing and sealing the severed flesh and bone. Cold water was poured over the smoking and blackened remains, quickly cooling it. Everyone covered their noses from the smell, as it permeated the air. Braedon was the only one not to cover his face, as he lay his sword down and picked up the foot and tossed it in a bucket. He handed the bucket to a male servant and looked at him with a sense of ease in his eyes.

"Bury it." was all he said to him.

The man left, looking disgustingly at the bloody, disfigured foot inside.

"I'll raise him up, bind his chest wi' wrapping and it'll be God's hand that guides him then."

Braedon told the women and carefully pulled Eamon up, so the wrapping would help hold 

the broken ribs in place. Working together, the two women wrapped Eamon's chest and tied off the cloth. Braedon carefully laid him back down and checked his pulse for strength and told the women to cover him and keep him warm. If he woke up, they were told to come to him immediately. He picked up his sword and silently went back to his chambers. Upstairs, oblivious to what had gone on, his guest sat in suspense of what had transpired. 

At dawn's early light, the fishermen left Bishop's Bay and headed out towards Loch Linnhe, to set their nets. The sight of a birlinn, smashed on the rocks over five hundred feet inland, had them pulling their boats to shore and investigating the sight. They approached cautiously, the cracked and broken birlinn showing signs of breaking apart. A young man climbed the rocky outcropping and peered in under the sail to get a look.

"There's men!" he shouted and looked back to count the number. "Seven, I think they're dead."

Several more made their way up the rocks, pulling back the sail and exposing the men inside. A faint groan was heard and eyes searched for the source of life. A hand flopped backwards, signalling to them. Carefully the men pulled the battered body of Harlan Douglas from the boat and laid him on the ground. One at a time they continued taking out the bodies, hoping signs of life might appear in them.

The flopping of bodies and necks as they were lifted, told of certain death. None of the men were recognized by anyone, but one fisherman knew enough to head back down the loch a short ways and let James MacRae know what had happened on his lands. In less than a half hour's passing, James MacRae stood over the dead bodies of one of his main leaders and two of his men. James moved along and knew the bodies of Harlan Douglas' captain and lieutenants. He knelt beside Harlan, still bleeding from his mouth, knowing he wouldn't last long.

"Harlan, can ye hear me? Douglas." he shouted louder, causing Harlan to open his eyes. 

"What happened tae ye?"

Harlan gasped in for a breath and coughed out more blood. Trying slower, he drew in enough air to speak weakly.

"We were coming tae see ye aboot Fraser. They murdered my boys, all of them. A man from Seil found the bodies. McGregor. Told MacDougall as well, all the men heard him too." Harlan weakly grabbed at James. "They must pay fer it, like ye said." 

There was little evidence of any strength left in Harlan Douglas, except the fierce look of un-served justice, in his eyes. James looked back, seeing a dying man's final request being asked of him. The life-force passed from Harlan, a final gurgle from his lungs as he went limp. James could still see the demand set on his face, even in death. He had the men load all the bodies and take them across the loch and load them into his birlinn. Once again, he took stock of how his plan was going. Four of his five leaders were dead, the other one a traitor. Two captains and three lieutenants were also stricken from the leadership. How many more would be lost, before the battle even began? 

He stood and looked at the smashed birlinn, trying to imagine the wave that had carried them so far inland and crashed them into the rocks. James MacRae looked skyward, wondering to himself if the Almighty might be telling him, he was wrong in doing what he wanted to do. He looked across at Ballachulish, and knew he could never be happy with what he had. He wanted his castle, deaths and God be damned, he wanted his own power over life and death. He walked away from the shattered remains of the birlinn and sailed the two miles back to his own, now loaded with bodies.

He knew he had to take care of the dead men, then he had to take care of a dead man's request, for vengeance. He thought of what Sloan Fraser had said about that night and it never sat right with him. He would have to find out the truth and find it out any way he 

could. This wasn't just a ride for vengeance, it was a ride to uncover treachery. He had a feeling down deep in his core, that Sloan Fraser was on a different course of action. Ever since that day at Dunollie, he knew a man who had just seen his father slain, was never going to join with the men who slay him. He had misjudged the character of Sloan Fraser and it was costing him dearly in his plans for success.

He looked at the men gathered on shore. Looked at the need for battle in their eyes. He wanted them to have a thirst for blood and he was about to give them a reason for that thirst. As the bow slid up the sandy beach, MacRae jumped down and stood before his men, no longer looking at them as soldiers, but as his hand of power, the one that ruled these lands. He called his son, Iain to him, along with Leith and two lieutenants and walked back into his cottage. They sat at the table, all eyes focused on James. He sat contemplating something, something he was making sure of in his own mind before telling them. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 27



"Men, we ha'e tae take the bodies back tae their clans and let them deal wi' them in their own way. Once we've done that, we ha'e a mission tae do. One I need each and every man under me tae do wi'oot question. One that will bring a peace tae my mind and those of us who stand here. We ha'e traitors among us and they must be dealt wi', so that none of the others will think tae try anything against us again."

MacRae's words bore into each man. Every word said the same thing to each man, death was coming. In what form, was yet to be decided by James MacRae, but each knew there would be the greatest measure of suffering to accompany it. 

Braedon sat and cleaned his sword, removing the charred flesh stuck to it. His guest couldn't hold back his curiosity and had to ask what had happened. Braedon explained their rule of aid and said they had found a man on a small atoll out in open water.

"The lads figure he'd been stranded after his boat went down, but there was no sign of wreckage anywhere. There was'ne anyone else either, just him. He had a couple of broken ribs and I set them. His ankle was'ne any good. I could feel it was crushed and shattered inside and would ne'er heal right. It looked likely he'd end up wi' gangrene, so there was no choice, I had tae cut it off."

Braedon's recollection left Foster Stewart awed and amazed. He had just heard his recalling of losing his son and the shame he felt, his distressed heart at not knowing how to face Arabella MacDonald again. He himself, had only just finished his telling of his news and yet Braedon rose without question and saved an unknown man's life by his own hands. Foster had always admired his cousin. His intelligence was vast in many ways; his skills in leading men in battle were legend in the clan. He was a good chief and a man of good heart, yet here he sat before him, calmly wiping away the burnt flesh of a man from his sword. 

"Ye don't know who the man was, Braedon?"

Braedon shook his head, but Foster could see he was thinking of something. It came to him as he kept polishing, a gleam coming to the side he was working on.

"I think it was a McGregor tartan he had on. At the least, it's the right colours, I'm sure."

"McGregor, ye say? The man I just told ye aboot is a McGregor. It was his boat that caught those boys. Is that no odd, Braedon? Where is he?" 

Braedon stopped polishing and laid his sword down gently. He looked at Foster and pondered what he had just told him and weighed it against the odds of the man downstairs being the same one. He couldn't fathom it happening, but decided to bring him down. They walked down the steep, stone steps and made it to the table, where Foster saw the amputation and then looked up the body. In a dawning recognition of how Eamon 

had dressed that day to leave for Oban, it was only two steps more that convinced him.

"Eamon, Eamon McGregor." Foster shouted out in shock and went to shake him.

Before he could move him, Braedon caught hold of him and held him back. He didn't want him to move Eamon at all and upset the fractured ribs again. He moved him back a few steps and held him, until he caught hold of himself.

"That's the man ye were telling me of, the man who found those boys?" Braedon questioned him, wanting to make sure.

"Aye Braedon, that's Eamon McGregor. I've sailed the same seas wi' him fer many years. I've been tae his village and he's been tae mine. I know him, Braedon. This is all getting tae be tae odd fer me tae think aboot."

Braedon could see clearly that Foster recognized the man, but his telling of where he had gone and how he ended up more than a mile off shore, just made no sense to him at all either. He called for his servants to bring two cups and whisky to his chambers, then led Foster back upstairs and away from Eamon.

Sitting in front of the fire, Foster still felt a chill in him, that heat nor drink would ever warm. He looked at Braedon and they shared a look of wonderment. How could such events be brought together like this? He'd left the same day, travelled the same route most of the way. They were only going to tell Harlan Douglas about his boys. He needed answers and looked to Braedon with questions forming in his head, but no idea where to start.

"We were only going tae Oban, where the Douglas clan are. We were going tae tell them aboot their boys and go back. I thought tae come and see ye, keep him company most of the way. We parted after coming around Loch Feochan. Noo he's here, twenty miles north of where he was supposed tae be, but how did this happen tae him? He was riding his horse, so why was he so far oot in the loch on a wee dot of land? In a raging storm, no less. There is a strangeness at work here, Braedon."

Braedon listened to Foster recount that day and it made no sense to him either. The Douglas' didn't have any birlinns, so how did he end up there? Without the knowledge of events taking place, Braedon was left stymied with a perplexing set of circumstances to weave together. As he sat with his cousin, trying to put mismatched pieces of the puzzle together, a lone birlinn was sailing south past the castle.

James MacRae was bringing the bodies back to their people and their lands. He wanted to attend to that personally. At this point, he was completely unsure of the stability of his alliance and the clans who made it up. Once this duty was done, he would be sailing back and gathering a large force of men. Men he knew would carry out the orders, he was now preparing himself to give to them, as he sailed past the area he knew the Fraser's were in.

Loman Stewart and his youngest brother, Ewan, had sailed the northerly route, after Coll and Griffin went south. Little was seen of any troubles befalling anyone along the coast; just the branches and debris picked up by the winds and tossed into the seas. They were ready to turn back, as they reached the entrance to Loch Leven, but the sight of a dozen fishing boats had caught their attention. They ran their small sailboat onto the sandy shore and pulled it up, before investigating the strange sight the men were looking at. They questioned the men about the smashed birlinn and garnered enough information, to take back to Braedon Stewart for a report.

After they had returned, Loman made his way up to his uncle's chambers. He knocked and was bid entry by him. He stood before his uncle and his father and told of the birlinn being smashed on the shore, over five hundred feet inland. Both men had incredulous looks on their faces hearing about it and that seven men died as well. Loman relayed what he was told by the men and how they were found and how only one had lived a short while after, before he too died.

"Do they know who it was in the birlinn, Loman?" his father asked.

Braedon was feeling over-whelmed with the series of events. Each event seemed completely apart from one another, but something tied them together. Something ate at him though, something he felt was the piece that put it all together, was still missing.

"Aye. The men said James MacRae knew them all. He spoke tae the one who had lived through it. His name was Douglas, Harlan Douglas. The other name I got, was MacDougall. Andrew MacDougall was killed as well, Uncle Braedon."

Braedon's head spun towards Loman, when he heard the names. He looked back at Foster and an equally shocked look was on his face. Faster and faster the pieces were re-arranged in their minds and soon they seemed to fit together.

"I think we know hoo Eamon ended up on that atoll noo. If he'd gone tae see Douglas and then tae MacDougall at Dunollie, that would explain why they were in a birlinn. But why in God's name would they risk going oot on a night like that? It must'ae been something of great importance that needed tae be told tae him. And all ye and Eamon were doing, was telling Douglas aboot the boys he foond?

Foster had nodded in agreement with everything Braedon had said, yet his mind was still grasping for sense of it.

"Aye, we had foond the boys that day sailing, their feet tied t'gether, like I said. That's all I know aboot it, same as Eamon. And all that happening just after a few birlinns were taken the night before. God save me, Braedon, things are just no right, are they?"

Braedon's mind twitched at the hearing of stolen birlinns. The fact they were stolen the same time as the boys must have been killed, started to make some progress at putting more pieces together for him.

"Where were the birlinns taken from, Foster?"

Loman stood and watched his uncle deduce the elements he was told, into a cohesive package of information.

"No far from Eamon's village, just up the coast. Two of them. Are ye thinking this is all connected some hoo?"

"It's making more sense tae me noo, Foster. If ye's were going tae Douglas' tae tell him and they went tae MacDougall's and sailed up tae see MacRae in Ballachulish, something happened tae Eamon on the way and then they kept going and somehoo ended up as Loman says, five hundred feet on shore. Are ye sure it was that far, Loman?"

Braedon weighed his thoughts against the facts presented and couldn't imagine he was far off the truth. One thing that remained a mystery to him was the birlinn.

"Aye Uncle Braedon, I walked the distance myself. Ye can see the water had washed o'er the land, but there were no signs the birlinn was dragged. It looks like it was thrown intae the rocks, the damage was so massive. The whole prow was splintered off, from hitting the rocks. The mast had broken off and lay over the boat. That took great force fer that tae happen, even I know that. Andrew MacDougall must'ae been sailing it."

Foster didn't understand the statement the same way Braedon did and asked.

"Why do ye think that, Loman?"

"He was impaled on a broken oar. Run him straight through the gut. The men said they had tae break the oar, tae get him down."

Foster winced at the thought Loman created in his mind and looked once again to Braedon. Braedon was already in deep thought, working everything around in his mind, making a sense of events. He took a large swig of whisky and put his cup down, thoughtfully wiping his mouth.

"Loman, go back wi' yer cousin and see tae Eamon and if he needs anything, Tell Jean 

tae wrap his leg noo and put lots of salve on it. God has spared him the pain of not feeling

any of what's been done, but when he wakes, he'll feel it."

Loman bowed to his uncle and father and left the room, closing the door behind him. He stood for a moment and hoped he'd hear something, but realized his uncle and father were waiting until he was well away, before talking. He went down to the hall again and looked at Eamon McGregor, the raw, exposed end still oozing. He turned to the woman sitting beside him.

"Jean, Laird Braedon has said he is tae be wrapped noo and tae use lots of salve. If Eamon wakes up, he's tae be gi'en something fer the pain."

Jean nodded in understanding to Loman and started preparing a wrap for the amputated area. Loman watched her and helped when she asked for him to give her a hand. Upstairs, the two cousins were sitting and piecing the entire sequence of events together and still found the evidence hard to put together and make sense out of it. Braedon had his ideas, but he was keeping them to himself. His assumptions were leading him into dire circumstances, ones that meant great troubles were coming.

Loman left the rest of Eamon's care to Jean and went to see his brother and cousin and sat talking of the events of the morning. In three hours since rising, the calm, sunny morning seemed to be storming once again. This time the weather wasn't doing it, but the cost of lives and why they were dead, that cast a dark shroud over them.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 28



Grayson rose with the first, silver streaks of morning sun blazing into his eyes. He squinted and rolled over, moving away from the beckoning call to awake. He felt the pounding effects of whisky and ale in his head and knew he had drank far too much for his own good. As nature started calling him, he rose and emptied himself into the chamber pot, then contemplated returning to bed, but thoughts of Heather found their way into his head and he relished them happily. One thing that sat foremost in his mind, was marrying Heather and sharing in the love they held for each other. She had become his reason for defending Donan, more than kin or the Manrent that existed between them ever could. In his heart, he knew with absolute certainty, he would fight and die to protect her.

Down the hall from where he stood, Heather was lying in bed. She had awoke with a smile, something she found welcoming, after the many nights of tortured nightmares waking her. It wasn't hard for her to understand the source of her joy. It was all because of one man, Laird Grayson MacDonald. Her heart filled with thoughts of what he had done for her and her family, how he had brought a dire situation back from a lifetime of despair, to one of relative peace and safety. How her own self-loathing at what had happened to her and her cousins, at the hands of the MacRae's, was being washed away by his care and concern for her. She pictured his bright, blue eyes, shining with the look of his love for her and her assurance she was not being held in account for the defilement of her to give her body to him. 

He had become all that was good in her world, one so strong in presence to give her hope of forever driving away the terrors. She felt a stirring in her loins as she imagined the two of them together making love, relishing the idea of physical contact with him. Her hand sought out the growing ache between her thighs and rubbed it. The pleasure shot through her and captured her completely. She continued rubbing and felt the wetness seeping from inside onto her fingers. The slippery fluids heightened her touch and shortly later, found ecstasy sweeping through her, as orgasmic bliss was acheived.

Grayson sighed as he looked at his bared member and wished for the day to share his physical love with Heather. He lay back on the bed, looking at the timbered ceiling, watching it fade from his vision and Heather was displayed before him. If all would go well with the battle before him, his heart wanted nothing more than to be a Laird, have his Lady and share their love.

Heather lay in her bed, the afterglow still feeding her thoughts of Grayson. She knew in her heart she could be with him, no shame or disgrace to deter her giving herself intimately. She wanted to be a good wife and Lady for him, but more than anything, she wanted to bear his children and raise future Lairds and Ladies of their clans. She looked down at the faint traces of scratches streaking her breasts, hoping they would fade away completely and rid her of any visible reminders. She knew she was no longer pure of body, but her love for Grayson was. 

The day became theirs, as though it was decided by Fate to do so. The moment their eyes met, it showed to all around them, that a beautiful love existed between them. Anne caught the looks given between them and found herself smiling again. She too had lost a reason to look at life in a happy way, since her husband's and son's passing. Their love and the love Grayson had shown to the MacDonnell clan, had brought about a positive change to the people. It was the catalyst to bring a strengthening of the bond between the clans.

Glenn MacDonnell was one who benefited greatly from all that Grayson had done. The horrors of seeing most of his clan burnt to charred remains and his oldest cousin killed and left to rot in the woods, was being replaced with the sense of belonging again. Belonging to the spirit of the clan and all it meant to be part of something, something with so much meaning and the pride of giving one's all to it. He looked at his cousin, his friend, his family and felt his heart swell with a love of him. He knew in his heart that Grayson was a man he would lay his life on the line for, one he would gladly die for.

Throughout Eilean Donan, the attitudes of the people were changing, leaving the depressive weight of loss behind and moving on towards prosperity and renewal of faith. The castle and grounds were alive with people returning to the life they led before the attack, but inside everyone of them, lay the dread of the return of war and more loss.

Grayson and Heather rode out of Donan and north along Loch Duich, wanting time to be alone and away from all the eyes watching their every move. Grayson slowed and stopped, Heather doing the same, but unsure why. Grayson jumped off his horse and stood looking around them.

"A village Heather, right here. Close tae the castle fer protection and protection fer the castle as well. Farm the lands and fish the lochs, we can ha'e people come tae here as a centre fer trade. I think of Jacob and what he did in his life and how this would honour him and yer clan. I want tae help build this fer ye Heather, fer Lady Anne and the MacDonnell's. I'd like tae do it as part of yer clan."

Grayson's words continually filled her with happiness as he spoke, but upon hearing he wanted to be part of her clan, it could only mean one thing to her. Her heart fluttered, her hopes coming to the forefront of her emotions. Her hazel eyes glowed greener in moments, the joy her heart was feeling, shining through from them. Grayson helped Heather down from her horse, his heart racing at the touch.

Grayson could see the happiness in Heather's eyes, his own filling with the strength of his feelings for her. He knew no other moment could feel so right to him and he genuflected before her and asked for her hand with his. Heather slowly held it out and took his, her strength to wait for the words growing faint.

"Heather, I've ne'er been surer of what my heart feels, as it does noo. It would honour my heart, if ye'd accept my hand and marry me."

Heather's tears of joy flowed, her smile as wide in happiness as it could ever be. She touched Grayson's cheek with her other hand softly, caressing his smooth skin. She grasped his hand tighter, making a surer bond between them.

"It would be my honour, Laird Grayson, tae be yer wife and Lady of yer castle. I happily accept yer proposal of marriage." 

Heather was a monument of beauty to Grayson, as he looked up at her. His memories of earlier played rapidly in his mind, his heart quickening at the thought that that would become a truth in his life. He rose and held her hands in his, his feelings clearly showing in his eyes and smile. As the force's of nature took over, Grayson gently pulled Heather to him, Heather coming on her own willingly, until inches of nervous expectation held them apart. Grayson looked deeply into Heather's eyes and spoke the words his heart was holding back.

"Graim thu go siorai, Heather."

"Graim thu go siorai, Grayson."

Heather took no time in responding with her own heart-felt words and it took but a moment of hesitation, until their lips met in the first kiss of their love. Grayson folded her into his arms and held her close, as his lips told her all his heart wanted to say, as her lips spoke to him in kind. Their world was held in that moment, all that mattered was fulfilling their hearts' desire to share what they held.

Two smiles remained and two hearts beat with a happiness that consumed them. They re-mounted and continued their ride north. It wasn't long before they were once again in front of Jacob's cottage and the still smouldering embers of the pyre. Grayson and Heather stopped and looked at the deserted cottage, now a refuge for wildlife and insects. 

"We ha'e one last thing tae do fer Jacob, Heather." Grayson said, as he dismounted.

He helped Heather dismount and had her hold the horses, while he went and found a length of wood from the embers, still smouldering. He worked his breath on it and brought it back to a flame.

"What are ye doing, Grayson?"

Heather's question was one she already had an answer for, but wanted Grayson to confirm it.

"It would be a disgrace tae him, tae leave his home in such a state. It'll ne'er be fit fer man or beast tae live in again. It's a proper show of respect, if it's burnt doon, as much as it's a pyre tae him."

Grayson's explanation made all the sense to her. Even though he was given a warrior's send off, what remained seemed to tarnish the memory of him. Grayson took a deep breath and walked inside the cottage, instantly filling his mind with the memories of Kyle. He touched the torch to everything flammable; backing out of the door, as smoked started to billow out. He stood with Heather and held her to him, as they watched the small cottage become engulfed in flames. 

"I'll ask Lady Anne tae keep this area fer something special. Something grand."

Heather tightened her hold on Grayson's arm and felt it move to hold her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist, as he wrapped his arm and sheepskin robe around her. They stood and watched the smoke rise, the soft breeze carrying it into the trees and up the side of the mountains. When the thatched roof crashed into the inside, a shower of sparks rose, a final burst before the flames died down, to burn the remains to cinders.

Grayson turned his head and kissed the strawberry blonde curls atop Heather's head. She turned her face up to Grayson and saw the depth of his love for her, the blue in his eyes, the strongest shade she had ever seen them. Nothing could have made her feel more like living, than seeing that look in them. She silently offered her lips to him, enjoying the sensation of freely giving herself to him. His lips met hers and the emotions roared between them, rising ever higher in each of them. In their hearts, there was no reason to hold back, no reason to doubt or question.

The sound of horses coming, stopped the interlude between the lovers, making them turn away from what their hearts desired. Several men approached and stopped before Grayson and Heather. Glenn was at the head of them and spoke to them.

"We saw the smoke Laird Grayson and came tae investigate what was causing it." 

"It was something that needed doing, Glenn. Ye remember what this place was like when we came across it? It could'ne be saved. I was saying tae Lady Heather, that this site should be kept for something of importance, like a memorial of some kind, or something grand."

Grayson's words brought a remembrance of that fateful day, but he didn't let it consume him, as it had before. He nodded his head, as he looked at the dwindling flames. In his heart and mind, the smoke seemed to take away the memories of death and left his soul feeling closure to an abhorrence that affected him. 

Grayson helped Heather mount up and then mounted his horse. The group rode back to the castle, Grayson and Heather were in the lead, sharing secret smiles between them. The others saw them, but had no idea what had happened between to two lovers. No matter what the cause or reason for them, it gladdened them to see the dawning of a beautiful love being shared.

Once back in the castle, Grayson took Heather to his arm and they walked into the keep to find Lady Anne. They found her in her chambers, sitting by the fire, polishing her late husband's sword and shield. The metal gleamed brightly, not a spot or streak to mar the finish, as Anne smiled with a look of memorable love in her eyes.

"Mother, we ha'e something tae tell ye." Heather said softly. 

Anne could see the happiness on their faces and soon her's matched theirs. "Grayson has asked fer my hand and I've accepted. We're tae be married."

Anne's faced beamed with joy, looking first at the sheer bliss of her daughter, then to her new son, equally as happy with the news to tell. She laid the sword down gently and came to them, pulling each to her in an affectionate hug. She kissed Heather's cheek and then Grayson's, turning it into a deep, blushing red from her show of love.

"When will ye's marry?" Anne asked them.

"I had'ne thought as far along as that, Lady Anne. I only just asked Heather and felt that could be something tae worry aboot after, I just wanted tae ha'e a yes first, before I ga'e it any thought." Grayson spouted out, showing he had no idea about what to do. "We ha'e tae tell Arabella and Garreth and Therese. I want tae sail back wi' Sorley and Randal and see hoo Garreth is doing noo. I know this is'ne something I want fer oor wedding, but we still ha'e a battle tae prepare fer. In all of my heart, I want nothing tae spoil oor day, but the threats tae all of us remain."

Grayson's reality took some of the moment away, but enough remained that smiles and happiness would rule the day. He turned to Heather and held her.

"I'll go noo and see Sorley and make preparations tae sail. I can'ne wait tae see the looks on they faces when I tell them. I'll come back tae ye and let ye know when we're leaving, gi'e ye some time wi' yer mother tae talk aboot things." Grayson said grinning.

Heather almost laughed, she was so thrilled about him. For all his size and strength, there was a kind, soft heart that lead him and a boyish innocence that she adored. He was all and more, than her heart had hoped for. 

"Go now, my love. I'll be here fer ye. Mother and I will pack some clothing and talk while ye are gone. Hurry back tae me though, ye know I'll miss ye."

The look in Heather's eyes held him entranced. He brought her to him and kissed her lovingly, not caring that Anne happily watched their display. He broke away and walked to the door, Anne and Heather seeing the merit of his stride, knowing he was as proud as they were in the union.

Grayson found Sorley and Randal talking with some of the men, playing a game of Mumbly-Peg with a dirk. As the men sat in a circle, they threw the dirk between the feet of the man to his right, causing him to move his right foot up against the blade, narrowing the gap between them. There was little more than eight inches between any of them, as Grayson approached. Randal had the dirk and was preparing to stick it between the feet of Iain MacDonnell. Iain's face was set in fear, hoping Randal would stick it in the ground and not his foot. It was his test of courage to either keep his feet there, or pull them away.

Randal stopped his aim, as he saw Grayson standing there. "I think I hear the soond of a chicken squawking, Grayson. Ye think Iain has the nerve tae let me go one more time?"

Grayson looked at Iain, who then looked at him. Without words, Iain saw the courage in Grayson's eyes assuring him he had it in him to go again. He drew upon it and set his face. Randal looked between the two men, not understanding the bond between them.

"Off ye go, Randal. I think Iain can go another round wi' ye." Grayson told him.

Randal looked a bit perplexed at Grayson's confidence, but turned and took aim again. He looked quickly to Iain's eyes and there was no longer a fear in them, now a look of bravery replacing it. He looked at the spot he wanted to hit and let the dirk go. The blade sliced into the dirt and stuck into it, two inches away from Iain's right foot. He withdrew the dirk, keeping his foot firm on its new spot. He turned to Stephen on his right and he quickly backed his feet away, immediately getting a cackling like chickens from the men, followed by good-natured laughter. 

Sorley saw it was his turn to have Iain toss the dirk between his feet and looked at the distance and the six inches between his feet. He looked into Iain's eyes and judged him for his skill. 

"Go fer it, Iain. I think ye can do it, or are ye chicken tae?" he told him, seeing his look of confidence and strength Grayson had instilled in him.

Iain drew in his breath and blew it out, steadying himself. He looked at his spot and focused on it, as he took aim. With a quick flick of his wrist and forearm, the dirk spun several times and landed midway between Sorley's feet. Sorley moved his right foot over and left a gap of only three inches between them. Everyone looked at the gap and smiled at Iain, praising him for his skill. None more than Sorley, was happy to see a man prove his abilities and not stab his foot.

Sorley looked at Randal and smiled with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. Before Randal could make a decision, Sorley spun the blade and it stuck between Randal's feet, making him close his right foot against it, leaving less than four inches between them. Randal took the dirk and shifted to turn towards Iain. He looked at the six inches of space and then to Iain, who looked at him without fear in his eyes once more. He focused on the gap and in a flash of steel, it was sticking between Iain's feet. Iain moved his right foot and now had a little more than two inches between them.

He took the blade and held it, judging the narrow gap between Sorley's feet. Sorley looked at Iain and knew he would throw, but felt his feet would take the point. He quickly spread his feet apart, getting the instant cackle of derision and then laughter. It was now up to Randal and Iain to prove who was braver. Randal looked at the gap between his feet and put an emoted air of bravery on his face. Iain steadied himself and took careful aim, knowing in his own heart he had never succeeded in getting this far in a game before.

The blade left his hand and the thunk of metal hitting ground let everyone know he had made it. A rousing cheer went up, as Randal shifted his foot over to the blade and saw only an inch of space left. He took the blade and looked at Iain, sitting defiantly that he would remain steady and not waiver in the face of danger. Randal looked at him and then to the others, waiting for him to decide as to his decision. 

"Yer a brave man, Iain MacDonnell. I'll cede tae ye and gi' ye the win."

Randal held his hand out to him and Iain took it and shook his wrist. The men looked at each for a moment, measuring the mettle of one another. The others honoured the bravery shown by both and didn't haze Randal for ceding to Iain. They cheered Iain and clapped his back, making him smile happily.

Grayson let the moment die away, before he made his announcement.

"Men, there's going tae be a wedding and yer all tae attend."

The men looked at him with astonishment, Sorley and Randal unaware of the budding love and Stephen and Iain both smiling, as they were privy to knowing how he felt for Heather. A rousing cheer went up from all the men and they congratulated him.

"I've asked Lady Heather tae marry me and she has said she will. I've left her wi' her mother tae plan oot hoo, but I'll marry her whate'er way she wants. Sorley, we need tae make plans tae sail back tae Tioram. Heather and I ha'e tae tell Arabella, as well as Garreth and Therese. Not tae let the moment overshadow everything, but there's also a battle we must prepare fer, as well."

"Aye Grayson, yer right. We'll see Lady Anne and Heather before we leave and sail immediately. The winds and tides are right the now, so we'll make good time in getting there. Men, the time fer games is o'er, make ready the birlinn and prepare tae leave."

Sorley's men bowed to both Lairds and rushed down to the coast. Grayson, Sorley, and Randal made their way back inside and climbed the stairs to the top floor of the keep. They could hear the joyous laughter, as Heather and her mother talked, coming down the hall to them. The door was open and Grayson knocked at the frame, to announce them.

"Come in Grayson and ye as well, Sorley and Randal. I can'ne begin tae tell ye's all how happy I am. This day has brought more joy tae my heart, than I could imagine." Anne told them, beaming the happiness in her eyes and smile.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 28



"It's been my honour and pleasure tae see ye's both again and offer my congratulations tae Heather, as well." Sorley told her.

"Mine tae. Lady Anne, when I return tae our home, I'll see tae the men and make sure this castle is well protected wi' MacDonnell's and it shall ne'er fall tae the MacRae's, no as long as one man remains standing. I gi'e ye my oath." Randal acknowledged, granting Anne a peace to go with her happiness.

Anne came to her kin and held their hands with hers, looking at them with great admiration.

"When this is o'er and peace is made, it would honour me, tae visit wi' ye and see yer homelands. I'd like there tae be a stronger bond between our clans."

"It would be our honour tae ha'e ye come, Lady Anne. I'm fairly sure ye'll love the look of Eire." Sorley replied, "I wish fer a stronger bond between us as well, Lady Anne."

The entourage left Lady Anne's chambers and made the trek down to the waiting birlinn. Glenn, Iain, Stephen and Athol, along with many others, were there to send them off. Everyone boarded and took their places, setting the oars in place and awaited the signal. With a tearful goodbye to her daughter, and future son, as well as her kith and kin, Anne stood and watched, as the oars were laid in the water and the birlinn moving away from her. The light, blue sail was unfurled and gathered the winds quickly. Hands waved back at one another, as the distance grew, happiness still ruling the day. Anne stood until the last remnants of the sail could be seen, before turning and heading back to the castle once more, a smile dancing happily about her face.

   *******************************************

"Okay, now ye's know hoo it ended up being a double wedding. If I do say so myself, I think Grayson did a much nicer job of proposing, than Garreth did. I'm no saying he did'ne love Therese any less than Grayson loved Heather, just Grayson did'ne need tae rescue the fair damsel, steal her away from the evil villain and ha'e a few, eh, mishaps at home, shall we say." Tavish boasted to everyone, giving Stuart a side-ways inference, when he talked of Garreth.

Stuart laughed heartily at Tavish's poke, knowing he was trying to get him back for saying the MacLeod's were better looking. 

"Aye Tavish, it was a lovely moment between them." Stuart acknowledged. 

Everyone had to agree with Tavish, that Grayson and Heather's engagement was much more romantic in nature, but Garreth and Therese were still very much in love as well.

Argus called for Stuart to come to him and whispered.

"I need tae tell them about the MacRae raid and what they did tae the Fraser's and how things ended up wi' them. If we don't, everyone will get confused as tae how things happened later. Now, I know yer going tae tell me tae tone it down, but really, Stuart, how do I do that? Ye know how it happened and it's a big part of the story."

Stuart looked at Argus and knew he was right. His dread for Argus' dramatics made him hesitate, but felt if he warned the guests first, it would prepare them and also give a chance for those who didn't wish to hear it, to leave. He called for everyone's attention, by tapping his spoon on his glass.

"Okay, Argus needs tae tell ye's about an event that happened and I'm gi'en everyone fair warning now, that it's no a very pleasant thing tae tell. If ye don'ne want tae hear it, now's the time tae take a break and I'll ha'e Gordon come fer ye, when it's o'er. So let's take a moment fer everyone tae have a wee rest now and those that want tae hear can come back in ten minutes." Stuart finished and looked at Argus. 

He could see the joy, at getting to tell another gory event, twinkling in his eyes and hoped he wouldn't let it get too graphic. Stuart knew that history held some vile deeds that happened and Argus was quite willing to bring them into a vivid reality for everyone. He hoped he didn't rue his decision and have the guests upset again. At least this time, they were prepared for it. Argus sat happily with his drink and shortbread fingers, waiting for his moment.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 29



The birlinn pulled up to the shore and two MacRae clansmen jumped out and pulled it tight to the shore. James alit on ground and walked straight to Dunollie Castle, wasting no time in unloading the bodies. The guard opened the door before he made it to it and walked in.

"Who's in charge?" was all he shouted out in the hall.

Andrew's youngest brother, Malcolm, shouted from the second floor. "I'm in charge, MacRae," and continued down the stairs.

When Malcolm had descended the stairs and stood in front of MacRae, he waited to hear what he wanted. MacRae looked down at Malcolm and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yer brothers are dead, Malcolm. They came tae me in that storm last night and their birlinn was wrecked. Smashed tae splinters by a massive wave, so I've been told by the fishermen who found them. I ha'e their bodies in my birlinn, awaiting ye fer what ye want tae do. Ha'e some men go and bring them up, while we talk."

Malcolm stood in shock at hearing the news and the casual way MacRae related the deaths to him. He couldn't imagine his brothers dying and was totally unprepared for that event happening. He didn't have the sense of command, like Andrew did and never spoke to his men.

"Ye two, go get the men from my birlinn and bring them intae the keep." MacRae ordered two men at the door.

They bowed and left quickly to follow the order given. James put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder and led him to the fire. He stood warming himself and looked at Malcolm, a look of sorrow sweeping over him and a loss of his ability to command being evident.

"Malcolm, I know this is hard on ye tae deal wi', but I ha'e talk tae ye. Get a hold of yerself, man and listen tae what I ha'e tae say. Harlan Douglas spoke his final words tae me and told me Fraser was behind his lads being killed and not the clan they took the birlinn from. Did ye hear what he said?" James asked in hopes he had heard the whole story from Douglas.

"Aye, I did. He came here and talked tae Andrew and had another man, a McGregor, I think he was, tell him of hoo he found the boys off Luing, wi' their feet tied t'gether." Malcolm did his best to recollect the night before.

"Their feet were tied? Are ye sure that's what he said?" James questioned him, finding the actual events hard to believe.

"Aye, I'll swear tae that, that that's what he said aboot them. Their feet were tied, but no other signs of injury were on them. Andrew asked if there were any arras in the bodies and the man said there were'ne any at all. That's when Andrew made the order tae sail tae ye. He felt it was something that could'ne wait tae be said tae ye. Douglas was going on aboot revenge fer their murders and saying Fraser had done it tae his lads." Malcolm finished relating everything he could remember and James stood looking into the fire and pondered the facts of the matter.

"If this is the truth, Malcolm, we ha'e a visit tae make tae the Fraser's. I gave an order that no man under my command would touch another. I made it standing right here, ye heard it yerself. Noo, I want ye tae get at least fifty men t'gether and be marching tae the Falls of Lora at daybreak the morrow, wi' bows, arras, swords and spears. Ye'll meet up wi' the Douglas clan at the head of the valley and march north till ye get near them. Ye'll come straight up and Douglas will go tae the west tae the coast and we'll drive them in tae the centre of us." 

James' words left Malcolm feeling a mix of conflicting emotions, ones he was at odds to put together and deal with. His brothers dead at the hand of God, and now James 

MacRae wanting him to join in and deal with the Fraser's. He couldn't decide what he wanted to feel first, the grief or the anger. In frustration he raised his face and with clenched fists, screamed loudly, the echoes ringing throughout the castle. James saw the anxiety and frustration and laid a hand on Malcolm's shoulder.

"Go, see tae yer kin first and I'll take the Douglas' back tae their clan. I'll be sailing tae the MacLean's after that and getting them ready. I'm sorry fer yer loss, Malcolm, but there's no much time fer weeping. Acts against the alliance ha'e made, this is necessary tae deal wi', noo."

Malcolm fought hard with himself, coming to terms with everything happening and said to him. He nodded his answer and walked away from James, going to the door to see his brother Andrew being brought in. He slowly pulled back the robe and looked at the lifeless body, at first imagining Andrew was just sleeping. When he saw the massive hole in his stomach, the truth hit home hard. He stood and wept, as the men brought his other brother, Bruce, in. 

He looked at the covered body and hoped it wasn't as horrifying as Andrew's. He pulled back the robe and instantly saw the discolouration from the trauma he sustained. Bruising was evident, but the broken spine showing out the side of his neck, told of the painful death he had. He looked no further and covered him over again.

Once more the men came in and his last sibling, John, was placed beside the others. He was now hesitant at wanting to see what state he was in, but pulled the robe back slowly. He took one look at the battered pulp that remained of his face and quickly threw the robe back over him. James came over to him and stood beside him. He hoped seeing his brothers like this would put a rage inside him, one to command and unleash on the Fraser's.

"Do what ye must, Malcolm, I'll go tae see the Douglas' noo. Ha'e the men ready tae march. This time tomorrow, the Fraser's will be answering fer these deaths, as well as the others." he told him unemotionally, but a firmness that made Malcolm take stock of what was asked of him. 

MacRae left the castle and boarded the birlinn once again. The oars were set to and the sail raised, as they made their way further south to Oban. The distance was less than two miles that they had to go, but the time for thought, made the journey seem far longer. The men paid as little attention to the bodies as they could, wanting nothing more than to be rid of them and the growing smell of death gone. The birlinn was run aground and two men jumped out and pulled hard on the lines to bring it up on shore further.

The Douglas clan came to meet them, as James jumped down, to relay the news to them. 

"There was a wreck in the storm last night. Harlan is dead, along wi' the four men he sailed wi'. They're in the boat, but they're in bad shape. MacDougall took it hard tae see his three brothers like that. All I can tell ye's, is that it was a bloody, great wave that mus'tae picked up their birlinn and crashed it intae the rocks o'er five hundred feet on shore. I saw it myself and measured it oot. If ye told me, I'd think yer off yer head, but the birlinn is there fer ye tae see. My men will hand ye doon the bodies. I need tae know who's in charge noo, we ha'e tae talk."

A dozen men went to the birlinn and were passed down the covered bodies of Harlan and the others. They were carried to a set of rough tables in a cleared area and laid out. As the first robe was pulled back, wailing and crying broke out amongst several women and soon after, their children.

Eighteen year old, Kirklan Douglas, Harlan's last relative in line, looked at James MacRae with shock, as he was told of how his uncle, his father and two cousins, had met their deaths at the hand of God. Fear struck him deep, as he added up the number of his clan that were dead and the fighting hadn't even started yet.

"I am." Kirklan spoke out weakly, feeling he was marking his own fate by acknowledging it.

James looked at him and sized him up. He could see he wasn't a leader and had no size or strength to him. He walked to Kirklan and pulled him away from the rest, making him walk with him, as he spoke privately.

"Yer the leader of the clan? Yer the next in line? What's yer name, boy?"

"Kirklan Douglas, Laird MacRae. I was told I was next, if my father, Killian, died. He's dead, isn't he?" Kirklan started to show the strain of emotional agony, knowing the answer already.

"Aye, lad, yer father's gone." James told him with a softening in his voice.

Too many times now, James looked at young men who were head of their clans and realized he was leading an army of leaderless men. Harlan was to lead the ground troops up the River Sheil and now he looked at the boy beside him and knew he had no idea of what it took to command hundreds of men into battle. Andrew had proved himself a valiant warrior many times, but Malcolm was only a mere shadow of his brother. Iain MacLean was the only one who seemed to have the mettle to lead his clan and he too was barely out of his teens. The only new head that had anything to offer as a leader, was Sloan Fraser, now to be visited with his wrath and an example to be made of for defying him. 

"I ha'e tae get back tae see the MacLean's, Kirklan. I'll say it tae ye as a man, I can'ne see ye leading yer men intae battle, so appoint a man in yer stead tae lead. If ye can't, I will."

MacRae's request slammed Kirklan hard. It was one thing to come and tell him of his family's demise, it was another to be told he was ineffectual and useless. Kirklan reeled back from MacRae and looked at him with grief-stricken rage. The insult festered and grew in him, as his emotions ran rampant. His only reactive thought was to draw his dirk and attacked James. James stood still, as Kirklan closed the short distance between them, judging his actions. At the right moment, he drew his skean from his oxter and slashed it across Kirklan's chest. Kirklan stopped instantly and stood in shock, as a line of red appeared across his chest and grew quickly.

MacRae knew it wasn't fatal, but a debilitating injury that would take along time to heal, one that would leave an impression in Kirklan's mind. He took the dirk from Kirklan's frozen grip, tossing it aside and held his shoulders. 

"I could'e killed ye, ye know that. Ye've lost yer kin and yer no in yer right head, so I ga'e ye a reminder tae keep it, before ye think of doing something like that again. I'll choose a man among them and appoint him as leader. Noo, go and get that seen tae."

Kirklan felt the searing pain of the razor sharp blade running across his chest and radiating out in nauseating waves. He looked at the blood staining his tunic through the sliced fabric and then at James MacRae, weakening in his stance. MacRae turned him towards the people gathering and looked at them.

"See tae Kirklan's wound and I need all the men tae come forward." he barked out loudly.

His ability to take command over them, had a couple of men come and take Kirklan to a hut and lay him on pile of robes. An elderly woman, who had been tending to the dead, went in with a bowl of water and cloth and washed away the bloodied area, before she took a rough needle and course thread and started to close the wound. Kirklan screamed out, as the dulled point pierced his skin and then again on the other side. The woman paid no mind to his cries and tied the first stitch tight. She had seen enough battle injuries to know compassion had to wait, until the wound was fixed first. She turned her head and looked out at James MacRae and felt a despising of him grow in her.

The men obeyed MacRae and stood before him. He walked along the line and looked at each man carefully, sizing up what they were to him. He asked them if they had any battle experience and if they knew how to give and take commands. He picked out the three who acknowledged him and had them step forward. 

"Yer name and yer experience." MacRae asked the first man.

"MacKenzie. I've fought by Harlan's side in three battles and led men in tae some of them." he stated, with assurance of his abilities.

"Yer still alive, MacKenzie. That says ye've got the ability tae fight. Can ye lead the men, as I tell ye tae?" James was in hope of finding a suitable captain and this man had potential.

"Aye, the men will follow me and I'll do as ye command me tae do." MacKenzie told him, then turned to the ones beside him, for confirmation.

Tormod and Roland looked at MacKenzie, then to MacRae, assuring him MacKenzie spoke the truth. James looked at both men and then back to MacKenzie.

"Ye'll be the new captain of this clan, MacKenzie. Kirklan can hold the position of head, but he'll no ha'e any say in hoo the men are led. He's tae young tae lead and has'ne any wits aboot him. I can'ne ha'e a man like that, leading men intae battle. Battles are won or lost on the ability of a man tae stand and fight and no run away, or worse, surrender. Ye know as well as me, Kirklan has'ne the heart of a warrior in him."

Mackenzie, Tormod and Roland nodded in agreement, without question. James looked at Roland and Tormod, taking a measure of them.

"Ye tae, ye'll follow MacKenzie's orders?" James asked, getting nods and "Ayes," from them. "Ye'll be his lieutenants. The three of ye's, come wi' me the noo, we must talk."

James MacRae led his new officers away from earshot of the others. The wails and crying of women and children made enough noise to mask their voices, as MacRae looked at them and gave them their first command to follow.

"We're going tae settle wi' the Fraser's, and ye's know why. The MacDougall's will be joining in as well. Ye'll both march the men up tae Loch Etive, through the pass. They're camped by the Falls of Lora. I'll sail two birlinn, wi' forty men on each, I ha'e tae get o'er tae Loch a Choire and ha'e MacLean pull his birlinn out and bring fifty of his men. We'll land on the far side of them. We'll come about the foothills from the west and cut off any escape from there. Ye and MacDougall will approach from the south and east of them. When we ha'e them all, they die where they are. Fraser and his uncle, along wi' his men, heard my orders, the same as Harlan, MacDougall and MacLean all heard them. When we leave there, that clan won't exist. Their line stops there. It'll set an example tae anyone who sees it, my word is command. I hold the power o'er life and death."

The three men stood in dread of what they would be asked to do, once they had the Fraser's. They looked at James MacRae, and held a fear of him in their hearts. Harlan wanted revenge for the deaths of his sons and kin, but MacRae was exacting a measure of his own influence into it, making a statement in how it would be done. 

"I can see they ha'e the men prepared. I'll leave ye's tae pay yer respects tae them. I'll go tae MacLean noo and ha'e him ready his men and birlinn fer the morrow's raid. Ye ha'e yer men marching at first light. By the time ye co'er the five miles distance, we'll be on the far side and coming aroond. Don't disappoint me, any of ye's. Is that understood?"

"Aye, Laird MacRae, I understand. I'll be at the head of the valley by break of light and march wi' MacDougall tae Falls of Lora. I'll take our men and head tae the west side and come from the coast, while MacDougall can come straight up and join both of us. What signal will ye use tae start?" MacKenzie asked.

"As soon as yer in place, start driving them towards me and MacDougall will do the same. 

Once they're surrounded, we'll lay waste tae the lot."

James' tone and look on his face told them killing was only part of what he had in mind. As they pondered the deeds to be done, the agonizing screams and cries of Kirklan, kept ringing out from the hut, as stitch after stitch was made to close the gash. By the time MacRae boarded his birlinn, Kirklan had passed out from the pain, while the last of his forty six stitches were applied and bandaged.

MacRae sailed northwest across the Sound of Mull and rounded Eilean Musdile, the southern most point of Lismore, before heading north. He looked to the west at Duart Castle, once Iain's castle, perched high on a bluff and imagined taking it from the Campbell's in years to come. He had no ties to them and cared less if they wanted to join under him or not. He could live there and let his son rule at Donan. James liked the idea of amassing castles and lands, his rule enacted across them, the people serving him and paying their taxes. 

The twelve mile sail left James with lots of time to think of future conquests, but his head focused on the task at hand. He wanted a lasting memory of his power in this revenge. A memory set deep in their minds and hearts to never defy him again. As the river flowing down Glen Galmadale emptied into the cove at the mouth of Loch a Choire, MacRae could see several men pulling in nets onto shore. The birlinn scraped along the gravelled shore as it came ashore, MacRae jumping over the side before it stopped.

"Where's Iain? Fetch him tae me at once." MacRae barked out the moment his feet touched ground. 

One man dropped his end of the net and ran off along the river, up to the camp. In a couple of minutes, Iain was walking back with the man. 

"Laird MacRae, what brings ye tae our camp?" Iain said with a friendly smile.

His smile faded quickly as James approached and made a motion for them to walk together. 

"Get yer birlinn out of hiding, MacLean. We sail t'morrow fer the Fraser camp across the way."

Iain heard the order, but had no understanding of why. He looked at MacRae with a puzzled look, trying to make sense of it. When MacRae had walked them far enough way from the others, MacRae told him of the events of last night. Iain's face went from puzzled to shocked unbelievability. When MacRae told him the reason why they came to see him, Iain's face took on a look of growing hatred. MacLean wanted nothing more than to avenge his father's death and Blain Fraser would know how that revenge would feel.

The two walked back towards the encampment and as soon as they were there, Iain barked out orders for the men to prepare for battle and have the birlinn readied. He had his captain assemble his leaders in front of MacRae and himself.

"In the morrow's dawning, I'll be sailing two birlinn here, wi' forty men on each and fifty of ye's will be sailing wi' me. We'll land on this side of Loch Etive and make our way around the hills. MacDougall and Douglas will ha'e about fifty men each and come up the pass from Oban. We'll drive the lot intae the centre of us and then wipe out the clan. We'll leave a reminder tae those who dare defy me, it was the wrong choice tae make." MacRae's eyes and face spoke more to the men than his words.

James could see the response was what the MacLean's had been longing for. Since Blain Fraser's murder of their leader, Jacob, they had a festering desire to avenge it, but stayed in line with MacRae's order. Now that that order was rescinded, a desire to enact their hatred grew in each man. MacRae looked about at them all and was inwardly happy, knowing he had men who would follow his orders and make an example of the Fraser's.

Within the hour, MacRae was back in Ballachulish, assembling his own men. He briefed them on the plan of attack and once finished, he gave the order to celebrate and whisky was served in large quantities to the men. James knew what his men were like after a good amount of whisky was in them. He had made sure they drank the night before they 

took Ballachulish and the results were what he had hoped for. The savagery committed was what MacRae wanted the people to know about him. Defiance became something that was never thought of, once they had seen what awaited them, if they did.

*****************

"I'll stop there fer now, Stuart. I need tae take a wee break and relieve myself." Argus whispered to Stuart, at his right side.

"Are ye all right, Argus?" Stuart said in concern, seeing the discomfort showing on Argus' face.

"Aye, I may ha'e ate a wee bit tae much shortbread and it's gi'ing me a bit of an upset stomach." Argus admitted sheepishly.

Stuart had to laugh, knowing how much Argus had put away during the telling.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 29



"Ye must ha'e a few pounds of it in ye, Argus." Stuart said in hushed tones. "Better be off and take care of it then."

Argus nodded and quickly scooted off into the hall and the first available washroom. Stuart chuckled, as he watched him go and shook his head. 

"Okay, while Argus is off taking care of something, I'd like tae finish up about the weddings, so Tom and Debra can know what they did back then." Stuart spoke out louder than the guests talking and caught their attention quickly, hearing about the weddings. 

Stuart looked at Tom and Deb and smiled, before he started back in.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 30



"If ye'll remember, Garreth has asked Therese and Grayson has just asked Heather. Grayson and Heather, along wi' Sorley and Randal, are sailing back tae Tioram." Stuart reminded everyone, and got nods and "Ayes," in return.

Tom and Deb both looked anxious to hear what Stuart was going to tell them. Stuart looked at them and smiled, then gave them a wink, before starting in.

********************

The birlinn turned to port and sailed into Loch Moidart, the afternoon sun glittering off the water. Grayson and Heather stood at the prow, holding on to each other tightly, smiling happily. Sorley stood at the stern with Randal and looked at them, then turned to his son.

"I hope ye can find a good woman like that tae marry, Randal. I want tae see ye wi' bairns, tae carry on yer name." 

"I'll do that soon enough, Da. I ha'e my eye on a couple the noo." Randal divulged to his father, winking and smiling at him.

"Do ye noo? And who might they be?" Sorley queried him, a sly look coming across his face.

"Ye know aboot Siobhan Donahue, but ye don't know aboot the other one and I'm no telling ye." Randal said in mocked defiance to divulge it. 

"Are ye talking aboot Rhiannon O'Shea, o'er in Donegal?" Sorley shot back at him.

Randal spun his head around and looked at his father, who was smiling and then chuckling at him, seeing the incredulous look of surprise plastered across Randal's face.

"Yer uncle, Colla told me aboot her. Last time ye went wi' him, he caught ye's two t'gether." Sorley laughed out.

Randal stopped himself from denying it, knowing he was caught and smiled in embarrassment. Sorley threw his arm over his son's shoulder and laughed heartily, as Randal enjoyed being thought of as a lady's man, one who had the gift of looks to make them swoon.

The call of sail went out from the lookout, men immediately arming and taking position. Not an arrow was raised though, as everyone saw Grayson's long, red hair blowing back from his face in the wind, with Heather standing beside him. The birlinn slid up the coral beach and the sail was dropped, while Grayson held onto Heather tightly, as it came to a stop. He jumped down and held his hands to her, to help her down. She bent to him and he took her by the waist, lifting her in a move that seemed effortless, and brought her to the ground gently. Sorley and Randal were still jovial, as they alit beside them. 

The MacDonnell men joined the MacDonald men and headed off to where some food and drink were waiting, It took no time for them all to share a mug of ale and enjoy swapping tales. Grayson, with Heather holding his arm, strode up to the castle and entered the courtyard. He saw Robert attending to some men and hailed him.

"Robert!" he shouted and got his attention.

Robert smiled at seeing Grayson and quickly finished what he had to say to the men. He ran over and shook Grayson's wrist, his eyes going between Grayson and Heather, wondering why they were so happy looking.

"Is Arabella in her chambers, Robert?" Grayson asked, as he greeted him.

"Aye, shall I fetch her doon, Laird Grayson?" Robert offered.

"Aye, I ha'e some news tae tell ye's." he told him, then looked out to everyone. "Gather 'roond me, everyone!" Grayson shouted out, his smile getting bigger and Robert knew something of great happiness awaited them.

Robert ran off into the keep and dashed up the steep, stone staircase. He was almost running along the hall to Arabella's chambers, he was getting so excited. He 

knocked and waited for an answer. He stood waiting and then knocked again.

"Who is it?" was all Arabella asked.

"It's Robert, M'Lady. Laird Grayson is back wi' Lady Heather and Laird Sorley and his son. He asks that ye come tae the courtyard, he has some news tae tell us all." he told her, smiling at the door.

The door opened and Robert could see that Arabella had been crying, her eyes puffy and red. Robert made no mention of what he thought Arabella was doing and told her again what her brother had requested of her. Arabella nodded and closed the door, so he went down the hall to where Garreth and Therese were. He knocked on the door and was quickly greeted by Garreth.

"Robert, come in." Garreth bade him entry.

"Laird Garreth, Lady Therese, Laird Grayson and Lady Heather ha'e returned and asked fer ye's tae join them in the hall. They ha'e some news they wish tae share wi' us." Robert told them, smiling happily.

Therese rose and came to the door and stood with Garreth, holding him around the waist. 

"And we have news for them, as well." Therese added, making Garreth smile broader at the thought of telling his best friend their news.

The three walked down the hall and were just passing Arabella's chambers, when the door opened and she came out. Smiles were quickly placed on mouths, but their eyes held the truth, as to how everyone was feeling. Arabella remained in sadness, after the confidential telling of her feelings for Garreth to Therese, making the silence hang around them like a shroud, as they descended the stairs and entered the hall. Grayson and Heather were laughing and joking with the people that had gathered, sharing a moment of much-needed joviality. Grayson saw Garreth walking with Therese and his heart was instantly filled with relief and happiness at seeing his recovery. He left Heather and walked towards his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders and held Garreth firmly.

"Garreth, my friend. Ye've no idea hoo seeing ye look so well, has brightened my spirits. When I left ye wi' Bella, I was'ne sure if ye would live, or die. But from the looks of ye, yer doing grand. Has it healed well?" 

"Grayson, ye should know by noo, it'll take more than an arra tae do me in. Bella took great care of me and I owe my life tae her. So, what's yer news, then?" Garreth asked him, after the two friends hugged in celebration of seeing one another again.

Grayson pulled back and smiled broadly, before going back and joining Heather. He stood beside her and put his arm around her waist, as she did the same with him. When he saw the hall filled with people, he cleared his throat and shouted out to them.

"Everyone, it is my great pleasure tae let ye's know, Lady Heather MacDonnell has accepted my offer of marriage and we're tae be wed."

At first, a stunned silence loomed and then a cheer went up and rose in volume, till the curtain walls rang from the sound. A look of great happiness came across the faces of everyone, as the news brought a great joy to Tioram and the MacDonald's. Garreth's smile was ear to ear wide, as he walked over and hugged his friend once more. Therese quickly joined him and held her hands out to Heather. They had never met, but the sharing of such joy, was one that introduced them.

"I wish you and Laird Grayson every happiness, Lady Heather. I can see you are both very much in love."

"Thank you, M'Lady. We are in love, I've held a place in my heart fer Grayson since I was a young girl and I can'ne begin tae say hoo happy I am, tae be his betrothed. Please forgive me, we hav'ne met. I am Lady Heather MacDonnell of Donan and ye must be Lady Therese, that my love has told me aboot."

"I am, Lady Heather. I am Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. It is a great pleasure to meet you." Therese told her, bowing her head slightly to her.

Garreth and Grayson broke apart and Garreth shouted out to everyone, calming their jubilation. Arabella hugged her brother and smiled affectionately at him, then hugged Heather afterwards, welcoming her to the clan and congratulating her. They held hands and shared a moment of bonding, when Garreth spoke out loudly to everyone. 

"Laird Grayson, has gi'en us all great news and my heart could'ne be happier fer the both of them. I hope his heart will be filled wi' as much happiness, when I tell him my news." he shouted out and held his hand out for Therese to take. Therese came to him and Garreth held her to him closely. "Grayson, everyone, it's my honour and privilege tae tell ye's that Lady Therese and I are tae be married as well."

Grayson's face went to a frozen look of complete happiness. He looked at the couple before him and his only thought was to hug them together. Therese was over-whelmed by his strength, but hugged him back as best she could. Grayson released them and Arabella came and congratulated the couple once again.

Arabella stood with a mixture of emotions written across her face. Her heart was filled beyond what it could hold and deal with. Tears streaked down her cheeks, as she tried to look happy for the couple in their moment of happiness. Therese saw her friend struggling and knew her heart was wanting to scream out the turmoil it was in. She took hold of Arabella's hands, clutching onto a handkerchief tightly and felt her pain. Heather turned and saw the strain on Arabella's face and became worried for her as well.

Grayson and the others were finishing their congratulations to Garreth, when he noticed Heather had left his side. He saw that they were comforting Arabella and started to ask what the matter was. Garreth stopped him, before he could say anything and moved in close to whisper.

"Let her be Grayson. It's a matter of the heart that ye don't know aboot and it's best ye did'ne. Let them see tae Bella and we'll go ha'e a drink of cheer tae celebrate."

Grayson looked at Arabella with worry for her, but heeded Garreth's request. They headed into the keep, with Garreth inviting the men in for a drink to celebrate. Grayson looked back at Arabella, Therese and Heather, causing Garreth do the same. They stopped and looked at the three women, as they looked at them. A moment passed between them all, before they silently bade him to leave, then Grayson hesitantly turned and the two men went over to the table being prepared for them.

Robert had a keg of whisky brought in and tapped a wooden spigot into the opening, making it ready to pour. Two silver cups adorned with the MacDonald crest, sat ready for the two Lairds, while twelve plain, silver cups were lined up for the men. Grayson and Garreth entered the hall to rousing cheers and soon the feelings of discomfort were given way to joyous celebration once again. 

They took the two clan cups, while Sorley and Randal took the first two plain ones. All of Sorley's men took a cup after them, then Robert, Gleason and Gordon MacDonald took the last cups, everyone filling them to their liking. In a salute, every cup was touched by all and wishes of a warm night under the robes with their brides, was wished heartily by all.

Outside, Therese and Heather stayed with Arabella and had her join them for a walk. Therese knew what ate at Arabella's heart, but Heather was completely unaware of what had transpired just days before. 

"I'll be alright, Therese and Heather, I will. It was just everything that's happened, took me o'er and I was at a loss tae control myself. I'm alright noo." she told them, doing her best to get herself together again. 

"My dear sister, it pains my heart to know you have so much sadness to carry. How can I help take it away?" Therese pled with her, knowing the root cause of it, was her love for Garreth.

"Arabella, what is causing yer sadness? I am tae be yer new sister and I want tae bring a joy tae yer heart as well." Heather asked, right after Therese.

Arabella stopped and looked at both of them, concern written on both their faces and knew she had to say something to Heather to explain. She started walking again and explained everything about Braedon Stewart to Heather, hoping it would suffice as an adequate explanation. By the time she finished telling them of how she watched him sail away while looking at her, the two women were becoming equally as heart-broken as Arabella.

"Gi'e him time, Arabella, ye ne'er know what time will do fer his heart. He may just need the time tae collect it and sort oot his feelings fer ye." Heather said in comfort.

"I wish that were true, Heather. I'd like my heart tae believe that. It may still come tae pass, but hearing that yer both getting married, put my heart tae sadness, knowing that is what I was hoping fer wi' Braedon. I'm awfy sorry fer spoiling yer moment, both of ye's" Arabella confessed to them.

Therese held onto Arabella a little tighter, not wanting to say anything to ruin the cover story to Heather. The three continued walking past Cul Dorlinn and along the shoreline of River Shiel, the mid-day sun shining down on them and sparkling on the rippled waters. Arabella knew she had to get over her love for Garreth and accept that he loved Therese. She also knew she had to keep her strength and wits for the battle to come and not let it interfere with her duties as a Chieftess. Hundreds of lives were held with her command and she had to lead them with strength and surety, that she didn't make a mistake in her decision.

Arabella saw where they had walked to and stood looking at the same spot she had first seen Garreth naked. Before she let her mind go there, she quickly stopped and turned to go back. Heather and Therese had no idea what made her suddenly turn around, but followed her and waited for her to tell them what had made her do that. Arabella falsely smiled and said she was in need of relieving herself, hoping that was enough to satisfy her friends' curiosities.

By the time they had made their way back and walked over the causeway to dry land, Arabella was calmer and able to hide her feelings. They went around to the gate and into the courtyard. The sounds of merriment and laughter were echoing out of the keep, as they went in and entered the hall. As soon as they were spotted, a rousing cheer went up for them. Arabella forced a smile onto her face and stayed where she was. The other two were taken by the display and went towards their mates, both being held tightly to them. More whisky was poured and celebrations and cheer became the order of the day. The two women looked at Arabella, hoping she would return after relieving herself and joining them in the festivities. 

Arabella quietly turned and went back to the courtyard, not feeling up to the revelry happening inside. She watched with half-interest, as a dog barked wildly, chasing a cat around in front of her. She saw the dog catching up to the cat and then it suddenly stopped, as if commanded to. She hadn't heard anything, but soon saw an old man coming out of the stables, looking at the dog. The man came to the now-sitting dog and patted it on its head, speaking softly to it. In a moment, the cat came over and sat next to the old man, rubbing up against his leg. Arabella stopped, astounded by what she saw and then turned away, shaking her head and smiling to herself.

As the festive mood went on, Heather turned to Therese and asked when they were 

getting married. Therese looked at Garreth for a moment and realized no day had been set or how it would be done.

"We have not decided on a day yet, but I fear the war is near and there is no time to prepare for a proper wedding. Have you and Grayson decided on a day?"

Heather shook her head, but thought about the situation they were both in. She knew a proper wedding was needed for the bonding of two clans like her's and Grayson's, but the impending battle did present a problem of deciding when. She pondered for a moment more and told Therese of a solution.

"Do they practice Hand-fasting in France, Therese?"

Therese thought for a moment. "I have heard of it, but I do not know how it is done."

"A contract is made between the tae families and a ceremony is performed by a chief of the clan or a Holy man. It lasts fer one year and a day and allows the couple tae live together fer that time, then decide if they want tae marry or part their ways. It would allow us the privilege of being wi' oor men, before they go tae battle."

Heather's explanation took hold in Therese's mind, as she thought of what her heart wanted to enjoy and the threat of battle taking it away. A question arose as she thought.

"I am the head of my family and Garreth is the head of his, how can this befit us then?" 

"It could be done by my mother, the same time she performs the ceremony fer Grayson and I. We can have a double ceremony."

Therese thought about it and looked at Garreth, talking merrily with Grayson and Sorley and a couple of other men. She wanted nothing more than to be with him, knowing in her heart they could never plan a wedding and have her guests, as well as his, assembled in time. The idea had great appeal to her, but the thought that she had no relatives left to invite, other than her beloved staff, made her realize these people were her new family. She would now have Arabella and Heather akin as sisters and Grayson like a brother, as well as hundreds of their kin. She knew so little of Garreth's siblings and started to realize how great her new family might actually be.

"I would like for that to happen. How soon could it be arranged?"

Heather saw the excited look in Therese's eyes and knew she wanted what she did, to share the joys of love with their men. She held equal excitement in her own eyes, growing more as they talked about the idea.

"It could be done as soon as we want. I think in a week hence, we could ha'e a ceremony. Where should we ha'e it, Therese?"

"I do not know, Heather. I must talk with Garreth and ask for his blessing to do this and hope he agrees to it."

"I agree. Let's take oor men aside and talk wi' them aboot it. I think they've had enough of the drink fer noo, from the looks of it." Heather said, as she looked at the cups of whisky being poured and the number of cups they had quaffed down already.

The two women went and stood in front of their respective others and took hold of their hands. The glazed look of intoxication was full on their faces, but they still had enough of their wits about them. Heather smiled as she looked into Grayson's paling, blue eyes, knowing he deserved this time to enjoy as much as wanted. 

"Come and walk wi' Therese and I, Grayson. We need tae talk t'gether." Heather told him, looking into his eyes and asking with hers as well.

Grayson looked at her and then to Therese and Garreth, who was being asked the same thing. Garreth looked at Grayson and he looked back at him. They smiled at each other, a silly, drunken look on each of their faces and in joint consent, nodded to the women in reply.

Aye, lesh go then." he told Heather softly, then louder, "Ev'ryone, Garreth and I mus' part wi' ye's fer a bit. Enjoy the drink and we'll soon return." his speech becoming slurred from the drink.

The cheers and wishes for a quick return were shouted out, as Grayson took Heather's hand to his arm and Garreth did the same with Therese and the couples left the hall of the keep. They walked into the courtyard and then through the gateway, turning right and walking amongst the fresh sprigs of heather and wildflowers that grew freely on the eilean. They walked over the sandy causeway and soon the talk of Hand-fasting began in earnest.

They had barely made it to Cul Dorlinn, when Garreth announced it should be done at Dunvegan. He reasoned it was safer to do it there, as there was no threat of battle happening. Birlinns could bring everyone and there were more than enough rooms to house the guests for the celebration. Grayson agreed immediately, his own oath to protect Heather from harm guiding his decision. The women were happy, no matter where it took place and they accepted the location and the reasoning immediately.

"We'll ha'e tae send a few birlinns tae Donan and collect everyone from there. Maybe we should go Grayson and bring my mother and the others, while ye and Therese make fer Dunvegan ahead of us." Heather suggested to Grayson.

"I have nothing that I can wear, only this. I would be ashamed to wear it for such an occasion. I must find a new dress to wear. Since my forced departure from France, I have only had this green riding dress to wear. I do not have the time to sail back to France and return with a proper dress." 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 30



Heather could see the despair in Therese's eyes, knowing how important it was for her to look her finest.

"We'll ha'e new dresses made fer us, Therese. I need a new one as well. They can be made in time fer the ceremony, so don't fret aboot it. We will look oor best fer these men and the day we join wi' them."

Therese heard the offer and her disposition changed immediately to one of absolute joy again. In her heart, this was the most important day in her life and wanted only the best for them. With the basics for the ceremony figured out, the two couples made their way back along the winding path by the shore and back over the causeway. Heather and Therese stopped to pick some of the fresh sprigs of heather and some of the wildflowers, making nose-gays for themselves. The two women were radiantly glowing with happiness, while the two men were glowing with the radiance of the whisky, but equally as happy.

Once inside the hall of the keep, the men parted from the women and re-joined the other men, well on their way to complete intoxication. Arabella had come back and was standing at the window, looking out at the courtyard, as the two women came to her.

"Ha'e ye e'er seen animals take tae someone like that?" she told them, as they stood on either side of her.

The two looked at where Arabella was looking and saw the old man again, sitting on a stool with several dogs and cats around him. They were all sitting and not at each other's throats, as they normally would be. The women stood and watched, as he stroked and petted each one and talked to them. One of the cats jumped up on his lap and curled up happily, as one of the dogs laid his head on his leg. They continued to watch, as more dogs and cats found their way to him. Soon a dozen animals were gathered around him, all seeking his attention.

He smiled a toothless grin, as his frail, bony hands made their way to each of them, petting each one. Soon, another cat had made its way up to lie over his shoulders, while dogs lay at his feet and others raised their paws and placed them on his legs.

The women stood in wonderment of the display, never seeing such an affection between animals and a person before. Arabella turned to Grayson and caught his attention, beckoning him to come over.

"Grayson, who's that old man sitting there?" she asked, her memory unsure.

"Och, that's old Fletcher, he's been aroond since Da was a wee boy. He comes tae the castle every noo and then. When Glenn and I had him hold oor horses, we came back and they would'ne leave him. He just smiled and nodded at them and they came wi' no problem. He has a way wi' the beasts like no other. I swear they ran faster than e'er afterwards. Ye can ask Glenn tae, he'll tell ye."

They stood and watched for a while longer, before they turned away and joined the festivities again. Food was brought in and everyone ate heartily in celebration. After they ate, the skirl of pipes was heard in the courtyard and shortly after, Gregor marched in playing a lively air. Cheers went up for him and in no time, a beat was carried by the men, pounding their hands on the table and feet stomped on the stone floor.

Grayson was taken by the tune and took Heather's hand, leading her to an open area and started dancing. Garreth saw them and led Therese into dancing a reel with her as well. In no time, every woman was asked to dance by the men and laughter rang out with the pipes. Sorley asked Arabella to dance and at first, she was hesitant, but he was persistent and finally had her up and spinning about the room. 

Therese and Heather were happy to see a smile and hear laughter from Arabella, knowing how little there was for her to be happy about. She begged off from another dance and sat out the celebration on the sidelines, while Sorley went back to drinking with his men. Then a little while later, without a word, Arabella silently drifted out of the room, a faint smile on her face and a painful longing in her heart. She knew she had to let her love of Garreth remain as a dream, a far-flung thought that she could never allow to surface again. 

Heather and Therese finally sat and talked of plans for the ceremony, while Garreth and Grayson began talks of battle plans with Sorley and Randal. The two were fast becoming good friends, enjoying themselves with shared thoughts and hopes for their lives to come. It was Heather's suggestion to sail back to Donan and let Therese pick out some of her clothes to wear, both being so close in size, that had Therese smiling more. 

"When we are settled, I'll ha'e us fitted fer oor dresses and ha'e them start making them. I ha'e many dresses that ye can wear noo, until ye can ha'e yer own sent from France."

"Oh, merci, Heather. I am so ashamed to be still wearing the same dress after all this time. I have felt terrible that I am looking so poorly to everyone." her lips smiling with happiness, while her eyes showed the shame she felt.

"Och, Therese, don't feel that way. It's no yer fault that ye are like this. We'll sail back soon and ha'e ye dressed and looking like the beautiful Lady ye are again."

"I am so grateful to you, Heather. It makes my heart fill with such joy to know I have met such a wonderful person, such as yourself. I feel I have been blessed by God, for Garreth's love, being re-united with my dearest friend and sister, Arabella and now I am once again blessed to be given a friend like you." she told Heather, as she held her hands.

The two ladies smiled at each other, enjoying the bond of friendship forming between them. Long into the night, they talked of what their dresses could look like, what Dunvegan would be like to have the ceremony in and how the evening might turn out, once they consummated the contract of Hand-fasting 

Garreth and Grayson, along with all the men, sat and stood around the large, oak table, finishing off the last of the keg of whisky, heartily singing songs of love in the hills and blissful nights in the chamber. Another keg was brought out, along with more food to fill the appetites, as Gregor blew his pipes, thoughts of battle and castles being taken, were left out of their thoughts.

***************************

"So, what do ye's think of Hand-fasting, Tom and Debra?" Stuart asked them, wondering if they liked the idea.

"I love it, Uncle Stuart, but does it mean Deb and I are married, or, how does it work?" Tom asked him, not sure if it was legally binding.

"Tell us what the ceremony was like, Uncle Stuart. I want to know what they did and what Lady Anne said." Deb excited more about the romance of the ceremony.

"They had the Hand-fasting tae join them, so they could be t'gether, but only Garreth and Therese had a wedding later, after the battle. Grayson and Heather did'ne get married after, they were joined by that ceremony a year and a day later. It was'ne up until nineteen thirty-nine, that Hand-fasting was'ne recognized anymore. So it would be more of a clan joining, until we had the wedding later on, once ye ha'e some time tae plan it." Stuart explained. "But, if ye's want tae do it like Garreth and Therese, this is how they did it. They wed back in France, but I'll save that fer later on. Don't want tae get ahead of things, but now ye's know what happened. Do ye's want tae do it like that? Come back next year, a day after ye's do it and ha'e the wedding in the gardens, weather permitting?" he finished with and looked at them for an answer.

Tom and Deb looked at each other, searching each other's eyes for an acceptance and found it. Smiling and turning they looked at Stuart together and told him yes, they would. Everyone clapped, applauding the choice.

"When can we do the ceremony, Uncle Stuart?" Tom asked.

"Tomorrow's supposed tae be a lovely day, so why not ha'e it the gardens in the late morning, say aroond eleven." he replied.

Tom looked at Deb and both were thrilled they could do it so soon. "Perfect, Uncle Stuart. This is so great of you to do this for us. I can't thank you enough, for making this such a memorable time for us. I feel like I'm in a fairy tale romance right now. I love Tom so much and I'm feeling so close to all of you, like I'm part of the family already." Deb spoke to him, then turned to Tom, gently placing her palm against his cheek. "You were so right, when you said I had nothing to worry about. You and your family and all the clan, have made me feel so welcome. I love you, Tom MacLeod." to which she moved closer and placed her lips on his, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him very lovingly.

Everyone cheered and clapped with great enthusiasm, seeing Tom and Deb display their love, in as much a way as Garreth and Therese might have done. They broke apart, their eyes glistening with the brightness of their love shining in them and thanked everyone.

Stuart gave the couple a moment to enjoy the congratulations, he himself thinking of what to use for tying their hands together. It dawned on him what was still tucked away in his safe, inside a royal, blue velvet bracelet box. He leaned over to Tavish and told him he would be right back, before rising and heading back to his office. He swung the painting of his ancestor, Rory Mor, open and spun the dial. He took the box out and carefully opened it. There inside was the strip of silk ribbon, the red dye fading, that Garreth and Therese had used. He closed the box and closed the safe once more, putting the picture back in place.

As he walked down the hall, a relieved looking Argus exited the washroom and looked at Stuart, shaking his head and smiling. "Just a wee bit too much, I think, Stuart."

"Are ye sure, Argus? I can ha'e another batch made just in case." Stuart teased him, knowing shortbread was the last thing he wanted now.

"Och, Stuart, don't be saying that, I still feel bad enough the noo." Argus exclaimed, still rubbing his stomach.

The two walked back into the hall, Stuart quietly chuckling and took their seats. Stuart motioned for Tom and Deb to come over to him. They came around and stood beside him, as he held the case in his hands.

"I ha'e a wee surprise fer ye tae see." he said smiling and opened the box.

At first Tom and Deb didn't understand what the ribbon was and why Stuart was showing it to them. 

"This is the ribbon that bound their hands t'gether. It was a much nicer red back then, but as ye can see, it's surely faded tae almost a pink." he told them as he gently lifted an end up and let them touch it.

"It's silk, even I know this must have cost a fortune back then. Just for this small strip." Deb exclaimed when she felt it. "Where can we find some red, silk ribbon by tomorrow morning, for the ceremony, Uncle Stuart?" 

"That's a good question, Debra. I don'ne know where we can get some." Stuart understood the growing concern on Deb's face and turned to the guests. "We ha'e a wee problem I hope ye can help Tom and Deb oot wi'. We need tae find a strip of red silk ribbon tae bind their hands wi'. Does anyone ha'e any, or know where we can find some?" 

Gordon heard the request and in a flash, something came to him and he hurried off. He went into his quarters at the end of the hall and went for his large Bible. He opened it to the chapter he was on and looked at the rich, red ribbons of silk that bookmarked his page. Thinking of only the need for the ceremony, he closed it again, picking up a small pair of scissors as well, tucking them in his pocket. He closed his door and hurried back to the hall, coming to Stuart, Tom and Debra.

"Laird Stuart, I believe I ha'e something that might serve the purpose." to which Gordon opened the Bible again and showed the silk ribbons to them.

Deb gently picked up the ends of the two strips and felt them, a smile growing on her face. In as quick a turn, she looked at Gordon with despair.

"Oh Gordon, we couldn't ask you to cut these off. I mean, they're perfect, but it would be sacrilege to do that." her face showing the frustration of having the perfect thing in her hand, but also the cost it would be to have it.

"It's my contribution tae yer happy day. I'd be honoured if ye'd accept it, Master Tom and Miss Debra. Their only tae mark a page, so I'm sure it'll no be a slight tae the Great Book." Gordon told them, sincerity firmly set on his face and in his eyes, to go with the loving tone in his voice.

"We thank you from the bottom of our hearts, Gordon. Your thoughtful generosity will definitely make tomorrow an incredible day." Tom told him, as he held his hand in thanks.

Debra took the Bible and laid it on the table, then turned and affectionately hugged Gordon, bringing a look of surprise to his normal staid nature. He softened to a welcoming smile, as he felt the thanks coming from her and gently patted her back. Debra released him and Gordon produced the scissors from his pocket. He opened the Bible and took the long ribbons in his left hand, adjusting the scissors on his right fingers. In two small cuts, he parted the lengths from the spine of the book and carefully handed them to Debra.

The guests all broke into cheers and applause for Gordon's loving act, to which he graciously bowed several times back to them. The hall became abuzz with the talk of tomorrow's bonding, the tale of the clans, slowly fading from interest. Stuart and Tavish smiled broadly, having a chance to think about performing a Hand-fasting ceremony for 

the first time.

Argus quietly belched, still feeling the after-effects of eating so many rich treats. In his mind, he was thinking of what James MacRae had done in revenge and a statement of his authority. He was also waiting for the right time to tell Stuart of his news. The moment was getting close where he had to set some facts straight. Yes, the evening was going to be interesting indeed.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 31



Argus was getting anxious to get back into the story telling, seeing so much attention being given over to the Hand-fasting. He nudged Stuart to get his attention from Tavish.

"Stuart, can we get back tae the telling, noo. We'll be here all night talking of this ceremony and I ha'e something tae add, before we go any further and get things fouled up. Ye did'ne say anything about Fletcher turning intae the Glaistig."

"Aye, yer right, Argus, I did'ne. I should ha'e added that in before I stopped. I was just a wee bit excited tae show them the ribbon." Stuart apologized, smiling in the happiness of the moment.

"Ye've almost past by what MacRae had done too. If ye don't talk of it the noo, it'll no make sense tae why Braedon came tae Tioram later. Remember?" Argus reminded him, letting him know that things had to be told in order.

Stuart thought of what MacRae had done and didn't relish the idea of having to bring it up. He could see Argus was gnashing at the bit to bring it to its gory best and was fraught over inflicting the guests to another of Argus' resplendent tellings. In as much as he knew it had to be told, he knew enough to forewarn any who might get offended by the brutality of the punishments.

Stuart whispered his reservations of what had to be told to Argus, who nodded in approval that he'd try to curtail the gore to a minimum. Argus looked at the guests and then back to Stuart and smiled. Stuart wasn't sure what the smile was for, but he hoped he would heed him.

Stuart arose and tapped his glass, bringing focus to him once again. Many were still anxious to help be a part of the ceremony tomorrow, offering anything they could think of to ensure a memorable time. He apologized for breaking up the enthusiasm and hesitantly introduced them back to Argus.

"Now, Argus has reminded me that we've strayed a bit of course and almost missed a few events. Of course ye's know that it had tae be of a nasty nature fer Argus tae want ye's tae know, so if any of ye's feel disinclined tae hear of some vileness like ye've ne'er heard, please enjoy a moment away from the hall, while Argus says his peace. I promise once it's o'er, we'll ha'e some grand things tae tell. Argus, gi'e those people a moment tae leave and the rest are yer's tae ...entertain." Stuart said to him and sat down, knowing Argus wouldn't disappoint the brave souls who stayed with some history, best left undisturbed in his opinion.

Argus drank some water and made a face at it, wishing it was more of Stuart's liquid gold instead, but thought of his stomach and knew better of it. He saw that only a few women had left and most had stayed. He smiled at the thought, that a good bit of blood and guts and boogeyman talk was still interesting to them. 

"Okay, well let's clear up a bit about Fletcher first and then I'll tell ye's what murderous heathen's the MacRae's were and James especially. Then ye's will understand why Braedon pops back in later, when Tavish tells ye's the soppy parts." Argus stopped and turned to Tavish, "Are ye telling about that, or is Stuart?"

"What? When Arabella and Braedon get back t'gether? I can tell that part. I think Stuart's going tae tell about the ceremony though and all of what happened here at Dunvegan." Tavish told him.

"Aye, I'll tell of the Hand-fasting and all that happened after." Stuart told him, confirming who was telling what.

"Alright then, let's spend a moment tae know Fletcher a wee bit better and then I'll tell ye's about MacRae. Now, Fletcher was very old. He was around the castle and surounding area fer ages. His parents had died because of a battle, back in fifteen thirty-nine. The Earl of Huntly, before Douglas, wanted lands brought under control and of course your lot were among the worst offenders." Argus told them, looking at Stuart and Tavish, bringing a few snickers.

"Before anything could be done by anyone, Fletcher's parents were burned tae death in their cottage. Fletcher was away, fighting alongside Grayson and Arabella's father, John, and was put intae prison wi' him. When they finally got out two years later, after King James the fifth died, they came back and John of course took back Tioram and was ready tae wed his first wife Amy. Fletcher came back tae nothing, really. His parents were buried, but no one could really remember where. The land was there, but he had no crops and no place tae live." Argus could see the effect he was having on the people, playing on the sadness

"John had a shelter built fer him and he lived in that fer a long time. At some point, no one's sure when, he developed a way wi' animals. Did'ne matter what kind it was, they just knew enough tae trust him. Some thought he was off his head, and blamed it on his losses, but others knew him and knew he was still keen and alert. No matter where he went though, he was ne'er alone. He always had some wee creature tae keep him company. Anyway, it's enough tae say he was well loved by animals and no really bothered in any way by people." Argus saw the sympathetic looks and knew it was time to pluck some heart strings.

*****************************

It was the next morning, a grey, cloudy, mist-filled morning that surrounded the castle like a shroud. Few were up and tending to the fires and livestock, the merriment of song and dance, along with far too much whisky, keeping many in bed. It was the low moans of the cats and dogs, as well as the chuffing of horses, that warranted the most attention. Donald entered the stable and was immediately warned away by several dogs. He tried to see why they guarded the closest stall and before the dogs chased him right out, he caught sight of a pair of feet.

He entered the keep and talked with the kitchen staff about his narrow escape and also the body in the stall. Donald was just looking for someone to call for Arabella, when she appeared on the stairway. He went to her quickly, his worry clear on his face.

Lady Arabella, there's something no right in the stables. The animals are acting strange and there's a body in the first stall that they won't let me come near. I don't know what tae do?" 

Arabella left the hall and went outside to the stables. As soon as she entered, several dogs rose up and barked at her. She stood and showed no fear to them, waiting until they calmed, but watched her carefully, as she started to approach. She slowly made her way to the front of the stall and looked in, seeing Fletcher lying there, Once she was close enough, she called his name and no response came. Her fears were realized when she reached out to shake him and he didn't stir. His face was in a state of complete calm, as though he went to sleep in a happy mood. 

It took her by surprise and she soon realized he had passed away and the animals were protecting him. None of the cats and dogs left his side, as she squatted down and softly touched the wrinkled, leathery skin of his face with her hand. A cat circled her legs, rubbing up against her and several dogs sniffed at her, making sure her intentions were friendly towards Fletcher.

Slowly she rose and went back into the keep and found a groggy Grayson, coming into the hall and looking for some food. She caught up to him, speaking to him in hushed tones.. 

"Grayson, Fletcher has passed. He's out in the stables and the animals are protecting him."

Grayson tried at first to understand what she was saying, but when she turned towards the window, he remembered him from earlier.

"What do ye mean he's passed, Bella?" the whisky clouding his thoughts.

"He's gone. Dead. He's lying on the ground and I fear the animals will try tae attack anyone who tries tae move him."

Grayson went to the window and looked at the stables. Sure enough, the cats and dogs were guarding the entrance to the stables. Grayson turned back around, shaking his head in astonishment. Heather saw his face as she came in and took a note of concern.

"What is it, Grayson? Why the sad face?"

"The old man outside has passed away. The one ye's were looking at earlier, wi' the animals." the vision sobering him from the celebratory mood just hours ago.

"Och no, the poor soul." she said and went to the window to look.

Soon, more people were looking out and wondering at first what was going on. As they turned away from the window, every face was saddened by the sight. Grayson went out and stood looking at the scene, trying to decide what to do. He slowly walked towards Fletcher and the dogs growled lowly, as he approached. They watched him carefully, sensing his intentions, as Grayson bent and gently gathered Fletcher in his arms, cradling him. The animals stayed close to his feet, making it hard for him to walk, without stepping on one of them. 

He came into the keep and carefully laid the body on the table beside the door. A couple of cats jumped up and circled around, before lying over his chest. Grayson looked at Arabella, his eyes hoping she would make preparations for him. She knew what her brother was asking and gathered a few women to her, sending them get water and cloths, fresh clothes and wrapping cloth. The teary-eyed women left and sought out what was needed, as the men and women stood back from the table, not wanting to upset the animals.

The women came back and went to the table to take care of Fletcher, but the growls from the dogs, kept them from getting close to him. Grayson was at a loss for what to do, understanding the need to have Fletcher prepared for burial and the love the animals held for him, to protect his body. He slowly went to Fletcher again and the dogs at first made a line of defence, but allowed him to approach, sniffing at him with every step he took. Grayson picked up the body and looked to Arabella.

"I'll carry him tae the kitchen, Keep the animals out here as best ye can and close the door behind me."

Two women rushed to clear the preparation table in the kitchen, while the newly arrived, Garreth, Sorley, Randal and Robert made a circle around Grayson, keeping the animals back. Slowly they walked to the kitchen, until Grayson was making his way through the doorway. The men stopped, holding the animals back from getting in with Fletcher and the door closed behind him. The men tried herding the animals back outside, but Randal tried too aggressively and one of the dogs latched on to his leg. Grayson laid the body down and slipped back out the door, only to see Randal shaking his leg to get the dog off him.

Randal drew his sword in defence, but Grayson quickly stopped him. Grayson spoke softly to it, commanding it to let go. The dog's eyes focused on Grayson's and saw the calm state in them. Randal was relieved to feel the pressure of sharp teeth ease and the dog letting go. Soon the animals were all out side and the door closed behind them. Howls and whines from the dogs started, as well as sorrowful moans and wailing from the cats. The look on everyone's face told the story, that it affected everyone the same. 

The moment sobered the men from their intoxicated revelry, as the women went about washing and re-dressing Fletcher's body. A sombre pall was cast over the excitement of earlier, as memories of Fletcher were shared by those that knew of him. Not much was said, as he had lived a lonely existence and the animals had become his only true friends. Arabella gave orders for two men to start digging a grave for him, at the burial site at Cul Dorlinn. She went to Grayson and asked him to preside over his burial and say a few words about him. Grayson looked at the strain on his sister's face and could see she was struggling with her own conflicted emotions. He hugged her to him and found she accepted it with a great sense of need. He wished he knew what was ailing her heart and troubling her so deeply, but knew he held no answers for her.

A litter was brought out and Fletcher's prepared body was laid upon it. Grayson looked to Robert and Gordon to take an end each, while he led the small procession of clan and guests out of the castle and across the causeway to the site. Gregor played a sorrowful dirge that brought emotions to the point of sadness, that tears were present on the faces of everyone there. The animals were all gathered around the stretcher, as they made it to the site and laid his body on the ground.

Grayson stood with Heather at his side, as he did his best to find things to say about Fletcher. It saddened his heart to think this man had lived amongst them for so long in his life and so little could be said. He prayed for his soul and a wish for him to be at God's side, before he motioned for the men to lower the body into the grave. It was as though the animals knew what was occurring and wailed and moaned their own sorrow, as the first shovels of dirt were tossed on the body.

The small procession slowly made its way back to the castle, the pipes being silenced and now only the sounds of shovels in the dirt, breaking the sound of the animal's sorrowful wailing. The grave was surrounded by cats and dogs, once the men walked away, a sadness filling them to hear their sounds of loss.

Only the animals were aware, that the spirit of the man had joined them once more and they were in its presence. A troop of four-legged and winged companions joined in a different harmony, as they sang in happiness, sensing Fletcher's energy among them. Soon the dismal grey turned a shade brighter, as the sun warmed the air and broke through the clouds. A tiny beam of sunlight found its way onto the marker-less grave and cast a brightness over it, the silent majesty of the moment shared with those who truly loved the frail, old man and they rejoiced in their praise of it.

*****************************

"Okay, now ye's ha'e a better understanding of Fletcher. Now, as history has it, Fletcher is the one who became the Glaistig. There's many stories written about it, how it calmed animals and helped horses tae be steady in battle. One of the first times I heard about the Glaistig, is in the battle tae come. So now ye's know who and what the Glaistig is, when it's talked about later on and who it is that's doing it."

Argus took a long drink of water, as he looked at the faces of the guests. He knew what he was going to get into now, was as low as human depravity went, but the truth and the whole truth, should be told, if it was to be told at all.

"Alright, as Stuart said earlier, this is going tae be more than a wee bit gruesome. I know it can upset some of ye's, e'en though ye think ye can handle it. If it's tae be told, it's tae be told as it happened. Do ye's know about the massacre at the Falls of Lora?" a show of shrugs and shakes of the heads told Argus no, "It's no something that's told very often. All I'll tell ye the now is, it no something that should e'er of happened."

******************************

The lifeless, grey sky offered nothing more than the bleak light being cast. To James MacRae, it was the perfect day. In his mind and his mind only, lay the results of what today would bring. The two birlinns, loaded with men and arms, eased out into calm waters, the windless air offering no assistance to them. The oars plied through the water, the bow splitting it into curling froths, as they left Ballachulish and made their way out of Loch Leven towards Loch Linnhe. The dark waters held little contrast to the slate sky, as the two birlinns made their way through the narrows. MacRae turned to look at the remains of the birlinn, now since stripped of anything of use. The wood had been scavenged and barely the skeletal bones were left. Soon those too would light the fires that warmed and fed the living.

The MacLean's were sailing from Loch a Choire as planned, coming straight across Loch Linnhe and headed down the channel between Lismore and the mainland. Close behind, MacRae's birlinns passed Shuna Island, quietly being noted by the lookout on top of Castle Stalker. He watched them join up and sail another seven miles, before they turned to port and disappeared around the point at Tralee Bay. He made a mental note to inform his Lairdship of the movement, when he was relieved.

Marching up from the shores of Oban, through the mountain pass, Malcolm MacDougall and MacKenzie of the Douglas', along with his lieutenants, Roland and Tormod, led the combined forces of over a thirty men on horses and a hundred on foot towards the rising sun. Every face was set with a purpose, a purpose of enacting revenge. Whatever they did that morning, it was in the name of vengeance for what was done to their clan members by the Fraser's and whatever James MacRae deemed as just punishment. The low clouds clung to the tops of the ridges, acting like a canopy above them. Drizzle fell in tiny droplets that clung to the men, coating skin and cloth in glittering sheets of them. The five mile march was made in silence, but the dampness added misery to their thoughts, filling them with more reason to despise the Fraser's.

The birlinns slid up onto the coast, grinding their keels into the gravelled shore. Men jumped down and the three birlinns were pulled further up, the ebbing tide eventually stranding it. MacRae amassed his men and stood with Iain MacLean in front of them. He scouted the terrain for signs of spotters and gave MacLean his instructions to proceed.

"Take yer men and go o'er the hills that way." James told him, pointing with his sword. "Come around and MacDougall and MacKenzie should be there wi' their men. The horses will go up tae the shore and we'll drive them all tae the flats in between us. I want every man, woman and child rounded up, no a soul left out. Once we ha'e them all t'gether, we'll find out what happened tae Douglas' lads that night. This time, they'll tell us the truth."

Iain MacLean headed off to fan out his men along the ridge, creating one line of the net. MacRae took his men and fanned them out, so they covered the coast and the ridge of high hills in front of them. MacRae had his men lay in wait, until all the men were in place, before they closed in. He stood on the ridge and looked south to the pass, where the Douglas' and MacDougall's would come through. In his mind, he hoped that both would have their men prepared and ready to do what must be done. He also hoped that nothing led them to battle one another and kill each other en route. He was starting to feel that maybe Fate was setting the table against him. All his leaders dead and an army of men with little or no direction, wasn't adding up to the plan he saw in his mind.

Malcolm and MacKenzie halted their men, as they came to the end of the pass and the flat, green lands began. The crackle of branches had them taking guard, until they saw it was MacLean clansmen coming through to them. 

"Ye've made it, good. I'm tae gi'e ye's yer orders on how we're tae proceed. All yer men on horses are tae ride up tae the coast and fan back. All the men on foot are tae bring up the centre. MacRae is coming in from o'er there." the MacLean clansman told them, pointing out the areas where they were to go and how they would move in.

The foot soldiers followed the MacLean's and made a solid line of men all the way back to MacRae. Word was passed down the line that all the men had arrived and awaiting the signal to march. The men on horses made their way up along the edge of the mountains, spacing themselves out. MacKenzie sat with Roland and Tormod, looking across the broad, flat land at the settlement, filled with the Fraser clan going about their daily lives. He looked across to the ridge on the far side, looking for MacRae. He spotted him high on the ridge, looking from him, all along the line of men, until they were covered by trees.

He raised his sword in the air and circled it above his head. Slowly, one line of men started moving towards the other, closing the space between them. The Fraser's were alerted immediately and took up arms. They concentrated themselves around the perimeter of their encampment, arrows and spears at the ready. Young children were herded into huts, while the older ones stayed, ready to help re-arm the men with arrows and spears, or swords and knives.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 31



Slowly the men closed in around the Fraser clan, concentrating them into a smaller area. No shots were fired or lives taken, as the combined troops pushed them closer together. When the force had surrounded the clan, there were over three hundred men, armed and threatening the one hundred plus Fraser's. Men who just recently were sharing ales and laughter, were holding them at the points of swords and arrows. The Fraser's lowered their weapons, knowing they were vastly out-numbered, not knowing they were giving their lives away by doing it.

Manus Fraser faced off against James MacRae when he walked up. He stood in front of MacRae and looked at him with a mix of shock and outrage, with an underlying bed of fear roiling in the pit of his stomach. 

"What are ye doing, MacRae? Why are ye holding us like this?" he asked him, the anger rising in his voice.

"Where's Sloan and the other men that sailed wi' us the other night? I need tae talk wi' them." MacRae answered back, his order returned with equal anger showing in his eyes and on his face.

"They're away. They left yesterday and we don'ne know when they'll be back." Manus replied, not releasing the whereabouts in detail.

MacRae looked at him closely, gauging Manus' strength and resolve. He knew he was acting as the leader, making the choices for the rest.

"Where did they go, Fraser?" MacRae asked, with little thought he would get a reply. " He did'ne say where. They rode oot yesterday morning and said they'd be back in a few days. When they come back, I'll tell him ye want tae talk wi' him and ha'e him ride tae yer village." Manus told him, hoping he would accept the offer and leave.

"I can see ye'll be no help tae me, in answering my question. So, yer no use then." MacRae told him, his face turning and taking a set in anger.

The glint of light raced along the three and a half feet of razor edge, as MacRae brought his sword around in an arcing move. In a moment, the sword stopped and Manus' head tilted and rolled off his left shoulder. A brief second later, his body toppled and fell, the blood slowly pumping from the arteries. Before anyone could react, MacRae's voice roared out to everyone.

"Where is Sloan Fraser and his men? Ye'll tell me or die, like that one." 

The fear took over the clan, like a wave crashing on them. The ones who went to retaliate, were shot with several arrows each and died where they stood, forcing the others to drop their weapons and heed the enraged madman with due diligence. MacRae looked among the people, still seeing defiance on their faces and pointed at a young man.

"Him. Take him and tie him oot."

Several men ran and took hold of nineteen year old, Elgin Fraser, dragging him over to a pair of trees growing eight or so feet from each other. They lashed his hands to them, stretching his arms wide. MacRae walked over to him, drawing his dirk out as he came. He took hold of Elgin's tunic and sliced it open, ripping it from his body. He held the dirk up and thrust it in beside the spine at the top of his shoulders, then tore it down, severing the ribs from their place. Again down the other side and then MacRae dropped the dirk. Elgin screamed in horrific pain feeling his body sliced open. Using his fingers, MacRae pried the ribs apart and pulled them out of his body, spreading them out like bloody wings. He reached into the opened chest cavity and pulled Elgin's lungs out and let them dangle outside. With no way to breathe in, Elgin suffocated in agony as he died.

"Where is Sloan Fraser and his men?" MacRae roared out once more.

Faces no longer held defiance, but in their hearts, they knew they would never tell. The Fraser's prided themselves on a solemn trait, death before dishonour. Some had faced the trial before, but many had not. Each would have to look inside themselves for the strength of commitment, as MacRae grew more outraged at seeing he had affected them with the display, but still no one would speak. 

"Take all the men and tie them fer the Blood Eagle. They'll either talk, or die." MacRae ordered.

The MacLean's were first to take men and start tying them to anything that served the purpose. The others followed and soon, every man was tied securely, awaiting the order to be given by James MacRae. The women and children stood in terror-stricken horror, as the menfolk were taunted with dirks and swords, poking and slicing them.

"I'll stop the noo, all I want tae know, is where Sloan and the others are and I'll leave." MacRae yelled out, so everyone could hear.

Thirteen year old Colin Fraser stood suspended and stretched painfully. He had witnessed the prior torture and dreaded it being done to him. Through his wailing sobs, he pled for his life and spoke out.

"I'll tell ye where he is. Don't kill me, I'll tell ye."

McLaughlin Fraser heard him and called out for him to stay his tongue. Before he could say anything more, the hilt of a sword cracked across the back of his head and he hung silent. Colin saw MacRae approaching him and cringed. He fought with his heart to do the right thing or break oath and try to save his life, while sentencing twenty others to their deaths. His sobs grew in intensity as MacRae stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

"Where are they, boy? Tell me and I'll spare yer life." MacRae spoke quietly and softly, hoping to ease the teen into disclosing their whereabouts.

Colin looked at James and saw the blood of Manus and Elgin upon him. With all the courage he could muster, he shook his head and tried to be brave. MacRae smiled at him and then to his men.

"He wants tae play games does he? First he says he'll tell, then he shakes his head and says he won't. I don't ha'e time fer games, young Fraser." he said to his men and the last into Colin's face. "Spread his legs and lift his kilt." MacRae ordered the men beside him.

Colin's legs were stretched apart and his kilt lifted up above his waist. MacRae reached out and took hold of Colin's penis and scrotum in his hand and squeezed it tightly, pulling it away from his body. Colin howled in agony as it tore at the nerves, then MacRae moved in closer, so his face was close to Colin's. Without knowing what he was doing, Colin suddenly felt a searing pain race through him, as MacRae sliced through the gristly flesh and severed Colin's pubescent manhood from his body. As Colin screeched in extreme agony, James stuffed the amputated organ into his mouth and down his throat. Colin gagged on his own member and soon, he too had his life extinguished in brutal fashion.

"Do them all. I'm no wasting anymore of my time asking. They want tae play games wi' me, I'll play some games wi' them." James shouted out, ordering the slaughter of forty three men.

Horrific screams began, as backs were sliced, bones broken and ribs torn out of their bodies. One by one the screams died out, as their lungs were pulled out, denying them the breath to scream. The women and children continued to scream in terror, as they watched the scene happening, the points of deadly weapons concentrated on them. MacRae felt sure he would get his answers now from the women, the strength of their men gone and now left defenceless.

MacRae approached them and the screams of terror rose, each of them wondering what horrors awaited them. MacRae took hold of Maglyn Fraser, young, pretty and at least eight months pregnant with Sloan's baby. He pulled her out so everyone could see her and held her by the throat. The women cried and gasped, seeing the horror written on Maglyn's face. MacRae held his bloodied dirk to the underside of her belly, looking amongst the women for one to speak. As much as many wanted to, they held themselves back and stayed their tongues from speaking.

MacRae saw the willingness to remain silent and drew the blade into and across Maglyn's swollen skin. Her eyes went wide in shock at feeling herself being sliced open and gutted, her screams held back by MacRae's grasp. With the confines of flesh no longer containing it, Maglyn's unborn child spilled out and fell to the ground, the umbilical cord trailing back inside her. The screaming became hysterical at the sight of the tiny child lying on the ground, its mother's blood flowing down its cord of life and coating it in red.

Maglyn was barely alive, as MacRae forced her to look down at her child, then he raised his foot and slammed it back down on the infant's skull, crushing the soft bone and killing it. James pulled her head back by her hair and while looking at the faces of the other women, sliced Maglyn's throat and tossed her dying body over her lifeless baby.

"Where is Sloan Fraser? Tell me!" James raged at them.

All he got were screams of abject horror and dread from them in return. Knowing he would never receive an answer, he made a decision to end the questions and finish what he came to do. He turned to Mackenzie and Malcolm, who had stood behind him throughout and ordered them to have spears sunk into the ground, enough for every single Fraser left alive. He wanted them in a formation, wanting to make a statement of what he could do. His command of life and death.

The men started gathering all the spears lying about and cut them in half. Using their swords, they dug holes down and sank the ends of the spears in. Six rows of ten spears each were positioned, enough for all the women and children left. The women became terrified beyond any imaginable horror, as they became aware of what they were for and how they would be used. 

The men grabbed a hold of the first woman, a young mother keeping hold of her two children. She tried to hang onto them, but they were torn from her grasp. They pulled her over to the first spear in line and four men lifted her up, lining her up with her sexual opening. They looked back to James MacRae, who gave a nod and the men released her. The point of the spear skewered her instantly, her own weight and gravity being all that was needed to impale her. All she could manage to let out was a gurgled grunt, before she died and remained motionless.

Her children were brought over and first the son of ten was raised and then the twelve year old daughter. Their frantic screaming stopped instantly, as both were impaled on the stakes. In less than five minutes, Sloan's sister, Kileana, niece Breanna and nephew Colson were dead, now positioned feet apart from each other, in lifeless morbidity.

Soon all the women and children were brought and stood before a stake. Whether they kicked and screamed, or just let it happen and prayed, every woman and child left, was added to the deadly formation. James MacRae stood and looked at the carnage he had created. Men with backs torn open, women and children skewered through, were making a sight he hoped struck a chord in Sloan and his men, that their lives were short-lived and would be treated to an even worse demise. He looked at the other leaders beside him, as they looked at him, the understanding this could be their fate, or worse, should they decide to go against him.

Far back on the eastern ridge, where MacRae had started his attack, twenty men watched the last of their clan being slaughtered. Sloan and his men had sailed back from their island, after spending as much time learning to sail their crafts as they could. They had spotted the three birlinns and recognized them from their night of raiding, so they landed beside them. They had made their way up to the ridge, just in time to see the last of it happening. They walked back down the hillside, a cavalcade of emotions running through each of them, Sloan more so. He was never told why this was happening, but in his heart, he knew they had been found out. No other reason would suffice, for what he had just witnessed James MacRae order his men to do.

They looked at each other, the pain of their loss on each of their faces. Wives, mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers, children, gone. Each man shared in agony with one another, none being untouched by the act. Sloan knew they had no choice except to leave, but he would take what he could from MacRae and cause him as much hardship as he could. In no way equal to the loss they had suffered, the Fraser's pushed all four birlinns out in the water and sailed them off. Sloan knew it would strain the ability of MacRae to move his forces, when the battle came to pass. He also started to think of what to do, now that the men about him, were the last of his clan.

*****************************

Argus didn't wait for any comments and sat down. He reached for a shortbread finger and stopped himself, then looked at his water and turned to Gordon.

"Could I ha'e a cup of tea, Gordon. I think that'll settle my stomach. Ta."

"Certainly, Mr. Stewart. regular or Earl Grey?" Gordon asked.

"Just regular will do fine thanks." Argus told him, then looked out to see many faces still looking at him in disbelief. "I told ye's it was horrid. Don't look at me like that, I warned ye's and told ye's it was, so did Stuart.

Stuart looked over at Argus and then to the guests. He knew it was something vile and he did warn them, but still felt for them at having to hear of such depravity and cruelty to a human being.

He leaned towards Argus, having thought of something.

"Argus, ye complained tae me aboot leaving things oot, yet ye did'ne explain anything aboot why Braedon was going tae Tioram." Stuart knocked him.

"I did'ne ferget, Stuart. I'm just waiting on a wee cuppa, tae settle me. Och, why do ye ha'e tae make such good shortbread?" Argus chided back and then smiled. "Let me get some tea intae me and then I'll finish up. Will ye look at those two faces. They're ha'ing the grandest time, so they are." Argus said to Stuart, nodding his head at the young couple.

Stuart looked at Tom and Deb, the centre of attention for several couples and smiled, happy to see such a wonderful time being had by them. So much had happened already in the short time they were here, that he knew this would be a very memorable experience for them. He was beginning to think it would be for everyone. 

Gordon brought back a silver tea service and tray and set it beside Argus, who happily watched Gordon pour the fragrant, orange coloured tea into the fine, bone china cup. He passed on adding anything more and took a sip of the hot liquid and smiled, as he felt it warm him inside. After several sips of tea, Argus put his cup back on the saucer and stood again. The guests wore looks of dread on their faces, wondering if more horrific tales were to be told. 

Argus smiled and chuckled lightly, knowing he had 'balanced' the storytelling back from being a romance story, to one of how the clans lived, loved and died by the edge of a sword.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 32



Argus looked at the guests and raised his hands, motioning for them to calm themselves. He could see they were still upset over what he had just told them. 

"Okay, okay, ye's can all hang me up and flog me fer telling such a horrid thing as that and breaking my promise, but noo ye's know why things had tae change. Like I said, yer glad they things don'ne happen the noo, aren't ye? Those people felt the same, but it was part of their daily lives and as ye've just heard, it was a day that started like any other. Try tae imagine waking up and getting tae yer breakfast, only tae ha'e three hundred or so men bang on yer door and then slaughter yer family before yer eyes and then ha'e them commit atrocities on yer flesh. And a good morning tae ye, Mrs. Fraser"

Argus' explanation set the reality of sixteenth century Scotland firm in their minds. It was becoming clearer to them that they were hearing of a time that lived by a different set of rules, far different than the ones used today. Laws were made and carried out by the point of a sword and the man who wielded it. If that man was James MacRae, then whatever his vile mind conceived, that became the law that men abided and lived by, whether they wanted to or not.

"Noo, I'd like tae finish off wi' Sloan and his clan and what they did after they took the birlinns. As Stuart pointed oot tae me, ye's need tae know why Braedon came tae Tioram tae find Arabella. If ye's thought things wi' the Fraser's had gotten a wee bit twisted aroond before, it's e'en more noo. Troubles just befall that clan." he spoke out to the guests, preparing them to hear of events that shaped the course of history.

******************************

The four birlinns plied through the choppy waters of the Mull of Linnhe, as they headed south to the Garvellachs. On board each of them, men sat with broken hearts and minds, re-playing the scenes over and over in their heads. There was little they could do in retaliation, only twenty men to face almost a thousand heavily armed men and weapons. Their tiny island of secrecy was now to become their home, no where else being safe from MacRae's vengeance.

They sailed around the small point and into the cove, beaching the birlinns on the small strip of pebbled land. The men disembarked and pulled them up, before milling around aimlessly, lost in a confusion of thoughts. Sloan stayed on his birlinn and stood on the prow, looking at his men, his clan, his blood. Nothing less than the head of James MacRae on a pike pole, would suffice in bringing any sense of justice to their minds. How could he do that, his mind now pondering the realities they faced? Twenty men and seven birlinns, most with swords and blades only. There was no need to bring bows and arrows while they trained in secrecy, so they had left all but a couple behind.

They'd have to wait there, until MacRae and the others marched back to Dunollie and then sailed to Ballachulish, in the last of MacDougall's birlinns. With any luck, there might be some of their weapons still there and they could arm themselves better. One thing Sloan knew they had to do, was honour their dead. One hundred and twelve souls had perished and he knew they hadn't told of where they were. There was no time to dig that many graves without being spotted and attacked, ending up in graves themselves, if they were that lucky. A single tribute was all they could afford them.

"Men, tae me!" Sloan shouted to them. 

He waited until they were gathered close around him and told them of what needed to be done.

"We can'ne let this stop us. We may be only twenty, but we're Fraser's and we'll always fight fer that name. We need tae take care of oor dead and see tae their souls. The that 

madness that MacRae has wreaked upon oor people must be erased. A massive pyre 

must be made and everyone has tae be done t'gether. It'll ha'e tae be done under the co'er of darkness, so we're no seen."

Sloan could see his men coming around and regrouping, their purpose and worth returning.

"Before morning's light, a fire so bright shall burn, it'll drooned oot the sun. Everyone fer miles will see it and know the Fraser's are alive and strong. We'll search for every weapon we can find. Bows and dorlochis (quivers) are needed the most. Targes (shields) and blades if ye can find them. Once we ha'e all we can take from oor village, we sail north. We ha'e tae cross nearly thirty miles of unfriendly waters between here and oor destination and once we're there, I can'ne assure ye's that we'll be all that welcome."

Blain had no idea where Sloan was thinking of going. He thought out the distance in his head and came to only one conclusion, Castle Stalker. Before Blain could voice his thoughts, Sloan had answered them.

"Men we're going tae Castle Stalker and see Laird Braedon Stewart. I can'ne see any other way tae strike back at MacRae, than tae join wi' a clan that does'ne know they're going tae be under attack. Once I tell his Lairdship of MacRae's plans tae take o'er Donan, Tioram, Camus and Stalker and who's involved, he'll let us side wi' him. I'll tell it in such a way as tae leave oot certain things that ha'e happened and change the way others did aroond, so we ne'er look like the ones who started anything."

Blain understood instantly what Sloan was trying to accomplish. Where scant hours ago, they had been sailing in birlinns, enacting mock battles against the Stewart's, Sloan was now preparing to side with them and ally with the other clans. He understood Sloan's reasoning that pledging one's allegiance to a stronger clan served no other purpose, than to secure safety for the men and a chance to continue their clan. He looked among the men, seeing the understanding being shared and accepted by them all. Blain looked up at Sloan and saw the pride in his face, shining in his eyes and the set of his stance. For all of his lack of years for experience, Sloan made up for it with his understanding of people. 

Blain missed his brother dearly, but he thought more of his nephew as a leader. McCauley was always a brash and head-strong person, ever since they were boys. He wasn't all that bright and had a tendency to lead with his fists, instead of thinking things through. Sloan had the foresight to see things well in his head, planning out details of where things could go wrong and how to avoid them. This was another show of that quick mind at work. Blain knew he would follow whatever Sloan asked of him, believing in his abilities to think only of the good of the clan first.

"We'll ha'e tae side wi' them and hope they'll take us on. I'll tell them MacRae had come tae us and asked us tae join his alliance wi' the others. I'll say McCauley refused and they killed him ootright. That's almost the truth there. I'll explain that we were oot hunting and when we got back, oor people were slaughtered. We're coming tae warn them of what MacRae is planning tae do and wish tae join wi' them, so we can ha'e oor revenge. We'll appear tae be innocent of any wrongdoing and my hopes are that he let's us join wi' them."

Sloan could see the reasoning being understood in the men and went on.

"If we show a true allegiance tae the Stewart's, it's my hopes they'll help us tae take Dunollie and gi' us some more land. Wi' all the crofters that farm the lands aroond there, we'll be able tae find women and start oor clan o'er again. This time, we'll be starting wi' a castle and a seat of power fer the Fraser's. One we'll build on and make the name Fraser, one that clans will respect and fear tae challenge."

The strength in Sloan's words fuelled the spirit of the men the way he hoped they would. They looked amongst themselves and an assurance of their clan as a whole, would be 

carried on through them. Sloan jumped down and gathered the men around him. He began outlining the steps now needed to be taken to make his plan a success. Three birlinns needed to be sailed back north to Eilean Musdile at the end of Lismore. They would wait there until they saw the birlinn with MacRae heading north. Once they saw he was a safe distance away, they would make their way across and up Loch Etive, to where their horses were still tied. 

Some of the men would get the horses, while the rest sailed in and gathered the dead, laying them in the birlinns. Once all were on board, they would sail back to Eilean Musdile and build their pyre on the bluff. There was plenty of dead wood and pines to make for a brilliant display to light the night sky and send the souls of their loved ones to Heaven and be with the Great Father. Once they'd paid their homage, they would sail around the far side of Lismore and across to Stalker. If all went well, the Fraser's would have a castle and a place in history. If all went well.

The one birlinn was hauled up beside the other four, already covered with branches. There were more birlinns than they could hide, with the lack of brush and trees on the small island to provide a proper screen. Sloan had five men row over to the other island nearest them and retrieve as much brush and branches as they could get, to not only cover the boat, but not look like the area was cleared. They rowed back and soon the limbs and brush were placed around the birlinn, camouflaging it and keeping it hidden from passing fishermen.

They divided the men into three groups and pushed the three birlinns back into the water, before raising the sails and making their way north to the southern tip of Lismore. Fifteen miles were sailed in dread and fear, worrying if MacRae was looking for his birlinns and of course, them. Sloan knew if MacRae was out for vengeance for what he had done to the Douglas boys, then stealing two of his and one of the other's birlinns would have him screaming bloody, blue murder for their souls.

Anchoring on the far side, the men started to gather logs and branches and stacked them in piles. Kenneth climbed to the top of the bluff and kept his eyes peeled for a sail coming out of Dunollie. The men started to take the stacked wood, dry branches and pine boughs up to where Kenneth was keeping watch, the slope causing many to slide and lose their loads. They would complete the pyre once the men's bodies were laid on the first level and then build above them. They hoped they had enough wood and could make it big enough to hold all the bodies.

Trip after trip up the steep slope gave the men enough large wood to construct the base. They laid out an area as square as they could make, estimating how many bodies would fit inside it. Piles of kindling wood were laid out and long limbs laid across them. More were interwoven, creating a base to lay the bodies on. Pine boughs were placed on top to give a semblance of comfort for the dead to lay upon, but also to use the flammable needles to help make enough heat to cremate the bodies to ashes.

Kenneth was tiring of looking endlessly at the far coast and let his eyes drift away to something else of interest. He watched the gulls circling and soaring on the air currents, marvelling at their ability to glide through the air without a flap of their wings. He watched them for a while, until one of the men looked across the waters and raised the alarm. He gave Kenneth a smack on his head and pointed towards the sail, chastising him for his lack of attention. They now had their opportunity to sail. Men dropped what they were doing and hurried to the birlinns, raising anchors and setting sails.

In no time, they were around the point and wending their way across open waters to Loch Etive. The seven miles passed in silence, each man aware of what awaited them once they entered the channel. The weak sun gave little hope of brightness to the dull day, as clouds and haze filled the skies above them. Once the entrance to the loch came up, an uneasiness came over the men, as they tried to mentally prepare for the sight and do what they had to do.

When they passed the hills, the clearing came into view and the scene was upon them. Over sixty women and children were standing still in formation, lined up in rows. From where they were, nothing looked wrong to them. As they sailed a little further, the sight of the forty plus men, still hanging with their ribs and lungs pulled out, caught their line of sight. Birds had already made their start at devouring the flesh and organs exposed to them. The sight had the men turn in horror and sicken themselves, as the first two birlinns scraped up the shore. 

Tears were seen on every man's face, as none could hold back the pain of seeing their family and clan like that. The others sailed another five more miles to their hiding spot and five men disembarked and pushed off the birlinn. They made their way to the horses and untied them, taking four each and rode back within minutes to their encampment. The birlinns were beached and men were waiting to board the horses as they came up. The horses were loaded and rowed across the narrow channel to the other side. The five men took the horses up the embankment and stood with them, as the birlinns were sailed back and pulled up on shore.

Sloan had looked at the closeness of their pass to Dunollie, as they came across and

wanted to keep farther away on the way back and then again when he brought the horses over to Lismore. The hardships of this were weighing heavy on him, trying to keep the remnants of the clan together and still safeguard their lives. He watched as men tried to lift the bodies of their loved ones off the stakes, the wet, sucking sounds tearing at their souls to hear it.

The agony of trying to get them down with some decency, posed a tortured hardship that the men were in torment to deal with. Sloan looked at the situation and knew he had to make a decision to speed up the process. In as much as they wanted to pay respects to them, time was not in their favour. Sloan came to Kileana and her two children. He looked at them for a moment, remembering her, how she had played with him as young children and later sitting and talking of days to come. He looked at her children, how he held them as babies, games he played with them, things he taught them. With growing turmoil in his veins, he drew his sword and cut the spear off at ground level. His sister's body fell to the ground like a tree, the spear keeping her straight and stiff. In two more equal blows, his niece and nephew were released from their grotesque display. 

"Pick her up." was all Sloan said weakly to the closest man, Brent, as he choked on his fractured emotions.

Brent picked her up and carried her under her arms, while Sloan picked up the end of the spear, Kileana's legs dangling loosely. As they saw how to carry the women, more men drew their swords and were felling the bodies as quickly as they could. The spears made the bodies morbidly easier to carry and stack in the boat, laying them carefully atop one another. They loaded up the first birlinn and started on the second, as the rows of women and children were taken down. 

As men began lowering the slain men from their bindings, painful sorrow filled each and every one of them. In an effort to give them decency, they put the lungs back in and tried to close the rib cages, the sounds of bones and sinew cracking, as well as the sucking, fluid sounds of bloodied flesh being moved, made the effort incredibly tortuous. Their lifeless bodies were heavy with dead-weight, as they carried them and filled the second birlinn and started on the third.

Sloan came up to Colin Fraser, his eyes still wide in horror, even during death. Sloan 

looked at his manhood stuffed down his throat and knew he had suffered horribly. He hesitantly reached in his mouth and pulled the severed organ out, before quickly dropping it. Sloan closed Colin's shock-filled eyes and cut him down, letting him land over his shoulder. He carried the young boy down to the boat, his eyes fixed on Brennan, Colin's father. 

Brennan saw Sloan looking at him and then recognized the body slung over his shoulder. His eyes showed the awareness of understanding and the wrought emotion grew on his face.

"Colin, it's him, isn't it, Sloan? My boy's dead." his mouth quivering with the words.

"Aye, Brennan, it's him." Sloan choked out, knowing how Brennan loved his only son.

Brennan reached out and took hold of his son's body and juggled it so it lay cradled in his arms. He craned his head, so he could look at Colin's face, as it hung down. He knew what had been done to him, just by looking at the blood on his legs and around his mouth and chin. Brennan laid Colin atop Gregory Fraser's body, folding his hands over his chest and laid his own atop his son's fair haired head. Sloan knew Brennan wouldn't leave his son's side now and laid his hand on Brennan's shoulder and squeezed tightly several times, before leaving to go back.

The site was cleared of everyone and the men were looking for weapons. All their caches of spears and dorlichis were still hidden and were shortly rounded up and stowed along side the bodies. Eight bows were found that hadn't been broken during the massacre, giving them some distance in their ability to fight. A cache of targes was found, but all the swords and other blades were gone.

They gathered what was left of the food, as well as skins of water, looking around one last time for anything else. As the eyes searched for things, their hearts played memories of moments past before them, flooding them with sorrow once more. Sloan finally called his men together and they all stood silent with heads bowed, hands crossed over their hearts, remembering the slain and vowing their vengeance to them. They looked at the piled bodies in the birlinns and resolved their hearts to commit to that oath.

It took every man to push the heavily laden birlinns into the deeper water, before they could board and sit at the oars. They placed their feet on the bodies and had to use them as leverage to row. They turned and faced out towards the mouth of Loch Etive, before raising the sails and making for Eilean Musdile. The men on the opposite shore raised their hands high and then crossed their hearts, as they saw their clan pass before them. Brave faces were worn by all as they looked at each other, then the men mounted their horses and headed north to the point at Tralee Bay.

Both groups of men were silent through their journeys, as they made their way to their destinations. Minds were filled with every extreme of emotion, battling with the thoughts that filled them. Sloan turned away from the approaching land and looked back at where he had been, remembering event after event of clan life. Deep in his heart, he was glad his own mother had passed away two years earlier and spared the gruesome end the other women in his life had been subjected to.

The men looked back too as they rowed, knowing what was their life, was now becoming just a memory, a moment in each of their lives. Sloan turned back again and looked at Eilean Musdile approaching, keeping an eye out for rock formations lying just under the surface of the dark waters. They rounded the point of the low, flat land and Sloan knew where he wanted the pyre to be erected. The end of the land, signified the end of his clan in his mind, as he kept looking at the area from all angles sailing around it.

The high point of land at the end of the island made all the sense to him, as he pictured the massive pyre burning and where it could be seen from. Five miles away on the 

mainland, Sloan knew that the MacDougall's would see the fire clearly, wanting with all his heart for them to know it was his tribute to his clan they were witnessing. Two miles away on Mull, another clan would be witnessing the spectacle, the Campbell's in Duart Castle. 

The birlinns made their way along the coast, until they were out of view and secluded in a small inlet. They tied off to stumpy bushes growing near the shoreline and were soon unloading the bodies and carrying them up the steep incline to the top of the point, two hundred and twenty feet above them.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 32



The fifteen men carried one hundred and twelve souls up the hill, exhausting themselves physically and mentally, their emotions wreaking their souls immeasurably to look at each and every slain member. The bodies were lain in order of placement on the pyre, men at the bottom, women above them and children atop. When the last members were placed, they turned and made their way down the slope and boarded the birlinns again, making their way back to pick up the five men and twenty horses. 

Eyes were peeled for sails on the water, as they sailed around the point once more and made their way along the south coast of Lismore. Once they passed by two small islands, they were in line with the point where the men would be and turned towards them. The two miles between them were fraught with worry of being spotted by anyone who might recognize them and alert MacRae. The winds favoured them with a hastened journey, making the distance in minutes, as they came around the point and sailed into the four hundred foot long inlet.

The rocky coast sloped away enough that the birlinns could pull tight to the shore, but allowed the horses to step down into the birlinns. The animals brayed and skitted about, as they made their way over the cross benches and were tethered in place. The men calmed the horses down and soon the boats were rowed back out and sails set to catch the wind. The snapping of the sails had the horses frightened and moving about, as the boats started rocking in the water, making the men worry if they would make it across.

It took all they had, to keep all the animals calm and then lowered the sails. To spare everyone's lives, they rowed the rest of the distance, despite the good winds they had. 

They made the coast of Lismore and hugged it closely, hoping to blend against the background of land. As they came to the end, an area of raised, flat land along the coast, afforded them the best place to get the horses out. One at a time the birlinns pulled up to the coast and two men held the bow and aft lines taut on shore, as the others untied the horses and had them make their way onto the land. Sloan and several others stayed with the horses, as the birlinns were sailed around the point and tied up where they were before.

The men hiked back around the point and met up with the others, mounting their horses and riding towards the forested area close by. Large, dead trees lay scattered about from the storm that ripped through the area days before. The men set about gathering them in, making a pile of them. They cut the roots and branches away with Claymores and battle axes, shaping them for transport and construction. Sloan knew it would take a great many trees and branches to construct what he saw in his mind. He knew they could never carry the trees up the slope from this side, even though it wasn't as steep a grade. He had Kenneth ride back with Duncan and retrieve all the loose rope they could find on the birlinns.

Shortly, the two were back with plenty of hemp rope in different lengths, laying them on the ground by the trees. Quickly, the men fashioned harnesses around the horses and trailed tow lines back from them. Trees were tied on and the horses began pulling them up to their destination, Slowly the process went, as more and more trees were brought up to the site and men started laying them out, as Sloan instructed them to. The large square was laid out and branches laid across them, strong enough to support the weight of the men's bodies. They were layered with dried branches and kindling and then pine boughs cut down and laid on top.

When the first tier was complete, the men started to pick up the men and laid them out, placing their arms over their chests and keeping them close together. When it was filled, they started on the second tier and made another level of branches and pine boughs. The men worked tirelessly, despite the exhaustion, completing the level and laying out the rest of the men. Brennan laid the body of his son, Colin, with the men, knowing in his heart he had died like one. It tore at him to have to take his hands away from him and never lay eyes on him again. Sloan helped him rise and stood with him for a moment, before he helped him climb down. They all descended the growing tower and looked at it, resting while more trees and branches were brought up.

The fading light of day, didn't hinder the men's efforts, as they continued gathering and transporting material to the site. One by one the tiers were erected and layered with the bodies of the women next. Weeping was commonplace among the men, none able to look at them and not feel great pain in their hearts at their suffering. Once the last woman was lain atop the pyre, sixteen bodies remained. They made one last tier and used the softest of materials they had. The men looked at the small, lifeless bodies of the children, none more then twelve, the youngest being the unborn child of Maglyn Fraser, still attached to her and both wrapped in a blanket to spare the men the sight of what MacRae had done to them. She would be laid in the centre, the children placed around her.

Once the final tier was made, the men raised the bodies of the children on their shoulders and climbed their way up to the top. One by one the bodies were carefully placed, men grieving openly for their loved ones. Sloan carried up the wrapped baby and mother on his shoulder and placed it in the centre of the pyre, giving his wife and child a great place of honour in the clan. Slowly the men climbed down, looking at the layers of men and women as they transcended.

Darkness was upon the site, so the men made a small fire and sat by it as they watched the flames. Silence was heavier than the air and sat around them like a shroud, as each man sat reflecting to himself. Sloan searched for words inside himself, ones he hoped could bring a peace to the men's hearts, but none were to be found. His own heart was rending itself into numerous pieces, as he remembered each and every soul that was laid atop the pyre. He hoped their farewell would lead the way to getting their minds and his changed and set for what was to come. Grief and loss aside, he knew they had to ready themselves to face the next leg of their journey. Talking to Laird Braedon Stewart and convincing him to accept their allegiance.

Sloan finally made the order to ready torches and twenty men lit the night sky with flames. They walked to the pyre, standing close to twelve feet in height, in six tiers and circled around it. Through the crackling of flames, Sloan spoke out his love of his people, his sorrow and sadness and his oath to avenge their massacre. He gave hope to his men that their lives weren't taken in vain, that they would live on. Once he finished, he stepped forward and held his flames to the wood. Shortly after, all the men had their torches lighting the wood on fire, the flames catching the dried kindling and pine boughs and sparking the fire to catch.

Slowly the flames rose, catching the next layer above it on fire. In minutes, the heat had intensified and drove the men back, as it burst into a roaring inferno. The flames rushed higher and higher, until they passed the top and curled with the rising heat. Sloan led his men away from the site and back to their camp. The fire lit up the area as bright as day and Sloan knew it was being seen on the mainland by the MacDougall's and any others 

along the coast. All the surrounding area would be able to see the display, as the light penetrated the darkness for miles. 

As they watched the flames consume the structure, four men approached cautiously from behind them. They were unarmed and curious as to the nature of the display. They came within twenty feet of the men watching the fire and stood behind bushes watching them. Before they had a chance to do anything, two Claymores were pointing at their backs. The two guards had watched them approach and came upon them when they stopped.

"State yer purpose." was all that was said by Grahame Fraser.

The older one spoke to the guards in reply. "We came tae see what the fire was aboot. I ha'e a farm along the way." the older man pointing back in the direction, "These are my boys and we came tae see what was causing it." he told them.

Grahame motioned for them to go to the other Fraser's, following with points aimed at their backs. Grahame called out to Sloan, who looked at the men approaching. 

"Who are these men?" Sloan asked him.

"Farmers, from o'er there, they said." he replied, pointing himself in the direction he was given.

Sloan looked at the four men and could see the resemblance between them and knew them to be family. He came to the older one and looked him over.

"What's yer name?" he asked the old man.

"Glendon Fraser and these are my sons, Glenn, my oldest, Blair, my second and Sinclair, my youngest." he told him, pointing out each.

"A Fraser? Yer a Fraser ye say? Then yer among kith and kin. We're all Fraser's here. I'm Sloan Fraser, son of McCauley Fraser and Chieftain of these men." he told him, holding out his hand to him.

Glendon looked at the young man before him and hesitantly took his wrist and shook with him. He looked about at the men and then back to Sloan.

"Do ye know Manus Fraser, son of Machlan Fraser? He's my cousin." Glendon asked, wondering about the relation.

"Aye, I know Manus. He was a good man and I'll miss him greatly." Sloan told him, as he turned to look at the fire.

"What's that fire all aboot, Sloan?" Glendon asked, noting the attention it received from everyone.

Sloan looked at him and then his sons, before telling him.

"It's oor clan, Glendon. James MacRae and his men slaughtered the entire village. We came here tae send their souls off and hide from MacRae. There's hundred and twelve souls in there, including Manus. Men, women and children, he slaughtered everyone and did it in the most brutal way he could." Sloan informed him, seeing him look at the pyre as he spoke, knowing now what was burning.

"And how did ye's no get caught?" Glendon asked, wondering the obvious.

"We were away hunting when they came. We had just come back and stood and watched as they did it and we could'ne do anything tae stop them. They had three hundred men, tae oor twenty, so we did'ne stand a chance of doing anything, but dying wi' oor clan." Sloan lied, keeping their innocence of their acts.

"Why did they do that?" Glendon had to ask next.

MacRae wants tae build an army of clans and attack castles and take them o'er. My father was asked tae join and they killed him fer saying no. We thought nothing more tae be done aboot it, until we came back and found them slaughtering oor people. Noo there's only the twenty of us left, but we want oor revenge on MacRae, as well as the Douglas, MacLean and MacDougall clans that side wi' him." Sloan told him, keeping the flow of lies coming.

Sloan started to enjoy telling the lies, as he got a feel for how he'd have to do it later, when he talked to Braedon Stewart. He knew he had to be convincing in what he said for Braedon to believe him. Glendon was accepting his story. Without anyone denying it, he had no choice but to believe everything he was told. 

"We're going tae pay oor respects tae oor dead and then go tae Castle Stalker and see Laird Braedon Stewart. He needs tae know that he will come under attack from MacRae and we hope tae join wi' him and fight against MacRae and his clans." Sloan told Glendon with assurance, all spoken was the truth.

"Where are ye's camped? Here?" Glendon asked Sloan, looking about at the men around him.

"We ha'e no where else, Glendon. Until we at least ha'e oor justice served on MacRae. We ha'e no where tae call home, but the stars above oor heads, until we do. So, I welcome ye tae the Fraser's camp, Glendon." Sloan told him, hoping the tale evoked some bond between them.

"When are ye going tae see Laird Braedon?" Glendon asked.

"In the morrow. We ha'e tae be away from here soon. That fire will attract attention and ha'e people coming tae look. We can'ne be here when they do come. We're in no state tae fight yet, as ye can see. So we'll sail tae him as soon as we can." Sloan told him, not realizing an important part was exposed.

"Ye's are sailing there? Hoo are ye getting there?" Glendon asked innocently.

Sloan realized his err and came clean to Glenn.

"When we saw what they did to oor clan, we took their birlinns and came here tae hide them. When I saw the point, I knew it was where we had tae send the souls of oor people off. Noo we ha'e twenty horses, four birlinns and twenty men and no place tae call home anymore." 

Glendon looked at Sloan and then the rest of the men.

"If yer Fraser's, then yer kin tae me. Oor farm is just o'er the hills there." Glendon told him pointing towards his farm. "Ye can find shelter there, till ye go tae see the Stewart's."

"My thanks tae ye, Glendon. Do ye ha'e anywhere we can hide oor birlinns? They're no safe where they are, they can be seen easy enough by passing boats." Sloan asked him, hoping he could secure them in a better place.

"Aye, there's a wee inlet close tae us that'll do. Ha'e yer men sail them aroond the point and doon the coast. They'll see the inlet just o'er there." Glendon told him, pointing to where the inlet would be.

Sloan looked at the pyre, proud in his achievement to send his clan off with a respectful tribute. He turned to his men and sent all but four to retrieve the birlinns and gave the directions Glendon had given him. The men were off in haste, wasting no time in getting there. Sloan and the others, along with Glendon and his sons, walked the horses back to the Fraser's farm. As they walked along the coast, the birlinns sailed past quietly, making for the inlet.

"Where the dense trees are." Glendon shouted out to them, pointing to an area further down.

"Hoo long ha'e had the farm, Glendon?" Sloan asked, making small talk to get to know his kin better.

"It's been in oor family o'er a hundred years noo. God willing, it'll be in oor family another hundred." Glendon told him, his pretences of trouble looming, coming out.

"Why do ye say that, Glendon?" Sloan wondered.

"Wi' all the goin's on, I know something is coming. I've felt it in my bones. Mark my words, Sloan, bad tidings will fall upon the clans soon. Ye may think I'm a daft old man, but I read it in the flames of the fire just noo again." Glendon told him, looking to see a re-action from him.

"Again?" Sloan queried him.

"Aye. A for'night ago I saw it in the flames of my own hearth. Saw trouble brewing in the coals. Saw great deaths and lands taken o'er." he told Sloan, confident in the words he spoke.

Sloan heard the truth in his words. Knew in his heart that this man did indeed see the future. He studied him casually, measuring him, feeling him out.

"What else ha'e ye seen, Glendon? Death and battles wi' who? Do ye know?" he asked, wanting to see the depth of his visions.

"I've seen birlinns, great numbers clashing t'gether. The glens across the way in River Sheil will run wi' blood. Great numbers of men will die. Hundreds and hundreds of them. But I know one thing, there'll be a peace at the end of it. Who they are, that I don'ne know. I do know that the man who leads the attacking force is a large man. A man wi' evil in his heart."

Glendon's account of battles and locations were too precise to write off as the ramblings of a demented, old man and his description of MacRae was as close as anyone could guess at him. His curiosity was peaking in wanting to sit this night and listen to the telling of premonitions and portends. 

As they reached the stable, the horses were unbridled and allowed to go freely within the paddock. Glendon's work horses were skittish around the highland ponies that joined them at first, but settled down and allowed the new-comers to be near them. They closed the gate and watched the men walking up from the coast, after secreting the birlinns into the inlet.

It was the look on Keith's face that had Sloan concerned, as he approached. Keith looked at Sloan and then to Glendon, once he was with them. Glendon looked back at Keith, wondering why he looked at him the way he did.

"Hoo do ye come tae ha'e three birlinns, Glendon?" Keith asked, knowing the impossibility of a farmer owning one birlinn, let alone three.

"Three birlinns? I don't ha'e a birlinn, let alone three. Ne'er been on the water more than twice in my life." Glendon replied, his confusion to Keith's statement showing on his face and in his eyes.

"What birlinns, Keith?" Sloan asked him.

"We brought the boats intae the inlet, like he said and foond three birlinns already there, co'ered o'er wi' branches." Keith told him.

Sloan looked at Keith and then back to Glendon, looking for a reason they were there. 

"Ye don't know aboot they birlinns Keith is talking aboot, Glendon?" 

"No, I don'ne know what he's talking aboot. Ask my sons, ask anyone aroond here. I've ne'er owned a birlinn, or wanted one fer that matter. I'm a farmer, Sloan, no a fisherman. I ha'e no use fer one, let alone three. I would ha'e said something when I told ye's tae put yer's there." Glendon stated to him 

Sloan saw the truth in Glendon's eyes and looked back at Keith.

"Show me, Keith. Come wi' us, Glendon, ye'll need tae see them fer yerself. If they're there, I need tae know why they're there and if ye ha'e anything tae do wi' them being there." Sloan told Glendon, a hint of threatening tone in his voice.

"Sloan, as a Fraser tae a Fraser, I swear tae ye, I know nothing aboot any birlinns." Glendon responded, his own tone becoming one of a defensive nature, but still the strength of conviction in his words.

Sloan looked at him closely, studying his eyes and his face. He looked at Glendon's sons and studied their eyes and faces too, looking for a sign they had been caught. None gave even the merest of signs that they were lying. Sloan had Keith lead them back towards the coast, the half mile walk made in silence, each reflecting in their minds how this event might change things between them.

Once they made the end of the farmed land, a dense area of tall, scrub bush and trees marked the start of the inlet. Keith walked along it, their three birlinns moored as close up as they could be brought. He stopped short of them and pulled at branches, bringing them away from the boats behind them. Glendon looked at them, as did his son's, then turned to Sloan in immediate defence.

"I've ne'er seen those before, Sloan, I swear. I ne'er e'en knew they were there, till the noo." Glendon stated honestly.

Sloan looked at him and knew from his eyes he was being honest. He looked back at the exposed part of the birlinn and his mind took hold of a thought.

"Clear this away." he shouted out to his men.

Quickly branches and limbs were cleared away, exposing all three craft that were hidden. Sloan and his men looked at them and knew immediately who these boats belonged to. Sloan took hold of the situation, not wanting to give away any more of their involvement with MacRae.

"I've seen these boats before. They were being sailed by the MacDougall, MacLean and Douglas clans. Blain, Keith, Brennan and Duncan were wi' me when we saw them. The night they came tae talk tae my father, McCauley, they were sailing these boats. What are they doing here, though?"

Sloan's men drew upon his story and knew what he was doing. They started following his lead and confirmed their part of it. Glendon looked at Sloan with confused worry coming across his face. Sloan saw the situation was diffused and an alibi established for them, but now looked at Glendon.

"That's the clans I just told ye aboot. The ones that came wi' MacRae and killed my father. They're also the ones who just killed my clan. When I go tae see the Stewart's the morrow, I'll be able tae tell him I ha'e ten birlinns under my command that I'm ready tae sail. Those bastards won't be using these tae raid wi' anymore. Do ye ha'e anything tae do wi' those being here, Glendon? Tell me the truth, as clan and kin."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 32



"I swear tae ye Sloan Fraser. We've ne'er seen they birlinns before. We don't know any of the clans ye're talking aboot. We're just farmers and keep tae oor own. I've told ye's already, we don't come doon here."

Glendon, nor his sons, voiced any objection to Sloan laying claim to the discovered birlinns. To them, they were just as happy to see them leave the area. Glendon's only concern was being implicated with them or the clans they belonged to. One thing Sloan said, did make him pause to think. If there were six boats here, where were the other four and why did Sloan Fraser have so many?

"I believe ye, Glendon. Ye don't look the type of man tae be sorting wi' men like that. We were farmers tae. I know what kind of people ye are and I trust ye's."

Glendon and his son's took on faces of relief, hearing they had no part in the birlinns or the clans. 

"Come then, we'll go back tae the hoose and try tae feed the lot of us." Glendon announced, bringing the mood back to one of friendship and hospitality.

Sloan had the men pull their birlinns in tight with the others and used the branches and limbs to cover the view from the loch. Once satisfied, they headed back the half mile to the stone cottage, where swirls of smoke from the hearth spelled warmth and food.

"We ha'e some food left from oor site, Glendon. We'll be honoured tae share what we ha'e wi' ye's. It gi's us a moments peace tae be among clan and no ha'e tae worry aboot oor lives. We ha'e no idea if Stewart will e'en let us side wi' him, but wi' what I ha'e tae tell him, I'm hoping he'll see tae reason and let us unite."

Glendon looked at the ground and then to his cottage. In a vision before him, his place was on fire and bodies lay on the ground. He turned to Sloan and saw a black shroud surrounding him, darkening his sight of him. He looked away, knowing in one way or another, the man walking beside him, was the Porrohman and marked his death. He would either be killed by him tomorrow, or be the reason they were killed. Whenever and however it happened, Sloan Fraser would be the cause of it, that he was sure of. 

They reached the cottage and saw Glendon's wife, Wynda, standing in the doorway. Behind her was their daughter Kyla, seventeen and anxious to see men, other than her father and brothers and twenty were coming her way. She did her best to peer around her mother and get a better look at the men coming. Her mother shooed her inside, much to her disappointment, but she kept her eyes peering outside to get a look.

Glendon came to the cottage and stopped. He looked at the men and then to Sloan. 

"I don't ha'e enough room fer ye's all tae come inside. The stable has a loft yer men can sleep in and sit, while I see tae the food and call ye's when it's ready. Boys, inside" Glendon instructed his sons.

"We thank ye, Glendon. Yer hospitality is well appreciated by all. Is this yer family?" Sloan asked, looking quickly at Wynda and then longer at Kyla.

Even the loose frock she was wearing didn't hide the ripe maturity of her body. Sloan's eyes met with Kyla's and an instant attraction was made between them. Glendon saw his daughter staring at Sloan and glanced at him. He looked at Wynda and told her to take Kyla in and prepare more food for all the men, hoping to put a halt to the growing amorous feelings she was displaying. Sloan handed Wynda a satchel of food and smiled brightly at Kyla, before her mother hustled her inside and closed the door.

Sloan stood smiling at the door, then turned to see the look of a protective father on Glendon's face. His smile vanished quickly, as he knew Glendon read his thoughts, leaving him feeling like a fox in the hen house. Glendon slowly shook his head, knowing what Sloan was thinking of and turned away. He led the men to the stable and showed them where they could eat and sleep for the night, the loose straw making far more comfort than the bare ground.

No sooner had Glendon left and out of earshot, then the men were talking about his daughter, Kyla. She had made quite an impression on them with her looks, her long, dark hair draping over her right shoulder, while her dark, brown eyes sparkled with youthful exuberance. They talked of her ripe body and bountiful breasts and how she was ready for motherhood and mostly nights under the robes, feeling her soft curves pressed against them. Sloan added his own thoughts about her, but kept his thoughts of being with her to himself.

In his mind, he had thoughts of Maglyn and his unborn child and turned to look at the bluff. The light of the pyre lit up the inky, night sky, reminding him who lay atop it. His heart tore at remembering them together, from their first meeting, to the expectancy of their first child. He looked back at the cottage and thought of Kyla. There were no similarities between Maglyn and her, but there was something about her that attracted him to her. He felt the tingle go through him the moment their eyes met.

As the men shared lurid thoughts of what Kyla might be like under the robes, Sloan silently weighed out his feelings. His heart wasn't ready to let go of Maglyn's presence there, but he knew he wanted to feel Kyla's presence, when the time came to let Maglyn 

go.

Close to an hour later, Glendon came back and told the men that their food was ready and to come and be served. They retrieved their bowls and were soon lined up outside the door waiting for a taste of whatever smelled so good, coming from the pot on the hearth. Wynda ladled out the stew, a combination of vegetables and whatever meat was available. Sloan waited until all the men were fed, before he took his serving.

He kept his eyes on Kyla as much as he could, shifting them if he thought Glendon or Wynda looked at him. He took in her looks and her rounded curves, feeling a lust grow in him. In a moment, his mind shut her out and remembered about the visions. Tearing his eyes away from her, he turned to Glendon.

"Glendon, would ye object tae me eating wi' ye's? I'd like tae talk tae ye."

Glendon looked at him and then to Wynda, before he looked at Kyla, smiling with expectant hope. He knew if she was here and so was Sloan, the likelihood of anything happening was minimized.

"Aye, we can make a place fer ye, Sloan. Boys, make some room fer Sloan tae sit wi' ye's."

Sloan watched the boys slide down the bench and make him a spot to sit and eat. Kyla quickly took her spot opposite him and soon all were eating. The stew smelled and tasted good to Sloan, having spent the entire day exerting himself and nothing to eat. While happily eating and looking about the small, stone cottage, he felt something rising up his leg. Looking at Kyla and the sly look in her eyes, he knew it to be her foot making its way along his thigh, under his kilt. Sloan quickly stopped her foot from making it all the way to his crotch, without bringing attention to what was happening. Kyla kept pushing with her foot to make it to her goal, while Sloan fought her off and ate his stew.

The struggle came to a head, when Sloan's hand slipped off Kyla's foot, allowing it to make contact with his pride and his testicles. Not only did it send Sloan sliding off the bench, but brought him into great agony, the excruciating pain making him curl in a ball, with his hands holding onto himself gently. Glendon had seen Kyla slide forward and knew what had happened. He glared at her, the anger growing as he rose from the table. He came around and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her from her seat.

"Ye harlot. Ye sinful, God-less harlot." Glendon called her, as he slapped her face and head.

Kyla tried to block the slaps, screaming in pain, as her father rained them down on her.

"Stop! Don't hit her again, Glendon. She did'ne do anything tae deserve that." Sloan shouted, as he beseeched Glendon.

"Don't tell me what tae do in my hoose, Fraser. Kin or no, ye've no right tae tell me hoo tae deal wi' my family." Glendon shot back in anger.

He turned and slapped Kyla twice more, before Sloan was off the floor and took hold of his hand. Glendon tried yanking it out of Sloan's grasp, but it was held too tightly. He looked at Sloan with rage, insulted he would come in to his place and treat him like this. Sloan looked back in defiance, holding onto Glendon's wrist firmly. Glenn and Blair were off the bench and ready to help their father, until they saw the ten inch blade of Sloan's dirk waving in front of their eyes. Sloan held it to Glendon's eye and let him see how close he was to it. Glendon calmed down and didn't fight at Sloan anymore, realizing how dire his situation had become.

"Don't hit her again. I've just lost all the women of my clan and I can'ne stand by and watch another be hurt. She's done me no wrong, Glendon. Maybe a little tae obvious in her affections fer me, but no something tae lay a beating like that on her fer." Sloan told him, his eyes showing the pain of his loss, then embarrassment of what was done and 

then his concern for Kyla.

Glendon's rage lessened on his face, as he thought of what he had just seen earlier and knew had happened to Sloan's clan. He looked at Wynda's concern written boldly across her face, then to his son's, who looked at him the same. He began to realize how thankful he should be, that he still had them with him, alive and well. He looked at Sloan and released Kyla's hair, then helped her up from the dirty, wooden floor. He held her at arms length and looked at her, realizing how much he truly cared about her. As his heart began filling with his love for her, he pulled her tight to his chest and hugged her. 

Slowly, Kyla's arms went around Glendon and she hugged her father back, accepting the unspoken apology of his affections. Sloan walked past them both and patted Glendon on his shoulder, sliding his dirk back in its sheath, as he took his seat again beside Sinclair. Glendon kissed his daughter on the top of her head, before he gave her a look to behave and then sat in his chair. Kyla looked at her father and then at Sloan, a rebellious twinkle still glinting in the dark pools, letting him know she was undeterred in letting him know her feelings hadn't changed.

Sloan saw the sparkle and subtle facial change and knew she was as interested in him, as he was in her. He looked away and turned to Glendon, knowing only more trouble would ensue if he paid Kyla anymore attention. He wanted to know more about his insights and visions and if he could see anything else.

"Glendon, I wanted tae ask ye aboot yer visions. Hoo long ha'e ye been able tae see them?"

Glendon finished chewing down his food and then looked at Sloan, a measurement passing between them 

"I started tae get them when I was a young boy. I did'ne say anything tae anyone aboot them at first. Once they started tae come true, I was feared that Lucifer had possessed me. It was my mother that knew something was up wi' me. She saw hoo I was, when something happened and I acted like I'd seen it all before. When I told her I had, she told me I was gi'en a gift and not a curse. I had the chance to know what would happen and prepare fer it." Glendon told Sloan openly, unashamed of his powers.

"What kind of things do ye see? Is it only terrible things, or do ye see good things as well?" Sloan asked, hoping Glendon might see good fortune.

"I saw Wynda and I t'gether, long before I met her. I knew we'd be here, I saw it happening. The storm that came a week past, I knew aboot it. I saw the rage it held and we prepared oorselves fer it tae come. We suffered no losses because of it, unlike the other farmers here aboot. I told ye already of the troubles that are coming. Sometimes I see things that make me pray fer my soul." Glendon told him, but the look in his eyes held more than he was saying.

Sloan wasn't the only one who noticed it and Wynda's look became worrisome.

"What is it, Glendon? What do ye see?" she asked him, knowing he was holding back.

"I'll no speak of it the noo. Finish yer meals and leave me be." he told them with authority. 

Everyone looked at him, their eyes still beseeching him to let them know. Glendon scowled back at everyone, letting them know he was serious to leave it alone. Sloan looked at Wynda and then to the others, seeing the concern on their faces and wondered what they knew, that he didn't. The rest of the meal passed in strained silence, as Sloan felt his chance at questioning Glendon was over. He sat and contemplated what Glendon might know and why he wasn't telling them. 

Once the last mouthful had gone into his mouth, Sloan cleaned off his knife and slid it back into its sheath on his waist. He looked at the family and rose.

"I thank ye's fer yer hospitality and the food, it's been greatly appreciated. My men thank 

ye as well. I'll go noo and be wi' them and we'll leave in the dawning. I offer my apologies fer earlier, but ye understand noo, why. Goodnight tae ye's all." Sloan told them tersely, sensing the strain growing between them.

Kyla looked heart-broken at the news, while Glendon and the rest smiled politely, happier that his presence was leaving them and taking the tensive state with him. Sloan looked at the tear-filled eyes of Kyla and felt his own eyes welling, knowing they had something between them. He turned and walked quickly from the cottage and headed for the stable and his men.

They asked what went on inside and Sloan told them of Glendon's visions. They sat agog, listening to him relate of events Glendon had seen and finished with the unspoken troubles that were coming. They questioned Sloan, wanting to know more, but he shook his head and told them Glendon wouldn't divulge any more information.

The men lay on the straw that they had strewn about, discussing the subject of visions. Sloan eased out of the conversation and let his mind drift back to Kyla. The connection between them was stronger now, he felt it. He knew from his decision to defend her, that he felt for her, more than just a reaction to his clan's massacre.

Sleep came hard for all the men, as personal memories flooded thoughts and minds. As the quiet of night allowed them peace of mind, the torment of loss invaded their hearts with screaming agonies. Fleeting moments of faces and voices, fresh in their memories, haunted them, reminding them of their oath. Fate came and paid a visit to each of them, casting destinies upon them, shaping the days to come and what would happen.

The snorting and chuffing of the horses woke the men at daybreak. The overcast was gone, bringing a morning brighter to their destination. They rose and stretched, relieving the tension from their muscles and joints. Sloan looked at the cottage, thinking to himself that they had stayed their welcome and should leave immediately. They broke several loaves of bread apart, and shared the last of the dried meat and water in the skins, giving themselves a scant meal to start the day. 

They made their way through the plowed fields, stepping between the newly sown rows, until the wild grasses started, making sure not to damage the new crops starting to grow. In minutes they had made their way to the wooded inlet and walked to the end of the trees. Sloan turned to the same five men and gave them instructions to ride to the far end of Lismore with the horses and wait for them there. It was only a little over a mile across the water to Castle Stalker, making it easy to get back to them and tell them of their news.

The five wished the others a good voyage and made their way back to the paddock to get the horses. The fifteen cleared off the last birlinn and pushed it out into the water, then tied it off and brought out the next birlinn. It was tied to the stern and once again the process was done, until all six birlinns were tied and ready to sail around Eilean Musdile and north along the far side. They boarded and took their places, setting oars and untied the boats. They rowed out into the open waters and raised the sail, allowing them an easy trip up the coast. The oars were brought back in and stowed, letting the men relax and enjoy the day. Spray misted up and over the bow, cooling the faces of the men upfront, while the others basked in the warming sunshine of the rising sun.

Sloan stood at the prow, holding onto the ornately carved figurehead, as he kept his eyes open for any sails on the horizon. Blain manned the helm, guiding them north, keeping his eyes peeled on the coasts, hoping no one spotted their passing. As the rolling waves kept the birlinns rocking up and down, Sloan lost his footing and slipped onto the oilskin below his feet. The cry of pain from a woman, had Sloan reach down and pull the oilskin up. There underneath was Kyla, rubbing her thigh where Sloan had stepped on her. Sloan reached down and helped her up, looking at her with astonishment.

"What are ye doing here, Kyla?" Sloan asked her, as he held her steady. 

Kyla looked up at him and smiled happily, as she put her hands on his waist, the same sly, mischievous look she had at dinner, still in her eyes.

"I want tae be wi' ye, Sloan. I don't want tae live my life wi' my family. I don't want tae grow old and wither away an old maid. I fancy ye, Sloan. Ye make my heart aflutter when I look at ye." Kyla confessed, then wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, stunning Sloan even more.

The men chuckled at hearing what she said, making Sloan redden in the face with embarrassment. He glared at them angrily, but they only laughed louder, making him give up in frustration and laugh too.

"Kyla, ye say things tae me that reach my heart, but I told ye where we were going t'day. It's no right fer ye tae come wi' us, but I don't know what else tae do wi' ye. Ye can'ne be wi' me while I talk tae Laird Braedon, so ye'll ha'e tae wait wi' the men until I'm finished." Sloan told her, a saddened, pouting look coming to her face.

"It'll do ye no good tae gi' me a face like that. If yer tae be wi' me, ye better learn tae know yer place. Ye'll do as I tell ye tae do and obey me. I'm the Chief of these men and one day soon, God willing, I'll be their laird. If ye can't learn tae be and act like a lady should, ye can look fer another." Sloan told her blankly, letting her know her charms and wiles had no effect on him the way she hoped.

Kyla stopped sulking and looked at Sloan. She went through his words in her head and realized he wasn't turning her away, but letting her know that if she really wanted to be with him, she had to change and mature. A softer smile came to her and she bowed her head to him and let it touch his chest.

"I'll do as ye ask, Sloan. Whatever ye ask of me, I'll do it. I'll be yer lady and stand at yer side." her voice barely heard over the wind and waves.

Sloan heard what she said and held her closer to him. His mind wrenched between his still fresh feelings for Maglyn and now with a beautiful, young woman wanting to give herself to him entirely. He held her away gently and looked into her eyes.

"Sit here close tae me and we'll talk of this later. I must ha'e my head aboot me when I see his Lairdship." he said softly with a gentle smile, allowing her a glimpse of affection from him.

Kyla smiled happily and looked at Sloan with admiration. Sloan smiled wider and then saw the smirks and heard the snickers coming from the men.

"Och, away, the lot of ye's. Get back tae what we're yer supposed tae be doing" Sloan shot at them. "And ye, ye just sit and be good. No more of yer foolery." he said to Kyla and gave her look of consternation to let her know he meant it.

The jesting died off and the task at hand became clear again. Sloan looked ahead, chiding himself for breaking watch. All the time he had been looking at Kyla, another birlinn could have sailed right beside him and he wouldn't have noticed, until an arrow was through him. He looked to starboard and watched the entrance to Loch Creran go by, searching the coast for birlinns lurking to ambush them. It was less than three miles to Stalker, but any number of things could happen between the two points.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 33



Malcolm MacDougall stood in Dunollie, looking at the brilliant display lighting up the early morning sky. The sun broke the horizon and lit the morning in golden brightness, but the brightness on Lismore outshone it, making those in and around the castle take note of it. What bothered Malcolm about it, was the closeness to where the birlinns were hidden. 

After dressing, he made his way down the steep, stone steps to the hall and called the men together. Since the massacre of the Fraser's, the men held Malcolm in higher stead, his order to slaughter innocent people and lead in the killing, made them take note of his position with greater respect out of fear. Malcolm gathered with his men and made plans to set sail for Lismore and discover the cause of the display, as well as the state their birlinns were in.

Sloan stood with Kyla at his side, talking with Coll and Loman about the wrecking of the birlinn and the loss of the men on board. Sloan heard the names of the dead and showed a surprise on his face, realizing the blow to MacRae's leadership. He was hard-pressed not to show the vengeful joy at knowing who met that untimely end. Just as Coll was explaining how Griffin and he had rescued Eamon MacGregor off a small atoll just a mile away, Foster was carrying the crippled man down the stairs on his back. Eamon was learning to use the makeshift crutch and hobbled into the hall beside Foster up to the four. 

"Sloan Fraser, this is Eamon MacGregor. He's the fisherman from Seil, the one who found the bodies of three Douglas boys off his coast, in his nets. The ones Harlan Douglas claims ye murdered them somehoo." Foster made no small talk about what needed to be cleared up.

"Me and my men? He says we murdered them? The last we saw of the Douglas boys, was after we stole the birlinns. We were sailing tae oor hiding spot and they were going tae theirs. We knew they wouldn't follow us and we had no desire tae follow them. We knew of four more birlinns we could ha'e the next night. We were allies and had no quarrel wi' them, so why would they think we killed his boys? Wi'oot conferring wi' me, MacRae ordered the slaughter of my clan and me. We ne'er wanted tae join wi' them, not after the murder of my father, McCauley. We were going tae use their attack against them. When MacRae started the attack, it would leave Dunollie close tae defenceless and we were going to raid it and take it o'er. They wanted us tae ha'e Stalker, but I knew we d ne'er set foot on this land. We were tae be used as fodder fer their lines. They had no intention of letting us ha'e lands, let alone a castle, so we had planned on taking them fer oorselves."

Everyone listened to each and every word Sloan spoke. He himself knew that one wrong word could end his plans and worse, his life and those of the remaining Fraser's. He could see the understanding and acceptance of his story taking hold and led them along further.

"We've known the Stewart's tae be a good and fair clan and decided if we were tae be anywhere as a clan, it would be beside a clan we could respect and trust. This is why we came tae ye today, tae warn ye's. It was all we could do tae show ye oor intentions of being peaceful wi' yer clan and offer oor aid." 

Sloan saw the look of not only complete acceptance, but also a look of agreement in their course of action. Braedon went over the answers in his head, taking Eamon's story and weighing it against Sloan's. He couldn't put Sloan and his clan in complete connection with the death of the boys and that had him doubt the word of Harlan Douglas, that the Fraser's were the ones who had killed them. 

For all his words, Sloan's actions thus far, had backed him in truth and in his deliverance of them. Braedon felt more at ease with the new alliance with him and hoped he could help establish a place for them to live once the fighting was over. Would it ever be over? Braedon pondered the validity of that thought and could come to only one conclusion. MacRae and his army must be stopped at all costs. Even a meagre victory for him couldn't be afforded.

"I can'ne say one way or the other who did what tae who, but I know fer a fact that they boys had their feet tied. E'en wi' that, they should ha'e been able tae swim, or stay afloat, so I ha'e no idea why they drooned?" Eamon finally spoke out.

That made sense to everyone instantly, with Eamon's account. Why couldn't the boys swim if their hands were free? What could have stopped them from swimming to shore or letting the tide carry them there? Only Sloan and his men possibly knew what caused their deaths and they weren't saying anymore about the subject.

Ten miles away, twenty men led by Malcolm MacDougall, were sailing up to the dwindling flames on the headlands of Eilean Musdile. They pulled to the shore and two men jumped out and held the lines tight, as everyone else jumped out. They lay heavy stones over the lines to hold it in place, then joined the others and climbed the slope to the top. They could see the numerous tracks of horse and men, going up and down the slope and began to wonder why such an effort went into this.

Reaching the top, the heat was still intense enough to keep them back a dozen feet. They peered through the flames and could make out shapes in them. When a few moved, it became apparent to them what they were. The charred bodies were twisting, as the flames melted away flesh and muscle, casting fear into the men that they were somehow alive. An arm rose and a finger pointed at them, as the body contorted. When it started to sit up, the men were horrified and ran back down, falling and stumbling, screaming in panic back to the birlinn. They boarded with all haste and pushed off, wanting to be as far away as they could, from whatever evil that lay in the flames.

Malcolm stared back and watched, hoping beyond all fear, that the demons weren't coming after them. They sailed north along the coast to the inlet they had hid the birlinns in, instantly noticing all were gone. They sailed into the inlet and pulled up to the shore. It wasn't hard to see that someone had moved all the branches covering them. Malcolm walked up the sloping land and into the newly planted fields. Seeing the smoke rising from the cottage in the distance, he ordered his men to follow him there. He wanted answers from them.

Iain MacLean sailed the four miles across Loch Linnhe with his men, keeping their distance from the shores of Lismore's northern point. They could see all the birlinns pulled tight on the shore and no one in sight around them. They continued on for a mile and turned to port around the point at Appin and once out of view, dropped sail and pulled hard to port into the small cove, pulling into the shoreline and a stretch of sandy beach. Iain and several others went over the side and climbed to the top of the hill and scanned the point across the channel. 

"There, among they trees tae the left of those rocks. Horses, can'ne see hoo many, but quite a few of them. Stuart MacLean alerted them. 

Eyes were trained on the area, as they came down the side of the hill for a closer inspection. As best as they could make out, there were only a dozen or so men sitting under trees close to the horses. Iain led the men back to the birlinn to assess their situation. Those were definitely the birlinns they had stole and secreted away. Who the men were, they had no idea, but they out numbered them and the element of surprise was theirs. The men readied their weapons and had bows and arrows set along side them, as they made their way back across.

Two lookouts watched, as the MacLean birlinn had sailed past and the men disembarking and scouting along the coast. They pondered what was going on and sent word for Laird Braedon to come up and see what was happening. 

As Braedon stood with the lookouts, he saw the birlinn sailing across the channel and into the bay, running onto the beach at speed. Men could be seen running from it and towards the brush and trees. Braedon ran from the tower lookout and down the steep stairs to the hall. He came straight to Sloan and told him what he saw.

"Sloan, yer men are under attack. Tae yer boat at once." 

"My men? On Lismore?" Sloan said back in confusion.

"There's no time tae explain, Kyla, stay here wi' my people, ye'll be safe. Men!," Braedon roared out now, "Tae the birlinns. Bring arms and be ready fer battle!" 

Sloan stood in momentary stunned wonder at what was happening. It took only a second for him to realize what Braedon had said and his need to go. He too told Kyla to stay and had his men out of the castle and down the steep outer stairs, making for his birlinn. In less than five minutes, three birlinns and forty men were making the short distance to Lismore in all speed. Oars were plied through the waters in the fastest cadence of strokes, as the final mile was closed in all haste.

Sloan could see his men on horseback, high up in the hills, as their attackers made them hold their position with arrows pointed at them, while others were pushing birlinns into the water. 

Sloan and Braedon had their men prepare bows as they approached, ready to take as many out with them as they could, before they were over the sides and into hand to hand combat. 

The MacLean's saw the birlinns coming and shouted to the others in alarm. Iain called for a retreat and cut away the birlinns tied to his boat. His men made for the shore and splashed through the shallow water, before clamouring aboard and the sail quickly raised. The winds were against them and had to turn and row hard to get speed up and flee, as the birlinns closed in on them. Sloan broke off formation and went after the MacLean's birlinn, He knew he had the advantage of speed and situation. While MacLean's men rowed for speed, they weren't armed for attack and were easy marks. 

Iain saw Sloan at the prow and the row of archers with bows at the ready closing in on him. They made it past the point and caught the channel winds, filling their sail and giving them a quick boost in speed. They headed north quickly, cutting back on Sloan's angle of attack, making it more difficult for Sloan to attack him broadside. Sloan saw the manoeuvre, but was prepared for it. 

"Hard tae starboard, ram him amidships." he yelled out to Blair, who pushed the tiller over and put them on a direct course at the side of the attackers.

"Bowmen, up here and be ready tae fire when I tell ye's." Sloan told the first four men in front of him. "Hold fast tae something once ye let loose, then everyone, ha'e yer blades ready tae fight wi'. Swords are tae long tae draw and use. Blair, ram them and pull broadside tae them. Once we are, o'er the side and go fer necks." he yelled back to his men and fifteen Stewart's. 

The men drew their swords and laid them on the hull, then dirks and skeans were drawn and readied. Braedon saw what Sloan was doing and followed after him. He sent the other birlinn, with Coll and Loman on it, to secure the birlinns floating free and see to the men. He was almost a hundred yards back and was sailing into the calm area, losing speed. Quickly his men had the oars out and locked and with Braedon's signal, they started as one and rowed in perfect unison through the strokes. 

Sloan watched the distance close, as Blain kept them on a collision course. Iain could see the tactic and judged his chances. There was only one way to avoid Sloan's attack, but it would put them at risk. As Sloan's birlinn came at their starboard bow area, Iain ordered his brother Kyle, to throw their tiller over to starboard and go for Sloan's port bow.

Sloan wasn't expecting him to do that and found he was now at risk of being rammed. The bows came at each other and Blain threw his tiller over hard to starboard to avoid them. The archers were thrown off balance and were useless to use in attack. The port bows smashed into each other, the larch wood cracking from the blow, then they bounced off, throwing everyone about, as they started to pass. Sloan looked into Iain MacLean's eyes and shared a look of murderous vengeance pass between them, as the sails glanced off each other, bringing them out of the wind.

The birlinns passed too fast for any actions to be taken and Sloan turned to watch the MacLean's escape to safety. Off to his port side, Braedon was gaining speed and closing on MacLean's birlinn. Sloan yelled for Blain to come about and go after them.

The blow caused Iain to lose power and speed, allowing Braedon's birlinn to close quicker on them. Quickly they had the sail rigged and turned, the wind catching it again and bringing them back up to power. Iain knew he had only way place to go for safety and that was to Loch Leven and James MacRae. He made for the shortest route and hoped he could make it there, before Braedon made it to him. Without warning, two of his men fell forward with arrows deep in their backs. They were just passing Shuna Island and Castle Stalker, as the disheartening sight of another birlinn was coming at them, bringing a dread of failure to him.

"Men, keep down and put yer targes (shields) o'er yer backs. We ha'e tae make it tae Ballachulish or fight and we don'ne stand a chance on open water." 

Fourteen miles of open water lay ahead of them for safety, a hundred yards and closing behind, lay death. The men hunkered down and made themselves less of a target, as arrows kept coming at them. Kyle kept tacking back and forth, as he saw arrows being released, trying to avoid them and stay fast in the wind to keep ahead. The three birlinns were staying within firing range and Iain and his men sailed under a canopy of projectiles bombarding them. The passage to Loch Leven came into view and Iain breathed a sigh of relief, but the arrows continued to drop onto them, making the final moments of chase a do or die situation.

Kyle aimed the birlinn for dead centre of the channel and crouched in the hull of the stern. He knew without looking, that at least seven arrows were piercing the wood right behind him. Several were stuck in the sail as a visual reminder what was aimed at him. Just as he thought about them, an arrow stuck into the wood inches from his hand on the tiller, making him draw it back quickly under cover.

The passage was cleared and Kyle knew which way to go from there without looking. Sloan and Braedon, along with Foster leading the third birlinn, turned before the channel and headed back to Lismore.

"Noo ye know I"m telling ye the truth, Laird Braedon. Ye've seen wi' yer own eyes what they're like." Sloan yelled over to him.

Braedon looked at Sloan and then back at the fleeing birlinn, assuring him troubled times lay ahead. They sailed back towards Lismore, Foster breaking off and setting for Stalker, while the Stewart's were collecting the boats and readying them for sail back to Stalker and safety. In less than an hour, Sloan and Braedon were along side and the birlinns boarded with men, while the men on shore gathered the horses and prepared them for transport once again. When the last of the animals were aboard, they made their way across the short distance and into the Bay of Portnacroish. The birlinns were unloaded of men and animal and led to a stable made from sod blocks and a thatched roof. The horses were packed into the small building and fed, while the other birlinns were moored along the beach, at the delta of the small river. 

Sloan and his men stood on the small eilean that Stalker rested upon. Surrounded by water at high tide and boggy ground when it was out, the castle had natural defences against attack. Unknown to Braedon, Sloan stood and looked at his chances of taking Stalker as they planned and saw it had faults, realizing it would have left them vulnerable and without defence. 

Kyla ran from the castle and down the steps to Sloan, hugging him tightly, as Sloan approached. Braedon gave him a small smirk, seeing the attention lavished on him. In his own heart, he wished that to be Arabella coming to him.

No matter how she greeted him, he had to warn her and the others of what he knew from Sloan and the events that just transpired. He entered his castle and gathered his men to him. Plans were needed to prepare and defend against any reprisals from the MacLean's and MacRae's. Sloan and his men joined him in the hall and listened to how he led his men. Once his men knew their tasks, Braedon called Sloan aside.

"I need ye tae sail wi' me tae Tioram and let the MacDonald's know what's happening. We'll leave in the morning and be there by mid day. Do ye know the MacDonald's?" 

"No, I've ne'er been on the other side of Linnhe." 

"Lady Arabella MacDonald, is Chieftess at Tioram. Her brother, Grayson, rules at Camus and Duntulm." 

"I've heard their names mentioned before, by the others when they talked." Sloan told him, relaying anything he knew.

"What do ye know of them, Sloan?" Braedon asked, in hopes Sloan knew some vital information.

"I heard Andrew MacDougall say he wanted tae ha'e his way wi' Arabella, once they took Tioram. From the way he talked aboot her, I felt he knew her somehoo. But it's no something worth thinking aboot noo, he's dead." Sloan divulged.

"Aye and a damned good thing he is tae. If he touched her, I'd make his death very painful and slow." Braedon cursed, making his feelings for Arabella clear.

"Ye ha'e an affection fer her, do ye, Laird Braedon?" Sloan had to ask.

"I can'ne lie, Sloan. My heart belongs tae her, but I fear she may not want me anymore. My son caused the death of sixteen of her men and it's put me tae trial in her heart, I'm sure." Braedon confessed.

Sloan wasn't aware of the battle at Donan and what had transpired, but knew what had happened had caused a parting between them.

"Will she no fergive ye?" Sloan asked him, wondering if it would affect the way things are, if she did.

"After my son was killed, I left Tioram and I've no been back or had word wi' her. I fear I've wounded her heart and it can'ne be repaired." his thoughts bringing a sadness to his voice.

"Ye'll ne'er know, until ye go and face her again, Laird Braedon. She may ha'e changed her mind or she may ha'e not. One thing's fer certain, ye'll ne'er know until ye see her and ask her." Sloan told him, trying to encourage him to face his fears. 

'Aye, that's true, Sloan. One way or the other, it does'ne matter though. I ha'e tae warn them and face whatever Arabella feels in her heart fer me." Braedon said, while thinking about it.

Braedon smiled weakly and clapped Sloan on his shoulder to thank him, as he walked away and became lost in thought. Sloan went back to Kyla, who was clearly fretting over something.

"What is it, Kyla?" he asked, when he reached her.

"I'm worried aboot my family, Sloan. If they men were attacking tae take the birlinns, maybe they own the ones by my parents that ye foond?" Kyla told him, the worry clearly something she felt was real. "What if they went and saw the boats all gone?" Sloan thought about the validity of her worries and felt they had substance to warrant action.

"We'll sail there noo and check on them. We'll let them know what's happened and warn them tae be on guard fer any sails." Sloan told her and took her hand, as he led her over to Blain.

"Blain, roond up ten men and bring arms and targes. I want tae sail doon tae see Kyla's folks and make sure they're safe." 

Blain only needed to see the look in both Sloan and Kyla's faces to know there was a need to investigate. He knew the outcome if MacRae or any of his men found the birlinns they stole missing. Blain bowed his head and rounded up ten men and quietly left the hall and made their way to the birlinn. Sloan went to Foster and told him of their plans and to inform Braedon when he saw him. Foster wasn't aware of the need to sail there, but the look on Kyla's face, let him believe it was on her account they were going.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 33



Sloan made it to the birlinn and helped Kyla aboard. The oars were locked and rowing, before they even settled. Making it to open waters, the sail was raised and shortly the oars were in and the boat wended its way back down the coast and then over to Lismore. Then ten mile journey was made in quiet contemplation by everyone. Kyla held to Sloan tightly, her worries for her parents safety, something that held her rapt.

Blain steered the bow for the inlet and pulled in tight to the shore. Quickly the men were over the side and hauled it up further. Sloan and Kyla led the men up the slope and into the fields. The first thing Sloan noticed was the trampled crops and stopped everyone.

"We did'ne step on the crops, but there's clearly a row trampled in. Someone has been here. Draw swords and be prepared fer attack, men. Kyla, wait here until I call ye. I don'ne want ye in harm's way, should there be trouble ahead." Sloan told her, as he held her in place with his hand on her shoulder.

Kyla looked into his eyes, tears forming in hers, as she feared the worst. Kyla stood at the edge of the field, as Sloan and his men made their way towards the cottage. A low, smoke was coming from the hearth chimney and that gave Sloan and the others a slight bit of hope. They cleared the fields and came to the front of the cottage. 

The first thing they saw was Glendon's body lying face down on the ground. The blood staining the ground around him, told them he was dead. As they approached him, his organs were spilled from his body, the sound of flies thick around him. Sloan looked to the cottage and entered by himself. There on the table he had ate at the night before, was Wynda, naked and tied spreadeagled to the legs. Sloan stood transfixed at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away and knew he was damned to know this in every detail forever.

The men had obviously had their way with her and abused her in every orifice. The sight of their creamy, white seed mixed in abundance with the blood that poured from Wynda's body. Once they had finished, they cut away her breasts and her vagina was slit to her belly. Sloan knew the wounds would have been extremely painful, but not enough to kill her. They had left her to die in agony, the reason for her death a mystery to her.

Sloan left the sod-brick house and looked about for signs of Glendon's sons. He made his way to the stable and looked inside. A sigh of relief came, when he saw the building was empty. He went back out and Blain stopped him.

"What is it, Sloan?" 

"The sons, Glen, Blair and Sinclair. They're no here. Take some men and scout the area fer them. Be on guard fer whoe'er done this, they could still be aboot." Sloan told him and then took a couple of men and carried Glendon's body inside.

They laid him on the matting he and Wynda had slept on for years for a bed and then cut the bonds holding Wynda to the table. They carried her over and laid her beside her husband and quickly tossed a blanket over them, covering the worst of their gore.

They went out side and followed Sloan back to where Kyla was waiting with two men. Kyla watched as they came closer and knew something was wrong the moment she saw Sloan's eyes and the tragedy they held. Sloan was inwardly happy he never had to say the words to her, for her to know. She came into his arms and cried sorrowfully, her worst fears coming to pass.

Sloan held her and motioned for the men to keep an eye out along the coast for an attack. He started to slowly walk her back to her home, but kept his eyes sharp for signs of anyone about them. Coming up to the cottage, Sloan felt the hesitation in Kyla's step and knew she was afraid of what was inside.

"Ye don't ha'e tae look, Kyla. I don't think ye should see them the way they are. My heart is heavy wi' yer loss, but we hav'ne foond yer brothers yet. They're either hiding somewhere, or whoever did this, has them. I'm hoping beyond all prayer that they're safe." 

"Why, Sloan? Why did they kill them?" Kyla sobbed out, as she clutched his tunic.

"The birlinns that we foond belonged tae MacDougall and Douglas. It was Iain MacLean that was raiding my men earlier. It's my guess this is the work of Malcolm MacDougall. The same ones who slaughtered my people yesterday. They seen oor fire and came tae investigate, then foond their birlinns missing and came up here tae ask yer parents. I don'ne know what was said, but from what was done, they did'ne say anything aboot us. This was done oot of anger and fury." he told her forthrightly, not covering over his own deeds being the cause of their deaths.

"My brothers. We must find them, Sloan. Dear God, I pray they're alive." Kyla pled with him. 

Sloan could see the desperation in her eyes and the need for her to have something of her family left to her. 

Sloan turned at the sounds of men coming through the woods from the point, where they had built the pyre. Blain and the others were joined with the three brothers walking with them. Kyla saw them and ran from Sloan towards them. She flung herself at her older brother, Glen and wrapped herself tight to him. After a good moment of assuring herself he was real, she let go and hugged her two younger brothers and held their arms as they walked back. A smile broke through on Kyla's face, as she walked back to Sloan.

"Where did ye's go?" Sloan asked, as they approached.

"My Da, saw the men coming and told us tae run fer the pyre and hide there. Are my parents in the cottage?" Glen asked Sloan and saw the look of despair form in his eyes. He looked to Kyla and saw her face distort into grief and the tears spill abundantly.

"Glen, yer parents are dead. The men who came killed them. They're in the cottage, but I'll ask ye no tae look. They did tae them what they did tae my people. Fraser's, remember them as they were and do them prood tae think of them like that." Sloan told him, as he put a hand on Glen's shoulder. "There' s nothing that can be done fer them the noo, but we need tae get ye's tae safety. I know who did this and they'll no be happy till every Fraser is dead and they ha'e their birlinns back. Glen, I need ye tae go in and get anything ye need from inside. The best we can do right noo, is tae get ye and yer brothers and Kyla tae safety at Stalker." Sloan informed them of the trouble that was still present.

Glen looked to his siblings and saw the distress they were in and knew he had to be strong for them. He took a deep breath and entered inside, knowing the bodies of his parents lay there. At first, Glen only glanced at the bodies and looked about for anything they would need, but they were poor and had nothing of value. He stood looking at the blood around the table and only guessed at its origin. He turned and looked at the covered bodies and felt his spirit plummet into grief. As the tears flowed for his loss, he walked back out and looked at his kin. Kyla knew of one thing she wanted and hesitated, as she went to go in.

"What is it ye want, Kyla?" Sloan asked her.

"The necklace my mother is wearing. It's the only thing that I want, so I can remember her." she told him, with a pleading look in her eyes that he get it for her.

Sloan understood her objection to seeing her parents in the state they were in and entered. He pulled back the blanket enough that he could see the necklace. Tentatively he reached behind her neck and undid the small clasp, then took the small cross. He looked about as he stood and saw the pot on the fire. He regretted doing it the moment he looked inside. There, misshapen, but identifiable, were Wynda's breasts cooking in the water. He turned quickly and walked back out, going straight to Kyla. She took the necklace and held it tenderly in her fingers, looking at it with thoughts now part of a past.

"Tae the birlinn, noo. We ha'e tae get away from here, in case they return." Sloan said firmly, but softly, but wanting more to leave the horrors behind. 

Too many were still fresh in his mind and these two were adding to the cross for him to bear for his actions. Deep in his own thoughts, he was regretting killing the Douglas boys and instigating the deaths of everyone. In one instance of thought to seek power, he had killed over a hundred of his kin, including his wife and unborn child. Now he had been the cause of the deaths of Kyla's parents. The burden of his responsibility grew, as he realized they were now in his charge and care.

The group made it back and climbed aboard the birlinn. They pushed it off the gravelled shore and soon, it floated freely. Oars were set and the sail raised, as they made their way north to Castle Stalker. As Sloan looked across the channel, he found himself feeling trapped. He looked to Dunollie fading in the distance, then up to Loch Leven in the north, where MacRae and his men were, then across Loch Linnhe and wondered where the MacLean's had settled and lay in wait. In his heart, he hoped with all belief in God, that no further ails would befall him and his men. He looked down at Kyla holding on to him, then back to her three brothers, sitting in sorrowed lethargy, the thoughts of their dead parents beginning to weigh heavier on them.

Stalker came into view and Sloan hailed the lookout. Men came out of the castle and pulled the boat tight to the shore. Everyone disembarked and made it up the steep steps and into the dark hall. Braedon was sitting talking to Foster as they came in, then stopped, as he saw the new arrivals.

"Sloan, who ha'e ye brought wi' ye?" he asked him

Laird Braedon, these are Kyla s brothers. Their parents were just murdered and I know in my heart it was the MacDougall's. We left the bodies in the cottage and came here fer their safety. I must talk tae, Laird Braedon, in private." Sloan said with a seriousness that demanded urgency.

"Come, Sloan." Braedon told him, as he led the way up the stone steps to his chambers. Sitting by the fireplace, Braedon looked at Sloan, giving him the position to talk openly.

"Laird Braedon, their parents were tortured before they were killed. They defiled their mother in horrid ways and left her tae die in agony. She was tied spreadeagled on the table and I could see that all of them had their way with her first. Their seed was still dripping from her, along wi' her blood. When they finished, they cut off her bosoms and tossed them in the pot tae cook. I'm sure I'm the only one who knows that. They slit her from her cunny, tae her navel and then just left her tae die. Their father had his belly sliced open and his guts pulled oot. I'm sure he was alive long enough tae also see his cock severed from him as well. The MacDougall's are a Godless lot and ha'e no mercy in their souls. Led by a man like James MacRae, they're a vile scourge on the face of Scotland." Sloan let the horror sink in before he continued. 

He wanted Braedon to know what he was up against, that honour and valour among men was no longer the code for battle. Attacking innocent and defenceless people was how they conducted warfare and Braedon had to know it was at his doorstep. 

"Braedon, yer in the worst position right noo fer siege. The MacRae's are at Ballachulish tae the north, the MacDougall's and Douglas' tae the south and the MacLean's must be close by." 

"They're straight across Linnhe from us. My men spotted the birlinn coming across and sailing past yer men first." Braedon confirming Sloan's suspicions.

"Then ye know hoo bad a situation we're in. If we're tae make it tae Tioram, we're better sailing at night. They can spot us no matter which way we go aroond Lismore. We need tae be ready fer a surprise attack. Yer men know the area better than mine do, so we'll use mine, as well as some of yer's tae sail and fight wi' . Hoo far is Tioram from here?" 

"It's a good day's sail. Making it through the Sound of Mull will take skill under the co'er of darkness, Sloan, can yer men sail at night?" Braedon asked without realizing the obvious. Sloan laughed, as he saw Braedon coming to the realization of how he acquired his birlinns.

"We'll do alright then." Braedon laughed in mild embarrassment.

"Aye, we will. My horses will be here fer yer men tae use, while we sail tae Tioram. I ask that ye keep Kyla and her brothers safe fer me, while we're gone. I was'ne expecting them in my life, but noo they are and they're my kin, so I ha'e tae do what I can fer what's left of us." Sloan emphasized for effect and saw that Braedon understood.

"Aye, Sloan, my people will see that they're safe. I thank ye fer the use of yer horses. My men can use them tae attack in larger numbers, if they come o'er land at us. Sloan, I can'ne thank ye enough fer coming tae me and warning me of the dangers. I knew things had happened at Donan, wi' the MacDonnell's, but I did'ne know that I was on the list fer takeo'er by them as well. After seeing fer myself t' day, I don'ne need any more proof. My men are oot noo, gathering every man and arming them." 

"I ha'e pledged my fealty tae ye, Braedon. Ye know noo why I must seek revenge fer what's been done tae my clan. I can'ne do it wi' only my men and myself. If ye and the other clans are going tae be involved in this battle, then we need tae join wi' as many as we can and oot man them. I know enough of what they're planning, tae gi' us the best chance at defence and I know enough tricks, tae be of use in preparing fer it." Sloan told Braedon, assuring him with the look he gave him, that he was able to back his words.

"Good, Sloan, I want tae do whate'er I can tae stop this myself. Noo, let's eat and make ready tae sail fer sunset. We'll sail o'er tae Lismore and along the near coast. When we get closer tae Dunollie, we'll lower the sail and row, unless the sun is low enough that they can'ne see us from there. What do ye want tae do aboot Kyla's parents? I know ye can ne just leave them, so what are yer plans?" 

"We can stop, if we wait till it's dark and I'll take a few men and gather the hay and wood and burn the cottage doon. We'll be back in the birlinn and gone, before they can see the flames at Dunollie. I can'ne think of anything better tae do wi' the time we ha'e. Battle does'ne gi'e a man time, or the means, tae always pay the respects that should be shown tae his family and clan. I know. So do ye, Braedon." 

Sloan's words dove into Braedon's heart and swam with the sorted feelings that were there. He thought of the farewell tribute given by Arabella for his son and what Sloan had to do in the face of threat to himself and his men. He felt the selfishness of his thoughts and feelings and how he had to accept what he was given to send his son off and not what he wished for him. 

"Yer words are true, Sloan. So is yer heart. Ye show a love of yer clan and a strength of them. Yer loss has'ne crushed yer spirit, like my son's loss did tae me. I've spent weeks wallowing in my misery and shame and no owned up tae facing them. I thank ye fer showing me the strength tae do it. Come, let us eat and make plans fer later." Braedon told Sloan in open confidence of his feelings.

"Aye, my friend. Let's fill oor stomachs wi' food, drink and good blessings between us." Sloan told him with a fair smile and held his hand out to Braedon, share clasped wrists with him and shared a bonding moment. 

The hall was filled with the talk of the day's events and what it meant. Braedon saw Foster and Eamon fielding questions of what it all meant and called out to everyone, as he came into view on the stairs. He stopped with Sloan, so everyone could see them together and announced the need for defensive strategies put in place and men made ready for the possibility of attack. Foster knew already that he was in charge of the castle, while Braedon went to Tioram, but listened for any changes. Coll and Griffin looked at their father to see if they were included in any duties and when Braedon told them they would be at the helm of the birlinns that Sloan had brought, they wore an open look of enthusiasm on their faces. Loman knew he was staying with his father, but secretly wished he was going out on the water with them.

Kyla and her brothers looked to Sloan for direction on what was happening to them. He saw them wanting his attention and went to them. He stood before Kyla and took her hands and looked at the helplessness in her eyes. Sloan looked at her brothers and told them all the plans.

"Yer tae stay here, all of ye. Ye'll be safe and taken care of. I'll be sailing wi' some of my men and Laird Braedon's tae Tioram and the MacDonald's t'night. We ha'e tae warn them of the danger and get prepared fer battle. I don'ne know hoo long I'll be gone, but it won't be tae long. Glen, take care of yer sister and brothers. Do as Foster Stewart tells ye. They ha'e plans in place if there's an attack, so follow what yer told. Ye'll be kept safe from harm and ha'e I Laird Braedon's oath that ye are." Sloan could see the look of relief and a bit more at ease with their immediate future.

"Oor parents, Sloan, what's tae be done wi' them?" Glen asked him.

"When Laird Braedon and I sail fer Tioram, we'll stop and pay yer parents a service, like I did tae my clan. We won't ha'e much time, I'm sorry fer that, but ye can take heart that their souls will be going tae heaven. I can'ne do any more than that fer ye's, as much as I know they deserve better." Sloan's face showed clearly he regretted not being able to do more, but the reality had to be accepted.

They all reluctantly nodded and bowed their heads in remorseful thought, as they pondered the fate of their parents. Kyla stepped into Sloan and wrapped her arms around him. Sloan did the same to her and cradled her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair softly. He looked at the three boys and could see the look of desperation in their eyes. He realized they were now like him and had no where to call home, no where to be safe. His heart sank, knowing his thought for action had caused so much suffering. 

"Come, eat wi' the Stewart's and accept their grace. When this is settled, we'll look tae build ye a new cottage and farm yer lands again. God has cast his hand across this land and wants it cleared of evil. He has a plan fer us all and we ha'e tae accept what it is. There'll be great battles and many will die, but there'll be a peace fer us once it's o'er." 

"Sloan, I want tae join in the battle. I want tae kill the MacDougall's, fer what they done tae my parents." Glen told him with brave vengeance in his words.

"Can ye use a sword, Glen?" Sloan asked him, seeing the fierceness lurking in his heart, as his eyes cast out his vengeance from them. 

"No, I've ne'er swung one before, but I can shoot an arra long and true. It does'ne matter hoo I kill them, Sloan, I just want them dead." 

"Aye Glen, I know what yer heart feels. I feel it in my own blood as well. While I'm gone, I'll ha'e Blain show ye hoo tae shoot in battle. Come, let's join wi' the Stewart's and think of times ahead." Sloan told him, as he pulled Kyla to him. 

Sloan held Kyla to him close, as they made their way to the table of food prepared. The atmosphere in the castle remained mirthful, but the dread of battle hung thick over everyone.

As the sun began to set, it cast golden-orange hues to the waters and anything its rays set upon. Sloan walked with Kyla outside and sat by the edge of the water, feeling the fading warmth on them. Kyla lay her head on Sloan's shoulder, as he put his arm around her. Sloan could feel his heart warming to her being with him, while the memory of Maglyn still held it in check. 

"I ha'e tae leave soon, Kyla. Ye and ye brothers will be held in good stead here and that gi'es my heart a bit of peace tae know that." Sloan told her and placed a kiss on top of her head.

Kyla felt the show of affection and tilted her head up to him. Sloan looked into her dark, brown eyes and saw the look of love in them. His heart filled with it and brought his lips to hers for the first time. At the moment of contact, Kyla couldn't hold back and let her passion come through her lips to him. Sloan was taken aback by the intensity, but felt the pleasure consume him. With no other thoughts to stifle his own, he returned his feelings to her and felt her fill him inside.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 33



The call from Braedon looking for him, broke their embrace and Sloan sat looking into Kyla's eyes.

"I'll be back in a few days, Kyla. I must go noo, but I want tae come back tae ye." Kyla felt a joy fill her with his words, overshadowing her grief. She hugged him tight and smiled with a sense of hope in her future.

Sloan stood and helped her up and held her close to him. They looked in each other's eyes and felt their emotions pass between them. Braedon's call again, broke their growing connection and they came around the castle to where Braedon was waiting.

"Sloan, it's time tae sail. Kyla, we'll do oor best fer yer parents." Braedon told her with compassion.

Sloan left Kyla with her two younger brothers, as the birlinn was rowed up to the castle. The birlinn was filled already with twenty battle-ready men, as Braedon and Sloan jumped up on the side and took their positions. The birlinn pulled away from the edge and made its way into open waters, as the sail was raised. Kyla raised her hand and waved, along with her brothers and the ones on the shore joining them. Sloan looked to them and raised his sword in salute, Braedon doing the same. 

Kyla watched the birlinn grow smaller and fade away in the dimming light, as it made its way down the coast of Lismore.

Sloan looked at the inlet coming up and dreaded what he had to do once again.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 34



Argus finished telling about Sloan and Kyla and sat down again, The hall remained quiet, as the guests understood now why Braedon came to see Arabella again.

"Argus, noo that was a nice telling ye ga'e." Peter MacLeod spoke out finally.

"Aye, I was'ne expecting ye tae telling such a nice tale of love." Mary MacLeod agreed. 

Argus stood and smiled and took a short bow and passed the floor to Stuart again, before sitting down.

"Noo that ye's know why Braedon was coming tae Tioram, I think we need tae get back tae Therese and Heather going tae Donan and Garreth and Grayson coming up tae here." 

"Aye, Stuart. I think everyone is waiting tae know aboot the Hand-fasting ceremony. I know Tom and Deb are, aren't ye's? Taylor spoke out.

"Yes we are, Taylor. Come on Uncle Stuart, finish telling us about the ceremony." Deb replied, getting anxious to know what happened.

"Alright then, Argus, finish up tae that point and I'll take o'er. Do ye remember where I left off?" Stuart asked him and thought for a moment. "Aye, I've got it." he said and sipped a bit of water and cleared his throat.

************************

The birlinn pulled against the shore and men jumped out and held it fast, as Heather and Therese were helped out and on to firm ground again. Their friendship seemed immediate, as they walked hand in hand along the path and into the castle. Lady Anne was standing in the doorway of the keep, ready to welcome her daughter home again. She saw her daughter and a strange woman holding hands and wondered who she was. Heather came up to her mother and hugged her tightly, before she turned and introduced Therese to her.

"Mother, this is Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. Laird Garreth and Lady Therese ha'e agreed tae be hand-fasted. It's agreed tae be done at Dunvegan, fer safety sake and we'd like ye tae perform the ceremony fer us both, if Lady Julia MacLeod isn't able tae join her son and Therese." Heather blurted out joyously.

"That's wonderful news, Heather. And ye and Garreth are tae be joined as well, Lady Therese?" Anne asked her. 

"Yes, Lady Anne. I want to be with Garreth, but the battle that is coming, means we can not plan for a wedding. Heather told me of this ceremony that you do here and it sounds wonderful. I would be greatly honoured if you performed it for us." Therese told her, the feelings for Garreth clearly displayed in her words.

"I would be more than happy to do that fer ye, Therese. Please, call me Anne, we're all Ladies after all." Anne said with endearment to her.

"I shall, if you call me Therese." she smiled to her happily.

Therese was finding more reasons to smile as the day passed. The dire events of the last few days were vanishing and being replaced with her desired wishes, as Anne and Heather made her trials faced a thing of the past.

"Mother, we need tae ha'e dresses made fer the ceremony. It'll be in a week hence and we need to get started, if they're tae be done in time." Heather informed her.

"I'll ha'e the seamstresses bring bolts of material tae chose from. I'll make sure they're both ready in time. Do ye ha'e any idea what ye's are wanting? she asked them both.

"Aye, we sat and talked most of the night aboot them. I just hope we can find what we re looking fer." Heather told her, showing concern that their choices might have to be changed. 

"We need tae find something fer Therese tae wear the noo though. She's been in her dress fer days and it's in need of washing and mending. After we're finished oor tea, I want tae take her up tae my room and find her something tae wear." Heather said, holding Therese's hand in her own and showing the bond of friendship between them.

"Aye, that's a good idea, Heather. I was wondering why a lady would be looking in such a state as she's in." Anne responded with mirth, knowing why Therese looked the way she did.

"I must apologize for my appearance, I wasn't given a chance to pack anything." Therese quipped. "I have so many nice clothes back in France, but there is no time to sail there and back before the ceremony. I am indebted to you both for your kindness." Therese told them sincerely.

"No tae worry, Therese. Heather has some fine dresses ye can wear, or I may have something ye like." Anne told her, with a bit more sympathy for her condition.

"I am so very happy. I once thought I would never have any friends, but now I have Arabella and now you and Heather to call as such. I have never been treated to such a kindness as this." Therese told them and they could see the tears of joy welling in her eyes.

"Och aye, Therese, we're yer friends. More so, yer joining wi' a clan we hold dear tae us. Ye'll be like family tae us when ye do." Anne told her, offering her handkerchief to her. Therese dabbed away the tears and looked at Anne and Heather smiling joyfully. 

Heather and Anne both took a hand each and looked at Therese.

"Ye'll always be welcomed here as family, Therese." Heather told her.

Therese's tears started to flow again, hearing such heart-felt words expressed to her.

"And you will be welcomed at Trecesson, as the same." she told them, then hugged them both to her.

Once they let go, Heather led Therese to her room, taking their teas with them. Anne went in search of the seamstresses to send up to them and found the joy out-weighing the grief in her life. A smile played on her face, as she thought about performing the ceremony for Heather and Grayson, as well as Garreth and Therese. She liked the young, French lady immediately and was taken with her beauty and manners.

Garreth and Grayson felt the gravel shore scrape against the hull, as they landed in Dunvegan. Peadair was at the head of the seawall passage awaiting them and news of the battle. He looked at his older brother and Grayson, as they approached and was curious of their smiles and laughter.

"Peadair, ha'e the men clean the grounds and the castle, we'll be ha'ing two joinings." Garreth told him as he approached, then hugged him and held his arms tight as he announced his news.

"I'm joining wi' Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson and Grayson is joining wi' Lady Heather MacDonnell. They'll be coming here in a week hence, so this place not only has tae be clean, it has tae be festive fer the occasion, as well." 

"Ye found the right one, ha'e ye, Garreth? Ye know, I always thought ye'd end up wi' Arabella, but I can'ne wait tae see what one has taken yer heart. She must be something fer ye tae just meet her and want tae join wi' her so soon." Peadair prodded him, knowing she must be a prize to behold.

"Peadair, ye've no idea what a beauty she is. Hair as dark as midnight, eyes as green as Bella's, maybe greener, skin that looks like fine, white silk, lips like two juicy, red ....." Grayson started to describe in detail, but was cut off by Garreth.

"Ye just mind aboot Heather, she's got yer attention alright. Ye've been smitten wi' her looks and don't ye deny it. I seen ye at Tioram looking her up and doon and staring at her fine bosom. Shall we discuss how they look? I know I ga'e them a look or two. When ye's were oot dancing, it was'ne hard tae notice hoo nice they looked. I'll tell ye Peadair, Grayson's got his hands full wi' her." Garreth blurted out, catching Grayson with the truth of his attentions.

Peadair laughed loudly at both of them, as they were clearly in love with the women they were going to join with. He congratulated both of them and went into the castle to round up some men to start the clean up. 

Garreth and Grayson stood in the courtyard by the battlement wall and looked at each other. Once again, they were sharing another milestone in their lives together. Two decades had seen many changes in their lives from children to men. 

"God has blessed us my friend. Since we first met, we've been gi'en the joy of good friendship, learned and fought as young men side by side. We were there fer each other when we lost oor fathers, both of us taking o'er as chief of oor clans. We fought foes t'gether and kept a peace fer us. Noo, here we are joining wi' ladies and setting course fer the next part of oor lives. Yet, oot of it all, I could'ne ask fer a better man tae call my friend, than ye, Grayson." "Ye as well, Garreth. I've always felt more like a brother tae ye, than just a friend. I've known since we were just wee bastards, we'd go through life together and learn what tae do and what not tae. No matter what, I always knew ye'd be there tae watch my back and I would always watch o'er yer's. Noo, we'll ha'e oor own families tae raise and watch o'er as well. Hoo will ye and Therese manage between here and France? Ha'e ye thought of that yet?" Grayson asked, wondering in part how it would affect their friendship.

"I've gi'en it some pondering, Grayson and here's what I think. See hoo nice it is noo in the season? It's no much worse than this in the winter, where Therese lives. When the season grows cold here, I can sail tae France wi' Therese and live in Trecesson. She's told me of beautiful places we can go riding and sailing to. When it gets too cold fer ye's here, ye'll ha'e tae join us and enjoy some time wi' us. I know Therese is fond of ye already, Grayson. She talks of ye like the brother she ne'er had. Ye know the bond Arabella and her ha'e already and she's told me how fond of Heather she is. They're together planning all this now and I'm just as happy they are. I'll do what I can tae make it look presentable, but ye've got tae put yer own part in as well. I'm getting the pipers tae play something just fer the occasion. I know ye'll want Gregor tae play as well, so we'll let them do something together. I'll ha'e fresh juniper put aboot the place and some heath as well. Do ye know what the MacDonnell's plant is, Grayson?" Garreth finished his long-winded answer and drew a breath.

Grayson laughed at him, seeing how involved he was getting, despite his objections to doing it earlier.

"Aye, it's the same as mine. So lots of healh tae make us happy then." Grayson chuckled out. "I'll be wearing my best on the day, as well. Bella has a new kilt being made fer me, as well as some fancy new shoes she's told me aboot. I'll be wearing my new belt and sash that I just ha'e made fer my new sword. The blades arrived from Germany three weeks past. They make a fine blade of good steel. I know one thing ye better make sure ye ha'e plenty of, is yer drink. I ha' e five casks of oors and five of yer's should be more than enough tae gi' each man a good taste of each." Grayson told Garreth of his own news, but glossed it over in an attempt to diffuse it.

"Blades? Ye bought more than one? Are ye fighting wi' two blades noo?" Garreth asked, picking up on the one thing that interested him the most out of what was said.

"Aye, I had two made. There's no sense in keeping it a secret from ye anymore. I had one made fer ye, Garreth. I was waiting fer a good moment tae gi' it tae ye and I can'ne think of a better one, than yer joining wi' Therese. The tanners are making ye a belt and sash as well. I think ye'll look grand in yer finest, wi' yer new sword at yer side." Grayson told him, a broad smile stretching across his face.

"Ye had a blade made fer me? When did ye put the order oot tae ha'e them made?" Garreth asked his friend, a smile growing on his face.

"Do ye remember when we were in Glasgow? We sailed up the Clyde tae see aboot they cannon. Do ye remember? I left ye fer a wee bit and took care of a few things and I went tae see the cutler and ordered them then. A rider came wi' them the day before Therese arrived. I've had tae keep ye from finding oot aboot them since then. Come Garreth, I hope ye like it." Grayson told him, as he led Garreth into the castle.

*************************

Argus finished off and took a deep breath. He looked at everyone sitting contently listening to him and smiled.

"There ye's go. Noo ye know why Braedon was coming back tae see Arabella. I'll take a seat if ye don't mind. Telling the tale can wear a body oot. I'm sure Stuart has a fair bit tae say noo aboot the joining, so I'll gi' ye's o'er tae him. Tom and Deb, ye'll finally get tae hear aboot the ceremony and how it was done noo." Argus told the couple, who's faces turned up a few notches in excitement upon hearing they would know what happened.

Stuart looked at Argus smiling, happy that he had learned to turn down the drama in how he told the history of what happened. He was still feeling anxious to know what Argus had to tell him and wondered what part of history he was waiting for to finally divulge it. He smiled to himself and figured he would know soon enough, when Argus felt he had reached the right point in time.

Taylor MacLeod spoke out before Stuart could start and asked him about something he had heard in Argus' telling.

"Stuart, Argus was saying that Grayson had a sword made fer Garreth. Has that sword survived?" 

"Aye Taylor. It's oot in the hall. It's mounted behind Garreth's targe. My great-grandmother, Dame Flora, had the swords restored at the turn of the last century." Stuart told him, pointing to the area where they were hung.

Taylor excused himself and went into the hall to where Stuart had pointed. There between William's targe and Claymore and Rory Mor's targe and sword, was Garreth's sword behind his leather bound targe. He studied the filigree basket of the handle and the blade's craftsmanship, imagining Garreth wearing it on his day with Therese. Peter and Tom joined him shortly to admire the intricate weaving of metal to make the basket against the Claymore's shear might in steel.

"I think my arm would fall off trying to swing either of those swords in a battle." Taylor said to them.

"No kidding, look at the Claymore. It's huge. The thing must weigh a ton." Tom replied with his own opinion of them.

"I like how they weaved the metal like that and made the crest. They did amazing work. Too bad we can't have those to wear around today. I'd love to own a sword like that." Peter said, showing his admiration with exuberance. 

"Takes a big man to wield a sword like that. Their arms must have been massive, having to swing these around the way they did. The closest I come, is swinging my tennis racket and that wears me out." Taylor said, laughing heartily and causing the others to join in.

The trio re-entered the dining hall again and quietly made their way to their seats, as Stuart was telling of how Dunvegan had been decorated in tartans and crests, as well as flowers that were blooming. Guests were arriving and soon the castle would be alive with the joy and celebration of the occasion.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 35



The castle hadn't seen so much merriment in ages. There had never been a cause or reason till now and everyone was making sure it would be well met. Julia stepped onto Dunvegan land for the first time in almost ten years and felt an energy surge through her. For all that she was living in her homeland on Mull, Skye had been where she had felt herself come alive. A smile played on her lips as she climbed the long distance to the courtyard. 

Garreth and Peadair were there to greet her, as news came of her arrival. They greeted their mother with deep affection and led her into the hall to sit. A servant brought herbal tea for her and offered her a biscuit from a plate she was carrying. Julia took her tea and a biscuit and smiled at her, sharing a moment of remembrance of times past.

"It's good tae see ye here again, Lady Julia. It's been far too long since ye've been here." Rachel said and curtseyed.

"It's nice tae be here, Rachel. I've missed the castle and the people in it." Julia told her happily.

Rachel smiled and left for the kitchen again.

"My heart has'ne been happier, Mother. I ne'er knew love could feel like this. And now having ye here again, I'm o'ercome wi' so much joy." Garreth told her, his eyes welling up.

Julia looked at her son, seeing him make another step towards becoming a man and smiled from her heart.

"Garreth, my heart is happier than it has been in so many years, since yer father passed. Nothing could make as happy. I'm looking forward tae meeting Therese, she must be someone special tae ha'e ye joined so quickly." she pried at him, looking for more details 

"I knew in my heart the moment I saw her, she was the one fer me. She knew it tae. Tae show oor love, she has gi'en me her cross tae wear." to which Garreth took it out from under his tunic.

Julia took it in her hand delicately and looked at the embedded jewels, before turning her eyes up to his.

"What does she ha'e of yer's then?" Julia asked, worried she knew what he must have given her in exchange.

"She has the Luck of Dunvegan wi' her. We'll exchange them again during the ceremony." Garreth told her.

Peadair looked at his mother with worry, knowing she would be upset at what Garreth had done. 

"Garreth, no. Hoo could ye do such a thing? Do ye no remember yer father's last words before he died?" Julia told him, the distress of his actions clearly showing their effect on her.

"Mother don'ne worry. I trust her completely tae keep it safe wi' her, as she trusts me wi' her cross." he told his mother, hoping to dissuade her worries his life was in peril without the talisman.

"Garreth, my heart would rest easier knowing it was wi' ye, protecting ye." 

Garreth looked at Peadair, who shrugged his shoulders, causing Garreth to give him a look of despondency at his lack of help.

"The Almighty will watch o'er me, Mother. Don't let yerself get intae a state o'er this." Garreth told her, as he put his arm around her and held her to him, doing his best to convince her.

Julia's look never showed a relief, but she decided to let the issue go and not spoil the festivities. She took Garreth and Peadair's arms and walked with them into the gardens, now decorated with strips of MacLeod tartan and juniper sprigs tied to them. 

         ***************************************

Stuart stopped to confer with Argus and Tavish, making sure he didn't get too far ahead of the events. Tavish explained that Argus should finish up with Braedon and Sloan getting to Tioram and he would tell of Heather and Therese at Donan. 

Stuart nodded in agreement and said, "I'll tell of what happened at Tioram between Bella and Braedon and that should have everything up to date. I had no idea hoo complicated this was going tae be." and laughed along with the two other tellers at how it was turning out.

Argus stood again and announced he was going to finish with Sloan and Braedon coming to Tioram and then Tavish had something interesting to tell them, before Stuart came back to the ceremony.

         ****************************************

Braedon Stewart stood with Sloan Fraser at the prow of his birlinn, as they sailed along the eastern coast of Lismore. Sloan took a moment to look back towards the castle and thought of Kyla. He felt his heart accepting her, despite it still filled with the memories of Maglyn and their unborn child. He turned to look down the coast to where they were going and felt the sickening dread of having to deal with the slaughter of innocents and tending to their souls. He regretted his actions before he had even done them. 

He knew Kyla's parents deserved a decent and proper burial and ceremony, but turning his head to port, he caught sight of Dunollie far across the channel and knew they would attack if they knew he was seen. The objective was for Sloan and several men to go and make the cottage as flammable as they could and torch it. There was no time to dig graves or build pyres for them, so in Sloan's mind, he was doing no more than disposing of the bodies. The birlinn hugged the coast line, its shallow draft allowing it to traverse the shoreline and blend in as best they could to avoid detection.

The inlet was coming up and Sloan directed the Stewart at the helm to steer into it. The birlinn scraped up the graveled coast and men were over the side and pulling it up tight to the beach. 

"Do what ye can tae pay honour tae them Sloan, but do it wi' all haste. I don'ne need tae tell ye, we've been spotted already by MacDougall and he'll be preparing tae come across. I want tae be on oor way, Sloan, before we ha'e tae do battle wi' them."warned him.

"I'll no be long, Braedon. I only need enough time tae start a fire and make sure it burns the bodies tae ashes." Sloan assured him, as he and several men left the boat and started making their way towards the Fraser's home.

Sloan reached the cottage and found the stench coming from the cottage unbearable. He wrapped his sash around his mouth and nose and took a deep breath, before going inside. Flies were thick on the bodies and Sloan felt his stomach churning at the sight. He went to the hearth and found a smoldering ember and picked it up with a pot and carried it outside. He added some dry grasses and twigs and gently blew on it to bring the coals to life. In no time, a fire was burning and Sloan used it to light several make-shift torches. He took one and held his breath, as he walked back inside. He looked at the lifeless, decaying bodies of the couple who had welcomed him into their home and felt a great despair at seeing them. He piled loose straw around the bodies and touched the flame to it. 

The dry grass caught quickly, forcing the men back outside. Sloan and the others looked as the flames quickly engulf the interior, then Sloan signed the cross over the house and turned to go. They made it back to the birlinn, as the flames made it through the thatch roof and smoke billowed out. Braedon looked at Sloan and the men returning and then to the smoke. He spoke no words, but his face belied his grief at what had to be done. The men boarded and in moments, the scraping of the hull stopped as it made deep water and the oars were set and rowed. They made it to the point at Eilean Musdile, when one of the Stewart's shouted the alarm that two sails were coming across. 

The oars were worked hard to bring their speed up, the arms of the men straining hard as they pumped the oars. Malcolm's burning vengeance was driving him to avenge his brother's death and the reason for it lay in the birlinn ahead of him. Braedon's birlinn entered the Sound of Mull and caught the surge of breeze in the sail, increasing their speed and the distance between them. Sloan stood with Braedon watching the two enemy birlinns behind them.

"We ha'e the advantage, Sloan, they'll ne'er catch us. If they come close enough, I ha'e something fer them that they'll wish they had a stayed in their castle."

"What's that Laird Braedon?" Sloan asked him, wondering what was on board that he 

hadn't seen.

"What every man fears the most, Sloan, fire." Braedon divulged to him.

"But we don'ne ha'e any fire wi' us." Sloan said, stating the obvious.

"Ready the arras for fire men." Braedon commanded them.

Two men quickly went forward and retrieved a small cask and a small tarp. While one man opened the cask, the other collected arrows and laid them beside it. They quickly stripped rows off the tarp and wound them around the ends of the arrows, before dipping them in the oil. A small metal bowl with crumpled strips of oil-soaked tarp was lit using a flint to light it.

"Let them gain on us men. slow your oars and all the men in the back make ready yer arras." Braedon ordered them.

The strokes of the oars lessened and the attacking birlinns began closing the distance. When they were within striking distance, Braedon gave the order.

"Light the arras and shoot at the sails, men."

The oil soaked tips were lit and eight men quickly rose and took aim at both sails approaching. The arrows were released and streaks of black smoke trailed behind them, showing their trajectory. The arrows struck the sails centre mass and the flames quickly lept up the hemp fibres, bringing them into a raging blaze. The MacDougall's stopped rowing and cut the sails down to avoid having both birlinns engulfed in flames. The distance increased quickly between them, as Sloan and Braedon looked back at the attackers, using swords to push the burning sails overboard. Braedon knew they were safe now from attack and eased up on their speed to one that would allow the men to rest from rowing, while the breezes carried them towards Tioram.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 36



Therese stood in Heather's chambers, watching her as she was getting fitted for the dress she would wear for the Hand Fasting ceremony. They were both smiling happily, seeing how beautiful it would be when they were finished. Heather had chosen a rich, dark green silk for the bodice and inserts on the sleeves and body, with white linen for the body of the dress. In the sunlight, Heather's silhouetted outline showed through the sheer linen, allowing Therese to see her natural curves and femininity clearly. Heather literally glowed in radiance, partly from the sun, partly from within. 

Therese felt a warmth grow in herself, as she was admiring Heather's beauty and allowed her eyes to stray slowly over her friend's body, taking in every nuance of it. She felt no jealousy towards her, but more a desire to admire her, as a work of living art. She became unaware that Heather was now watching her look at her body and could see the look on her face. She felt a distinct rise in her temperature, as her body flushed in embarrassment at the attention she was getting from Therese. The seamstresses went about pinning and hemming the material, hands smoothing the fabric about her body, adding to the sensuous delights of the moment. 

Therese's eyes rose up Heather's body from her bare feet, along her silhouetted legs, clearly showing a young woman's fullness. At their juncture, Therese could see the faint outline of pubic hair growing there and the subtle curve of her belly. The flair of her hips gave way to a narrowed waist and then the gentle swell of her breasts pressed against the silken material, the outline of her nipples rising from it. Heather watched Therese's eyes closely, seeing where she was looking and could almost feel her gaze on her skin. 

Therese's eyes rose to meet Heather's and for a long moment, they connected deeply, Heather's eyes showing her feelings of being admired so intimately, while Therese's showed her enjoyment of her admiration of Heather. The smiles were tender expressions of a bond beyond a normal friendship and both felt their hearts and breaths quicken. The seamstresses finished pinning the material and began releasing it from Heather's body. A very distinct flush was present on Heather's body, as she was exposed and stepped out of the material. They left after bowing to begin sewing it, leaving Therese and Heather alone. Heather felt Therese's eyes scanning her, but didn't cover herself, allowing her to continue looking at her.

"You are very beautiful, Heather. Laird Grayson will be very happy on your first night and every night together, I am sure of it." Therese told her, her eyes still taking in Heather's naked form. 

"I do hope so, Therese. I want tae please him and ne'er be a disappointment tae him." Heather said, her hands expressing her concerns about herself, as they played over her body where she had been raped and abused, the cuts and scratches still faint.

"Heather, you are a very beautiful woman, he will be pleased with you, he loves you. He will never see them. I too worry if I will please Garreth. I hope that I am woman enough for him and can please him when he comes to me. I fear his rejection and displeasure more than anything." Therese told her, her eyes showing her worries, her hands expressing her concerns over her womanliness. "I feel as though I still look like a young girl at times and he will wish to have a woman."

"Therese, ye tae are beautiful. Garreth will no be disappointed in ye. Please believe me, it's true." Heather told her, holding her hands out to Therese.

Therese came forward and took her hands, once again looking up and down at Heather's naked body.

"I do believe you, Heather and I do thank you for your compliments. I have been admiring your body and how beautiful it is. You have been blessed with it. It reminds me of statues I have seen in Paris, it is so beautiful." Therese told her, her gaze falling upon the firm mounds.

Heather flushed again, her upper breasts turning redder, as well as her nipples growing in size. Therese noticed the change and gently placed her fingers over the area and felt the warmth from it. Heather sighed softly and slowly closed her eyes, as Therese's touch sent shivers through her. Therese's fingers traced down slowly and grazed around the hardening points, bringing a deeper moan of pleasure from Heather's throat. The fragrance of arousal began to permeate the air, reminding her of her own aroma, as Heather succumbed to the stimulation. Remembering how she felt when Moira had bathed her, Therese looked up from the sight of arousal into Heather's eyes, barely open in her bliss. 

In what seemed to be the right thing in her heart, Therese softly kissed Heather's lips and placed her hand over the warming mound of Heather's sex. Heather was stunned at first by the kiss and touch, but felt herself enjoying how she was being aroused. The softness of Therese's lips and the gentle touch of her fingers, caressing an area she was unaware of, began to make her melt into her. Her arms went around Therese's neck, holding on to her as she felt herself go weak in the knees at the sensations she was feeling. The kiss became deeper and more passionate, as Therese slowly massaged her moistening sex.

"Oh Therese, what are ye doing tae me?" Heather gasped, breaking from the kiss, feeling over-whelmed by what she was feeling.

"I want you to know the pleasure that I have discovered myself only recently. When you are with Grayson, teach him of this spot. It will bring you pleasures far beyond what you know." Therese whispered to her, as her fingers slowly and methodically circled the tiny orb. 

"Aye Therese, it feels so wonderful, I hav'ne felt anything like this. Is it right tae do though?" Heather questioned her.

"God gave us these, He wouldn't, if they were wrong to touch. I am only showing you what to do, nothing more." Therese assured her.

Heather nodded in agreement to what she heard and allowed the feelings to consume her.

Therese began kissing her once more and found a deeper response in return. It only took minutes more before Heather felt the onset of a grand experience. Her body swelled with sensations and in moments, felt herself engulfed in a euphoric glow. Her fingers gripped hard on Therese's shoulders, as she rode the crest of bliss and gasping into her first feelings of sexual pleasures.

Therese felt the discharge of fluid in her hand and felt the silky, smooth stickiness of it. She wondered briefly if she had done the same to Moira. Heather caught her breath and stared awestruck into Therese's eyes, stunned with what she had done to her.

"Teach your man, Heather. Let him know the joys it can bring you." Therese told her softly, then placed a loving kiss on each of her cheeks. 

"Oh Therese, I feel so weak, but so warm and tingly inside? I'm no going tae ferget this, but hoo do ye come tae know aboot such a thing?"

Therese started to giggle and explained what had happened when Moira had washed her at Dunluce Castle. Heather looked at Therese and could see the innocence in how it happened, but she was unsure of why it happened to her the way Therese had done it.

"Do women always kiss and touch so openly like that in France, Therese?" Heather asked her, curious to know how to react to what she had done to her.

"I'm not sure why I did it like that. I was feeling very affectionate towards you and it seemed so right to do. Have I offended you, Heather? Please tell me I haven't done this to you." Therese's face and voice were showing her worries she had done so.

"I don'ne feel offended, Therese, but I'm still a bit taken aback by it all. I was'ne expecting anything like that tae happen. It's not common practice fer women tae join together like that. I'm not sure what tae make of it all, except it was wonderful and I can'ne deny it." she told Therese, holding her hands in hers while she spoke, assuring Therese they were still close friends.

"I am so happy that is so. I would be so hurt if I thought I had done something wrong to

you. I am becoming very fond of you and hope we can be close, like Arabella is with me." Therese told her, looking into Heather's light, hazel eyes.

Heather lost any thoughts of embarrassment at being naked and held Therese to her in a loving embrace. Therese responded and felt the smooth skin of Heather's back and caressed it. 

"I'm quite fond of ye too, Therese. I feel we will be good friends through the years." she told her, as she lay her head briefly on Therese's shoulder.

They broke apart and Heather went about re-dressing. Therese helped her by combing out her hair and braiding it for her. The day passed with the two sharing thoughts and laughter about the days to come, as they wiled it away, growing closer as friends, their intimate bond now a closeness shared in their hearts.

        **************************************

Tavish looked at the stunned looks on everyone's face, as they absorbed the erotic interlude between the two, young women. It sounded like something from a modern erotic magazine, yet it happened over four hundred and twenty years ago. Taylor was the first to speak up and asked Tavish the obvious.

"How do you know that happened, Tavish?"

"I know, sounds like something oot of a sex story, doesn't it? Believe it or not, I read it in Heather's diary. It's in Armadale Castle, if anyone wants tae read it fer themselves. I think it's best I put ye's o'er tae Stuart and he can tell ye of something less racy." and laughed. 

"Aye Tav, that's a story that sets a heart tae racing fast." as Stuart laughed as well, before clearing his throat and calming everyone to let the tale go and consider it something to ponder later. When he had their attention, he started in where James MacRae was feeling the effects of his losses.

         **********************************

Thirty miles away in Ballachulish, a maddened James MacRae paced about his cottage, disturbed at the recent events and how they were slowly robbing him of any chance at attacking and controlling Donan and the other castles. He turned to his son, Blair, with a look of distress.

"Blair, we need tae see the Earl about this and get more men. We need tae hold his men coming north, until we can get ready again. The loss of all my leaders has made it impossible fer me tae lead an attack and succeed. After the raid on the Fraser's, I could see there was'ne any leadership that would stand up in battle. I need captains and I need ones that can lead men intae war." James told him, a desperate worry underlying his wrath.

"I can lead the Douglas' father. Malcolm MacDougall is proving his worth. He did'ne balk at massacring the Fraser's and his men followed his orders wi'oot question. Ye know Ian MacLean is a good captain, father, so what are yer worries fer?" his son questioned him.

"I'm worried that we'll ne'er set foot in Donan again, Blair. Wi' all that's gone wrong since we started, I can'ne help but feel forces are against us." James divulged his true worries to him. "I want tae make sure this goes as planned and noo it feels it's being taken away from me at every turn." his eyes clearly showing his doubts.

"Father, we'll take Donan and any other castle we want. Wi' the Earl's backing and the English troops and arms coming, there's no a clan that can stand against us." Blair tried to assure him further. 

"Yer confidence is outweighed by yer youth, Blair. I can have a thousand men or more, but wi'oot leaders, they're just sheep wandering in a field. We'll lose tae many men tae fast and lose everything, no matter hoo many men the Earl has or his cousin sends. I need men tae lead them intae battle. Ones who won't run from a bloody fight and keep their men fighting till the end. Killing innocent people in a massacre is one thing, Blair, fighting against armed men in battle is another." James told him, taking much of the bravado from Blair's thoughts with the reality of things.

Blair tried to counter his father's statement, but it was quickly apparent that the truth was spoken to him.

"Prepare tae ride tae Fort William, Blair. We'll see the Earl and put it tae him tae provide men, if we're tae take Donan back and then victory o'er the other clans." James told him, making his decision a final answer Blair couldn't rebut.

Blair exited his father's cottage and rounded up a party of men to ride to the castle. In less than half an hour, fifteen horses and riders were making their way along Loch Leven to the eastern end seven miles away and then north-west through the valleys of the mountain peaks towards Inverlochy. The imposing mass of Ben Nevis guided their route, as the rode through the foothills of its majesty. 

Without knowing their exact location, they stopped at the same spot two MacRae men had attacked Lady Therese more than a week earlier. James and several others dismounted and found relief urinating after the long ride and shortly, made their way to the gate and announced their arrival to see the Earl. James and Blair were welcomed in, while the rest of the men joined the Earl's men for food and drink and raucous talk of women and battle.

Braedon and Sloan stood at the bow, watching the breaking sun rise up the mountain peaks, until it shone brightly over the waters of Loch Moidart. They entered the loch slowly, wending around sandbars exposed by the low tide. Braedon felt a sinking in his heart, thoughts of Arabella and what her reaction to his leaving her might bring.

"What are yer worries, Braedon? Yer face is showing them fer all tae see." Sloan stated, upon noticing the look on Braedon's face.

"I worry about her scorning me, Sloan. My heart is still filled wi' her and her rejection of me would stab a fatal wound to it." he whispered to him in confidence.

"If her heart is still filled wi' feelings fer ye too, Braedon, she'll be mad, but she'll fergive ye. Gi' her time once ye speak, tae let her know hoo ye feel aboot her as well. If it's tae be, it'll be. My father told me that no that long ago." Sloan explained to him and saw a look of understanding and acceptance in his eyes.

The prow scraped the shore and Braedon gulped down the lump in his throat as he began to prepare mentally for the outcome his heart had to face. A small group of men came to the shore and helped pull the birlinn up, as Braedon and Sloan jumped down and made their way to the castle. Braedon felt less trepidation at going into battle, than having to look into Arabella's eyes again. They entered through the gate and Braedon raised his head to find Arabella standing in the doorway of the keep looking at him. His heart leapt at the sight of her and a thin sheen of sweat rose on his skin.

"Arabella, I must speak wi' ye. Great troubles lie ahead and I'm here tae warn ye of them." Braedon told her, hoping she would see him.

"Come inside and tell me of them. Who is this that you've brought wi' ye?" she asked, noticing Sloan coming to stand beside him.

"Arabella MacDonald, this is Sloan Fraser. He's the chief of what's left of his clan. We must talk and tell ye of what is happening noo and what's tae come shortly." Braedon explained to her and saw an acceptance in her eyes.

Arabella led the men into the hall and sat, as the principles of the clan joined her and 

made places for Braedon and Sloan to sit across from her. Braedon tried to study her eyes and see if he could see any signs there was still a chance to reclaim their love they once had. Their eyes met and locked and for the briefest of moments, a sparkle of hope shone through her eyes to his, granting him a peace he sorely needed.

"Arabella, I'll let Sloan explain what has happened tae his clan and then I'll tell of recent events that lead me tae be here noo." he told her, motioning to Sloan to begin.

"Lady Arabella, I'm Sloan Fraser, of the clan Fraser. Three days past, an army led by James MacRae attacked my people at the Falls of Lora, where we were camped and had made a settlement. Because my father refused tae join wi' them, he was murdered. When I refused as well, they came and slaughtered my people in a most brutal way. My unborn child was cut out of my Maglyn and had his head crushed by the foot of MacRae himself. We came tae Laird Braedon tae warn him of the dangers awaiting him, after we paid tribute to the slain. Before we had even finished discussing what had happened and what tae prepare for, MacDougall had slaughtered a family of Fraser's that gave aid tae us, Their offspring are at Castle Stalker now under Laird Braedon's protection. At the same time, a small group from Clan MacLean, led by Iain, attacked my men on the other end of Lismore, as they waited fer me tae talk tae Laird Braedon. We are here noo tae warn ye of the danger soon tae reach yer castle." Sloan told her, confirmation of the truth of what he said clearly showing on Braedon's face.

Arabella studied the eyes and faces and looked away, realizing the perils of war so close to her clan and castle. She turned her eyes to Braedon now and waited for what he had to say.

"Arabella, what Sloan says is truth. I saw it wi' my own eyes and chased the MacLean's intae Loch Leven, before we broke off. MacRae has enough men under him tae wage a battle against ye, as well as Donan. None of us are safe, while he has the Earl's backing and the English soldiers as well. Sloan has captured a great number of birlinns that were stolen by the enemy and are now ours tae use. He has pledged his clan tae aid us in any way they can and from what I've seen so far, we need as many men as we can rouse tae fight." Braedon explained and saw that Arabella accepted what he said.

"There is much to be done then, Braedon. Ha'e yer men rest and they'll ha'e food and drink brought from the kitchen. Ye and Sloan come wi' me and talk more of this in private." she told them.

Coll left and went to the boats to have the men disembark and come to the castle, while Arabella led Braedon and Sloan, along with Robert to her chambers. The four sat around the fire, burning low, but casting a warmth that was welcoming.

"Hoo many people were lost in the massacre, Sloan?" Arabella wondered.

"One hundred and twelve souls, Lady Arabella. They killed every man, woman and child they found. My only kin are those that were hunting wi' me the day it happened. There are twenty of us left and now three more are wi'oot parents, after yesterday's raid. Lismore still has smoke rising from the pyres we raised, tae send them off tae the Great Father above." he told her, the emotion straining in his voice.

Arabella heard it as well and knew it was a trying thing to deal with, let alone relive over and over again.

"Ye said yer wife and child were murdered as well?" she asked, remembering what he had said earlier.

"Aye, yer Ladyship. My Maglyn was ready tae bear oor first child, a boy I was tae find oot afterwards. MacRae slit her throat after her belly and crushed its head when it fell from her." Sloan told her, describing the cruelty and savagery of the attack.

Distress formed in Arabella's eyes knowing how hard it must be for Sloan to deal with this and still prepare for a battle and possible extinction of his clan entirely.

"My sympathies, Sloan. That's a terrible loss fer any man tae bear. If Laird Braedon has accepted yer alliance, I will accept it as well. Ye'll find strength wi' the MacDonald's of ClanRanald, Sloan. Now we must prepare fer an attack of any kind, from land or sea. Wi' more birlinns, we can wage a battle on water better than we could before. Are yer men good sailors, Sloan?" she asked.

"Aye, Lady Arabella, we've been land dwellers all oor lives, but we've practised wi' the birlinns we ha'e and are getting better. We know how tae sail well enough, but battle is another thing entirely." Sloan explained to her.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 36



"We ha'e many good men who can sail a birlinn intae battle. I'll ha'e mine join wi' yer's and show ye hoo. Hoo many birlinns did ye capture from them?" she asked, curious to know how their ability to wage a sea battle had improved.

"I ha'e six birlinn that Laird Braedon watches o'er and two still hidden on oor tiny island that we've used tae hide them on. I'll need tae sail wi' more men tae bring them tae Stalker, or should we bring them here?" Sloan asked, not sure of where they would be staging from.

"With the closeness of the enemy tae Stalker, it'll be safer bringing them here, don't ye agree, Braedon?" she replied, considering the events and the safety of all concerned.

"Aye Arabella. I'm completed surrounded by them and any movement will be seen by them. We fought off an attempt on oor way here last night. My fears are an attack by them at any time, so I ha'e my men standing ready in case of an attack and hope they can hold them off. Wi' the numbers Sloan has told me they ha'e, we stand short against them." Braedon told her, his fears of battle clear on his face.

"Not tae worry, Braedon. We ha'e more men coming that MacRae or the others don'ne know of. The MacDonnell's of Antrim ha'e come tae oor aid and are raising an army of their own tae join us. Sorley has pledged his support tae oor cause and we expect his men any day noo." she told him with a slight smile, giving a much needed bit of news to calm his fears.

"Hoo many men does he say he can raise fer battle?" he asked, hoping the numbers gave rise to an even fight.

"Sorley has said they are hoping tae raise an army of three hundred, as well as siege equipment and birlinns. Wi' their help, along wi' the MacLeod's and MacDonnell's, we'll be close tae a thousand strong. Wi' every man armed and ready fer battle, along wi' cannons, oor chances of beating them has improved. I ha'e every man roused tae come and fight and are being trained as we speak. We'll bring yer men here, Sloan and they can be trained in sea battle along wi' mine. The better we are at everything, the better oor chances of beating them. I owe a great deal of thanks tae ye, Sloan Fraser fer warning us. Ye and yer clan are welcome here tae be safe wi' us. We'll make a place fer ye's as comfortable as we can, under the circumstances." Arabella told him, as she took his hands in hers in friendship.

Braedon stood, hoping Arabella would thank him and accept him again, as well. He waited anxiously, looking at her and waiting for her to turn to him.

"Robert, take Sloan down and ha'e food and drink prepared for them. See tae making rooms fer his people tae stay in when they come." she told him.

"Lady Arabella, I ha'e twenty horses that Laird Braedon has stabled wi' his, but if I bring them here, will ye ha'e room fer them as well?" Sloan asked, as he rose to leave.

"Aye Sloan, no tae worry. We ha'e stables close by that can house them." she said smiling.

"One last request I must ask, but not fer myself, Lady Arabella." Sloan asked rather shyly.

"What is it, Sloan?" she responded, a curiosity growing in the way he spoke.

"It's Kyla Fraser I ask fer. It was her family on Lismore that was slaughtered and noo that they're homeless, I ask that she be gi'en a change of dress and a place tae bathe herself. She's only seventeen and noo faces a life on her own wi'oot a roof o'er her head." Sloan asked her, a show of compassion coming across clearly to her.

"Aye Sloan, she'll be gi'en that wi'oot question. The poor wee thing must be feeling horrible." Arabella told him, her hand gently resting on Sloan's arm.

Braedon's worries of Arabella scorning him started to ease at seeing her softer side come out.

"I'll be down later to see hoo things are coming along, bur fer noo, I'd like tae speak wi' Braedon in private." Arabella told both Robert and Sloan, her face still showing an expression of kindness.

The moment the two closed the door behind them, Arabella spun towards Braedon, her face changed completely to one of pain and anger.

"Why Braedon? Why did ye go and leave me? I offered my heart tae ye and wanted tae ease yer pain, but ye scorned me and ne'er sent any word. I've waited patiently fer ye, 

hoping tae hear word ye still wanted me. It's been weeks and no a word has been sent or spoken tae me. Do ye not favour me anymore, Braedon?" Arabella's face was a total mix of her emotions, but her fears of rejection stood out more in her eyes.

"Bella, hoo can I begin tae apologize tae ye? I hav'ne spoken because I feared ye despised me." Braedon blurted out. 

"Why would I despise ye, Braedon?" her face showing confusion in her upset state.

"I ga'e my allegiance tae aid ye and then ye lost sixteen men tae my son's foolishness. I feel I failed ye and left in shame and disgrace." he confessed, his soul feeling the weight lift and took a deep breath.

"Braedon, no. Ye hav'ne failed me. Wi'oot yer aid, we could'ne ha'e won the first battle. I felt... so did Grayson, that we let ye down. Grayson still suffers greatly in his heart aboot it, so do I. He made an oath tae safeguard yer boys and we failed ye. I could see the pain in yer eyes when ye left and ha'e felt it in my heart, that it was me that caused it." she told him, her face crumbling to tears by the time she finished speaking.

"Bella, my sweet Bella, no, ne'er. I hold my son, Cameron tae blame fer the losses. Once Coll explained hoo it happened, the losses were mine tae place the blame on. It's me that is tae be shamed by this, no ye, dear lady." Braedon told her, touching her at last.

Arabella felt his hands holding her arms gently and fell into him, wrapping her arms around his body and burying her face into his chest, her tears and sobs coming harder. Braedon lovingly wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, enjoying the closeness once again. They stood and held each other, feeling their guilt wash away and leave them whole once again. Arabella recovered herself and pulled her handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and dabbed at her eyes and nose, sniffing to clear her self. Braedon sniffled as well and wiped his eyes as they parted and looked into each other's eyes. Two smiles grew as they came to each other again, this time their lips joining and rejoining their love. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 37



Douglas Wallace sat behind his desk smiling, waiting for James MacRae to enter and bring him news the attack was ready to begin. The guard opened the door and James walked in, relieving Douglas of his smile when he saw the look on his face.

"Don't bring me news you have failed again, James." Douglas asked him, seeing the look of worry in his eyes.

"We must talk, Douglas." MacRae said, as he sat in the chair, that looked too frail to support his size and weight and groaned, as his weight was felt.

"I ha'e men, but all my captains ha'e been killed. I ha'e no one tae lead the men, except Blair and he's needed already fer a large force of men. Ye'll need tae send word tae the troops coming north tae stay where they are, till ye send word again tae march. I need captains, Douglas. I'd take a few of yer's, but there no better than what I ha'e, or I need more time tae train the men I ha'e and there not enough time tae do it right. We'll surely lose if we attack they way they are noo." James told him point blank.

"I understand, James. Word has reached me of the loss and I expected you to come sooner, actually. I have given this some thought and I have someone I can go and see for aid. I have already dispatched word to my brother's men to have them camp until I send word. We still need to keep the attack date as secretive as we can for it to work, so I'll leave the morrow for Edinburgh. I'm sure I can get help with captains for your men, so you get those men ready to fight and fight well, James. Everything depends on them giving their all for this. A failure in this is not acceptable. I won't risk losing what I have already invested in this campaign. It is my duty to the King to bring peace to these lands in his name." Douglas looked as masterful as he could to MacRae, speaking with as much manliness as he could muster.

"How soon will this take place? I can get the men ready, but I need tae ha'e them follow their commands. We're less than a month away from attack noo, and they'll need two weeks at the least, tae soldier the men intae battle. By then yer brother's men will ha'e arrived and the ship has set sail as well." James told him.

"I'll be back in less than a week's time. If all goes well, your captains will arrive shortly after, giving you more than enough time to put it all in order. I don't expect any problems on my part, as I'm calling in a favour done. The King is in Denmark with Princess Anne, so the chance of getting your captains seems very likely. How many men do you require?" Douglas thought to ask at last.

"I'll need no more than three. I can split a few men off and form another small band to protect against any surprise attacks when we land in Sunart. I ha'e feelings we'll be met wi' one, so I want tae be prepared for it. I was thinking of twenty men who would go ahead of the attack and set up a week before, tae scout the MacDonald's and what they're preparing fer. If they spot anything, they can warn us ahead of time. We can proceed as if we don't know aboot it and use their attack plans against them instead. We'll ha'e oor own counter tae theirs already." James told Douglas, feeling more in control again after the Earl's assurance he would have leaders that knew how to take and give orders, coming in time.

James and Douglas smiled at each other, both despising one another, yet admiring one another for the power they held and how they used it. Douglas went to a small side table behind his desk and poured two glasses of fine Scotch whisky, then offered one to James for a toast. They tipped their glasses to each other and Douglas offered a toast up.

"To the campaign, may we both get what we want and change the history of Scotland."

"Aye, here's tae it. May it bleed the lands dry of MacDonald blood and gi' rise tae the time of the MacRae's." James spoke, with determination and strength in every word said, 

As Douglas sipped at the pungent nectar, James quickly shot the liquid down his throat in a gulp. Douglas saw him look at the empty glass and offered him another. As he was pouring, James told him to keep going when he was stopping at a quarter of a glass. When he poured it to half, James happily sighed that was enough and drank a large mouthful. 

Colla returned from his quest for men to fight for him. His journey to the clans in Northern Ireland and the west of Scotland garnered him an army of three hundred plus men and six birlinns, along with four galleys. Every man was heavily armed and armoured, over a hundred with horses. The men were crammed into the birlinns, while the galleys held the horses. The heavily laden boats scraped deeply into the shore, as the men rowed hard to get them up as far as possible. Several jumped over the side and pulled on the bow lines, dragging it up further and holding it fast. 

Man and horse were soon out of the boats and enjoying solid ground again. Sorley was given word of their arrival and raced out the castle and onto the arched bridge. He shouted down a hail and smiled broadly, seeing the mass of men and animals covering the shoreline. Colla heard his brother and ran as fast as he could up the steep incline of steps to where he was. They hugged happily at seeing each other and turned to look at the shore.

"Colla, ye've done well, so ye ha'e. I could'ne ha'e asked fer better. I see the Donahue's ha'e come, so ha'e the O'Bannion's. Just the two alone would be enough tae fight wi', but ye've brought the Donnely's, the...,who's that there beside the Donnely's?" Sorley asked him, not recognizing the men.

"They're the Kennedy's. Father sent fer them. He said they owe him fer the lands and cattle he provided fer them last year. They came and asked fer his help and like Father, ga'e them the lands along the coast of the Firth of the Clyde and o'er a hundred head of cow, goat and sheep. So we ha'e their sworn loyalty fer those lands noo." Coll explained.

"Aye, that's Da's way. Make an ally and no an enemy."

"Aye, I don'ne see anything wrong wi' that, do ye?" Colla replied, knowing Sorley felt the same.

"No, it's good tae ha'e more allies than enemies, I don'ne ha'e tae keep looking o'er my shoulder all the time, I know someone has my back fer me." Sorley joked out his reason for liking it. 

"Aye, true enough." Colla laughed and then in a quick seriousness, "Let's hope we can ha'e the MacDonald's backs. If what we know is only half the story, then the rest of it does'ne read well at all. I ha'e clans watching the channel day and night for any movement of English ships of any size. Some ha'e members going inland tae look fer signs of troop movement. They'll try tae slow them down, but they're too small in numbers tae do any harm attacking them." Colla told his brother of all his efforts in aiding their kin. 

They both knew what was at stake in all of this and the ramifications that would spread outward if they lost. The entire stability of every clan was in jeopardy, The relative peace and trade would stop, wars and takeovers would spread from region to region, allies would become enemies, enemies coming together in a new common goal, This was a battle for the western Highlands and nothing less.

"Ye've done everything I could think of doing, Colla. Well done, my brother." Sorley said, while putting his arm over his brother's shoulder.

Sorley and Colla went into the castle and had the kitchen staff prepare food for the men and then the stable hands to tend to the horses. Looking out the window towards the coast of Scotland, the two brothers wondered what fate lay ahead and who would be across the channel from them in the months to come. Their once certain future became an instant pawn of indecision in a game of chess, only this game had no rules on how to play. Winning was the only point of it and how it was done, was left up to the minds of those in control to what they did to achieve it. The toll was tallied quietly in each of their minds, as they looked at the army of men below.

The sun was brightly shining over the grounds of Dunvegan, as the staff groomed the grounds to perfection, leaving nothing in sight to offend the eye. Garreth walked with his mother, looking at everything and seeing nothing they would want done differently. They smiled and laughed, something Garreth was happy to see his mother do. His visits to her castle were usually somber in tone and he knew she was still grieving for his father. As much as he admired her for her love for him, he was saddened at her loss of happiness in life and worried for her.

"It looks grand, Ma. Da would ha'e loved tae see this. I remember hoo he loved a celebration. It did'ne take much fer him tae throw one, did it?" he asked her, reminiscing of a joyous past, calling her how he did when he was a boy.

"No, it did'ne. When ye were just a bairn, before Peadair was born, he had a celebration fer three days because he wrestled a bull by the horns and bested it. Tae this day, I ha'e no idea why he was in that field in the first place. He told me he was sailing tae Rum, so it made no sense. But he came home wi' a horn from it, so he did, so what was I tae believe?" Julia said smiling and frowning a bit in confusion at what she said. 

Garreth reddened immediately as soon as he heard it. He'd heard tales of his father's exploits with women, other than his mother and he knew who his father was with that night. He had crept in through the bedroom window of a married woman and made love to her, while her husband was down in the hall. He crept out again and was running across the field, when he confronted a bull. The bull came at him and he took it by the horns and wrestled it to the ground and gored it with his dirk several times, then slit its throat. He sliced off one of the horns and took it with him. Hearing his mother tell her side of things, made it clear the tales were true. He shrugged his shoulders when she turned to him and feigned ignorance of it, but she took notice of how he avoided looking into her eyes. They came to the area where they would be joined and Garreth turned to his mother.

"Ma, I wish wi' all my heart fer ye tae join Therese and I in Hand Fasting. Lady Anne MacDonnell is joining Grayson and Heather and it would honour Therese and I if ye performed the ceremony fer us." Garreth asked her, holding her hand in his.

"Och Garreth, aye. It's my honour tae do this fer ye, my son. I ha'e tae think noo on one I know and hoo it goes. I hav'ne thought on it in ages. Oh Garreth, I can'ne wait tae meet Therese. Everyone who's met her says she's a perfect lady. I could'ne be happier fer ye, son." Julia told him.

"Aye, she is. Ye'll love her like a daughter. From what she's told me, she was raised by her aunt and step-father, after her father was murdered when she was six. Her mother died giving birth to her, so she never knew her. Less than two years past, her step-parents were murdered by a man posing as a relative. He was trying to take the estate and lands by means of forged papers and planned on murdering her. She seen him hanged fer his crimes and was made a Lady by the King of France at the same time. That was just months ago and so much more has happened, I wouldn't know where to begin." Garreth blurted out, not really thinking of what he was saying.

"Oh Garreth, the poor child. She's been through so much pain and sorrow. And there's more that she's gone through as well?" Julia's concern clearly showing for Therese.

"Aye, Ye've no idea hoo much has happened. It'll take a week at least tae tell ye everything that's happened tae her and me as well. I very nearly died not more than two weeks past. I was hit wi' an arrow in my leg and lost so much blood, God was starting tae call fer me. Bella took care of me, Ma. She brought me back from death's door and made me well again." he told her, seeing the shock crossing her face.

"Oh Garreth, I know it's because ye did'ne ha'e the Luck of Dunvegan tae protect ye. Ye know yer guarded under its blessing. Its powers are magical, blessed by the fairy queen yer ancestor Malcolm saved. Swear ye'll ne'er take it off again, once Therese gi's it back tae ye." Julia pled.

"Aye, I will, I swear it, Ma." Garreth said as truthfully as he could, before smiling at her happily.

Julia couldn't help but smile as well and hugged her son closely to her. Garreth enjoyed that maternal bond he had with his mother and hugged her tightly in return. The two were oblivious to the dozens of workers around them, busily preparing things for the events in less than a week's time, who never looked at them directly, but smiled happily all the same, knowing what was happening.

***************************

Stuart stopped the story there and excused himself, making a hurried exit. It didn't take much for everyone to know why and Tavish chuckled and stood up.

"Do ye want tae wait till Stuart gets back, or shall I tell of Bella and Braedon a bit more?" The guests were ready for more of the telling and it was unanimous among them.

"It's not some more of that smut is it?" Mary piped out, sounding strict, and then smiled, "Now if ye ha'e something wi' Garreth and Therese, then I'm all ears." to which laughter and hoots came from the other women in agreement.

Tavish howled out as well and then slyly told them he did have a few tales of their exploits, but Stuart knew more. If they were so ready for some hot, steamy sex, he was ready to tell them of Bella's penchant for make up sex with Braedon. One thing he was glad he had never done, was write down what happened between the sheets in the Bed of Life. Knowing so many intimate secrets of his ancestors and those of Stuart, made him wonder what really went on that was never written about.

"If it's a sordid tale ye's want, Bella was just as bad aboot writing down things that happened. Seems like make-up sex has been going on fer awhile, just as long as men realizing we weren't always right aboot things." Tavish admitted. 

The women clapped and praised Tavish, while the men sneered and booed him in jest. 

"So, ye want tae know what happened?" he prodded.

Yeses and ayes and two thumbs up came from the women, as they whooped and hollered for more steamy sex. 

Tavish snuck in a quiet word to Argus " I think they've had enough drink and after this, those poor men will ha'e tae do their best tonight." leaving both of them laughing harder and then hushing themselves.

"Okay, here ye's go, hot from the pages of Arabella Grace MacDonald's diary." Tavish told them and took a deep breath.

**************************

After the kiss that reunited them, Arabella and Braedon were driven to reunite physically as well. Making their way to her chambers, it was unspoken, but clearly understood that they weren't to be disturbed. Arabella wasted no time once the door was closed. She came to Braedon and started to undress him. She placed everything carefully at first, but she was becoming more impatient once he was only in his tunic. Braedon stopped her and spun her around, facing away from him. Quickly he worked at the laces holding Arabella inside. Once he reached the bottom, Arabella crossed her arms over her chest, taking the shoulder straps and lowered the dress. When it lay at her feet, she slowly turned and exposed herself to Braedon. His breath hitched audibly and she sighed inwardly in happiness she could make him do that. 

Her milky, white skin was layered faintly in freckles around her throat and upper breasts, but she was porcelain everywhere else. Braedon openly eyed her intently and Arabella gave him every opportunity to see what he wanted. As she looked lovingly into his eyes, she slowly lowered herself to her knees and asked him to take his tunic off. No sooner did he expose his pride to her and her hands were on his hips, and her lips made contact with his hardening flesh. Braedon's groan's assured her she had him at her will and before the tunic had reached the floor, her soft hands were stroking the girth to maximum size, as her mouth slowly engulfed him. Braedon cried out softly, as his hands grasped handfuls of her hair. Arabella slowly rocked her head back and forth, taking him from root to tip each time. She felt him starting to buckle under the intense feelings and she laughed, as she pushed him back onto the bed. Quickly she got up and jumped on him, straddling his waist. 

With a devious look in her eyes, she grasped the turgid flesh and tickled herself with it. Braedon felt her slick juices coating him and shuddered at the sensation. Watching him closely the whole time, she positioned it at her entrance and began to lower herself on to him. His eyes closed and a groan of immense pleasure escaped from his lips. Arabella rode him, taking him in deeply and felt a surge of intense pleasure herself. Her little, pearl button rubbed against him as she hit bottom and she rubbed it slowly, finding a greater thrill than she had known. In seconds, her hand was down there and rubbing the area briskly. Braedon lay spellbound, as he watched her quickly bring herself to orgasm. Unable to fathom what had taken place, he waited till Arabella's convulsions stopped before he moved. She caught her breath and then smiled broadly at him. 

"My God, Braedon, do ye see what ye do tae me? I'm soaking myself all over ye. Ye bring the Devil's lust outta me, so ye do." then bent forward and kissed him passionately. 

Braedon didn't need to know what had happened, but he did know it meant something pleasurable. With his own desires unmet, he pulled Arabella over, onto her back and knelt between her legs. For the first time in his life, he watched himself enter a woman completely and almost succumbed to the sensation right then and there. He kept control and was soon enjoying the incredible joys of her loving. In his heart he was in love and his head agreed wholeheartedly. 

As his climax approached, he kissed her hard, drawing in his breath through his nose and holding it, as his orgasm blasted itself from him and spattered the walls inside her. Arabella clutched at him and held him to her, driving him in as deep as he could go. She grunted at his mass filling her, then the heat spreading out inside her. In her heart, she wished to God that she was going to bear his child. She held him to her, as he caught his breath again. He rose up on his hands and looked incredulously at her. 

Bella, I look forward to many nights in our chambers together." then bent and kissed her softly on the lips. 

He kept kissing down over her chin and then her throat. Arabella held his hair and closed her eyes, as she enjoyed where this was going. Braedon kissed his way down between her voluptuous breasts and stopped. He held them in his hands and jiggled them back and forth.

"These are beauties, Bella." Braedon marvelled.

"They are, aren't they. I rather like the looks of them on me." she laughed. "Do ye know how tae please me with them?" she asked coyly.

"No, I just thought they were for bairns tae feed on." he replied honestly.

"True, they are for that, but there's a long time between bairns suckling, isn't there?" she rebutted, seeing a glimmer of thought going on. "They must be good for something else as well then, don't ye think?" 

Braedon looked at the breasts in his hands and wondered what he could possibly do to provide pleasure to her.

"What can I do tae them, Bella?" he asked. "Well the first thing ye can do is gi' them a wee kiss and let them know ye like them." she laughed. "Once ye've done that, slowly run yer tongue around my teat, making it good and wet. When it is, gently suckle on it, just like a bairn does and gi' it a soft squeeze as well. I'll tell ye when tae switch tae the other." she instructed him and Braedon eagerly complied and started kissing every speck of skin on both her breasts. He enjoyed hearing her little sighs, as he hit a particular area she liked.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 37



"Now Braedon, lick around it and then suckle me." she gasped out in pleasured breaths, as she offered her swelling nipple to him.

Braedon stuck his tongue out and circled it around and around, the surface becoming slick, the nipple growing more in size.

"Now my Love, take me in yer mouth." she panted softly.

Braedon let the turgid flesh slip between his lips and suckled as he thought a baby would. He knew he was doing it well, when Arabella started moaning louder and louder and then grasped his hair and passionately pulled at it. Her legs wrapped around his waist and squeezed him, as he lavished his attention to her plump morsel. Arabella began to groan louder, filling the chambers with echoing bliss. Her hips bucked and her legs clenched, as she rode herself through an orgasm again. Braedon felt her pulling his head away and stopped sucking. He looked at her, strained in the throes of ecstasy and looked at her in amazement. In all his life, he never knew a woman possessed such abilities.

"Bella, what just happened? Did I cause that tae happen?" he asked her, unsure of what was happening to her.

"It's pure pleasure, Braedon, that's the only way I can describe it tae ye. Something builds inside me here," and showed him with her hand, placing it over her mound, " and it just keeps feeling better and better, till my body can'ne take anymore pleasure and I feel so wonderful inside." she told him and then brought her hand up to him. Her fingers were soaking with fluids that she had expelled and she showed it to him. "This is what happens tae me. I release this, much like you do wi' yer seed. It feels much like yer's does." she told him and Braedon looked at the creamy liquid coating her fingers.

Braedon tentatively touched it and rubbed his fingers together. He was amazed at the texture and touched it again. 

"We'll ha'e many nights my darling man, tae learn how tae please one another." 

"Aye, we will, my sweet Bella." Their lips met and pressed together in sensual love, as the rest of the day was spent making love together.

It would be closer to nightfall, before the two emerged from her chambers together. A great many smiles were present on everyone's faces, acknowledging the awareness of what was going on behind closed doors. Sloan and his men, along with Braedon's, were talking in earnest about the impending war, as they approached.

"Laird Braedon, welcome back." Sloan said when he saw him coming and rose. 

All the men rose and waited for Arabella and Braedon to sit first, before they did.

"Father, Sloan has a plan we need tae use. We were just discussing where we should use it." Coll told him.

"What's the plan?" he replied with interest, looking from Coll to Sloan.

"I'll let Sloan explain it. It's his idea." Coll acknowledged and motioned for Sloan to start.

"My idea was this, Laird Braedon. In an effort tae slow their men down and lessen our losses, I suggest we dig pits wi' spikes and co'er them o'er wi' branches and grass. If they're charging us, they'll ne'er see the pits in time tae stop. Many dozens of men or more will fall and the rest sent intae confusion as tae where tae go. This gi'es oor men the chance tae attack them off-guard. Our clan has used this tactic with great results, so I know it will work." Sloan finished explaining and looked among them.

"That is a good tactic, Sloan. Any way tae lessen the loss of oor own men is a good plan. Where do ye ha'e in mind tae use it?" he asked.

"That's what we were discussing, Laird Braedon. None of us know the area, or where they might attack from." Sloan explained.

"I know where I'd attack from coming across land. Straight up from Loch Sunart. My guess is they'll land in Salen Bay and group there, before marching on us. If yer plan is tae work, along that route is best." Arabella told them.

"We'll ride out the morrow and look at the land, see what we can see." Braedon announced.

"My horses are at yer castle, Braedon. I'll need one of yer's Lady Arabella." Sloan asked.

"One will be provided, Sloan, if yer's hav'ne arrived when yer ready tae leave. Now, enough talk of war and battles and let us enjoy a night of food and drink among friends."Arabella told them.

Mugs and cups were raised in agreement, as smiles were made and laughter became the sound of the night.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 38



Early in the morning, Douglas Wallace set off in his carriage with an escort of guards for Edinburgh, remaining true to his word. About the same time, James MacRae was on his way to the MacLean, Douglas and MacDougall clans. He wanted his dreams of victory to become real and he too didn't want to lose what he had already invested in this campaign. Any objections aside, these clans needed to be trained hard and fast to be ready for the plans of attack. Taking the long way down the western shore of Lismore, avoiding as much attention from the Stewart's as possible, MacRae's birlinn ground to a stop at the entrance to Loch a Choire. Ian MacLean came to meet him and welcomed him into their camp.

"What brings ye here, James?" Ian asked after making James comfortable with a seat and a drink.

"The battle begins in less than a month and I need every clan member ready tae fight and sail. I'm appointing new captains fer the Douglas and MacDougall clans, The Earl is off tae see someone who can gi'e us three or four good leaders, so there's no worry of the men getting lost in battle and no doing what they're ordered tae do. I feel I can trust ye tae lead yer men, Ian, ye've done well and proved it. What I want ye tae do is start training in yer birlinns. I'll ha'e Blair stay wi' ye's and help train the men in sea combat. Ye can train against one another and learn tactics at sea. If we don't win on water, we won't win on land, so it's vital every man in a boat knows hoo tae sail and fight." MacRae explained to him, 

"I agree, James. I'll ha'e oor birlinns brought out of hiding and start training immediately. Where can we train wi'oot the Stewart's seeing us?" Ian asked him, looking straight across the loch to Castle Stalker less than five miles away.

"Sail at night and bring them tae Ballachulish, tae my loch. We can train wi'oot them seeing us there." James instructed him.

"Aye, that's a good place tae train. As long as we ha'e good winds tae sail wi', we'll be ready." Ian assured him.

"That takes a worry from me, Ian. Bring yer men and boats this night and ye can start at first light. I'm on my way noo, tae see MacDougall and ha'e him prepared. The Douglas' are my biggest worry. There's no a man among them that can lead. I ha'e men coming tae lead them and train wi' them fer battle. Wi' all my original leaders dead, including yer brother, I ha'e no choice but tae make sure we can win, whate'er way we can." MacRae told him, the tone of doubt settling in his words.

"There's still the problem wi' the Fraser's. They've joined wi' the Stewart's and ha'e their protection. They also ha'e three of oor birlinns. I can take some men and find some more before the attack, so that won't be a problem when the time comes, but I want that man dead, his uncle too." Ian's rage roiling to the surface at the thought of them.

"Ian, ye ha'e my authority tae kill them both. Them and any other Fraser's ye come across." James told him smiling, knowing how much Ian had wanted Sloan and Blain dead since his brother's death.

Ian's face took on a most vile look, as the thought of killing his arch enemies took hold in his mind.

"Ye'll ha'e yer chance, Ian, soon enough. Fer noo, concentrate on getting yer men ready tonight and bring yer birlinns tae me." James told him, shaking Ian's shoulder to break his train of thought.

Ian let the thought of killing Sloan and Blain leave his mind and nodded his head to James he understood. James bade him farewell and boarded his boat, heading south along the west coast of Loch Leven and keeping as far away from the Stewart's as he could. Once he passed the tip of Lismore, he sailed across and on to Dunollie. 

Word was spread that the MacRae birlinn was approaching and Malcolm prepared himself to greet him. MacRae came over the side and walked up to Malcolm, his hand extended in greeting.

"James, what brings ye tae Dunollie?" Malcolm asked him.

"We need tae talk of the battle. Come, let us sit and drink and I'll tell ye of my plans." MacRae told him and led the way into the hall.

Once they were seated and drink brought to them, James began to explain his plan.

"Malcolm, I need leaders fer the men. I know yer wanting tae lead, but ye don't ha'e the experience yet. I'm sending fer captains and the Earl is getting me them." he started off.

Malcolm heard of his failings and took offence at being told he wasn't good enough. He rose from his seat and glared at MacRae.

"These are my men and I'll be the one tae lead them, or they don't fight. Ye can'ne tell me I can't lead my men. I'm their chief and I say when and who we fight." his defiance clearly showing to MacRae's intentions.

"Malcolm, I knew ye'd feel this way, so I'll set it straight tae ye. Yer young, barely a man yet. Hoo many battles ha'e ye fought in?" James asked him.

"None, so far." Malcolm replied, still glaring back.

"And hoo many men ha'e ye killed in battle?" James asked next.

"Ye saw me kill all those Fraser's. Ye saw it wi' yer own eyes, James." Malcolm told him, feeling he had proved himself already.

"Those were unarmed people ye killed, Malcolm, no a man facing ye wi' his sword drawn, or arras tearing yer hair oot, it was so close. Stand up."James asked him.

"Why?" Malcolm mildly protested.

"I said, STAND UP!!!" MacRae roared at him, his face no more than a foot away from Malcolm's, his eyes quickly ferocious and glaring.

Malcolm stood weakly as ordered and backed away from the table. James rose as well and drew his sword.

"Draw yer blade, Malcolm." the order one he hesitantly obeyed.

James came around the table and squared off against him.

"Show me what kind of a fighter ye are." James told him, starting to move in a circle and shifting the sword in his hand.

Malcolm took a defensive position, knowing he had nothing on his opponent. James was six feet and a half feet and almost twice his weight, with years of experience fighting in battle. The truth was hitting home hard, that he wasn't the fighter he thought he was. James struck a back-handed blow to Malcolm's sword, letting him know he wanted to prove his point. In moments, Malcolm was fending off blow after blow of MacRae's sword. James drove him backwards, ending up with Malcolm against the table. In a move faster than Malcolm could react to, James disarmed him and pushed him backwards, hard onto the oak table. James twirled the sword and changed his grip, as he held Malcolm by the throat against the table. MacRae brought the sword down fast, driving it deeply into the hardwood surface inches from Malcolm's head. James let him go and looked at him, as Malcolm started to weep in fright, at the thought he could have been killed so easily.

"Yer no a fighter, Malcolm. Yer no a leader either. I want yer clan wi' me, but I need them led right. Ye can train wi' yer men and ye'll be able tae lead them as well, but only what I want ye tae do, is that understood?" James said without any compassion and saw it deflate the young MacDougall's ego.

Through tear-stained eyes, Malcolm looked at MacRae and submissively nodded his agreement. The men in the hall shifted uneasily, seeing the chief of their clan being diminished so drastically. Leaman MacDougall came towards James and stopped, letting James know he wasn't attacking and spoke out.

"Who's tae lead us, MacRae?"

"I ha'e trained men of rank coming from Edinburgh, at the Earl's request. They'll be arriving in a week's time and I want every man battle ready and plans gone o'er till ye know them by heart. When I come back wi' yer new captain, his word is command, is that clear?" James demanded and looked around the room at all the stunned faces. 

A general consent was heard from them, but James wasn't satisfied with the response.

"I said, IS THAT CLEAR?!!!" he roared at them, and got a more positive and aggressive response. "Ye ha'e a week tae be ready tae train and two weeks tae learn hoo tae be soldiers under him. Don'ne disappoint me. I ha'e tae go tae the Douglas' noo and do this again. I want them tae move tae here and ha'e ye's train together. Prepare fer them and make ready some food. They'll be here by nightfall, so get tae know one another and start knowing yer strengths and weaknesses. If ye's can see them, so can the captain and those bastard MacDonald's. I want an army that'll drive fear intae them. Blood will be spilled, some of it will be yer's, I just want all of theirs drained from them and no a MacDonald or MacLeod left alive. When this is o'er, there'll be lands and castles ye'll own and the Earl will grant ye charters tae them. Fail and ye lose everything ye ha'e noo. Make that yer reason tae train tae yer best." his orders and portends beings accepted by the men, including Malcolm. 

James clapped Malcolm over the shoulders and hugged him roughly to him.

"Don't take it tae heart so badly, son, yer young and full of eagerness tae prove yerself. This is battle and men die. Don't be one of them. Yer clan has lost too many already and they need ye tae carry on and lead them."

Malcolm took it better now and nodded in agreement and almost found a bit of a smile.

James pulled his sword from the table and re-sheathed it. Malcolm noticed how deep the blade had gone in and choked back the thought of what it would have been like had it been his head. James said nothing more and retreated out of the castle and down to the birlinn. His men pushed off and climbed in, taking their places at the oars and soon the boat was turned and the sail raised. The MacDougall's looked at the MacRae's and in one move, they saluted with their swords. James found a smile at the display and drew his sword and held it high to them. He was starting to feel more at ease with the changes happening and hoped he had less resistance with the Douglas'.

The birlinn made the two mile distance in quick time, the winds in their favour, making the sail an easy one. Scraping up on the shore, MacRae once again sought out the pseudo leader, this time MacKenzie. MacRae spotted him standing around the fire with several other men and called out to him. MacKenzie turned at the sound of his name shouted out and quickly made his way towards MacRae. MacRae diverted their direction away from the others and MacKenzie knew instantly that something serious was to be told to him.

"There's a change in command needed, MacKenzie. Ye can fight, but yer men need a better leader. I ha'e men coming from Edinburgh in a week's time tae take charge of ye's. These are trained captains that will lead ye and the MacDougall's, as well as an advance army. I want ye tae start training the men hard and get them ready. This captain wants soldiers tae lead, so make them all intae soldiers, MacKenzie. Has the boy's wound mended, yet?" MacRae thought to ask.

"He's healing, but he holds a hatred of ye, MacRae. He's spoken of killing ye, e'en in his sleep. It's like he's no right in the head." MacKenzie warned him.

"I'm no worried, MacKenzie. He may ha'e the madness tae want tae, but no the strength. If I ha'e tae, I'll gi' him another reminder tae know when tae listen tae sense." James chortled.

No sooner had MacRae finished speaking, when a shrieking cry was heard right behind him. In a flash, MacRae was spun around, his hand under his cloak. By the time Kirklan was within three feet of him, James was drawing his hand out and slicing it diagonally upward. Kirklan ran into the small blade and instantly slowed his attack, as the blade cut deeper and deeper. Kirklan gasped in his breath, as James brought the stroke all the way through. Blood soaked the snee's blade, as MacRae lowered it down again and held it under Kirklan's throat.

"Are ye out of yer head lad? I saw ye standing beside the tree when I came up tae the fire. I knew ye wanted tae kill me, many men do. That's the second warning tae listen tae someone when they tell ye something. The next time we meet and ye want tae try and kill me, I'll put this blade where I crossed ye and gut ye where ye stand. Are ye listening tae me now, Kirklan?" James asked him calmly, holding him up as he spoke to him.

Kirklan was gasping for breath once again, the shock and excruciating pain encompassing him completely. MacKenzie took hold of him and led him away to get stitched up once more. 

"MacKenzie, return tae me, we're no done yet." MacRae shouted after him.

MacKenzie took Kirklan to the old woman again and laid him down gently.

"I hate that man, Kenzie. I wish him dead." she said, as she looked at Kirklan with pure hatred coming from her eyes..

"He was foolish, Leigh, but alive. Mend him and see to it he does'ne do it again. He'll not get another warning." MacKenzie said no more and hurried back to MacRae.

"MacKenzie, ye'll need tae move the clan tae Dunollie. Malcolm is making a place fer ye's and preparing food. Yer tae be there by nightfall. The new captain's will arrive there and ye and the MacDougall's will train together. I'll be down tae see how things are going. Lands and a castle, a title as well MacKenzie, that's what that little arse in there is going tae get, if ye's do yer part and win the campaign. Let me see soldiers when I get back MacKenzie. Let me see if Harlan was true tae his word." then after speaking, he looked intensely at Mackenzie, his eye's boring into him, solidifying his rule in them, then turned and walked back to his birlinn. He smiled broadly as he heard Kirklan's cries ring out, as Leigh pierced his flesh again, in the first of many stitches to his chest. The other slash was a vivid pink now, having healed itself shut and now this one matching it in length, the seeping blood making a bolder statement on his flesh. The cries subsided before MacRae was out of earshot, Kirklan mercifully passing out from the stress of pain. 

         ************************************

Stuart came back in slower than when he left, a bigger smile and a little red in the cheeks as well. He made his way back to his seat and waited until Argus finished talking. 

"Thank ye, Argus. I could'ne wait until I finished where I was. Are we up tae date where ye are noo?"

"Aye. MacRae is back tae Ballachulish and the Earl's on his way tae Edinburgh, so it's... ye or Tavish noo?" Argus whispered back.

"Tavish is happy talking tae Mary, so I'll go on. I'm sure she's interested tae know about those diaries." to which they both stifled their laughter.

"I'd like tae ha'e another look at Bella's diary myself. It might just confirm what I came here tae tell ye aboot three days ago." Argus whispered again.

"Argus, this is really something very interesting, or very important that ye want tae share wi' me, isn't it?" Stuart asked seriously.

"It has a serious consequence tae it, is all I'll say fer noo. It's fairly near the time it happened, if I make my guess right."

"Noo ye've got tae tell me what it is, Argus. It might not be right fer the guests tae know aboot." Stuart asked worriedly.

Argus looked away and pondered what he knew for a moment, then shook his head.

"I don't think it'll change anyone's opinion after what they already know now, so it can wait. I just think ye'll find the end result very interesting though. That'll be a discussion that ye and I will ha'e in private."

Stuart's head swam with thoughts of what it could be and mockingly cursed Argus for not telling him.

"Stuart, are ye going tae get tae the ceremony part yet? I think oor young couple has waited long enough fer it, don't ye think?" Taylor called out.

"Aye, I was just saying tae Argus, I'd get tae that noo. Well, wi'oot further delay, let's get the ladies from Donan here and...wait...if I'm not mistaken, Tavish better get Arabella and Sorley sorted oot. As I remember, he left off at the good parts and did'ne finish. So let's gi' him a few minutes tae tidy that up and I promise I'll get tae what ye's are waiting fer. Tavish, if ye please."

"Thank ye, Stuart. Just so ye know, there's some more of those good parts tae come."

Tavish chuckled and gave a wink for everyone to see. Most of the women and some men, whooped their pleasure, at knowing some further tales of historical sexual exploits were still to come.

"Uncle Stuart, before Tavish starts, I wanted to ask something." Deb quickly asked.

"What's that, luv?" he replied.

"Did Therese have a diary as well? Tom and I were wondering if that's how you and Tavish know so many intimate things about everyone." she asked, the questions causing lights to go on in the other's minds.

Stuart could see that a barrage of questions was about to happen and stood quickly and held his hands up to them to stop.

"Please, before ye's get things all out of sorts wi' a million questions, let me just say this. Aye, Therese did write a diary, many in fact . Tavish and I were going through them after one of the visitors to the castle enquired about what was written in them. after seeing them in the display case at Chateau de Trecesson. Once we'd gone to France and read what was in Therese's, we were curious as tae what might be in Arabella's and Heather's as well. Seems a lot of the facts of our history as we knew it, changed after what we read in all the diaries. It's interesting that all this happened just four months ago. Do ye remember, Taylor? We had just booked our rail passes the day before ye called."

"That's right, Stuart. I remember you mentioning your trip. I was on my way to Italy around that time too." Taylor confirmed.

"So after France and then down tae Armadale, Tavish and I spent quite a few days going through the pages of history, written from a different perspective, let's say. A lot of what the clans wrote about things, was exaggerated, or made up entirely in some cases. So Tavish and I had a crash course just recently in what happened." Stuart explained and the questioning faces eased, an intense Q and A period being avoided. 

"Are you a historian, Mr. Stewart, or did you have diaries as well?" Tom asked.

"Well, I was gi'en some news that had me check intae my clan history. As I told Stuart earlier, I ha'e some news tae tell him, and that's why I showed up the other night. But seeing as ye's were talking aboot the time in question, I thought I'd wait and see if oor stories were the same or not. So, like him, we'll wait until we get tae that part and see what's up wi' things. I know ye's will all find it quite interesting, because I sure do. I had'ne a clue, nor was there any question. Just something came up and I'm sure you'll all shake yer heads like I did." Argus told them and saw the looks on everyone's faces rise several notches in interest.

Before that bombshell created a commotion, Stuart quickly brought the attention and focus back to Tavish. As Tavish rose and used his hands to calm everyone, Stuart couldn't help but feel threatened somehow by the news Argus was waiting to expose. His mind played history in fast forward, searching for a clue as to what Argus' news could be about.

Tavish's voice filled the hall in resonance, as he went about finishing up.

             *****************************

Sorley had his men prepare for attack as he approached the castle. He knew from the last visit, that mistakes happen when tensions run high. When the tower guard waved, he knew any danger had passed and the men relaxed, as the sail was lowered and the momentum carried the wooden craft onto the shore. Happy faces were seen on the faces of both clans, as they melded into a mass of men greeting one another.

"Sorley, yer return is well-favoured, but we thought ye were raising more of an army than this?" Robert said to him, as they came to greet one another. 

Sorley laughed heartily, at hearing Robert's worries. "I ha'e a few more men, but their boats are just ootside of the loch waiting fer my signal. If ye'll send up two flaming arras, no more, no less, the men will sail in. We did'ne want tae ha'e ye's firing on us again, when ye saw the sails coming and thought ye were under attack. So ha'e yer guards fire two flamers intae the air t'gether, towards the sea and they'll come in." 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 38



Robert heard the news of more men and smiled broadly. He gave orders to a soldier to prepare two flaming arrows to be fired towards the direction of the sea and returned to Sorley.

"Ye've come at a grand time as well. Laird Grayson is joining wi' Lady Heather and Laird Garreth is joining wi' Lady Therese. They're tae be bound up at Dunvegan in less than a week's time. I know ye'll be welcomed tae attend. Wi' ha'e dire events as well. Laird Braedon Stewart arrived yesterday wi' news of what's happening o'er on Loch Linnhe. MacRae and his clans ha'e attacked innocent people and slaughtered them. We ha'e the leader of the clan, Sloan Fraser, wi' us and he's told us of MacRae's plans. He's come up wi' a good defence tactic we're going out the morrow tae see where tae use it." Robert informed Sorley, bringing him up to date on everything since he left over a week ago.

"Sloan Fraser? I've ne'er heard of him, but I know of Fraser's. Might be, we know a relative of theirs, I'll ha'e tae meet him and also offer my condolences on his loss. His entire clan ye said, Robert?" Sorley frowned sadly, as he opined on the thought of everyone he knew being slaughtered.

"Aye, his wife and unborn child, as well. And noo he has charge of three, young Fraser's left homeless and wi'oot parents, because of this. A distant relation of kin tae him, but Fraser's none the less. Their tale gets sadder, the more he tells of it. A birlinn has been sent back tae Stalker tae fetch them and bring them here. They're in great danger of being raided at any time by the MacDougall's and Douglas' tae the south, the MacLean's tae the west, across the loch and MacRae himself up in Ballachulish tae the north. He's well stocked wi' enough tae fight though. In a brilliant move, he's stolen three of the enemies boats, as well as ha'ing four of his own, making seven more birlinns tae command under us. They have twenty horse tae ride as well and they'll be brought o'er in the other birlinns. He only has twenty men left, but he and every man has pledged his life tae rid the land of MacRae and his followers." Robert could see how the news affected Sorley, reminding him of his own clan deaths.

"I truly wish tae meet this man, Robert, but fer noo, take me tae Lady Arabella and Laird Braedon. I ha'e a surprise fer them, that will truly bring a change in their hearts." he said 

smiling, as he looked past Robert's shoulder, to the sails making their way into the loch.

Robert turned to follow Sorley's gaze and his eyes went wide at the sight. The six birlinns were packed close with men and the four galleys were a mass of horse flesh. Swords were waved from both sides now and shouts and cheers rang out across the waters of Loch Moidart. The shore was laden with boats, as they pulled in one after the other. 

Hundreds and hundreds of men and animals were unloaded and the entire eilean became 

a mass of movement. Horses were led off towards the fields and kept in check from wandering, while supplies were unloaded and eventually, whiskey.

Arabella and Braedon appeared from the castle gate and made their way towards Sorley. Smiles were as big and wide as they could be and Arabella hastened herself with each step until she was almost running to Sorley.

"My dear friend, ye've no idea how grateful we are fer yer aid. I was hoping fer a hundred men on my strongest wishes, but this is an army untae itself. Hoo many ha'e ye brung?" Arabella asked,before her hands had even made contact with Sorley's.

"There's o'er three hundred men and a hundred horse. Do ye see who came wi' us? O'er there by the second birlinn. Dressed in black and green." Sorley pointed out.

Arabella strained to look to where Sorely had mentioned. There among the men, was a man who Arabella held an interest in. After Braedon, Donald "Donnie" Donahue was someone Arabella felt worthy of her attention. Having traded with him for years, she knew him to be a honest man and one she could rely on. Seeing him here had her heart beating faster and a smile play over her lips. Sorley shouted out to him to get his attention and waved him over. Braedon was unaware of Arabella's feelings for Donnie, but stood a little closer to her, as he approached.

"Bella!!" he called out, smiling at her. He came to her and Braedon was a bit taken back by Arabella's greeting.

"Donnie, it's so good tae see ye again. I can'ne thank ye enough fer coming tae aid in oor cause." she said taking his hands and then kissing each of his cheeks and then hugged him.

Braedon felt unsure of things between them and stood waiting. Arabella finished greeting him and then turned back to Braedon.

"Donald Donahue of Donegal, I'd like ye tae meet Laird Braedon Stewart, Chief of the Stewart's of Appin. Braedon, this is a dear friend and trading partner of mine, Donnie." she said smiling.

Braedon extended his hand and was took well by Donnie. They exchanged looks of acknowledgement, but searched for meanings to each other's connection to Arabella.

"Come, let us go intae the castle and celebrate this joyous occasion. Braedon, if you please." she announced.

Braedon didn't respond at first, so she touched his arm gently. Braedon turned and saw that she was holding her hand for him to take and escort her. He quickly held his arm for her and placed his hand over hers, letting anyone know that he was intimately acquainted with her. Smiling with the assurance of his heart's interest, Braedon took Arabella and led the entourage into the castle, then into the keep. 

"Bring drink and food in plenty. Call for Gregor and anyone who can play a tune, tis a time fer celebrating." Arabella called out to the servants in the kitchen.

Quickly the sounds of cooking were heard and kegs and barrels were tapped and pouring. Laughter and merriment were abound in Tioram and the surrounding lands. Fires roared and Celtic tunes were heard echoing from the hills, as hundreds of men feasted and drank their fill with the hundreds of MacDonald's. The air was alive with the smells of roasting ox and pig, along with vegetables, potatoes and bread. 

Behind every smile and laugh, lay the honest truth in their hearts, that this might be the last celebration of life they enjoy. Games and singing, dancing and storytelling were done in abundance, well into the night. The next day would find a quick return to the situation at hand and a need for readiness, the order of the day.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 39



Stuart didn't want the guests to dwell on the words of Argus and quickly made his way into his part of things again. Tom noticed the faint look of worry in his eyes and wondered what Argus knew that could make him feel like that. He whispered his thoughts to Deb, who nodded her agreement to his thoughts. Stuart started to speak and cleared his throat of his nervousness, before starting in.

        *********************************

The birlinn carrying Heather and her mother, along with Therese and guests, sailed out of Loch Alsh and up the north coast of Skye. The morning light was trying hard to break through the mist rising from the water, making it hard to see obstacles in front of them. Glenn knew the route they were taking, having sailed it numerous times in the past. He kept the coast of Raasay to his port side, watching for the channel between it and Rona. 

As the craggy mountain ridge curved away, he sailed towards the tip and passed the two small outcroppings of rock jutting from the water. Fisherman in small boats were tending their nets off the coast of Rona, the teems of fish swarming to the rich feeding grounds. 

By mid-morning, they had sailed around the tip and headed for Loch Dunvegan. The mist had broke and clear skies prevailed for the day, as the birlinn touched the shore. The castle looked spectacular after all the preparations and the grounds were truly immaculate. 

Garreth and Grayson, along with Julia and Peadair, were there to greet them and help them alight on MacLeod land for the first time. The young women waved enthusiastically at their beaus, as Anne recognized Julia and shared a softer wave and a warm smile. The moment each man held his woman, they were embraced together and kissed with all the longing each had in their heart. Julia and Anne looked at the couples and smiled at them, then turned and walked together up the long, steep passage, sharing pleasantries and assisting each other up the climb, knowing introductions could wait. Peadair stayed with Glenn at the boat and made sure everything was unloaded and directions given to where each item was to be taken. Once the servants had cleared everything, Peadair took a moment to ask Glenn how he was holding up now.

"I'm better wi' it Peadair. The tribute Grayson paid tae my family and kin has brought a peace tae oor hearts. His idea of a village has everyone making plans fer cottages and buildings. I've had a chance noo tae deal wi' it and came tae terms wi' what's happened. The only thing I ask from God, is tae see James MacRae and his lot serve eternity in hell fer what they've done. I'm willing tae send them there by my own hand." Glenn told him, the truth of his words clearly showing in his eyes.

Peadair patted and his friend's shoulder and nodded, knowing in his heart he would be feeling just the same. The two walked up together along the passage and Peadair turned the talk to the good times at hand, not letting him dwell in his bitter misery of loss.

Garreth and Grayson took their ladies on a tour of the castle and then to their chambers. It took no time for either couple to be kissing passionately once the doors were closed. 

Julia and Anne had walked through the gardens to the altar that had been constructed. They sat beside it and talked of the ceremony and what oath they wished them to say. Both agreed on a version performed by the priests at Iona Abbey, that had been done at joining MacLeod's for over two hundred years. Anne mentioned her ancestors in Glengarry had performed much the same ritual as Julia's kin had done. They ran through it several times, to make sure they remembered everything and smiled happily they wouldn't be any cause for concern for the ceremony.

The two couples arrived in the gardens and came up to the women sitting on a low garden wall. Julia and Anne smiled brightly, seeing the love so clearly evident in the eyes of their offspring. Garreth proudly walked up with Therese holding his arm and walking close beside him.

"Mother, it is my pleasure and honour tae introduce ye tae my betrothed, Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. Lady Therese, this is my mother, Lady Julia MacLeod." he said proudly.

Therese was showing her nervousness, but Julia's smiled softened her fears and she felt more at ease and smiled back.

"It is my privilege to meet so fine a lady as you, Lady Julia." Therese said, as she curtseyed deeply to her.

"My dear child, It is I who am privileged tae meet ye. I've heard so much about ye and noo that ye stand before me, the rumours are'ne true enough." Julia praised her.

"You have heard rumours of me?" Therese said in surprise.

"Yes, many. I was told ye were beautiful and ye are. I heard ye were very much a lady and that's true as well. My son has told me some of your past as well and I wish to offer my condolences on the loss of yer parents and step-parents." Julia told her, as she held her hands out to her.

Therese took them and saw the compassion in Julia's eyes.

"I will always miss them, no matter how much time passes. I look forward now to being the wife of your son and making him happy and proud to have me as part of your family." Therese told her sincerely.

"Ye will be a very welcomed member tae oor family and clan, Therese." Julia told her and held her hands firmer to show she meant it.

Therese beamed widely, her smile showing her heart-filled happiness, Julia's smile showing much the same.

Garreth felt a rush of happiness consume him, seeing his mother and Therese take to one another so well.

"I can't believe in two days time, that oor children will be joined and soon tae become parents themselves." Anne spoke out, 

"I know, Anne. It seems we were only feeding and dressing them not so long ago." Julia replied. 

Garreth reddened a bit, as did Grayson, a slight embarrassment at remembering their youthful times past.

"I know my parents would be so proud that Garreth had chosen me and would welcome him as a son. I know in my heart it is true." Therese confessed.

"Therese, the more we talk and I get tae know ye more, the more I feel the same. I don't think Garreth could ha'e made a better choice than ye. I look forward tae ye being my daughter and sharing many moments together. I always hoped William, would bless me wi' a daughter, but I was gi'en two fine boys instead. Noo, ye can be what I always hoped fer." Julia told her, her emotions coming to the surface and tears forming in her eyes.

"Oh, Lady Julia, I so wish for that myself. It has been so long since I could share thoughts with my mother and have longed for that in my life."

Garreth literally beamed with pride, at hearing and seeing his mother and Therese bond.

"Would ye like tae walk wi' me through the gardens and we can talk together?" Julia asked her.

"It would be my honour and pleasure to join you, Lady Julia." Therese said happily and curtseyed.

"My child, ye may call me Julia." she told her with affection.

"It would be an even greater honour, if I may call you mother." Therese asked shyly.

"I would like that very much, Therese. Yes, ye may call me that." Julia told her, her own emotions now showing again and the tears welling in her eyes.

Garreth watched as his mother and Therese hugged for the first time and could see that they were accepting of each other. His heart couldn't fill with anymore happiness, than he was feeling at that moment.

Therese and Julia excused themselves and were soon walking and sharing things about themselves.

Grayson stood with Heather, who was holding his arm and looking at her mother.

"Grayson, I too could'ne be happier and could'ne imagine a finer man fer my daughter tae join wi'." Anne told him, letting him know he too had made hearts happy.

Grayson looked to his friend and both of them smiled happier than they ever had before. Heather looked at her mother and she too smiled happier than anytime before.

Garreth helped Anne up and offered his arm to her, then the four walked back to the castle and left Julia and Therese to bond. 

"Yer worries were fer not, Garreth. I think yer ma and Therese are going tae accept one another and be quite close. I could see in yer ma's eyes that she likes her and Therese likes her." Grayson told his friend.

Garreth smiled in embarrassment, at having his worries exposed.

"I'll let ye's in on a wee secret. Julia was quite taken wi' Therese e'en before ye's arrived. She told me everyone she spoke to, could'ne say enough nice things about Therese. She was in a bit of awe of her tae be truthful. She sounded too good tae be true. Her a lady in France wi' a chateau and lands, obviously a great deal of money and power as well. She's very proud, Garreth. Of ye and who ye've chosen tae join wi'." Anne told them.

Garreth literally beamed with pride, upon hearing how well he had pleased his mother.

"Well there ye go, Garreth. It can'ne be said any clearer than that." Grayson joked with him, pushing him playfully, then clasped his hand to the back of his head and pulled him into a semi-hug. 

The four continued on to the castle, obliviously happy, even though war was being readied to be waged upon them.

Tioram was also alive with sounds and smells, a mass of humanity mingling together. Weapons were given a fine edge by the smithy and then honed to a razor sharpness. Others trained in battle moves, the loch awash with birlinns, as they practised tactics and manoeuvres. 

Arabella and Braedon sat side by side, while Robert, Sorley, Colla, Donnie Donahue, Liam O'Bannion, Neil Kennedy and Sean Donnely sat around them. Their cheery mood was still evident with the raucous talk between them, but Arabella started to quiet them down. 

"Ì wish tae make an announcement, one which brings great joy tae my heart. My brother Grayson, has chosen tae join wi' Lady Heather MacDonnell. At the same time, Laird Garreth MacLeod has chosen tae join wi' a dear friend of mine, Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson. They'll be ha'ing a hand fasting ceremony at week's end and I'd like fer ye's tae join me in attending. Ye know there'll be plenty of food and drink and it would honour them both if ye came. What say ye's? Two days hence we'll sail fer Dunvegan and celebrate a great day?" Arabella put to them. "We'll be back soon after tae tend tae things again."

A unanimous cheer went up and laughter took over once more, as greater celebrations were to be had. The time passed quickly and as scheduled, a finely decorated birlinn was pushed off the shore and ten men rowed down the loch, until they reached the mouth and raised the sail. The off-shore breeze quickly filled the arcing canvas, straining it tightly and soon hair was blowing back, as the boat skimmed over the waves. Arabella and Braedon sat with the guests, enjoying the early morning warmth of June, their affections quite clearly showing, by the way Arabella sat close and laid her head on Braedon's shoulder and laughed at things he said. When he put an arm around her, murmurs were whispered amongst everyone, that another joining was in the making.

The birlinn made its way into Loch Dunvegan by mid-day, to rousing cheers from the castle. Banners waved in the breeze, along with hands happy to see their arrival. Once the birlinn was still, Arabella was assisted down, followed by Braedon and the others. Garreth and Grayson stood amazed, as they saw who was coming out to meet them.

When the birlinn emptied, everyone stood waiting for someone to say something, until Arabella spoke out.

"Grayson, I brought a few friends along, I hope ye don't mind?"

"And great friends they are, indeed!" Grayson shouted out happily, before hugging his sister and then turned to Braedon. 

They looked at each other in hesitancy, searching where they stood with each other.

Grayson looked quickly to his sister, who smiled softly and nodded once. He turned back to Braedon and his face broke into a worried smile.

"Am I fergi'en, Braedon." he asked cautiously.

"Only if ye can fergive me, Grayson." Braedon said back, his face clearly making his request sincere, as he held his hand out to him.

"Aye, I will, but I don't understand." Grayson replied, not knowing why he asked for it, but shaking wrists firmly.

"We'll talk of it later, dear brother, fer now, let's get everyone up tae the castle and introduce one another properly."

"A good idea, Bella." he smiled at her and then hugged her close and shook her lovingly.

"Garreth, let's ha'e oor guests enjoy some drink and food, after their voyage. Lead on my friend and host, let us be merry and bless the day with the best of cheer." Grayson shouted out.

Rousing cheers went up from everyone and Garreth led the procession up the seawall passage and into the castle courtyard. All the ladies were seated on benches in the shade and rose when everyone appeared. Arabella saw them and quickly made her way over to them.

"That's the last ye'll see of yer women noo." Peadair joked.

"Aye, let them gab their heads off. Gi'es us peace tae enjoy food and drink and get tae know oor new friends." Garreth joked back.

The men made their way into the hall, the walls ringing with boisterous talk and laughter. They sat around the table and servants quickly brought glasses and the clan drink, filling a good measure in each. When Garreth saw that every man had a glass in hand, he raised his to them.

"Men, it's my privilege and honour tae ha'e ye at Dunvegan. Grayson will agree how surprised we were tae see ye's on board. Tae oor new guests, I welcome ye's and we'll come tae know each other as friends. Tae my old friends, it does my heart good tae see ye's here. Though the days ahead will be joyous and filled wi' merriment, I know ye's are here tae prepare fer the days after, when peace will no longer reign o'er the clans. We ha'e time fer talk of those days in the days ahead, but these ones are fer oor pleasure tae enjoy the life we know and value. Tae the Highlands, Tae Scotland." Garreth toasted, roaring out at the end.

Loud cheers of approval were heard, before glasses were emptied and filled again, the first of many toasts to be made that day.

The ladies sat in the quiet shade, happy to be away from the yelling and laughter and the bawdy talk of sex the men were getting into. They enjoyed a cool cider with ginger root and cinnamon, specially made for the occasion. Their talk was much more subdued and far more subtle, but the content was very much the same. Therese and Heather kept their dresses a secret, wanting them to be a surprise for everyone, much to the dismay of the other women, despite how much they pled. Anne and Julia did go through the ceremony with them and what was to be said and what was to happen. Therese's face took a quick turn of worry, when she heard that Garreth and her wrists would be bound by a ribbon.

"What's the matter Therese?" Arabella asked her, noticing her look.

"I do not have a ribbon for the ceremony. I did not know about it, Bella. What shall I do?" Therese fretted.

In a quick thought, Arabella untied the red, silk ribbon holding her hair up and passed it to Therese.

"This will do just fine, my sister. No tae worry, I'd do anything tae make sure yer day went right." she told her.

Therese looked at the ribbon and held it delicately in her hands. Tears of happiness filled her eyes and she hugged her friend closely, almost toppling them off the bench. Therese kissed Arabella's cheeks several times each and smiled happily, knowing her joining with Garreth would go off without a hitch. Arabella giggled at the attention she was given and the women laughed along. Heather quietly remembered the kisses she shared with Therese that day in her room and wondered who else had done anything like that before. 

She had laid in her bed that night and touched the spot herself, starting with thoughts of Grayson, but soon returning to Therese and how she had made her feel, when the pleasure consumed her once more. Anne noticed her daughter's skin flushing and asked if she was alright. Heather flushed even more at being noticed and said she was fine and not to worry, that it must just be the heat. Only Arabella caught the look towards Therese when she was first asked and wondered why. She put the thought away and considered another.

"I do hope Sloan Fraser can make it safely back tae Stalker and return in time fer the ceremony. He's bringing a young lass and her three brothers tae Tioram fer safety and once she has bathed and changed intae the clothes I left fer her, they'll be making their way here. My heart goes oot tae them. The troubles they've had tae face already in their young lives. It's a shame so it is."

The other ladies knew little of what had happened, but knew it must have been dire for Arabella to feel the way she did about it. It only took several questions, before she was relating what she had been told by Sloan. By the end, every woman was feeling the way Arabella was about it and pledged to make them feel welcomed and safe amongst them. 

             ************************

Stuart stopped there and turned to Argus in private.

"Nothing happened tae Sloan on his way there or back did it?

"No, as far as anything I've read about, the voyage was uneventful." he answered.

Stuart thanked him and continued on.

             ***********************

The birlinn carrying Sloan and Kyla arrived late in the day before the ceremony. Peadair had come down to greet them and usher them into the castle. Sounds of celebration were filling the castle and made it easy for the couple to feel at ease. Peadair looked for his brother, but found Arabella first. He told her the couple had arrived and were waiting at the courtyard entrance, so she quickly made her way through the throngs of people towards them. Sloan smiled upon seeing her and looked at Kyla, visually introducing her.

"Sloan, I'm so happy ye could make it back safely in time. And this must be the sweet, wee lassie ye told me of. A pleasure tae meet ye, Kyla Fraser." she said to her.

Kyla was speechless and looked lost in all the goings on. Sloan gave her a little shake and brought her out of her stupor. 

"Lady Arabella MacDonald, this is Kyla Fraser. Kyla, this is the chieftess of the MacDonald's of Clanranald at Castle Tioram."

Once Kyla realized who she was, she fell to her knees and thanked her for everything she had done for her. Arabella looked embarrassed at the display and helped her up, giving her her handkerchief to dry her eyes.

"Not tae worry, child. It's the least I can do fer what ye've been through and what Sloan 

has offered tae us in aid." she told her softly. "It is I who am in yer debt fer all ye've done tae help us." she finished saying and bowed her head to her.

Kyla stood in awe, at seeing a powerful woman pay such respect to her.

"M'Lady, I don't understand." Kyla managed to say, curtseying to her.

"Not tae worry, Kyla. I know ye don't understand. Just know ye are welcome here and at Tioram and will be looked after." Arabella told her, smiling to ease her confusion.

Kyla held onto Sloan and looked up to him. He kissed her forehead and smiled at her too.

"Ye and yer brothers will ha'e a place tae call home, once all the fighting is o'er, that's what her Ladyship is saying tae ye." he explained.

Kyla looked at Sloan in wonderment and once she understood what was going to be done for her and her brothers, she fell to her knees again and took Arabella's hand and kissed it, then held it to her cheek, her tears releasing in abundance.

"Thank ye, thank ye. I know not of hoo tae thank ye any more." Kyla choked out, tears pouring from her eyes as she looked up to Arabella.

She helped Kyla up and gave her a hug and another smile, brushing her hair back from her face.

"I must say though, ye do look lovely in my dress. Ye fill it out quite well, ye do." she remarked, as she looked Kyla over.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 39



Kyla did indeed fit the dress well, her large breasts filling out the bodice and her mature body giving the dress a womanly shape. Kyla blushed crimson at the compliment and smiled happily through her tears..

"Why don't ye join the men, Sloan and leave Kyla here wi' us. I know ye'd much rather be in their company, than ours." Arabella told him, a small wink accompanying her smile.

Sloan hugged Kyla and left her with Arabella, then bowed to the ladies each, before he made his way inside to the hall.

Kyla sat on the bench with Arabella and the others and before too long, started feeling comfortable sitting with ladies of such standing. Her biggest surprise came when the ladies offered to fix her hair. The trip to Dunvegan had left her long, dark hair scattered and twisted. After a good combing and the use of clips and ribbons, Kyla was transformed to look more beautiful than she'd ever done before. The polished silver tray doubled as a mirror for her and she gazed at herself for the first time in many years and saw how she looked. She didn't recognize herself at first, the transformation so drastic, but soon accepted the image she saw as her own.

"Yes, it is ye, Kyla." Heather told her. "Ye look absolutely beautiful." Anne and Therese agreed and complimented her as well.

"I think we all agree wi' that, Kyla. Yer a lovely, wee lassie." Arabella confirmed.

Someone else who thought Kyla looked beautiful, was Peadair. From the moment he saw her, his heart was filled with longing to have her. He stood in secret, unseen behind the flowering Gorse bush and watched her become an exceptional beauty, under the guidance of trained hands.

Sloan had entered the hall and stood at the entrance, taking in the revelry among the 

men. A guard ushered him to Garreth's side and announced his presence. Garreth excused himself from talking to Sorley and stood to acknowledge Sloan. 

"Sloan Fraser, it is indeed a pleasure tae meet ye. I can'ne thank ye enough fer what yer doing tae aid the cause. I offer my condolences as well on yer loss, but we'll no speak of it the now. Join us and drink and eat. Ha'e yer fill and enjoy the celebration, Sloan, yer among friends now." Garreth told him and offered his hand in friendship.

Sloan clasped wrists and looked at the man before him, only a few years ahead in age, 

but his stature and power placed him far above his own station.

"It is my honour tae be wi' ye's and celebrate yer joining. I saw the ladies as I came in, 

which one are ye joining wi'?" Sloan asked.

"The one wi' raven black hair tae her waist and green eyes tae melt yer soul. Lady Therese is who I'm joining my heart wi'." he explained, as they sat down, Sloan taking Peadair's seat.

"She is a true beauty, Laird Garreth. Yer a very, lucky man." Sloan relayed.

"I thank ye, Sloan. She is indeed a true beauty. She had my heart the moment I laid eyes on her. I understand ye ha'e brought a lovely wee lass wi' ye as well. Where is she?" Garreth asked. 

"May I sit here, Laird Garreth,?" Sloan asked, realizing he must be in someone of honour's seat.

"Yes, sit, Sloan, Peadair is out on the grounds most likely, so sit and enjoy."

"Kyla's oot in the gardens wi' the other ladies." Sloan told him.

That brought laughter from Garreth and he clapped his hand over Sloan's shoulder.

"Ye won't be seeing her anymore till later tonight. She'll be their captive and talk all that silly woman talk oot of her." he told Sloan, laughing harder.

Sloan understood and laughed as heartily as his new friend.

Garreth stood and shouted out for quiet and after some coaxing, the roar of laughter and talk died down.

"Men, I'd like tae introduce ye's tae Sloan Fraser. He's a welcome friend of the MacDonald's and the Stewart's and oors as well. He and his clan will be among us, so bring him food and drink noo, tae make him welcome here." Garreth shouted out, then clasped wrists with Sloan.

A full plate of meat, vegetables and potatoes was soon placed before him, along with a tankard of ale as well. Before his first drink of ale was done, Sloan was enjoying the company of jubilant men and forgetting the terrors of war, as he joined in the raucous talk of female conquests and nights under the robes.

          *******************************

"I don't ha'e tae describe all the goings on that night, do I?" Stuart asked the guests. "Shall I just get tae the next day and tell of the ceremony?"

"Did anything juicy happen worth talking about?" Gayle blurted out, which brought a few more requests for steamy highland sex.

"I swear, I could just ferget all aboot the battles and just go on about the sexual exploits and ye's would all be happy, wouldn't ye's?" Stuart jokingly chastened them.

The women whooped out loud and agreed with Stuart's call.

"Okay, as far as I know, there were a few goings on that night, but I'm not going intae any details. I'll just say that Kyla must'ae impressed Sloan wi' more than her beauty that night. According tae Arabella's diary, Sloan announced that he and Kyla were going tae bond once the war was o'er. So I'll let ye's fill in the blanks wi' whate'er yer minds can come up wi'." he laughed and saw the look of dismay on the women, "Och, don't gi' me that look, ye don't need me tae describe what they did." and he laughed a bit harder. "Now, if ye's would let me get tae the next morning, I'll get tae tell Tom and Deb about the ceremony."

"Thank you, Uncle Stuart." Debra said loudly and blew a kiss at him and snuggled into Tom.

"Yer welcome, Dear. Ready? Here we go then." he said and started in at the crack of dawn, as it broke the darkness and spread silver streaks through the clouds, highlighting Dunvegan Castle in a wash of light.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 40



The gardens were alive with light and colour, as the streaks of sunlight filled the grounds of Dunvegan. High up in the Fairy Tower, banners were raised and the soft wind had them fluttering gently. Benches were placed in rows for the guests to sit on and two rows of colourful flower petals delineated the path for the couples to walk along. 

Servants and staff were busy at first light, preparing food and drink for the feast afterwards. The hall was decorated in bright colours of cloth and ribbons with juniper and heath with heather intertwined through it. Banners of all clan tartans were hung from the walls and the clan banners were flown side by side from the walls. In honour of Therese, flags of Fleur de Lis of gold on a blue background were hung alongside the tartans.

By the time the couples had awakened, the castle was a flurry of bodies making every effort to make the day spectacular. Gregor broke the misty morning silence, as he filled his pipes and began to play Grayson's favourite air. Within a few minutes of playing, two McCrimmon pipers were making their way into the courtyard to where Gregor was, playing in harmony with him. Gregor nodded and smiled, as he played on, the two taking a position to either side of him. Once the tune was over, they asked if Gregor knew an Ode to the Bride. He winked and smiled at them, as he started it off and the sweet blend of the pipes rang out to the castle and filled the air with the melody. A swath of sunlight broke through the clouds and made it's way along the ground and seemed to highlight the pipers as they played.

Grayson awoke smiling, hearing his air being played so well. He relieved himself in the pot and breathed in the morning air, as he listened.

Garreth awoke to the pipes as well and felt the drink from last night make his head swirl a bit. He opened his window to the sounds of his pipers and leaned on the sill to listen, letting the fresh air clear his head.

Heather and Therese shared the same room, the bride's to be being treated to their feet being washed by the other ladies, a tradition to wish her a good path ahead. Their pillows were scented by sachets of lavender, heather and juniper hung from the corner posts. They awoke facing one another and in moments, held hands and smiled. Heather boldly leaned forward and kissed Therese's lips briefly. 

"I am so happy for us, Heather. Our lives will be lived with the men we love and we will be friends forever. I could never dream of so beautiful a day. Listen...do you hear that?" Therese asked, hearing the sounds of the pipes.

"Aye, that's Grayson's favourite air they're playing. Isn't it lovely? Oh, listen. I know what they're playing noo. That's fer us, Therese, it's an Ode tae the Bride. Come, let's listen." Heather told her and climbed out of bed, covering herself with a robe. Therese did the same and the two stood at the open window and waved to the pipers, as they played. 

Once the music finished, the pipers waved to the Ladies and the Lairds and came back into the castle. Maids came to the ladies to help them get ready and a bath was soon filled and shortly after, the two ladies were being bathed and then dressed, their hair brushed and combed before intricate braids were made with coloured beads interwoven in them.

Garreth and Grayson were in their own chambers doing the same. Garreth looked in the mirror at himself and felt proud. For all the fussing they did on grooming him that annoyed him, it clearly showed in his appearance. His new kilt was perfectly pleated and the 'blanket' hung over his left shoulder, held in place with a very ornate brooch made of silver with a dark, purple amethyst for the thistle, the end tucked under his belt. 

His new leather belt gleamed from the polishing and there hanging proudly from it, was 

the new basket handled sword Grayson had made for him. The filigree metal gleamed 

brightly in the sunlight and dazzled his eyes. His Skean Dubh was sheathed in the oxter, the Cairngorm stone gleaming from the end of the handle. His dirk, bog wood sheath, with silver filament adorning the tip and front, sat on his sporran belt on his left side. His new cuarans, deerskin boots he had finely tanned, were tied to his legs with thongs, over his tartan hose, that were held up with ribbon garters. He adjusted his bonnet, so the feathers stood straight up, making him take one last look at himself before exiting his chambers. 

Grayson watched the servants leave and then turned to admire himself as well. His long, crimson hair had been tamed and combed out, making him look civil and less feral. He admired how every piece of silver gleamed brightly about him. He felt prouder than he had ever felt before in his life, feeling he presented himself well on this special day of days. His MacDonald plaid was carefully assembled on him and his Cairngorm brooch twinkled when the light hit it, the dark, brown crystal turning golden in the light. His new sword and belt shone brilliantly as well, his other blades equally as dazzling. He looked at his new shoes and turned his foot to admire them more. Arabella had sworn by their comfort and Grayson was quickly agreeing with her. Brogans she called them, but he liked his cuarans for daily wear. He proudly walked out of his chambers and met Garreth just leaving his.

"My friend, we do great honour this day tae oorselves and oor clans. Ye strike a good look tae ye. The sword pleases ye I take it?" Grayson said to him, as they walked the hall together.

"Aye, Grayson. It's a beautiful sword. I can'ne thank ye enough dear friend fer the kindness. I must find a way tae repay ye in kind." Garreth said to him, his hand extending out to Grayson.

They shook firmly and looked at each other with admiration, before a quick hug and they continued on to the stairs. Garreth couldn't help but poke a bit of fun at Grayson's footwear, but Grayson quickly gave Garreth a kick in his arse, as he went down first, making Garreth catch his step and then laugh. Once they reached the bottom, Gregor led the two chiefs from the keep and the four McCrimmon pipers followed behind out into the grounds towards the altar. The guests stood when they heard the pipers and watched the two friends being led towards them. The looks on their faces confirmed they were greatly impressed with their display. The guests had been treated to a bath and some grooming to look their best, but the lairds truly were magnificent in their splendid dress.

As the men made their way along the flower lined aisle, they took their place and faced the guests. The pipers finished playing and returned to the castle in quick order. Julia and Anne stood together, their dresses adorned with brocade panels, studded with semi-precious stones in intricate Celtic patterns. As different in colour and style as they were, they seemed to match well together. 

The sound of the pipes echoed from inside the castle, signalling everyone the brides were on their way. All eyes watched, as the pipers led the two ladies along the path to the gardens and along the flowered aisle. They slowly paced their steps in time with the air, coming to stand beside their mates. Everyone looked in awe at the beautiful women coming towards them. Heather and Therese looked translucent in the morning light, the fine linen so sheer to let the light pass through. Heather's light, silk panels of green across her bosom and down the legs of her dress glowed with the sunlight, while Therese's cobalt blue front bodice panel tapered down to a point on her abdomen and numerous strips sewn vertically down the legs. 

The layers of linen masked enough of their silhouettes, that their bodies weren't seen clearly, but the outline was clear enough to know they were naked underneath. A 'vee' of gossamer lace splay open the chest and cleavage of Therese's breasts, while delicate lace adorned Heather the same way. The 

pipers peeled off to the sides and finished, deflating the bagpipes.

Julia spoke first, offering a welcome to the guests.

"I welcome ye all t'day tae Dunvegan and the joinings of Laird Garreth MacLeod tae Lady Therese de Mornay de Trecesson and Laird Grayson MacDonald tae Lady Heather MacDonnell. It is their decision tae join in bond and if there is anyone here who objects tae their joining, speak and be heard." she waited for the length of a breath and continued.

"I will preside o'er the joining of my son, tae Lady Therese, while Lady Anne MacDonnell of Eilean Donan will preside o'er the joining of Laird Grayson and her daughter, Heather."

Arabella sat in front, looking at her brother and felt so much joy, then to the man she truly loved, and felt her heart sink, while Braedon sat beside her holding her hand. She could feel her sadness threatening her happiness and choked back her feelings, then looked up at Braedon and smiled. Braedon noticed her move and saw her looking at him. He felt his heart warm at the sight and smiled back, his love showing clearly in his eyes.

Julia came closer to Garreth and Therese and took each of their right hands and had them hold each other, as she placed her hand over top of them, the red, silk ribbon on her wrist. Anne came to Grayson and Heather and did the same with them. Together they spoke the blessing to the couples and to everyone.

"Blessed be this union wi' the gifts of the East

Communication of the heart, mind and body

Fresh beginnings with the rising of each Sun

The knowledge of the growth found in their silences.

Blessed be this union wi' the gifts of the South

Warmth of heart and home

The heat of the heart's passion

The light created by both to illuminate the darkest of times

Blessed be this union wi' the gifts of the West

The deep commitments of the lake. The swift excitement of the river

The refreshing cleansing of the rain

The all encompassing passion of the sea

Blessed be this union wi' the gifts of the North

Firm foundation on which tae build

Fertility of the fields tae enrich yer lives

A stable home tae which ye may always return

Julia spoke first to Garreth and Therese, now saying their vows.

"Do ye, Garreth Malcolm William MacLeod, take Therese Marie de Mornay de Trecesson tae be yer wife, tae be her constant friend, her partner in life, her own true love?

Tae love her wi'oot reservation, honour and respect her, protect her from harm, comfort her in times of distress and tae grow wi' her in mind and spirit?"

Garreth turned to Therese and looked into her eyes deeply and felt the love in his heart for her.

He looked at her and spoke his vows to her, looking at her with all his love.

"I pledge my love tae ye and all that I own. 

I promise ye the first bits of my meal and the first sip from my cup.

I pledge that yer name will always be the name I cry aloud in the dead of night.

I promise tae honour ye above all others.

Oor love is never-ending and we will remain, forevermore, equals in oor marriage.

This is my wedding vow tae ye."

Anne turned to Grayson and repeated the same vows. He looked at Heather and clasped her hand a little tighter and repeated the same vows. Julia then turned to Therese and gave her the vows, which she spoke out in words from 

her heart and squeezed Garreth's hand as she spoke.

Anne turned to Heather and asked her the vows, her eyes welling in tears as she spoke.

With that, the two ladies untied the ribbon on their wrists and wrapped it around the couples wrists twice and tied it. The couples looked at each other, now facing each other, as the ladies finished the bonding. Together they spoke out, as they held the couple's hands in theirs, once the ribbons were tied.

"Noo ye are bound, one tae the other

Wi' a tie not easy tae break

Take the time of binding

Before the final vows are made

Tae learn what ye need tae know

Tae grow in wisdom and love

That yer marriage will be strong

That yer love will last

In this life and beyond."

Julia spoke first. "Garreth, ye may take yer wife and welcome her tae ye."

Garreth took his free hand and held Therese to him as he kissed his wife for the first time.

Before they started, Anne spoke the same words to Grayson. Both women smiled happily, as they watched their coupled children celebrate their love, then hugged, as they looked at their children, now grown and united in bond with fine mates.

Arabella kept swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to fight back her personal misery at knowing she would never have a chance to be with Garreth. Her smile was forced and she cheered along with the others, as the couples were welcomed for the first time, wishing in her heart that it was her standing with Garreth.

Julia stood before Garreth and Therese and placed her hand on the couples bound hands.

"Mi'le fa'ilte dhuit le d'bhre'id. Fa do re gun robh thu sla'n. Mo'ran la'thean duit is sith. Le d'maitheas is le dni bhi fas." she told them, Therese smiling, but looking confused at the Gaelic wedding blessing. "Oh Therese, no tae worry my dear, it means, A thousand welcomes tae ye and yer marriage. May ye be healthy all yer days. May ye be blessed wi' long life and peace, may ye grow old wi' goodness and riches."

Therese hugged Julia happily and thanked her for the lovely blessing, as did Garreth.

Guests soon offered blessings of their own and before everything lost its order, the pipers were filling the bagpipes and playing a march to bring everyone back to the castle. The couples followed behind them and then the two mothers, then guests, as the procession made the walk back along the path.

The hall was gayly decorated and the head table, raised higher on a podium, was covered in a broad swath of tartans of MacLeod, MacDonald and MacDonnell. A table in front of that for the distinguished guests, was covered in linen cloth and richly decorated. Three tables ran perpendicular to it, with enough seating for the rest, they too given embellishments to enrich the look of it and delight the guests.

The pipers played until everyone had entered and was seated, then deflated the skins as the newly weds took their places at the centre of the head table. Peadair called for calm among the guests and soon a quiet fell in the hall. Garreth rose and stood proudly in front of them, looking at them with great happiness on his face.

"My family, my friends, my loyal clansmen, it is my honour tae stand here before ye's on this great day of days. This day sees three clans united in bond and the ally of France wi' 

us. It also sees many clans coming t'gether in common bond of friendship and peace throughout oor lands. But more-so, it's the joining of my heart wi' that of Therese and my dearest friend, Grayson, joining his heart wi' his lady fair, Heather. It is a time tae celebrate these joinings and share in the joys of them wi' us. Let there be feasting and drink tae fill yer bellies, let the music play, till not an ear is left tae hear it. Let this day be remembered in yer hearts, as it will in oors."

Clapping and cheers filled the hall, then a minstrel group playing flutes and drums started playing, as food was brought out in abundance. The early afternoon was met with laughter and love, merriment and joy, as everyone ate and drank well.

Once there was a consensus that the guests were finished eating, Peadair rose and quieted the guests. 

"It's time fer entertainment, so let the pipers play a fling and bring oot the dancers."

The pipers rose from their seats and filled the pipes bladders. The skirl rose, as they tuned together and began to play, along with the pipes and drums of the minstrels. In moments, four girls in tartan trewes with swords came dancing into the hall, moving in unison with the tune. Therese had never seen highland dancing and was thrilled to see the intricate stepping and hand work. Garreth explained it was called a Ghillie Chalum. 

The dance signified the moves made in battle by a soldier. The object was to complete all the moves without touching the blades. Therese watched closely, as the girls feet almost blurred in their steps. Finally the song stopped and the girls bowed to the head table. The girls left and two men returned with two dirks each. They took their places on corner swords opposite each other. Therese asked what they were doing now and Garreth explained it was called a bruicheath, or battle dance. The drummer counted out the beat and everyone joined in again, as the two men began dancing from corner to corner, brandishing the dirks at each other. The blades came within inches and one false step could mean death or serious injury. 

Therese and many of the women gasped at the ferocity of the dance, as they spun and twirled, their feet playing around the blades. The guests clapped in time, keeping the tempo for them and cheering their efforts. As the end built to a crescendo of music, the men jumped high in the air and spun quickly. As they came down, they landed in a genuflecting position, with both dirks piercing the wooden floor. The guests applauded and cheered and brought Therese, then everyone, to their feet to thank them. The two bowed happily to them, panting breathlessly for their efforts, before gathering the swords and dirks and exiting the hall.

Peadair called for the tables to be moved, so an open area was made in the centre of the hall. The pipers and minstrels received word from Grayson to play a reel so he could dance with Heather and Garreth could dance with Therese. They picked one that everyone knew and shortly the hall filled with a gay tune. Grayson and Garreth led their ladies to the open area and Grayson and Heather began to dance. Therese had never done a reel before, but seeing how Heather moved with Grayson, she understood the moves and soon she and Garreth were stepping together in time and laughing. Shortly after, every couple was dancing and singles were soon pairing up to enjoy the lively tune. Dancing continued for several songs more, before the pipers took a rest, while the mistrels played on. 

Laughter and merriment rang out and the hall continued to be festive. Jugglers came out and amazed everyone with their feats, as cups were continually filled and plates of food brought to those with an appetite still. Happiness was present on every face throughout 

the day, as celebrations continued. When the sun had finished lighting the day, The mood returned to one of honour and respect, as guests lined up to approach the head table and offer tributes to the couples. Sorley was first to offer his.

"May God go wi' ye's and bless ye.

May ye see yer children's children.

May ye be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings,

May ye's know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

May joy and peace surround ye's both.

Contentment latch yer door

And happiness be wi' ye's noo

and God bless ye's e'ermore.

May ye live yer lives wi' trust

and nurture lifelong affection

May yer lifelong dreams come true fer ye,

Move e'er that direction.

May the road rise up tae meet ye,

May the wind be always at yer back.

May the sun shine upon yer face,

the rains fall softly on yer fields.

May the light of friendship guide yer paths t'gether,

May the laughter of children grace the halls of yer home.

May the joy of living fer each other, trip a smile from your lips,

a twinkle from yer eye.

And when eternity beckons, at the end of life,

heaped high wi' love,

May the good Lord embrace ye, wi' arms that ha'e nurtured ye,

the length of yer joy-filled days.

May the gracious God hold ye both in the palm of his hands,

and t'day, may the Spirit of Love,

find a dwelling place in yer hearts."

Sorley finished and crossed his hand over his heart and bowed to the couples, before taking his seat again. The couples sat and listened to blessing after blessing, wishing them all the happiness and joy a couple could have. Sloan and Kyla approached and Sloan offered his blessing to them. The couples thanked him and Kyla, but Kyla spoke out, before Sloan moved on.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 40



"May I offer a blessing as well?" she asked nervously, not knowing if she spoke out of turn or place.

"Aye, of course ye may, Kyla. Please, go ahead." Garreth told her, his words clearly showing the effects of too much clan drink.

Kyla bowed and curtseyed before she started.

"Happy is the bride that rain falls on.

May yer mornings bring joy and yer evenings bring peace.

May yer troubles grow few, as yer blessings increase.

May the saddest day of your future,

be no worse than the happiest day of yer past.

May yer hands be fere'er clasped in friendship

and yer hearts joined fere'er in love.

Yer lives are very special,

God has touched ye's in many ways.

May his blessings rest upon ye's

and fill all yer coming days."

She finished and bowed, curtseying deeply to both couples.

"That was so very lovely, Kyla. Where did you learn this?" Therese asked her.

"I learned it from my mammie since I was a wee girl, Lady Therese. She wanted tae say it tae me when I was wed, but she died before she could. I hope it has pleased ye's, as it has pleased me?" she asked them, looking from one to the next.

"It has pleased us very much, Kyla. Truly, it is a beautiful blessing." Garreth told her, then kissed Therese's hand, making her smile happily and then kissed her strong for everyone to see, bringing shouts of joy at the kiss. 

Grayson wasn't to be undone and stood, then helped Heather up and held her to him, as he kissed her with passion. The walls reverberated with the cheers for more, then Garreth rose with Therese. They too locked in a passionate embrace and kiss, bringing the guests to bang cups and hands on the tables and stomp their feet on the floor. Arabella squeezed Braedon's hand tighter, as she looked at Garreth kissing Therese, tensing at the hurt and he took it as a sign she was feeling in kind. He turned her face to him and kissed her, not noticing the tears beginning in her eyes. 

Cheers rang out for them and the couples broke apart upon hearing them and began to cheer along. Hearing them in her ears, Arabella put more of her heart back into her kiss and returned her feelings strongly in her touch and lips. Calls rang out for another ceremony for them and Braedon broke the kiss, as he looked into her eyes. He raised his hand for quiet and as soon as the cheering stopped, they waited for him to speak.

"Lady Arabella MacDonald, it would indeed be the greatest of honours, if ye would accept a proposal of marriage from me and agree tae be my wife."

The hall fell completely silent, as they looked at Arabella intently. Without more than a few moments of pause, she looked at him with great love in her eyes and the look on her face, as she answered.

"Laird Braedon Stewart, it would truly be a great honour tae marry so fine a man as yerself, I accept yer proposal." then came forward to offer her lips to him again.

They kissed madly with passion, oblivious and uncaring to the roar of cheers around them.

Garreth banged his hand on the table and called for quiet, the guests challenging him by continuing to cheer. Finally they stopped, when Arabella and Braedon parted, giving Garreth a chance to quiet them.

Friends, it is indeed a glorious day. A day filled with great love and happiness. This couple before me ha'e blessed oor unions, by sharing in them wi' a further bond of love. I ha'e ne'er felt so happy and proud, as I do on this day. I offer them e'ery happiness and good fortune and I know all of ye's do as well. Let us raise oor cups and toast tae Laird Braedon and Lady Arabella and wish them well."

Cups were filled and guests waited for Garreth to continue.

"Tae a new love, one we wish tae grow strong and fill the hearts of this couple. May it bless them wi' happiness and joy in the years tae come, may it see them through times of hardship and carry them forward. Bless this couple and the union they wish tae make t'gether, make it strong and let it last long in their years. Join me noo in wishing them well in their new journey in life t'gether. Tae Bella and Braedon." he shouted out and the guests shouted in kind, before cups were drank and cheering resumed.  

The musicians broke into a tune and soon the hall was filled with festivity again. The guests that didn't get a chance to see the couple, were happy enough to continue the party and knew they would get a chance to offer their blessing before the night was through. Braedon took Arabella to the open area and danced happily with her, enjoying 

their new bond of love. A guard made his way towards Garreth, holding a dispatch in his hand. He waited for Garreth to finish talking to Grayson, before interrupting. 

"Pardons my Laird, this was just brought by the Earl's men. They sailed in and handed it to us, then immediately rowed away." he said, handing it to him. Garreth opened it and quickly read the contents to himself. His face turned to one of instant rage and threw the paper on the ground, before racing out of the castle into the twilight. He saw 

the galley rowing away from the castle and screamed at it from the battlement wall.

"Tell that poofy bastard, Wallace, he'll ne'er ha'e Lady Therese. She is my wife and I'll kill him myself if he tries anything. He can kiss my arse and damn him tae Hell." 

Grayson had rushed from the castle after him and stood beside him. He could see the rage in his eyes and asked what he had read. Garreth told him and Grayson turned towards the now distant boat and felt his own rage boil. They returned to the hall to find Therese being consoled by Heather, Anne and Arabella, as well as many other guests. In front of her was the dispatch and Garreth picked it up and stood on the table. He held the paper high and shouted out to everyone so they knew what had caused such distress.

"This piece of filth I hold in my hand, is from the Earl of Huntly. He is challenging my joining wi` Therese. He had made a contract of marriage wi' Therese's mother and had his chance. Therese declined his offer, knowing there was no future wi' him. She was free tae join wi' me and she has. I swear before all of ye's noo, if that bastard Wallace so much as utters a word tae the church, or king, I'll kill him and hang his head from the gate and scatter his remains on MacLeod's Tables fer the birds tae pick at his bones."

The festive mood turned sour, as the ladies helped a weeping Therese to Garreth's chambers, as the men consoled Garreth and swore their allegiance to defend his honour and his bond with Therese. The guests dispersed to their rooms and homes, as the servants began cleaning up. The leaders gathered and discussed the events, with Garreth declaring that two men must die in this battle, James MacRae and Douglas Wallace. There was no wedding night bliss that night for Garreth and Therese.

********************************

Stuart ended at that point and turned to Tom and Deb, asking what they thought of the ceremony.

"Uncle Stuart, that was really beautiful, but so sad at the end. What a lousy way to end a wedding night, sure glad we don't have an Earl of Huntly problem. I do have a question though. How can we do it like that by tomorrow? I don't have a proper dress and Tom didn't bring anything that formal. Plus, we need to learn what we need to do and say a bit better. That was a beautiful ceremony like I said, but I can't remember half of it even now." Deb said first, her face showing her doubts and getting a look of agreement from Tom.

"Yes, it was sad, There's a bit more heartbreak as well fer Therese and Garreth, but I'll save that fer later. So, I guess we ha'e a wee sticking point, don't we. Let me make a few calls and pull a few strings and we'll ha'e it next Saturday, before ye's go back. That will gi'e us the time we need and let ye's ha'e yer wedding night in the castle. It was'ne till I finished, that I started tae think of that myself. Not tae worry though, as Chief of this clan, I should be able tae make a few things happen still. Guests, here's what we need tae do. We need tae find some material fer a dress and ha'e it made in one week, can the women help me wi' this?" he asked and five immediately said they would. "I'll take Tom tae get fitted fer a kilt and jacket, along wi' what he needs tae look his best. Men, can ye help wi' any accessories ye feel might make him look more like a laird about tae be wed? I ha'e a couple of things I know tae use, but anything will help."

The men agreed they'd go through what treasures they had and offered to loan them to Tom for the day. Tom and Deb couldn't be happier and soon everyone, but one was getting into what to do to prepare. Only Argus showed a disappointment the telling stopped. He knew in his heart that the time was getting close to divulge what he knew and wanted Stuart to continue, but as he looked around, there was no hope the story would continue tonight. Tomorrow, he knew would be the day he'd be able to tell his secret and made plans to be here early enough to catch any telling. He looked at Stuart and then to Tavish, then pondered what their responses would be like, when he told them the news. He was starting to get impatient himself and like a jack-in-the-box being wound up, he wanted to finally spring the news and yell surprise!



Blood of the Clans Ch. 41



Tom and Deb awoke the next morning and once breakfast was over, they headed outside to the gardens and imagined what it was like over four hundred and twenty years ago, when Garreth and Grayson joined with their ladies. They walked along what they imagined to be the flower-lined path and tried to imagine pipers leading them to the altar. Coming to a clear area of grass beside a low garden wall, Deb felt they had come to the spot Uncle Stuart had described. She turned to look back at the castle and imagined a path from it, coming towards her. She tried to imagine the petals leading her down an aisle and an altar in front of the wall. 

"Tom, I think we're in the exact spot that Garreth and Therese were." she told him excitedly.

Tom looked around and followed her direction where she described with her hand. He too felt they were there and soon they were imagining what kind of altar they would have and chairs placed for the guests. They embraced happily and stood where they would join, then began kissing. Their passions rose the more they kissed and shortly the desire for intimate touching started. Quickly they looked around and lay down together, readily returning to intimacy. Tom kissed Deb, as he partially lay over her and slid his hand up her body, going under her light sweater. Deb gasped, as he cupped her breast and rolled the tender nub in his fingers. Her fingers grasped his hair and her tongue twirled wildly with his, as she felt her arousal build. She reached down and undid Tom's pants and sought out his rising member, taking it in her hand gently and coaxing it to full readiness, with knowing strokes. 

Consumed in the moment, they readied themselves to have sex and stripped away panties and pants. Tom held himself above her, as Deb held him and parted her legs, guiding him between her moist folds. Tom looked deeply into her eyes, as he felt himself enter her slowly, then Deb's fingers clenched into his ass cheeks and pulled him in tightly to her. Tom started to slowly thrust inside her, as their lips and tongues mingled in ecstasy, their hands enticing each other to reach bliss.

As quietly as they could, they reached their goal within strokes of each other and shared a moment with erotic history. Tom and Deb lay together, catching their breath, kissing and smiling, the afterglow relaxing them. The sounds of voices far off on the grounds had them scrambling to get dressed again and then sneak into the gardens and re-appear as if they were walking casually. Gordon was slowly making his way along with Taylor and his wife, Lisa. Tom and Deb met up with them and greeted them, casually talking about the beautiful weather and the gardens. 

Taylor pulled Tom to the side slightly and quietly said, "Zip."

Tom quickly turned from the others and pulled it closed and whispered, "Thanks," back. 

Taylor patted his back and winked, as he smiled and they walked back to the spot Deb felt was where the altar was back then.

"So what do you think of the story so far, Tom?" Taylor asked.

"It's awesome, Taylor. Uncle Stuart, Tav and Argus sure know a lot about the clan history. That's one of the big things that Deb and I wanted to do when we came here and this is way beyond what we hoped to learn. Can you believe some of the things they talk about though? All that wild sex and the brutal killings and stuff? Deb and I wonder about that some times after they finish, just how much is real and how much they make up as they go along." Tom told him, letting him know they were sceptical about things.

"In all honesty, Tom, everything they've talked about happened. There's things that have happened that would make you sick and others that would make your blood boil. You have no idea, laddie, just what Scotland has gone through. Pay close attention and don't discount anything you think isn't true. If you do think it is, just ask and I'm sure they'll find

some proof for you. This truly is a great experience in learning about your history and the history of the highlands. I've learned so much in the last few days, that it made me feel I knew nothing before. Stuart and Tavish, as well as Argus, are very big on the clan histories and Scotland as well. Don't forget, Tavish was a history professor at Glasgow University." Taylor told him and could see the reality sinking in for Tom. "As for the steamy stuff, who said that was something modern that happened? People have been doing things for a long time and we just happen to be privy to a written account of it. I have to say though, Arabella was quite the lusty woman. Therese, I'm beginning to think, had a thing for the ladies, as well as Garreth." he said in hushed tones.

"No kidding. She would love living in today's times, I bet. That kind of lifestyle would be easier to have now." Tom confided his thoughts.

"What makes you think it was hard back then?" Taylor said and laughed loudly, making his wife and Deb, as well as Gordon turn around to look at them.

They came to the spot and looked around, agreeing it might well be the spot that was used back then. The women started imagining how everything would look and how it would happen. The men casually walked a bit away from them and discussed more manly pursuits, as Gordon slowly made his way back through the gardens, stopping to pick at deadheads on the plants and then moved on towards the castle.

Argus drove onto the castle grounds shortly before ten and parked in the family parking area. He was determined that today, would be the day the MacLeod's learned the truth. Gordon welcomed him in and ushered him to the living room, where Stuart was enjoying his morning cup of tea.

"Argus, yer here awfy early, what brings ye tae the castle?" Stuart asked him as he sat.

"Yer going tae continue the telling today?" Argus asked him, his question almost like a command.

"Aye, in fact I'm waiting on my nephew and his fiancee tae return, so I can continue. Tavish should be here in another hour or so, as well. Molly has just made a fresh batch of shortbread, would ye care fer some?" Stuart asked him with a sly smile, knowing what happened the last time Argus had some in front of him.

"I'm going tae tell it today, but I'm not sure noo, if I want everyone tae hear it." he blurted out, stunning Stuart with his announcement.

"Argus, I beg ye as a friend, tae tell me what it is that ye know. Allow me the honour of saving face and that of my clan." he pled, his face one of growing concern.

Argus looked at his friend of many decades and knew how damaging his information could be to him. In his heart, he knew he didn't want to hurt Stuart, or diminish the clan at all, but his secret had to come out.

"Stuart, we've been friends since we were boys in school, so has Tavish. I would'ne do anything tae disgrace ye or the clan, but what I ha'e tae tell, will cause great concern fer us all. I want ye tae tell all the silly nonsense wi' the women and sex and get tae when Arabella and Braedon joined. All I'll say is this, something happened between two people that should'ne ha'e happened, nothing more." he divulged and saw Stuart's concern rise.

Argus could see it in Stuart's eyes and face that he knew, or at least suspected it.

"Ye know, don't ye, Stuart? Ye've known all along what happened, but ye treat it like it's just a rumour. It's not a rumour, it's true and I ha'e proof." Argus confirmed to him.

Stuart was held speechless momentarily, as the reality of things set in. He was about to tell what he knew himself, when Tom and Deb returned with Taylor and Lisa.

"Looks like it's time we let everyone know what the true history of the clan is, Stuart. Are ye ready tae tell, or should I?" he asked Stuart quietly, seeing the worry on his face.

The two couples entered the living room and greeted Argus, who returned the greeting 

with a smile and offered them to sit. Once everyone was comfortable, Argus spoke out.

"I was just saying tae Stuart, that I wanted tae tell everyone today, what really happened

back then. I won't kid ye's either. What I ha'e tae tell ye's will certainly shock everyone, just like it did tae me. I sat fer a week trying tae make sense oot of it."

"What have you got to tell, Argus? You make it sound deadly serious. What could you possibly tell us, that would have my cousin in such a state?" Taylor asked him, concern written on his face.

"I'll wait till Tavish shows up and we can continue wi' the story. He needs tae hear this as well. He'll ha'e tae re-write some history books, once he does." Argus told them.

As if by magic, Tavish arrived and was announced by Gordon. Tavish entered the room and saw the dower looks on everyone's faces.

"What's happened? Why the faces on e'eryone?" he asked.

"Argus is aboot tae come out wi' something and it's something that will change oor history as we know it, he says." Stuart told him.

"What is it, Argus? What's so flaming important, that ye've waited three days tae tell us?" Tavish asked him, wanting it out in the open to deal with.

"Gordon, could we all ha'e a cup of tea and I think it's time we talked of what really happened behind closed doors so long ago." Argus told them.

Gordon had a servant go and prepare tea for the guests and took his position at the back of the room again.

"So where should we start then, Argus?" Stuart asked him.

"I think ye should continue wi' the next night after the hand fasting. It's yer ancestor that has caused this tae happen, so it's only fair ye should tell it." Argus told him and looked at Tavish. "Yer's as well."

Tavish looked at Argus with suspicion and concern, wondering what was going on and why he was so adamant about keeping it secret. Stuart thought back to where they had left off and continued from the next day.

***************************

The next day after the ceremony, Garreth awoke with a start, having been awakened by a vivid dream of the Earl taking Therese away from him. His heart rate quickened with rage at the thought, as his mind continued to dwell on the dream. His head felt the effects of too much alcohol and it rebelled against him, making his head spin and feel dizzy. A pounding headache followed right after and Garreth railed at the heavens with his pain. His manservant, Keith, knocked and entered quickly, worried something terrible had happened.

"Yer Lairdship, are ye troubled? Can I bring anything tae settle ye, or is there a need for a physician?" he asked with worry.

"No, Keith, I'll no need a physician, but bring me something tae ease the pain in my head. I fear I drank too much after the Earl's men ruined my night wi' Therese. My Therese, I must know hoo she is. She was devastated by the news the dispatch said and so it would. That wee fuck of a man has caused enough pain in her life already and mine too. I'll no stand by and let him destroy all that is good and right." Garreth vented, as his head swam and pounded mercilessly.

Keith bowed and said he would bring something to ease his headache and ask the maids how Therese did through the night. Garreth thanked him, then held his head in his hands and tried to think of what to do. In two more days, he and Grayson, along with all the men, would be making their way to Tioram and begin battle preparations. His mother and Therese were sailing back to France to stay at her chateau, until the fighting stopped and she would return. Grayson was sailing Heather and her mother to stay at Dunluce Castle with Sorley's clan, where he knew they were out of harm's way. It eased his mind to know the ones he loved were protected, but the reality of the conflict spreading, was a distinct worry. 

Never had so many clans been involved in such a battle for dominance and control and now the balance of power was in jeopardy of shifting. Thinking seemed to make the pounding worse and he tried to banish thoughts from happening. Keith returned with a cup of herbal tea made with corriander seeds and had Garreth inhale the steam from it. Garreth sat on his bed and held the cup to his face and breathed in the fragrant, aromatic steam. After several minutes, the pain in his head started to ease and soon after was bearable enough to begin his day and deal with the issues at hand. He called for Keith to dress him and soon after, made his way to the hall, where many of the men were already sitting and eating. Garreth could see that he wasn't the only one to suffer from the drink. 

"Bring corriander tea fer anyone who suffers from the ills of drink." he called out to the kitchen staff.

Many eyes squinted in pain at the loudness of his voice, causing Garreth to look apologetic to them. Food was brought to him and he ate in silence out of respect to their needs and soon, every man had a cup of steaming liquid placed before him. They inhaled it and soon after, many said they were indeed feeling better. Garreth and the men soon returned to talk of battle and the plans they had to carry out before leaving Dunvegan. Braedon was sailing back to Stalker and preparing his castle for a possible siege, while the others would be re-joining their men and preparing for battle at Tioram. 

The ladies had awoke and convened in Therese's room, Heather having spent the night with Grayson. She had barely had a moment of sleep and looked the worse for it, her eyes puffy and swollen and her face no longer having a glow. No matter what the ladies did to console her, the fact remained that an evil, little man had something to keep her and her love, Garreth, apart. Until that challenge was usurped and made null and void, her joining with Garreth would always be in question. A knock at the door had Arabella bid entry. A maid entered and asked how Lady Therese was feeling. Laird Garreth was concerned about her condition. Arabella told her what to tell him and said they would be down soon to join them.

They helped make Therese presentable and soon joined the men in the hall. The men rose as they entered and Garreth came to his new bride and walked with her to her seat. Her eyes were filled with sadness and any little thing could set her off. Garreth's sympathies came to the fore and made an announcement.

"On this day, one that should be filled wi' great happiness, I look at my bride and see the sadness taking her. This should ne'er be. We should be enjoying oor bond and sharing in the joys of it. Wi' long thoughts on the matter, it is my decision tae write tae the king and church myself and declare oor joining tae be legitimate. I'll not wait until Wallace makes a case against us. He'll ha'e nothing tae defend his position and cede this madness at their rule. I won't let another day pass and see him cast such a dark cloud o'er us."

Therese looked at her mate and found the will to smile. She could feel in her heart that his letters would be heard and they would be given a clear path to be together, without persecution or impediment. She held her hands to him and Garreth took them in his, then smiled, seeing a sparkle of happiness in her eyes as she rose. She let the love in her heart come out in her newly learned words.

"Adhraim thu. Graim thu, gra mo chroi. Tugaim mo chroi duit go deo, mo chroi iomlan. Mo gealltanas siorai. Thabhafainn fuil mo chroi duit, a Stor." ( I adore you. I love you, love of my heart. I give my heart to you forever, my whole heart. My eternal promise. I give you the blood of my heart, Darling)

Garreth stood in awe at hearing her speak in Gaelic to him. He hugged her tightly to him and caressed her hair, before pulling back and looking into her eyes.

"A gra, tugaim mo chroi duit le gra go deo. Taim i ngra leat. Ta mo chroi istagh ionat." (My love, I give my heart to you with love forever. I am in love with you. My heart is within you.) he said to her smiling and in moments, their lips met and cheers rang out once more. 

They turned their kiss into smiles and soon last night's disastrous turn, was turned around and no more was said of the Earl's challenge. The day was spent enjoying their love once more, Grayson and Heather enjoying theirs too. As the men began congregating together, the women did as well. Heather found a moment alone with Therese and shared her intimacies with her.

"Therese, it was wonderful. I had Grayson do as ye said and it made me feel so incredible. My sweet friend, hoo can I thank ye, fer such a treasure ye gi' me. I know oor nights will be blessed wi' great joys, and I owe it tae ye fer sharing that wi' me. Grayson was so in awe of it all. I swear, I almost laughed because of the look on his face. I just hugged him close tae me and giggled happily. I could'ne do anything else. I will say this though, I'm glad we did it before he entered me, he's quite..." Heather faltered trying to describe him without saying it and held her hands up and showed her his length and girth with her fingers. 

Therese gasped at the thought and wondered about Garreth's size and her ability to take him inside her. "and I know it helped him get it inside me. But once he was, dear God the sensations he made in me wi' it. When we were done, the bed was soaking under me. I ha'e no idea what it was, but it was from me. We did'ne care, we were so happy t'gether."

"I am so happy for you, Heather. If he has done you no harm, then all is well. I wish to teach Garreth how to touch me like that. Were you nervous to be with him? When you gave yourself to him?" she asked, hoping to get knowledge beforehand on what to expect.

Heather looked around for anyone in earshot and whispered to make sure it wasn't heard.

"I was very shy at first when he opened my nightdress and bared my body tae his eyes. I know the marks are nearly gone and can'ne see them well, but it was something that I hated him tae see. He softly told me it was okay and he ne'er held it against me that it happened. So I just lay there and let him look at me, I had no idea how tae get started and I don't think he did as well. He looked like a wee boy wi' a new toy, but didn't know what tae do wi' it. He lay there naked, grinning like a fool at me, so I know he liked what he saw. So I took his hand and placed it on my breast. Ye'd think he'd died and gone tae heaven, the look on him." Heather and Therese giggled quietly, then she continued. "He squeezed it and played wi' it, but he had no idea what tae do wi' it, so I put my hand on his and guided him. I told him how tae touch me and as he did, his pride just started growing on its own. I felt it getting bigger against my leg, then started wondering just hoo big it was going tae get. It made me wonder afterwards, where does it all go tae once they're done? I moved my hand o'er and took it. My God, it felt like a piece of wood, it was so hard. I ran my fingers up and down it, that seemed tae please him greatly, so I did that fer a while. I could feel that sensation down there," she said pointing to her lap, "and I had tae get him tae touch that spot on me. I moved his hand down and placed it o'er me, then pushed his finger gently and moved it, so he was rubbing it right. I felt those sparks go off again and knew he had done it fer me. I was so thrilled inside. Once I calmed down a bit. I asked him tae take me. I felt like he would split me in two at first, but then it was wonderful and no more pain. I do think him doing that tae me first made it easier fer him tae get in me."

"That sounded so incredible. How beautiful and loving for you both. I hope my night is as good, when I give myself to Garreth. I wish to make him so very happy." Therese said smiling, but Heather could sense the worry in her face and words.

"Ye'll ha'e a wonderful night t'gether. Don'ne worry, Therese. He'll be happy wi' ye, I know it." she told her, holding her hand in comfort.

"I do hope so too. He is such a wonderful man and deserves it." Therese said, thinking of him.

"He is a good man. One of the finest men in the Highlands. My kin in Glengarry hear and know of him and speak of him well. As fer his looks, ye'll be hard pressed tae find another man better. He's been wanted by many a woman and none ha'e succeeded in getting him. There's many who would be jealous of ye, Therese and want yer place wi' him, but he chose ye and ye chose him, so the rest can spin and sputter away."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 41



Arabella and Kyla came walking over to them, so the new brides ceased talking of the nuptials, trying to look more innocent.

"Och, don'ne stop talking about the fun, just because we showed up. What? Ye think I don'ne know what two new brides would be sitting and talking aboot wi' such interest? I was a bride once too, so, what sordid details are we sharing? Kyla is getting joined after this war wi' Sloan, so she needs tae know a few things as well." Arabella chortled, exposing the unheard conversation.

Kyla blushed and giggled, getting the other two to laugh and soon the feminine side of loving their men was discussed. 

***************************

"No, I'm no going intae details, so ferget it." Stuart said, breaking off from the story, when he saw the looks on the women's faces, then laughed heartily. "Noo, that night did see events happen between Garreth and Therese, that did get written down in two diaries. Therese's and Arabella's. As it happened, Therese had problems accepting Garreth when he tried tae penetrate her, stop it Lisa," he told her, as she made expressions with her hands to denote Garreth's size, "and they did'ne quite succeed at christening the wedding bed. Therese felt she had let Garreth down, failed him as a wife and was in her chambers, when Arabella came to get her next morning". 

Arabella entered the chambers to find Therese sitting on the bed crying. She came to her and hugged her to her to comfort her.

"What is it, mon souer? Why are ye so troubled?"

"Oh Arabella, it was terrible. When Garreth tried to enter me, it was so painful, I cried out. No matter what he did, he couldn't enter me without great pain. I am no good to him, Arabella. How can I be a wife to him? How can I be a mother for him?" she said and started crying heavily again.

"Don't be like that, Therese. Of course ye'll be a good wife and mother. Tell me, what happened? What were ye like when he tried tae enter ye?" she asked her.

"What do you mean?" she sobbed out.

"Were ye dry? Were ye not ready fer him yet?" Arabella asked softly.

"I was dry. I could feel his... pulling at me. The more he pushed in, the worse the pain became. I tried to bear it, but it became too painful to let him." Therese confessed, thinking her friend knew what had happened.

"I thought so. A woman must be ready down there tae accept a man. It will cause great pain if yer not. There's nothing wrong wi' ye, my love." Arabella explained.

"Are you sure? Could it be something so simple?" Therese asked, finding a reason to stop crying.

"I know it's so, Therese, believe me, pet." she assured her.

"What can I do then?" she asked.

"Ye already know what tae do. Ye told Heather about it, ye told me about it. Ha'e him touch ye there first. E'en a bit of spit on his fingers will help. If yer readied, he'll slide intae ye easily." Arabella told her, seeing her find a hint of a smile in her hope. Arabella hugged Therese and assured her she would be wonderful for Garreth.

"How can you be so sure though? What if it doesn't work?" Therese began to fret.

"I know it'll work and tae make sure, I'll talk tae Garreth and let him know." Arabella assured her.

"NO, please do not tell him of this. I would be so ashamed, if he knew of this." Therese begged.

"My dear Therese, I can'ne stand by and let a beautiful love be ruined, because I could do something tae help it and did'ne. I've known Garreth since he was a boy. We've been life-long friends and ye know how my heart feels about him. Let me do this fer ye's. Let me gi'e ye's something fer yer joining, that will bring ye's true happiness." she told Therese and could see she understood her reasoning. "Noo, let's get ye cleaned up and looking like a proper lady. I'll talk tae Garreth and swear tae ye, ye'll no regret it." Arabella told her, her words taken at more than face value.

As the day wore on, Arabella found a moment alone with Garreth and took him aside in private.

"Garreth, my dear, sweet friend. I need tae talk tae ye about Therese and ye. I know about last night and how it hurt Therese when ye tried tae be with her." she divulged straight off, making Garreth nervous and feeling exposed. "She loves ye so much and wants nothing more than tae make ye happy. I know what went wrong and I want tae help ye, so it doesn't happen again. Trust me on this, Garreth, I'm a woman and know what to do." she spoke out bluntly and saw the look of embarrassment come across his face. 

"I ne'er want tae hurt her, Bella, ye know that. But please, tell me how tae be with her, so I don't ruin our love." Garreth admitted and asked her with hopeful tones in his voice.

"I ha'e something better than telling ye." she told him with a bit of a wicked smile coming out.

"What's that then?" he asked her.

"I'll show ye's. I'm coming tae yer chambers t'night and guide ye through it. Ye'll ne'er ha'e any worries about being wi' Therese e'er again. I promise." she said and saw the look of shock on his face.

"Och Garreth, I've seen ye naked already and her as well. There's nothing I ha'en't seen of either of ye's, What ye's need, is me tae guide ye when yer t'gether and show ye how tae please her. If ye don'ne, I understand, but ye face many nights of frustration and suffering if ye don'ne learn some things. Trust me Garreth, ye won't be disappointed if ye do. I'll teach Therese tae use her mouth on ye, like I did." she ended with that and saw his face turn to her, when she mentioned their prior sexual moments in her chamber.

Garreth stood in silence, pondering Arabella's offer. He knew in his heart he had no idea what to do to please Therese, or how to enter her without causing pain, but he wanted to desperately.

"I'll agree tae yer helping us, Bella. It's a strange thing ye ask of me, but I want tae make Therese happy in our bed and I admit tae needing help." he shyly confessed.

"That's good, Garreth. Don't worry. I'll come tae yer chambers when all ha'e gone tae their own beds. No one will know about this. It's oor secret tae share. Now, I'll leave ye and go find Therese and let her know it's alright and let her feel at ease. She's a lovely woman, Garreth, none finer and I owe it tae ye, take make sure ye find happiness wi' her."

Garreth understood Arabella's reasoning and accepted it, despite how strange it sounded to do. Once the meal was done and night came, the guests made their way to their rooms, or sat in the hall by the fire talking. Garreth lay in his bed naked, staring at the oak beams and tried to imagine what was going to happen. His thoughts were broken by a gentle knock at the door. It opened and Therese and Arabella came in. They were in their nightdresses and robes covering them and stood beside the bed.

"Are ye ready, Garreth?" Arabella asked him.

"Aye." he replied, looking at both of them and felt a bit over-whelmed by the sight of them.

Arabella stepped behind Therese and helped her take her robe off, then tossed it to the end of the bed. Then she took the hem of Therese's nightdress and slowly raised it, baring her friend. The patch of black, wavy hair came into view and Garreth gasped in his breath at seeing it. The dress rose higher and Therese raised her hands up, so Arabella could slip it over her head. Garreth saw the milky white globes of her breasts, with the pale, pink of her nipples capping them and felt his manhood respond. Therese stood bared before him and then Arabella put her hands on the bed robes and began pulling them down. 

Garreth halted her in his embarrassment, but she smiled and continued pulling. He let it go reluctantly and soon his rising member was exposed to the two women. Arabella took off her robe and had Therese climb on the bed with her, so they were on either side of Garreth. 

"Now, Garreth knows what this is like, but ye don't, Therese, so I'll show ye how tae please a man wi' yer lips and mouth. Take him in yer hand like this," she showed her how to hold it, "then pull back on it, so the crown is exposed. Now, kiss the end of it and then down the length." she explained and showed Therese how she did it. 

Garreth went rigid in seconds and Therese gasped in surprise, while Arabella smiled. She took Therese's hand and placed it over the turgid member, but didn't know what to do precisely, so Arabella placed her hand over hers and guided it along the length. The purpled head stood out against the pinky-white of his skin and Arabella went on stroking with Therese's hand.

"Now kiss him from the top to the bottom and back up again." she instructed.

Therese placed tiny ineffectual kisses along it and Arabella could see it had no effect. She leaned forward and asked Therese to show her love for him, but saw no change. Arabella pursed her lips and placed loving kisses to his pride and Therese could see the difference in his reaction. 

"Now, ye try it like that." she told Therese.

She watched and saw the difference in Garreth's reaction and knew she was putting feeling in it now. 

"Now take him in yer mouth and stroke him wi' yer hand at the same time."

Therese looked at Garreth's rigid manhood and was unsure what Arabella meant for her to do.

"Like this, my love. Watch." she told her and took Garreth's pride in her hand and placed her lips on the crown.

Her mouth opened and Therese watched, as Arabella's lips slid slowly down his shaft, until he was almost completely inside her mouth and then she withdrew it, wrapping her lips tighter as she did. Therese heard the blissful moans Garreth made and knew it pleased him greatly.

"Like that, Therese. Try that now." she instructed her.

Therese did the same thing, but found her gag reflex stopped her from going more than halfway. She tried, but it made her gag and withdraw.

"That's okay, ye don't ha'e tae take all of him in like I did. This is just tae get him wet, but ye can please him just doing this, can't she, Garreth?" Arabella asked him.

Garreth moaned at the sensations he was feeling and nodded his head. He was feeling his embarrassment fade and his trepidations of doing this were fading away as well. He'd never dreamed this possible, but living it, had him enjoying something uniquely special and intimate with Therese, he would enjoy many times to come.

"Garreth, gi'e me yer hand. I want tae show ye how tae please Therese and make her 

ready fer ye tae enter her." she asked him and placed his hand on her breast. "Feels nice, doesn't it? That wee nub she has, is her teat and if ye play wi' it gently, it'll bring great pleasure tae her." she told him.

Garreth took the tender bud in his thumb and fingers and squeezed it.

Therese yelped and pulled away from him.

"That's too hard, Garreth. Softer, like this." Arabella told him, then put her fingers over Therese's other nipple. "Roll it like this and touch it softly." she said and Therese's moans of pleasure let him know it was something wonderful. 

Garreth did it the way Arabella did and Therese held his hand to her and sighed with arousal. He marvelled at the way it swelled and rose from her mound. In a move of his own doing, Garreth raised himself and kissed the tender morsel. Therese moaned louder and held his head to her in response.

Arabella slid a hand between Therese's legs and felt if her opening was wet and ready for entry. The slick juices on her fingers let her know she was and moved back a bit further. She had Therese straddle his waist, but kept them apart.

"She's ready fer ye, but I want ye know what it feels like, so put yer hand down there, where her opening is and see what I mean." she instructed him.

Garreth looked a bit surprised, when his fingers slid over her hot sex. The wetness came away and he understood what Arabella was meaning about her being ready. Arabella reached down and took Garreth's member and rubbed the tip along the moistened folds, making his swollen tip slippery with her juices. She held it to Therese's opening and put her other hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her down onto him. Garreth felt himself sliding into her, spreading her apart as he filled her. There was no pain or crying this time, as he felt her ass come to rest in his lap. 

"Now, ride him up and down Therese and Garreth, let her take the lead and do this." 

Arabella instructed and shortly after, Therese was rising and falling slowly onto his shaft.

She knelt and watched the couple with extreme mixed emotions and then slid her own nightdress off and bared herself. She moved in close behind Therese and brought her hands around and placed them on her breasts. The hard points of her nipples pressed against her palms and she rubbed them in circles. Therese's ardour rose and her actions quickened in response. Arabella rolled the little, pink buds and drove her friend into ecstasy, as an orgasm washed through her. 

Garreth lay in awe-struck wonder, at what he was experiencing and seeing before him. He lay there looking at his new bride, the love of his heart, gliding smoothly up and down along his pride and his lifelong friend, teasing and eliciting greater feelings from her and now realized she was naked as well. He couldn't take anymore visual and physical stimulation and felt himself erupt into Therese. He thrust up hard, burying himself deeply, as he felt himself release his seed. Therese was driven beyond her control and succumbed to the passion. Her orgasmic tide washed through her, engulfing her in blissful ecstasy and felt herself releasing her own love back to him. 

Arabella sat back and looked at them, spasms and twitches, moans and grunts issuing from them and felt her own lustful needs rise in her. With little more need than her two hands, she rubbed her own moistened slit and tiny button of joy, as the other pinched and rolled her nipples. Therese lowered herself onto Garreth, keeping him inside her, then kissed his lips one at a time. Garreth returned her kiss and held her to him, as their joining oozed slowly from her.

Arabella needed no more visual than that to bring her to the brink of pleasure and cried out softly in hitches, as her orgasm took her over. Garreth and Therese stopped kissing when they heard the noises and looked at Arabella, three fingers buried deep inside herself, while her other hand rubbed briskly over her swollen nub. They were in awe of her ecstasy and watched, as her flow soaked into her hand and dripped to the bed below her. Arabella finally opened her eyes and saw that she was being stared at. Her face went crimson and her breasts flushed brighter than they were already, as she pulled her sodden fingers from herself and wiped them on her nightdress. 

"You have learned to do that very well, Bella. The first time you touched yourself, when we bathed at St. Pierre, I had no idea why the sisters would punish you so badly. Knowing the pleasure it brings you, I can see why you defied the sisters and continued doing it. I have not tried to do that to myself, but seeing how it brings such pleasure, I do wish to try." Therese said, breaking one awkward moment and making another for her.

"Ye knew I was doing it?" Arabella confessed.

"Yes, I did. You would wait until you thought I was asleep and I knew you did it, because you made these soft, little moans." Therese admitted, confirming the truth of it. "You always smiled more the next day when you did, so I knew it made you happy."

Arabella smiled through her embarrassment, not caring that they were all naked and discussing her sexual dalliances. 

"Well, it does make a body feel well after doing it. If ye want tae try it, it's not hard tae do. Once ye know where tae touch yerself and what pleases ye, ye can show Garreth and ha'e him do it tae ye. Then he can show ye what pleases him and do that fer him. And ye, laying there quiet as a mouse and no saying anything, what ha'e ye got tae say?" she pried, looking at Garreth lying back and looking all in wonder at what was being said.

"Bella, ye ha'e me at a loss fer words. I ha'e no idea what yer talking about and if ye'd explain it tae me, I could gi'e ye an answer."

"Men, all fighting and swords. No a right head among ye's. I'm talking about pleasuring each other, ye great twit. Do ye no want tae make Therese as happy as ye can?"

"Aye, of course I do." he shot back.

"Well, I'm trying tae show ye hoo ye can do that. Now, let's get ye's ready." she said and reached over and pulled Garreth's deflating manhood from Therese. 

He was coated thickly in their fluids and Arabella made a ring with her thumb and finger and scraped it from his shaft. They watched in awe as she licked some from her finger. 

"Och, it's not bad. It's quite nice in a way. Want tae taste?" she said and held it to them.

Garreth screwed up his face in disgust at the thought, but Therese dabbed her little finger in it daintily, then touched it to her tongue. She let the taste mingle for a few seconds and pulled Arabella's hand to her and sucked a finger clean. Garreth looked on in amazement, as she savoured the taste of their joining, a satisfied humming accompanying it.

"Try it, ye big sissy. Think fer a minute. Ye are made from this, so it can'ne be bad, or e'ery person alive would be bad. It's a bit heady, but very smooth, like cream." she said, coaxing him to taste it.

Garreth stuck his tongue out and Arabella wiped some on it. He let the flavour roll on his tongue and decided it wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

"See. Now, Therese, ye lie back and be at ease, oh, wait." she said and scooped away what was still oozing from between her swollen folds with her fingers. "all done. Ye two make quite a handful, don't ye?" she quipped, seeing the amount she held in her hand.

They turned red, seeing how abundant their loving flow was and watched as Arabella lapped a large amount up. Therese not to be left out, cleaned the rest from her hand with her tongue and then kissed it. 

Therese lay back as requested and Arabella had Garreth join her, kneeling beside her. Garreth kept looking at Arabella's bountiful breasts and she took his hand and put it on one.

"Happy? Does it feel nice? It feels nice tae me." she joked to him.

Garreth pulled his hand away and looked at Therese in embarrassment.

"They are quite beautiful, aren't they. Bella has been blessed with them since a girl. Mine seem to have stopped wanting to grow, but I do think hers are what a woman's breasts should look like. I was jealous of them and so wished mine were the same. These barely fill out my dress." Therese said, cupping her perky breasts and squeezing them gently.

"Och, don't say such nonsense. Garreth found them beautiful, didn't ye?" she asked him, 

getting a nod in fast response, "I like them as well. Ye look just as much a woman as I do, mon souer."

Therese flushed at the compliment and looked at Garreth. He nodded in agreement and without a thought, bent and kissed her breasts.

"They are beautiful, my love." he said smiling, a look of deep love in his eyes.

Arabella then led Therese into pleasuring herself and made sure Garreth paid close attention. When it came to touching her clitoris, Arabella parted Therese's folds and pointed out the tiny nub of flesh that gave so much pleasure. Therese rubbed it and dipped inside herself to coat her slick fluid over it. Garreth watched in all wonder, as Therese's arousal consumed her. Her fingers entered her and slid in and out, as her other finger rubbed quickly on her clitoris. Minutes later, wetness flowed from her and the aroma of her sex filled the air. 

"There ye are, Garreth. Ye now know what pleases her. Be patient and gentle wi' her. 

Trust in yer love of one another. Enjoy many nights t'gether learning what pleases ye. I'm going tae leave now and let ye's do what ye need tae do. Therese, watch him and learn what makes him happy. From here on in, ye'll ne'er ha'e a problem loving one another." she told them and started to pull on her soiled nightdress. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 41



Therese sat up and hugged her closely, resting her head on her shoulder. Arabella hugged her back, feeling her large mounds press against her friend's and engulf them. 

"I can never find a way to thank you for this, Bella. You have done for me something no other can do. I owe my happiness with Garreth to you." she told her, her lips beside her ear.

"I love ye,Therese. I want tae see ye happy. Now and fer always." she softly told her.

They faced each other and shared a loving kiss. Garreth could see how they felt and understood how two women could relate in such a way. He thought briefly of Grayson and had to laugh. The women broke apart and looked at him laughing.

"It was something I was thinking of. Not about ye's." he confessed.

"What was it, my heart?" Therese asked him.

"Grayson." was all he said and the women knew what he was thinking of.

They all laughed at the thought and then Arabella looked at Garreth. He looked in her eyes and could see the love for him there staring back. He reached for her and hugged her to him, feeling her breasts press into him. She hugged him in return and stroked his long, dark hair. She moved to face him and brushed a few stray locks back from his face.

"Look after her well, Garreth. Make her happy. She's yer heart's content and ye are hers. Treat her well and she'll be a wife tae ye, like no other could be." she told him smiling, but hints of tears crept into the corners of her eyes.

"I will, Bella. I promise. I hope yer life wi' Braedon is filled wi' just as much joy and happiness." he told her and moved to kiss her.

Arabella hesitated at first, but saw Therese smiling and leaned forward. She moaned 

when their lips touched and she hugged him tight. Garreth expressed more of his feelings for her and they kissed with as much passion as they dared. Arabella broke away first and quickly rose then turned back to them.

"Ye just get that big thing between yer legs going and show Therese what pleases ye. Ha'e fun ye two. Good eve and good morrow tae ye both." she said smiling and pulled her robe around her, before opening the door and peeking out, then exiting into the dark hallway.

***************************

Argus looked at Stuart with a hint of suspicion and Stuart caught it.

"What Argus? Is there something I just said that ye don'ne agree wi'?" he asked him.

"I don'ne know fer sure. Did Bella join wi' Garreth that night,or just Therese?" he asked.

Stuart knew what Argus was wanting to know and his face showed his knowledge of what had been unspoken of.

"They didn't do anything that night, other than what I told ye. It's in her diary and Therese's as well." Stuart said and saw Argus wasn't buying it.

"When did they do it then? Ye both know they did, so ye can both tell me when ye think it happened?" Argus blurted out and the room went silent, all eyes now turning to Stuart.

Stuart looked at Tavish, who lowered his eyes and nodded forlornly. 

"Aye,Tavish, I feel it's time we come clean and let them know what we think happened two days later." Stuart reluctantly spoke out, bringing audible gasps from the two couples and even Gordon cleared his throat. "There was an entry in Arabella's diary that we weren't sure of what it meant, but had oor suspicions. All it said was that fer one night, she was gi'en her heart's desire and would carry it wi' her e'ermore. As I said, it's ambiguous and clear at the same time, what she's talking about. She does'ne mention Garreth by name, but knowing about her love fer him, it's clear he could be taken as her desire. Maybe she was gi'en something as a gift, we weren't sure." he finished.

"But yer sure now, aren't ye? Ye know they were t'gether and had sex. I ha'e proof they did." Argus announced, making everyone look at him in awe of what he said.

"What proof could ye ha'e that would confirm Garreth and Arabella slept t'gether?" Tavish challenged.

Argus reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper.

"Ye know what this is, but I'll tell ye's just the same. Stuart, and ye tae Tav, remember I went tae Glasgow tae gi' them a sample of my blood fer the World Genome Project?" he asked them and both agreed they remembered. "I got the results back a month ago and I've been trying tae make sense of how the results could be what they were. It did'ne make any sense, until I went tae Armadale House myself and read Arabella's diary. I read that same entry and it all made sense once I did." he told them and unfolded the paper and placed it on the table for everyone to see. "It's my results. See down here where it says who I'm related tae. MacLeod's and MacDonald's. How can I be a MacLeod, if I'm a descendant of Braedon and Arabella's joining. I had them run it again at another lab and the results were the same." and he took out another piece of paper and unfolded it, tossing it atop the other one. "That made me wonder a bit, don't ye think? How could I be a MacLeod, if my ancestors were Stewart's and MacDonald's and not MacLeod and MacDonald? That entry in her diary coincides wi' the birth of Arabella's child, better than it does, about when her and Braedon joined. If ye add it up, she would have delivered at seven and a half months, not nine, like she did wi' Garreth's. Her and Therese's babies were only a week apart at birth, so it looks like Garreth was quite busy in his chambers, before he left fer battle. Anyone want tae add anything?" he ended with and looked back and forth between them for agreement, or opposition. 

"I ha'e no idea what tae say, Argus? Ye ha'e two reputable labs doing tests and the results are the same, saying yer a MacLeod. Yer theory on dates holds more weight that it was Garreth's child and not Braedon's and it makes more sense out of the entry, that she knew she was carrying his child too and that was the gift she would keep fere'er. I can only imagine it happened sometime after everyone left fer their destinations and Arabella stayed behind wi' Garreth. After the ceremony, there was ne'er a time when they could be t'gether. In his defence though, do ye blame him fer gi'ing in tae her? All that she's done fer him, how she's loved him endlessly all these years, their lifelong love as friends, she nursed him back from Death's door. In many ways, Garreth and Arabella should ha'e joined t'gether and not Therese. She would ha'e made him very happy and bore him many children. As it is, it seems Argus is a descendant of a 'love child'." Stuart said to Argus, then looked at Tavish.

The large, proud man looked downtrodden at the thought of his ancestor doing such a thing, when she had given herself to Braedon.

"Cheer up, Tavish, it's not that bad. I thought it was something worse myself." he joked, feeling relieved.

Little did Stuart realize what the implications were, of what Argus had just told them.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 42



Tavish did his best to accept the reality of the events that had transpired in centuries past and agreed Garreth and Arabella had produced a child together. Tom looked at Argus and then to his uncle, before speaking.

"Uncle Stuart, does this mean that you and Argus are related then?"

"So it would seem, Tom. I'll ha'e tae go through the lineage wi' him and see where he fits in, but it does look like we are a blood relation from the same heritage." Stuart told him, smiling at Argus.

"So, is it okay to get back to the story and see how everything turned out. I mean, I know how everything turned out, just all the interesting things that you all know about." Deb asked, hoping the telling wouldn't end because of the news.

"No tae worry, Deb, although I do think a wee toast in celebration is in order, tae welcome Argus tae the clan. Gordon, please pour everyone a glass and by all means, include yerself." he assured her and smiled to everyone.

Gordon quickly poured and served seven, small, dram glasses and waited with his for Stuart to speak.

"On this day, I wish tae welcome Argus Brandon Stewart tae the fold of the MacLeod's. From here on in, he shall be granted all privileges of a MacLeod and wear the tartans of the clan with pride. His name will be added to the lineage and bear his heritage. It is my honour and privilege tae now recognize and welcome, Argus Stewart - MacLeod. Tae Argus, Slainte." he toasted to him. 

Everyone cheered him and drank back the golden nectar, shouting "Dram bu Idich", then Deb still shivered violently at it going down, making everyone laugh at her mild discomfort.

"Shall we get back tae the task at hand now and let these two know their history, or do ye ha'e more surprises tae spring on us, Argus?" Stuart said laughing, but his face showed a hint of worry he didn't feel completely at ease yet.

Argus shook his head and waved Stuart off to tell the story, but in his mind, he knew he and Stuart had unfinished business, that would leave his new relative feeling more unsettled.

"Tavish, ye know more about what happened at Tioram once they all returned and the events that followed, so why don't ye take it from there." Stuart asked him and could see his spirit hadn't returned yet.

Tavish cleared his throat after downing another quick drink and thought for a moment, before he leaned back in his club chair and got comfortable.

"It was quite chaotic at Tioram. Ye've seen how big the island is and the surrounding area, so ye know how packed it must ha'e been wi' hundreds of men and animals. Kyla's brothers and all the Fraser's horses had been brought there, but the Fraser men stayed tae protect Stalker from attack. Sloan and the other leaders, Grayson, Garreth, Braedon and Glenn, went out on horseback and rode along the River Shiel, looking fer areas tae use Sloan's idea of pits wi' spikes and any other means of defence they could think of."

************************

The five riders rode slowly along the river's edge, surveying the land where attacking forces would have to cross open areas of land. The mouth of the river, where the shallowest crossing was, afforded horses a place to cross and then make their way to the castle. Looking to the surrounding trees, they discussed where to position men and where to dig, so the riders would have little, or no choice but ride into them, or be taken out by arrows. They marked the area with piles of rocks where pits should be dug and mounted again. The group rode on and saw that a great vantage point of ambush lay at the small bridge crossing the river.

There was no chance of getting men and horses, let alone artillery across, in an

efficient manner. They would have to split their forces and have the men cross at the bridge, while the cavalry crossed at the rapids. This gave them a decisive weakness to use against them. The trees provided ample coverage for hiding men in and the bush was thick and dense, that men could hide under it close by for a surprise attack. The dense growth in the forest could hide a hundred men lying in wait on both sides of the river, blocking off a retreat and ensnaring them in a gauntlet. 

Any that made it across and tried to make it towards the castle, would find another series of pits to avoid and even more men waiting. The riders headed on to Salen Bay, where any arrival of troops by sea would come in. Grayson looked down the coast to the sea and made plans to have clan in the area keep watch for any boats or men arriving. They rode back to Tioram, the thoughts of its defence well established that they were secure.

High on the ridge of mountainous hills above them, a small band of men watched them carefully, studying everything they did. Captain George Montrose of Edinburgh led the band of MacRae men back to their camp, high up near Ben Laga by Loch Nr, taking time to write in his journal everything he saw the MacDonald's doing. Anything they planned, he would have a counter to it without them knowing. He smiled to himself, feeling he would be the turning point in the battle and make an statement worth advancement in his career. 

At Dunollie Castle, two well-armoured soldiers stood in front of the combined armies of MacDougall and Douglas clansmen, looking at them carefully and judging them for their worth. MacRae stood with them and wore a self-assured smile his new captains would be pleased to lead his men. Douglas Wallace had come through on his word and provided him with three well-trained leaders. All three had been in several battles each and had led men into victories. His hopes were they would do the same this time, too. He hand-picked his scout force himself from his own clan, as well as the others. Captain Montrose had served on land and sea, granting him the task of leading the advance team. 

They would provide him with the intelligence gathered from their mission and make the four mile march to Tioram quick, avoiding traps that might be set. The time spent training the men had paid off and both clans had put forth an army of soldiers the new captains were surveying with interest. For all their lack of proper soldiering, the men followed commands quickly and accurately, They were practising fight moves with their swords and lances, while another group was practising attacks on birlinns. The men were divided by their abilities to sail, ride and shoot arrows. Every man was trained in armed combat, as well as tactics in their chosen field. Stockpiles of arrows were made by the women and elderly, while the children gathered branches and feathers for the arrows and wood to build fires, hot enough to melt metal for the tips. 

Long shafts, eight feet long, were whittled at the tip into sharp points. Lances to charge with and disrupt the front lines, before drawing swords and axes to work through the ranks. They would also use them on the rider's horses and gore the chests of the first ones, stopping the charge and causing the ones behind to crash into them and end the chance to penetrate the lines. 

James stood proudly on the castle grounds, assuring himself that he was prepared to do battle and win. Andrew came and stood beside him, looking at his clansmen and knew MacRae's decision to replace him with Captain Graham Adamson was the right one. The captain had Andrew's men drilling and training like the King's soldiers and he knew in his heart, he could never have done what a trained soldier like the captain had done.

James cast his eyes towards the Douglas encampment and wondered to himself how 

Kirklan was holding up. He wasn't sure why he spared the young man's life, but to do it 

twice, made him spend a moment to ponder the thought. The x he made on his chest, would either be a reminder to know his place, or instill a vengeance in him that wouldn't end, until he himself made it end. He hoped he wouldn't have to, he liked the boy's spirit and tenacity, but he wouldn't hesitate to bury his skean in his heart should he try to come at him again.

"Malcolm, yer men are looking good. They'll do well in the fight. They listen tae Adamson and do as he says and that'll make the difference in winning or losing." he said, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"I agree, James. They've ne'er looked so battle ready before, e'en wi' my brothers leading them." he replied smiling."I can't wait tae see MacDonald's face when he sees this army coming up the Shiel tae Tioram. If they have any sense, they'll surrender and leave wi'oot a fight, or else die where they stand." he gloated, feeling a sense of power from the sight.

"Ye don't understand, Malcolm. I don't want them tae leave. I want them all dead. I don't want a MacDonald left tae raise a sword against me, or my clans. If they stand wi' MacDonald, they die wi' MacDonald. When this is o'er, there'll be a new power in the highlands, me. When I'm done, I'll control the entire coast and islands of the highlands. Any clan that opposes me, will be erased from the land. I'll fight fer King and country, but it'll be my country he rules. Now do ye understand, Malcolm?" he spoke, with an authority the younger man submitted to. 

The bravado left Malcolm and replaced it with a new sense of place. One that served the man beside him. He began to understand how he would be a puppet chieftain to him, doing his bidding. He no longer felt the sense of control he just had and bowed his head in submission, then nodded he understood.

"That's a lad." he said and patted his back, before walking towards Adamson to go over the plans.

Malcolm stood with little of the pride he once had, then turned to go into the castle and begin his life of servitude. Dunollie might be held by the MacDougall's, but it was ruled by James MacRae.

Stalker was on high alert for attack night and day, as Braedon's birlinn made shore. Climbing down, he greeted his two sons and Foster and his son Loman. His first concern was answered before he asked.

"Stalker is secure and men are stationed tae the north and south of us. We ha'e e'ery man armed and ready tae fight. The Fraser's ha'e been most gracious tae ride as far north and south as they can, tae see what MacRae and his men are doing. They should be back the morrow wi' news. They're good fighters, Braedon. They know a great many tactics, some a bit brutal from what I heard." Foster told him.

"Aye, Foster. I was just listening tae Sloan describe a few of his plans fer defence around Tioram. Speaking of Tioram, I ha'e news. Arabella has taken me back and we're tae be wed."

"Braedon, great news that ye've brung. I could see it in yer eyes that yer weight was lifted, now I know why." Foster joked.

"I'm very happy fer ye, Father. I know Lady Arabella will make ye a fine wife." Coll told him, and held his hand to him.

Braedon looked at him and smiled happily, before taking his hand and pulling him into a hug.

"Will ye be just as happy if we ha'e another child t'gether?" he asked his son, and saw the look on his face.

"Only if it's a brother. I want tae show him how tae fight wi' a sword and sail the lochs, play the games that Cameron played wi' me." he said, surprising him,

"It makes my heart glad tae hear ye say that son. How about ye, Ewan? Alright if ye get another brother?" he asked his youngest.

"Aye, Da. That way I won't be the wee one and always get picked on." he blurted out and everyone found a moment to laugh, before heading into the castle to discuss more serious matters.

From this point on, every clan was preparing fer battle. Therese and Anne went tae France and Julia and Heather went tae Ireland tae Dunluce. Donan, Tioram and Knock were all prepared fer attack. One event that did turn the tide in the MacDonald's favour, happened a week before the battle began. As I said earlier, Grayson was going tae ha'e the clans in the area keep watch o'er the entrance tae Loch Sunart from the sea, or the Sound of Mull. A crofter had spotted the small band of MacRae men trailing the MacDonald men preparing the traps. He watched where they rode back to and made his way to Tioram to warn Grayson.

He gathered thirty men on horseback and swarmed up the mountain to Loch Nr. The small fire gave away their location and they moved in with stealth until they were almost upon them. The men were slaughtered where they sat and never stood a chance of defence. So the intelligence that Captain Montrose had gathered, would surely ha'e gi'en MacRae the advantage and used the traps against them. But MacRae ne'er knew what happened tae his captain, or his men when he landed, so he was faced with the unknown." Tavish ended with and stopped for another drink. 

The previous discussion of infidelity seemed to vanish from their thoughts, but Argus knew he would be discussing it later with Stuart in private. Stuart may not realize it now, but hopefully the reality of it would become clear and understand the seriousness of its implications.

An announcement of guests had Stuart leaving them to welcome the new arrivals. Stuart's cousin's David and wife, Roberta, his brother Mark and wife, Gillian and their son, Sean, had just flown in from Los Angeles for a holiday and were coming to visit for the day. Introductions were made and soon the party was moved to the salon, where more comfortable seating for everyone was. Once refreshments were served and everyone was comfortable, the discussion of the story telling and the upcoming ceremony of Tom and Deb was brought up. The idea of learning some history and getting to see the artifacts that were shown the other night, had the new guests excited that they had interrupted it and had a chance to get in on it.

"Tavish was just starting tae talk about the upcoming battle between the clans back in fifteen eighty-nine, when James MacRae was making a bid tae take o'er the highlands. It's too bad ye's ha'e missed it so far, I'm told it's been quite good. Tavish, Argus and myself, ha'e been gi'ing everyone a taste of highland living back then. I think ye's ha'e learned more than ye thought ye would, ha'en't ye, Tom and Deb?" Stuart asked.

"No kidding, Uncle Stuart. It's been incredible. It really has. I know more about my clan than I ever imagined and there's so much more to come. To be honest, before all this started, I was in dread of knowing what my clan had done, but after hearing how everything was back then, they weren't that much worse than any other clan wanting a place to live. I'm not too thrilled to know James MacRae is an ancestor of mine, but I'm sure many MacRae's were good people and did good things." Deb said openly, letting them know she represented the enemy in the story.

"There are many MacRae's that have done great things, Debra. I suggest you go on-line and do a search on the MacRae clan and go and see some of the things you find out about them while your here.`Mark told her.

"That's a great idea, Mark, thank you. We can do that tonight, Sweetheart." she said to Tom.

"Sure can, Babe. We can rent a car and go see anything that looks good and isn't too far away." Tom told her, smiling in a way that let her know he wasn't going to drive for hours to see something. 

"You don't have to go any further than Eilean Donan, to find out your history, Debra." Mark's wife, Gillian told her.

"That's the castle in the story Uncle Stuart, Tavish and Argus are telling us about. I think we should just go there tomorrow Tom and check it out." she said excitedly, confirming her thoughts her clan had some redeeming moments in them.

"What story are you telling them, Stuart?" David asked his cousin.

"I, along wi' Tav and Argus, ha'e been going over the MacLeod history back when Garreth ruled here, because Debra is a MacRae and did'ne know about her heritage. She saw a few things that worried her and wanted tae know about them. We've gone through most of what happened before the Battle of Shiel and the Battle at Eilean Donan. We were just a few days away before it started, when ye's came." he told him.

"Would you mind if we sat in and listened. I loved that period and would love to now more about it. You were a history professor, weren't you, Tavish?" he asked Stuart and Tavish.

"Aye, fer twenty five years at Glasgow University." Tav replied.

"Yer more than welcome tae join us, if that's yer choosing. Things ha'e been known tae get a wee bit graphic," Stuart told them, glancing at Argus, who shrugged his shoulders, "but I think ye'll find it interesting. If yer all ready. Tavish, would ye continue where ye left off." Stuart asked him.

"Aye then. I had just told them about the advance party MacRae had sent, tae spy on the MacDonald's being wiped out, so MacRae had no idea of the traps that were set. When Captain Adamson landed at Salen Bay, he marched his men up to Ardshealach through the valley and on to to Acharacle. The whole time they were marching, the MacDonald's were following them along the ridges on both sides on horseback, out of sight. The trap was waiting for them at the Blain Bridge and they marched into it, just as Grayson hoped they would."

***************************

MacKenzie proudly led his newly trained Douglas clansmen along the peaceful scenery, looking back at his men. He turned to Adamson and boasted about his men to him, getting a nonplussed look in return.

"Do ye no think my men make a fine army tae lead, Captain Adamson?" he asked him.

"Yer men will do, but I'm more concerned wi' not ha'ing any word from Montrose. Not one man came tae meet us at Salen Bay and nothing from them so far. I want tae call a halt and go no further till I've had a chance tae scout out the area ahead." he told MacKenzie and raised his hand to halt. 

The horses and men came to a stop where Loch Shiel emptied into the head of River Shiel. Adamson looked around at the land and up into the high hills surrounding them, looking for signs of enemy movement. Grayson and the men on both sides knew he would do that and had rode away from them, taking cover behind the trees. Adamson sent a scout ahead to scan the area and make sure the way was clear.

The clansman rode up to the point where the bridge started and looked around. Seeing nothing to alarm him to trouble, he rode on over the bridge slowly. He scanned the area, looking in the trees and anywhere he could. Feeling there was no danger, he rode back to the captain. Adamson gave the order to march the men over the bridge, while he led the cavalry around the forested area and down towards the crossing at the rapids. MacKenzie had them line up in twos to speed the time and the mass of men were soon in a column, marching towards the wooded area. Grayson and his men were on the west side of the hills, staying above the cavalry just out of sight, riding on the far side of the foothills. 

Robert MacDonald was on the east side with another thirty riders, waiting on the far side of the clearing just before the bridge. The plan was to wait until half the men were across and then divide them by ambush. The ones that hadn't crossed would be caught in a crossfire of arrows, slaughtering them where they stood. The other half would be driven from them, into the waiting pits and Donnie and his men, with axes and swords, should any make it past them.

Adamson told Mackenzie to march the men quickly for the two mile journey to the rapids, where he'd meet up with them, before making the charge to the castle. MacKenzie nodded and went back to the head of the column and started the march towards the bridge. Hundreds of MacDonald clansmen were positioned under cover in the thick bushes and up in the trees, bows at the ready, waiting for the signal. 

Two hundred men began making their way over the bridge at a fast pace and into the dense bush on the other side. The narrow pass between the trees made it difficult for the men to pass with all their weapons and armour and created a bottle neck that began slowing up the men behind. They broke formation to get through, disrupting the flow behind, causing too many men on the bridge to mass together. MacKenzie did his best to get the men through quickly and continue to the clearing and then wait. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 42



A shrill whistle rang out, startling the men, then a hundred whistling arrows started finding their marks and felling them. The dead started causing the others to fall and stumble, confusion setting in to the others and no sense of order or direction befell everyone. In seconds, another volley whistled to their destinations and increased the confusion to one of survival only. Men tried getting across the bridge, while others in the front wanted to go back. The serene, peaceful setting, became one of carnage on a mass scale, as arrows continually rained down on the Douglas'. The men that were still in the clearing, turned and ran from the tiny peninsula to seek protection in the open ground. They collected together and set up for a defence from the forested area, never expecting a charge of riders coming from behind them. Moving along a treeline out of view, Robert had made his way along the shore, to a point only three hundred yards away from them.

Before the men could make a formidable defence, Robert called the charge and broke from cover. The clansmen knew they didn't stand a chance and ran from the charging attackers. Without the knowledge of their locations, the men ran towards the pits, just as they planned. No one understood at first, as the ground started swallowing up the men in front, as the pit's coverings fell in and the men were impaled on the spikes. The need to get away from the attacking horses, had the men running for their lives and falling in behind. 

Of the hundred plus men that made it from the ambush, sixty were down without a sword or axe being swung. The men that made it past the pits, were soon set upon by the riders and bodies and heads were cleaved, as others fell under the trampling hooves, their heads and bodies smashed in and crushed. Once the riders had passed the remaining men, they turned and charged again, finding little or no resistance or fight. The last of them were quickly hacked down and left to die where they were. Robert and his men rode towards the bridge, where the slaughter was still going on. 

The peaceful river was littered with bodies floating in the water, which was now stained red with their blood. The survivors made it past the gauntlet to the clearing, only to find the pits that were dug there. MacKenzie was the first one to fall in and feel the spikes pierce his body, as others fell on top of him, driving him further on them.

Donahue's were waiting in the trees with arrows and dropped any lucky enough to avoid falling in. Donnie came out from the cover of the bush and looked at the men who lay dead and dying on the ground and in the pits. He looked at them suffering in agony and ran his sword through several of them, enjoying seeing them die at his hand. Robert and the riders broke through into the clearing towards them, along with the archers following behind them on foot. 

"We must make haste fer the rapids and gi'e aid tae the men. Laird Grayson will be attacking from the rear, cutting off retreat and driving them to the men. Donnie, ride wi' me. The rest, make fer the rapids wi' all haste." Robert yelled out to them and helped Donnie up behind him. 

The archers and foot soldiers were running north behind the horsemen, the mile to the rapids being made in quick time. Adamson saw the rapids up ahead and slowed their pace, the hundred riders bunching closer together to make the narrow crossing. As soon as Adamson's horse made the water, Grayson gave the call to charge. The attacking clans had no idea what was coming behind them, the noise of the rapids drowning out the sound of the MacDonald's horses. Adamson had made it across and turned to watch the men, when he saw Grayson and his men charging over the rocky terrain towards them. 

The area they were in gave them no way to fight, so Adamson yelled to make for the open area and assemble for the attack. Quickly the riders made their way across and dashed for the open area. As they made it into the middle, riders started to drop into the pits, as they started to amass. Grayson kept the charge coming, making the last riders hurry across and some horses losing their footing and toppling into the rapids, getting swept away from the others. 

Adamson had no idea what was happening, as his horse fell backwards, throwing him onto the spikes. They gored his body, but not enough to kill him. He opened his eyes in time to see his mount coming towards him, unable to move out of the way. The half ton of horse fell on him, impaling him further down on the spikes, as his animal itself was killed by the numerous spikes penetrating it. Adamson's face was a permanent look of shock, even after he died, his eyes wide open in horror.

The others saw Adamson drop and then saw what he had fallen into and quickly looked underfoot where they were standing. They yelled to each other to watch for the pits, but more and more were dropping, as they tried to get into a defensive line. They drew their swords and rushed towards the advancing line, as they started crossing the rapids, Tormod heading straight for Grayson. Grayson saw him coming and was ready with his sword. They both swung at each other, blades colliding in ringing steel, but Grayson continued his swing and dragged the blade's edge over the horse's back flanks, making his stumble in shock. Tormod was thrown off and tumbled hard on the ground. As quick as he could, he stood and turned towards Grayson, but Grayson had already spun and was coming at him. Grayson's blade went through the light armor and into the chest and heart of Tormod. Grayson pulled the blade out, slicing through his organ and flesh, darkening the blue of his shirt, with the red of his blood. 

Grayson only looked back long enough to know his sword had done its job and was now wielding it at more riders, confused to know which way to go, as men with lances, poured from the bushes and charged them. Riders were gored and driven from their mounts, unable to defend themselves from the points. The men finished them off with sword and axe, staining the ground crimson.

The MacDonald clansmen quickly gathered the horses and increased their cavalry to a more sizable force. They rode to Tioram, cheering in victory, as the first bodies of the massacre at the bridge, started to float by. The water ran red with their blood, as it 

continued to drain from their bodies, The idyllic scene at Blain Bridge was one of ghastly horror, as bodies lay piled in heaps on it. The dead were strewn around both sides of the bridge, some still barely alive, but left to die in agony. The fields to the west of the bridge, were scattered with bodies, the birds already feasting on their remains, stripping bits of flesh from them and arguing over the carcasses. Grayson rode to the gate of Tioram, where Arabella was impatiently waiting for word.

"We slaughtered them, Bella and we did'ne lose a man. Sloan's plan worked better than hoped and killing that advance army up in Ben Laga saved us from ambush from them. If they had gotten word back tae the forces coming in, they would ha'e known our plans and countered them. They were led by another Captain, who by the looks of him, was serving under another Laird. MacRae, or the Earl, has brought in men of rank, tae lead the armies. There was no sign of MacRae, or the MacLean's, so it's my guess they've sailed tae Donan, fer the attack there." Grayson told her, showing his concern for what might be already happening there. 

As they walked into the courtyard and up the steps, Bella let him know her concerns.

"We need Sorley and Colla tae make sure they don't make it there. Garreth knows where tae attack from, should they sail intae Alsh. It's the land forces that we don't ha'e enough of. If the army makes it tae Donan and joins wi' them, we'll ne'er be able tae win. As soon as we can, we need tae sail and ride fer Donan and strengthen our hold there. I can only hope we don't arrive too late, brother." the look of dread clear in her eyes, that it might be as she thought.

"I'll ha'e the birlinns loaded and ready tae sail. The riders can make fer Donan wi' all haste and ride until they get there. If we're in luck's favour, we will arrive before their force does and hold them off. If not, it will be a bloody battle that will be hard fought tae win." his eyes showing more concern for the possibilities he faced. "I'll ha'e Robert lead the riders, while I go wi' the birlinns and join up wi' the others. If all goes well, we can hold them off on the water, while the cavalry can come up from behind. I'm still concerned about another raid on Tioram, that could'ne be the only attack they had planned, unless MacRae wanted us here and not at Donan. He only had the Douglas' coming up the Shiel. If that was his attack on us, it was'ne near enough men tae do any harm tae us. He must ha'e his main forces going fer Donan." Grayson told her, both agreeing with their eyes, that they had been played by MacRae, to defend Tioram and leave Donan with less of a defence in an attack.

As the galley carrying Therese and Julia sailed south to France, one of the crew spotted tall masted ships approaching from the south towards them. Unable to determine the country of origin, they made their way to shore for safety, should it be English and attack them. Just as the ships were clearly visible, everyone was making for land and cover. Therese turned to see them and saw the French flags waving from the mast.

"They are my ships. They are French ships coming for me, I know it. Quickly, we must get to them and tell them of our news." she shouted out excitedly.

Everyone quickly returned and boarded again, as the men turned and rowed and sailed back, trying to catch them. It wasn't long before the lighter, faster galley caught up and came along side. The captain was called for and Therese shouted as loud as she could for them to stop and let her aboard. Once she announced who she was, the sails were ordered to be lowered and the ships slowed enough for Therese to be assisted aboard the French warship. The captain bowed to her and Therese quickly asked to go to his cabin. 

Once inside, she informed him of everything that was happening back at Castle Tioram

and Eilean Donan. He was concerned for her well being only and had no orders to engage in battle, unless set upon by the Earl's forces. Therese explained that she was now married to Garreth and that he was now an ally of France and must be protected as well. The captain understood the position of things and gave orders to sail for Tioram. Therese shouted from the deck, down to the galley what was happening and said she was returning with her countrymen to defend Garreth and Eilean Donan. 

She begged the clansmen to take Julia to her chateau and safety and after much deliberation, they obeyed and reluctantly disobeyed Garreth's orders and sailed to France without Therese. The sails were raised and the large ships were soon making their way north to Tioram.

**************************

"Now, the one thing that everyone had forgotten about at that point, was the English frigate, HMS Justice and the MacLean birlinns were moored on the north of Tiree and ready to attack Tioram and Knock. Justice would pound Knock with cannon fire until they surrendered, or perished with the castle, while the birlinns went into Loch Moidart and used their light cannons to blow open the gates of Tioram, while the ground forces attacked from land." Tavish explained.

"Where are all the Irish soldiers that came, Tavish?" Taylor asked, not hearing anything about them so far.

"Some of the Irish were used at Tioram as archers and others were in birlinns, waiting on the far side of the big island. They were waiting fer boats tae come in and attack. Once they did, there would be no escape from the loch, which is what happened, so let me finish up wi' what happened at Tioram and then Stuart can tell ye's of what happened at Donan. I believe Argus has something tae add from the Stewart side of the battle as well. It was Braedon and his men that made it possible tae defeat the birlinns and not sustain any more damage tae Tioram than what they did. So, Grayson and Arabella were busy getting men and horses intae the galleys and birlinns, when the call of sails rang out from the lookout."

*******************

Three birlinns sailed up the south channel, targes shielding the men from arrow attack, while small cannons were aimed to starboard, ready to fire upon command. Men left their loading duties and took up their positions. The lookout fired the same number of lit arrows, as there were boats, letting the men on the island watching, know that three boats were coming. The men were boarded and oars set, ready to attack, once the birlinns passed the castle and readied to come about and attack again. 

As the boats passed, the shout was heard and cannon fire bombarded the thick walls. No great damage was done by the small shot used, but they were aiming for the gate to blow it open for the forces to attack from land. The three birlinns passed by, heavy arrow fire darkening their sight, until they were out of range. The boats came about quicker than expected and didn't fall into the trap. O'Bannion was first to row out in pursuit, giving chase to the trailing birlinn. The Irishmen rowed hard, as the light wind filled the sail, trying to get closer. 

As the boats passed again, their cannons roared and shots pummelled the gate area heavily. The second boat's shot smashed the heavy, oak gate and splintered the wood as it passed through. Cheers rang out, as they succeeded in breaching the gate. One more pass and a well placed shot would finish the job and they would land and join forces with the ground troops and storm the castle. Arrows were lit and archers stood at the bow of the O'Bannion birlinn, taking aim at the broad sail cloth in front of them.

"Let yer arras loose, men." Liam O'Bannion roared out.

Smoking trails followed the arrows, as they found their mark and the sail was soon 

engulfed in flames, burning pieces shredding off and dropping on the men. Another volley of arrows followed, dropping men quickly, as they tried to douse the flames. O'Bannion kept the assault going on the last birlinn, until there was no one sailing it anymore and it drifted wildly off course. Donnie Donahue ordered his birlinn to follow and soon a chase was underway to catch the remaining two, before they escaped out the loch and into open waters, where catching them was near impossible. As fast and hard as they could row, they knew they would never reach them in time and were resigning themselves to a long chase, when coming around the point from the south end, was the Stewart's. 

***********************

"Want tae take it from there, Argus? If ye'll excuse me, I'll take a wee mo' fer the cause." he chuckled, as he rose and left to relieve himself.

"Aye, off ye go then." Argus told him smiling, then turned back to everyone. "Okay, Braedon. Aye. He had sat in wait at Eilean Musdile, watching fer the MacLean's tae sail up. He knew Stalker wasn't going tae be attacked, when scouts rode back and informed him that the Douglas' had sailed undercover of darkness for Tioram. He had amassed his men and birlinns, then lay in wait for them to sail past. Blain Fraser stood beside the remains of his clan's pyre, watching for sails coming down the coast and when he saw them, he ran down the steep hillside as fast as he could and boarded the birlinn. They waited for them to enter the Sound of Mull and make their way north. Once they reached the end, Braedon would sail out and follow them, hoping to ambush them from behind and catch them unaware."

*********************

Braedon had just come to the south point of the channel into Moidart, when the attacking boats were making a break for open water. Unable to manoeuvre into an attack position, Braedon did the next best thing. As the first birlinn started to pass in front of him, he had his men row hard and use every bit of sail for speed, as he headed straight amidships for the birlinn. There was no escape from the crash and men scrambled out of the way screaming, as the prow rode up and over the side of the birlinn. Splintered chards of wood flew everywhere, finding their way into the bodies of the men inside. Dozens were taken out immediately and as soon as they had a chance, archers were up and firing into the men below them, as the birlinn started to submerge below the water. A boarding party made their way over the side and the remaining men were soon slashing and stabbing the remaining men aboard.

Iain MacLean saw the carnage and bloodshed in front of him and ordered his boat to stop and surrender. The sail was dropped and oars stilled along the sides, as the O'Bannion's and Donahue's pulled along side, arrows and swords all pointing fiercely at them.

"I surrender tae ye. Spare our lives, I beg ye." Iain pleaded to them. 

"Pass yer weapons tae us and then sail back tae the castle. I'll let Laird Grayson decide yer fates. Now, pass them o'er and be quick. One of ye's makes a wrong move and ye'll all die where ye stand." Liam shouted at them.

Donnie made his way to Braedon's birlinn and threw a line to them. The men quickly tied it to the stern post and Donahue had his men row hard to pull the birlinn off the remains of the other one. The crunching and cracking of wood was loud, as the birlinn was pulled off.

"Do ye ha'e any damage?" Donnie asked Braedon.

"Nothing some patching won't fix. Let's get back tae Tioram and deal wi' these men and I'll be ready tae sail in less than an hour's time." he shouted back. 

Braedon's men released the tow line and the survivors were picked from the sea. Soon all boats were heading back into Loch Moidart towards the castle, a victory in saving Tioram being celebrated among the men.

Arabella had watched with her heart in her throat, as she saw Braedon's boat crash into 

the other one. She was waiting at the shore for them to arrive, hoping nothing had 

happened to him. Once the boats were beached, clansmen swarmed the MacLean birlinn, surrounding it with spears and swords. Iain jumped down and immediately knelt before Arabella, as he saw Sloan making his way through with his sword raised to strike.

She saw where Iain's terror lay and turned to see Sloan approaching.

"Hold yer sword, Sloan. I need tae talk tae this man before any decision tae kill him is made. I know yer justification fer slaying him where he kneels, if it comes tae pass it is so, it'll be by yer hand, I swear. Right now I need what's in his head, before ye take it off."

She looked at her once family member, trying to decide his fate. Grayson held the point of his sword under his chin and made him rise to face him. He looked into Iain's eyes, letting him see he was the hand of justice to decide his fate. Iain looked back at him and then to Arabella. Something in his heart came to the surface and he began to weep.

"I beg ye tae spare me, Arabella. I'm ashamed tae stand before ye now, knowing we were once family and kin tae one another. I only wanted tae gi'e my clan a land of their own again." he said sobbing through his tears.

Grayson understood Iain's reasoning for what he did, but his actions needed to be accounted for.

"Ye turned against us Iain. Ye abandoned us and took up wi' MacRae instead. Why should we spare yer lives? Ye joined wi' him in slaughtering a clan of o'er a hundred lives of that man there, Sloan Fraser. Ye attacked us and killed three men. How do we make ye answer fer their deaths?" Grayson asked him, still pointing his sword at Iain's throat.

"If my death will repay the lives my men ha'e taken, so be it, but spare my men, their families await them and I'll ha'e them swear before ye now, that they'll ne'er raise arms against ye's again." he pled.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 42



Grayson looked deeply into his tear stained eyes, then turned to Arabella and walked away from him to talk quietly.

"What shall we do wi' them, Bella? Spare their lives and take Iain's, or kill them all where they stand?" he whispered to her.

Arabella looked into her brother's eyes and then to Iain. She was torn between her past closeness to Iain, when she was married to Logan and the attack he had just led. A thought came to her, as she weighed one option against another. She walked back to him and looked him squarely in the eyes, wanting to see the truth in his words when he answered her question.

"Iain, yer were once my kin and cared fer my clan. Is it in yer heart tae see yer error and join wi' us again? Swear yer allegiance tae us and join wi' us. Fight against MacRae and we'll spare yer lives, if ye show a truth tae yer words and fight wi' honour fer us, What say ye tae my offer?" Arabella asked him, hoping he would accept, so she wouldn't have to kill her kin. 

SIoan looked at Arabella in stunned amazement, hearing the offer and trying to imagine why she offered such compassion and an offer to align with his clan.. He looked at Grayson and then spun around to look at his men. Their eyes spoke volumes to him, seeing the offer to spare their lives and deny his just vengeance, making their decision clear. Iain knelt before Grayson and Arabella and bowed his head to them. Sloan saw no better opportunity to carry out what he wanted to do. He raised his sword quickly and brought it down towards MacLean's neck. Before it made its strike, Grayson's hand was clamped tightly around his wrist, holding him fast. 

"No Sloan. Killing him now takes away any chance of us getting intae MacRae's camp and attacking from within. If Iain can get tae his men and let them know of the change, we can disrupt their attack from within their ranks and then we'll charge in and o'erpower them." Sloan understood the reasons, but it didn't lessen his need to kill the man before him. He pulled his hand away from Grayson and stormed away with his men following behind him.

"Ye'll ned tae answer tae them at some point, Iain. The deaths of his clan can'ne go unanswered. It'll take all my powers tae keep him from carrying oot his vengeance on ye, but he'll obey me." Grayson told Iain, who's eyes clearly showed he understood the precarious balance his and his men's lives were in.

"I swear from this time on, that the clan MacLean holds an allegiance tae the MacDonald's, ne'er tae raise arms against them and protect them at all costs. I make this oath freely and wi' good heart." Iain told them, his face showing his sincerity of his words.

Arabella and Grayson looked at the humbled man and then turned away to talk. They turned back and Iain looked at them, knowing his fate was in their hands.

"Rise Iain MacLean and be judged." Iain stood on shaking legs and looked at them nervously. "The MacLean's will no longer be thought of as an enemy and yer merits in battle will decide if yer tae get tae keep yer lives. Ha'e yer men come ashore and ha'e them swear an oath as well. Come intae the keep now and tell me of MacRae's plans fer Donan. This battle was tae keep us here fighting fer nothing, while Donan is at his mercy. That we know. I want tae know what ye know." Grayson told him and they walked to the castle, as men came ashore and knelt before Arabella and swore their allegiance to her. 

Once the last man had done so, they were brought together with the other men and welcomed as allies. Some showed hesitancy at accepting them, distrusting their switch in allegiances and feeling it was a trap. Grayson sat with Iain and discussed the plans MacRae had for attacking Donan.

"When are they attacking, Iain?" Grayson asked first.

"Now. Ye know the plan was tae take ye oot of the battle and keep ye's here, so they could storm Donan wi' birlinns and his army. The Earl's men will be joining in a day or two hence. Grayson, they also ha'e a frigate coming from England wi' two hundred men. The land force has another two hundred or more, plus cannons. MacRae means tae take Donan and keep it. They're prepared tae stand tae the last man tae defend it." Iain told him, his apprehensions of telling Grayson how bad it was, showing on his face.

"They'll no take it while a MacDonald is alive tae defend it. Wi' yer clan joining wi' us, we stand a better chance of keeping it the seat of the MacDonnell's. Now, where is MacRae and the Earl's men attacking from?" Grayson asked him, wanting to know how his allegiance would begin with him.

"Blair MacRae is already in his birlinns and sailing tae Donan. He left in the middle of the night and sailed past ye's already. The ship is coming behind them tae bombard Castle Camus wi' shot. It was wi' us on Tiree and left fer there the same time we came here. His son, left o'er land wi' the MacDougall's and the rest of my clan two days ago. They saw yer spies and waited till they left. They'll join wi' the English army who've been camped out of sight in the Saddle, behind the Five Sisters. By now, they've amassed and are marching fer the bridge intae Donan. Grayson, there's no chance tae get there in time tae stop it. It would take a stroke from the hand of God tae do anything about it." Iain told him, the look of hopelessness on his face, his eyes trying to assure him of the truth, as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

Grayson looked at Iain with a searching look, trying to decide the truth of his words. He looked away, imagining the scene there. A defiance rose in him and he shook Iain's hand from his shoulder and pulled him up with him as he rose. He looked in Iain's eyes and told him with determined strength. "We sail now, Robert is ready tae ride wi' our army and wi' ha'e a few things tae surprise them wi'." Grayson told him, putting his hand on Iain's shoulder and walked him from the room, leaving no more room for discussion.

Grayson called for the leaders of the clans to join him and told them what Iain had relayed. The look of shock and horror came across a few faces, while others turned to rage. Hastily they made plans and the men were soon readied within the hour. Iain and his men returned to their birlinn and sailed with the other clans, making their way out of Loch Moidart and up the Sound of Sleat. Arabella looked at her cousin, Robert, as he mounted his horse and came to him.

"Robert, ride hard and fast tae Donan. God gi'e us the chance tae save them and return ye tae me. Yer like a brother tae me, Robert, my heart could'ne take yer loss." she told him, as she held his hand and then kissed it, before letting him go.

"No tae worry, Arabella. We'll save Donan and I'll be back tae celebrate the victory. Yer like a sister tae me, Bella, the one I ne'er had. Take care of Jacob fer me, he's my only son and I'm all he has. Will ye do that fer me?" Robert asked her, his feelings for her clearly showing.

"Aye, of course I will. Now ride, Robert, fer the MacDonald's, fer the MacDonnell's and Donan and most of all, fer the highlands of Scotland."

Robert drew his sword and raised it high and shouted loudly. "Fer Scotland. Save no souls, break no promises."

The men heard him and shouted it together, as they raised swords and arms in response.

Arabella watched with heavy heart, as those she loved and cared for, rode and sailed 

away to an uncertain destiny. When everything was calm again, she walked into the castle and into her chambers, kneeling by her bed and praying with all her heart to God to save those she loved and spare her more grief from loss.

**************************

Argus finished there, as Tavish came back smiling and feeling relieved. 

"I told them everything tae the point where they're sailing fer Donan, Tav. Do ye want tae pick it up from there?" Argus asked him.

"I think Stuart can take it from there, Argus. I'd like tae take a wee break from the telling fer a bit, if that's okay?" he told him and looked to Stuart.

"Aye, no problem, Tav. I remember what happened from there." he told him, seeing his usual high spirits had left him, wondering if Argus' news was weighing heavily on him.

Stuart left the thought dwindling in his mind, as he recalled the events that followed.

"As ye know, MacRae and his men, along wi' the Earl's men, had made their way tae Donan, long before our clans started out. Robert led the cavalry at close to a full gallop for a third of the distance, before he slowed pace to let the horses wind down and not kill them, before they even got there. As much as the urgency tae get there weighed on them, they knew they had tae pace the horses and save them fer the battle. Ye can'ne fight a war on a dead horse. The birlinns had just made it out of Moidart, when the sound of cannon fire was heard. They knew it was tae close tae be coming from Donan, so the oars were set tae hard by the men, two per oar, making all haste towards the roar." he started off, seeing the look of rapt attention on everyone's faces, except Tavish, who seemed to be far off in his thoughts.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 43



The constant roar of the cannons had the men pulling as hard as they could to battle speed. The guns of the Justice were battering down the walls of Knock, as shot after shot of solid iron kept crumbling the blocks apart, while other shot burst into flames when it hit. The birlinns kept racing towards it, the men readying arrows and lighting a fire in a steel pot. The larger, heavier galleys lagged behind their smaller counterparts, but made as much speed as they could. 

A lookout in the Justice's crow's nest yelled down again and again that sails were approaching them at great speed, but the constant roar of cannon fire drowned him out. Finally, after dropping his spyglass right beside the lieutenant, he gave the alarm and pointed back at the approaching sails. The lieutenant quickly informed the captain, who ordered the anchors raised and the sails set. The guns were silenced, as the sailors hoisted the iron weights and had them moving, but the birlinns quick speed had the distance closing quickly.

The battle cries of every clan rang out together, as they closed on the frigate and prepared to fire upon it. Nearing Knock, hearts sank, as the devastation of the castle was evident. Flames shot from the roof tops and windows, as bodies, still in flames, were hanging out of them. The carnage that was left had a riot of fury stirred in each man as they passed. 

Grayson scanned the area hard for signs of survivors and saw little sign of life present. His heart sank heavily, knowing most of his kin and clansmen had been erased from the list of the living. As hard as he fought it back, tears crept to his eyes, finding their way down his cheeks. The rage boiled inside him, wanting his birlinn to catch up and put to death any and all aboard the vessel in front of him. 

"Row men, row harder and catch they bastard English in front of us. I want the heads of every man on board, not one tae be saved, but the captain's head is mine." he raged out, venting the madness starting to consume him.

Iain's had his men row and sail to the fastest speed they could get to, wanting Grayson to know he was keeping his oath and leading the attack. Captain Roberts stood stiff and set on the aft deck, watching the smaller boats slowly catching up. He had spent many years fighting aboard a ship and knew the tactics involved in an attack from the rear. He ordered the men to load chain shot in the aft cannon and waited till they were close enough to make sure they hit their target. The men aimed their sights and waited for the order to fire. Roberts gauged the distance to Iain's birlinn coming closest to him and mentally counted the time out. 

"Fire!" he yelled and the projectile blasted from the cannon, beginning to separate and spin. 

The chain wrapped around the mast, halfway up, as the balls smashed the wood into splinters, toppling the mast and sail on top of the men below. Several were killed outright, by the heavy beam, the dragging oars disabling them completely. The birlinn slowed to a stop, the others behind swerving and colliding trying to pass it. Remorseful faces were looking at them, knowing they had to fend for themselves. Hands were raised in unity of strength to them, honouring their losses. Iain raised his hand back to them, then went to tend to the wounded, as they cleared the mast and sail away and now rowed for the shore at Loch Hourn. 

The galleys slowed and stopped to aid them and a decision was made to unload the horses of one at the far side of the loch and take on the dead and wounded. Horses were forced to jump from the side of the galley into the waist deep, frigid water, before a quick trot onto land. The riders made the same chilly trek with the expected screams, as their prides suffered the instant chill. then gathered the horses together and mounted up. Once they were ready with arms, they rode at full speed, east along the glen from Eilanreach, through the mountain pass towards Loch Duich twelve miles away. The galleys slowly made their way up the sound towards Kyle Rhea, watching the birlinns tacking back and forth behind the frigate. As much as they wanted to make more headway to them, the light winds and heavy cargo made their journey anxiously slow. 

Roberts ordered hot shot to be made. He had full reign to use any method he chose to take out the enemy and enjoyed showing them what he had come with. Bellows fanned the coals in the small, steel oven, making the iron shot glow to white hot. The men shovelled it into the cannon barrel and spun it back around, taking aim at the next birlinn closest to them. 

Liam O'Bannion saw his birlinn ready to be fired upon and ordered a sharp turn to starboard. Roberts saw his attempt at evasion and ordered the men to fire. The multitude of shot glowed brightly, as it whizzed through the air towards the boat, burning through anything it touched, including the men as it landed. Smoking holes were left in them, as they died with horror in their eyes, The birlinn quickly caught fire, the sail becoming an inferno that blanketed the men as it fell upon them. Shrieking screams of pain were all that the others heard, as they passed the floating pyre. 

Grayson was closing on the port side of the ship and had his men open fire with arrows at 

the men on the cannon, who then moved back, staying out of range from them. As fast as they could, they reloaded and fired arrows again and again, keeping them from using the cannon. Coming closer, they prepared to fire flaming arrows at the sails, Unseen by them, soldiers were at the ready undercover along the gunwale, the wheelocks of their muskets cocked and ready. As Grayson's boat came within range, he gave the order to fire at the sails. As the flaming projectiles made a swift flight into the canvas, the soldiers jumped up and took aim at the clansmen. Looks of wonder came across them, some never seeing a firearm yet, as the barrels were aimed at them. In moments, the roar of exploding gunpowder released the iron balls and five men dropped in spinning and flipping moves, as the shots tore into them and pulled them along their trajectory. Before Grayson could give a command, five more men rose up and took aim towards them. 

"Hard tae starboard, ram the ship!" he bellowed back to the helmsman.

He pushed the rudder hard to starboard, bringing it on a collision course with the side of the ship. The cracking of larch wood on the bow, caused splinters to shoot off, injuring the men with them and almost tossing Grayson into the water. The muskets roared again, but missed their marks, as the collision threw them off balance. The birlinn ricocheted away towards the rocky coast of Skye, as they approached the narrows of Kyle Rhea. The frigate's size commanded it's approach into the straight, as it prepared to exit the Sound of Sleat and into Loch Alsh. Grayson's boat recovered its course, but the damage had water coming in through the gaping seams, filling it up and weighing it down. The dead were moved out of the way, so the men could return to rowing, while others stripped away clothing from them and began patching the gaps as best as they could. 

Captain Roberts smiled to himself, seeing the trail of death and carnage he had created. Smoke from the burning wreckage of the O'Bannion birlinn rose into the sky, marking his destructive powers. Far back, he could see the galleys were still coming, but the MacLean birlinn, broken mast and sail tossed overboard, was passing them, the craft under the strong arms of determined men, determined to never stop until the last man died in battle. 

Roberts watched as his sailors cut down the burning canvas on his ship and tossed it overboard, stopping the damage before it became serious. The shortage of sail caused them to slow, but Roberts knew he had control over the birlinns chasing him. He had his gunners load spice shot, a mix of nails and shards of metal, into the cannon and waited for the next victim to come within range. With a mile left to the end of the kyle, all the birlinns could do was stay back far enough out of range, until they made their way into Loch Alsh and spread out again. 

Slowly they wended their way, until the open waters of the loch were made and the frigate turned to starboard and made its way east to Donan. The birlinns started closing the distance rapidly, catching the fair winds coming from the sea and began to race along, keeping out of distance of the aft cannon, as well as the larger ones along the sides. Arrows were lit, as the birlinns closed in on the frigate, eyes scanning the rails, looking for signs of barrels. Sorely made his way at an angle to the frigate, closing quickly to firing range and out of range of the small cannon. When he knew it was time, he had the archers stand quickly and fire at the sails, the streaking shafts showing a true trajectory. 

The archers quickly ducked back under cover and re-armed, just as the musketeers raised up and shot at them. The heavy targes blocked the shots, but some splintered and broke from the hits, exposing the men behind them. Before the next volley could be fired, the birlinn was pulling away to safety, while seamen worked desperately to put out the burning canvases in the rigging. Taking a chance, several rose up and fired at the men that were exposed to them. Two men dropped to the water dead, while another clung on for his life, an arrow deep in his leg. Musket shot rang out, but the distance had the projectiles going wide of its mark.

Iain's birlinn had made its way out of the Kyle Rhea and was closing in on Grayson's floundering boat. They pulled close along side and an exchange of men was 

made to lighten the burdened birlinn and help row the mast-less one. The two battered boats began making their way along the loch, watching the others hunt and chase the slowing frigate. The large, flat island, that saw the demise of the first MacRae's, was now the same spot where the wolf pack would begin circling their wounded prey. Captain Anthony Roberts took stock of his sailing capabilities to manoeuvre his vessel for battle, the passage he was taking, afforded him little error in judgement. Two miles away, Eilean Donan sat proudly waiting for him, waiting to test its walls of stone against the eighteen pound balls of iron fired from his Culverins, that were loaded and ready to fire.

The large point of land jutting out after the Kyle, made the north side of the island the easiest way for the frigate to take. The lighter, faster birlinns made the turns easier, their speed increasing as they prepared to cut off the frigate on the far side, hoping the cannon wouldn't take them out before they passed it. Ten cannons were readied in their ports, the men knowing any one of them could take them out instantly, no matter what shot was used on them.

What the pack was unaware of, were the five birlinns now sailing out of the long bay to the west of them, after staying out of sight until they could surprise them from behind and attack. Blair MacRae stood at the prow of his birlinn, looking around at the others preparing for attack. He spotted the two ailing vessels coming out of the kyle and sneered to himself. He knew one of the lagging birlinns was MacDonald's and that made this attack all the more enjoyable.

Faster they closed on the birlinns, the MacDonald's and MacLean's both spotting them and readying for attack. MacRae had his boats spread out, wanting to take them from all sides and negate any defences. Grayson stared back, looking at the lead boat and the man at the prow. Even from the far distance, he could recognize Blair MacRae and his blood boiled at the sight of him. He ordered his boat to come around and slowly his waterlogged boat listed to port, as he came about, trying to keep as much water out as he could by turning on his good side. The men rowed hard, gaining speed, the north wind giving them an edge. Iain had his men hold oars on the port side, while the starboard side rowed hard to bring the birlinn around in a tight turn. It took away most of their speed, so all men worked to their limits to bring the vessel back up to speed. They were both aiming for a close pass, or at the least, a head on collision and a battle aboard sinking ships.

MacRae had his archers at the ready, as well as ovens of hot metal shards, stoked and ready to throw by shovelfuls at the sails and men in passing. Grayson's archers had twelve flamers ready, six for each side, but he wanted two to take aim at MacRae only. The distance closed faster and faster, as each opponent raced across the water with all speed. A row of men with targes, waited down low behind the main shields, ready to spring up with the archers for better defence. Grayson's eyes widened, as he saw the enemy archers, then shovels of glowing metal waiting to be tossed at his boat. He called for oars back and the men let the oars trail behind. He called for them to be raised out of the water, letting the enemy rowers oars take the hit of his birlinn. 

As the bows started to pass, he called for oars out, sending them into the other galleys, just as MacRae and the others ordered the men to fire and toss the hot shot at them. Blair saw the oars careen and bounce over the shields and strike the men. The shot was spilled over the deck of his own birlinn, immediately setting the wood on fire. Grayson's archers rose and fired into the sails on both sides, setting them ablaze, while some aimed for the interior and made the men become torches. Grayson watched intently, as his men took aim at MacRae who was huddled into the prow for protection, then let their shafts take flight. The first took MacRae by his kilt blanket, holding him fast and setting it afire, while the second found the side of his chest. 

Grayson roared in murderous glory, as he saw Blair MacRae fall to the deck, but ended up hanging by the other flaming arrow. The flames began to lick at his clothes and men threw water on him to put them out. Grayson watched as best as he could, to see if he saw MacRae rise, but lost sight of him. The rudder went hard over, bringing them around, as the water sloshed over the deck, up the side and back to where it came from. The opposite side lowered their oars quickly and stayed them in place, turning the birlinn on its axis. 

The twin roar of MacLean's small cannon's, blasted holes through the light wood of the two birlinns he passed between, shattering them into pointed splinters. Men on both sides, were pierced and gored, dying instantly or bleeding out profusely. One ball struck the MacRae birlinn on the other side, going through two men, before exiting out into the water. The nearly severed bodies slumped and crumbled to the deck, entrails spilling everywhere. The hot metal spilled onto Iain's deck, but the sloshing water taken on from the loss of their mast, kept it from doing any damage. Several men had small shards burn their way into their flesh, charring them instantly. Blades were drawn and tips gouged into the smoking craters, digging out the glowing pieces. Grayson made his way over to Iain, making sure they were okay. 

"Are ye in need of aid?" Grayson yelled to him.

"We'll be alright, Grayson. We're reloading and coming around wi' ye. They're making fer the castle, but these ones, there's no fight left in them. We'll take them out as we pass and then make fer the castle." Iain said, with a smile of sheer joy at the thought of butchering the enemy, written clearly in his face and eyes. 

Grayson found a moment of camaraderie and smiled in kind back, before giving the order to row hard and make for the battered birlinns and the men aboard. The MacLean's and MacDonald's plied the oars in long, hard strokes, a pittance of the speed they could travel at with a sail. Coming broadside to the smashed boats, they opened fire with arrows, before tossing grappling lines over and pulling the boats together. The clansmen scrambled over the oars and cut down any men still alive, no one to be spared. They returned to their boats bloodied and screaming, wanting to stain their blades with more blood. 

As they made their way, the galleys were coming out of the kyle after rescuing the survivors of the burning O'Bannion boat and passed the wreckage and human carnage left by the men. The ten other birlinns were in hot pursuit of the frigate a mile and a half ahead, charging and firing flamers and arrows at it, crisscrossing behind the stern, but taking hits from the aft cannon. Buckets of water were poured, soaking canvas, making it fireproof from the flamers, as the Justice neared its destination, the sailors and soldiers taking cover along the sides.

Sorely remembered the area around the island and made a bold decision to try a foolhardy thought. Noticing the angle of the ship and the inability of the guns on that side to fire down at an angle, he could see he was safe from cannon fire and only needed protection from arrows and shot. He called Colla to come closer and told him of his plan. Colla looked at him in wonder and then at the frigate. 

The other birlinn leaders saw the two talking and then saw Sorley's birlinn make speed and pull towards the ship's aft on the starboard side. The men who weren't sailing, used a shield in each hand to protect himself and the lives of the rowers as well. They had barely come along side when the projectiles rained down on them, the men canopied, were safe from them, but a few were hit. They continued forward on the ship, until they were level with the bow, the men knowing the dead or dying couldn't be helped until they had finished what Sorley had started. Flynn Kennedy twirled the grappling hook in his hand, gauging his aim and distance to the bowsprit. Letting it loose, it sailed over the beam and into the mooring lines, then Flynn held the rope fast and began pulling it back in. 

The hook caught on the ropes and Sorley motioned for Colla to get in place in front of him. As Colla's birlinn passed, they tossed their bow line to them and they tied it to their aft post. In moments, the line snapped taut and then the line between Sorley and the ship did the same. Using rowers on the port sides only, they started to pull the large ship off course and on a heading with the sandbars. Roberts ran forward to the bow and saw what was happening. He ordered a man to go forward onto the bowsprit and cut them loose. The deckhand scrambled over the bow and onto the bowsprit. He lay over the wooden beam and began shimmying towards the grappling lines. One of Sorley's archers took careful aim and released his missile. In a streaking flash, it was sticking in the side of the man's chest, making him roll sideways with the force, then dropping under the bow of the ship and disappearing underneath. 

The two birlinns continued to drag the larger vessel off course towards the shallows, preparing to strand the vessel. Roberts had the wheel thrown over hard the other way, his sails angled to push him away, but the drag of the two birlinns was greater and kept them on course with the sand banks. The other birlinns tried to take advantage of it and charged towards the troubled Justice. The aft gunner aimed his spice shot at one of the MacDonald birlinns and fired as they passed close behind. The shot tore through sail and 

men, killing four of them instantly. Blood poured like a fountain from arteries severed by the shards, as men tried to tend to their wounds and others to sailing for safety. 

Arrows whistled from all sides, as the birlinns closed in, shooting quickly and veering off, making themselves harder targets to hit with the main guns. One of the O'Bannion birlinns came to the starboard side to fire at them, only to be greeted with muskets blazing at them. For all their inaccuracies, one of the shots found the forehead of Liam's son, Gleason, sending him twisting into the water, blood and brains pouring from the gaping wound through his skull. Another found the chest of the tiller man, the birlinn going wildly off course on its own, putting it in sight of the cannons. The last two aft cannons roared with billows of smoke and an instant after, the birlinn blew apart in shreds of wood and flesh, as the large canister shots exploded on impact. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 43



The others watched in horror, as they sailed past body parts and dying men, their blood darkening the waters, while others scrambled to save themselves, clinging to debris and the parts still floating. The gunners and men cheered at their success, but the moment was short-lived. The shallower water gave way to sand and the heavy frigate slowed drastically in speed, as it became grounded. Sorley and Colla's birlinns felt the same impact and the men were thrown forward by the jolt. The other birlinns vied for a position to attack the stranded vessel, coming in and opening fire with arrows, trying to hit the men as they broke from cover. Several fell overboard into the shallow water, turning the tidal pools red from their wounds.

Quickly Roberts recovered and had his men aim the cannons at the birlinns, hoping the listing of the ship would allow him a shot. Free will to shoot was given, should a boat come into aim. Sorley and Colla had the lines cut that attached them together and to the ship. Their oarsmen set to on the oars and brought them safely away and a chance to manoeuvre for a firing position. 

As the clans worked to take out the frigate, MacRae and his three remaining birlinns were sailing up to them. They had one goal and one goal only, fire in passing and make it safely to Loch Duich. Far behind, but coming strong, Grayson and Iain were making their way to them as well, the battered birlinns struggling along.

Two birlinns sat at the bow, lofting flaming arrows towards the forward sails, as others started shooting at the side listed too high to fire on them. Six birlinns ran aground on the sand close to the ship, the men taking positions on the ground behind them, firing flaming arrows at the deck. Cannons were tilted to find an angle to shoot at the boats, but the listing declined them an opportunity. The other side was given a better chance to find a target. Once it was found, the men fired at the boat and made short work of turning it into coffin wood. The large shot tore through men and wood the same, as the short distance between them and the men aboard the Kennedy birlinn was met with devastation. As the clans battled against the frigate, MacRae and the other two birlinns made it past them and continued on towards Duich.

The scene captivated everyone at Donan, as the roar of the guns reverberated down the loch to them and echoed back off the hills. Most of the men gathered along the new east wall, where raised platforms allowed two bigger cannons to sit in defence. The old guns were moved to the west side battlement and the south wall over the gate, where their shorter range would have more effect. The horseshoe atoll to the north-east about five hundred yards away, that was once unreachable by the old cannons, was now surpassed four fold by the new ones, 

Even though they had a farther reaching impact, the scene that played out before them was still more than twice the cannon's range away. Only one gun had an aim at the birlinns coming towards them, waiting until they were well within range. Knowing they only had one chance to hit them, they waited until they had turned to go south down Duich. The broadside angle gave more of a target area and the shot found its mark, splitting the birlinn in two. One birlinn continued on, while the other stopped to pick up survivors. The men in the castle roared at their victory, then readied the cannon again, ready to sink another one. Men watched the drama unfolding up the loch, cheering on their men to beat the English.

The frigate rocked in the breeze, its keel coming out of the soft sand. Slowly it shifted forward with the waves, but not enough to free it. Roberts thought on the action and had a idea. He ordered his gunners to fire on his signal and felt the incoming breezes. Judging the angle he was on at the height of the breeze, he had his port cannons fire at once. The ship rocked upright and shifted forward several feet, before stopping again. Roberts had the starboard guns fire and the ship rocked back the other way and slid several more feet off the sand. 

The breeze increased in strength at that moment and kept the motion going, the Justice beginning to right itself, as it slid further it into deeper water. The men on the island quickly pushed their boats back into the water and scrambled to the oars. If they weren't moving in the next minute, they would become targets for the guns of the Justice. There was nothing to do, but watch the vessel keep going and follow in a safe formation around it, keeping out of range of any guns.

MacRae and his birlinns sailed down Duich to the end, beaching them on the south side at the end of Glen Shiel. Blair MacRae was helped from the boat and laid on the dry ground. Blood seeped from under his armour on the right side of his chest. The tip had gone under the leather plates and imbedded itself in the muscle tissue. The men removed his armour and ripped open his tunic, exposing the site of penetration. Blair gasped in pain, trying to prepare himself for the men to pull it out. He drew in a short breath and nodded quickly that he was ready. 

Slowly the tip came out, tissue sticking to the barbed ends of the point, as it was designed to do. Blair cried out in pain and then the relief of it being gone washed through him. Quickly they cut some of his tunic and made a compress and bandage to stem the flow of blood, wrapping it around his chest and tying it off. Blair sat up weakly and ordered several of the men to travel inland two miles to the Saddle and inform his father of the attack and the Justice coming and getting stranded on the island. 

******************************

"So far, the whole attack has gone wrong fer MacRae. The attack on Tioram failed completely, wi' the MacLean's now turning sides against him. I don't think it took much fer Iain tae see he was on the losing side. The MacDonald's had massacred the troops and cavalry and bested his birlinns, so he knew things wouldn't probably go as well at Donan. I tell ye's what. Tom and Deb, see when ye's go tae Donan the morrow, see what history they ha'e fer ye about the battle and see what they say. They might ha'e some more details about it than I do. I only ha'e the general history from books and accounts from Garreth and Grayson, so I'm curious has tae how they ha'e written their bit of history on it. The ladies diaries ha'e painted a bit of a different picture from the others, so it's good tae get all sides of it tae get a good idea of what the truth is." Stuart asked his nephew and future niece.

"Okay, that sounds like a plan. We'll dig up whatever we can about the battle and compare notes when we get back tomorrow evening." Tom replied, Deb nodding happily in agreement, excited that she was playing a part now in the telling.

"Now, telling it from our side still, I'll tell of what happens next, once the forces on land meet. Ye's remember that Robert is on his way from Tioram and making his way north-east towards where Iain had told them MacRae and his men, as well as the English were waiting. Ye also remember that sixty riders are coming from Loch Hourn, after picking up the wounded and putting the horses ashore. Now, ye'll ha'e tae think back a wee bit, tae the day before yesterday, when Argus told ye's of Fletcher becoming a Glaistig." he started saying.

"Excuse me, Stuart, for interrupting. A Glai... what?" Mark interrupted him, not knowing anything of Fletcher or the legends.

Stuart laughed, realizing his new guests knew nothing of the tales and legends of the past and explained it to them.

"A Glaistig is a spirit that is benevolent tae animals. It has a connection tae them some how. Fletcher was an old man that lived by Tioram and fought wi' Grayson and Arabella's father, John. He was very well loved by the animals and when he died, they followed the procession tae his grave in Cul Dorlinn and moaned and wailed fer him, as he was laid tae rest. Some ha'e said his spirit rose and only the animals could see him. All I ha'e fer any proof, is what's been written down back then. Whether it's just a faerie tale, or something else, is entirely up tae speculation. It was seen by too many men and told too many times afterwards, by more than a few clansmen, fer it tae be anything else but true. So wi'out debate on the subject, I'll just tell ye's what happened and let ye's decide fer yerselves if it's true, or not." Stuart began again, smiling a bit, as he saw the new guests already becoming engrossed in the story.

********************************

The English had made it as far north as Loch Cluanie at the far end, just before the start of Glen Shiel. MacRae and most of his men were there waiting for them, wanting to travel en masse to Duich and attack with guns from the Justice on the water and the large English demi-cannons, thirty-two pounders, finely decorated, bronze barrels mounted on oak carriages with four foot diameter oak wheels. The heavy, draught horses were well watered and fed, before they were hitched to the tail harnesses of the carriages, ready to pull the heavy loads to their destination. Supply wagons of shells and solid shot, others loaded with kegs of gunpowder and still more with food and supplies, were hitched to their horses and slowly the formation of men, horse and artillery was brought into line. 

MacRae rode at the head of the procession with two other men, Captain Alexander Rennie of Aberdeen, the last of the Earl's acquisitions and Captain David Lockstone, commanding the forces sent from Carlisle. 

MacRae looked and felt proud, as he turned to see the force he commanded, believing in his heart Eilean Donan was his. If Douglas Wallace backed him as he said, the western highlands of Scotland were his to command. There was no concern in his thoughts, if the other clans made it into the castles chosen for them. It was their worry to fight and win, not his. All he concerned himself with was his possession of Donan and the rule of the land he owned and took. 

***********************************

"Uncle Stuart, sorry for stopping you again, but Deb and I and I bet Taylor and Lisa are wondering the same thing, where is Garreth and the MacLeod's? I haven't heard anyone mention them since he and Arabella..." he stopped himself, not wanting to reopen that issue again, "well, once they left from here and everyone went to Tioram. Or did Garreth go to Tioram?" Tom speculated.

"Ah, now yer thinking, son. The plan was fer the others tae sail tae Tioram and of course defend it, but some took different routes, so they could scout fer anything out of the ordinary. Garreth and three hundred MacLeod's set sail and came down the way we went and were in Donan long before MacRae and his army arrived. Combined wi' close tae two hundred MacDonnell and surrounding clans loyal tae them, they were a sizable force tae contend wi'. They'd been making plans as well and knew the only route tae stage from. Believe me, Eilean Donan was by no means unprotected. All the plans Grayson had made prior, were still being adhered tae and more were set in place. The pits were dug the same as along the Shiel and of course, they worked pretty much the same. Now, I'll get back tae the march that was coming north tae them and the things that happened. Robert and his men were only six miles back from the forces at Shielbridge, just passing the tip of Loch Hourn, while the sixty riders were making their way east to the same point, only four miles away. Now, if ye's don't ha'e anymore questions, I'll get back tae what was happening wi' the birlinns, once I get caught up wi' all the other things. We still ha'e Therese and the French ships coming up as well, remember. So don't make me ferget anything, or Argus and Tavish will ha'e my hide fer it, won't ye's?" Stuart finished, laughing heartily.

"I hav'ne any complaints about it. I like the way ye tell the story, Stuart. Ye add a good lot of flair and posh tae it, so ye do." Argus told him, raising his cup of tea in salute.

"Well thank ye, Argus. Very nice of ye tae say. I will say, ye've been doing a good job yerself, the start was a wee bit shaky, but ye've toned it down and it's a bit easier tae take." Stuart said, laughing harder.

"I'll say the same as Argus, Stuart. Ye do ha'e a way wi' words and ye've no missed anything that I know of." Tavish told him, looking more relaxed and not deep in his 

thoughts anymore. 

"On you go then, Stuart. I think we're all excited to know what happened. I hope one day we can hear it from the beginning like everyone else has, it sounds incredible." David told him, the look of hopefulness on his face and everyone else.

"Och, really, David? I don't know if the three of us could sit long enough tae do this again. This was all just a spur of the moment thing fer Tom and Deb. Yer whole trip would be spent listening tae us prattle on about things. It really is a shame ye's could'ne ha'e flown in earlier and gone wi' us. We took them a cruise around tae the places and seen a few things that we're still not sure about. Not tae get off the story, but while we were out, we saw a battle ready birlinn, a MacDonald one no less, sailing by us in the fog, They were chanting their war cry too. Tavish made calls later that day and the next and no one knows of it. So it's still a mystery tae us, but twenty or so of us saw it. We were sailing by Knock's ruins just before and Tavish had no sooner told everyone about the Gruagach, and it appeared in the viewfinder of Deb's camera. Everyone saw it and after Deb gave it her news, which again, no one knows what she said, it was heard laughing quietly fer a bit and then it faded away." Stuart told them, his own face still showing the disbelief in it.

"I know what she said, but she made me swear not to tell anyone else." Tom divulged, looking at Deb and crossing his heart, smiling to everyone that he was privy to her secret.

"Okay, a Grua-who-a?" Gillian asked with a puzzled look, the Gaelic name sounding so strange to her. She wasn't alone with her expression, as the others had no idea of the past events that happened on the cruise.

"The Green Lady of Knock. Gruagach means green lady in Gaelic. It's the spirit of a lady that was murdered, as she tried tae protect the fortunes of her clan. It's been a myth, a legend that's been told and handed down fer centuries, but we all saw it. Tae be honest, wi' all they things Stuart has just mentioned and the ones he's about tae mention, whene'er he gets back around tae it, I was sure the past had come tae join us. Clan birlinns, ghosts and such, all just appearing like magic, makes a body think a wee bit, don't ye agree?" Tavish explained and left the new arrivals to enjoy the story, guessing like the rest, as to the truth and reality of the events.

"Aye, yer right, Tav, I could'ne help telling them that though, could I? We still hav'ne come tae an agreement fer an explanation of it and I want tae know, so do ye and ye too, Argus. Anyway, we'll discuss that subject another time, along wi' others, but I'll get back tae the story at hand and see if we can finish this soon." Stuart told them and sipped some tea, before he cleared his throat and started in again.

Faces were turned to Stuart, eager to hear him tell of battles past and a history of who they came from. Fourteen year old Sean pulled the other ear bud out and turned off his Ipod and paid attention as well, the mention of ghosts and fighting capturing his interest.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 44



James MacRae and his two captains rode ahead of the procession on the newly made roadway, making slow progress towards Sheil Bridge where they would split apart. One gun and crew would go to the point on the west side of Loch Duich with Captain Lockstone, seven hundred yards across the water from Donan, while the other would continue to a flat area nine hundred yards from the south wall. Two platoons of Pioneers were sent ahead three days before, to clear the way and make roads for the cannons to travel on, levelling the ground and felling trees, to let them pass as easily as they could. 

Forty men made up each unit, and each man worked diligently to complete the task in time for the battle. Lieutenant Charles Handley led the west shore platoon and had reached the point at the juncture of Loch Duich and Loch Alsh ahead of schedule, smiling to himself, knowing he would be commended on his work and in line for promotion. The sound of the Justice's guns roaring from up Loch Alsh, had them looking to see where the action was taking place, while others looked back to see if their field gun was coming. 

They were at the spot they needed to make it to and were levelling the site for the cannon, looking across the water at the target, when three birlinns sailed past and then the sound of cannon fire from across the loch. The centre birlinn exploded into pieces and sent debris of wood and flesh flying onto shore at them. Minutes later a shot roared again and took out two solid oaks behind them. It took little direction for the lieutenant to get the men working faster to complete their task and as soon as they were finished, they mounted up and quickly marched back towards the head of the loch, to where the army was amassing. 

On the opposite side of Duich, another platoon of Pioneers were clearing a road for the other cannon to travel on. They had cleared the first four miles of roadway needed to bring the cannon forward and were coming well within site of the castle. As they neared their destination a mile away, their attention became divided between clearing and levelling the ground and keeping an eye on the area around them for an attack. 

Eyes watched the men working from deep in the woods, waiting for the moment when the order came to attack. Sixty locals lay in wait, armed mostly with farm and trade tools, several with bows and others with anything lethal they could swing and hit with, as well as stab and gore. Garreth had given the task to Iain, Stephen and Athol to lead an advance force, their knowledge of the area and amassing of a hundred plus locals, giving them an advantage over the invaders. They had watched for hours, trailing them quietly as they worked their way along the open coast. Iain left for his horse and went back to Donan to inform Glenn and Garreth of the progress. Garreth and Glenn were in the keep going over the plans with several captains, making sure they had covered the castle with as much protection and defence as they could. They all looked up, as Iain strode up to them quickly.

"What news, Iain?" Glenn asked his brother.

"They're just o'er a mile from the castle. They made it through those slopes by Keppoch and they ha'e two more tae go. They're making enough noise tae wake the dead, but they don't e'en know we're there watching them. The men are getting anxious tae attack and await yer orders. Laird Garreth. Is there any word from Tioram? I fear fer Laird Grayson and what's happening there." he asked, his feelings for the man clearly showing.

"We've not had any word so far, Iain. If the English ha'e been already fer close tae a week preparing, the same must be happening there. I'm not too worried about them. Don't ferget, the Irish ha'e joined us, so we ha'e far more men, horse and boat than they think. They'll attack Tioram and get more than they bargained fer. They Irish are known fer hating the English as much as we do, so they'll fight tae kill each and every one of them and any who support them. Remember who's leading them too, Sorley Boy MacDonnell. Ye heard the stories told of what they did tae his son and family. No one could hate the English more than him and want tae see them die...and not very pleasantly either."

"I say kill them now! Take the filth out where they are and be done with it." Glenn fumed.

"We'll wait, Glenn. Ye'll get yer chance soon enough, Iain." Garreth interjected, before any more talk of attack was mentioned.

Garreth was waiting until they had cleared as much road as they could, letting the enemy build what the castle and the MacDonnell's needed for future growth, while Glenn seethed at the chance to start spilling blood in retaliation. 

"Wait till the bastards ha'e come as far as they're going tae. When they come no further, kill them where they stand, don't let one make it back. Clear the bodies from sight and then come tell me where they stopped. I know they're clearing the land fer the heavy guns tae bring up and not just fer men tae march on, so it's good we set the pits closer tae the castle. If they came any closer, we'd ha'e tae take them out, before they made it tae them. That would be a shame. From what we're told, they're doing a grand job of making a new road fer us. The more they do, the less we ha'e tae do later oorselves." Garreth told them,

getting nods of agreement to his thinking. 

"We'll ha'e our men co'er the area above them and wait till after they start attacking. MacRae will start his march on us once our defences ha'e been battered by shot. When they leave their guns defenceless, we'll attack and take them out, then come up from behind and flank them for attack. When Laird Grayson is victorious, we ha'e his support as well. He'll come through the hills on horse and sail wi' any and all birlinns under his command. MacRae isn't entering this castle, mark my words. The face and beauty of Scotland must be saved from his retched horror and ne'er gi'en a chance tae mar it. Now go, Iain. Do as I say and let them finish building our road. When they're done, ye know what's expected of ye's, God guide yer hands." he said, looking into Iain's eyes squarely, committing him to the task.

Iain bowed quickly to Garreth, then looked at his brother still exuding his rage for MacRae blood, lowered his head and exited the castle. He rode hard back to the small bern running from the hills and then up into them, riding along the ridge out of sight and out of sound. He dismounted and tied his horse with the others and quietly made his way back to his men, still watching the Pioneers make progress. The lieutenant leading the road builders, mounted up and slowly rode towards the castle, surveying the path ahead. He was concerned about a rocky slope that cut across his path and presented a problem in negotiating it. It was too steep to go build a grade up it and no way to get around it, as it fell away into the loch. 

He dismounted and surveyed the rock, studying its composition and height from level ground, judging what must be done to continue building. He rode back and halted the progress to discuss what was needed. Five of the men, skilled in explosives, went to the store wagon and returned with ten small casks of gunpowder. They returned to the slope and quickly set the first charges. After lighting the fuses, the five men rushed away into the woods for cover, hiding behind trees. In a few seconds, the peaceful quiet was rocked with the explosions, the echoes resounding between the hills in all directions. Lieutenant Roy Mitchell took stock of the rubble after the airborne projectiles had returned to earth and knew they would need more help in creating a path through it. He looked past the mound of rock and could see his goal only five hundred yards ahead, a flat area of land jutting out, that gave a perfect shot at the south walls of the castle nine hundred yards away from it. He rode back and brought twenty men forward to clear away stone and rubble, while the rest stayed and continued levelling a series of rolling mounds.

Iain talked with Stephen and Athol and gave them Garreth's orders. They looked at the men clearing the rubble away with picks and shovels, levelling it to solid rock again. Five more charges were set and lit, as the men took cover once again. The echoes of the ship's cannon's echoed down the loch moments before their blast went off, so Mitchell waited for the debris to land and went to the shore to see the cause of the other blast. He looked across the loch and saw his counterpart, Lieutenant Handley, leading his platoon of men back down the loch at a fast pace, then stared down to the mouth and saw nothing coming. The next round of cannon fire had him hastily gathering his men and as quick as they could, fifteen men started clearing away rubble, while five took up arms in case of attack. The others farther back saw the change and responded in kind. Soon musket barrels were pointed in defence, bayonets fixed on the ends.

Iain saw the change in defence and saw their odds at winning decrease. He knew they had to come up with a better vantage in their favour to best them and win. Battling with tools and swords against men with tools and swords, put them on equal ground, but muskets made things turn drastically in the army's ability to take them out without a fighting chance. 

Stephen rode back along the ridge and surveyed the area the Pioneers would take back. A pass cut through a slope seven hundred yards further back, afforded them cover on each side, providing the perfect ambush. Their work would be their own undoing, making Stephen laugh at the irony. He slowly rode back up to the others and tied his horse up. 

"What of it, Stephen? Did ye find anything tae gi' us favour o'er them?" Iain asked anxiously.

"They gi' us it themselves, Iain." he started laughing as he relayed it to them. "They cut that pass a ways back this morning, gi'ing us a place tae lie in wait on both sides. They'll come back along the path they made, so they'll no see us and walk right intae our weapons. With the element of surprise, we can o'erpower them, before they can use their muskets on us. We'll take their carts and horses tae the castle and use whate'er they ha'e in them. We'll ha'e better weapons tae use as well. Iain, look." Stephen halted and pointed at the Pioneers. 

The small army of men had levelled the ground to a satisfactory grade for the horses to pull the cannon over easily and were collecting their tools, completing their work there. They watched to see where they would go to next, making their decision to continue watching, or prepare to kill them.

Cannon fire continued to roar in the distance, letting the workers know the battle wasn't coming closer yet. Their movement towards the castle gave them a stay of execution of their lives, as they worked their way over the last five hundred yards to the firing area. The men levelled an area twenty feet by twenty feet, then layered it with crushed stone from the loch. Once done, they loaded all their tools into the carts and turned around, making their way back down the loch to the staging area. Knowing the battle had started, their time was now in need of haste, if they were to get back safely. They rode in the carts and doubled on horse back, leaving them at a great disadvantage to an attack, especially one from ambush. 

Iain and the others rode four hundred feet above them on the ridge, to the spot chosen by Stephen and quickly tied the horses. Nimbly sliding and running down the slope, they came to the area Stephen had pointed out and divided themselves on both sides. They stationed themselves behind the slopes, along enough of it to ensnare all of them at once. Knowing how the Pioneers had formed their line, plans were made for certain men to go for the carts, while others went for the doubled riders. The archers were to take out anyone with a musket first, before shooting anyone else. 

As the sound of hooves and cart wheels approached, men became tense and readied themselves for action. Where yesterday saw them tending to livestock and fields, or fishing the coastal waters and raising families, today they were armed and ready to bring death upon men they didn't know and cared not to. Not one carried any remorse for what they would do, their lives and the lives of those they loved and cared about weighing their actions.

The first riders entered the narrow pass, looking up at the slopes carefully as they rode in. The carts came next, the waiting clansmen counting them off, as they waited for the sound of the final riders to enter. Once the last hooves made it past the men, they let out a wild mircanth and charged over the slopes. The Pioneers were too startled to react and were taken off guard, as the highlanders leapt from the top of the mounds onto them. Archers quickly started taking out anyone holding a musket, but five men in the carts took aim and dropped their targets. Once fired, the bayonets provided them with defence, but longer pitchforks made their way in and gored the riders with several deep holes. In less than fifteen minutes, every Pioneer was savagely killed whatever way could be done, whether slashed and stabbed, or gored and bludgeoned, then dragged behind the mounds out of sight. 

Dirt and rocks were scattered over the blood to hide the stains on the ground, but the disappearance of the platoon would leave questions. It was up to MacRae to find the answers, but it would be a moot point to waste time on, the battle about to be waged taking precedent over missing men. The horses were tied to the carts and turned around, while others scaled up the hillside and back to their own horses. A small group of ten stayed behind with Athol, to keep an eye out for any advancing scouts or troop movement. All the tools and weapons were loaded in one cart, while their five dead were transported in the other. They rode parallel to each other, until the bern, then they joined up again, to make their way back to Donan with their news and rewards.

Iain rode alongside the cart with the weapons and tools, as well as the gunpowder charges, looking at it all carefully, before speaking to the driver.

"Ye know, McPherson, I'm going tae ask Laird Garreth if ye can ha'e this cart and horse."

"God bless ye Iain, did I do that well?" Hector McPherson replied, smiling with happiness, feeling he was being rewarded for his efforts. 

"Ye did no bad, Hector, but I was thinking if ye had yer own, ye'd stop coming tae my place and stealing mine." then Iain laughed heartily, making the others laugh at Hector as well.

"Och, bugger off, MacDonnell, ye heathen bastard ye." Hector rebutted, then laughed along with the others, knowing Iain was telling the truth and drove his cart happily, already considering it his.

The farmer/warriors made their way slowly along the coast of Duich, travelling over the natural terrain and making for a bumpy ride. They joked of their efforts and success at killing the English, bolstering themselves in bravado, yet each man knew in his heart, he had been spared by the grace of God, that he wasn't one of the five men in the cart. 

James MacRae was less than a mile from the rendezvous at the head of Duich, when riders came to him in haste. MacRae halted the procession and waited for their word.

"Laird MacRae," a title James self-imposed for himself, to show more power to his men, "Yer son's birlinn and two others ha'e landed at the head of Duich. He's been hit wi' an arra, but his armour stopped it from going too deep. They're mending him noo. The Justice is under attack as well. We could hear cannon firing echoing doon the loch tae us. At first we thought it was the men setting charges tae clear the road, but these were bigger and more of them, so knew they had tae be cannon fire. Then Blair's birlinn and the others came down tae us and told us what was happening." the rider relayed as fast as he could.

"What of the battle wi' the Justice, is she still afloat? Will they still make it tae Donan?" James asked of them, concerned about the crucial role she played in his plans.

"She's stuck on a sandbar at the island. Blair said a dozen birlinns were attacking her, but they were taking more damage than they were doing. I was told tae make sure ye knew MacDonald's birlinn was damaged heavily and three others ha'e been damaged or sunk. 

The captain has used some things on them, that has made them scared tae come too close tae them. What word shall I bring tae Blair, m' Laird?"

"I'll ride back wi' ye myself." he told the riders. "I'll meet ye's at the head and go from there." MacRae told the captains and rode off with the two riders back along the glen.

No sooner had the trio of riders rounded the corner of the foothill out of sight, when the stench of skunk started filling the air. The men started to cover their noses from the vile odour, but it seemed to keep getting stronger the further they went on. When the horses started to react and try to back away from the smell, the procession became disorderly and confusion began. Now acting on their instinct for survival, the horses ran from the scene, regardless of the riders commands to halt. Chaos reigned everywhere, as riders tried to get their mounts under control and men ran from the scene to breathe fresher air. Captain Lockstone ordered his men to fire at the animals and drive them away, but the small, furry attackers darted into the thicker underbrush, hiding out of sight. On and on the disgusting odour had the men retching and gasping, as the skunks continued their airborne assault.

The sound of confusion and panic echoed along the mountain passes to the south and west, getting picked up by the group of riders making their way towards them. The riders from the birlinn had made their way along the easiest route towards Duich, only to find themselves confronted with Sgurr Mhic Bharraich, rising over twenty five hundred feet in the air beside them. They began riding along the steep slope, picking their way through the trees, until Gordon MacDonald called an immediate halt and stopped for two reasons. The first was the steep drop off of the mountain side, too steep for the highland ponies to traverse, the other was the sight of three birlinns on the coast and a throng of men a little further inland by the river's edge. Knowing they had stumbled upon the advancing forces, they quickly decided to head back and make their way around the sgurr and through the quickest route. 

As they crested the ridge and started to make their way back, the last riders spotted Lieutenant Handley and his platoon of Pioneers returning to the bivouac area. They called the others back to make a decision to attack them or not. Glendon MacDonald made the decision that made the most sense and let them return and not give themselves away to the others. Knowing Robert and the men were coming from the south passage and up Glen Sheil, the choice was clear to try and meet up with them, so they rode back down the way they came. They followed the winding bern and then swung around the soaring peak, riding up the slope on an angle, cutting off as much distance as they could. They came into a valley between two ridged peaks and followed it east, hoping it came out close to where the men were staging. 

The sounds of panic and disruption echoed off the slopes to them, causing them to pull up and stop. Glendon urged his highland pony to scale the steep slope, until he was near the summit. He dismounted and ducked down, before peering over the ridge to the valley below and the source of the turmoil. Glendon looked on in wonderment at the scene before him, wondering what could have caused half the formation to break apart and scatter the way they did. He turned to the far end of the glen and saw the first riders coming through and knew Robert and his men would ride into danger, before they knew what awaited them. Judging the distance to be over four miles away, he turned and whistled a bird-like signal to the men. He motioned for them to join him where he was and soon, sixty riders were making their way up to the plateau ridge, then on towards the oncoming riders. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 44



Their vantage point gave them an excellent view of the area and Gordon pulled up and turned towards the loch. From where he was, he could see the first stages of the MacRae army massing and once the source of the disruption was taken care of, the eight hundred plus strong force would be joining up with them and the battle would soon be at Donan's gate. Gordon rode up to the front and rode beside his brother, Glendon.

"We must make it tae them before they're seen by that army. They'll ne'er stand any chance if they are. If we ride down the slope now, we'll be able tae get tae them in time." he told Glendon, knowing what he proposed was extremely dangerous. 

Gordon looked back at the riders and knew his brother's thoughts were founded, but he worried the newcomers wouldn't know how to traverse a steep slope, the way the locals did. He weighed out the risk of not going as suggested and knew they wouldn't make it in time. He gave his brother a look that he understood and worried about their safety, then turned his horse towards the slope and made his way down through the trees. The others followed in single file, the horses stepping carefully over the rocky terrain. The chaos behind them continued out of sight, as they continued down the slope, knowing one wrong step meant death. 

Finnian Gallagher was the unfortunate one to find out how dangerous their path was. His horse stepped on loose stone, causing his mount to stumble. The more he tried to correct it, the worse the horse reacted, as it tried to find a foothold. In a moment, it slid over the edge and started tumbling. Finnian clung on to the horse's back, to help right themselves to the slope, then the horse made one last effort to right itself, before falling and crushing its rider beneath it. The horse and rider continued tumbling, breaking small trees and bushes, as gravity continued to pull them over the precipice out of sight. The terrified braying continued for a moment, until the animal crashed onto the trees and rocks several hundred feet below, putting an end to its misery. In as much as Finnian's death weighed on them, their lives were now in jeopardy of being discovered. They held their ground, steadying their horses to stand as still as they could, while they watched the glen for anyone coming to investigate. When they felt it was safe, they took one last look at where Finnian went over and continued down. 

The steep slope gave way to a gentler grade, allowing the need for haste to be met, as they rode towards the oncoming force. Robert and the others in the lead saw the riders coming down to them and took defensive positions of attack. When the clan oath was heard, they knew they were their own and arms were lowered. Gordon rode directly to Robert and stopped beside him.

"Robert, ye can'ne go any further. Around that bend a few miles ahead, is the main force of MacRae's army. We saw them when we made it tae Duich and were riding around tae a passage behind them." Gordon told him in haste.

"What of yer galley? Why are ye riding?" Robert asked him with concern.

"We took some hits from an English frigate and suffered some losses. We made a decision tae take the horses off at Loch Hourn and use the galley tae carry the dead and wounded. We've been riding through the passes tae meet up wi' ye's. When we saw ye coming down the glen, we knew ye would ride tae yer deaths if we did'ne stop ye's in time. We lost a man trying tae ride down that buggering slope tae make it tae ye, but we knew the risk of trying was more important than the danger." Gordon told him, his face showing the pain of loss.

"How far ahead is MacRae's army? Did ye see how many there are?" Robert asked, wanting to know what they faced ahead of them.

"Robert, it looks like close tae a thousand men and horses. They're just up ahead two miles on, just around the end of that foothill. They ha'e birlinns on the coast and two cannons as well. We need tae take those bastard things out, so they can'ne use them on the castle, but how?" Gordon informed him, wondering as well how they could stop the attack.

"The only way I know, is tae take out the horses pulling them. Wi'out them, the guns will ne'er go anywhere." he said plainly, knowing it was easier said than done.

"How can we do that, Robert? We'll ne'er get close enough tae fire on them." Gordon challenged.

"All of us might not get close enough, but a small group can. Ten archers can ride ahead of them and wait in ambush in the trees. By the time they know where the arras are coming from, the horses will be down and the men can make it back intae the woods fer safety. If they're lucky, they can take out MacRae as well." Robert explained and saw a dawning of his plan come across Gordon.

"E'en if we do take out the guns, how can we get past them and reach the castle? They'll ha'e our way blocked wi' no way around them." Gordon challenged next.

"We won't go around them, cousin. We'll trail behind them out of sight and wait till they're close tae the castle before we attack from behind. If God is wi' us, the others in the castle and stationed along the coast will be attacking and we can surprise them. Those birlinns ye talked of, will be our way up the loch. A group of men can sail them tae Donan and warn the others of MacRae's approach." 

"Robert, there's something else ye need tae know." Gordon remembered.

"What's that, Gordon?" Robert replied, thinking hard on the situation.

"The MacLean's ha'e joined us. Lady Arabella has gi'en them a chance tae prove their loyalty tae us again. I know it's because they were once kin, but bad blood has come between us and I'm not sure it can be erased." 

Cannon fire echoed along the loch and down the glen to them, stopping Gordon from saying more.

"That's coming from Alsh. The frigate must ha'e made it there and is firing on the birlinns still. Robert, Knock's been demolished. They bombed it wi' everything they had. There's hardly a hope that a man is alive." Gordon said with remorse, his hopes his clansmen had taken the ship before this, dashed from fruition.

"Then we ha'e no time tae waste talking anymore, Gordon." he told him, the rage beginning to seethe in him and turned to face the men. "I need ten archers tae ride ahead and take out the horses pulling the cannons and supplies and God willing, MacRae as well, then ride fer Donan and let them know they're coming and we're behind them." 

In moments, every archer came forward at the order. Robert looked at each one and began picking who he felt knew the area well enough and were up to the task. He gave them his plans and without hesitation, they rode across the glen and began making their way along the foothills into the trees, staying out of sight of the army ahead. Higher and higher they climbed, until they crested the peak and rode along it to the far side of the range, far enough ahead to set up their place of attack. They came to a burn running down the side of the slope and made their way down along it. 

Turning east, they rode behind cover of the sloping ridge that made its way to the coast. It didn't take much looking to find an area that gave them an advantage to shoot from and remain undercover, as well as a means of retreat and escape. Once again, the irony of the Pioneers work provided them with the perfect ambush. Riding hard to make it in time, the ten clansmen tore through the trees and onto the makeshift bridge, crossing the River Croe, as the procession came around the point and followed the road made just three days ago.

Robert and Gordon had the men dismount and rest their horses, while they discussed what to do. They were vastly outnumbered and an attack would be futile to try, being close to five to one against. Glendon made a suggestion to ride ahead and keep watch on the army, taking note of their movements. He and two others mounted up and rode towards the hills they had just come down, looking for an easier way to go back up. The agile horses made their way up slowly, the riders keeping a sharp lookout for pitfalls and enemy lookouts. They hadn't made it that far up, when they came across the horse and Finnian that had fallen. The mass of the animal's body lay over the dead highlander, only a hand and foot sticking out from under it, to show he was there. 

Blood trailed slowly from the scene, a mix of man and animal life force staining the rocky ground, as the flies began to swarm. It gave them rise to be as careful as possible, remembering how one small misstep had caused his death. There were no trees or bushes to tie the horses to so high up on the rocky peak, so Brennan collected the reins and led them down almost a hundred feet, well into the first trees for a place to stand comfortably in the growing heat. Glendon and Connor started surveying the area, taking stock of all that they saw below them. 

The march to the castle had started and Glendon worried if the advance team was in position yet. The three watched as one group broke off with one cannon and proceeded along the west shore where they had seen the Pioneers come down, while the rest of the army, still over nine hundred strong, began the long trek to the far side of the loch and cross over River Croe, before swinging north to their destination. While the battle took hold of the men's thoughts, thoughts of family and friends now gone, weighed on Robert's mind. 

 *******************************

"I'll stop there for a minute and take a wee break for a mo'. Is everyone okay? Need tae take a stretch or anything?" Stuart asked the guests. 

Everyone seemed content to sit and listen to him, so Stuart took the time to finish his tea and went to start in again and looked at Sean, eagerly sitting on the edge of his seat and waiting for more.

"I see yer quite liking all of this, Sean. I guess it's a bit more interesting than what ye learn in yer classes at school." Stuart quipped to him.

"No kidding, Sir. This is awesome. I didn't think history could be exciting to learn, but this is blowing me away. I bet Mom and Dad would be happier too, because I'd actually pay attention in history class." he quipped back and looked at his parents and smiled, who gave him a concerned look in return at his disclosure.

"Ye can call me Uncle Stuart, lad. I may be the Chieftain, but it's only a title tae throw about." he said laughing, then winked at Sean and smiled, who happily smiled back. "I'm glad yer liking it though son, that's half the battle in learning anything. It's hard tae pay attention tae some dolt, who just prattles on about things and does'ne get intae the good stuff. When Tavish was teaching, no one missed any of his classes. Wait till he takes o'er and tells ye of things. E'en Mr. Stewart here tells a grand tale, so he does." Stuart told him and the others.

"Thank ye, Stuart. Very kind of ye tae say so." Argus said, bowing his head for the compliment.

"They sure do, Sean. Deb and I have been listening to what went on for three days now and let me tell you, I can't get enough and I know Deb can't either. All we wanted to know was why the MacRae's and MacLeod's and MacDonald's were all fighting and we've been treated to the most amazing stories. I know you don't like the idea of telling it all again, Uncle Stuart, but it really is something to consider doing. Our history should be kept alive for future generations to know and you three guys can tell it better than anyone else. It's something to consider, is all I'm saying." Tom finished with, looking at his uncle with a sense of hope he would do it.

"I don't know, Tom. As ye know, it's taken us three days and we're no done yet. It's up tae Argus and Tav, if they want tae do it, but I'll consider doing it. I ha'e tae agree wi' yer thoughts of the future and not letting this come tae fade intae the past." he agreed.

"I'm willing tae sit and do it, Stuart. I've got little tae do most days, so it's no a problem fer me. As long as no one minds my croaking, I'll do my best tae make it interesting." Argus confirmed, making everyone smile at the thought of hearing it from the beginning.

All eyes turned to Tavish, who was still looking hesitant towards it. He looked at the faces pleading with him and finally gave in and said he'd do it too. Cheers and applause broke out and the new guests thanked them for their efforts. Stuart smiled happily, but the thought of all the effort, was showing in his eyes, before starting back in.

"Okay, we'll talk of that later, so let's get back tae what's about tae happen at Glen Sheil. Eh, where was I? Oh yes, Robert and his lot, along wi' Gordon and his, were waiting behind the slope out of view, while MacRae had started fer Donan. Glendon, Connor and Brennan returned and talked wi' Robert and Gordon about the army splitting wi' one cannon and at least a hundred men, while the rest started fer the castle. They had left sixty men tae guard the birlinns and the wounded Blair, giving him time tae recover, before returning tae battle."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 45



Robert and the men watched patiently, waiting for the last of the foot soldiers to make it over the last mounding ridge, before they rode for the birlinns. He hoped the archers would keep the army occupied defending themselves and not take notice of the attack behind them. When the sounds of shouts and confusion echoed back to them, Robert knew the attack had begun and silently wished his men well, then signalled Gordon to go for the birlinn. 

As quietly as they could, Gordon and thirty men made their way through the trees towards the coast, staying out of sight as long as possible, before they had to make an open attack. Some of the men were sitting in the birlinns, while others sat on shore. Blair was lying on the ground, resting against a fallen tree, joking with the men that it would take more than an arrow from a MacDonald to kill him. Talk turned to killing MacDonald's in the most heinous of means, each trying to outdo the last in the method they'd use. While the men laughed about torturing the MacDonald's, they themselves had come close enough to hear what they were saying. 

Three hundred feet lay between the enemies, most of it open land, but a great deal was boggy ground, bared during low tide. The breaking of dried branches under the hooves of the horses alerted the men on shore, stopping the laughter. Swords were drawn and eyes searched everywhere for the cause of the sound. Knowing their cover was gone, Gordon gave the order to charge out of the trees, racing out with swords brandished and swinging in circles. Wild yelling filled the air and echoed off the steep slopes surrounding them. The men were caught off guard and never expected so many attackers. They raced for the birlinns and succeeded in launching two of them, all sixty men pushing hard, their feet getting mired in the boggy ground. 

Gordon and his men raced towards them and suddenly found the ground was unable to support their weight and the horses began stumbling. Quickly they rose, covered in bog and made for the abandoned birlinn. Blair had the men row hard out to open water, as archer's arrows started finding their way into the craft. Sails were raised and oars were plied with all the strength the men could muster. The breeze coming out of Glen Sheil gave them much needed speed, as Gordon and his men finally pushed the mired boat off the boggy ground and set it afloat. The oars were set in their locks and quickly rowed, as the birlinn came around and raised it's sail. The count was given and the strokes measured for maximum speed. Spray began to rise over the bow, as the birlinn rode from one wave to the next. 

Glendon led fifty men along the coast, wanting to catch up to the cannon and stop it from making its destination. Keeping the high treeline between them, Glendon made it past them unseen and set up a crossfire ambush. Captain Lockstone almost rode into the narrow gap, but turned his horse and rode back to the rear of the line. He looked back at the path taken and watched for anyone following behind. It was always on his mind to remember how the road travelled can change, when you leave a place and danger can become your travelling companion. Satisfied that no one was coming, he started back for the head of the line, when he saw the first archers rising up and taking aim. 

Before he could shout a warning, ten arrows were let loose and sank deep into the sides and necks of the lead team. The cannon stopped and the line began to cascade into the rear, as the silent attack took them unaware. Lockstone shouted for muskets to the flanks and charge the archers. In the short time it took to scale the mounds, the archers were already gone, riding on to their next point of attack. The dead animals were unyoked and pulled to the side, while others were taken from the supply carts and used in their place. Soldiers were positioned on the flanks, their muskets ready for anyone who surprised them again. Lockstone ordered a rider to go ahead and scout for ambushes, or any place they could use for one. Men were put to the task of making up for the oxen lost and helped push the carts and cannon forward.

Glendon had six men dismount and take stations behind fallen logs and cover themselves with branches and leaves. Their chance of escaping would be harder this time, their only recourse being the thick woods around them and making it through it to their horses again. Each man readied his dorlochis so he could ready another arrow in the shortest time. Glendon had their horses tied a hundred yards away, keeping them far enough away to not be spotted, but also to give his men as good a chance of escaping as he could. He judged the distance visually, then said a quiet prayer in their honour, before quickly riding on. 

The scouts came close a few minutes later, as they scanned the area carefully. Two stopped beside a hidden clansmen and discussed the possibilities of where an attack could come from. He lay motionless and held his breathing to an absolute minimum, doing his best not to give away his precarious position, hoping to God he wasn't seen and butchered where he lay. The sound of brush being cleared away quickly signalled him his other ambushers had decided to attack the scouts. He judged their position to him and rose to his knees quickly, as he took aim. The scout he had in his sights was facing away, but turned as he heard the noise. The clansmen let loose his arrow, the short distance travelled in less than a second. The point pierced the underside of the scout's jaw and entered his brain, before rising through the top of his skull and toppling him off his horse. 

The other was taken down by two arrows in quick succession by two others and had him laying close beside the other. As the other two scouts rode back to defend their own, the other archers rose up and felled them as they rode by. As quickly as they could, they ran a sword through the fallen, then their bodies were dragged away and hidden, while their horses were sent running away into the woods. The clansmen made their way through the dense woods to their horses and mounted up with haste. Smiles were easily worn as they started riding away, but several shots roared out and took two away. 

The enemy riders who were scouting higher up had spotted the attack and dismounted, making their way down silently. As the others continued to ride away faster, a couple turned their heads back in time to see their own have swords run through them, equalling their own deeds. Smiles vanished, loss bringing back the grim reality to them, as the four raced up into the hills and trees to the next rendezvous point. Glendon's face paled at seeing only four men return, then scanned the faces for his nephew, Daniel, only to feel his heart sink to despair at not seeing him. Gordon would be devastated to know of the loss of his eldest son and telling him would cause just as much grief to him as well. Sadly, he said nothing and stayed to the task at hand, but worried for his own son, Cavendish, who was back with Robert's men and unaware he had volunteered and been chosen to go ahead and ambush MacRae's forces. 

"How many did ye take out?" he asked the men as they came to him.

"Four scouts. We were riding away, when muskets took out two of ours. Glendon, I'm sorry fer yer loss, we did'ne know they had riders up in the treeline watching fer us. Danny was one of them. They did him quick at least and no let him suffer. Same as Scott Kirkpatrick. He was dead before he fell off his horse. I was looking at him when he was hit, the shot tore through his chest and left a gaping hole in him." Jacob Pollock told him sadly, knowing how close Glendon was with his nephew.

"We've no more spots we can ambush from. If we try tae stop them, it's a full attack, man tae man and we don't ha'e enough men tae hold them fer long." Glendon told them.

"We ha'e tae do something. We can'ne just let them fire that cannon at Donan and just sit and watch it happen." Jacob responded, letting him know grief and hardship were a part of battle. From up on the ridge, the chase on Loch Duich unfolded before them. 

Blair's birlinn began heading for the west point of Duich and the other followed close behind, as Gordon and his men closed in on them two hundred yards back. Blair knew there was no escape from attack, so he headed for the only protection he could think of. The gunnery command watched the birlinns racing towards them, their muskets and bows aimed at them, in fear they weren't friendly. Blair shouted out to Lockstone, who ordered his men to stand down and guard their flanks. Once he came abreast from them, Blair told Lockstone to train his gun on the birlinn coming up the loch behind them.

"Blow they bastards out of the water, Lockstone. We ha'e enough birlinns, we won't miss that one." 

"Gunners, train on the birlinn coming towards us. Incendiary shot to be fired." he ordered and the wheels were spun to rotate the barrel so it was lined up for the birlinn soon approaching. 

The crew went to their tasks and loaded the barrel with charge, wadding and shot in precision time. The elevation was set and the torch bearer awaited with a slow match for Lockstone's command. Blair and the other boat rounded the point and pulled into the small cove. As Gordon and the men approached the area, the order was given and smoke belched out of the clearing with a deafening roar. In the beat of a heart, the shot closed the two hundred and fifty yard distance and exploded on the port side bow, demolishing it in splinters and flames. Gordon was blown thirty feet away into the water, as the ones rowing closest to the bow were shredded and dismembered. 

Gordon felt his skin charring on his face, before he hit the water and began to sink. The chilly waters instantly cooled his skin, but he struggled to rise to the surface. His armour and weapons were weighing him down and knew he would drown if he didn't take them off. The water grew colder and colder as he sank, his hands tearing away his belts and armour, then stripping his kilt and his shredded tunic off. His descent stopped and Gordon kicked and swam as hard as he could, the searing pain in his lungs letting him know he was out of breath. With nothing but the desire to live left in him, 

Gordon broke the surface and drew in the life giving air. Fighting to stay afloat, he breathed in and then felt the pain in his face return. Finding a plank of wood, he held on to it and made for the remains of the birlinn and safety and the cheering men on board. The men had all moved to the back, bringing the dead and wounded with them, keeping the shattered bow out of the water enough to stay afloat. Gordon dragged himself through the water to waiting hands and was pulled aboard. He raised his head to them and saw the look of horror on their faces, letting him know the pain in his face confirmed his thoughts.

"Bad?" was all he asked in a weak groan.

"It's, it's...gone Gordon. Yer skin is all blown away from the blast. No, don't try tae touch it. It'll only hurt worse. Just leave it be and we'll tend tae ye best we can." Archie MacLachlan told him, keeping his hands away.

Archie had farmed the area beside him for as long as Gordon had and knew him well to see him. As he looked down at the face looking at him, there wasn't a shred of anything that looked like Gordon MacDonald. A few men used the oars to paddle towards shore, making for a chance to protect themselves and provide aid. 

Glendon saw the carnage and had to make a decision quickly. From out of cover of the trees, twenty or so men were making their way towards their fallen clansmen. They judged the fastest route down and made it with all haste. They broke from the cover of the tree line and raced over open ground, but far back from the attackers and no chance to beat them to their stricken clansmen.

The alarm went up that men were approaching and the wounded were left to fend for themselves, as the men took up arms to defend them. With five dead and seven wounded, their numbers weren't enough to stand a chance of surviving long. As the attackers made their way towards them, a savage scream rose from behind the defensive line. Breaking past in a mad dash, Gordon, naked, his face peeling away, a Claymore high over his head, brought the advancing force to a stop in terror. 

Thinking it a demon or ghoul, they turned and took flight back along the coast. The others joined in and pursued them screaming maniacally as well. Before they knew what had happened, Glendon and his riders were upon them with blades slashing. Gordon and the others arrived and bodies became hewn and dismembered as they killed every one. When the killing was done, the riders looked at the hideous creature before them, gurgling and hissing as it tried to breathe.

"What manner of demon is this? How does it come tae be wi' us?" Glendon asked, taken aback by the sight, not knowing it was his own brother.

Before anyone could speak, Glendon heard his name spoken through the distorted voice. He looked at the thing before him and recognized the voice as his brother's. In a troubled and questioning voice, he spoke back.

"Gordon?" 

Gordon weakly nodded and dropped the sword from his hands. Even in horror at his sight, Glendon dismounted quickly and stripped his robe off, wrapping his brother in it, holding him closely.

"We're in no position to defend, let alone attack. We must see tae Gordon and the others and get tae safety." Glendon yelled out.

They helped Gordon up onto Glendon's lap, so he could hold him, knowing he was too weak to hold on by himself. Gordon clung to his brother, as they rode the short distance back to the others and helped them up onto horses and rode them back a few miles to a flat clear area out of view. Carefully they lowered Gordon onto robes and covered him with more. Glendon sat so his brother's head rested on his leg and asked the others what happened to him.

"We were chasing Blair MacRae and another birlinn, when cannon fire took us out. Gordon was blown clear off the bow, but the charge stuck tae his face and burned it away. It's by God's wish that he's alive at all." Angus MacDonnell told him sadly, but with astonishment. Glendon looked down at the morbidity his brother had become and tried to fathom the pain he was in. To see him charging like that, now knowing his state, his admiration for his brother's courage grew. He held his brother's hand tightly and felt him squeeze harder in return.

"I need five of ye's tae stay wi' me and the rest ride tae Robert and tell him what's happened. See if there's a man among them that can see tae Gordon and the others and ha'e him ride back." he told them and tried not to look at any one man.

Jacob, Angus and Lachlan stood forward immediately and went to assisting the wounded, then Brice MacIntaggert and his son, Robert knelt beside him and the others bowed and rode off. The six men looked at each other and wanly smiled, knowing that their lives were in the balance of life and death. Any attackers that came over the rise to them, would more than outnumber them and mean certain death. 

"Robbie, go tae the rise and watch fer anyone coming fer us." his father told him, as he went to help Jacob pull a piece of wood from a man's back.

******************************

"Okay, that's what's happened on the west coast, now back tae MacRae's march tae Donan, or do ye want more birlinn action?" Stuart let them decide.

The men wanted birlinn action, while the women wanted to know what happened at the castle. Only Deb was curious enough to ask where Therese and the French were at this point. 

"Tavish, ye know what happened better than I do. I tend tae like more of the castle tales, while Tav likes the sea battles and such. Argus, he likes tae let ye know people were'ne nice tae each other back then. So off ye go, Tav and bring things up tae speed wi' everybody about the French and the birlinns, then I'll get back intae the march." Stuart told them and motioned for Tavish that he had the floor. Tavish looked at the rapt faces once more and set in to the story, looking to keep them that way.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 46



Therese stood on the foredeck with Captain Jean-Louis La Pierre, trying to remember which inlet was the right one to Tioram. Passing the Isle of Coll, she remembered the way when she came with Sorley. Sailing between the mainland and Muck, the captain used all of his navigational skills to travel in the unknown waters. Therese smiled happily and bounced on her feet when she recognized the entrance to Moidart. La Pierre had the men sound the area for depth and saw the sandbars dotting the channel. He had the ships drop sail and weigh anchor, before setting a rowboat over the side, while Therese and himself sat in the seats. Four sailors plied the oars, as they were slowly rowed to Tioram, Therese getting more anxious the closer they came.

The sails were spotted and the call rang out, bringing Arabella from her chambers, to race to the high tower. She studied the small craft and the passengers aboard, trying to make out who it was. She could make out the bright, blue dress Therese was wearing and knew it was her, but she stayed long enough to make out the regalia of the officer's uniform sitting beside her. She left the tower and raced down the stone steps as fast as she could and out of the castle. The rowers raised oars as the keel slid ashore. Arabella was waiting for the captain to help Therese over the side, before she quickly hugged her and wanted to know why she was there.

"Mon souer, my comrades have come to rescue me and now they are taking me to Donan to protect Garreth, now that he is an ally of France. Come, Arabella. Come with these men and we can save our men from battle. I do not remember the way to the castle Donan and I need you to guide us." Therese told her in excited urgency.

Arabella looked at her friend and then the captain.

"Is this true? Yer going tae sail tae Donan and do battle against MacRae wi' us?" Arabella asked him pointedly.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Arabella. Madame Therese has pled with her highness, Princess Margaret and it is agreed we are to defend Laird Garreth at her request." La Pierre told her.

"My sweet, Therese, how can I ever repay yer kindness tae us. Let's talk no more and be away then." she told her and hugged her quickly, before climbing on board the long row boat.

"I must warn ye, Captain La Pierre, there is a frigate that is there now and we face danger in attacking it." Arabella warned him.

La Pierre laughed at hearing Arabella's worries. "My dear Lady, a frigate has but no more than sixty cannons aboard. I have one hundred and twenty and two frigates myself with sixty guns each. Their shot won't do any damage to me, as the hull is too thick for their shot to do damage." he told her.

Arabella looked at him and then to the huge ship outside the entrance and the two smaller vessels along each side. Three rows of gun ports were open and barrels at the ready, letting Arabella know the captain was being serious in his boast. The closer they came, the more imposing the ship was in size. The warship's crew threw down lines to secure the rowboat to them, while the four crew scaled the rope netting to the deck. On his order, the men raised the boat from the water and secured it to the side rigging. The ladies were helped aboard and then the captain stepped on deck.

"Raise sails and set a course for Eilean Donan Castle in Loch Alsh. Have all cannons readied and await my command." La Pierre shouted to his next in line.

Immediately sails were raised and the sounds of crews tending to their cannons was heard below them. The other two ships, L'Insurgente and L'Vengeance, were doing the same and in little time, all three were making their way up the Sound of Sleat. Therese and Arabella stood with the captain and gave directions to enter the loch and which route to take, to avoid shallow waters and the island in the middle. From behind them, a commotion arose and they turned towards it to see what it was. 

Immediately the captain removed his hat and bowed, then Therese bowed elegantly, pulling Arabella to join her, to which Arabella curtseyed her finest that schooling had taught her. The finely dressed young woman looked about at the coast and then to the ladies still bowed to her. Before she came within earshot, Therese had told Arabella it was Princess Margaret of Valois, sister of the king, to which Arabella wanted to know why she didn't say she was here.

"Rise, Lady Therese and this must be your friend, Lady Arabella MacDonald." she said smiling, allowing the exchange of kissing on the cheeks, before she turned her attention to the crimson haired beauty of Arabella.

Margaret looked her over from head to toe admiringly, before commenting.

"Lady Therese hasn't done you enough justice in describing you to me. I am most certainly jealous of you already." her highness told her, then saw Arabella's face flash a look of concern, to which she giggled playfully, before looking at Arabella's bountiful breasts suggestively.

Arabella chuckled happily at that and her breasts bounced as she did. That caused the women to laugh and the men to wonder about them.

"Come ladies, it is far too windy on deck for me. I will say this, Lady Arabella, your country has very magnificent scenery to look at." she said looking at the coast, on their way to her stateroom. 

*****************************

"Excuse me, Tavish, sorry for interrupting, but how did a Princess end up sailing to Scotland to rescue Therese?" Taylor asked him, the others just as interested.

"Och well, a wee a bit about that then, before we go on. Okay, at that time, Henri the third was the king, but do tae his, eh, hmm, dalliances and preferences, shall we say," he paused, keeping it civil for Sean's ears, "his mother, Catherine de Medici, his sister, Margaret and a few others, actually ran the country instead of him. Mother and daughter both enjoyed the oils and vinegars that Therese's estates produced and gave their seal of approval on them, After hearing of Therese's parents being murdered and the estate in jeopardy, it was Margaret who took interest in the case and of course, Therese. When she heard of her kidnapping and forced return tae Scotland, she took great offence tae the action and saw tae it herself. From what she wrote about it, she looked at it as an adventure. Despite the dangers she faced after agreeing tae go tae Donan, she felt assured her guns outranked anything the English could be sailing and of course, she was right. The Ville de Lyon was a man o' war, one that had proven her might against English ships before."

********************************

Cheers went up from the men of the cannon battery along with Blair and his men, as the Justice sailed past. The crew of the Justice waved back and it was only a matter of time and position, before the cannons roared from the frigate and began pounding the walls of Donan. Soldiers and clansmen took positions along the coast, in case any birlinns pulled ashore in hopes of attack. The birlinns continued their pursuit, not coming within range of the hidden forces, as they dogged behind, waiting to find a means of attacking the larger vessel.

James MacRae and Captain Rennie rode at the head of the line and had come to the bridge built by their Pioneers. With no reason to suspect anything, they rode over the wooden platform and onto the opposite side of River Croe. The passage was slow, as animals stuttered in their steps, feeling the movement of the platform under their hooves. MacRae and the captain moved to the side and watched the progression. The first of the carts and then the cannon came across and continued on, as the troops and cavalry waited to cross behind. The archers sat behind the bushes twenty yards away and watched patiently, as their targets came within the killing zone. MacRae and Rennie made their way to the head of the line to form ranks again, as the carts and cannon pulled towards the archers to let the main body pass. In a whistling strike, the oxen pulling the cannon were felled and two others pulling supplies. 

Before anyone knew what had happened, another volley streaked out and started finding men and horse. With all swiftness, the archers were back to their horses and riding hard for the pass at the far side of Gleann Lichd. MacRae heard them riding from behind the cover of the trees and was first to spot them. He ordered his riders to hunt them down and make sure none lived. The open land was flat and even, giving to a full out race of man against man, horse against horse. Clods of soft soil were thrown up by the hooves, as they sought purchase and speed, the riders urging them for all they had. It was a thousand yards to the start of the mountain pass by Sgurr an Airgid and they had covered half of the way, but MacRae's riders were closing on them. Cavendish MacDonald felt his tunic being pulled and looked down to see an arrow had passed through it. 

He looked back and saw two of the riders trying to take aim at him and Dougall, so he shouted out to the others and warned of arrows coming. They started to spread out more and ride in curving lines. The pass was right in front of them now and they knew they would lose the riders and their heavier horses, against the fleeter highland ponies that were used to the terrain. Without any cause or reason, the ponies seemed to have more speed and began pulling away from the pursuers. The riders urged their horses for more speed, but the archers kept pulling away from them.

MacRae and the others watched the pursuit and knew it would be close. From where they were, it looked as though they rode together and it was only moments before they would see riders dropping. In his hopes for it to happen, he began chanting, "Kill them," as he watched. Cavendish and the others started into the beginning of the pass, when they heard the shrieking of the horses behind them. They ventured a quick look and discovered all the horses had stopped dead and wouldn't ride any further. Covering a distance safe enough to stop, they stopped and turned to see what was causing it. For no apparent reason, the horses were turning around and walking back the way they had come, despite the commands and whipping the riders gave them to do otherwise. They watched for a moment more in disbelief, before they turned and rode through the pass, past the sgurr and down to the other side by Keppoch, before turning north and making their way to the castle. The rider's horses walked the entire way back and stopped in front of MacRae.

"Why did ye's break off chase and come back?" James roared at them, confused to no end at seeing what he did.

"The horses stopped by themselves. No matter what we did, they would'ne move. Ye saw us yerself trying tae get them tae go. It was like something had come up in front of us and the horses would'ne pass. E'en when we wanted tae ride back, they would'ne do anything more than walk. I can'ne explain it." his son, Lachlan tried explaining to him.

MacRae shook his head in disbelief and told them all to get back in formation. He looked at Rennie and he was shaking his head as well. They turned to see the cannon and carts were hitched with new animals, their riders looking upset now at the prospect of walking the rest of the way to Donan and ordered the march to proceed again. 

On top of Beinn Bhuidhe, before the first of the five sisters, Robert and the men watched the entire scene play out before them. Turning to the west, they saw riders coming back down the coast of Duich at full gallop. They knew it was their men and Robert sent two men to meet them and find out their news. Slowly the two made their way towards them down the steep slope and hailed them. The riders quickly made their way to them and pulled up. The two saw the desperate looks on their faces and knew they had found trouble.

"We need aid tae help the wounded. Some of the men are in bad shape and need tending tae right away. Glendon and the men are o'er there, just before that ridge. His brother, Gordon is in a state that will tear at yer souls, I swear. His face has been burnt away and he's ready tae see God soon if he does'ne get help. Tell Robert we need more men tae fend off anyone they sent after us and someone who knows what tae do fer aid." Kenneth Jacobson told him, his face showing the need his words spoke.

One turned and rode back up as fast as his pony could climb, while the other listened to what had happened during the attack. The movement of MacRae's army making their way around the point at the base of Sgurr an Airgid caught their attention and stopped the conversation. No words needed to be spoken, to know that death was making its way to Donan's bridge and the men inside.

The sound of hooves coming towards them broke them from their thoughts and they saw forty riders breaking from the treeline. Kenneth sighed a sense of relief at seeing them and knew his friends had a chance now. He led the clansmen at full gallop back along their route, wanting nothing more than to know their safety was assured.

Robbie was rapt in attention, watching the chase happen and then turned back to keep watch for attackers. It took no time to see a charge of at least thirty cavalry soldiers coming towards him. He gauged the distance away to be two miles, but they were moving fast and he knew they would be upon them in minutes. Turning, he quickly ran as fast as he could, screaming for his father, Brice. Brice came out from under cover of the bushes and looked at his son running towards him.

"Da, they're coming. At least thirty heavily armed cavalry this time. We don'ne stand a chance against them. What should we do?" he asked in panic.

"Come, get a bowis and dorlochi and we'll fend them off and maybe lead them away from the men." he told him, as they made it back to the bushes. 

Robbie quickly explained what was happening and Jacob joined them with the only other bow. They mounted up and rode behind the treeline back to where Robbie had been. 

Second Lieutenant Ernest Millington led with the spotter who had followed the men after the attack. He pointed out the area where the men were hiding and Millington led them that way. Brice, Robbie and Jacob took positions behind the last of the dense trees and waited, as the cavalry approached. Sitting on their horses, they saw them coming closer and took aim at the first riders. Three streaks blurred the air and stopped deep in their targets. Millington fell immediately, clutching his neck to stem the flow pumping from it. 

The spotter's last sight was the tip of the arrow penetrating his right eye and ending his life, as he twitched violently for a moment, then fell off. One cavalry rider slumped over, but held on to his horse, as the riders rode past, before understanding what happened and what to do. The three had rearmed and were taking aim at the next three targets, releasing their missiles and watching three more riders drop. Confusion was still rife among them, until several ordered the others to attack into the trees. The three heard the charge ordered and quickly made their way away from the others and into the rising beinn.

The cavalry split into two groups and one chased the three up the ever-steepening rise, while the others continued to where they were told the injured clansmen were.

Without knowing it, the three had created enough of a disruption to allow Kenneth and the others to close the distance and were only five hundred yards away from where Glendon and the others were. 

The twelve cavalry rode hard up the rising slope, heading straight for Glendon. They crested the rise and instead of a half dozen men hiding in bushes awaiting slaughter, sixty riders were bearing down on them, less than two hundred yards away. Kenneth led the charge straight at them, swords brandished and ready to strike. Glendon watched along with the others, as Fate allowed them to live a little while longer.

The cavalry were instantly surrounded by thrashing blades, hacking and stabbing at them. With the odds at five to one, it took less than five minutes and every horse was bloodied and riderless. Bodies were quickly scavenged for all blades and armour, their purpose once again to protect the living. 

An old man approached the bushes where the injured were and took a large satchel from around his neck. He rounded the last bush and saw for himself the state Gordon MacDonald was in. He lay gasping in his brother's arms, his seared flesh reeking the air around them, then looked into Glendon's eyes, the look of mercy pleading from them.

"I am Griffin, healer fer my clan, the McGuire's. I know how tae take the pain from his burns. I'll be back wi' something."

He ran from the cover and headed for the shore, scouting along it until he saw what he wanted. Wading in to his waist, he began uprooting kelp leaves, until he had enough and raced back. As fast as his gnarled hands could work, he cut the lengths into one foot pieces and began ever so lightly placing them over the burnt flesh. Gordon screamed out at the sensation and tried to remove them, but Glendon held his hands away and let the kelp start to ease the burn's damage. Tears began filling the eyes of the men, as their empathy for Gordon came out. Most turned away, as Gordon's screams pierced the air, filling it with the sounds of his pain and agony.

Brice, Robbie and Jacob rode hard up the steep incline, pushing their ponies as hard as they could. Their efforts were paying off and they were leaving their pursuers farther behind them. Knowing their escape was inevitable, one soldier took aim with his bow and let loose his arrow. Brice turned to tell Robbie he thought they had made it clear, when the arrow pierced his son's shoulder and sent him forward on the horse. Brice quickly took the reins and led his son higher, following Jacob closely. Knowing his son was only injured and not dead, he told Jacob to take Robbie's reins and turned his horse. As fast as he could, he had his bow ready and an arrow aimed at the soldier with the bow in his hand. 

Pulling back as hard as he could, he steadied his arm and then found his mark. In a second, the arrow was out of his fingers and whistling straight and true to its target. The soldier flew off the back of his horse, as they arrow slammed into his head and drove its way through the other side. In a flash, Brice had another arrow out and pulled back on it. Again the faint whistle marked the end of another life, as the lead soldier dropped, the arrow making its way through his armour and lodging deep into his chest. Brice felled two more, before turning and riding up to Jacob and Robbie, the pursuers reluctant to continue chasing and returned to assist the others.

"Will ye be alright, son?" Brice asked his son in desperation.

"Aye, Da. I can'ne move my arm though." he told his father, wincing through his words.

"We'll ha'e tae ride tae safety, before we can see tae yer wound, boy. Just see tae yerself and I'll lead ye" he told his son and took the reins from his hand.

The three moved higher to the ridge and began backtracking towards the others, hoping they were still alive. They came down where the ridge was and at first, halted under cover of the trees, as they spotted the horses. Jacob was first to recognize familiar voices and made for them. Brice led his son close behind and were soon welcomed back by the men and then quickly, helped Robbie from his horse and began tending to his wound. His screams were warranted, as the arrow dragged flesh and muscle with it as they pulled it out. Compress was applied to stem the flow and then wrapped in strips of tunic taken from the dead. Litters had been made and the injured lain on them. They tied them to the spare horses and shortly, a slow trek back to where the MacRae's had bivouacked began. Even with more than enough horses for every man to ride, Glendon walked beside his brother, his hand always in contact with him, letting him know he would never leave his side.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 46



The echoes and movement caught their eyes and ears, as MacRae and his army were passing by Inverinate. They watched them with great sadness, knowing they had failed in their part to stop the cannon from firing on Donan. It would be their undoing to dwell on it, as they hadn't noticed the eight remaining soldiers had trailed behind them. As they watched the procession, four arrows streaked towards them and two found marks, dropping the men instantly. 

Quickly the clansmen turned and found where they were, breaking away from remorse and rapidly engaging in battle mode once again. Twenty four peeled away from the group and a head long charge was underway. The soldiers could see there was no further chance of attack and fled towards safety. Their heavy armour weighed them down considerably, their speed no match for the highland ponies. Two dozen blades were raised to strike, as the clansmen bore down on them. The soldiers pulled to a halt, knowing they couldn't outrun them and prepared to fight. As they took defensive positions, they saw the rage in the eyes of the men and a fear grew in every heart, as death was swiftly approaching. 

Screams roared out, as blades clashed with others, while some made their way into flesh and split it open wide. Blood sprayed from sword tips, as they sliced through exposed areas. The clansmen rode past and turned, circling themselves. The soldiers faced out at the clansmen, prepared to fight till the death. Screams rang out again and the clansmen charged in, hacking and stabbing in rage-filled vengeance. Arms that tried to defend, were sliced off by sharp steel, while bodies became gored from points, spilling blood from them in abundance. 

Once more, horses stood riderless and bloodied, as blades and armour were collected from the dead. They rode back, blood still dripping from their clothes, smiling at their success. Their smiles were greeted with ones from the other men, just as happy to know their land was rid of such vile men. Slowly their progress went, as they stopped often to tend to Gordon and their stricken comrades. 

Cavendish and the others rode the newly made roadway towards Donan, unaware of eyes on constant watch of them. They passed the area where the Pioneers had been slaughtered, when they were halted by Iain and his men, blocking the way ahead. 

"I know ye, yer Gordon's boy, aren't ye?" he said to Cavendish, upon recognizing him, "I know many of ye's from the last battle, too." he said looking among the men.

"Good tae see ye, Iain, Stephen." Cavendish replied, recognizing Stephen beside him.

"We ride tae Donan, tae see Laird Garreth. Robert MacDonald awaits on that beinn at the end of the loch wi' o'er two hundred men. Fifty ha'e gone tae the other side o'er there tae stop them from using the cannon. We ambushed MacRae just a while back and barely escaped." Dougall spoke up, pointing to where they were, not caring for pleasantries at this point.

"Robert MacDonald? Is Laird Grayson and Tioram safe?" Iain spoke out quickly, anxious for word from there.

"Aye, all is well at Tioram. We ha'e the Irish wi' us and they've brung birlinn, galley and horse wi' them. O'er three hundred men and arms. They sail now fer here. This ye'll no believe. The MacLean's attacked wi' cannon from their birlinns, but they were defeated and instead of killing them where they stood, Lady Arabella has offered them tae join wi' us and fight against MacRae. I've ne'er seen the likes of it before, but I'm no one tae question the decision of a laird, or lady fer that matter." Dougall informed him. 

"Where is MacRae now?" Iain asked.

Before Dougall or anyone could speak, the rumble of feet and hooves began echoing to them.

"There's no time, my answer's been gi'en. We ride fer Donan in haste." Iain shouted out.

He turned his horse and had it galloping as fast as it could, the others following behind.

****************************

"Och, I need a wee break. It was getting tae be quite the battle going on, wasn't it? Yer quite intae it, aren't ye, Sean?" Tavish told him, after seeing how attentive he was throughout the telling. "Well not tae worry, there's plenty more tae come yet."

Everyone welcomed the break and a suggestion to step out to the courtyard had them heading outdoors. The day had turned out gloriously and a cloudless sky was a vibrant blue, the air fresh and alive with the smells of Spring.

"So ye'll pick it up again, will ye Stuart? Or will I gi'e them a bit of battling my way?" Argus asked, his dark side sneaking out in his smile.

"Och, Argus, can I trust ye tae keep it tae a dull roar? Sean's no old enough tae know the details of battle the way ye like tae tell it." Stuart's worry evident in his tone.

"I promised before tae do that, but I can see he likes tae know more of what went on. Ye'll wash o'er most of it and Tav will just gi'e them a taste. Let me tell them and I promise not tae get too o'er the top wi' it. It was a grand battle, so it was and it should be told as such." Argus beseeched him, his eyes pleading for his cause.

Stuart reluctantly agreed, with a stern finger and a look from him to remind Argus.

"When we go back in, Argus wants tae pick it up where Tav left off. So ye'll get a good telling of the battle and what went on." Stuart announced to them, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

Taylor and Lisa, as well as Tom and Deb all showed a bit of worry after hearing it, while the five newcomers stood in wonderment as to why. Tom saw their looks and told them.

"Argus has a flair for bringing things into vivid clarity, especially gory battle scenes." 

Mark and Gillian began to share the same look of worry as they looked at their son Sean, while his face began to beam, as he imagined what was going to be told.

The day was an invitation to enjoy the gardens for the women and the four made their way through them. The moment gave Deb and Lisa a chance to tell Roberta and Gillian about the sweet romance and the steamy sex that went on, the latter enjoying the ribald tales that were told. By the time they were finished, all four had flushed looks and knowing smiles, as they came back to the courtyard and the men engaging in mock combat.

Stuart saw them coming up and announced they should go back inside now and let Argus give his version of the battle. The men couldn't help notice the looks the women passed between themselves and the smiles that followed. None were the wiser, as they sat down again and noticed Gordon had provided some finger foods to enjoy, along with more refreshments. They all turned to Gordon and smiled, thanking him and receiving a gracious bow in return from him. Argus took a sip of tea and the last bite of his sandwich, before he wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Now, let's set the scene, shall we. Garreth and two hundred archers, along wi' fifty more men manning stations at key points, were in Donan. Up in the hills are three hundred more divided intae groups, waiting fer attack. The Justice is sitting tae the north side of the castle, one cannon o'er on the west side and now the third cannon in place tae the south. MacRae fired the opening salvo and moments later, the air was a deafening roar of cannon fire echoing off the hills. The men in the birlinns had landed out of range and made their way close enough tae fire arrows on the Justice, but they were pretty well useless. It was just at that point that the tides turned and things broke down into an all out blood bath of hand tae hand combat."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 47



The Justice rocked against the anchor chains, as its guns roared, its shots peppering the thick stone walls. Chunks of stone sprayed off the walls, leaving foot deep impressions behind. From the south, MacRae watched as the cannon took shot after shot, until it found the gate. The wood shattered and splintered open with the impact, leaving the castle open to attack. From across Duich, the thirty two pound cannon barraged the west wall, demolishing the new cannon battlement and any means of defence. 

Garreth stood on the west wall remains, looking across at hundreds of men, unable to cross to them, or counter the attacks. Three birlinns full of men had sailed back to the south shore of Alsh, far enough down to avoid attack.

From high in the tower house, a call of tall ships coming rang out, as another volley from all sides followed. Shot sent shards of rock everywhere, wounding anyone within striking distance. Garreth ran from his cover and into the tower house. As fast as he could climb the steep stairs, he made it to the top floor and looked down the loch. There, as big as anything he had ever seen, was the Ville de Lyon coming out of Kyle Rhea and then two smaller ships following behind. His heart raced in desperation, knowing the guns aboard such a ship would pulverize the castle walls with little effort.

Closer they came, passing the island and wending their way slowly towards them. It was then that Garreth saw the flag flying from the centre mast. The Fleur de Lis waved slowly in the breeze and Garreth felt his heart leap. He had no idea why they were there, but he knew Fate played its hand close and gave nothing away until it wanted to. He saw a birlinn rowed fast towards the large vessel, then men climbing aboard. He would find out later that it was Grayson who had boarded the ship. The tower shook violently, as another multitude of shots pounded against the walls below him. Before he ran down, he watched as the birlinn reached shore and the two smaller ships began sailing down the coast. The large ship began turning its sails, pivoting on its anchored side, coming broadside to him. 

He sprinted for all his worth, descending to the ground and racing outside. Standing by the razed battlement wall, he and dozens of others watched, as rows of barrels were rolled out in preparation for firing. A moment later, smoke billowed angrily from the top row of the ship, blanketing it from view, followed by a tremendous roar. The masts and rigging of the Justice blew apart in splinters, falling on the decks and crushing anyone underneath. Captain Roberts looked at the French ship and knew his duty. Fight till the cannons stopped firing. The cannons able to fire were loaded and the order given. Shot pounded the walls of the tower and opened holes in previously hit areas. 

Before another order could be given, the second tier of guns roared and the Justice blew apart along her port side superstructure. Men were hurled into the water, already dead with splinters of wood imbedded deep in their bodies. Roberts pulled himself up bloodied and injured and shouted for the cannons to be loaded. As men began the task of reloading and clearing debris, the rearmed top row and bottom row of guns firing, signalled the end as they engulfed the ship in smoke, Twenty shots of thirty two pounds of iron, along with twenty incendiary canisters streaked across the expanse in seconds and blew the hull apart, while the remaining deck area was engulfed in flames. In ironic consequence, Roberts was hit full force by a canister, driving him onto the deck, before exploding and obliterating him completely, the way he liked to do to others, his ship destroyed by the same methods he used.

While the Ville de Lyon demolished the Justice, the two smaller ships had slowly made their way along the coast and began opening fire into the trees where Blair and his men, along with soldiers, were hiding. Shots exploded and burst into flames, driving the men from cover, some becoming running torches, their screams of agony unheeded. The Insurgent rounded the point first and opened fire with its guns on the cannon battery. The shots went over their heads and exploded behind them, creating an inferno out of the trees. The crew wheeled the cannon around to fire at it, unaware the Vengeance had rounded the point and was now lining up their guns on them. Before the cannon roared once more, the frigate's guns belched out smoke and shots bombarded the area, smashing the cannon's carriage to pieces and sending bodies and parts of them flying in all directions. 

The two ships sailed slowly down the loch and began turning to the opposite shore and sailing back up. The starboard cannons of the Insurgent were loaded with incendiary shot and awaited command to fire. MacRae and Rennie watched the carnage happen on the opposite shore and knew there was no hope in staving off an attack. Orders to seek shelter were given and men began dispersing from the scene in haste. The first ship opened fire and the battery placement was engulfed in flames, as powder was hit and exploded, sending lethal projectiles in all directions. The Vengeance's cannons were loaded with 'spice' shot and fired at the mass of men still trying to gain distance form the scene. Bodies were blown to pieces, as the shot erupted in their midst and shrapnel tore through their flesh. With both cannons and the Justice out of action, the ships sailed back to the Ville de Lyon and awaited further orders. 

Grayson and the men who had landed up from the west side cannon and Blair, now made their way in cautious haste towards the area where the men were hit, while the others on the far side, now sailed past the burning hulk of the Justice. As Sorely and Colla closed in on men still clinging to life, holding on to wreckage, they signed the Cross over themselves and ran their swords through them, laughing and smiling as they did it, while others shot arrows at ones further away. The others followed suit and by the time the last boat crossed to Donan's shores, nary a live man was in the water. The beaches of the atoll and peninsula would be stained with the blood for days after, the bodies littering the shores and left to rot and be eaten by animals.

Robert and the men stood in awe, watching the action unfold before them from on top of the beinn. By the time the last ship had fired, he had given the order to charge the army from behind and drive them into Garreth's men and the re-enforcements now north of the castle. Two hundred and fifty riders rode down the path the archers had taken and were soon racing across the flat land to the bridge they ambushed from. The dead animals made the men cheer, knowing they had succeeded well in delaying the attack and no sign of any of them dead made for greater joy. They raced along the coast, the way unhindered by attackers, watching the whole time, what MacRae did to guard his rear from attack. A small contingent of two hundred had broke off from the main formation and rode into the hills by Keppoch, so Robert knew to be aware of attack once he neared the area. 

Unknown to the contingent, Iain and his one hundred and forty men were up higher still on the ridge above them. Leaving their horses and travelling on foot, they quietly made their way down and watched them. It would be foolhardy to take them on, but Iain was prepared to lessen their forces when the time was right. Bows and arrows were readied, as they crept closer, coming within fifty feet behind them. 

Robert and his men were riding hard along the newly made road, eyes constantly looking up into the hills above them. They had rode past the spot he knew they went up, so an ambush was imminent at any time. The ambushers waited patiently, keeping their horses quiet and steady, as they heard the horses approaching. They had complete cover from trees on approach and a clear view of anyone after passing them. 

Iain watched them, seeing them getting tense, as the horses came by them. His men readied their arrows and waited for his order, as he waited for the leader to give his signal to charge. Iain saw the first horses pass them and recognized who it was. The leader had his hand raised to give the order and when the last horse past them, he dropped it quickly and they began to ride. Iain gave his order and as the first riders rode off, arrows began piercing the men in their back rows. Quickly re-arming, another volley was launched and twenty more soldiers fell from their mounts. 

Iain screamed a battle cry loudly, alerting the riders and the ambushers. Both halted in surprise and shortly, the ambush was over and a full on attack ensued. Robert and his men drew their blades and started for them, while Iain and his men ran up the hill to their horses and were soon riding down with all the surefooted abilities the ponies had. 

Blades began clashing and blood spilled, as the two forces met in combat, men from both sides met their fates at the hands and swords of strangers. As much as Robert and his men depleted the ranks of the ambushers, his men were dying in numbers as well.

In a pause between conflicts, Robert caught sight of the riders coming from the trees and was unsure if they meant victory, or defeat. Seeing their blades hack and stab the foe, his heart took a comfort at the sight and soon, more of the ambushers were felled and less of their own. As the odds continued to weigh against the ambushers, it wasn't long before men were begging for surrender and mercy, but receiving none, even after throwing down their weapons. Orders had been given not to take prisoners and the men were happy to comply with that order. Heads were quickly severed and bodies gored in multiple stab wounds, as the last one fell under the blades of vengeance.

The wounded were quickly tended to and the dead laid to the side under the shade of trees. The ambushers' bodies were dragged to the shore and tossed, pushed or rolled into the water, the men exacting their measure of justice served, for retaliation in the slaughter of the MacDonnell's and their resting place in the loch.

Robert tried not to count the losses, as he added his men and Iain's together to form a single mass and prepare for an attack. Memories flashed before his eyes, as he looked at the lifeless faces laying on the ground, dreading the thought of telling so many loved ones of their loss. With lives still at risk, he put their memories in the back of his mind, as he concentrated on the task at hand, ending the battle.

Stephen had ridden ahead to survey from above, if anymore troops lay in wait for them. From high on his vantage point, it was his good fortune to see the action start when the two frigates bombarded the shoreline and blew away the cannon placements. He observed closely, as he watched MacRae and his men disperse into the hills to avoid the canister shot being shot at them. It was hard not to smile happily at the thoughts, as he rode back to tell Iain and Robert the news. A mighty cheer went up amongst the men, after Stephen relayed the news, then plans were made in earnest haste to attack while their guard was down. They were nine hundred yards from them, but no other way to attack, than a full on charge from the coast, leaving them no means of retreat once they engaged. Stephen quickly added that he could ride the ridge to the other men stationed and have them attack their flanks. That would get them close to five hundred men and half on horseback. 

Another rider could make it to the far side of the castle and have the men protecting the north side and have them begin the attack from the front, once again surrounding them and driving them towards the loch. It would depend entirely on the timing of the others to make it to them in time. If they weren't prepared to battle when Robert engaged, it was nothing more than a suicide mission that would disrupt and delay the inevitable and needlessly ending their lives. 

"When ye've made it tae the top ridge, Stephen, we'll start tae march on them. That'll gi'e ye enough time tae tell them and make their way down tae us. God speed yer journey and spare ye safe." Iain told him, then clasped wrists and hugged solidly, before letting him go.

Mounting up, Stephen looked at Iain and Robert, then to most of the men, his look serious and grave, knowing their lives depended on him making it to the others and informing them. He turned his pony and urged it to ride as fast as it could up the steep hillside, rising higher and higher to the upper trail. Finding the start, he rode along it to the first area he knew the men were stationed, his heart racing with the adrenalin, as he rode as fast as he could, his eyes scouting the trees for danger. He caught the movement the moment it happened, but too late to do anything in defence, so he tucked down close to his horse and kept riding as fast as he could, as two enemy archers took aim at him. He put his head behind the horse's neck to protect it, but his body became more exposed. The first arrow pierced his chest, while the second drove through his calf and into the horse's belly. 

The animal stumbled and faltered, as it re-acted to the wound. Stephen was tossed to the ground and felt the agony of the arrow do more damage to him internally, as his horse responded to the arrow being removed and ran away in fright, blood pouring from the open wound. He waited for his attackers to come and finish him off, as he clasped his hands to his wounds. Blood trickled from his mouth as he coughed and he knew he was finished in little time to come. He heard the footsteps approaching him and faintly heard them talking about how good the one man's shot was. He figured it was the one who hit his chest and wished before he died, he could inflict as much pain on him. 

Their footsteps stopped suddenly and then two thuds were heard close behind him. Stephen tried to turn and see what happened, but the pain denied him. In a moment, a man knelt beside him and gently laid a hand on him. He looked up and saw a familiar face, but no name to put to it. He grasped at his arm tightly and gurgled out he wanted to see Athol. The man yelled out for him and shortly, Athol was running towards them. Athol saw the clothing and knew immediately it was Stephen, He looked him over and judged his wounds to be fatal, seeing the blood pour from his mouth and where the arrow was lodged in his lung. Stephen looked into Athol's eyes desperately and pulled him close.

"Robert, Iain, attacking from behind," he paused and spat out blood to let him draw a breath, "attack now wi' men and get tae the others, attack," more blood poured from his mouth, making it harder to speak or breathe. "now, Athol..." was all he could get out, as he began drowning in his blood. Athol held him closely, his tears beginning, as he watched his best friend slowly die in his arms.

Athol laid him down gently, then rose and yelled to his men to assemble. His voice broke with emotion, his tears flowing, as he told them what Stephen had told him. Quickly men on foot made their way down towards MacRae's army, as a rider mounted and rode hard towards the north placement of men. Athol mounted up and sadly looked down at his slain friend, then he and his riders made for the path that led down to where a lower pass would put them above the scene and a place to attack from.

From the watchtower, several men observed the movement of the men up in the hills, unsure of why they had broke their positions without order. Garreth was quickly summoned and informed of the change. He heard how they were moving at great speed and knew something of great consequence was happening. Quickly lookouts were alerted and searched for signs of enemy movement or attack. With nothing visible, Garreth surmised an attack must be underway and made ready in the castle for an assault. When word came that the newly arrived clans and their own north placement were in motion, Garreth had riders go out and find out what was happening. 

Nerve-wracking minutes passed, before the riders came back and told him of Robert mounting an assault from the rear with only two hundred and sixty men, Athol's men were coming down on their right flanks and the five hundred stationed to the north were now making way for a head on assault. Garreth began screaming out for the men to assemble, relegating others to round up every man not guarding key points. Crucial minutes passed before fifty riders and one hundred and ten men on foot, were listening to Garreth explain the attack and what they must do. The debris in front of the battered gate was cleared and shortly after, the echo of hooves and feet making their way across the bridge, was heard echoing back from the hills. 

Garreth and five others rode hard to get to the men already attacking, their lives now in danger from the pits they unknowingly charged towards. Garreth made it in front of the men and steered them into the hills, before halting them. Sorley rode over to him, puzzled as to why he stopped them. 

"Sorley, ye nearly ran intae the pits. There's o'er twenty dug in that open area ye were headed fer." Garreth panted out, as he pointed to the area. "They're bedded wi' spikes in the bottom."

Sorley looked at him and then to the area, breathing a sigh at realizing how close to death he had come. 

"We'll head up tae the first ridge up there. Sorley, but what's happened?" Garreth asked, still not knowing why the charge was on.

"Word has come that men attack from the rear and down from they hills. If we don't make it in time, those men will be outnumbered and be slaughtered." Sorley told him.

Garreth felt a rage grow, his plans being usurped and now an unknown coming into play to contend with. "How soon is the attack?"

"Now. The rider came and told us tae make our way around that bend and meet MacRae head on." 

Garreth tried to quickly formulate a plan of attack, knowing what was happening, what was going to happen and what he wanted to happen. He needed the men to drive MacRae forward to the pits and not wage hand to hand combat in less than ideal surroundings.

"Follow me. We need tae get higher up and force MacRae intae those pits. Peadair, go back and ha'e the archers readied tae light the bridge and God willing, we can drive them intae our next trap, if they make it past this one." Garreth told his brother, then rode off in haste and led the men into the hills and the higher ridge line.

MacRae had recovered from the attack and recalled his men to positions. With all the artillery gone, he knew there was only one decision left to make. He mounted up and led the army of nine hundred towards the gates of Donan. There was only eight hundred yards to cover to get to the bridge and he was determined he was crossing it this time. Rennie had his one hundred heavy cavalry lead the charge, while he and MacRae rode with the two hundred light cavalry behind them. The six hundred foot soldiers ran slowly after them, saving their strength for the confrontation. With every stride, MacRae neared Donan and felt his prize was in hand at last. With every stride, certain death lay in wait for the unsuspecting, ready to end whatever plans they might have..

Across Loch Duich, smoke rose from the burning remains of MacRae's birlinns, as well as the cannon placement. Blair and the others fled into the hills after the attack and saw Grayson and at least two hundred more men racing into the hills in their direction. Blair, along with his men and the remaining soldiers, made their way up to the ridge and began racing as fast as they could for the head of Duich. There wasn't enough knowledge of the land to know where to hide or make a defence, just the sight of his father and the army across the loch now massing, being the only place that held safety. With complaints of rest needed, he looked back and saw the first of the pursuers coming to the top of the ridge close to a mile back. Stopping, he quickly caught his breath between sentences, as he spoke to them.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 47



"Look back there. That's death approaching and coming fast. We ha'e no where tae hide or go, except o'er there. My father is making fer the castle now and there's no where safe fer us here. So ye either run and make it around the loch, or ye'll die quickly taking a stand against them. Make yer choice, but I'm not waiting any longer." to which he turned and began running again.

The complaining stopped and out of breath or not, men began running, some shedding armour and unnecessary weight. Fifteen miles of running along rugged landscape lay before them and death was making the same journey less than a mile behind. Grayson and the others had started out prepared for hand to hand battle and shed excess weight, giving them an edge to gain ground. The rage in their voices told of their determination to exact revenge and justice at the swing of their blades, most already thickly coated with the blood of those already vanquished.

Blair wasn't sure, but before he turned to run, he could have swore he saw Iain MacLean running beside Grayson MacDonald. Lachlan MacRae ran beside his brother and pulled at his cloak to get his attention. Lachlan pointed discreetly at the battered birlinn on the coast, so others weren't aware of where he was looking. Even with the bow blown away, at least ten men could board it and row to the other side. Blair understood his brother's plan and looked about him to see who should go. He motioned for several to come to him as they ran, letting them know of the plan. They quickly went about to the others who were chosen and shortly after, Blair and ten men peeled away and were running down the hillside. Others began following, but were told to keep going on the ridge. With no idea of the plan, they followed orders and ran with the others, now nearing exhaustion and slowing. 

Blair and his men pushed the battered boat into the water and made for the stern, setting oars into the water and rowing away from shore. The others finally saw what they had planned without them and felt the abandonment set in. Ones who were in bad physical shape, started to fall from exhaustion and gasped for breath. Unable to go on, they stood and faced the points of the approaching swords and held what ground they could, before falling to them. Their deaths did little to slow the progress of the men, as they continued to gain on the others, unwavering in their oath to rid the land of all of them.

Grayson and Iain halted and watched, as Blair and his men slowly made their way across to safety, knowing their chance to get him had passed. Without further thought, he turned and gathered close to fifty men to him, while the rest were to continue hunting down the remainder of MacRae's men and the English with them.

Grayson and the men made their way back the two miles to the coast and set out in a birlinn. Raising sail and setting to on the oars, they were making good speed for the far coast. No matter what was happening at Donan, Grayson wanted to make every effort to stop Blair MacRae from reaching the coast and his father. Rounding the point, he could see Blair was rowing towards his father, who was more than three hundred yards away. Grayson estimated his distance to him to be more than a thousand, but good winds were behind him and strong arms continued to close the gap.

Back on the other side of the loch, the remaining men continued to run for their lives. Those who faltered were quickly overcome and felled by the faster followers, Those trailing behind, finished them off, hacking limbs off, beheading them, or simply running three feet of blade through them and ripping it back out. By half way down one side of Duich, only forty or so of the original sixty were left to hunt down. With panic and desperation setting in, some split off on their own and tried to make a break up steep rock faces. The sgurrs became nearly impossible to scale, their faces holding little for them to grasp on to, or use as a foothold. As they became stranded. some of the MacDonald's and their followers welcomed the rest and began using the hapless men as target practice. One by one they fell, their bodies bouncing raggedly off the face, until they were crushed on the rocks below. 

Once all eight of the men were taken down, they laughed as they began to get back to the deed of ridding their land of the unwanted ones. It wasn't hard to pick up the trail, as body after body was left writhing in agony along the way. The men dispatched them quickly with swift hands of death, their blades drenched and dripping a trail of their vengeance behind them.

The twenty six men left, had stripped their heavy kilts away, ridding them of the extra weight. For all their physical strength of adrenalin fuelled flight, they had only managed a small lead over their pursuers. Slowing just above where Glendon and his men had hid, they gingerly came through the bushes, the branches tearing and shredding their tunics and saw the bodies of their men who had gone out in pursuit and didn't return, flies swarming their flesh. The sight became a vivid reminder that they would be lying dead like them, if they didn't continue to run. With only a few handfuls of chilled water from the stream to slake their thirst, they set off as fast as tired legs would run, each man praying God would give him the strength to continue.

Now running along the coast, the clansmen had no trouble seeing them and knew it was only a matter of time, before they would be running their blades through them. The ones in the lead began to laugh and shout, as they noticed many of the ones in front were naked, only a sword and a targe to their possession.

The end of the loch was reached and the men ran as fast as legs could go, knowing safety lay at the other end in the dense woods. They ran past Sheil Bridge and over the river, hoping to lose them in the woods on the other side. Curious eyes watched the event happening, finding great amusement watching it unfold. They didn't recognize the naked men coming towards them, but the tartans on the men following them let them know it was the enemy they were chasing down. 

As the men made it to the edge of the woods, the sound of bush and branches being broken filled the air as they scrambled into it, hoping to disappear from their pursuers and find safety. Climbing higher and higher, they felt sure they had a chance at losing the clansmen. Fifty feet up, they heard the sound of a branch being broken directly in front of them and stopped, looking ahead to see what it was. There in their path, were thirty armed men, ten with arrows drawn, aimed directly at their naked bodies.

"And where are ye lot off tae?" Glendon asked them, almost friendly in tone. "Drop yer blades, NOW!" he roared, in complete difference.

At first the men stood frozen, unsure if they should comply or fight.

"Jacob" was all Glendon called out and shortly after, an arrow was tumbling the lead man back down the hill, an arrow piercing his eye socket.

The rest quickly tossed their blades to the ground and awaited their fates, as they were herded back down the hill at sword point. Their pursuers finally caught up and were surprised to see them led out by Glendon and his men.

"Is this who yer looking fer?" Glendon said to them, knowing full well they were, but making light of it.

"Aye, Glendon. We were out fer a run and ga'e them a head start. We were just thinking it was going tae be hard catching up, when they ran intae the woods. Many thanks fer making it easier fer us, nephew." Gleason MacDonald said, coming through the men to him as he spoke. 

The two hugged happily and then turned to their captives.

"What do ye want tae do wi' them, uncle?" Glendon asked, poking his sword at the closest man, the tip threatening to pierce his flesh.

"Laird Grayson has gi'en orders that no man is tae be spared. The men swore an oath tae him that it would be so. If ye come back wi' us, ye'll see a trail of them. The animals will ha'e a good feast this night, so they will. God love them, that they can stomach their vileness, but it's a good feast all the same, don't ye think?" Gleason jested.

"Aye, God's creatures are a blessing. Well I guess we should feed some wi' this lot, don't ye think?" Glendon joked, his sword still keeping the seriousness of the moment in check.

"Our orders are tae kill this lot and we're not finished till we do, so it's time fer a wee bit of sport. There's enough men fer some contests fer us all, so let's ha'e a bit of fun, before we go back tae battle. Tie six of these filth tae the trees o'er there and pick three of yer best archers and I'll pick three of mine." Gleason told him. 

Six naked men were dragged to the trees, begging to be spared, while the others were made to lie on the cold, damp ground. Gleason walked to the trees and measured out fifty paces and laid his sword down to mark the line. The men were tied by any bindings available, their hands bound behind the trees, tears streaking down their pleading faces.

Gleason brought his three best archers forward and lined them up with the targeted men. Glendon brought his three and did the same. 

"What's the test, uncle?" Glendon asked, interested to know what his uncle's mind had conceived for their fates. 

"The men ha'e tae take the pride off their man in the fewest shots. We'll add arras at the end tae determine the winner." 

The bound men had no idea what was in store for them and stood on shaking knees, some urinating in fear of what was to come. Their nervous reaction brought jeers and derision from their captors, only adding to their humility. 

"I'll gi'e the order tae fire and ye's all keep shooting till ye've pinned it tae the tree." then Gleason readied the archers, "Are ye's ready? Take aim." and wails of mercy rang out at those words, "Let them loose." Gleason shouted out and arrows streaked to their intended marks. 

Screams of agony rose, as the arrows pierced their flesh. Only Jacob Pollock's arrow found its mark, severing it from its owner. The appendage was driven into the trunk deeply and cheers rose from Glendon's men, as blood poured from the severed veins. Hazing was given in good nature to one of Gleason's men for not even hitting his man anywhere. 

"Aye, but look at the size of my target. It's no fair. He's no any bigger than a wee boy." Slocum said in his defence, pointing at it to prove it was so, getting laughter from every man. 

The four other men were screaming or groaning in agony, as arrows had found their flesh close to it's intended mark. Bellies and legs let out brilliant red streaks to confirm the position of entry. Once again the archers took aim and released their flights, this time every arrow finding purchase in a body and two more men relieved of their manhood. Brice MacIntaggert stood boastfully at his accomplishment, as his son, Robbie cheered him along with the others. Gleason's man, Lomax, received and good number of pats on the back and cheering, as he stood back from the line with the other two.

The remaining twenty captives lay in deathly fear of what awaited them. Without realizing it, every one of them was covering their pride in consequence of what they saw.

     *************************

"Wait, wait. Argus really." Gillian said in protest, her concerns of her son hearing about such horrid things.

"It's what happened, honestly. Am I making this up Stuart? Tav?" Argus replied, looking at his cohorts.

Aye, it did happen, but yer getting a wee bit graphic again, so ye may want tae tone it down a wee bit. I can see why Gillian is getting concerned." Stuart told him,

"Och, try tae tell a good story and everyone gets their knickers knotted up o'er a wee bit of blood letting. Is it bothering ye tae hear such things, Sean?" Argus responded, looking at Sean.

"No way, Mr. Stewart. This is awesome. I can't wait to get on line tonight and tell my buddies all this cool shi... stuff." he corrected quickly and smiled, looking at his mother's disapproving face and then his aunt's.

"Aye, it is cool shite, isn't it?" Argus said laughing.

"Argus, stop that." Gillian scolded him.

"Och, sorry. It's just a word everyone uses everyday and don't tell me ye don't. It's not like he doesn't know it, now is it?" Argus defended himself.

"Aye, I think we should take a wee break and freshen ourselves. Ha'e a bit of a stretch and we'll let Argus continue when we come back. If ye ladies are finding this a bit too gruesome, then ye'll no want tae hear what happens tae the rest, it's worse than what's happened already." Stuart quickly took over the conversation and diffused a potential battle, as well as gave the women a chance to avoid hearing the morbid tales Argus was clearly enjoying to embellish. 

"I think it's a good time to go back to the beautiful gardens and have some more of that wonderful girl talk we were having earlier. I enjoyed that much more than I am of this. Sorry Argus, but it's not my cup of tea. Ladies, care to join me for a stroll?" Gillian asked the other three.

"To each their own, hen. No tae worry, the men are'ne put off by the happenings, so it'll gi'e us a chance tae really get intae it then."he stated, making Sean smile a little wider.

The women all gave their respective others a quick kiss and departed to the gardens. 

"Well, looks like yer free tae get as graphic as ye like then, Argus. If everyone is ready, I guess ye can continue from where ye left off." Stuart said with a distinct tone of reluctance.

Argus smiled happily and thought for a moment where he had stopped when Gillian interrupted him.

"Aye, we were just coming tae the end of target shooting. So there were only three men left and they had been hit several times each. The last three archers prepared their bows and took aim..."

Tom, David, Mark and Sean sat transfixed at Argus' words, while Stuart and Tavish sat back and watched them, knowing what was about to happen. Tavish looked at Stuart, who lowered his eyes slightly and shook his head, as he heard of what happened and felt the same way at hearing it.



Blood of the Clans Ch. 48



The arrows left their bow strings, the whistling only lasting a second or two, before more screams echoed off the hills around them. Two more men stood without their manhood, while the third was pierced in his abdomen. The two men stood back and watched, as Glendon's last archer, Callum McInnis took aim once more. All the men watched in suspense, Callum's shot deciding a winner or not.

The arrow streaked the distance in a blur and missed its mark, hitting the man on his left thigh. Gleason's men cheered happily, knowing it came down to a tie at best now. Callum drew back on his bow and took aim again before his fingers released the missile. The man screamed in excruciating agony, as his pride was hit and embedded into the tree trunk.

Blood streamed from the wounded men, their cries of pain ignored without response, as they slowly bled out. Gleason stood in front of the clansmen and declared a tie was had. Everyone cheered, except Callum. 

"If it's a tie, then whoe'er made the first hit should decide it." he opined.

"Aye, I agree, Callum. In that stead, Jacob was first, so we won." Glendon concurred, then turned to Callum and asked him a question that gnawed at him. "Why did ye use so many arras, Callum? Yer a finer bowman that that."

"Och, I could'ne help wanting tae inflict a bit more pain first. It was they bastards that came tae Ballachulish and killed everyone. All my kin and friends as well, were slaughtered, so what I ga'e him was a bit of retribution fer what he did." he stated forthrightly. 

Glendon couldn't deny Callum's reasoning and patted his shoulder in acknowledgement. 

"Aye, we'll let ye ha'e that one then, Glendon. Let's see how well ye do on the next one then. Killian, bring yer axe." Gleason called out.

A large, burly man of six foot two stepped from the crowd of men and stood by Gleason, his long handled axe slung over his shoulders. 

Glendon shouted out for Gillie to come down from the wounded, where he stood guard over them. The crunching of branches and bush told them a man of great proportions was coming. In moments the bushes shook and a man of greater size appeared holding a large battle axe. He made his way to Glendon and awaited an order. The size of the blade had only one purpose, death.

"String up two in the trees, head tae the ground, if ye would." Gleason said to the men guarding the game pieces the prisoners had become.

Two were dragged screaming in terror to the trees and hung spreadeagled upside down. 

"Yer tae use one blow and cleave yer man in half. We'll make it best two out of three." 

Gleason's words raising the sounds of terror from all the captives. They watched, the shock of seeing the others' prides used for targets, still leaving its impression in their minds.

Gillie turned to Killian and shook his wrist and wished him good strength in his blow. Killian smiled back and wished him the same, as they approached the suspended men. 

"One blow men, no more. He must be cleaved in two, to win. Are ye's ready?" Gleason asked, as the others watched in anticipation, the captives in dread.

Both men squared off to their targets and laid the edges on the juncture of their blows. The two men screamed in unheard pleas not to do it, as the axes were raised. When Gleason saw they had reached as far back as they could, he gave the order. "Swing away." 

The whistling of air being sliced ended, as the axes made contact and began quickly severing the two men, instantly quieting their screams, but not those of the others.

Gillie's larger blade made a truer path of where he aimed and in a moment, two halves of the man swung apart, as his entrails gushed out and fell about the ground. Killian's smaller blade ran afoul and curved into the man's spine, lodging in a disc, his target lasting only a few more seconds in agony. Cheers rang out from Glendon's men, while disheartened silence was held by Gleason's men. 

"Ye need a bigger blade like mine, Killian. That one is too wee tae do the job. Only good fer hacking off an arm or leg."Gillie told him, smiling at him through his thick, scraggly beard. 

Killian turned to his men and asked for a bigger bladed axe. None had one, so Gillie shouted to his younger brother to come forward. Wee Abe, not much smaller than Gillie, came through and handed his axe to Killian. It was almost the same as Gillie's and Killian swung it a few times to get the feel for it. He judged its weight to be over a stone, as he hefted it in his hand.

"It'll do the job, it has before." Abe told him, winking with a smile, as he went back with the other men to watch. 

"That's one tae Gillie and none fer Killian. String two more up, same size if ye can, try tae make this fair fer both." Gleason laughed out, 

Two more men were cut from the remaining men and dragged to the trees screaming, not a face showing any sign of mercy, or remorse to them. Once bound, the two large men approached and readied themselves.

"Ready? Swing away." Gleason shouted and both men showed the brute force of their musculature, as they brought the axes to their marks. 

This time both axes ran true courses through the bodies, but Gillie's jammed into his man's shoulder bone and stopped, while Killian's blade lodged in the ground, after severing his man cleanly in two. The ground became heaped with viscera, as their entrails fell upon the others.

Cheers rang out from both sides this time, Killian looked at Wee Abe and held the axe up, winking at him with a broad smile, blood still dripping from the edge.

"That's one a piece, so we need a tie breaker. Bring two more." Gleason asked his men, his tone showing an enjoyment in carrying out the deaths of twenty six men.

Glendon had never seen this side of his uncle before and wondered how he knew of these things. In as much as they were carrying out the Commander's orders, he knew what they were doing was still a vile act to commit on a man and Grayson would not approve it. It was becoming harder for him to draw the line between decency and brutality, as he watched the next two men become suspended, to decide the winner. 

The screams from the two were drowned out by the shouts from the men on both sides, cheering their man on to do his best and win for their side. He looked at his men, then up to where his brother was being treated by Malachi, thinking of all that had been done. The men were to die anyway, by the blades being used on them now, so what true difference was held by the means they were sentenced to death. As he pondered the moralities of it, Gillie and Killian took their places and readied their axes. As the heads of the men dangled only a foot from the entrails below, they watched their executioners stand before them, ready to add theirs to it. Hearing Gleason give the order, they waited through the last two seconds of their lives in hopelessness, before the cracking of their bones ended their misery. 

Gillie cleanly severed his man in two, his axe imbedded in the ground, Killian's axe doing the same. Killian's man clung together by the scantest of tissue and ligament, denying him the win. Walking up, he shook the branch and the tissue tore apart, the halves pulled to the sides, as the organs spilled to the ground. His men still cheered him for his efforts, as Gillie was congratulated heartily by his men for winning. Abe came up and Killian handed him his axe back, thanking him for the use of it.

"Aye, it's a good blade Abe, tae bad that bastard had tae ruin it fer me. I've a good mind tae chop his bloody head off fer it." he laughed out, then went to congratulate Gillie.

"Yer a good man tae ha'e in battle beside ye. I'd hate tae be against ye, so i would." he said laughing, but the truth clearly showed he was. 

The two shook wrists and Gillie returned to his post up in the hill. Killian turned to Abe and asked what his brother's name was short for.

"Gillebruide, means brutal boy. Da, named him that after he nearly killed our ma gi'en birth tae him. Took three years tae convince her tae ha'e me. I was much smaller, so he called me Wee Abe, but I'm no wee anymore, but the name has stuck wi' me."he acknowledged.

"Only three years? That did'ne take long." Killian said laughing.

"Aye, Da poked her twice after me, so I must'ae made things easy fer him, but he got two daughters instead of sons. Tae look at them,ye'd no think we're kin. They're small, wee things compared tae Gillie and me." Abe told him, his hands showing the size difference.

"Aye, that's a good thing though, Abe. I don't think tae many men fancy a woman who can best them in a fight." Killian shot back.

"Any man wants tae be wi' our sisters, better know Gillie and me protect them from harm. God help the man who hurts them." Abe said with more seriousness.

Killian saw the look and knew it would mean a slow painful death if a man dishonoured them in any way. He shook Abe's wrist and wished him God's grace to spare him and his brother in battle. Abe wished Killian the same, then Gleason's voice rang out above the din of talking.

"The next test is fer the men who think they can wield a sword fast and true. Ye better hope ye sharpened it well fer this one. Three of yer best swordsmen, Glendon." 

The men looked at him with anticipation, unnerving him that they were eager to be chosen. He chose Kenneth, Brice and Colson, he knew to be the best of his men with a sword. His men came forward with their swords, practising cutting blows in preparation, the sharp steel slicing the air in whirring spins. 

Gleason's men came forward as well, practising much the same to ready themselves. 

"We'll go two at a time. One of mine against one of yer's, Glendon. This will no be as easy as ye's think. A man will be tied spreadeagled between two trees by his arms and legs and his head from above him. Each time ye cut a part off, he'll move, so ye ha'e tae sure of yer strike. Arms and legs first, then the head last and he'll be moving well by then. Five strikes is the best ye can get, so make each one count well. If ye both succeed, the winner is the first tae finish. The first two step forward, if ye's would. Glendon, ye come count my man's strikes and I'll count yer's tae be fair." Gleason instructed them, winking at Glendon with a smile.

Glendon was unsure of where he found the ability to smile back at him, but his uncle threw an arm over his shoulder and led him to his station, making it seem more like when he was a boy going out with him fishing, instead of watching a man be dismembered.

Two more victims were chosen and dragged to the trees. Despite their struggling, both were tied as requested, a noose securely around both necks.

Gleason had the men start a few paces back, giving them room to swing the three and a half feet of blade they wielded. Colson turned to his opponent, Neil and nodded to him. Neil nodded back and they touched the tip of their swords in salute. They studied their objectives with unemotional detachment, figuring the order of moves to make, the faces of the men pleading in tears and pitiful wails unnoticed.

"Ready? Away!" Gleason shouted and both men sprang forward.

Both men started with the left arm and then swung around to the right one, severing both cleanly. The nooses tightened and held the men steady, choking off their screams, as they heard their strikes counted out. Both men went for the left leg and then the right, Colson trailing slightly behind. Once the last appendage was cleaved off, the torso bobbed up and down from the noose, making their final swing more difficult.

Neil swung first and missed the neck, the tip of his sword gouging a deep gash across his target's chest. Colson waited a moment longer and swung hard, as his bobbing torso came towards him. The body dropped to the ground and the head was flung by the noose into the woods, as Colson's sword sliced through the neck, sending a sweeping arc of blood off the tip. Neil waited, as the body came to him and easily swung his sword, lopping off the albeit dead man's head.

"Six fer Neil." Glendon shouted out.

"Five fer Colson." Gleason followed with, a slight desperation in his tone. "Two more." he called out.

A pair of men were dragged, no longer screaming pleas of mercy, knowing they fell on deaf ears. The severed limbs were removed and the two were soon readied for contest, One man succumbed to his nervous state knowing his fate and released himself, his urinating bringing derisive laughter from the men. 

"Step up, Duncan, ye tae, Brice. Make yerselves ready." Gleason said, motioning them forward.

Glendon turned to look up the loch, his dread that clansman's deaths were occurring, as they took sport in ridding themselves of these men. He turned back and watched, as the two men squared off in front of their subjects and awaited the command to start. 

Gleason dropped his arm and shouted for them to swing, hoping Duncan could get them a tie this time. Both men started with the left arms, but Duncan kept the momentum of his swing going, while Brice brought his sword back up and chopped again. Duncan was able to gain speed with his style, over Brice and was shortly severing the second leg, while Brice just cleaved through the first. In his eagerness to catch up, he tried speeding up his swing, but didn't make it through the leg entirely. The horrific screaming was unheard above the screaming cheers of the men, the din echoing down Glen Sheil and along the loch.

Before Brice could bring his sword up after completely severing the leg, Duncan was slicing the air, after his subject's head tumbled off and bounced on the ground. He held his sword high and cheered his success, as Brice lopped off his man's head in completion, showing his regrets at losing in his part. 

"Six fer Brice." Gleason happily called out.

"Five fer Duncan." Glendon said unemotionally, his thoughts weighing on his words.

"That gi'es us another tie tae break. Two more tae come then." Gleason called out and then turned to his nephew. "What bother's ye, Glendon?"

"Making sport of killing men, Uncle. It's not right in God's eyes. They should be gi'en an honourable death at least." Glendon told him, expressing his fears of retribution from above.

"No right in God's eyes? Do ye know how all this started?" he asked his nephew.

"No, I just know God would'ne look kindly on these acts." Glendon defended his beliefs.

"Callum, here." Gleason shouted out.

Callum McInnis made his way through the men to Gleason, who then asked him to relate what he knew of the raid on Ballachulish to Glendon. By the time he finished his story of when he left and ran away into the darkness and what had happened since, Glendon began looking at the men suspended, in a different manner. Knowing the depravity of what they had done that night and to other women since, his heart felt more at ease with the acts being carried out.

"Then justice is being served. Let them die as ye please, Uncle, they deserve what they get." Glendon replied, his hatred beginning to show in his eyes and face.

"I'm no as vile a man as that, tae do things like this tae men just fer pleasure, son. Callum recognized many of these men from that night and told me who they were. It was'ne hard tae make them pay in kind fer their acts. I want tae send these bastards tae hell wi' as much suffering as they caused others. Ye'd do the same if ye were me, so ye would, I know it. Ye've always been a just man, e'en since yer were wee. Ye pounded the shite out of Magnus McPherson fer hurting yer dog in fun, do ye remember? Yer Da, God rest him, had tae pull ye off him, or ye'd ha'e killed him. He did let ye gi'e him a good walloping first though, just tae make sure he understood no tae do anything like that again tae ye or anyone else." Gleason pulled the memory from him and watched him smile in remembrance. "Look o'er there, between those men. Do ye no recognize that man? That's Magnus. He's still afraid tae look ye in the face."

"That's Magnus? Och, tell him tae come o'er, that there's no bad blood between us." Glendon told his uncle, 

"Later, we need tae attend tae things already at hand first." his words reminding him of what was taking place.

"Aye, yer right. Let's see to it and end this. We're at a tie, are we not?"he queried Gleason, his tone alluding to a sense of enjoyment in it.

"Aye, so we are. Let's see who's man comes out the winner." Gleason said, poking Glendon in the chest and returning to his position to count.

Glendon called Kenneth to him and whispered to him, before he took his place. Two more men were suspended and waiting, prayers hurriedly spoken out, as they awaited their fate. Harold took his place and looked at Kenneth, giving him a nod, to which Kenneth smiled and nodded back. Kenneth nodded to Glendon and began spinning his sword in a forward circular motion, the tip making a loud whirring sound. Gleason saw both men were ready and shouted for them to begin, as he dropped his arm. Harold followed the same pattern of cutting as most of the others and was quickly severing the second arm of his man. He judged himself to be ahead of Kenneth and stole a glance at him to see where he was. The spinning blur of Kenneth's body made him falter as he looked closer at him. 

Kenneth spun wildly, his sword cleanly slicing through flesh and bone on each rotation. Harold quickly brought his blade back into motion and chopped hard through his man's right leg and then whirled it fast into a cross-hand cut, but it wasn't fast enough. Before his sword had made it into his man's flesh, Kenneth had spun twice more and landed on his feet in a crouch. Kenneth jumped high into the air, spinning as he went, his blade gaining speed and momentum as it came around. His blade took his man's head off and he landed in time, to thrust his sword forward and pierce the torso through the heart before it hit the ground. Harold dispatched his man to finish, but knew there was no win for him.

Glendon's men cheered wildly at seeing Kenneth's performance and breaking the tie in their favour again.

Gleason stood in amazement and then came to Kenneth, his awe-struck look one that many held.

"Where'd ye learn tae use a sword like that, man?" he asked, 

"From yer nephew. He taught me how tae swing like that. Gi'es a wee bit more speed and striking power tae yer swing and makes it harder fer yer opponent tae hit ye, because yer no standing there gi'ing him something tae hit." Kenneth told him proudly.

"Ye taught him that, Glendon? Where did ye learn such moves?" Gleason asked, puzzled to the source of his training.

"Gordon taught me. We practised all the time and he came up wi' the idea tae move like that. Works quite well, doesn't it?" he happily told him, then his smile slowly faded from his face as he remembered.

"Gordon? Yer brother has gotten that good, has he? Is he wi' the others, I hav'ne seen him.?" Gleason asked.

"Uncle, Gordon's been injured. He's alive, but he's in a bad state. He took a blast from the cannon when the birlinn was blown up and his face and hands are scorched black. Griffin, from the clan McGuire is wi' him tending tae his burns and the injuries of the other men. They're up in the hill in safety, but it'll be God's grace that some will live. I pray wi' all my soul, that he sees fit tae spare my brother." Glendon told him sadly.

"String up two more. I ha'e something fer ye's once I get back from seeing Gordon." he shouted to the men. Then turning to Glendon again, "Take me tae him, son."

The pair climbed up into the bush and scaled the steep slope to where the injured were lying in the shade. Gleason knew who his nephew was instantly, by the strips of kelp laid over his face. He went and knelt at his side and softly called his name out.

"Gordon, it's Gleason, yer uncle. Can ye hear me, son?"




Blood of the Clans Ch. 48



Gordon recognized the voice and reached up blindly with his hand. Gleason saw the charred flesh clinging to his hand and let him hold onto his hand however he wanted.

"Ye'll get better, Gordon. Griffin is taking good care of ye, I see." he told him softly, then looked at Griffin.

Griffin shook his head to him, letting him know he didn't expect him to survive his injuries. Gleason looked back at Gordon and heard the ragged breathing coming from under the kelp strips, and looked at the charred flesh on his hands, knowing Gordon's face must be in the same state, or worse.

"God rest ye, son. I'll pray tae him tae make ye well again, so I will, I swear. Know in yer heart, that those bastards who did this tae ye, are dying wi' great suffering tae their souls and will spend eternity in hell." Gleason told him in strong, but soft words, his grip on Gordon's arm, assuring him it was so.

"Uncle, if the Great Father takes me, see that my boy is raised well. He's all that I ha'e in this world and all that I live fer." Gordon's voice rasped out in shredded words.

"It shall be so, Gordon, ye ha'e my word." Gleason assured him, not realizing his son, Daniel, had been killed already.

Gleason saw that assurance ease the state Gordon was in and patted his chest.

"I must away tae the men again, Gordon. Once the fighting is o'er. I'll be back tae see ye and hope God has granted ye an ease in yer pain." 

Gordon laid his hand over Gleason's and held it tight to him, letting him know he felt peace in his words. Gleason let a moment pass between them, before he rose and looked at Griffin.

"Do yer best fer him, Griffin, see that he does'ne suffer the best ye can."

"Aye, I'll do what I can and hope God's hand is wi' me as well." Griffin replied, his face showing Gleason there was little else he could do.

Gleason walked back to Glendon and made their way back down.

"Gordon has asked that I take care of Daniel, if he does'ne make it through this." Gleason told Glendon, then saw his nephew halt at his words and look at him.

"Daniel's dead. He was killed trying tae escape, after ambushing the soldiers bringing the cannon up across from Donan. I could'ne tell Gordon, it would ha'e killed him fer sure, if he knew." he told his uncle sadly.

"He's dead? God save his soul. Yer right, Gordon can'ne know about it." Gleason agreed.

They made their way into the clearing again and walked to where the men were gathered,

"It's time tae see who can wield their dirk the best. Winner is the first tae be holding the heart in his hand. Fer this one, I challenge my nephew, Glendon in the best two out of three." Glendon shouted out, but didn't see Glendon halt at his words.

"I can'ne do that, Uncle. As much as I despise those men, it's no in my heart tae kill a man like that. I'm no against another man taking my stead, though. Archie MacLachlan, will ye do me the honour of taking my place?" Glendon asked him loudly, for everyone to hear, 

"Aye Glendon. It'd be my honour tae stand in yer stead." Archie shouted out, as he walked over.

"My thanks tae ye, my friend." he said to him in relief, then whispered to him, as they walked towards Gleason. "My uncle is good wi' his blade, but I know yer better. Don't let him know how good ye are, till the second man. Use the wrong grip or something tae slow ye down on the first."

Archie laughed and nodded, as they approached Gleason, now showing his ability with his dirk. The blade spun around his fingers and then he twirled it into the air, before catching the handle squarely once again. 

"Are ye ready, Archie?" Gleason asked him, seeing him holding his dirk in his hand.

"Aye, we're away then." he replied.

The two men approached the splayed victims tied to the trees and Archie winked at Glendon as he walked up to his man, going along with the plan. Gleason readied himself and they both looked to Glendon to start them. Glendon looked at the two victims with a despising glare, before he raised his hand and dropped it, shouting go as he did.

Gleason's blade was in the man's chest and carving a hole, while Archie used a sloppy method of hacks. It gave rise to Glendon's feelings once more, as he watched the two men die in agony and realized he felt nothing in their suffering.

Gleason had the man's heart out in his hand in a count of fifteen, while Archie troubled himself trying to pull the heart out and cut the arteries and veins attaching it.

Cheers rose from Gleason's men, a sure victory in the offering for them in this contest.

"How did ye do that so fast, Gleason? I barely had my blade in and ye were already pulling his heart out." Archie asked Gleason, making Glendon hold back a laugh at hearing it. 

"Och, it's no hard, Archie. Ye just need tae change yer grip and the way ye cut at him. Try it more like this." Gleason told him and showed him his method of attack.

"Aye, I can try that." Archie responded, his face not even hinting at the set up he was doing.

"Bring two more." Gleason called out smiling and two more were lifted by the arms and dragged to their deaths.

Gleason spun his blade around, the droplets of blood arcing off the tip as he waited. Archie watched him intently and Gleason took a smug look at his opponent, feeling he was sure of a win. Once the men were readied, they went to stand before them. As Gleason approached, his man kicked out at him in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. Gleason jumped back in time and then rushed in and kneed the man in his groin, then in his midsection, quelling any more attempts to stop him. He shook his head in displeasure and then looked at Glendon and nodded he was ready. Glendon raised his arm and shouted ready, but a moment before he said go, Archie changed his grip in a blindingly fast move and drove the point in, before Gleason even reacted. In half a minute, Archie stood smiling happily, the beating heart of the man in his hand, draining its life force from it. Gleason finished shortly after and looked at Archie in wonderment, as he tossed the heart on the ground.

"That's one a piece. Next one wins. Two more men, if ye would." Glendon called out.

Gleason looked to his nephew and then to Archie again, feeling a trick was being played on him.

The dead were cut down and two more men were dragged to their places. No resistance was given by them, they knew their fates were sealed and death awaited them.

Cheers went up from the men to bolster their man, each side hoping for the win, as Gleason and Archie took their places. Gleason took a look at Archie's ability to wield a blade, as he watched Archie's blade spin faster and more intricately than he had done earlier, then looked at Glendon smiling happily.

"Ye cheated me, boy. Ye knew he could use a blade well and ye tricked me." Gleason accused his nephew, albeit with a smile of his own. "Does'ne matter, I'll best him this time." he boasted.

The two, tied men cursed and spat at their executioners, knowing it was their last act on earth. Laughter was the only response to their words, as they were approached. Eyes foretold of remorseless actions about to be committed, leaving the soon-to-be dead their last chance to pray for their souls. Glendon gave the condemned men a count of three, before he readied the men to start.

With the drop of his hand and go shouted, Archie and Gleason were upon their men, their hands quickly thrusting points in and twisting blades, despite the horrific screams of agony. Their actions were mirrored to each other, both reaching inside the chest cavity and extracting a heart. Archie boasted a win, but Glendon shouted over him it wasn't so.

"Gleason wins this one, Archie. I saw both hearts come out at the same time, so that makes it a tie, but Gleason's is still beating and yer's is'ne, so he's the winner. Well done, Uncle." Glendon told him, looking at the faint beating of the heart finally stop.

"Ye done well too, Archie. Ye would ha'e won, had it no been fer the soulless bastard ye had. He probably died of fright, before yer blade e'en touched him." Glendon acknowledged to his friend, as he put an arm on his shoulders and laughed.

"Aye, that's more tae what happened. Still, good blade work, Gleason." Archie said to him and shook wrists heartily.

"How do ye come tae work yer blade so well, Archie?" Gleason asked him.

"I cut out sheep's hearts, so this is no different." he joked back.

"Och, no wonder. Yer bloody good wi' it, is all I'll say." Gleason laughed back

The dead were cut down and piled on the others, no respect or decency to their bodies shown. Twenty four bodies in various states of death lay around the treeline, their stench permeating the air with the rawness of life force ended.

Gleason looked about at his men and held his bloodied dirk high for all to see, before wiping it off on the dead man and sheathing it again. 

"Are there any men left?" he called out.

"Two left, Gleason." his men answered.

"Bring them tae me." he shouted back.

The two naked men were brought to Gleason and stood before him. He looked at the pathetic state they were in and knew great terror had taken them. 

"Ye've seen great horrors this day, ones that will live in yer souls fer eternity. I will spare yer lives, so that ye can tell of this day tae others. Let it be known that none shall rise against us and win. Look down the glen and know it well in yer minds, fer it shall be yer last sight. Yer no fit tae look upon the beauty of the Highlands, so from this day hence, the sight of yer men dead, is the last ye's will know. Pluck out their eyes and let them wander down the glen, tae where'er God's hand guides them." Gleason told them and turned away, as men began using thumbs to pry the eyes from their sockets. 

The screams of pain rang off the hills and echoed far up the loch, as the orbs now dangled loosely from their bloody sockets. The two were pushed in the direction to follow and began slowly plodding along in agony, holding hands with each other to keep contact.

"They make a grand couple, don't they?" Gleason jested, a raucous laughter and more jokes ensuing from the men.

Gleason turned to Glendon, his face loosing its mirth and turning sombre.

"We need tae return tae battle, son, but I want tae see Gordon before we go. I pray tae the Great Father, he'll grant him peace from his suffering. I saw his hands and I can only imagine that his face is as bad under that kelp." 

"It is, Uncle. The blast tore the flesh away and left him bare of it. I did'ne recognize him at first. I thought the men had raised a ghoul from the loch, until he spoke tae me. I fear God will take him soon, but he'll be wi' Daniel at his side if he does. My heart is torn fer him, he's my brother, but it tears me more if he has tae live like that, than losing him. I feel damned fer wanting God tae take him and end his suffering." Glendon confessed quietly.

Gleason walked him away from the others, letting their thoughts remain private.

"I feel the same, son. The pain he'll be in will tear at his soul and drive him mad. No one will want tae look upon him and shun him, so they will. Ye know it in yer heart it'll be so. He'll need tae know his boy is dead as well and that will surely take him."

Glendon's head sank to his chest, knowing his uncle's words were true. Gleason wrapped his arm over his shoulders and hugged his nephew to him, as they began climbing the hill.

Before they had made it halfway, Griffin was coming down to them. The look on his face told them before his words did.

"He's gone. He passed in my arms just a moment ago. His last words were fer ye Glendon and his son. Yer tae raise him as yer own and he's tae grow intae the man his father raised him tae be. He said tae hold him in yer heart always, then he passed." Griffin said in comforting tones. "He's suffering no more and is wi' God in heaven, he's at rest now."

Glendon and Gleason thanked him for all he had done, then went to see him one last time. They saw him laying there, covered by a plaid, then knelt beside him. Glendon peeled back the wool blanket, giving Gleason a look at the damage done to his other nephew. Glendon heard the gasp and laid the blanket back over again, sparing his uncle any further agony.

"It's a blessing he's gone, Glendon. No man should ha'e tae live like that. How he survived it, is a miracle in itself." he said with shocked astonishment.

Glendon stood and crossed his hand over his heart, tears rolling down his cheeks, despite his desire to be strong. Gleason did the same, then laid his arm over his nephew's shoulder, leading him away. Glendon stopped and turned to Gillie, still standing quietly on guard.

"Watch o'er him, Gillie. If I don'ne return, see tae it Gordon and Daniel are buried together beside oor parents."

Gillie never spoke a word, instead, he just bowed his head slowly and crossed his large axe over his heart. Glendon knew his friend would die, before his words weren't obeyed. He bowed his head to him in return, crossing his heart and then left with Gleason to join the others.

***************************

"So, now ye ha'e a better idea of how they were back then. Honour and respect in battle between men, was'ne something they did in most cases. I know Tavish and Stuart will also attest that it happened that way, as Grayson wrote it in his diaries of the battle, how it sickened him tae learn of it happening. As I said before tae the other guests, it was a time when he who held the sword, held the land and the rule of it. If he was a brutal man, men died in brutal ways. Men no older than yerself, Sean, were in this battle. This was their first taste of blood and killing another man. It was a time when there was'ne any army tae come and defend ye. Ye picked up what ye had tae defend yerself wi' and went intae battle. Ye gained yer armour and weapons as ye went, in most cases. Was there anything like that in yer history lessons?" Argus asked the awestruck quartet.

"Not a chance." Tom said shaking his head still.

"Nope, not in mine." David replied.

"Mine either." Mark said next.

"That so has to go in the books. Why do they leave out the best parts? What an awesome game this would make. They could have a level where the player gets to decide what he wants to do to the guy, instead of having to do what they programmed. Then you could..." Sean stopped his enthusiasm suddenly, hearing his father.

"Sean, Sean, enough son. Save that for your friends on line, I'm sure they'd appreciate the dynamics of it better. For now, let's just hear the rest of the story. I'd like to know how this turns out. There's no more stuff like that though, is there, Argus?" Mark asked, hoping to spare his son anymore video game fodder and spare his mind any more vivid thoughts of what had happened already.

"Aye, I think we've had enough of that, Argus. Let's get us back tae Grayson coming across. There's some action ye don't want tae miss. Is everyone okay? Need a wee break or anything tae eat or drink?" Stuart asked, looking to everyone, then seeing they were fine, went on. "I guess the women are quite happy talking about whate'er it is they're talking about, so it's just us. If everyone's fine, we can go on then. Argus, bring us up the loch a few miles and what happened wi' Grayson." 

"Uncle Stuart, are any of those swords out in the hall, any of the ones they used back then, or are they like, fake ones?" Sean asked him, hoping the former was true.

"Fake ones? No, none of they swords out there are fake. In fact, one of those swords was used in this battle. Garreth's Claymore is out there, along wi' his targe and I'll lay odds that a forensic test would still find blood on them, e'en though they've be cleaned." Stuart assured him.

"No kidding? Can I go see it?" Sean's enthusiasm was hitting fever pitch.

"Yes, I'd like to see it too." Mark added.

"Let's go then." Stuart said, before any further requests came and led them into the hall.

He led them to it and Sean's face was agog at the sight of it.

"It's huge! How did he swing that thing without falling over?" Sean exclaimed, his father and uncle both wondering the same.

"Then ye can imagine how big and strong he was. Wi' two hands, he could slice a man in two, any way he chose, as ye've just heard. I must say, ye do bring vivid clarity tae things, Argus, ye really do." Stuart told him in sincerity.

"I feel ye ha'e a tendency tae remember it more if it's told that way. Yer no going tae ferget what I just told ye's, are ye's?" Argus asked them.

"True enough, Argus. I know this will make very interesting water cooler conversation for days, once I go back. I know my manager will want all the details. He's a big history buff and loves this stuff." David responded.

"I know my guys will go crazy over this too. All they talk about is that damned wrestling crap and UFC. I want Gillian to get some pics of all this, so I can show them. They'll go nuts over it. When I tell them what they were doing back then, their stuff will seem tame and hopefully let up on how tough they think those TV fighters are." Mark told them,

As they were admiring more of the swords on display, the women returned from the garden, still enjoying a laugh about something.

"Ah, the men are finally finished talking about that horrid stuff, I see. What are we into now?" Roberta asked.

"We were just showing the men the swords and weapons they used o'er the ages. I know ye ladies are'ne interested in all of this, so after we finish up wi' the battle, I ha'e some things tae show ye's ye'll enjoy seeing, won't they, Deb?" Stuart told them, knowing Deb's excitement would confirm it was worth sitting through the battle talk.

"Oh yes. Roberta, Gillian, you are going to love what Uncle Stuart has to show you. It is worth sitting through all the gory stuff. Trust me when I tell you, you haven't heard half of the stuff they did to each other, so thank yourselves lucky this is all you have to know about. In all honesty though, for all the brutality they showed, I have been fascinated from the beginning about what happened and so has Tom. I'm so happy these wonderful men have taken the time to tell us it all. This whole trip has been magical from the moment we landed, it really has." she told them and saw the look of acceptance that it was worth listening to.

As the group made its way into the salon again, Gordon was approaching to announce that guests were at the door. Stuart asked who it was and upon hearing who they were, excused himself and went with Gordon to the front hall. Three ladies from the reunion had returned with material for Deb's dress and were eager to get it measured and pinned. Stuart welcomed them in and led them to the salon.

"Ladies, it looks like ye ha'e some business tae attend tae. Deb, the women ha'e the material fer yer dress and need tae fit ye fer it. I sure ye all want tae be in on that, so we'll talk battle, while ye's go and tend tae that." he told them and saw the excitement on their faces.

"Come on girls, let's go to my room and make a dress. I think that's much more exciting than battles, indeed." Deb announced and the women gave their respective others a quick kiss and excused themselves, before quickly making their way up the staircase to her room, the buzz of their talking fading as they made their way.

The men made themselves comfortable and sat back, waiting for the story to continue. Argus sat back in the oversized chair and crossed his legs, enjoying all the attention paid to him.

"Let me refresh yer memory of Grayson. Blair and his ten men were paddling their crippled birlinn across, wi' still a fair bit tae go, while Grayson had rounded the point and was bearing down on them. His men were straining the oars tae their limits as they rowed, the wind bringing their speed up tae battle ready. Grayson stood at the prow, his eyes keen on one man in the birlinn ahead."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 49



Grayson's eyes were locked onto Blair, never taking them off of him. The bow cast the spray into his face, his red hair becoming drenched, as the birlinn skimmed the surface of the dark water. Blair and his men could see them coming and rowed as fast as they could, the inability to steer making it more difficult. Blair could see his father and yelled out to him, but he was still too far away for any assistance in cover fire. MacRae sat on his horse and watched, as Grayson's birlinn closed on his son. He yelled for archers to fire upon Grayson, but none were able to cover the distance. Helpless to do anything, he watched as the last yards were covered and knew his son's birlinn was going to be rammed, leaving them too far out to assist. 

"Steer for the men and crush them, Iain." Grayson yelled back to him and Iain set his course for them.

Blair heard Grayson call out his name and knew his suspicions were correct, MacLean had turned on them. With nothing else they could do, the men bailed overboard and tried to swim for shore, as the bow of Grayson's birlinn rode over the side of the battered birlinn and splintered the wood as it did. Grayson looked to see where Blair went, as the hull rode over and back into the water on the other side. Men fired arrows at the swimmers as they went past, hitting four and ending their chance of making it to shore.

Bring it back around, Iain." Grayson shouted and Iain swung the tiller hard over, bringing them about quickly and then the men began rowing again. "Run them down and take them out. Archers ready yer arras. Rowers, if ye can, knock them under wi' yer oars. No man is tae make it tae shore alive." 

Grayson scanned the wreckage and the water surrounding it, looking for signs of MacRae. He could make out seven heads in the water, but didn't know one from the other, or which one was Blair. As he neared, it was his luck that Blair turned to face him and gave himself away. Grayson undid his belts and dropped his kilt and armour, keeping his dirk only in his hand. Waiting until he was close enough, he leapt from the side on top of Blair, driving him under water. Grayson couldn't get a good hold of him and Blair was able to break free and surface. As fast as he could, his dirk was out and looking for Grayson to surface. Not seeing him come up right away, he looked underwater in time to see Grayson's dirk heading for his chest. 

Quickly he manoeuvred sideways and escaped the blade. He thrust his dirk down at Grayson, hoping to catch his unprotected side, but Grayson was prepared and grabbed his wrist and pulled him under. Blair grabbed Grayson's wrist in return and both men were locked in a stand off, sinking slowly deeper as they struggled. 

James watched in frustrated panic, as his son went under, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him. The other men were methodically picked off by arrows and swords, some bashed over the head by oar blades. By the time the birlinn passed, not one man was swimming to shore. 

Deep below them, the struggle continued. With the light fading, all Blair could see was the rage in Grayson's eyes and knew he was determined to kill him, or die trying. He kicked out and fought to come up for air, his lungs burning and his head beginning to fail in thinking. He kicked Grayson in the chest and broke free, making for the surface with all haste. Grayson swam after him and both broke the surface and gasped in air. Both lunged and swung their blades at each other, as they tried to stay afloat. Tips and edges grazed flesh and stained the water red around them.

James watched his son's struggle, helpless to come to his aid, as he tried to swim and slashed out at Grayson, trying to keep him from making it to shore. Blair made a bit of distance between Grayson and himself and used it to start kicking at him. With a lucky shot, he smashed his foot into Grayson's face, stunning him and giving him a break to swim. Blair's kilt weighed him down and made it hard to make good speed, but he strained with each stroke of his arms to make shore and the safety of his father's men. Grayson felt the pain in his nose and knew it was broken, but never paid any mind to it. His attention went back to Blair, now a good distance away. Taking a deep breath, he dove under the water and swam after him. Blood trailed from his nose, as he began closing on Blair. He could see him struggling to swim above him and began to rise to him, his dirk firm in his hand and ready to strike.

As Blair neared his father, he smiled at him, feeling safety at how close he was. James watched him and felt an ease at thinking he would make it to him. As both became assured of him walking from the loch, Grayson's dirk found the exposed belly of Blair and drove deeply into it. James could see the pain on his son's face, but didn't know what was happening. Blair suddenly rolled onto his back and the dirk could be seen embedded in him. Grayson surfaced and took hold of the dirk again and pulled it through Blair's abdomen, slicing it open and spilling his entrails into the water. James screamed in horror at seeing his son die before his eyes, then screamed again for every archer to fire at Grayson.

As the arrows released, Grayson ducked under the water and swam as hard as he could to get out of range of the arrows and back to his birlinn. Iain could see the danger Grayson was in and made a heading for where he thought he would surface. He used the birlinn as a shield for him and came into fire from the archers. The men used targes to defend themselves from the arrows, as they scoured the waters for where Grayson was. He surfaced a short distance away and swam for the side, then hands pulled him aboard and shortly after, oars were out and plied through the water, bringing them out of range and into safety once again. 

Grayson looked back at the body of Blair MacRae floating on the water, as men went out to retrieve it. He looked on shore and saw James glaring at him, his eyes filled with rage and vengeance towards him. In his heart, Grayson felt a peace at knowing the man who had defiled his woman, had paid for his sins. He held his dirk up and then pointed it at James. insinuating he was going to use it on him too. James raged at his challenge and demanded he come and fight him. Grayson laughed loudly at him, as they made their way towards Donan and he re-dressed again.

James ordered the attack out of vengeful rage, his mind focused only on the death of his enemies and nothing more. Taking Donan became secondary, ending the lives of those he despised, becoming more of importance. Rennie didn't agree in his mind, but followed the command and gave the order for his cavalry to lead the attack. Taking Donan was his mission and he secretly made plans to countermand any order MacRae made, that he felt jeopardized the objective. His allegiance was to the Earl and the King of Scotland, so stated in his orders by Thomas Marlborough, not James MacRae. If killing MacRae accomplished his goal, then it would be so.

The heavy pounding echoed off the hills, signalling the beginning of the attack. Garreth's men were positioned two hundred yards away, the pits a scant fifty yards in front of them. Garreth had the men hold their positions, as the cavalry bore down on them, their spear tips glinting in the mid-day sun. The line began to spread out, as they made the clearing, widening their swath of attack, and closing fast on the pits. 

MacRae and Rennie waited back until the cavalry was close to engaging, then began the second wave. James led the charge at full gallop, his sword brandished high and screaming his rage out. Rennie stayed close, but kept his attention on the hills, more than the line ahead of him. He could see the blind focus of MacRae on killing men and not being aware of any attacks from the flanks. The foot soldiers brought up the rear, now running at a good speed. The cavalry was to break through the front lines and open a path for the second wave, which were to ride to the gate and begin the attack. This would leave the way clear for the foot soldiers to mass on the castle and begin the siege. The cavalry made at full charge for Garreth's line of three hundred men, ready to trample them and engage with him and his one hundred men on horse behind them.

High up in the hills above, a lone figure watched the battle unfold before him. He focused on the second wave of attackers, the large size of the leader easily recognized. He kept his concentration on every move he made and what happened to him. Wanting a better vantage point, he carefully made his way down, keeping MacRae in sight as best he could. Lightly touching his chest, the painful sting reminded him of what he had to do. Kirklan Douglas had one mission in his life, see James MacRae dead, or kill him himself. He held the amulet he wore around his neck, given to him by the old woman, Leigh. Despite her homely looks that never granted her a place in a man's heart, she became a noted member of their clan as their healer and one who had helped bring most of the clan into this world and cared for them. Most thought of her as a mother, while the elders knew her darker calling as a witch. Many wore amulets and came to rid themselves of ails and demons, while others came for advice on how to vanquish a foe. Kirklan was one who wanted that advice. 

Casting a spell on a clay effigy of MacRae, she cursed him to lose all he had, then embedding her powers into a smooth stone, etched with symbols, she blessed Kirklan with good fortune on his journey and safe passage, then placed the amulet around his neck. She told him he would be invisible to his enemies as long as he wore it and he believed in every word she uttered. He was standing there at that moment, unseen and unharmed as she had told him he would. He had followed MacRae's march to Donan on horseback from a safe distance behind, never seen or bothered by any who would do harm to him. He ate well and slept in relative comfort under the stars. 

Holding the cursed, clay figurine in his hands, he had uttered the words she told him to say and he watched in amazement, as the curse took effect. One scene after another had played out before him and at each turn, MacRae was being defeated and losing all he had. She was good to her word and now had a new believer and follower of her dark arts. As much though as MacRae lost, Kirklan would never be satisfied until the blood of James MacRae ran upon the ground and stained it for ever more.

Coming fast from behind, Robert and his men were riding full speed, the element of surprise still to their advantage, as they rounded the last bend. The foot soldiers at the rear had no idea what was upon them, as two hundred and sixty swords and axes began felling them like crops at harvest. They kept riding into the midst of them, before they could go no further and began a standing fight. Quickly they were swarmed by four hundred men, only a third of the massive force who out-numbered them. Robert and the men began fending off two or three attackers at a time, many unable to meet the challenge and died from numerous points entering them.. The rest of the troops kept charging after the cavalry, most near the front not knowing of the conflict behind them. Seeing the attack begin, Iain and his two hundred savage farmers bolted from cover and began surrounding the attack, circling the enemy between forces attacking in and another attacking outward. An impenetrable ring of death began.

The numbers became more equal in strength, combatants now squaring off in pairs, giving others the chance to put the odds in their favour. Lochaber axes were thrust low past the front men, the razor sharp blades slicing thighs and calves of the men they battled, then hooks wrapped around ankles and tripping other men to the ground, where they were quickly dispatched with sword or axe. Slowly the middle band dwindled in size, as did the inner core and outer band as well. Horses trampled men underfoot, completing what a weapon hadn't done, while some horses were killed, their riders becoming trapped and set upon by numerous blades. 

Blood sprayed and poured from men, their limbs and appendages littered the ground, while entrails gushed from them, as their bellies were sliced open. The stench of death filled the air and the horses began panicking and trying to run, unable to be among the dead any longer. The men used it to their advantage and drove outward, thrashing and hacking with all effort, as the steeds reared and thrashed with hooves. The outer ring saw the move and kept the push forward going strong, compressing the fighting area and lessening the MacRae troops chances of escaping. 

Without knowing who was truly the enemy, the MacDonald's inadvertently killed their new allies, the MacLean's. Iain watched with great sorrow at being unable to save them, their fates sealed with the pact made with MacRae. Grayson looked back at him and saw the loss take him hard. He knew in his heart that Iain was prepared to lose some men to regain honour and favour with his clan again, but seeing it happen, brought the sacrifice to his heart like the point of a sword. 

They sailed away from the beginning fray and the attacking cavalry, landing closer to Donan. Iain felt the loss of each of his clansmen as they fell, but knew it was a small percentage, as most of his men made up the second wave of riders, now charging with MacRae. Grayson, Iain and the clansmen ran the birlinn into the shore and leapt from the sides. Garreth watched in wonder, as he recognized the pale, muted colours of the MacLean tartan and Iain, coming with Grayson towards him. 

"So ye came tae yer senses did ye, Iain? I've warned the men tae no attack yer clansmen, but ye'll ha'e tae let those ones know they've changed sides. How do ye plan on doing that?" Garreth asked him pointedly, seeing them come around the point, just over a hundred yards behind the cavalry. 

"I want everyone tae shout our battle cry, bas no beatha, (live or die). Me, and my men, will be out front fer them tae see our tartan and know it's not a trick. I'll gi'e them a signal they know and they'll break off from attack. God save me past this charge fer it tae happen." Iain fretted his worries, as the cavalry neared the first lines of men.

"Don't take such worry, Iain. In a moment, ye'll see why my men up there are so calm. Watch the cavalry as they approach." Garreth told him. "Best watch from o'er there." he told Grayson and the others, pointing to the nearby woods.

Word was quickly spread to the men on what to shout and awaited Iain's signal. 

All faces were turned and watched the advancing chargers bearing down with lances on the front lines of soldiers. The first row suddenly started dropping from sight, the riders hurled onto the ground, or crushed by their mounts, the confusion of where to go putting the next row in a panic to find a way past. Riders tried leaping over the others, but their weight was too great for the horses to clear the pits, tripping them up and being crushed by the tumbling chargers. As some made it past the first set, they fell into the subsequent ones, lessening their numbers greatly, before they made it to the front lines. By the time they cleared the pits, the charging cavalry had lost over thirty riders, their ability to re-group impossible. 

With the confusion of the moment, the front line of men readied their spears and charged forward. The multitude of points were aimed at the horse's chests, the ability to stop a horse being greater than the rider. The chargers turned towards the men bearing down on them in an effort to defend against them. Points met and men and horse were gored as they collided. Blades were drawn by the men and engaged the riders, dragging them from their mounts and delaying the rest from advancing through. The line held as long as they could, before the cavalry broke through and bore down on Garreth and his men in the next line. Grayson and the others on foot, ran for the woods to keep out of the way, as the thundering hooves came closer. One hundred yards was being closed fast, as the cavalry formed a spearhead attack to break open a swath.

Garreth had waited until this moment and then reached into his tunic and pulled out a large square of yellow silk, unfurling it and screaming out the clan motto, "Hold Fast". In moments, the men could feel the charge in the air, the energy surrounding them, making their skin tingle as a result. Grayson looked around him and couldn't believe what his eyes beheld, as their numbers seemed to be increasing to double in strength and more. The Fairy Flag glowed in the sunlight like a beacon, it's powers unleashed by the only one who could summon them, the chief of the MacLeod's.

The cavalry were committed to attack and ready to charge into the front lines, unable to stop the inevitable. What seemed like a single line of one hundred riders, had become a mass of rows, one after the other. With no other choice but disbelief, they continued the charge and broke through. Quickly swarmed, they couldn't break through the lines and began combat. Rennie and MacRae had watched the events unfold at the pits and quickly changed course to ride around them, taking them closer to the water. 

**************************

"Excuse me, Mr Stewart, but what's a fairy flag? It can't mean what I think it means." Sean asked, sparking thoughts off in the other's heads to what he meant.

With a laugh, Stuart told him it was an ancient artifact that was given to their ancestors by a fairy queen, not a banner for Gay Pride.

"No one knows fer sure where it actually came from, but the silk is from the near east, from around the fourth tae sixth century. They did tests on it years back tae prove its authenticity, but nothing came about other than that. To its powers, well, yer hearing about it now in this telling and that's been written about by many people. Every MacLeod pilot in WWII that fought in the Battle of Britain or the bombing raids on Germany came back. Not one was lost. They say its because every one carried a picture or a tiny piece of the flag wi' them on every mission. Does'ne seem possible, when ye look at the losses, but not one was killed. So there's something tae be said about its powers, whether ye believe it or not. Would ye like tae see it? It's in my office and I'll tell ye of the tales surrounding it. Might as well look at it and see it fer yerself. It's old and tattered and very fragile, so it's behind glass." Stuart told him.

"Sounds like me, so it does." Argus quipped and everyone laughed, as they headed into Stuart's office.

Two floors above in Deb's room, the women had set out all the material for her on the four poster bed. Quickly, Deb started picking samples up and held them to her body, as she looked in the mirror. 

"These are absolutely gorgeous!" Deb exclaimed happily. "Ladies, how can I ever thank you enough for this." she spun around and told them, smiling out her joy to them.

"Then let's put them together and make a dress for you, Deb." Lisa suggested, seeing how well everything went together.

The call came from the women to get started taking measurements and pinning it together, so Deb excitedly started to undress,.Removing her blouse and casual slacks, eyes took notice of her body being bared and the sexy undergarments barely covering her. While Margret MacLeod opened her sewing kit and took out a cloth measuring tape, Deb heard the murmured whispers and noticed all the eyes in the mirror, looking at her body. Clad only in her lacy, pale, pink bra and matching thong panties, they barely had enough material to cover her modestly, the lacy triangle revealing her smooth, shaven skin underneath. 

"What can I say? I love pretty underthings. I got this set at La Senza for my birthday, from Tom. He likes them too, but of course, if he has half a chance, they won't stay on for long." Deb acknowledged some of her intimacies, to add to their suspicions.




Blood of the Clans Ch. 49



"Deb, you have a body to die for, seriously. Tom must go crazy for you." Gillian spoke out boldly.

"He gets his hands on my girls and he's in heaven he said and I know he is." Deb said laughing loudly, her ample breasts bouncing in response, as she cupped them. 

"How tall are ye, Dear?" Margret asked Deb, cutting in on the conversation and taking charge.

"Five feet, seven inches in bare feet." she responded and Margret wrote it down.

"Okay, good. I'll take yer measurements and Gayle, would ye write them down fer me, Hen?" Margret asked her, handing the notepad to her.

"My pleasure, Marg." she told her and sat on the bed, with the pad and pen waiting.

Margret wrapped the tape around Deb's chest, just under her bra and pulled it taut, the others anxious to hear what it was.

"Thirty five inches." she called out and slid it down to Deb's waist.

"Twenty six inches." she called out, a hint of envy showing in her tone. 

Deb smiled inwardly, knowing her body held the interest of men and women alike.

Marg slipped the tape down over Deb's hips and snugged it tight around her curvaceous cheeks.

"Thirty seven inches."

"Damn Deb, how do you stay in such good shape?" Roberta asked her, hearing the measurements.

"Good food, good exercise, a good man and plenty of good sex, I guess." Deb quipped, and knew the other women were envious of her, even if they did laugh along.

"That's okay, Dear, a couple of bairns will fix that. Yer hips will lose that slimness and yer tummy will'ne be so flat anymore. Feed the wee bairns wi' those lovely things and they'll no look so good either. I say enjoy this while ye can, Deb. Lord knows we lose it so quickly and can'ne get it back again. Are ye wearing a bra under the dress?" Marg asked her.

"No, I wasn't going to. They didn't wear them back them, so I wanted to stay truer to that style. I really like the bared shoulders." she told her, looking in the mirror at her body now and imagining the firm, youthfulness gone and replaced with the growth of motherhood and maturity.

"Can ye slip yer's off then, Love? We'll need tae get the natural look of ye and where we'll need tae put in darts and make cups and such." Marg informed her and eyes began to concentrate on the unknown and imagined.

Deb reached up behind her back and undid the two small clasps, taking the shoulder straps down her arms and then freed the luscious mounds encased in the lace cups. 

"Dear God, they did'ne e'en move. Yer blessed wi' them, so ye are. What do ye need a bra fer?" Marion MacLeod blurted out, as she sat and sketched out the size and shape of Deb's body on her artist's pad.

"Because if I didn't wear one, my nipples would be sticking out a mile for everyone to see. Even now the cool air is making them stick out." Deb replied openly, trying to push the budding growth back down with her palms.

"Quite the excitable girl, aren't you?" Roberta exclaimed, seeing the turgid buds try to remain erect, despite Deb's poking them back in.

Deb's nervousness was now becoming prevalent to everyone, as they watched her battle nature's insistence. 

"Och, not tae worry, Hen. It's just us women and we all ha'e the same problem, don't we ladies?" Marg spoke out, easing Deb's concerns and getting nods and agreements she wasn't alone.

Once the material started to get laid over her, covering her nudity enough to hide her aroused state, Deb felt more at ease, as hands held material to her and others pinned it.

"I bet the men are into some heavy battle talk about now. Wouldn't they love to be a part of this instead." Gillian spoke out and lightened the mood even more.

"Too bad, Tom is the only man who's going to see the whole package. I swear, if I was a man, I'd be all over you. Damn you're one sexy woman, Debra McRae." Roberta blurted out and received several sideways looks from the other women, while Deb blushed crimson.

"Och, leave the poor girl alone. She can'ne help it if God reached down and touched her, ga'e her the beauty she has." Marg chided, knowing how uncomfortable Deb was feeling.

"Now, what's yer cup size, Love? I'll need tae know how full tae let out the bust fer ye."

"I'm a full C, Marg and thank you, it is a bit embarrassing to be standing here, pretty well naked, even if it is just us women." Deb said in hopes of quelling anymore talk of her body.

"Do ye ha'e a pair of those wee panties in any of these colours, Debra?" Yolanda MacDonald asked her, "They'd look smashing under this." she said, as she held up the gossamer fabric for the lower part of the dress.

Yolanda folded it several times to simulate the dress's layers and wrapped it around Deb's waist. With direct light behind her, Deb's body was outlined in detail, with only a hint she wasn't completely naked, as the panties barely showed through.

Uhm, I don't think I want this to be that revealing. Makes me look like a Vegas showgirl, or something. I was thinking of a long panel of that brocade, tapered to a point and ending about here." Deb said, as she held her finger to her pubic mound. "That would keep me covered for the most part and still have a good sense of allure, without showing everyone the goods. What do you think?" she asked the others.

A consensus was reached on the idea and soon, the dress started to take shape and no more mention of Deb's body was heard, as Marion began dressing the form of Deb on her page and needed measurements were taken to fit the patterns.

Coming out of Stuart's office, Sean was still shaking his head in disbelief at seeing so many artifacts to prove the story being told was real. 

"Thought we were just telling ye auld lang syne stories, Sean?" Stuart asked him, seeing him in awe of everything now."

So all he did was hold it up and shout our motto and magical stuff happened?" Sean said in wonder.

"Aye, once we're seated again, Argus can finish up wi' the battle. I wonder how the ladies are making out wi' Deb's dress? Knowing Margret, she'll come up wi' something grand. She's made some splendid gowns fer the ladies in the past, so this will be one I know she'll put a great effort intae, tae impress us." Stuart told them, as they entered the salon again and sat down."And Debra, well, she could wear a sack and look good. Truly Tom, she's an absolute beauty, so she is." he finished, making Tom glow with pride.

"Auld lang syne stories? Isn't that about New Years, or something?" David asked.

"Och, don't tell me ye don't know what auld lang syne means? Old, long times. Times long past, is maybe a better term. It was used more as the start of a tale, much like once upon a time is used now. It was Robbie Burns that set the words tae an old Scottish piece that we all sing at New Years, or Hogmanay really, as it starts December thirty first. There's speculation the tradition of Hogmanay started where Garreth and Therese were in France at that time. Wouldn't it be a bit of history fer us, if it was they two that started the tradition." Stuart told everyone, diverting attention still from an impatient Argus. 

"Okay, are we through wi' show and tell now? I'll ha'e tae think a wee bit where we left off." Argus announced, wanting to enjoy the limelight again. "Aye, I'd just told ye's about young Kirklan, almost fergot about him and he's a key player, as ye'll find out later. Garreth had just raised the Fairy Flag as the cavalry approached and began battling wi' them. MacRae and Rennie headed fer the coast tae avoid the pits and continue tae the castle."



Blood of the Clans Ch. 50



Iain saw his men following MacRae towards the shore and broke from cover. Screaming as loud as he could and waving his arms, he hoped his brother, or one of the others would hear or see him. Grayson joined him, both waving their arms and yelling the MacLean motto and then more voices joined in. 

Stuart MacLean was riding with his clansmen in the last half of the charge, when his arm was pulled by one of his men and told to turn and look at the two men on the battlefield. Iain was instantly recognizable to him, but confusion took him, as to why he was with Grayson and they were yelling their clan oath. He watched him closer and saw that Iain was giving him a signal. He knew what Iain wanted him to do, but didn't trust what he saw under the circumstances. Noticing more MacLean tartans engaged in battle with MacRae's cavalry, he fought his doubts and heeded the signal given by his brother.

Giving the command to break away, he and his men, along with a few members of the other clans, rode in front of the pits and on towards Iain and Grayson. The echoes of their oath were still ringing out from men positioned around them, further confusing them.

MacRae and Rennie were unaware of the diversion and continued their charge for the opening along the shoreline, their force cut close to half by the loss of the MacLean's. Stuart halted quickly in front of Iain and looked desperately for an answer from him.

"We're wi' the MacDonald's now, Stuart. No time tae explain why, just know that MacRae is going tae lose this battle and we'll ne'er set foot in a castle or lands if we stay wi' him. We lost at Tioram and the same is happening here. Rid yer ranks of those of other clans wi' ye. When ye ha'e, ride back like ye's are still wi' them. When the attack begins, do yer best tae keep them from escaping" Iain instructed his brother.

As word spread of the defection, men were soon engaged in combat. The MacDougall's and Douglas' that were once fast allies, were soon at each other as mortal enemies. It wasn't long before all objectors were slain and the new alliance of men were ready to fight against the opposition. Stuart led them away, but hearts weren't resting easy with the change. 

Waiting in the treeline was Sloan Fraser, along with his men, watching the men who slaughtered his family and clan, slaughter yet another in their quest for power. The tense mood heightened with each yard that was closed, as memories of their slain, remained vivid in their minds.

Stuart MacLean had been at the Falls of Lora massacre, Sloan remembered him standing beside his brother, Iain, the bodies of his clansmen subjected to the Blood Eagle, hanging from the trees around them. In his heart, he held the MacLean's accountable for his clan's deaths and only their own deaths would be equal repayment for justice.

Stuart saw the looks on the faces of the Fraser clan as he passed them and felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. This was a secret fear he had held since that day, that retribution for his acts would come to him one day and this, was now that day. He rode past them and felt the weight of burden for his deeds, sit heavy in his heart.

MacRae felt a moment of triumph, as he and his men joined the fray with the heavy cavalry and held the defenders back, giving the foot soldiers a clear path to the castle. 

The Pioneers were towing the siege equipment behind their horses, slowing them down from the second wave, but fate was on their side and they too, made it past and on to their objective. The foot soldiers now rounded the last point and began charging for the castle. On past their cavalry, the men closed on Donan and readied for an attack.

Peadair saw the charge coming and had his archers prepare for them. Flamers were readied for the siege attempt and the plan Grayson had suggested. MacRae and Rennie had the men assemble around them, the orders for the attack given quickly, as the Pioneers unhooked the carts and positioned them at the ready.

The siege carts, thick wooden shields on two wheels, were large enough for four archers to take cover behind and fire through the vertical slits. Dorlochis were attached to it, filled with arrows for rapid attack. Slowly the first one was pushed forward and onto the bridge, followed closely behind by the second and third carts, the slippery oil making it hard to gain a foothold for traction.. Archers fired on them, hoping to catch an unguarded man. MacRae divided his attention between the raging battle behind him and the men crossing the bridge. His hopes of winning felt good to him, as he saw the cavalry continue to battle Garreth and his men, keeping them from him and the attack as planned. 

Arrows flew from the castle battlements at the attackers, keeping them under cover behind their shield. Peadair waited until all three carts were past the bridge and put into position. Arrows began whistling at him and his men, keeping them under cover, just as he hoped. Seeing the time was right, soldiers began running over the bridge with ladders, followed by the main force. At the decisive moment, Peadair yelled out to the archers and flamers soared over the walls and landed on the bridge, lighting ablaze the oil covering it. 

Men were instantly engulfed with flames, diving from the bridge into the shallow water to extinguish the agonizing pain of being burned alive. Others ran back into the mass of men behind still pushing forward, lighting them up in the conflagration. MacRae watched in horror, as a hundred men perished in flames before his eyes. It wasn't long before the smell of burnt flesh permeated the air and wafted to him, adding to his misery. The bridge was engulfed in flames and mayhem, stranding the archers behind their shields. MacRae watched, as forty plus men rushed from the shattered castle gate, blades ready to strike. The archers were at a loss to fire on them, the angle of the shields preventing them a chance to fire on the approaching wave of death. Quickly, the men behind each shield abandoned their protection and ran for the water in an attempt to escape. None touched a foot to the water, as they were overrun and set upon by blades. 

A tremendous roar of victory rose from the men in the castle, as they looked at the dead and dying on the bridge and the chance of another attack defeated. From the starboard rails of the Ville de Lyon, Arabella and Therese, along with Princess Margret and the French, watched the battle unfold and the attack thwarted. Therese struggled to see where Garreth was in the melee, wanting to assure herself he was still alive, while Arabella tore her attention in two, looking for Grayson and also Braedon, somewhere amidst the flailing blades of the battle with the cavalry, as thick, black smoke rose in a column from the bridge and drifted towards the battle. 

MacRae suddenly felt the anguish of loss take him, as he saw his forces decimated and his chance at reclaiming Donan, once again within his grasp, snatched away in defeat. Unbridled rage surged through him and vengeance was now his only motivator to go on. 

He saw the MacLean's riding around the outside of the battling cavalry, thinking they were flanking them and gave a signal to engage. Stuart saw the signal and gave the order to charge. MacRae gave orders for the remaining men to align behind him and Rennie. With fifty riders and less than two hundred men, he advanced them towards the ongoing battle, hoping to wipe out as many of his foe as he could. 

Coming from farther down the coast, Glendon, Gordon and their men were quickly covering the last few miles on foot. The sounds of battle rang from the hills, giving them the will to push hard and re-engage in battle. They came across the scene of battle where Robert and the others had ambushed the attacking force from behind. Dead bodies littered the area, the ground dark and damp from the blood. They halted and quickly looked for their own clansmen among the dead, but found none. As they stood stunned at the scene, a bloodied Athol emerged from the woods above them.

"Their no oors. Oor wounded and dead are up here. We took out a great number of their men, but we lost many ourselves. Once the last of them were killed, Robert had them continue tae the castle. They should be there now, or close tae it. We only took out a third or so of them, so there's still a large force. We lost close tae a hundred, most of them dead already, the rest are just waiting tae join them."

"We ha'e aid fer ye. Vernon, Douglas, see tae the men and do what ye can fer them. Save as many as ye can. Athol, ye and the men done well. Yer sacrifices will no be in vain." Gleason told him, then turned to the men, "We make fer the castle,now!"

Athol crossed his fist over his heart in gratitude as they rode off, while the two men climbed up to the dead and dying.

Bloodied and battle-worn, Robert and his men rounded the last bend at a full gallop. The scene before them was chaotic, men engaged in combat on foot and horseback. To his left, MacRae and his men were beginning to engage, while on the right, the MacLean's were charging in. The carnage of the pits showed their effectiveness as they rode past, dead animals and men filling them, while others lay around them in agony, their bodies mutilated and crushed by their own horses, as they tried to avoid meeting the same fate. 

Garreth and his riders were close to winning the battle with the cavalry, when MacRae's forces pushed the balance of power out of his favour. MacRae's men doubled up on attacking the defenders and Garreth could see his men falling in ever larger numbers and prayed in his heart for the strength to defeat them. The power of the Fairy Flag had served him well, but it wasn't enough to overcome the forces now attacking. Hopes became distant dreams, as the wave of MacRae's men advanced in control.

Stuart MacLean saw the onslaught beginning and had his men ride the flanks of the fray towards MacRae's men. MacRae saw him coming and felt the chance at winning take hold. As quickly as it started, it vanished just the same, as Stuart and his riders began hacking down the men on foot. MacRae was stunned by the turn of events and an even greater rage consumed him, at seeing the traitorous act. 

Hordes of men poured from the wooded areas around the battle and joined in with ferocity. Sorley led the Irishmen and waded into the fight, his sword meting out death in single blows, as did the swords of the others. 

Robert now advanced on the attacking MacRae's, driving them into the maelstrom of swinging blades. MacRae saw the attack and knew he had to make a move and get away. Charging his way forward, he and Rennie made a break to the outside of the fray, hoping to take the outside advantage away from Robert's men. Shock hit his face, as he saw the MacLean's felling his men, unaware they had turned on them. Leith and Rennie saw it also and looked for an escape route out of the ambush. 

Grayson and Garreth saw them trying to escape and worked their way towards them, their bloody swords hacking and cleaving at men, as they drew closer. Glenn MacDonnell saw it as well and wasn't going to allow MacRae to escape. The vengeance for his kin's murder coursed through him, as he slashed his way out of the fray. Once out, he made his way towards MacRae and the others, riding and slashing men as he went by. 

MacRae saw a chance to escape and rode with Leith and Rennie, along with a dozen others, towards the treeline. He knew if they could reach it, they could make a reasonable defence against attack, or escape if need be. Glenn saw their plan and rode hard around the bloody melee towards them, hoping to cut off their escape. 

Garreth saw Glenn riding hard for MacRae and motioned to Grayson. Worry gripped them, knowing Glenn's single-minded goal. Garreth made his way out and rode after him, wanting to support him in his vengeance-filled quest. As he rode, the scene around him was total chaos and carnage. Dismembered bodies and bloody corpses lay strewn on the battlefield ground, turning it crimson with the stains of death.

Glenn had his sword high and screaming out his blood-lust, as he rode for MacRae. Leith saw him approaching and rode in defence of his leader, blocking Glenn from attack. Riding headlong towards one another, their swords awash in blood, the two combatants were ready to face death. As they closed the distance, Leith drew his sword back to swing at Glenn's neck and upper body. Glenn saw the move and countered it by dropping forward as Leith's blade came at him. Holding his sword straight out, the tip cut into Leith's chest along the side and caused him to topple off. Glenn reined hard and turned his horse around, then made his way to his opponent, still on the ground writing in agony.

With death as his mentor, Glenn rode over Leith's body and trampled him under the pounding hooves. He turned to make sure he had done what he needed to do and saw the grey matter and blood spilling from Leith's crushed skull. Turning once more, he looked for MacRae who was nearing the woods and rode hard to get to him.

Garreth rode past Leith's body and knew Glenn had no fear of his own death, only the satisfaction of spilling MacRae's lifeblood. He looked up and saw Glenn riding hard towards MacRae, hell-bent on ending the life that ended his kin's. MacRae saw him coming again and ordered three men to fend him off.

The riders came at Glenn, who never deviated from his goal and continued towards MacRae. Closing the distance, they fanned out to cut off his attack and end his threat. With less than fifty feet to go, arrows suddenly whistled from the edge of the woods and dropped the three from their mounts, their bodies tumbling wildly when they hit the ground. Glenn quickly glanced in the direction they came from and saw Glendon and soon many more appear from undercover of the bushes.

MacRae and Rennie spotted them as well and quickly retreated the other way, but before his men could escape, arrows were streaming towards them and dropped four more men. MacRae felt the tug of an arrow pull at his tunic and knew the woods held no refuge of escape. Glenn nodded to the clansmen and held his sword high to them, as they cheered him on to victory. Garreth was closing on Glenn and held his sword high to the MacDonald's now entering the field of battle. 

Unheard above the clashing steel and screams, the thundering rumble of a thousand horses was echoing out of Glen Sheil. Gillie made his way to the top of the rise and saw the banners being flown at the front of the procession. The royal emblem meant only one thing to him, certain death for every single clansmen, if they were here to support the Earl of Huntly and James MacRae. He watched them come out of the glen and round the turn, then went back to Griffin and the wounded, telling them who it was. They shared a certainty in their eyes, that before the day's end, they could well be the last of their clans. 

Glenn cut back the other way, following MacRae with focused intent, while Garreth slowed and directed the men where to attack from. Seeing Glenn close in on MacRae alone, he tore off as fast as his horse could ride, knowing his friend was riding into danger. He watched in suspended anticipation, as Glenn neared MacRae and raised his sword to strike. Unknown to him, Leith had made it away from the ambush and was gaining on Glenn. Despite the closeness, there was nothing Garreth could do, but watch, as his friend was about to end his misery and kill the cause of it. 

Glenn's sword began swinging forward, then it suddenly dropped from his hand. Garreth tried to understand the cause and then noticed the flash of metal sticking out of Glenn's back. Despite the agonizing pain, he continued to go for MacRae and made it to his side, jumping from his horse and tackling James to the ground. The impact drove the dirk in deeper, bringing an end to Glenn's quest for vengeance, as the blade sliced through his heart and ended his life. Before MacRae tried to escape, he looked down at the vanquished highlander and drove his sword into the dead man's chest and spat on him. A MacRae rode up and offered his hand to assist James onto the back of his horse, but Garreth had closed the distance and his sword ended any chance of rescue, as the razor edge sliced through the rider's neck and lopped his head off. MacRae was visually shaken at seeing his clansman's blood pour from the severed arteries over him, then held onto the dead man's hand and pulled him from his mount. He looked for a moment at the blood pouring from the headless body and never saw Garreth turning and coming for him.

Before he could react, Garreth was flying off his horse and diving onto him, taking him to the ground. Quickly MacRae recovered and stood with his sword at the ready, as Garreth stopped tumbling and got his feet under him again. MacRae was on the move to attack, before Garreth could take a stance in defence and swung his sword wildly to fend him off. MacRae used it to his advantage and delayed his swing enough to bring it down over Garreth's gauntlet, not only making him drop his sword, but breaking his wrist.

Garreth felt the pain and knew he couldn't use it anymore, so he pulled his dirk out with his left and faced MacRae. James started to smile, then laugh, knowing he had his enemy where he wanted him, at his mercy. 

Garreth knew it was only a stroke of Fate, whether he would live, or die within the next few moments. Behind MacRae, Kirkland had crept forward closer to the edge and saw a Lochaber axe laying beside a dead soldier. He saw the position Garreth was in and knew it was also his chance to enact his revenge on MacRae. Looking about for anyone who might see him, he crept out, staying low and picked up the axe.

"Ye lose it all now, MacLeod. This castle belongs tae me and my clan and it'll be mine, once I finish ye off."

Garreth looked about for a way to avoid facing certain death, hoping a targe, or some defence he could use to block the sword being raised in attack. He never saw Kirkland running at his top speed towards, MacRae blocking his view of him. The first he knew of him being near, was him screaming at the top of his lungs in a guttural sound of hatred, only a few yards behind MacRae. Hearing that familiar voice, MacRae took only a moment, or two, to realize who it was, but the moment was too late in coming, as the razor-edged point of the axe came through his mid-section in a burst of blood and entrails. 

MacRae tried to turn around and see Kirkland, but the shaft was held tightly in his hands preventing him from doing it. Garreth saw his chance to make sure he was finished and plunged his dirk into MacRae's heart, The look of defeat and certain death washed over MacRae's face, the acceptance of losing his chance to take Donan now certain. His sword fell from his hand, sticking into the ground at his feet, then the life started leaving his body. 

Kirkland felt the weight of death on the shaft, as MacRae could no longer support himself. He let go of the axe and stood watching the last of James MacRae vanish from this world.

Garreth looked at the young man, his eyes wild with rage and still grunting. He walked them into the cover of the woods and saw the look of vengeance being served in the lad's expression.

"He's dead. I killed him, ye saw it. I killed the bastard, MacRae."

"Aye, ye did, lad, ye did. What's yer name?"

Garreth had no idea who he was, whether he was a friend, or foe.

"Kirkland Douglas. My father was Harlan Douglas, chieftain of oor clan."

"I thought ye were allies wi' MacRae? Why did ye kill him?"

"Because of what he done tae me, in front of my clan. He shamed me twice, but I swore he'd ne'er do it again, ne'er. This is what he left me wi' as a reminder of how he wanted tae rule my clan."




Blood of the Clans Ch. 50



Kirkland pulled his tunic up and bared the vivid scars of MacRae's cross, still a dark contrast against his pale skin.

"MacRae did that tae ye, why?"

"He said I was'ne fit tae lead my people. I tried tae kill him twice, both times he bested me wi' his snee. I swore vengeance on him fer this and I ha'e it now."

"Ye ha'e it, young Douglas. Let yer heart know the deed is done."

"Who are ye?"

"Laird Garreth MacLeod, I owe ye my deepest gratitude, fer saving my life. I ha'e no quarrels wi' the Douglas clan. I know ye's only want lands of yer own, like many do. I can'ne fault ye's fer wanting that."

The thunderous sounds of hooves came echoing louder and clearer, as the royal troops made it into the clearing and began surrounding the entire battle scene. Men saw the banners and armoured cavalry, the fighting lessening in intensity, as they became surrounded and outnumbered. The Royal Envoy stayed at the rear, waiting until all fighting had stopped under order and control of the scene was theirs. Bloodied and battered men stood in silence, waiting for the commands to be spoken. Some went to those in need of aid, but arms were laid down equally, no side feeling they had an advantage in the situation.

The envoy rode forward with four, heavily armed men at each side of him and asked for all heads of the clans to present themselves before him. Garreth walked Kirkland over with him, picking up his sword as he passed, while Grayson came from the fray, bloodied with his own blood and that of many other men's blood. He sheathed his sword and slung his battered targe over his shoulder and stood beside Garreth.

"Is there a head fer the clan MacRae?"

Liam MacRae looked about for his father, or Leith, but couldn't see them anywhere. He knew he was after his brother for control, so he came forward and stood apart from the others.

"I am Liam MacRae, son of James."

The envoy looked at them all, the sight of battle on them, hard to digest and made his announcement.

"It is my duty as the King's Envoy, tae take command of this castle and the lands beholding tae it, in his name. All fighting is tae cease immediately, by order of his Majesty, James the sixth of Scotland. Any one who disobeys these orders, will find a swift and severe penalty fer breaking them. Is this understood, by all? A show of ascent is needed."

They all agreed to abide with what was about to be ordered of them. The envoy looked at them and then at the scene of mayhem and massacre.

"I will take rest in Eilean Donan. Ha'e the men inside come out and join those here, now. See tae the wounded first and when yer cleaned up, I wish tae see the leaders only in the hall, understood."

"Aye, yer understood."

Grayson's size and still present fierceness, in conjunction with the quantities of blood on him, made the envoy sit back in reaction, as he turned to go to his men. Garreth gave the envoy a long, studious look and then bowed his head only slightly, before he went to his men. 

Three rowboats scraped up onto the shore, far down from where the battle was, but many of those stationed in the woods as archers and back up, recognized Lady Arabella and Lady Therese walking towards them with a royal figure and high ranking officers, as well as banner carriers and armed soldiers carrying muskets. 

The envoy led the way past the fray and on towards the castle, slowing down again, as he noticed the entourage approaching from the other direction. He motioned for a halt and approached with his honour guard only. He pulled up a dozen feet in front of them and halted their progress to the bridge. He recognized the royal banner and then Princess Margret, bowing to her, then to Arabella and Therese. His guards followed suit, showing respect to their positions.

"Yer Highness, why are ye here? How are the French involved in this battle?"

"Graham Kingsland, how nice to see you again. I would find it better suited, if we continue our greetings inside, where we can sit and be comfortable."

"Yes, your Highness. I'll secure the castle and make it ready. Guards, go back and ha'e the men ready the castle. See that all arms are put down and ha'e the men prepare the hall fer our arrival."

The guards turned quickly and went to the others awaiting them. In seconds, they were all riding up to the bridge. The burnt corpses on the bridge were enough to halt the progress of the guards to the castle gate, their horse shying away from them. As they waited on the bridge, the two clansmen below had no idea the battle had ended and struck the flint close to the fuses, setting them alight. The fuses burned their way up the stone supports and caught the oil almost at the same time. The flames roared up over eight feet high and began racing down the bridge towards the royal guards. The first four riders were caught in it, unable to turn around, their clothing catching fire, as well as the horse blankets. The others panicked and turned as fast as the mayhem would allow and rode back off, some on fire, some only smouldering with smoke. The horrific screams of the men burning to death, as well as the horses, silenced the scene's mood of peace and began the guards calling for retaliation. 

Men from the castle came out to the bridge and called to the men below to cease lighting charges. The two men came out, their fear trapped on their faces, as they looked at their clansmen, then at the dozens of bows aimed at them. They looked at the ebbing flames from the oil and the charred remains of guards and horses.

"Halt, lower yer weapons. Those men were acting under my orders and were waiting fer the enemy tae cross, tae set light tae it. My duty is tae defend this castle from all attackers and they were'ne gi'en the order tae cease. It's my fault, if anyone's, yer men are dead, no them."

"We are the King's guard, escorting the Royal Envoy. Ye'll lay down yer arms and leave the castle, those are my orders. Any who resist, are tae be severely punished, or die."

Garreth was running towards the castle, the moment he saw the oil go up in flames. Grayson was right behind him, as they raced through the mass of bloodied men, towards the rising conflict.

The envoy, as well as the entourage made their way as quickly as possible to the bridge area. Garreth and Grayson arrived just after them and called out to Peadair to lay down their arms and exit the castle. Peadair gave the order to stand down and leave the castle to several men, who ran about the grounds and rooms, relaying the order to the others. The gates opened in minutes and unarmed clansmen came out and stood on the grounds around the castle, their way across the bridge still blocked by fire and burnt corpses. 

"Ha'e yer men clear away the bodies of the dead, intae the castle. Dispose of the horses as ye see fit." the envoy's voice a mix of outrage and disgust.

Grayson looked at the envoy and knew not to argue, the fault for everything beginning with his plans to use flaming oil in the first place. He had men get buckets to douse the flames and stretchers for the dead men. He thought of what Lady Anne had said about it being too barbaric, as the smoke rose from the bodies and had to silently agree with her. Moments after the water hit the burnt flesh, the stench permeated the air, sickening many close by. The women held handkerchiefs to their faces, to fend off the vile smell and moved upwind from the scene, along with everyone else behind them. 

Stretchers were brought out and the dead were laid out on them, the men trying not to let the horror take hold of them, as they carried them back into the castle and laid out of sight in the shade along the wall, then covered. Ropes were brought out and tied to the hind hooves of the horses and dragged by a dozen men on each one, taking them off the bridge and out onto the open ground. More buckets of water were brought and washed down the bridge, straw brooms sweeping the foul water down the drain holes. Once the bridge was readied, the guards formed a line to the castle, for the envoy and entourage to enter. Once all principle parties were inside, the gates were closed and the guards took their positions and ordered the clansmen off the castle grounds and back on the mainland. 

Once all of them were across, they posted guards at the bridge's entrance and held weapons at the ready towards the clansmen. 

With the battle over, wounded were treated and the dead collected, sorted out in clans for recognition. The number of dead appeared equal for the allied clans of the MacDonald's, but less than half the numbers sustained by MacRae's allegiance. Most of the English soldiers were gone, as well as the MacDougall's. The Douglas' had suffered many losses, but not near as many as the rest. Kirkland stood with his clan, feeling his place among them and knew they accepted him as a leader. 

His ability to travel to Donan and remain undetected, astounded the men. He showed them the amulet that the witch had given him and told them of the charms she had blessed him with. His killing of MacRae had raised his status of bravery, despite his youth. He told them of what Garreth had said to him, before leaving to the castle and how lands would be made for them, if they agreed to be a peaceful clan. His men weighed out their position, knowing that any ties with MacRae, would result in a loss for them, if they wanted to side with them still. A concurrence was made, to await the decision of the envoy and see what they would be offered by him, or Garreth. 

The hall was filled and seats were taken by rank and position. Drink was brought and served, as the envoy prepared to take command of the meeting. 

"I have been sent here by his Majesty, King James, tae quell this uprising and bring an end tae the feuding between ye. Word has been sent tae the King, explaining the situation by the Earl of Huntly and his Majesty has ordered I intervene on his behalf. I know the MacDonnell's, kin of the MacDonald's, ha'e resided here fer o'er two hundred year, taking it away from the MacRae's o'er a dispute of debt. I ha'e in my possession, a charter titling this castle and the lands surrounding it, tae the MacKenzie's. They had rightful possession and ha'e made the MacRae's their Stewards of the Castle, in their stead. No charter of possession is held by the MacDonnell's, that has been produced, but if one can be presented, I will suspend judgement. If none can be made present, I must follow his Majesty's rule and gi'e possession tae the MacRae's."

Grayson rose in fury, hearing Lady Anne and the MacDonnell's were going to lose the castle and lands. Guards reacted quickly and spears were pointed at him, before he backed away from the table and put his hand on his sword.

"Ye ha'e no choice in the matter, MacDonald. This is the King's land and his rule. Charters must be presented tae show ownership of castle and lands, if not, they come under the King's discretion tae award them tae a rightful owner."

"Yer Lordship, if I may."

"Yes, yer Highness, what is it?"

Margret looked at Kingsland and sized him up in her mind, before speaking. Kingsland saw the look and felt unsure of himself.

"You say the MacRae's were in dispute with the MacDonald clan, they owed a debt?"

"Yes, yer Highness, that is correct."

"Was this debt ever resolved?"

"Not that I'm aware of, yer Highness, but the fact remains, the charter gi'es them entitlement."

"Isn't that entitlement forfeit, if they owe a debt to someone?"

"If I may, yer Highness." Garreth intervened at that point.

"The debt in question, was wi' the MacKenzie's. My clan, as well as the MacDonald clan, ha'e a long standing debt of blood and money, wi' the MacKenzie's. My father died because of them, Grayson and Arabella lost uncles and kin. We caught the MacKenzie's stealing our cattle and horses and wanted payment fer them."

"When was this crime committed?" Kingsland became more interested in the claim Garreth presented. He knew the highlands were rife with theft by one clan, or another and debts were sometimes settled with forfeiture of castle and lands. 

"O'er two hundred year ago. Hamish the Elder, laid siege tae the castle and forced the MacRae's tae pay their former owners debts, or leave the castle. They left after a small amount of fighting and returned a year later, wi' more men and tried tae take it back. They lost that battle and were driven from the lands, by my clan and the MacDonald's. The dispute has ne'er been settled, so the castle has been in MacDonnell's possession e'er since. All clans consider the debt settled wi' the MacKenzie's now. The MacRae's can'ne be Stewards of a castle, that the MacKenzie's owed tae us in debt."

Kingsland looked at Garreth, then to the faces of the others, focused completely on him and what he said. He knew tensions were at a critical point and didn't want any further bloodshed. 

"If ye can understand my position, Laird MacLeod, the King recognizes this charter, whereas, I see the dispute and the forfeiture in favour of settlement. I feel it is my duty, tae carry out his orders as requested." he quickly held his hand up, as everyone wanted to voice their concerns. "Furthermore, I will bring this matter before him and let him make a decision on it, based on the evidence of debt."

"Monsieur Kingsland, une moment." Margret said in a gentle manner, as she rose.

The room hushed and eyes turned to Margret, her soft voice still powerful enough to command their attention.

"Yes, yer Highness?"

"If I may add, the French Empire is most friendly with the Scottish king and its people, yes?" her smile warm and friendly.

"Yes, yer Highness, we are on good terms wi' each other."

"I would like it to remain so. I am sure his Majesty, James, would as well, correct?"

"Yes, he would, yer Highness." Kingsland knew she was proposing an ultimatum.

"I am sure he would be most upset, to know that some of his people, that I am most fond of, have been treated unfairly by him."Margret's words, however gently spoken, left an impression in every person's head. 

When Margret sat and smiled at Kingsland, eyes turned to him and awaited his response. He felt the weight of each stare and knew to choose his words carefully.

"I'm sure his Majesty would be very upset tae know that, yer Highness. I'll make yer wishes known tae him. However, the issue of the charter hasn't been resolved by him and he must take both matters now, intae question. I, of course ha'e no authority tae make a decision, so I must do what I came tae do and that's resolve this dispute and hand the castle o'er to the rightful owners. Who that is, is up tae the king tae decide, not me."

Margret continued smiling, as her eyes bore into his.

"Just make sure he knows who right ones are. I know that there are many issues regarding improvements to the lands and the castle that are already being discussed. There is more to this than just handing over a castle to someone. Lives of many people have been lost, Laird Hamish and his son, most notably. Many more lives of families and clans living here, will be killed, or thrown off their lands. I would suggest that you discuss this with James, in no uncertain terms, that he hear from each of these people, what he needs to know."

Kingsland knew he was out of ways to enforce the order he was given and ride away. He looked at each of the faces focused on him, seeing the determination to have their way in this and had to cede to the pressure. 

"I will make this recommendation then. Tae resolve the fighting, the MacDonnell's will remain as holders, not owners, of Donan. All clans are tae disband and go back tae their lands. The MacRae's can hold the grounds at the head of Duich, this side of the Kintails and the Strath. There will be no warring between anyone. There is more than enough game tae hunt and fresh water there, as well as wild roots tae harvest. Shelters can be made tae live in, there's good muck and stone there, reeds tae make thatch. I will leave a troop here tae watch o'er everything and make sure what is set out, is adhered tae. I will return and address this wi' his Majesty and ha'e word sent tae each head tae attend at his order. All evidence ye ha'e of yer claim tae support it, will go good in yer steads."

"I find that an amenable decision, Graham."

"Thank ye, yer Highness. I must ask of ye again though, how is it ye come tae be involved in all of this?"

"I was asked by Lady Therese for her aid in protecting this castle we sit in, Graham. It seems the attacking forces were more inclined to want it demolished. Other than removing the threat to the castle, we have not been involved in any of the fighting."

"How did yer Highness remove the threat?"

"That was simple, Graham. We sunk their ships and blew up their cannons, when they fired upon us. We never had a chance to propose a truce with them and stop the battle, so defending ourselves and the castle was our only objective. When the clans were at war on land, we made no interference with them, as God would decide who was to win."

"Thank ye, yer Highness. Lady Therese, may I ask ye, why do ye want tae save the castle?"

Therese took Garreth's hand in hers and kissed it, then turned back to Graham Kingsland.

"I am the wife of Laird Garreth MacLeod. My husband was called upon to give aid in this conflict and as his wife, it was my duty to help him in any way I could. Her Highness was coming to my rescue, after being kidnapped by the Earl of Huntly. His men came to France and beat me unconscious, then sailed me back to Scotland. It was Sorley Boy MacDonnell who rescued me from the Earl's men and sailed me to Tioram and the MacDonald's."

Kingsland looked shocked with disbelief, hearing Therese recount her ordeal. He waited until she was finished and offered his own apologies to her, then thanked Sorley for his efforts, not knowing the outcome of the two lieutenants who committed the act.  

While most sat in a more relaxed manner, one man was still seething with madness. Liam MacRae got up hastily and left the table abruptly, then realized his place and stopped, turning around slowly. He bowed quickly, his eyes filled with anger and hatred, as he looked at Grayson and Garreth, then spun on his heel and left the hall. Grayson turned to Kingsland and talked solemnly in whispered words.

"I fear a peace between us all will be easier tae write, than carry out, my Lord. I will abide by yer conditions and await counsel wi' the king. I will make sure my clans don'ne attack or interfere wi' the MacRae's, while they settle there. Should the peace be broken and blood spilled, it'll be at a MacRae's hand that it happened. If it does, my clans won't stop, until every last MacRae is dead."

Kingsland looked at Grayson and saw the truth of his words. He looked back at the door that Liam had left through and thought things over with considerably more dread than he had previously. 

"I am pleased tae know ye will abide my orders, MacDonald, as well as yer's, MacLeod. I'll talk tae young MacRae and make sure he understands my orders and what's at stake here."

Despite the sounds of pain and agony wafting into the hall, the principal members sat peacefully and drank wine, as they discussed issues of importance. Outside the doors, wounded men in every state were being attended to by those able to provide some level of medical attention. Despite their best efforts, many succumbed to their wounds, be it blood loss, or massive damage to their bodies. 

Amputations were conducted hastily, to remove arms and legs that were beyond repair and prevent gangrene from setting in. The bodies of the dead, were laid out on the ground and covered, to prevent the flies from feasting on their corpses. Men wailed in agony of their injuries, as gashes were sewn shut and poultices applied to ward off infection. Whisky was handed out liberally to aid in deadening the pain and no man, friend or foe, was denied its comfort. 




Blood of the Clans Ch. 50



Liam walked in determined strides, looking for his people amongst the mass of clansmen wandering the battleground. Hatred and rage filled every breath that he took, as he looked at his own clansmen laying lifeless in rows, more being added, as the dead were sorted out. He looked about at the carnage and knew somewhere on this field of death, lay his father and brothers. Turning, he saw two men carrying a body from the far side of the field and recognized his father's clothing. He broke into a run towards them, his heart filling with grief on each step as he approached. He halted the men and had them lay his father on the ground, as he knelt beside the blood-soaked remains. The massive gash of the Lochaber axe made it clear, he was attacked from behind in a cowardly manner by someone. Unable to contain all his emotions, he looked at the skies and railed at them, releasing what was building inside him. His tears flowed heavily, as he laid a hand on his father's brow and bade him well to the next life with God. 

He finally let the men pick him up again and carry him to where all his clansmen lay. Leith was being carried past him as well and Liam felt the stabbing realization, he was truly the only one left of his line. Eighteen years old and only the second battle he had fought in, he quickly realized though, the folly of his father's actions and what war would bring. Death lay all around him, its stench filling every pore in him, blanketing his soul in despair. 

He looked around at the other men, their own grief of loss showing on their faces and Liam knew his pain was no less than theirs. He fell to his knees and cried out to God for help, knowing he was facing a challenge to his soul and needed his guidance. Some stopped for a moment to look at him, then went back to gathering the last of the dead. 

The anguish of loss and the weight of power resting upon him, Liam prayed with his soul bared, looking for answers.

*********************************

"So, the MacDonnell's lost, or the MacRae's, Uncle Stuart?"

"I wouldn't say they lost, Sean, but the story's no o'er yet. Yer really liking yer history now, aren't ye?"

"No sh..,kidding." Sean glanced sideways at his mom and caught the glare, but looked back at Stuart. "Our guys did all that stuff? All that killing and booby trap stuff, I mean."

"Aye, our elders did that. They did what had tae be done, wi' what they had. Like I said earlier, there was no army or anything, tae go tae battle fer ye. No matter what ye did before, ye picked up what ye had and went intae battle wi' it, most times wi' little or no training. The only thing each and every man did, was pray that they'd be alive and whole by the end of it."

"So, guys my age had to go to battle?"

"Aye, and younger. If ye were big enough tae carry a weapon, ye were big enough tae use it. How do ye feel about doing that? Taking a sword and targe down and sailing towards a thousand men, miles away, that want nothing more than tae see ye dead. Things seem a wee bit more scarier, when ye imagine yerself standing alongside yer clansmen and all those men dashing towards ye, swords and axes ready tae spill yer blood, doesn't it?"

Sean looked at Stuart, imagining himself as any one of the young boys standing on that battleground, watching an advancing army coming towards him, his face showing the realization.

"Aye, not the same as looking at yer screen and pressing a button and killing hundreds of men. No reset button happening back then, son. When ye died, ye died and that was it, most likely very painfully too."

Sean gulped back the lump in his throat and his dad could see the words hit home with him. He looked at his cousin and smiled, nodding his head to let him know he liked how he relayed that message. Stuart winked quickly and looked back at Sean.

"Ye want tae know the finish, what ended up happening?" Stuart's slight lift of his head and raised eyebrows, signalled to Sean it was time to listen again.

"Oh yeah. I am so doing this for my next history project. If I don't get an A on it, I'll be cheated out of it, that's for sure." Sean's enthusiasm in presenting his history made his parents smile a bit more proudly.

"Aye, so the envoy left wi' his troops and left enough men tae watch o'er things, so they did'ne get out of hand again. The French ships, along wi' Margret, Therese, Arabella, Grayson and Garreth aboard, sailed in a convoy wi' birlinns alongside." 

******************************

They sailed south along the Sound of Sleat back towards Loch Moidart, the Captain's quarters in the Ville de Lyon buzzing with talk of one last favour to ask. Margret looked at the pleading faces of Therese and Arabella and weighed them against what was asked of her. Knowing that her people wouldn't be engaged in any fighting, or put in harm's way, she agreed and wine was brought forth. A celebratory toast to friends and allies was made, with Margret ending any more talk of warring and battles. Grayson went on deck and looked for Iain MacLean's birlinn, seeing it several rows back. He signalled to it and received a reply of acknowledgement from them, then raised and crossed his arms to let them know the French had agreed to their idea and they would be sailing past Moidart and on to Loch Linnhe. Iain spread the news amongst his men, resulting in hearty cheers heard by the others.

Sorley sailed back to Ireland with his men and disbanded the forces he came with. Word of their arrival had reached Anne's ears long before the hulls scraped up the gravel shore and they disembarked. Sorley gave orders to store all weapons and stable the horses, before he and Cola made their way across the stone bridge and into the main house, where Anne sat with great expectancy on their word. Anne's face was set with anxiousness, her possession of their seat of power resting on the outcome Sorley was soon to divulge.