Storiesonline.net ------- Surviving by Scotland-the-Brave Copyright© 2007 by Scotland-the-Brave ------- Description: Thrown back in time with no woodsman skills to draw on he needs to use his wits to survive. Codes: Mf ff voy ------- ------- Chapter 1: It's a long way to Inveraray I was excited, looking forward to a complete break from the constant grind of three years at university. My plan was to spend a month walking, camping and chilling-out in the West Highlands. The wilds and majesty of the Scottish Highlands! As far removed from lectures, tutorials, essays and exams as you could possibly get surely. Exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries and revive my 'joie de vivre'. My name is Scott MacDonald and I'm a twenty year old Scotsman whose spent the last fifteen years studying; seven years of primary school; five years of secondary school; and three years of a Business Administration degree at Paisley University. It was no surprise then that I was desperate to break out of the academic bubble and do something different, stretch myself both metaphorically but in particular, physically. I had a love of the West Highlands, the mountains, the lochs, the sheer scale of it all, I found it helped me get the world in perspective. When you're dwarfed by a mountain or left speechless, breathless, at the beauty that nature provides, you can't help but realise your own insignificant place in the great scheme of things. I found that helped me shake things off and stop focussing on me, me, me, and my problems. Just how important could the competitive industry forces model of business guru Michael Porter be when compared to looking up at Ben Cruachan, a 4000 foot high mountain? Exactly, the man's a midget! I smiled to myself at such a stupid thought and the stress of eight hours spent sweating over a paper on that very subject disappeared. Yes! Goodbye scenario planning, goodbye strategy, goodbye competitive advantage, margins, supply and demand. Argyll, lochs, hills and forests here I come! The prospect of a month in the wilds didn't phase me at all. I was physically fit through years of playing competitive football (soccer), most recently for the university team, and I ran/jogged on average about twenty miles a week. I also worked out in the gym two or three times a week so my six foot one frame was reasonably well muscled. I planned my trip thoroughly, spending hours at my computer researching the kind of kit I should take and the area I was going to be walking in. The contrast of the fun I had doing the research, compared to the hard slog of hours of study at the same machine, confirmed for me that this trip was just what I needed. I was going to travel relatively light, a minimum of dried foodstuff (mostly freeze-dried meals), not much spare clothing (underwear and socks) and nothing but what I considered essential. I had plenty of funds so I could buy food at the numerous little villages I would come across using my bankcard. That was balanced by a load of what I would call the typical male fascination with gadgets, toys and what I would call 'kit' as will become clear as this story unfolds. The one thing that gave me pause for concern was the weather. Late May in Scotland means the tail end of the British Spring. It can be beautiful, hot and sunny with the added advantage that it's too early for the dreaded Scottish midge (particularly nasty little flies that swarm and bite unmercifully) to be out and everything looks fresh. But, it can equally be almost like full winter, snow, hail, high winds and storms. The long-range weather forecast suggested it was set fair but I decided I would plan for the worst. My Nevis, 44 litre, rucksack was carefully packed with regard to load and distribution, I'd checked the tent, my trusty Brasher 'Trailmaster' boots were on my feet and I wore my Berghaus, Goretex mountain jacket. I was off. My first stop was Buchanan Bus Station in Glasgow City centre. I thought the load on my back was quite comfortable as I went through the glass doors and queued to purchase a ticket. I knew I wanted the number 926 bus, bound for Campbelltown, but I only wanted to travel as far as Inveraray. I paid for a one-way ticket, as I was less than sure where I would be returning from, most probably it wouldn't be Inveraray. I made my way back out into the main station and identified the correct bus stance for the 926. A single deck coach was already in place with the driver standing at its side, helping passengers stow bigger items of luggage in the compartment under the floor of the bus. I handed over my rucksack and he struggled a little with the weight but finally managed it, giving me a dirty look as he straightened. There was still ten minutes before the bus' scheduled departure time but I boarded anyway and took a seat near the front, pulling my newspaper out of my jacket pocket to pass the time. Before I knew it we were underway, the bus virtually empty. We rolled down Glasgow's Great Western Road, passing through Clydebank. Even though we were still in a built up area, with tenement buildings on both sides of the road, already I could see the Old Kilpatrick hills rising above them as we were beginning to leave Glasgow behind. Dumbarton rock came into view; its castle perched precariously on the summit, guarding the approach to Glasgow along the narrowing River Clyde. Passing through Balloch, I could see the shores of Loch Lomond and the paddle steamer, Maid of the Loch, preparing to take tourists on a trip round the idyllic scenery. Ben Lomond towered up in front of me, framed by a crown of angry looking clouds. I marvelled again that this was barely half an hour by car from Glasgow City centre. The bus followed the shoreline of Loch Lomond, past Luss, until the A82 forked off onto the A83 at Tarbet, stopping briefly at the hotel there to pick up some additional passengers. As the bus swung round a bend in the road I was treated to a view down the length of Loch Long, its shores crowded by the pine trees of the Argyll Forest Park. The wind was whipping up waves and the sunshine reflected brightly, turning the surface golden while at the same time lighting the trees to a vivid, snooker table green. I swear I could smell the pine even inside the bus. We turned up Glen Croe and the bus began to climb the 'rest and be thankful', so named because the climb was up to near one thousand feet. I knew that forty years ago a car couldn't make it up in one go. It was almost a surprise to see how high you had climbed when the top was reached. Swinging through Glen Kinglas, we passed through the little village of Cairndow, crossing a bridge at the head of Glen Fyne and followed the road as it paralleled the shoreline of great Loch Fyne. By now the scenery was getting to me and I was antsy, desperate to get out in the fresh air. We passed the Duke of Argyll's estate, the turreted castle peaking through between the trees, and pulled to a stop at the little harbour in Inveraray. All the buildings: the hotel; bar; visitor's centre; houses etc were whitewashed, and with the sun, loch and hills it was a perfect picture postcard for the Scottish Tourist Board. I retrieved my pack from the luggage compartment, hoisted it onto my back and set off back down the road towards the Duke's estate. It was hot in the direct sunlight and after only a couple of hundred yards I stopped to remove my jacket. There was a caravan/camper park on the Duke's estate and I planned to seek permission to pitch my tent there for tonight, striking out for quieter country early in the morning. It had been a while since I had been to Inveraray and I had forgotten that it boasted the original Loch Fyne Oyster Bar, now only one of twenty or thirty or so in a chain around the UK. I decided I was going to treat myself one last time before having to make do with camp fodder. The trek to the Caravan Park was around a mile and a half and I enjoyed the exercise, my Trailmaster boots feeling very comfortable and the load on my back easily manageable. I asked and gained permission to pitch my tent, scouting out a suitable spot. The site I chose was back under two massive monkey-puzzle trees. I laid my rucksack down and untied the tent from where it was strung along the base rod. It was a Lightwave Ultra Trekking Tent, serious stuff, designed to provide strength and durability at an unbelievably low weight. It had a two-pole tunnel construction, with DAC Featherlite poles. The tent fabric was described as "high-tenacity nylon" and it had a full-length flysheet and reinforced bathtub floor. All-in it weighed only 1.28kg and it went up in only a few minutes. Just my kind of tent! I stowed my pack inside the tent and retraced my steps through the Caravan Park to the main road. Checking my watch I noted it was already after six o'clock. I turned left and walked towards where I knew the oyster bar was; perhaps three miles further down the road. I arrived at the modest single storey restaurant to find that it didn't open until seven o'clock. Glancing at my watch showed I had five minutes until then. I was just about to cross-over the road to sit by the loch-side when the front door opened and an older woman, perhaps in her late sixties, came out, smiling at me. "Och, will ye be wanting a wee bit to eat then laddie?" "I must admit that I am feeling a bit peckish but I see you don't open until seven." "Never bother wae that, come away in and I'll find you a table. Chef is perfectly able to start himself a few minutes early." I followed her into the restaurant and she seated me at a table near the window. The view was delightful - the waters of the loch lapping at the shoreline, the height of Strachur on the far shore, mauve-grey in the setting sunlight. The low sun lit the gathering clouds from below to a beautiful burnished copper and several small fishing boats chugged slowly down-loch towards Inveraray or perhaps beyond to Lochgilphead. I felt as if I didn't have a care in the world. Looking over the menu, my mouth immediately started watering at the possible selection. Choosing the Queen scallops with garlic butter as a starter was easy enough but making up my mind on which main course to go for was far more difficult. There was Glen Fyne prime sirloin and Glen Fyne venison available and I was sorely tempted. In the end I decided that it would be strange to visit a seafood restaurant and not sample the seafood so I opted for 'Bradan Rost' - kiln-roasted salmon, served with a whisky and horseradish sauce. The friendly old woman returned and took my order, complimenting me on my choices and assuring me that I was in for a treat. I ordered a bottle of red wine - a Domaine Comte de la Beaume 2002, Brouilly. My choice of red wine with fish made her raise her eyebrows. "I know it should be white wine to compliment the food, but I much prefer red so I'll risk the wrath of any passing gourmet police if you'll let me indulge myself," I said to her. She smiled at my apparent eccentricity and took my order away into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with my bottle of wine, pulling the cork at the table and pouring a small amount into my glass to allow me to taste it to confirm it was acceptable. I savoured the full-bodied taste of the wine and nodded for her to go ahead and pour. "So what brings you to Argyll laddie?" She enquired, apparently happy to help me pass the time until my food was ready. "I'm treating myself to a month walking round this paradise on earth," I replied, pleased to see her smile widen and reach her eyes. I had obviously said the right thing, here was a woman proud of her country and delighted that someone else agreed with her that there was nowhere else to compare with its beauty. We chatted some more about how I intended to spend my time until I heard the soft tinkling of a bell sound from the kitchen. "That will be your food ready now," she said, rising to go and collect it. She returned and set a wonderfully presented plate of Queen scallops; drizzled with garlic butter, in front of me, telling me she hoped I would enjoy them. The taste and texture of the scallops was indescribable, they simply melted on my tongue and I was thoroughly disappointed when they were all gone. I was almost tempted to order a second portion but managed to resist and instead I asked the woman to compliment the chef on the food when she returned to remove my now empty plate. I gazed out of the window as I waited for my main course, sipping the red wine and watching clouds gathering over the hills. It looked very much like the weather was closing in, the clouds growing increasingly darker. There was a distinct possibility that I would be walking back to the campsite through rain but even that prospect couldn't dampen my spirits. I was brought out of my daydreaming by the appearance of my 'Bradan Rost'. There was a small, kidney shaped dish with a side order of vegetables to go with the salmon and I spooned potatoes, broccoli and carrots onto my plate. The fish crumbled easily under the edge of my fork and I used my knife to cover a portion generously with the whisky and horseradish sauce, bringing it up to my nose to smell the mixture of aromas before popping it into my mouth. I decided the whisky, cream and horseradish worked well together but that they slightly overpowered the fish. Nonetheless it was still very good and I proceeded to polish off everything that had been put in front of me. "I like a man with a good appetite," the old woman said as she cleared my table. "Now, will you be wanting a desert?" I settled instead for some Isle of Arran cheese with biscuits and sat back nibbling and sipping some more of the red wine, pleasantly relaxing as my dinner slowly digested. At last I called for the bill and paid using my card, leaving a generous tip. I thanked the old woman for her hospitality and for the fine meal and headed for the door. "You may as well take this with you," she offered, holding out the red wine bottle, still half-full. I decided that it would serve quite well as a nightcap when I reached the tent and took it from her, thanking her once again. My watch showed that it was just after nine o'clock as I reached the road and began walking back towards the campsite. The sky above me was now quite angry looking, dark grey, almost black in places, and I pulled my jacket closed, zipping it up to fend off the cool wind that had picked up. I had walked barely half a mile when the rain started, huge droplets that would have soaked me in minutes if I wasn't so well wrapped up. My jacket was waterproof, as were my boots so I was unperturbed by the downpour. It wasn't overly cold and I laughed out loud as I found I was even enjoying the rain. How carefree can you get! It took me just under an hour to get back to the tent. I set the half-full bottle of wine to the side and removed my dripping jacket, hanging it up between the tent flap and the flysheet so as not to have it dripping inside the tent. Unzipping the main tent, I backed in and sat down so that my feet were still outside and I could remove my boots without causing a puddle. Reaching behind me I found a plastic bag and put the boots inside it to save them from any further soaking. I grabbed the wine and zipped the tent shut, listening to the drumming of raindrops on the fabric. It was strange to hear the roar of the steady downpour of the rain at odds with the drumming on the tent. I realised that the monkey-puzzle trees above the tent were partly sheltering the tent from the rain but significant drips were still falling from it onto the fabric. I rummaged in the dark to find my maglite torch, flicking it on and preparing my sleeping bag for the night. The sleeping bag was something of a work of art itself. It was a Rab, Summit 900 down sleeping bag, ideally suited to cold weather trekking and mountaineering. It was water resistant, durable and lightweight, able to cope with extreme cold. The bag had a trapezoidal shape to improve comfort and freedom of movement, and a shark's foot toebox. I stripped down to my underwear and tee shirt and slipped into the bag before finding my enamel mug and pouring myself a cup of the red wine. The drumming of the rain on the tent was somehow comforting I thought and I was lying back listening to it and just drifting off when I heard a low rumble of thunder. A few minutes later there was a flash outside of what I guessed must be lightning, closely followed a few seconds later by a louder crack of thunder. I had been taught as a boy that each second between the lightning and the thunder approximated a mile of distance so by counting the seconds you could estimate how close the storm was. I pressed the button on my wristwatch to activate the backlight and waited for the next flash. Four seconds passed before the sound of the thunder came, louder once more. I thought that the storm seemed to be heading towards me and this was confirmed when the distance between the next flash and the thunder was down to only three seconds. I was now starting to become a little concerned about where I had pitched the tent. The monkey-puzzle trees were probably the tallest around and could be a danger if the lightning was close by. After only another minute the lightning and thunder were flashing and cracking absolutely together and it seemed the storm was virtually above my head. Suddenly there was an almighty crack and the tent was fully illuminated by an intense white light. I sat up abruptly, startled despite the fact that I had been following the progress of the storm. I wondered if one of the trees had been struck. The loud crack had set my ears ringing and it took a few moments for my hearing to return to normal. When it did, I was surprised that there was no more thunder, not even the sound of any rain. The storm seemed to have just disappeared in an instant. "Strange," I thought to myself but lay back down and burrowed deeper into my sleeping bag, determined to get a good sleep. The red wine helped and before I knew it I was out like a light. The sound of bird-song and sunlight filtering through the side of the tent woke me the next morning. I pulled my arm out of the sleeping bag to check the time and saw that it was just after seven. I grabbed my fleece and put it on before climbing out of the bag and pulling on my socks and jeans. I looked through my rucksack and snagged my wash bag, unzipping the tent to make my way to the campsite facilities. When I poked my head out of the tent I got the shock of my life. The campsite wasn't there! ------- Chapter 2: What the hell! Trees surrounded the tent. There was no path, no sign of any buildings, no sign of any caravans or campers, in fact no sign of anything manmade other than what I was sitting in. I pulled back into the tent stunned. How could this be? Where had everything gone? I was really struggling to come to terms with this, my mind awash with questions. Eventually I pulled myself together. There were unlikely to be any answers here inside the tent. I stuck my hand outside the tent and grabbed the plastic bag with my boots in it, pulling them on and tying the laces. I climbed out of the flap and stood to look around. I was definitely in the middle of a wood. There were no monkey-puzzle trees and no sign of the campsite at all. The position of the sun gave me some clue as to directions (I hoped!) but I thought it would be a good idea to have something a bit more reliable. I pulled my rucksack out of the tent and rummaged through it looking for the Garmin satnav unit I had brought with me. It was a Garmin Etrex Vista, combining a European basemap with a barometric altimeter and electronic compass, allowing the most precise navigation. Turning it on I was surprised to see the screen power up but only to display a message telling me no signal was being received. I checked the battery and the power indicator light and both were fine. The set was on, had power, but no signal. "Ok, plan B," I thought to myself. A further rummage through my rucksack identified my 'survival' kit in a drawstring bag. I had made this up, half in fun, after reading a few websites when I was researching my trip. The survival kit included a range of things recommended by wilderness experts, including members of the UK's crack special forces regiment, the SAS. One of the items was a compass and magnifying glass, companions to the set of maps I had packed. Standing in front of the tent I had a fair idea of where the path had been and therefore the direction the road should be. I took a bearing on the compass and headed off through the trees. After only a couple of hundred yards I could clearly see water up ahead. A few minutes later I emerged from the treeline and gazed over what seemed clearly to be Loch Fyne. The lofty peak of Strachur was where it was supposed to be, the loch looked as I remembered it but I had not crossed any roads to get to the loch. When I glanced to my right there was no sign of the town of Inveraray either. I slumped down by the loch-side, once more stunned by what was going on around me. I was in danger of hyperventilating and focussed on trying to slow my breathing and calm down. "Fuck!" I said out loud. That about summed things up. I was trying to get my head round what seemed to be happening but was failing badly. "Okay, think, work this out for god's sake," I told myself. "The campsite had gone, the road had gone, even Inveraray had gone. The satnav unit didn't work. But this definitely looks like Loch Fyne so I'm still where I was when I went to sleep last night. What does all that add up to?" I like to think of myself as reasonably smart. I had done well academically through school and university so surely I should be able to come up with an answer to this puzzle? The only thing I cold come up with was that I was still in the same place but somehow I was in a different time. "Too weird," I thought, "that's just too weird." Nonetheless it was the only thing I could come up with. I stood and retraced my steps through the trees towards the tent. I took my time setting up my Snow Peak Titanium Stove. It was advertised as the world's lightest and most compact stove, guaranteed to perform day in day out, and was equipped with auto igniters. The best feature perhaps was that it weighed a mere 87g. I filled my billycan with water from a water bottle and put it on the stove to heat. I sat on a nearby fallen tree and once again tried to figure things out. Each time I ran through all of the facts I arrived at the same conclusion. Somehow the tent and everything in it had been transported through time or perhaps into a different dimension. My eyes were drawn to a flash of colour moving between the trees and, focussing, I saw a pheasant walking along, its iridescent plumage flashing as it passed through patches of sunlight on the forest floor. "Well it seems as if there is wildlife around. Does that mean that there are still people around too?" I wondered. I noticed the water was boiling so I turned off the stove and added the water to one of the freeze-dried ready meals, glancing at my watch to make sure I would know when it was ready. Some minutes later I emptied the meal into the billycan and ate the steaming chicken casserole. For some reason the hot food made me feel better, less panicky, and my head cleared a little. I realised that the remaining freeze-dried food was all I had to survive on until I made contact with whatever civilisation was out there. "What if there is no civilisation anymore?" I decided I needed a plan. My best guess was that if I had been transported through time, then I had gone back in time. I based this on the fact that the road wasn't there and neither was the town. My research had identified that Inveraray was built on its current site around 1750 AD, when the Duke moved the whole town from the opposite side of Loch Fyne. So if my theory about going back in time was right I must be pre-1750 as there was no town in evidence. Neither was there any sign of the Duke's castle, finding room to build it had been the reason for moving the town. My knowledge of Scottish history was pretty good and I knew that Argyll had originally been settled by the Scots centuries ago. Confusingly, the Scots actually came from Ireland and were not native here in this part of the country. Argyll was actually known as Dalriada back then. If I remembered correctly it was only when King Kenneth Mac Alpin had united the indigenous Picts and the Scots that the whole of the land had been re-named Scotland. I paused in my thinking as the realisation of just how brutal life in those times would have been occurred to me. I was suddenly very scared. These guys ran around with huge swords, armies of them, oppressing peasants, raping, murdering and taking everything they wanted by sheer force. I offered up a prayer that I hadn't landed in the middle of those violent times. I knew that the centre of the Kingdom of Dalriada had been at a place called Dunadd, a hill-fort not far from Oban. Despite my fear, humans have an essentially pack mentality and I had an overwhelming need to search for other humans. I finally decided that I should try and find Dunadd as that would be the most likely place to find other people. But, I would travel with extreme caution! Pulling out my maps I saw that the length of Loch Awe was between me and where I wanted to get to. I would need to walk down to the foot of the loch and then back up to where Dunadd should be. In the absence of roads, or even paths, I estimated it would take me perhaps a week at a conservative ten miles per day. As well as potentially having to avoid hordes of savage highlanders, food was going to be an issue I realised. The next priority therefore was to take stock of what I had with me and try to figure out how I was going to feed myself. There were eleven freeze-dried meals and two nearly full bottles of water. I emptied my survival kit out and sorted through it. I had packed a wire saw, Swiss knife, flint and striker, whistle, water purification tablets, candles, safety pins, brass wire, a NATO emergency fishing kit (issued and recommended by both special forces and RAF survival instructors), three disposable cigarette lighters, light anywhere matches, six yards of quality climbing rope and some Tindercard (specially prepared wax card from Scandinavia designed to light BBQ's and campfires). I picked up the Victorinox Swiss Champ knife. It incorporated: Large Blade, small blade, corkscrew, can opener/screw driver, reamer and punch, bottle opener/screwdriver/wire stripper, key ring, tweezers, toothpick, scissors, hook, woodsaw, fish de-scaler/hook/disgorger/ruler, nail file/cleaner/metal file/saw, magnifying glass, chisel, straight pin, and pliers/wire cutters/crimping tool. Quite a toolkit I thought. There were plenty of features on the knife that would be invaluable and some that looked completely redundant. I scratched my head as I looked through this stuff. Some of it I had never used and had no idea how to start - the flint and striker for instance. "I suppose I need to get some tinder and then try and make a spark by striking the flint with the steel," I thought to myself. I picked up the water purification tablets. I wasn't even sure how many to use to make water safe. Turning one over I smiled when I saw the instructions on the wrapping. Next I picked up three small coils of brass wire. These were snares and I had added them to my kit only because they had been on the list given on the website. At the time I had absolutely no thought that I might not only have to use them, but also that using them successfully might mean the difference between surviving and starving. Each wire was looped through an eyelet to almost form a noose and it was obvious how they worked. Once staked out, if an animal ran into it and continued running the noose would tighten and basically garrotte the thing. I shivered a little at the thought. I put everything back into the drawstring bag apart from the knife. I decided that I should keep that handy and attached it to one of my belt loops. My binoculars were the next thing to catch my eye. I picked them up. This was a set of R/E COMPACT ZOOM 8-20 binos. Zoom binoculars were described as being very versatile, allowing long and short distance viewing. The red anti-UV coating was supposed to ensure sharpness, even in hazy conditions. I put them back down, staring sadly at the contents of my rucksack. It seemed pitifully inadequate to survive on. I was fond of reading erotic stories on Storiesonline when at home and there were several authors whose stories I had enjoyed, ironically with the main theme of time travel. Authors such as cmsix, Volentrin and Lazlong had written some great stories but their 'heroes' all had either significant skills, help from some alien life-force or access to lots of modern technology in pre-historic times. Most of these authors were American and so usually had at least one gun to start off with! Looking at what I had to survive on and recognising my complete lack of survival or woodsman skills I felt myself crying with despair. Huge tears rolled down my cheeks and began dropping on the items I had spread on the ground around me. I felt truly helpless. Would I ever see my family and friends again? What had seemed a great adventure as recently as last night had turned quickly into a nightmare. I was just not equipped to survive this. My despair deepened and I felt myself racked with sobs, uncontrollable. Perhaps there is something about crying that helps the mind soothe itself, I don't know, but there must be a reason why your body makes you cry. To my knowledge there was no conscious decision to cry, my body simply decided it needed to and turned on the water works, so perhaps there's a reason for that. In any event, five minutes of sobbing helped enormously and I felt myself regaining some kind of control. "Okay you big baby, get a grip!" I told myself. "Crying isn't gonna cut it boy, you need to make the best of it. Come on!" I looked again at the items I had. Turning things on their head, I tried to see them in a positive light. "Right, the only thing that's different from last night, apart from what time you might be in, is that you need to find food. You've got all the best kit for walking and camping; you just need to show yourself that you're resourceful enough to hunt, catch, and kill enough food to survive on. You're fit and healthy and have a decent brain. Let's put all of that to good use and stop feeling sorry for yourself." I stirred myself, thinking it would be better if I made a start, did something physical. I packed everything into the rucksack and took the tent down. Once the tent was out of the way a patch of grass was revealed, completely out of place and in stark contrast to the rest of the forest floor around me. It seemed that a piece of the caravan park turf had been transported with me. I decided to mark this important spot in some way. Perhaps I could figure out a way of using the same spot to get back to my own time. Taking the otherwise useless satnav unit I placed it in the middle of the little patch of turf and then built a cairn of stones over the top of it. I studied my map and marked as closely as I could where the spot was then, hoisting my rucksack onto my back, I started walking west. Making a start proved to be the right move as I immediately felt more in control of things. My watch told me it was now after eight o'clock in the morning and already it was warming up quite nicely, the sun climbing in the sky. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the air seemed sweeter somehow as I breathed, I fancied that if I was now walking in pre- the industrial revolution Scotland then there were bound to be fewer pollutants around. Birdsong was all around me as I walked through mainly forest for several hours. Around mid morning the ground began to rise quite steeply. The map showed I was skirting a hill called 'Am Buachaille', only just over three hundred feet high. I decided to detour to the summit to see whether the view from that height might be useful. All the stories I had read had emphasised the importance of high ground and I thought it was worth the hike. It took me just over thirty minutes to reach the top and I sat down, swigging water from one of my bottles and letting my breathing calm. I unslung my binos from around my neck and panned farther off to the West. There was a higher hill, over five hundred feet, directly west. My planned route was more south westerly and I could pick out the sunlight glinting off the Douglas Water that I hoped to be able to follow. Beyond that I could pick out the mass of the Eredine forest some fifteen miles distant. The shores of Loch Awe would be on the other side of the forest, not visible from this point. Taking my time I carefully panned over the route I was taking, looking for anything out of the ordinary, particularly for any signs of movement. I spotted a small herd of deer and several species of birds of prey - they looked like a mix of harriers and smaller kestrels - but nothing walking around on two legs. My next goal was to make it to the banks of the Douglas Water in the next couple of hours. I estimated it was only around five miles through lightly wooded country so it should be easily manageable. Once I reached the flat the going was good and I took a sighting on the hill 'An Suidhe' in the distance as being the direction I needed to stick to. I was taking note of the varieties of trees that I passed and when I noticed a stand of birch trees I made for them right away. Something from reading the stories and from my research on the web had suggested that there was a form of lichen that was associated with birch trees that was one of the best forms of tinder around. While I currently had plenty of ways of starting a fire I thought it was best to be prepared for the worst as soon as possible. Reaching the birch trees I spotted patches of the lichen and began to gather it up, soon filling a small plastic bag with a fair amount. Retracing my steps I once more sighted on the hill in the distance and began walking towards the Douglas Water. I heard the water before I saw it, a musical gurgling and tinkling that suggested it was quite fast flowing. Shortly after hearing it the stream came into view through the trees and a few minutes later I stood on its banks. The water was perhaps twenty feet wide, but shallow and was indeed flowing very swiftly. At this point it was passing between several large boulders and the bed was also very rocky. The water was forced between the boulders, increasing its pace and the collision of the water on rock was what gave rise to the noises I had been hearing. Immediately below and to the side of the boulders the water was calmer and crystal clear. I could see several large fish swimming lazily in one of these pools and immediately thought I might try my hand at catching one. Setting down my rucksack I found my NATO fishing kit, already weighted and with a hook attached. I loosened the hook and unwound several yards of line before realising that I didn't have any bait. Putting down the reel I walked over to several rocks that were imbedded in the ground on the banks. Heaving one over I watched numerous insects scurrying around looking for cover. To my knowledge there are no dangerous insects in Scotland so I grabbed as many of the bugs as I could, holding them tightly in my hand and returned to the fishing line. I carefully snagged some kind of centipede and then dropped the remainder of the insects into the water above the fish. My hope was that these would attract the fish and get them interested in the insect that I was now threading onto my hook. Satisfied that the centipede was securely on the hook I dropped my line in roughly the same area I had thrown the other bugs. Almost immediately I felt a strong tug on the line that indicated a fish was biting. Everything I had read about fishing suggested that there was a need to tug firmly to set the hook in the fish' mouth but I had never done this before. Gripping the line I gave it a firm tug upwards and felt the line being pulled from my grip as the fish reacted by trying to swim away. I set myself on the bank and began to reel it in, grinning widely when what looked like a large trout broke the surface and gradually came towards me. As the fish flopped around on the bank I grabbed a nearby stick and thumped it over the head several times. I was immensely pleased with myself. Perhaps this survival stuff wouldn't be as bad as I had thought. My first efforts had succeeded without much trouble and I decided that now was as good a time as any to have lunch. I set up the stove once more and proceeded to gut the fish and remove its head, tail and fins. Cutting it into two fillets, I placed a small amount of water in my billycan and proceeded to poach them. A few minutes on each side and the fish looked cooked to me. I sprinkled some of the seasoning I had on it and tucked in. Perhaps there is something about catching your own food that makes it taste better. Perhaps it was just the fact that I had proven to myself that I was capable of looking after myself, I don't know, but that fish tasted as good as any fish I had ever eaten. The flesh was a pale pink and the fish bones fell away easily. Both fillets were gone in minutes and I licked my lips in appreciation. "Hey, this survival lark might just be fun!" I thought to myself. I spent a few minutes washing my billycan and fork then rolled my trouser legs up and waded out to one of the large boulders. Again, from memory, there was something about taking water from where it was moving quickly rather than sitting stagnant. I topped up my water bottle and dropped in a purification tablet. Then, with more of a spring in my step, I hoisted my pack and turned to face the hill in the distance once more to continue my trek. I had walked no more than half a mile when I was confronted by a half naked, filthy looking savage carrying what looked like a spear. ------- Chapter 3: Contact He ran directly at me and launched the spear, screaming wildly. I threw myself sideways to avoid the weapon, shrugging my rucksack off and bouncing to my feet in one motion. I don't know which of us was the more surprised at the situation, probably me, because he had reacted first. Having now lost his weapon, he seemed to recalculate the odds, turning tail and fleeing back the way he had come. After being attacked with a spear, adrenaline was suddenly coursing through my body and I took off after him, flat-out. As I ran my brain was processing what I had seen. He seemed relatively short, perhaps only five foot four or five. He was wearing a kilt and what I guessed must be a plaid, a sheet of tartan loosely worn over the shoulder and diagonally across the body. His feet were covered with some kind of hide, tied on with what looked like leather thongs. His spear had been metal tipped so that gave me a clue that I was at least in the Iron Age or beyond. It was clear that I was by far the quicker and the gap between us narrowed within seconds. I gathered myself and launched my body at his back, smashing into him and bringing him down hard. Once again I sprang to feet quickly, ready to take him on. "Get up you fuck!" I screamed at him, hopping around, anticipating the fight. "Come on ya bastard! Come on!" He didn't move. I stopped hopping like a maniac and approached him slowly. It was then that I noticed the unnatural angle of his head, turned towards me, the eyes open, staring, unblinking. I fell to my knees and vomited into the grass, sickened by the fact that I had killed another human being. I remained on my hands and knees, retching up the remains of my recently eaten fish and shaking at the enormity of what I had done. It had all happened so fast. One second I was on a high after catching and cooking my fish and starting out once more on my walk, the next I had murdered a man. The adrenaline was rapidly leaving my body and I sat back on my heels, my body shaking with the shock of what had happened. After several minutes I pulled myself together and started to try and come to terms with what I had done. In an unconscious attempt to protect itself, the organism that was I, began to rationalise my actions. "He threw a spear at you. He was trying to kill you, so it was really self-defence. And anyway, you didn't mean to break his neck, you were only stopping him from running, it was an accident." These thoughts ran through my head as I tried to make myself feel better about the death. I forced myself to turn his body over and searched for anything that might help me. Nothing, no jewellery, no sporran. Only his kilt, plaid and what looked like deerskin moccasins. I walked back to recover my rucksack and also recovered his spear. Examining the spear I found the head was moulded to allow the shaft to be fitted more securely. My knowledge suggested this was quite advanced in terms of metal work and might indicate I was late on in the Iron Age or even later. I used the trenching tool from my camping gear to dig out a shallow grave, rolling the body into it and covering it over. I replaced the tool and hoisted my rucksack, forcing myself to start walking again. "That's a great start. I set out looking for civilisation to try and figure out what time I'm in and the first person I meet I kill him. Why did he react the way he did? Fuck!" I reviewed the scene over and over in my head and came to the conclusion that the man had acted out of fright. I was considerably taller and larger than he was and with the rucksack on my back I would have looked even bulkier to him. I suppose my clothes would also have appeared very outlandish to him. Whatever, the combination of things seemed to have made him panic and he had thrown his spear and then run off. My own reaction was just as panicked. The surge of adrenaline brought on by being confronted by somebody and having a spear thrown at me had let loose energy beyond what I had previously experienced. I had been running at an incredible speed when I leapt on him and the combination of speed and my greater bulk had contributed to the force with which he had been driven into the ground. Perhaps he had been in the act of looking over his shoulder when I hit him so that his head was badly positioned when he hit the forest floor. I wasn't sure but I realised I would have to be more careful or risk being caught off-guard again. Within an hour or so I passed between the two hills I had been using as my guide and stood on the edge of what my map suggested was the Eredine Forest. I was far more vigilant and was walking at a much slower pace, almost creeping along. I decided to climb to the top of a hill once more to spy out the lie of the land ahead. Choosing An Suidhe, I made the five hundred-foot ascent, carefully crossing an expanse of loose scree and scrambling over a ring of rocks at the summit. I sat and took a long pull at one of my water bottles, catching my breath from the climb. Turning, I gazed westwards again, taking in the sweep of Loch Awe as it passed horizontally before me. It stretched as far as my eyes could see from Northeast to Southwest but appeared to be relatively narrow, certainly no more than a mile wide and at one point a promontory reduced that even further. According to my map, there should have been a road, the B840, running along this side of the loch and four or five small villages. None of these were evident at all. I put the binos up to my eyes and took a closer look at the area where the loch narrowed. I was sure I could see a stream winding its way from the foot of this hill I was on down to that area. I looked away to the Southwest and even with the binoculars I couldn't see the foot of the loch. That made my mind up. It would be worth it to at least have a closer look at whether I could cross the loch rather than walk round it. I swept the binos across the top of this An Suidhe and it looked as if I could walk round the summit easily enough to try to find the source of the stream. Thereafter it should be a relatively easy job to follow the water to the loch-side. There was the added advantage I thought of keeping to the high ground for a bit longer too. So far I had seen no sign of life other than animals and birds. I found the source of the stream after only twenty minutes walking along the summit and followed its descent down to the forest floor. It was a small stream and fast moving as it made its way into Loch Awe. The descent and trek from the base of the hill to the loch-side were uneventful although I remained extremely cautious. It was still early evening but I decided that I would pitch the tent for the night and then prospect the possibilities for crossing the loch. The tent went up quickly and I dumped my rucksack inside it, keeping the spear and the binoculars with me. The narrowest point was only some two hundred yards or so further along and I estimated the loch was just over three-quarters of a mile wide here. Using the binos I checked the opposite shore to make sure there was a way up the bank. It looked fine. There was plenty of dead wood lying around me and I thought it would be a relatively simple job to lash a raft together using the rope I had with me. A raft would let me push my pack ahead of me, keeping it dry and also help keep me afloat for the long swim. I was a strong swimmer but had never really swum this far before. Satisfied that the attempt looked doable I headed back to the tent. I examined the spear once more and decided the dull head could bear sharpening up and I found my sharpening stone and started trying to hone the thing to two fine edges. It didn't take me long before I could slice through a blade of grass with the blade without applying much downward pressure. It might not be perfect but it was certainly much better and potentially more effective for it. I had noticed some rabbits hopping around a small mound as I followed the stream and I determined that it would be worthwhile trying my skill with the brass wire snares. Following the stream I returned to the spot and watched as half a dozen coneys bolted for their burrows. I had brought three snares and three spare tent pegs and proceeded to peg the snares adjacent to some of the burrows. When I returned to the tent and sat down I admitted to myself that I had been trying to keep busy, to occupy my mind rather than give it time to think about the death of the highlander. When I sat, I felt my body shaking again in reaction. Guilt has an uncanny way of eating you up from the inside, finding your weakest spots and gnawing away at them. Guilt comes from your own conscience and it preys on those things that your subconscious identifies as the most emotionally sensitive. "Who will miss him?" I wondered. "Was he a husband, father, brother? Who will his death affect? Was there a wife, children relying on him? Have I created a widow? Orphans?" I shook my head, realising I was going to get nowhere by beating myself up other than to become increasingly depressed. I would need to toughen up my attitude to things quickly or I was going to have a hard time surviving mentally never mind physically. Whatever time I was in, I knew life must be far harsher and adapting to that was probably going to be crucial. Setting up the stove I boiled some water and forced myself to eat one of the remaining freeze-dried meals, despite the fact that food was the last thing I wanted. I hadn't eaten since the fish at lunchtime and had lost the benefit of that when I had thrown up shortly afterwards. I also made a cup of tea, a great British cure for every problem, and managed to get both it and the meal to stay down. It was still quite light so I thought I would make a start on constructing a raft. Gathering enough fallen wood for a raft proved easy enough but lashing them together to form anything that vaguely resembled a raft proved much trickier. My first couple of attempts ended with a pile of branches that fell apart too easily. Eventually I realised that I had to lash the branches together individually if I was going to achieve a stable platform and after around an hour and a half I at last managed to produce something that held together - the Kontiki it was not. I had strung together two squares of branches with a divider in between to give the raft some height. Hopefully that would keep my stuff out of the water and dry. "That's enough for tonight," I thought, leaving the raft on the shore of the loch. I was suddenly very tired; perhaps the excitement of the day was catching up with me. My heightened state of awareness and alertness must also be taking something out of me and I knew it was time to hit the sack. I decided to try a little trick I had used successfully in the past. If I had a problem I was trying to work out, or if I wanted to wake up at a certain time in the morning, I could repeat the problem or time over and over in my head before I fell asleep and invariably I would wake up in the morning at the right time or with an answer to the problem in my head. I think my unconscious brain was able to remain processing despite the fact I was asleep. This had been really helpful over the years and I thought that I might try and use it now to condition myself to the circumstances I might find myself in. As I crawled into my sleeping bag I began to repeat certain phrases over and over inside my head. "I need to be tougher to survive here. Death is going to be more common here, get used to it. I need to be tougher to survive. Death is common, get used to it. Toughen up or die. Get used to death." With such pleasant thoughts swimming around in my head, I eventually fell asleep. I don't know whether it was because I was so tired or whether my little mind trick was working but I managed a good sleep and woke up feeling refreshed and positive in the morning. So far this trip was proving to be a little manic - I was experiencing extreme highs and lows. Highs over simple things like catching a fish and lows over my complete lack of experience and of course the dead highlander. Everything, every emotion, seemed to be amplified somehow. As I lay there pondering this, a thought came to me. I had been staring idly at the fly-screen netting in the tent and I found myself focussing on it. "I wonder if I could use that? Could I remove it and use it as a fishing net?" Smiling, I realised I was already thinking differently, seeing things from a different perspective, trying to find an angle as to how things could help me survive. Maybe it was my little mind trick working. I hoped so. My watch showed it was six thirty but I could see it was already light outside so I dressed quickly and pulled on my boots. My first job this morning was to check my snares and I walked back towards where I had staked them out. "Fucking yeeessss!" I said out loud, grinning to myself as I could see that two of the snares held quite plump looking rabbits. "Chalk another one up for Scott 'Daniel Boon' MacDonald." Again, the degree of satisfaction seemed out of proportion to the achievement but I wasn't questioning it this time. I had now proven I had two successful methods of providing food for myself and that was very heartening. Loosening the snares from around the rabbit's necks was easy enough and I retrieved all three of the snares, returning to the tent carrying the dead rabbits by their hind legs. I debated with myself what to do with the rabbits and decided to 'dress' them both (at least that's what I thought gutting and skinning them was called) and cook one for breakfast. Walking down to the loch-side, I opened my knife, locking the blade in place and opened up the stomach cavity of the first rabbit. I held my breath as the guts and contents poured out and then continued to cut lengthways to remove all of the internal organs. I'm sure I had read somewhere that the liver and kidneys were very nutritious but I wasn't taking any chances eating them, deciding instead just to keep to the muscle tissue. I cut off the feet and carefully used the knife to start separating the fur from the flesh. Once started it was surprisingly easy to pull the fur off the main part of the rabbit and soon I was hacking off Mr Bunny's head, leaving myself with a carcass and the fur mostly in one piece. Setting the fur to one side, I rinsed the rabbit in the waters of the loch and started on the second one, making short work of that too. Now was the time to test my fire-starting skills I thought. I used my trenching tool to dig out a shallow circle and ringed it with stones from the loch-side. I searched for my bag of birch lichen tinder and set a small mound of it in the centre of 'pit'. Looking round I gathered sticks of various thicknesses and used my knife to strip bark off of some dry branches. I used the flint and steel to strike sparks directly onto the tinder, leaning closely over it to blow on any sparks that seemed to catch. After a couple of minutes trying I managed to ignite the tinder and carefully fed strips of bark onto the flame to begin to build the fire up, adding smaller sticks and eventually some thicker branches. I found myself humming the tune 'Firestarter' by the Prodigy and giggled to myself childishly. There was something immensely satisfying about lighting a fire I found, a definite boy-thing and I realised I had drifted off simply staring into the flames. I roused myself and banked the flames with more of the thicker branches, pleased to see that there was virtually no smoke. I ran a straight-ish stick through one of the rabbits and held the carcass over the flames. It quickly became apparent that this wasn't going to work well so instead I laid the rabbit on the stones and watched as the flesh slowly cooked. While bunny number one was cooking, I wrapped his buddy in the two skins and stored it in a plastic bag. I packed everything else up and struck the tent so I was ready to start once I had eaten. I'd noticed that there wasn't a lot of flesh on the carcasses once gutted and skinned, a lot of the rabbit's bulk made up of its fur. There was virtually no fat but the flesh seemed to be cooking quite quickly. I held the thing in place with my fork and used my knife to cut pieces of flesh off of the bone, inspecting it closely to make sure it was cooked through. The taste was disappointing, a bit like washed-out chicken, quite bland really and I sprinkled salt over it to try and liven it up. By the time I had eaten and cleaned up, being careful to ensure the fire was out, it was almost nine o'clock and I thought it was high time I made my attempt at crossing the loch. I lowered my crude raft into the water and loaded my pack onto it, pleased to confirm the pack remained well above the water. I sat on the shore and pulled off my boots then stripped down to my boxers and loaded everything onto the raft alongside the pack. Wading out into the cold water made me gasp but I pressed on, pushing the raft in front of me until eventually I had to start swimming. The crossing was slow going as pushing the raft meant I couldn't use normal strokes but instead did all of the work kicking with my feet. Part way across I had a daft thought that maybe I should have been concerned about the existence of a monster in the loch, a relative of the famous 'Nessie' in Loch Ness. That made me smile despite the cold and tiredness. Just over an hour in all and I was pulling myself and the raft out onto the shore of the loch, pleased that I had made it without incident. I shook myself and jogged up and down on the spot, trying to dry-off and warm up a little before donning my clothes again. The sun was up and it was giving off some heat so it wasn't too bad and before long I dressed and sat to look at the map and figure out my next steps. My estimate was that it was around two miles from here to the foot of Lock Avich, through mostly woodland. Then a further ten miles from there to Dunadd. If I pushed myself I could probably manage that in one day but that might be the dangerous option. Instead I decided I would continue to go cautiously and make the trip in two days. There was a smaller loch, Loch Scamadale at the foot of Glen Euchar, and I aimed to rest there for tonight before carefully scouting ahead towards Dunadd tomorrow. My mind made up, I picked up my rucksack and began walking, using the spear as a walking stick. I tried to remain alert as I went, anxious to avoid a repeat of yesterday. Looking around myself in the woods there was something nagging me that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It had been there the day before too I knew but it was just out of reach. I tried not to focus on it, trusting my brain to eventually let it surface and a mile or so further on it did. The trees. That's what it was. They were mostly broad-leaf, deciduous trees, not like in my own time where the trees were mainly pine. I wondered how things had changed so dramatically? It was barely after noon when I reached the foot of Loch Avich but I decided to try my hand at a little more fishing. I stuck at it for an hour or so but without success so I boiled some water and ate another of my precious freeze-dried meals. Water was getting low and I knew I would have to fill my bottles again soon, so as I began walking again, I kept me eyes peeled for a likely stream. Turning North after I had skirted the loch, I noticed the trees were thinning and I could see a broad, flat glen opening up in front of me. I had just reached the end of the trees when I heard a piercing whistle and what sounded like a dog barking. Dropping immediately onto my front, I brought the binoculars up and scanned the glen. I quickly spotted movement and focussed in on a man dressed very similarly to the dead highlander but carrying a stick rather than a spear. He was whistling to a dog that was herding a small number of sheep across the glen. A shepherd then. I debated with myself what to do. If I approached him I risked getting the same reaction as yesterday but I was keen to try and get some information. In the end I thought it would be best to keep out of sight and try and pass round the man and his dog. He was walking up the glen, at an angle and I wondered if it would make sense to follow him, after all he must be heading towards something, perhaps a settlement? I wasn't sure just how sensitive the dog's nose would be so again I decided that it would be best to just avoid this character. I lay watching him slowly make his way up the glen until he disappeared. Resuming my journey, I stuck close to the left-hand side of the glen, as far from the direction he had gone as possible. I saw no further sign of life and an hour or so later my path crossed a narrow but swift flowing stream. I stopped and topped up both of my bottles. I knew my purification tablets were going to run out quickly and thought I should perhaps try and gradually get my stomach used to the water without treatment so I broke a tablet and put half in each bottle. A five hundred foot hill, Beinn Chapull, was on my left and a somewhat smaller one, A'Cruach was directly in front of me. My guess was that I only had a couple of miles to go to reach my planned resting-place for the night. I was sitting taking a breather, swigging down some water when movement caught my eye and I looked up to see a huge bird swooping down, legs outstretched, talons gleaming wickedly in the afternoon sun. I quickly swung the binos towards the bird and watched in amazement as it struck something in the grass. The bird was quite clearly a golden eagle, an awesome looking creature with brown, tawny feathers and a splotch of yellowy-gold on its neck. It looked almost a yard long and as it fluttered its wings over its prey the wingspan was enormous. I heard the bird screech a 'twee-o' cry and I looked up to see another, probably its mate, drop down out of the sky. The second bird was smaller and didn't have the same colour on its neck but was also magnificent. I sat; hardly daring to breathe as I watched the pair of fierce birds tear the flesh off of whatever it was the first bird had caught. A few minutes later the larger bird launched itself skyward and I could see the remains of a rabbit clutched in its feet. Moments later the second bird rose to follow and I tracked them both with the binos as the rose effortlessly and flew towards Beinn Chapull. "Magnificent!" I thought. What beautiful but deadly things and the sheer size of them was a shock too. They were huge. I hoped that humans were not part of their diet but didn't think that was likely or I would have heard of it. I followed them until they dropped down onto the hill and then decided I needed to be getting a move on. An hour or so later and I reached Loch Scamadale. I walked westwards along the bank looking for a suitable spot to pitch the tent and found a stream running into the loch. Having running water close by seemed like a good idea and there was a scattering of trees that provided cover too so I decided this was the spot and quickly had the tent up. Once again firewood was in good supply and I gathered what I would need for later. There were no obvious rabbit burrows to help me decide where to set up my snares but after casting around I thought I could detect some little tunnels through the tangled undergrowth slightly further into the trees. These looked as if animals might use them so I carefully staked out some snares along the most likely looking ones. It was still only just after five o'clock so I decided to try some fishing to pass the time. This time I put a bit more thought into it than I had at Loch Avich. I walked back along the loch-side peering into the waters to try and identify fish. At last I spotted three or four largish fish swimming lazily close to the banks. I repeated my previous trick of finding a handful of insects and throwing them in before baiting my hook and tossing that in at roughly the same spot. Quite quickly I felt a tug on the line and I heaved to set the hook and began reeling in. Once again I was rewarded with a fine brown trout for my efforts and I quickly stunned it and gutted the thing before returning to my camp. I prepared a camp fire as before, choosing a site under a smallish tree in the hope that any smoke given off would be dispersed as it rose through the branches overhead. I dug a pit and surrounded it with rocks and used up some more of my precious tinder but this time I used one of the cigarette lighters rather than the flint. Soon I had a good fire going. I used the billycan to poach the fish and laid the second rabbit on the stones to cook too. After eating the wonderfully tasty fish I wrapped the cooked rabbit in a different plastic bag and kept it for tomorrow. It still wasn't quite dark but I thought I would turn-in anyway. That way I would have a full night's rest and still make an early start in the morning. I undressed and crawled into my sleeping bag, satisfied at how the day had gone. I had survived another day! Rabbits caught, water replenished, more fish, avoiding the shepherd and his dog and the memory of the majestic eagles. A good day surely and the prospect of Dunadd tomorrow. I fished out the map to look at the likely route I would follow, trying to guess where settlements might be placed. It was after I had settled on what looked like the most promising route that I expanded my examination of the map and came to a most depressing discovery. I was walking in the wrong direction! I had been heading towards a place called Dunach on the map, thinking that this was just an odd spelling of Dunadd but there, some twenty-five or thirty miles further south was the correct place name, perched on the River Add. I cursed myself for the stupidity of not being able to read a map even to the extent of identifying the correct destination. As a result I had walked some eight to ten miles or so further away than I had been before I had swum Loch Awe. "Ah well, no use crying about it, it's just another day of walking after all," I told myself philosophically. "It's not like you have a deadline to keep to or anything," I smiled to myself at this further sign I was learning to cope better and put the map down, turning off the maglite torch. "Tougher to survive. Death is common. Tougher to survive. Death is common." I repeated to myself again as I fell asleep. It felt as if I had only just dropped off when something roused me. I sat up, straining my ears to identify what was wrong when I heard a woman's scream come loudly out of the night. Hastily I pulled on my jeans and boots and grabbed the spear and binos as I crawled out of the tent. I noticed my fire had all but gone out, only a faint glow left in the middle of the stone ring. Another scream rang out, accompanied this time by a harsher, deeper shout. I ran towards the noise, doubled over and glancing from side to side as I went. There was just enough moonlight to see where I was going and the screams gave me direction. Perhaps about a hundred yards from my camp I dropped to the ground when I saw a fire up ahead. I crawled closer using several trees for cover. Stopping, I raised the binos and focussed in on the scene before me. There were two men, dressed in tartan kilts and plaids but with what looked like linen shirts underneath. One was swigging from a leather flask while the other was kneeling over the prone figure of what must have been a woman given the continued screams. I heard one of the men shout something and thought it sounded like Gaelic for 'bitch', then watched as he backhanded the prone figure and tore the blouse from the front of her chest. "No!" The woman screamed, definitely in Gaelic, but the man laughed and continued to tear her clothes away. The second man tossed the flask aside and began to undress. I noticed him unbuckle a belt that held what looked like a sword and lay it aside before stripping off completely. I had a close-up view of everything that was going on because of the binos and I watched as the naked man pushed his companion aside and prepared to rape the woman. The other laughed loudly again as he too dropped his sword and stripped ready for his turn with the woman. In an oddly detached sort of way I was able to take in that they were of similar height and build to the other humans I had so far encountered - so considerably shorter and less well developed than I was. Curiously I also noticed that they both had very small cocks - now I'm not huge, just over seven inches maybe, but these guys were three inches shorter than I was at least. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the moon and stars. "Okay boy, what are you going to do? It's obvious that she is being raped, are you going to try and help her? But there's two of them and they have swords," I whinged to myself internally. "Oh fuck it, let's get on with it!" I crawled closer and tried to formulate a plan as I did so. I could easily stab one of them in the back with the spear and shorten the odds. For some reason that didn't sound the right thing to do, stab somebody in the back? It just sounded wrong. By now the poor woman was screaming continuously and the first man was on top of her, grinding away. After only a few moments thrusting he grunted and rolled off to lie beside the woman, the second man staggering over to take his place between her legs. "So much for staying power," I thought incongruously given the circumstances. I'd seen enough. Jumping to my feet I ran towards the fire shouting at the men to leave her alone. At first the man lying on his back didn't seem to hear or notice my presence but the other abruptly stopped his planned rape and started crawling over to where the two swords had been dropped. I reckoned he was the most immediate threat and ran towards him. As I closed he stood up, turning and raising his sword. I didn't pause, but ran the spear under his sword arm and into his chest. The spearhead must have gone between two of his ribs because it sunk in deep and his eyes glazed over immediately, his sword dropping from limp fingers. I turned to see what the other guy was up to and only just avoided a whistling sword blade that had been aimed at my neck. I pulled on the spear but it was stuck fast in the other guy's chest so I let it go and dropped to grab the other sword. As my opponent closed in I launched myself at him, holding the sword in front of me with both hands. This completely unorthodox use of the sword caught him unawares and the blade sunk deeply into his stomach. I leapt backwards before he could swing his own blade round to strike me and was relieved when he sank to his knees, the sword strike obviously a fatal one. He rolled to his side and his eyes closed. ------- Chapter 4: A companion I lay back, catching my breath and letting some of the nervous energy drain away. So far I had been in this timeline for two days and I had now killed three men. Yip, my 'death is common' chant was proving very true indeed. I rolled over and stood up, crossing to the woman to see if she needed help. I looked down at her and saw her eyes widen as she took in my size and the jeans and boots I was wearing. She was quite obviously still spooked, probably in shock from the rape and watching both men die. She appeared young, perhaps twenty or so, with dark hair and dark eyes. She was slightly built and her breasts, still bare and on display, were perfectly rounded little apples, slightly upturned towards the peak and with hard nipples on the tips. That was as much as I could tell in this light. I realised I was staring and I turned my head, flushing red as I felt my cock beginning to harden. "Fuck Scott, that's great. She's just been raped and you're staring at her tits as if you're going to take up where those two bozos left off." I knew a fair amount of Gaelic from school where I had passed standard grade. Dredging up my memories of that I tried to haltingly re-assure her that she was safe now and I meant her no harm. I crossed to the piles of clothing the men had discarded and returned to offer her a plaid to cover herself with. What's your name and who were these men?" I asked, speaking slowly as I tried to recall and form the right words in Gaelic. She took a moment to cover herself, sitting up and drawing the plaid tight. She looked at me again, her eyes still wide, tears streaming down her lovely face. "I am Kirsty nic Ian and those were two of my Lords men." She got out at last. Her voice was sweet, the Gaelic lilting and musical when she spoke it, despite the sobs that acted as punctuation. "And just who is your Lord?" I asked. She looked at me fearfully as she replied, "Fergus mac Erc, King of the Scots. My deepest thanks Sir, for coming to my rescue, but I'm afraid when it is discovered you have killed two of his men you will be hunted down and slaughtered." I gulped at this but tried to put on a brave face. "Surely your Lord, this King Fergus, would not kill someone for putting an end to the rape of an innocent lady?" "But I am no Lady, Sir," She sobbed again, "my father is but a lowly farmer and I am but chattel. I tell you that what these two were doing is all too common and not regarded by the high-born as wrong." She began to shiver violently, reaction perhaps fully setting in. I scoured the ground beside the fire and spotted the leather flask. Picking it up, I removed the stopper and held it to my nose. 'Uisge beatha' as it was called in the Gaelic - the water of life, or whisky in English. I handed it to her and told her to take a drink of it. She held the flask to her lips and took a sip, immediately coughing as the fiery spirit caught her throat. She bent her head to her chest as she coughed and held the flask out for me to take. Her coughing subsided and she once more raised her head. The whisky had brought a deep rosy glow to her cheeks and I thought she looked stunning, beautiful beyond any words that I knew. The alcohol seemed to have helped settle her, as there was no more sobbing. These highland lassies are made of stern stuff I thought to myself - 'tougher to survive' right enough. "Well Kirsty, where are you from so that I can get you home?" "My father's steading is near Loch Melfort," she replied "and that is where they took me from this afternoon as I was walking with the cattle. But that is some miles away, through the pass, for these two have ridden some hours since they took me, getting steadily drunker as they boasted what they meant to do with me." I realised she said they had ridden but I hadn't seen any sign of horses. "Where did they leave the horses?" "Yonder, tied to those trees." She said. I wandered over and sure enough there were two horses tethered to some squat trees. The horses had very plain, simple, saddles and rudimentary tack that had been left on. They seemed quite content, grazing on the available grass. I returned to where Kirsty was sitting wrapped in the plaid. "I've found the horses but I think we will have to wait for morning before I can get you home." I told her. That started her sobbing again. "You don't understand Sir, I cannot go home. My Lord in return for the death of his men will surely kill me. Most probably my father will be killed too." She dropped her head into her hands and continued sobbing. I sank to my knees beside her and put my arm around her drawing her to my chest and stroking her hair. "There, there, weesht lassie, I'll not let anyone harm you." I felt her tears on my chest and only then recollected that I had run out of the tent without a shirt. I thought quickly about what to do next. I didn't think Kirsty would be up to walking through the dark back to the tent. I wasn't even sure how she would react to the tent. The best course of action was probably to stay here for the night and to build up this fire. "I need to get some things from my camp," I told her. "I will be back in a few minutes." Her eyes watched me fearfully as I turned and walked back towards my camp. I stooped to pick up my binos on the way and when I reached the tent, I grabbed my pack and sleeping bag and returned to her. She eyed the rucksack and sleeping bag curiously and when I unzipped the bag there was a look of wonder in her eyes. I told her to get in the bag and she nervously slipped inside but wouldn't let me zip it up again. She almost seemed scared that she would be trapped inside. I left her there and walked round the campsite to drag more wood in to feed the fire. Dragging the bodies of the dead men off into the darkness out of the firelight, I worked the spear loose and cleaned the worst of the blood off of it. I pulled on my shirt and fleece and then wrapped myself in the remaining plaid, lying close enough to the fire to feel its warmth. "Good night Kirsty nic Ian." I said to her quietly. "Good night Sir." She replied. I must have tossed and turned every few minutes as the side of me furthest from the fire became cold. I heard a rustle and turned to find Kirsty draping the other plaid over me, smiling but saying nothing. I watched her return to the sleeping bag and couldn't miss her kilt ride up her thighs as she slid in. Her head was bowed but I fancied she was watching me from under hooded eyes and a smile twitched the corners of her mouth as she found me staring at her. I sighed and tried to get to sleep. Some time later I turned again and leaned over to place another couple of branches on the fire. I looked over at her sleeping form and noticed that she had thrown her right arm out of the sleeping bag, pushing the cover off of her chest in the process. Her blouse was still torn asunder and her little breasts were exposed to my gaze. I lay back down on my side, feeling my cock rise to attention once again. "Scott get a grip man!" I chided myself. Turning over to face the other way, I missed the knowing smile that appeared on her face. When I awoke the next morning I was very stiff from lying on the ground. I threw some more wood on the fire and looked over at Kirsty. She was covered up once more but I could see her eyes were open and they were following me as I walked around. I returned to my own camp and struck the tent. Before returning to Kirsty I checked the snares. Two were empty but to my surprise the third held a good-sized pheasant. "Result!" I said out loud as I loosened the snare and grabbed the bird. "Do you know what to do with one of these?" I asked her when I returned. She smiled and nodded, throwing back the sleeping bag and reaching for the pheasant. She realised her breasts were on display again and moved to hold her blouse closed. It seemed to me she didn't try to do so very quickly though and I gulped as I turned away with the sight of her upturned little titties burned on my brain. I grabbed my trenching tool and walked over closer to the loch-side. The ground here was very sandy and I was able to dig two shallow graves reasonably quickly. I dragged the two bodies over to the graves and rolled them in, putting one of the swords and all the other stuff I couldn't use in beside the first body. I covered them over with the sandy soil. Searching through the clothing, I had found several potentially useful items. There were two dirks and two sporrans. Opening the sporrans I found they were empty but I decided they might come in handy anyway. I also found an ornate broach lying on the ground. When I returned to the fire there was a wonderful smell of roasting meat and I could see that Kirsty had plucked the pheasant and had it cooking nicely. Minus the feathers the bird was disappointingly small looking and I rummaged in my pack for the remaining rabbit, setting it close to the fire to warm up. I handed one of the plaids to Kirsty and the broach I had found. Her eyes lit up at the jewellery and she quickly donned the plaid, wearing it over one shoulder and diagonally across her chest and back. She tied it at her waist with a thong that seemed to be attached to it and then pinned the broach on her left breast. I had assumed the broach was somehow connected to securing the plaid and so felt a little stupid when I found it didn't. I tried to copy what she had done and soon had my own plaid on snugly. The thing had a surprising weight to it. I buckled on the swordbelt I had retained and slid the sword into the scabbard. I gave one of the dirks to Kirsty and stuck the other in my rucksack. I pored over the map as we both shared the rabbit and the bird. The pheasant meat had a yellow colour and had strange, thickish membranes between the various muscles that formed the bulk of the meat. But it was tasty. Kirsty squealed out loud when she tasted the rabbit after I had salted it. She was fascinated by the little shaker I had - salt in one end and pepper in the other. My watch told me it was already after nine o'clock and I decided I had put off the inevitable long enough. We doused the fire and I picked up the fully packed rucksack, now with the tent tied onto it once more, and grabbed the spear. We walked towards where the horses were tethered. They looked smaller in the daylight, much smaller than the horses I had seen in my own time. I have never been on a horse and wasn't really sure where to start. My height and long legs proved to be an advantage as I approached the bigger of the two and swung my leg over its back. I had made sure to approach from the side where my sword wouldn't get in the way when I mounted but even so the rucksack and sword made things awkward for someone who had never mounted a horse before. I was up, unsteady and very unsure, but up. Kirsty laughed as she handed me the spear and then vaulted easily onto the back of the other beast. "I see you have ridden before," I said to her. "A little maybe," she smiled back. We set off up Glen Euchar, heading west. I told Kirsty that I intended to try and avoid the pass she had spoken of and head further over towards the coast. We would still come to Loch Melfort but from a slightly different direction. "You need to decide what you're going to do Kirsty." I said. I found it difficult to concentrate on staying on the horse as well as holding a conversation but I struggled on. "I've already decided," she replied, "I need to go with you. There is no other option for me apart from death." I turned to look at her and saw she was serious. We continued to talk as we rode through the glen and out onto the flat land that led to the coast. She was particularly curious about my size, appearance, clothes and gear as well as my dodgy Gaelic and accent. I tried to cover things by explaining that I came from Gleschu (Glasgow in Gaelic) and that things were different there. In return I was shocked to find that she was sixteen years old and, she said, unmarried despite being of age for several years now. Perhaps the grime (there seemed to be little soap in these times), poorer diet and harsh living aged people quicker here. I could have sworn she was twenty. We rode on through the day, not stopping for lunch. I was relieved at this as I knew we had no food other than the remaining freeze-dried meals and I didn't know how she would react to them. Late afternoon saw us skirting a hill that was called Cruach nam Fearna on my map. Kirsty advised that we weren't far from her father's home and that she needed to see him, to explain what had happened and why she needed to leave. We came across a recognisable path, obviously well trod. Kirsty explained this was one of her father's drove roads to some pasture. Soon Loch Melfort came into sight and Kirsty explained that her father's home was just over the next rise. She suggested that she go on ahead alone first, to speak to her father, and I agreed. She slipped lightly from the horse's back and fairly skipped along the path. She seemed far too happy for a girl with death hanging over her head and an imminent separation from her family I thought. I dismounted myself and groaned at the throbbing pain in my butt and inner thighs. Riding was tough and I needed to harden up quickly. I tied the horses to a nearby bush and sat down to rest. Perhaps half an hour later I heard footsteps running along the path and I stood to see a middle-aged man running towards me, Kirsty close behind him. Without pausing he ran up to me and hugged me fiercely. "My daughter has told me of how you saved her Sir, I am forever in your debt." He almost wept. "I could do nothing else Sir, surely anyone would do the same in the circumstances?" He shook his head as if to disagree and then taking my arm he urged me along the track. Kirsty was left to follow behind leading the horses. "I have little Sir, but whatever Ian mac Ian has is yours." I noticed the slight gap between the 'mac' and the 'Ian' and it brought back to my mind that 'mac' actually meant 'son of'. So I was actually Scott, son of Donald, or at least I would have been if born in these times but that custom had died out and my father's name was actually Fergus not Donald. That made me Scott mac Fergus. I told Ian my name and he stopped to look sidelong at me. "You are the son of my Lord the King?" "Hardly," I said, "my father is a different Fergus altogether. We crested the hill and I looked down on a gently sloping vale, sloping right down to the water's edge. Nestled into the hill was a simple, single storey construction. It was fashioned out of stones held together with clay or mud probably and looked no bigger or better than a basic bothy. The roof looked as if it was covered in turves with a hole in the middle through which smoke was rising. There was a pen fashioned also out of stones beside the house, obviously for keeping stock of some description in. Kirsty's father urged me over the threshold of his little house, leaving her to tend to the animals. "You have a strange way about you Scott mac Fergus, and some strange garb and gear. I have to say that you are wrong in your assumption that anyone would have taken the course of action you did. People of our station are considered worthless by the lordly ones and to set yourself against them is to invite death. So once more I thank St Columba that you were there to save my daughter!" The inside of the 'bothy' was cramped and pretty spartan. Ian went behind a curtain and returned with a small hunk of meat and a clay beaker holding some liquid. "Please kindly accept of mac Ian's hospitality?" He said simply. I knew that the offer of meat and drink had been a major thing back in history, the offer and acceptance of hospitality holding great significance. I took the meat and bit off a piece, washing it down with water from the beaker. "I am honoured to accept the hospitality of mac Ian." I returned the meat and beaker and he bit off his own piece and sipped the water. "We have broken fast and thirst together my friend, let us remember it." He bowed and I bowed in return. We heard a 'humph' behind us and turned to see Kirsty standing in the doorway. "Silly men's customs." She said. Her father gave her a stern look. He invited us to stay with him for the night but I suggested that that would be too dangerous if anyone was already looking for us. Mac Ian recognised the wisdom of this and bustled about putting some things in a sack. Kirsty disappeared behind the curtain and returned with a small bundle, probably all of her worldly possessions. Mac Ian thrust the sack into his daughter's hands and hugged her fiercely. Pushing us together he laid his hands on each of our heads, mine proving a bit of a reach for him. He reeled off a blessing in Gaelic, exhorting me to protect his most prized possession, his only daughter. Night was now drawing in and we knew we had to cut the parting short. Mounting up once more we took our last farewells and turned down the trail. Kirsty advised me that she knew of a likely cave where we might pass the night. It was on the coast perhaps three or four miles distant. I was happy that we would be passing through or by the little settlement at the head of the loch in darkness and was satisfied that there was enough light from the moon to keep going until we found Kirsty's cave. It wasn't long before we neared the outskirts of the settlement and Kirtsy whispered a warning to me, taking the lead and turning slightly further Westwards. I could dimly see a ring of perhaps six or so 'houses', similar in size to her father's as we passed in the darkness. Kirsty's sense of direction was unerring and she led us directly to the cave in the moonlight. I told her to hang back while I investigated the cave, dropping my rucksack and pulling out the maglite. The cave was reached along a reasonably wide path and I discovered it was about twenty feet deep and perhaps twelve foot high. There was a slight dogleg not far into the cavemouth and this would help keep out any drafts. I turned off the torch and returned to find Kirsty. She had moved on a little further, tying the horses to some bushes and was now gathering piles of the green springy fern that grew in abundance alongside the path we had followed. I carried my pack into the cave and then walked back towards a bank that was riddled with rabbit holes. I set up four snares before starting to gather wood for a fire. When I returned to the cave I noticed a huge pile of fern already piled high at the furthermost corner. I dumped my wood and went back out for more, passing Kirsty on her way with another huge load of ferns. I thought I had enough wood and was about to sit down to construct the fire when Kirsty suggested I help her gather more fern. Looking at the pile she had already amassed I doubted the wisdom of this but she scolded me and pushed me gently outside. After two further trips each she was at last satisfied and began to spread the ferns evenly over a six-foot area. I left her to it and retrieved the last of my tinder to start a fire. I debated quickly whether I should use the lighter or the flint. The lighter might alarm Kirsty but I was getting tired and decided I had to get the fire going quickly. As a compromise I put my body between Kirsty and the fire and quickly palmed the lighter, firing up the tinder and feeding small twigs on top of it. Soon I had a reasonable blaze going, feeding it with more substantial pieces of wood. I felt Kirsty join me in front of the fire and glanced sideways to look at her. "Christ she is a beauty!" I thought. She was opening the sack her father had given her, revealing a leg of lamb or mutton, some coarse bread and some cheese. We shared some of each enjoying the heat from the fire. When I turned it was to see that Kirsty had laid out a thick mattress of ferns, covered it with her plaid and laid my sleeping bag, unzipped and opened, over the top. I admitted to myself that it looked inviting but suddenly I felt awkward. There was only one bed and Kirsty obviously planned that we would sleep together. I had religiously maintained my practice of brushing my teeth before bed, using water from my bottle. Kirsty looked at me curiously as I did so. She had put on a new blouse at her father's house but she now turned her back to me and shrugged the blouse off of her shoulders, and what pretty shoulders they were I mused. I was captivated as she slipped under the sleeping bag, wriggled around and then deposited her kilt on the floor of the cave, beside the makeshift bed. I gulped at the thought that this beautiful sixteen-year-old was practically naked under the covering. ------- Chapter 5: Dunadd I sat at the fire a while longer, reviewing the past two days and putting off joining the young beauty. I realised I had been very lucky so far. Two men had managed to come within a hundred yards of my camp and if it hadn't been for Kirsty's screams I would have been unaware. I was under no illusions that winning the fight was down more to the fact that they were both drunk and I had taken them by surprise than any prowess I might have. There was much less guilt about the two deaths than there had been with the first. That could be down to the fact that they were intent on raping Kirsty or my little mind trick could be helping me adjust. I didn't know. What I was clear about was that I needed a lot more luck if I was going to survive long enough to learn what I needed to. Kirsty had told me that it was the year of our Lord 872AD and I wasn't sure what the average life expectancy was during that time but it wouldn't be high. Just knowing that my theory about being thrown back in time was correct was somehow re-assuring though. I had some definite reference points, something concrete to hold onto. But I knew my squeamishness about stabbing somebody in the back had meant that the first guy had time to rape Kirsty. It had also meant I had to take on the two of them. In future I would have to get over any sense of behaving honourably and just get on with it. I should have crept up quietly and nailed the bastard between the shoulder blades before he knew I was even there. Toughen up to survive I thought. I was still feeling the effects of the day spent on horseback. My ass and thighs ached terribly and I realised I was very tired too. I was nervous at the prospect of joining Kirsty. I wasn't sure what her expectations were of me but the fact that she had made the bed up the way she had surely meant she expected me to share it with her? Deciding I had put it off long enough I pulled my boots off and stripped down to my boxers. I turned towards the bed and found that she was watching me, a little smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. In the sunlight of morning I had noticed her hair was jet black and that her eyes were a deep brown. I moved over to the bed and draped my plaid over the top of the sleeping bag for additional warmth. Kirsty held the covers up to let me slip in beside her and I gulped as I realised she was completely naked. She had obviously not been wearing any panties, I wasn't even sure they were a common thing in this time. "Scott, are you okay? You're very quiet." She whispered. "I'm fine, really, just tired and really sore from riding all day. Listen Kirsty, I don't know what you expect of me but I will not try to take advantage of your situation. I will do my best to keep us both unharmed until you can return safely to your father." "But Scott, my father gave us his blessing. He knows well the danger that I am in and could see the need for me to leave. The poor of this land need to deal with the harsh realities of life each and every day and my going with you was the only option. So, now I am yours, your woman. Do you not find me attractive?" I was stunned by her revelation and didn't reply right away. Her father had given us his blessing and she was now my woman? What had I got myself into now? The sound of her sobbing brought me back to the moment. She had buried her face into the plaid and was clearly upset. "Kirsty, what's wrong?" I asked. "You don't want me." She sobbed. "When I watched you staring at me last night I was sure you liked me. I knew I would need to leave my father's protection and when you turned over I smiled to myself because I thought that there was a chance I could go with you. Now it is clear I was wrong. I'm sorry, I should have known better. Why would you want me, a lowly farm-maid, not even a virgin?" "Why do you think I don't want you? I'm surprised to be honest. Last night you were raped, I was ashamed that I was looking at you the way I did. Today you seem to be giving yourself to me yet you hardly know me. It's all so sudden and so casual. How can you do that? You don't seem bothered by it at all." She turned her face towards me and there was a fierce look in her eyes. "You know nothing about what I am feeling!" she said harshly. "Last night was not the first time I have been taken by my Lord's men. Nor am I the first or last farm-maid to be taken so. It is a fact of life and we learn to live with it. Women of my station have very few choices. Finding a mate as strong and, and as handsome! (she stuttered slightly but said this last almost breathlessly) as you would normally be beyond my dreams I can assure you. Even highborn women have no choice in who they are given to. The reality for me is that I give myself to you or I will likely die quickly." She looked at me defiantly, as if challenging me to disagree with her. "You might be overestimating your chances of survival being with me," I responded. "In any event, as I have already said, I will try to look after you without the need for you to give yourself to me. You need have no concern that I will take advantage of you." "Scott, I do not know you, you're right but I find you pleasing to my eye, intelligent and sensitive. When you turned away last night I knew there was something different about you. I sensed you can be gentle as well as strong and I knew even then that I wanted to be with you. Can you not find it in your heart to like me a little? Even my Lord's men must have found me a little attractive to have carried me off. Can you not also?" "Ah Kirsty, you are truly beautiful and I didn't realise just how harsh life for you must be. I would be honoured to have you but not because you felt that it was what you needed to do, were obliged to do to survive. Rather I would have it that it was what you wanted to do." "You fool, you are not listening to me. I have already told you I want you. When my father blessed us you became as good as my husband and I am happy about that. We shall grow to be the closer perhaps? For now, I am offering myself to you. Will you refuse me?" She raised her hand, placing her palm on my cheek. In doing so she raised the covers and once more I could see her perfect little breasts. I sucked in my breath and turned my head to lightly kiss her palm. I reached for her, putting my arm around her, my hand behind her head and pulled her face to mine, answering her with a kiss. "I will have you my darling, and consider myself most fortunate." Our second kiss was deeper, more passionate. I kissed each of her lips softly, nipping them between my own lips before letting my tongue trail lightly across them. I tried to press my tongue between hers and she hesitantly opened to allow me in, moaning quietly as I did so. When I drew back she seemed almost disappointed the kiss had ended. "No-one has ever done that to me," she whispered. "Again please Scott, kiss me like that again." I repeated the kiss before moving to kiss and lick down her neck, below her ear. I heard her gasp and continued lower, kissing down the slope of her right breast, licking round the areola and sucking her nipple into my mouth. I suckled gently on her hardening teat and let my hand drop to the other nipple, teasing it to hardness and rubbing across it gently. Kirsty was moaning constantly now and I continued to pay homage to her breasts for some time before she bucked under me and let out a loud cry. It seemed that I had managed to bring her off just by playing with her titties. "Well," I thought, "if that's all it takes to get you off you're in for a treat now." I slid lower, trailing kisses over her stomach and down her abdomen. "What are you doing?" she gasped, "Scott, what are you doing? Ahhhhhhhhhh!" As I licked her hard little clit for the first time she stopped asking her silly questions and responded to what I was doing instead. I felt her hands grip my hair painfully as I continued to lick down her slit. She was leaking juices at an incredible rate and I lapped them up as fast as I could, enjoying the tangy taste of her. I began to concentrate on her clit, lashing it with my tongue and grazing it with my teeth. "Nnnnnnnggggggggg, aaahhhhhhhhhh, nnnnnnnggggggggg." She moaned. I slid two fingers into her, hooking them upward to find that special spot with the rough surface on the walls of her passage. When I located it I began to rub and tap it gently and she reacted by exploding like a rocket on my face. She thrust her crotch into my mouth and pulled my face tightly against her as she screamed her release. "Ooooooohhhhhhhh, Scott, what are you doing to me, I've never aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, aaaahhhhhhhh." She collapsed back onto the makeshift bed and I continued to kiss her little pussy softly for a few moments before pulling myself up beside her. Before I could wipe my face she grabbed me and planted kisses all over it. Pausing at the taste of herself, she put out her tongue and took a tentative lick. "Mmmmmm, I taste good don't I? She asked. "What made you think of doing that Scott, I've never even heard of such a thing. It was truly wonderful." I was impressed at how hotly wired she seemed to be. She had come twice in a matter of minutes and even my limited experience suggested this was very unusual. As she kissed and licked her own juices from my face I felt her hand steal over my chest and down towards where my hard cock was pressing up against the covers. Her fingers found me and wrapped themselves around my shaft. She gasped and sat up quickly, throwing the covers aside. "St Columba save me! Oh Scott, you are a big man I know but, such a mighty staff, it's like to split me in two. It is bigger than two staffs combined. Oh lord, so big, so very big, so very, very big. Bigger than a bull." As she whispered this she was moving closer to my cock, almost as if she was worshipping it. I was immensely pleased by her reaction, my ego inflating rapidly. I felt her kiss the shaft and run her tongue the length of me before she rose, flung one leg over me and lowered herself, holding my cock straight up with her hand. "So big, so big," she continued to moan as the head of my rod pushed into the mouth of her slick pussy. It was probably just as well she was so lubricated because it was an almighty tight squeeze and she was finding it difficult to force me into her. She rose slightly, allowing my cock to slip out a little before lowering herself with greater force, driving an inch or so inside. "Too big, can't get it in, too big," she gasped as she continued to bear down on me. Raising herself once more she managed to gain another inch then stopped, allowing her tight passage to adjust to my size. The feeling of her tight sheath was incredible and every movement created fantastic sensations, particularly on the head of my cock. At last she moved again, realising she was making headway, she once more gave up some of the ground she had made only to drive down again. She repeated this several times, pausing occasionally to continue to adjust to my size but at last she had all of me inside her. "So big Scott, so full, I've never felt anything like this, so big, so good." She began to slowly get into a rhythm, pushing herself up and down on my cock, all the while moaning at how big I was and how full she felt. "Ohhhhhh, I never knew it could feel like this, sooooo good, Scott, sooooo good, so big, so full. Uhhh, uhhhhh, aaaahhhhhhhhh." I had been supporting her by putting my hands at her waist but as she got into her stride I moved my hands up to rub both of her perfect little breasts, letting the nipples graze over my palms. She didn't need any further stimulation perhaps but this seemed to send her over the edge and she moaned loudly as she reached another climax. She slumped onto my chest, exhausted by her efforts and perhaps by her climaxes. I gave her a few moments to catch her breath and then I flipped us both over so that I was over her, my cock still deep inside her. "But, you're still hard!" She gasped. "How? What kind of man-god are you?" I took my weight off of her by raising my upper body, supporting myself with my arms as if I was doing press-ups. I looked down between us and watched as my glistening cock went slowly in and out of her. She looked down too and gasped once more. "So big Scott, it's beautiful, I think I love him, oh St. Columba save me, uggghhhhh, ugghhhh, aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh." She lost her power of speech as I began to increase my pace, getting into a comfortable rhythm and losing myself in the tight, slick sleeve of her pussy, grinding against her clit on each stroke. It wasn't long before she was bucking up to meet me and crying out another orgasm. I stroked through her climax, despite the added tightness her constrictions brought, pistoning in and out and thrilling to hear her continuous moans and mewls of pleasure. At last I felt my own climax approaching and I buried myself deeply within her, feeling my come blast into her four, five times and hearing her scream her fifth orgasm of the night. I lowered myself gently, my cock still hard and inside her as we looked deeply into each other's eyes. I kissed her mouth softly and made my cock twitch within her. "You can't be hard, you spilt your man-seed, I felt it. I thought it was going to come out of my mouth!" I twitched my cock again and then slid it in an out of her a couple of times. "You are still hard! Oh Scott!" "I don't usually stay hard afterwards but I think he likes you too." She complained that she was sore, stretched to the limit by my big staff she said. I gently pulled myself out and rolled off of her, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her softly again. "Thank you," she said, "will it always be like that?" "With you my beautiful Princess, I will try to make it so." "I will be worn out! He is just so big." She dropped her hand to grasp my cock again and fell asleep holding it. I must have dropped off too because the next thing I knew it was morning. My watch showed it was after six o'clock. I smiled as I realised Kirsty still had me in her hand and I felt myself start to harden again. By the time her deep brown eyes fluttered open I was hard as a rock and she gasped at the feel of me in her hand. "Has he been like that all night?" She asked. "I can't blame him, you are so beautiful. I kissed her and freed myself, getting up to face the day. I looked back at her and saw she was wearing a beaming smile. Walking out to the cavemouth I looked at the map and saw that what looked like the far shore of this loch were in fact two islands - Shuna and Luing. This loch was a sea loch, probably what the Norwegians referred to as a fjord. I walked up the path and checked that the horses were okay then went to check my snares. I had no less than four rabbits and I took them down to the waterside and prepared them immediately. Kirsty was impressed with my offering when I returned to the cave. She had been busy herself and was up, dressed and had managed to get the fire blazing again. She quickly sorted through the available wood and soon had erected a little spit over the fire and used that to cook the rabbits, two at a time. While the rabbits cooked we finished off the meat, cheese and bread her father had given us, washing it all down with water from my bottles. Once cooked, the rabbits went into a bag and into my rucksack. I explained to Kirsty what my plan was for the day. I intended to head inland, moving South with the hill Cruach an Eachlaich as my reference point. We would then head along the coast towards Loch Crinan. It looked to me to be about ten or twelve miles and I thought we could manage that easily enough on horseback. I questioned Kirsty about what she knew of the area we would pass through and she said that there were few settlements at all; mostly steadings like her father's. We finished clearing up and climbed the path to mount up and start our journey for the day. The day went quietly enough and we reach the foot of Glen Domhain without seeing another human. We headed more due south now to strike the coast once more and then followed it for several hours. We passed several shepherds tending sheep and two herdsmen driving cattle and the closer we came to Crinan the more activity we saw. I was starting to become nervous and decided that we should turn inland a little to try and find quieter going. In the early afternoon we came to a spot where two waters met. I recognised the possibility that rivers and streams could easily have changed their course over the years but my map suggested that the single waterway that carried on towards the sea was in fact the River Add. We paused at this spot to eat some of the cooked rabbit and refill the water bottles. We followed the Add and came to what looked like a causeway blocking the River's progress and forcing it to turn Westwards. Perhaps the River had always turned at this point and the causeway merely ran close to it. In any event, I thought the causeway made sense as my map suggested that there was a massive expanse of moorland running east towards where Dunadd was situated. The map named it Moine Mhor. We crossed the causeway and made for the Knapdale Forest, turning Westwards once we had entered the trees. The going was slower now but I enjoyed the feel of the forest and the sight of the various game and birds we came across. Mostly I enjoyed the company of the beautiful girl at my side. We broke out of the trees an hour or so later and once more I was left breathless and speechless at the dramatic vista before us. The Sound of Jura! The great island of Jura was directly in front of us but looking Northwest there was a multitude of smaller islands, like tiny jewels in the sea, glinting in the afternoon sun. It almost seemed like a landscape painting it was so perfect, each island a delicate brushstroke emerging from the fantastic blues and greens of the surrounding sea. I turned to Kirsty and saw that she too was drinking in the beauty of it all. "Paradise on earth," I said, "is it 'Tir Na Nog', the mythical Celtic land of eternal youth? Whatever it is, its beauty is the first that has come close to challenging your own my dear. Close but not quite." She edged her horse over to me and threw herself into my arms, kissing me passionately. "You Sir are not only a man-god, staff-beast, I now discover you are an evil flatterer and deceiver of women too!" I held her to me tightly for a moment then let her down onto the ground and dismounted to stand beside her. "'Tis a beautiful sight right enough, putting my own plainness to shame Sir." "Never." I replied. We sat and soaked up the sun, staring out to sea. Some time later I heard a faint chanting sound. I turned towards where it was coming from and thought I could just make out a little speck moving up the Sound. I dug through the rucksack for the binos and put them to my eyes. I dropped them again immediately, turning to look at Kirsty. She was looking at me strangely and I realised she was trying to figure out what the binos were. I had no time to deal with that now. Leaping up I grabbed her hand and told her to help me get the horses out of sight, back within the treeline. Once we had the horses tethered I urged her down and we crawled back to where we had been. Once more I put the binos to my eyes and focussed them out to sea. "Vikings!" I said I felt Kirsty stiffen beside me and I turned, offering her the binoculars. "Hold them to your eyes and look towards that little speck out there." She did so and exclaimed, dropping the binos and looking from them to the speck. "What magic is this?" She asked. "No magic, you will have seen the way water changes the size of things sometimes when you look through it. These work on the same basis, it's called magnification." She held the binos up to her eyes once more and stared out to sea. "You're right!" she spat, "it is Vikings come to kill, rape and pillage our land. A curse on them!" ------- Chapter 6: Raiders! Returning the binos to my own eyes I scrutinised the longboat below me. It was full of men, most of them manning oars but a number in the prow of the boat, gazing forward. I estimated there were about eighty of them, similar in size perhaps to the Scots I had so far come across but looking wider across the shoulder. There were beards everywhere, every one of them had one, and they wore their hair long. I had thought that the horned helmets were probably a fiction of filmmakers but here I could see that is was not as many were in evidence. The men wore leather jerkins and loose fitting trousers. The side of the boat had round shields hanging over it and as I watched I could see a man in the stern beat a drum, presumably to provide a cadence for the stroke of the oars. I kept the binos on them until they were far away to the Northwest. "God help us," I thought, "some of my ancestors look as if they've got trouble heading their way." I questioned Kirsty closely about the habits of the raiders. The last thing I needed was to be caught by a marauding Viking. She explained that they tended to descend on coastal communities, killing the men, taking the women and generally creating havoc and mayhem. They were particularly vicious towards religious communities she explained and their calling card was to leave the severed heads of those killed stuck on poles for all to see. No one was safe apparently and the lordly ones had no luck in tracking them down either. They descended, killed, raped, burned and left before any organised resistance or punitive measures could be affected. Kirsty explained that they had a hosting season - mainly the spring, summer and early autumn - when they were most active. I let all the information sink in and decided to let my subconscious work on what to do about them. Meanwhile I whispered to her that we should back away from the cliff edge and return into the trees. My thoughts about finding somewhere to make a permanent base on the coast were suddenly altered. It would be too dangerous. While there was still light we mounted up and I took a bearing on the compass for the area around a hill on my map called Cruach Lusach. It looked as if a different finger of the sea penetrated into the mainland here, much thinner and perhaps a more likely place for us to find somewhere to set up. The journey took us perhaps an hour and a half and there was still enough sunlight here to investigate the shoreline, quickly finding a cave that was big enough for our needs, its floor thick with sand. We tethered the horses under some trees where there was sufficient grass for them to graze on. I knew next to nothing about caring for horses and wasn't sure whether they needed any particular kind of feed. They seemed okay for the present and I resolved to ask Kirsty - a farm-maid after all - whether they would need special feed at some point. Kirsty was already gathering ferns to make another bed in this new cave and I set to as well, gathering firewood and searching for some birch trees to replenish my store of tinder. I wandered a little further from the cave than I had the previous evening, searching for birch, and I came across a small meadow in the midst of the forest. There were signs that this meadow was a haunt of game, deer perhaps, as there was a worn path running into it towards where a small lochan stood at the other end. I filed this at the back of my head as possibly useful information; perhaps I could come up with a way of bringing down a deer. When I returned to the cave Kirsty had finished picking fern and had already made up a bed as before with her plaid and the sleeping bag. She was excitedly looking through the remaining contents of my rucksack, holding up item after item, peering at them before setting each aside. I dropped the wood and turned to find stones to ring a fire, leaving her to play amongst my stuff like a kid at Christmas. As I was gathering the stones it occurred to me that my anticipation of bedtime was significantly different to the previous evening. My nervousness was gone and instead I was eager for the light to go so that I could cuddle up to my beautiful highlander. I also decided that it was time I had a bath and a shave, Kirsty could use one too and I thought scrubbing each other's back might be an interesting exercise. When I returned to the cave I prepared a fire pit and used some of my new stock of tinder to get a fire going. I suggested the idea of a bath to Kirsty but she didn't seem keen. My changing attitude must have been really developing because in response to her lack of enthusiasm I simply slung her over my shoulder, grabbed my wash bag, marched to the water's edge and dumped her in. "Okay, so it's the caveman approach now!" I laughed to myself. "Move into a cave and adopt the persona!" Kirsty was not amused! I dropped my bag and quickly stripped off, grabbing my shower gel and joining her in the water. She leapt at me, obviously intent on scratching my eyes out but I dropped the gel and caught both of her wrists, managing to hold her off. "Calm down lassie, calm down now." She continued to struggle so I pulled her close and held her as I kissed her. That seemed to calm her struggling a bit and soon she relaxed in my arms, warming to the deep kiss and to my hand now rubbing her breast. The cold water had raised her nipples and I could feel one through her blouse, diamond-like and crying out to be rubbed. I backed us into slightly shallower water, broke off the kiss and turned her so her back was towards me as I sat down. I moved both hands to the front of her blouse, opening it to gain access to her bare breasts while I pushed her hair from her neck with my nose and began to gently kiss her neck. She moaned, no longer trying to escape or attack me but instead helping me to remove her blouse completely. The shower gel fortuitously bumped against my foot and I snagged it, dragging it towards me until it was within reach. Leaning back I let her hair soak in the water before squeezing some gel into my palm and applying it to her hair. It didn't foam up as much as I was used to but there was enough lather to work with so I rubbed handfuls of her hair against each other until it was all covered. I rinsed her hair and then squeezed more gel into my hand, applying it to her neck, face and finally her breasts, working the lather and glorying in the slippery feel of her perfectly formed breasts. By now she was moaning contentedly in my lap. I pushed her forward and applied more gel to her back. Her skin was flawless, smooth but currently covered in goosebumps. Reaching down I tried to loosen her soaking kilt but struggled to do so until she came to my aid, loosening it and throwing it towards the bank. I backed up again until we were barely in the water before rubbing gel over her little patch of pubic hair, working up a lather there too and washing her slit, all the way down to her rosebud. Kirsty began bucking in my lap from this attention and I let my fingers dwell in her slit, my thumb strumming her clit. I kept my stroking up until she climaxed, once more it didn't take long, then let her recover before asking her to stand so I could wash both her legs. What fine legs they were. Not too thick and not too thin, coltish rather and certainly a delight to run my hands over. Rinsing her off I decided that we had been in the cold water long enough. I stood and picked her up, walking back to the shore where I deposited her and stooped to get my plaid, wrapping it round her shivering form. I picked up her clothes and mine and put my arm round her shoulders as we walked back to the cave. Sitting Kirsty in front of the fire, I rung out the worst of the water from her blouse and kilt and used two branches to stretch them out on the other side of the fire to dry. Boiling water in the billycan, I made up one of the freeze-dried meals and fed it to her. She looked at the bag suspiciously and then with amazement when I poured the chicken casserole back into the billy. Her face was a picture as she responded to the first mouthful, her taste buds unused to the rich flavourings in the meal. Nonetheless she obviously enjoyed it and proceeded to wolf the thing down as fast as I could feed it to her. I made do with the last of the rabbit and then cursed myself as I realised I hadn't set any snares. It was dark outside and I knew there was little point in trying now but chided myself to not forget again - it could mean the difference between having food and not having food. When I finished the rabbit I looked at her. Her hair was positively gleaming in the firelight after the wash and removing the grime from her face showed it to be now much more in keeping with her age - she looked fifteen. I reached over and stroked her cheek softly with my fingers. "I can't believe it is possible but you look even more beautiful now. Your hair shines and your skin, your eyes, your lips make me wonder why god blessed you with the very best of his creation only to leave you as a farm-maid. He surely has never fashioned anything to compare to you, nor will he." A tear formed in her eye but she smiled at me. "Flatterer, deceiver." She said quietly. I reached for my washbag and got the small shaving mirror I kept there. I held it up so she could see her hair and face and she gasped, her hand rising to her hair, her fingers running through it. She let her hand trail over her cheek and over her sensuous lips, enthralled by her reflection. I worried that I would create a monster and quickly put the mirror away. "There, you have the evidence of your beauty, I do not expect you to argue the point with me again." I smiled as I said this, my growing love for this young woman surely evident in my eyes. "I'm sorry Scott but I grow tired. Can we go to bed now?" I agreed, a little disappointed that it looked unlikely we would have repeat of the previous evening but content just to lie beside her. We crawled under the sleeping bag and huddled together, spooned - me up against her back, my nose buried in her hair. I felt her little hand drop between us and she took hold of my cock again before falling quickly asleep. I smiled. She almost seemed to do this as a comforter, but hey, who was I to complain! Before falling asleep I rehearsed my usual mental trick, this time adding a few more problems that needed to be dealt with. "Tougher to survive. Death is common. Beat the Vikings. Kill a deer. Tougher to survive, death is common. Beat the Vikings, kill a deer. Tougher to survive, death is common. Beat the Vikings, kill a deer." I fell asleep. I was up early the next morning. At least one of my chants had borne fruit; I had an idea in my head as to how I might kill a deer. Dressing quickly and quietly, I grabbed the climbing rope and left the cave. I stood at the cavemouth and looked northwards. The sun was just high enough to light the forest before me and the morning mist hung in patches making a glorious, ethereal vision. What a way to start the day! I made my way carefully towards the meadow I had come across the night before. Rather than approach it directly I drifted through the trees, trying to judge the direction of the wind. Once I arrived I peered cautiously through the boughs and sure enough, I was right, a small herd of deer was grazing lazily, drifting down towards the water. I moved even more carefully now. Climbing a tree that had a branch overhanging the path and looped the rope over it, securing the end tightly. I shinned back down and formed a large noose, large enough to cover the width of the path. I used a large branch to loosely prop up the small loop the rope ran through so that it didn't drop and then stretched the main expanse of the noose over branches on both sides of the path. Satisfied with my work I made my way back into the trees and made a wide detour to come up to the meadow from the opposite end. I peered through the trees to confirm the deer were still there and then crept closer. Once I was as close as I could get without spooking them I jumped up and ran directly at them, screaming and waving my arms as I did so. The deer scattered before me, rushing headlong to escape. I was elated to see that three headed straight for the path where the noose was set. Continuing to run I prayed silently under my breath, prayed that one of them would snag the noose. All three of the deer passed the point at which I knew the noose was set and nothing happened. And then, perhaps five yards further on, I saw one up them jerked back off of its feet as the noose must have tightened and the rope brought it up short. "Yes, fucking yes!" I screamed as I ran to where the deer now lay, its neck clearly broken. My idea had been based on the small snares I had been using, the same principles, simple as they were. I was elated! Two or three days ago I might have been sickened at killing an animal but now I was elated. Climbing the tree I loosened the rope and dropped down to the ground. I made my way quickly to where the horses were tethered, unhitched one of them and returned to load the deer onto its back. It was short work to lead the horse back to its counterpart and I re-tied it before hoisting the deer onto my shoulders and making my way back to the cave. Kirsty rushed towards me when I entered the cave but came up short when she saw what was on my shoulders. I smiled broadly at her, pleased at my own ingenuity and ability to provide. Slinging the deer to the side of the fire I waited expectantly for the fulsome praise I thought I was due. She surprised me! "Scott, don't ever leave like that again. I thought you had abandoned me! And what foolishness is this? My lord will string you up for taking of the deer. They are his alone and not for the likes of us! Oh I thought I'd lost you, that you'd left me, damn you!" At this point she ran out of steam and burst into tears. I walked over to her and pulled her tight, stroking her hair and murmuring to her. "I'm sorry Kirsty, I only wanted to get to the meadow early. I saw no need to wake you. Quiet now, quiet. Whatever made you think I would abandon you? I could no sooner cut off my own arm lassie. I'm afraid you're stuck with me. I lifted her head and kissed her softly, letting the kiss move from gentleness gradually into passion. She responded eagerly, perhaps a reaction to thinking herself abandoned. I lifted her and carried her to the bed, setting her down and lying beside her. I began to work her blouse off but she took over and shrugged out of it, moaning when I bent to take her nipple into my mouth. When I slid my hand under her kilt I found her highly aroused and already well lubricated. I made as if to drop my head to her pussy but she held my head urgently. "No Scott, not now. Give me your staff, I need to feel it in me, fill me up!" There was a pause while I removed my boots and jeans before I moved into position between her legs and pulled up her kilt. I was already as hard as steel (it went through my head that steel hadn't been developed yet, it's strange what you can think of even at times like these) and I took myself in hand, rubbing my cockhead up and down her slit to cover it in her juices. In doing so I rubbed her clit and she groaned frantically, getting yet more desperate. I lined up and pressed forward, feeling her tightness envelop me. She keened as I gained inch after inch, stretching her, spreading her as I looked to fulfil her wish to fill her up. I pulled back to gather more of her moisture then stroked forward again, pushing further in until at last I was fully seated, my pubic bone grinding against her little nub. Kirsty was almost taking a fit despite the fact that I had barely started, had not as yet begun to stroke into her in earnest. "Scoootttttt!" She cried as she spasmed in orgasm. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnn." I let her settle before beginning to gently slide in and out of her tight, oh so tight channel. Keeping the pace slow, I took full strokes, pulling my cock almost all the way out before sliding it slowly all the way back in. It had the opposite effect to what I expected. She started to climb again almost immediately, the stimulation overcoming her quickly. I began to worry that she was so sensitive that we would never be able to experience what I regarded as 'normal' sex. Still, making a girl come every few minutes does do wonders for the ego so I continued stroking, even picking up the pace a little "Saints preserve me," she groaned, "Scott, he is truly wondrous, your staff is magical my darling. Do not spare me!" It felt as if she was in continuous orgasm as I hit a perfect rhythm. Her legs hooked round me, urging me into her harder and faster, her nails dug deeply into me, even through my fleece. At last I felt my own end approaching and I stepped up the pace once more, feeling the tightness of her sheath grip me and milk the come from me. I drove deep into her and held myself still as my juice fired within her, the expansion of my cockhead as I came almost painful. Kirsty was motionless and quiet under me. I raised myself and looked at her. She appeared to have fainted. I pulled my shrinking cock from her and rolled over beside her, blowing cooling air over her face. After a few moments her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled weakly at me. I kissed her softly, stroking her hair. "Don't ever leave me my wonderful staff-beast," she whispered. "Never princess," I replied, "but I'm worried this 'staff-beast' as you call him is like to be the death of you. Are you always this sensitive?" "Never. Always my lord's men would barely tickle me with their weapons and would complete what they wanted with haste. You are far bigger than they and infinitely more considerate of my needs. If death your staff brings then I will at least die happy. But enough now or your head will grow too big. The day wastes and we must deal with your morning offering." Kirsty showed me how to dress my first deer. Without her I'm sure I would have just blundered in and contaminated the meat. I had perhaps been lucky so far with the rabbits. She asked me to sharpen her dirk and I did so with my sharpening stone. I carried the deer down to the waterside and she told me to turn it on its back, belly up. I watched as she carefully cut the skin along the breastbone all the way down to the deer's ass. Her cut was not deep, but just enough to open up the skin without piercing anything else. "You must break through the bone here and here." She pointed to the deer's chest and pelvis. I took the dirk from her and used brute strength to do so, surprised at how easily I managed it. She took the dirk back and reached her hand inside the deer's chest, and then thrust her other hand in too, clutching the dirk. "I'm cutting its windpipe," she told me. "Roll it onto its side now." I rolled the deer and she proceeded to remove all of the internal organs, cutting where necessary. She was particularly careful not to puncture the stomach and another bag that I assumed was its bladder. "These are full of the most nasty stuff, it's best not to open them." She told me. Once she had removed all of the organs she told me to wash the deer in the water which I did. I sharpened the dirk again and removed the deer's head. We both washed the blood from our hands and I carried the deer back to the cave where she carved off several large steaks before building up the fire, piercing the steaks with sticks and wedging them over the fire to cook. While the steaks cooked I noticed Kirsty's face had become serious once more. I was beginning to realise this spelt trouble. "Scott, what are all the strange objects in your bag? In fact, what is the strange skin the bag is made of? Who made these things like the magnification thing and how do you conjure fire at will?" "Shit, I'm busted. I thought. ------- Chapter 7: For King and country "Are you some kind of druid?" she continued. "How can you produce food from a bag that you fill with water?" I knew there was only one way to answer her questions, besides I was falling for her pretty hard and it was only right that I levelled with her. There was a concern as to how she would react though, how would she feel about sleeping with someone from over eleven hundred years in the future? I was beginning to enjoy what we were building together and I hesitated because of the possibility of destroying it. "No true relationship can be built on lies," I told myself, "but I need to be tougher to survive. Fuck off, you need to tell her, there's nothing tough about lying about this." My internal argument didn't last long and I felt quite virtuous at coming down on the right side. "Kirsty, come sit by me." I waited for her to join me. I could see that she had a worried look, perhaps regretting that she had forced this topic of conversation, concerned at what my answers might hold. "Before I try to answer you, I want to tell you that you already mean a lot to me, I don't want what I'm about to tell you to spoil what we might have together so I have to ask, are you sure you want to know?" She hesitated for a second. I could see a spectrum of emotions painted across her face as she ran through the possibilities, but she eventually settled on needing to know. "Yes, tell me." "Kirsty, this is probably so unbelievable that I can't think of an easy way to start so I'm going to just tell it as it is. I went to sleep five nights ago in the year of our lord two thousand and seven and woke up in the year eight hundred and seventy two." There, I had said it. She looked at me as if I had three heads. I let her try and assimilate what I had told her, get her head round a time traveller from the future, waiting for the wheels to come off completely. Surprisingly, after a few minutes she simply nodded as if to say she knew something fishy was going on. Over the next few hours I tried to convey what my world had been like but how do you explain cars, planes, space travel, modern warfare, medicine, all of that in simple words. Her head was spinning with the information I had given her it was clear. I paused to let her think her own thoughts. "You can do all of these things? You can fly? You can make things 'explode'?" "No. I have been in a plane but I can't fly on my own, no one can do that. I don't know how to make explosives either and I'm not a doctor so I can't heal people. In my time, different people specialise in different things, like you have tanners, farmers, and metalworkers. Each of them doesn't do everything, they stick to what they do best, what they have learned." "What do you do best Scott? No, let me guess, in your time you are a staff merchant? That explains how you pleasure me so well every time, that's what you are isn't it?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Kirsty, in my time the size of my penis is not considered that large, maybe just above average. I think here in your time men are smaller. The attitude towards sex here is also closer to that of animals. I noticed in my time that animals seemed to practice sex mainly for reproduction and a bull or s stud horse was valued for its potency, not how good it was at oral sex or how long it could last. The men here seem to have the same attitude. The quicker they can get on and come, the sooner they can move on to impregnate the next female. The women have to be hypersensitive if they are going to have pleasure in such a short time. No, I'm not a 'staff-merchant' as you call it, I guess I'm what you might know as an apprentice trader. I have studied the trading of goods and how to make money from that." "Are the women in your time pretty?" Well, there you go. It obviously didn't matter what century you were in, women were women and she was now anxious about how she measured up against the competition. Typical! "Kirsty, I have never met anyone as beautiful as you are, probably never will. I think I'm falling in love with you. Not just because you are beautiful but because you are intelligent, you have lots of spirit, you are brave, you must be to have survived multiple rapes and be so well adjusted, to have lived in such harsh circumstances and be unbowed. You're funny and you make me feel special. You have nothing to fear from any other woman, either in 872AD or 2007AD, believe me." She kissed me then, a fire in her eyes. I tried to convey things like democracy, a classless country and especially everyday life in my time but it was difficult. Some of it must have got through to her though I knew when I heard her next comment. "You must have been very frightened when you woke to find all of you world's security gone, all that you relied on, were familiar with?" "Oh you sweet girl," I said, hugging her to me, "you have no idea how scared I have been, how completely inadequate I feel to cope with this time. Killing seems to be so commonplace here, life so cheap, and I do not have the skills to survive. I am not a warrior, I don't even know the language very well!" "You seem to be doing well despite that, and I do like your staff, Sir." She said, lightening the mood a little. "Seriously Scott, I don't care about where you have come from and the things you have done in this other life. What is important is that you are a good man, strong but caring. I don't think I'm falling in love with you, I have known since the first night that I already love you deeply. Will you stay with me? Will you return to your own time?" This was obviously a big thing for her, she really worried that I would abandon her. "I don't know how to get back to my time, but even if I did I wouldn't want to be parted from you princess." We cuddled and she asked me more questions about my time but we were more comfortable with each other now and I was glad that I had opted to tell her everything. I explained that the complexity of many of the things I was used to, the extraction of the raw materials and then the processing of them meant that I was unable to reproduce them in this time. Her questions did start me thinking however. What could I reproduce that would be useful? I let my subconscious run with that. The next few weeks were almost idyllic. Kirsty and I got to know each other better, I told her more about my time and we learned each other's little habits. Each day I also practised with the sword, hacking at a tree trunk, developing motion, thrust, counter-thrust and most especially balance. The repetition was building muscle memory and strength. There were more small triumphs as I caught my first fish, ducks and geese using the netting from the tent. Rabbits continued to be in good supply and Kirsty knew many of the plants that could augment our diet. We also made good use of the shellfish that were available to us, so we ate well. Our sex was just as torrid as it was in the first few days, Kirsty remained hot-wired and worshipped her 'staff-beast'. I had introduced her to the fantastic art of fellatio and she delighted in this new way of showing her love for my cock, indeed, given how hair-triggered she was, it became my normal method of completion. Our love-making usually consisted of me stroking into her, giving her three or four very quick orgasms and then she would finish me off with her gorgeous little lips and mouth, swallowing my offering, savouring it as if it was her favourite meal. I continued to love the taste of her tiny pussy, particularly now that I had introduced her to regular bathing. Some thoughts were beginning to crystallise in my head. I wanted to do something to help my countrymen against the Vikings. I thought some of my knowledge of modern warfare might have some lessons I could transplant into this time. The effectiveness of special forces troops was one, artillery was another - I thought there might be something conceptual about that that could be done with archery or ballista that might be ahead of this time. I had enduring images from TV of beach defences during world war two and I wondered whether I could re-create something similar against these mainly sea-borne raiders. Most of all however I began to realise that the true source of victory was increased trade! And after all, business was my business so to speak; it was what I was trained for. My history lessons reminded me that the production of salt was a huge economic factor in earlier times - could I evaporate seawater to produce salt? Cmsix's stories had suggested soapmaking was relatively easy - this time period could certainly use some of that. And even in my time, Scotland's biggest export was whisky - uisge beatha, the water of life. On top of that, my knowledge of industrial production might provide an advantage over other nation's trading practices. "It is time to take on the Vikings," I said to her one morning. She gasped and looked at me as if I had lost my senses. "Scott, what foolishness is this? You are but one man and they are many, what can you hope to achieve?" "Kirsty, our countrymen are being murdered and raped, I cannot sit by and do nothing. I believe that there are things that I can do that will make a difference and I must at least try or I will hate myself." "What can you do that the lordly ones have not already tried? What can you do differently?" "I believe that there are some things that I can design or train others to do that are not yet common in this time. They might not work but I need to know, need to make the attempt. In the words of a famous battle cry, my country needs me!" She wasn't happy about it but she had grown to rely on me and trust me, following where I led. "If I was to ask you where is the place that has suffered most from these Norsemen, where would it be my love?" She didn't hesitate. "Our sainted Columba's island, 'I Challuim Chille', Iona. It is as though it is an affront to the Norsemen. They raid it constantly and the religious men there have suffered much." I knew that Columba had been a Celtic missionary who had had a major impact on Scotland and the north of England before this time. The early Christian church here had been the Columban church before Roman Catholicism had supplanted it. I knew a little of Iona too, although I had never been there. 'Iona' translated as 'the island', I thought, a bit like the British Open at golf that was just called 'the Open'. The suggestion was that there was no other island to compare, it was first and foremost amongst islands. (see http://www.isle-of-iona.com/). Columba had established a mission on the island and the Kings of Dalriada and eventually Scotland were buried there. So, an important place to my people, time I did something to help defend it from the marauders! It was a big shift to contemplate, moving from this spot we had found but as I had said, I felt the need to do something against the Vikings. I don't know why, perhaps my 'tougher to survive' mind trick was turning me into a bloodthirsty savage! In any event, my mind was made up; all that was left was to identify how I could get us to Iona. Kirsty had reconciled herself to the fact that we would make this journey and suggested that the most logical place to start was at Crinan. She believed that we could find passage on a fishing boat from there to Iona but warned that we would need some form of payment. I figured that we could trade the horses for passage and agreed with Kirsty that we would start out immediately. Packing up was short work as we had little to pack so we were underway within the hour. We had only five miles or so to travel and it took under an hour. Crinan held a number of fisherman's cothouses and a wooden jetty on stilts out onto the water. I approached several men who gave me suspicious looks before advising me who to speak to for my best chance of hitching a ride to Iona. The fisherman who had been pointed out to me agreed that he could take us both to Iona but not for several days. When I suggested he could have the two horses for payment if we left immediately he realised he was winning a prize and acceded to my request. Within the hour we embarked on a smallish boat, the sail unfurled to make the most of the wind. We sailed up the Sound of Jura, avoiding the straight of Corrievrechan. The fisherman explained that it had a treacherous whirlpool in its centre and he instead passed up the Sound of Luing before swinging westwards towards the foot of the Isle of Mull. The seascape was magnificent, the colours of the islands a dramatic counterpoint to the blue/green of the sea. We continued west, passing the Torran Rocks we were told, and Kirsty and I moved to the front of the boat, arms round each other as we watched Mull coming closer. Turning northwards we sailed past the foot of Mull and up the Sound of Iona. Our first sight of Iona was magical. We could see the pristine white sands that were its beaches and the gentle height of Dun I the main feature. We sailed into an open bay and landed on the white sand, Kirsty and I dropping over the side and wading ashore. We waved to the fisherman as he turned his boat and set off for the return journey to Crinan. I felt there was something in the air, something special about this island. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I swept my eyes over the scenery trying to pinpoint what it was that was affecting me so. "Can you feel it?" Kirsty asked. "I can feel something, I'm not sure what it is but there is something," I replied, "it's as though everything is right in the world, that this place makes it so." "There is peace and hope for our country here I think." She said. There were some buildings further up from the beach and we started to make our way towards them. Two monks came from what was an Abbey to greet us and enquire what we were about. "I have come to try to help you against the Norsemen. If you will work with me I will try to make this Sainted Isle secure from their bile." "Bold words stranger, we can only hope that your words are matched by your strength. Believe us that the Danes are devils, we are close to abandoning this place as we cannot maintain a house of god in the face of their spleen." The monks accepted us warmly and allotted us a small cashel to live in. I spent the next week surveying the island and speaking to as many of the inhabitants as I could. It seemed that the Viking raids were predictable and that encouraged me. There were some forty able-bodied men on the island, only a few women and children, the lesson of previous raids having been learned. I spent my evenings pleasantly with Kirsty, the feel of the island somehow infusing our spirits, and made my plans as to how to take on the Vikings. I had a number of ideas and I knew I had to have the entire island behind me. I asked the Abbot to call all of the men together so that I could speak to them. Kirsty followed me to the flat land in front of the Abbey and stood by my side as I addressed them. "Men of Iona, Scotsmen. You have suffered great hurt at the hands of the Norsemen. Your kinsmen killed, your wives, daughters raped and carried off, your most precious artefacts stolen and your sacred buildings and sites defiled. I call you the bravest men in the Kingdom. You churchmen have the strongest of faiths to remain here in the face of such trials. You others know that another raid can happen at any moment yet you remain to defend this sainted isle. I have come to join you, to lay my life on the line against these heathens too. I promise that if you work with me, the next time they descend on these shores they will die for their arrogance and sacrilege. I promise that together we will make them think twice about ever returning to harry this place. I will give you what your amazing courage deserves; I will give you victory over the Danes! Will you work with me? Will we take on the Norse bastards and teach them who is master of this isle? Will we?" "YES." Came back the response. The resounding yell that was their response suggested to me that we had a chance and I moved among them, clapping backs and pumping hands and fists as the energy I had created buzzed through the crowd. My plans now had to be set in train. The Vikings could decide to raid the island at any time. There were a number of strands to my plan. Strand one involved the felling of trees and the construction of a version of the traps they had used in world war two to stop boats from landing on beaches. I explained to the island carpenter and metalworker what I wanted. My design involved tree trunks with metal spikes imbedded in them that would be anchored in the bay where the Vikings normally attacked. The spikes would be turned horizontally so that they were not obvious at low tide. Ropes attached to them would raise the spikes upward at the most propitious time, to rip the bottoms from the Viking longboats. Strand two involved smaller wooden stakes, driven into the seabed at an angle out to sea, sharpened to a fine point so that men running towards the beach would impale themselves on them. Strand three involved the husbanding of all of the island's lamp oil into large jars. I explained that these would be released into the water and set alight to consume any who managed to make their way through the stakes. Strand four was perhaps the weakest, marshalling the available men, those not designated to handle elements of strands one to three, into bands who could wield swords and spears. In this I was blessed in that Celtic churchman were no cravens, rather they were like to wield the sword in god's name. The monks made up the majority of my 'troops' and I recognised a growing anticipation amongst them as they thought of striking back at the Danes who had assaulted them time and again. Within two weeks I had all my plans in place, including a system of lookouts to give us sufficient warning to set everything in train. "My love, I cannot believe all that you have thought up to deal with these barbarians. You were right in the cave when you said that you thought you had something different to offer. You have given these people more hope than they have had in a long time and as I have watched how you have thrown yourself into building their defences I have grown to love you more if that is possible!" That night our lovemaking was even more intense than usual and I am sure that the entire island heard her cries of joy as she came over and over again. Two days later they came. ------- Chapter 8: Bring it on! It was mid-afternoon when I heard the warning bell ring and I rushed from the cashel, buckling my sword belt on. "Scott, don't do anything stupid. Come back to me, please!" Kirsty cried as she realised what was afoot. "Don't fret princess, get yourself to the hiding place we prepared, I will be able to function better knowing you're safe." I ran down towards the bay, pleased to see the islanders performing their allotted tasks as we had planned. I had begun to wear a kilt in the last week, my jeans somewhat the worse for wear and I shrugged my plaid off of my shoulder to free myself of any possible encumbrance should I need to use my sword. Kirsty enjoyed the freer access the kilt gave her to my 'staff-beast' as, of course, like a true Scotsman, I wore the kilt 'commando'. I couldn't see the Vikings as yet and wondered whether this was merely another one of the drills I had instituted. I watched men push out boats laden with the jars of oil, others running to take up the ropes that led to the submerged logs with the metal spikes. Men on either side of the bay were ready with lit torches to set fire to the oil. I walked slowly and confidently to the water's edge, in the middle of the bay. The mysticism of the island seemed to be at its height, lending me a bravado that perhaps wasn't warranted. Whatever, I stood alone, waiting for my first sight of the marauders. I watched as four longboats swept round into the bay. I gulped. Four boats. Three, possibly four, hundred Vikings against forty. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? The men in the boats finished pouring the oil on the water and rowed for the shore as quickly as they could and I watched the longboats come further in. We had contrived a marker buoy using an inflated sheep's stomach and I waited until the first two boats reached it before raising my arm in signal to the men on the ropes. The teams began to haul on their ropes, turning the logs until they locked underwater with their metal spikes now raised vertically. The longboats reached the spot where I thought the spikes were and sure enough they juddered as they struck and I heard clearly the shouts of concern aboard them as water must have been rushing in through the torn timbers. Quite quickly these two leading boats settled lower in the water and men began to jump over the sides into the water. The remaining two boats came forward more cautiously as they saw their compatriots in trouble. The first of these was not cautious enough however and it too struck the spikes and began to take on water. The last boat halted and then began to back out of the bay a little way. There were now several hundred angry Vikings in the water, heading my way and all brandishing swords, spears or axes. They were screaming as they came closer in and they made a frightening sight. Then those in front began to run into the sharpened stakes and all became bloody ruin, men screaming, those at the back pressing those at the front further into the 'field' of weapons. The water began to turn red with their blood. It was a scene straight from hell. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." I repeated quietly to myself as I stared at the carnage, listened to the agonised screams of men as they impaled themselves. I came to the realisation that this was all too real, not a dream or nightmare. I felt something warm on my leg and looked down to realise that I was actually wetting myself, a pool of urine gathering between my feet. A handful of Vikings had somehow managed to win their way through the stakes and were getting closer to the shoreline. I watched them, frozen in place. "I Challuim Chille! Columba!" I heard loudly behind me. I turned to see all of the churchmen running to the beach, blades and spears in their hands as they screamed out their battle cry of Iona and Columba. Something snapped in my head. Whether it was the shame of having peed myself, a reaction to the proximity of the Vikings or the arrival of the Churchmen I don't know. I found myself screaming and running into the water to meet the Vikings, my sword swinging above my head. Everything seemed to slow. I saw a bearded Viking before me. He must have been screaming because his mouth was wide and I was close enough to see spittle fly from it as he swung an axe in front of him. I was considerably taller and had by far the longer reach. "Fuck you, ya bastard!" I shouted as I wheeled my sword in the air and watched it hack into the side of his neck. I didn't dwell long on the blood that erupted from the wound, rather I turned to find another opponent, finding the churchmen had now caught up with me and were joining in with a will. "SCOTT! Come back, the oil, they can't light the oil with you in the water!" It was Kirsty's voice that cut through whatever madness that had descended on me. Her words somehow penetrated my head where the screams around me had not and I realised the significance of what she was shouting. I had planned the oil to deal with the possibility of some of the Vikings getting through the stakes. But now my stupidity in running into the water to meet them, my reaction to the heat of battle, was stopping the islanders from lighting the oil. "Back to the beach, back to the beach! On me men of Iona!" I shouted as I disengaged from the man in front of me and saw a churchman run him through from the back. I turned to run up the beach where I could see Kirsty standing, the Churchmen following me as they had made short work of the handful of Vikings that had made it through our defences. No sooner were we out of the water than men on either side ran to throw flaming torches into the water, setting the oil alight. It was incredible. The oil lit quickly and I watched as the flames, fanned by the breeze coming off of the land, rushed outwards from the beach all the way out to the stricken boats and beyond. No one could live through that inferno I thought to myself as the screaming amongst the stakes slackened off, the intensity of the flames possibly denying those in the middle of them any oxygen. I was shaken from my grizzly thoughts by cheering all round me and I looked up to see that the fourth longboat was retreating out of the bay. I turned to address the islanders. "You have fought valiantly this day but it might not be over yet my friends. Look you; we are still outnumbered by the Vikings on that last boat. If they decide to make landfall further along this coast, they could be upon us within the hour! A man to follow their progress along the shoreline and provide warning if you please." Not one but two islanders rushed to do exactly that and the cheering dried up, men's faces becoming solemn and determined once more. "You fool, what did you think you were doing?" I heard behind me, and suddenly Kirsty was all over me, trying to pummel me with her little fists. "You could have been killed! Oh Scott!" I hugged her to me and all the fight left her. "And what of you my love, you are supposed to be in hiding but I thank god for your timely reminder." Keeping my arm round her I walked back towards the Abbey, anywhere to get further away from the sight and smell coming from the waters of the bay. The churchmen followed and we all slumped to the grass, the reaction to it all setting in and exhaustion creeping over us. An hour or so later our two lookouts returned. They approached to stand in front of me and both bowed low. "My Lord, the raiders have indeed gone. We watched them head out to sea in the general direction of Colonsay." There was renewed cheering at this and the Churchmen produced flasks of uisge beatha which were passed round in celebration. I looked sideways at Kirsty and then back to the two men. "Thank you, but please do not name me Lord." "A feast! We will prepare a feast to thank god, St. Columba and Scott mac Fergus the Norse-slayer for our deliverance!" The senior Churchman cried. "The Norse-slayer! The Norse-slayer!" The islanders took up the chant. I sat embarrassed. I had after all only killed one Viking, hardly the stuff of legends but the islanders were obviously not going to be denied their hero and they hoisted me up, tossing me in the air and carrying me round on their shoulders chanting "The Norse-slayer". I looked over and saw that Kirsty was smiling broadly at my predicament. A feast was indeed prepared, meats being roasted on spits, bread and cheese in abundance and whisky and ale without limit. I was subdued and had no great appetite. The realisation that I had been the architect of a great slaughter was settling over me and, internally, I was trying to come to terms with that. "Such mayhem, such death, the blood." I thought to myself. "Many hundreds perhaps dead and all because of me. Well, are you proud of yourself now Scott?" Kirsty was watching me, saw that I was distracted from the feast and had come to know me well enough to guess what torture I was putting myself through. She sat down beside me, snuggling in to my shoulder. "Scott. I was against you coming here to try to do this. But all of these men around you would probably be dead now if you hadn't come. The Abbey would be ablaze, defiled. These Vikings that lie dead in the water have made a life out of such raids, of wantonly killing and burning and they have visited such fate on this very island many times in the past. My love, these men of Iona are alive and well tonight because of you and your ideas. I am so very proud of you, my brave, strong Scotsman!" I looked at her and could indeed see the love in her eyes as she leaned forward to kiss me. I admitted to myself that she perhaps had the right of it. No one had forced me to come here. I had decided that my countrymen needed my help and it was my own decision to take on the Vikings, take them on perhaps with some misguided sense of righting a wrong. To be having such self absorbed doubts and guilt now just wouldn't cut it. "So be it," I said, "tougher to survive and death is common. Curse the Danes, for they it is who surely brought this upon themselves. I think I would like to go to my bed Kirsty." She rose with me, remaining under my arm, tight to my side as we left the islanders to their feast and retired to our bed. Early the next morning I heard a commotion outside and I dressed hurriedly to see what was going on. The islanders were gathering once more down by the shore and I hastened to join them. Two longboats were visible in the bay, beyond the wrecks of the Viking ships and a large number of dead Viking bodies still impaled on stakes. The fact that the islanders appeared very relaxed about the presence of the boats indicated that they knew something I didn't. "Why are we not preparing to defend ourselves again?" I enquired of the nearest man. "My Lord, these are no Viking boats. These are my Lord the King's men, probably roused by the smoke of our fires yesterday." I watched as the boats moved further down the bay and then swung away altogether. The boat captains had obviously recognised there was some hazard in the bay, the stricken Viking boats acting as fair warning. Half an hour or so later we saw a body of men marching towards us. As they came closer I estimated there were perhaps a hundred or so tartan clad men. The churchmen were running around preparing food and drink and I waited on the grass outside the Abbey for the group to arrive. The churchmen gathered and, as the group came up, they bowed low. The senior churchman stepped forward. "Greetings my Lord King, welcome to this Sainted Isle once more. We have prepared refreshments for you but I'm afraid we have scant available to feed and water so many." I noticed the King glance in my direction, my height and breadth drawing his eye. "We saw smoke yesterday afternoon and feared our beloved Iona had been attacked and sacked by the cursed Norsemen yet again. But we see that you are well enough and if the signs in the bay are anything to go by the Norsemen got a little more than they bargained for. You seem to have dealt the raiders a crushing blow of your own. Tell me what happened here master churchman." "Scott mac Fergus, the Norse-slayer happened here my Lord." He gestured towards me. "He came to us some weeks past with a plan to defeat the Danes. Yesterday we put his plan into action and turned the raiders away, killing many hundreds in doing so, much to our satisfaction!" "Come tell us more of this as we eat." Said the King. I looked him over. He seemed an average man, stocky and well-muscled perhaps but still some four or five inches shorter than my six foot one. He had long brown hair and blue eyes. The only thing that made him stand out was that his arms were decorated by what looked like gold amulets. We sat and shared cold meat and bread from the night before, washing them down with beakers of the dark ale that the islanders brewed. The churchmen regaled the King and his men with all of the detail of my plans and took them through each stage of the battle from the day before. I felt the King's keen scrutiny as the details were described and he asked searching questions as to our preparations and execution of each stage. At last the King seemed satisfied, both with the food and ale and with the tale. I had remained silent throughout the telling, embarrassed at the praise heaped on me by the churchmen and cautious as to what the response of this King might be to my presence here. He stood and all others stood likewise, Kirsty and I joining them. "So my friend Scott mac Fergus, Norse-slayer, come with me to Dunadd," the King said. I would hear more of your tactics for beating the Danes. Other parts of my Kingdom and aye, the whole of Alba could do with such help against these invaders." He turned and he and his men began to walk back to where they had landed. I looked at Kirsty and she nodded urgently. We ran to our cashel and hastily gathered together our meagre possessions before scurrying after the King and his men. Thus abruptly our time on beautiful Iona was over. The King did not speak to either of us during the voyage back to Crinan but when we landed he called us to his side and offered us horses from a herd that were marshalled at the waterside. We rode along the causeway that Kirsty and I had crossed some weeks before on our way into the Knapdale Forest. We passed through the Great Moss (moor) until I could see the hill-fort of Dunadd in the distance. It rose up from swampy land all round it and commanded the land for miles. This was a strange sensation for me. In my own time I had visited the site of Dunadd and climbed to the top of the hill, fascinated by the foot shaped hole and outline of a Boar carved into the naked rock. History advised that the Kings would take the oath of fealty from their men on this rock, each of his men pouring a little soil from their own lands into the footprint before standing on it to take the oath. This signified that they held their lands of the King, in his gift as it were. Now, here I was returning but over eleven hundred years earlier, it was a complete and thriving settlement surrounding a hill-fort. We joined the King and his senior chieftains in a hall and were served refreshments. I was introduced to Angus and Duncan, who seemed to be his most trusted lieutenants, and was treated as something of a hero. Kirsty and I were allotted quarters in a basic house. Word of my part in the defeat of the Vikings spread quickly and over the course of the next few days I was bowed to by people I passed as I explored the settlement. There were numerous 'tradesmen' in evidence, brewers, metalworkers and, furthest from the living quarters, a tanner. When I investigated the tannery I realised why it was situated on the outskirts of the settlement - the stink from it was appalling and I covered my nose and beat a hasty retreat. I had a number of discussions with King Fergus mac Erc, these taking place in his quarters on the very top of the hill of Dunadd. The first time I answered his summons and climbed the hill I passed between two large rocks as I had in 2003AD and wound my way to the top. He questioned me once more on my tactics on Iona, where my ideas had come from, on my motivation for going to fight the Vikings in the first place. "Do you have other ideas for defeating men on land rather than at sea?" He asked me during one of our discussions. "I do my Lord. I have thought of a number of tactics involving specially trained small bands of men who would act independently to disrupt the enemy and of a different way of using archers perhaps. But I think the best chance of long-lasting success is to build up strength through alliances with others, perhaps based on trade." "My good cousin Constantine, High King of all Alba, would welcome your assistance presently," he replied, "for the Danes have invaded his lands to the north, having sailed in great numbers up the River Tay." "I am a Scotsman my Lord and would do whatever I could to help defend our lands." "What is this of trade mac Fergus? What have we here to trade with? I already trade with some who sail to Crinan, for this wine for example, but that takes all of the wool that my lands can produce." "My lord, I have ideas on that. I believe I could help you establish an almost unlimited source of salt and..." "Salt?" He interrupted me. "An unlimited supply of salt? Where man? Salt is a very valuable thing and in scarce supply as all know. Where have you found this great quantity of it?" "It is as yet only an idea my Lord, would need to be tested. I also think that there is an opportunity to trade for whisky," I added deciding to forego any mention of the possibility of making and trading soap for now. Somehow I didn't see the warlike Fergus showing much interest in soap. "There could be much value in this my Lord." "Perhaps," he replied, "but as you say your ideas will need to be tested. I will see to it that men are put at your disposal, try out your idea and find me mountains of salt man and I will reward you richly indeed. But be quick about it because Constantine has summoned me to join him in fighting the Norse and I would have you with me when I go." "Yes my Lord." I replied. ------- Chapter 9: The High King of Scots The king was as good as his word and I found three men waiting outside my small house the next morning. I asked them to find us horses as we were making the trip back to Crinan and they managed this without difficulty. For my purposes I needed at least one person who knew something of pottery or working with clay and when I questioned them none seemed to have that skill. They volunteered the name of another that could use clay and went to find him for me. So, it was with four men that I set out to ride back down the causeway to Crinan. My plan was to fashion a large clay pan to use in extracting salt from seawater through evaporation. Choosing a spot on the sand, I marked out a large square, roughly six-foot by six foot, and we dug the sand out to create a mould. All of us then worked with our potter to gather and shape appropriate clay into this sand mould. This took us most of the day and the potter informed us that we would need to leave the 'briquetage' for several days to dry out and set. Riding back to Dunadd we found the settlement in something of a stir. It seemed that Duncan and his men, some forty of them, had been riding south through his territory of Knapdale when they had saw smoke rising from the area of the settlement of Kilberry. Riding hard they had fallen upon a group of Norsemen who were sacking the place and a fight had ensued. Although the Danes had been driven off Duncan himself had been fatally wounded and his body now lay in the hall at Dunadd. The King was in a black mood it was said and I thought it best to keep out of his way. With my salt production project underway I turned my attention to soap making, my shower gel now long since gone. This was something I thought I could get Kirsty involved in. I knew we needed to prepare some potash to act as lye and roughly how to do that. Caution would be required as this stuff could get pretty caustic. I had Kirsty weave a basket from rushes - approximately a foot high - and I filled this with cold wood ash, making sure that the burnt wood was hardwood. Standing the basket inside an iron pot outside the house, I poured water into the basket and let it leech the necessary chemicals from the ash. Boiling some animal fat to extract the oil, we then combined different quantities of the oil and potash liquids together. I knew it was important to make sure that all of the lye was used up in the saponification process or the resulting mixture could burn the skin. It took a number of attempts before we got it right and then I showed Kirsty how she could add fragrant herbs like lavender to the mix just as the potash and oil were beginning to solidify to scent the soap. We poured the scented soap into clay moulds to harden and there we were, a supply of soap! I had explained the importance of cleanliness in terms of avoiding illness, germs and the like so Kirsty knew succeeding in making the soap was a big thing. She mixed up some scented for our personal use and unscented for more domestic use. The following day I still thought it would be a good idea to keep out of the King's way so I gathered my helpers and returned to Crinan to check on my briquetage. It was clear the Scottish May sunshine was not strong enough to set the clay anytime soon so we covered the clay with sand and proceeded to build a fire over it, in effect creating a sand oven. After several hours we dispersed the burning wood and uncovered the clay square, now hardened and ready for use. I employed my friends and raised the square on piles of stone at each corner, leaving the hole we had dug for the mould underneath. Using the pieces of wood that were still burning, we built a fire under the clay 'pan' and used skins to fill the pan with sea water. "Two of you need to remain with the pan and take turns at tending the fire and filling the pan with fresh sea water when the level drops low." I said to them. "The water must be kept boiling and I expect you to add at least forty skins of water before I return tomorrow. If it rains you must put up a shelter and stop any rain from getting into the tank." They discussed things amongst themselves and agreed three of them would stay and do as I asked. The other man and I started back towards Dunadd but when we paralleled the forest I decided to use some of the remaining hours of daylight to search for Yew trees as part of another idea that had come to me. Another snippet of history I remembered was that the English had gained a significant advantage in battle through the use of the longbow. Far bigger than a standard bow of the day, the additional size gave it significantly greater range and hitting power when the 'clothyard' arrows were used. We rode around for several hours but without luck and I decided it was time to return to Dunadd. I spent a cosy evening with Kirsty and the next morning returned alone to Crinan to check on the progress of my evaporation experiment. My three friends had performed well, banking the fires under the pan and replenishing the seawater as I had asked. When I looked into the pan it was to find a satisfying thick crust of salt crystals. Breaking off a bit of crystal, I put it in my mouth and immediately spat it back out due to the concentrated salt taste. "No more sea water." I told the men. All four of us were grinning at each other at our success when we noticed a mounted party coming towards us. I recognised King Fergus mac Erc himself at their head and prepared myself for a bad tempered monarch. Instead he appeared to be in quite a good mood as he rode up. "Greetings Scott mac Fergus, I've come to summon you to the burial of Duncan mac Innish. We sail for Iona within the hour, be ready man." "As you command my Lord," I replied. "What are you about here anyway?" "You commanded me to test my idea on the production of salt my Lord, I have done so." "How so man, you appear to but play on the sand here, lighting fires!" "Here my Lord, in this pan, my friends and I have boiled sea water and extracted the salt from it, see for yourself." The King leapt from his horse's back, suddenly very excited. He approached the pan and looked into it. He picked up one of the crystals as I had and touched it to his tongue. "Here is a wonder, creating salt from the sea! I see now why you suggested that there would be an unlimited supply. There is already enough in this pan for the whole Kingdom of Dalriada for a year once it is ground down. Incredible! Riches beyond belief. You shall be rewarded as I promised mac Fergus. Norse-slayer and now salt maker, you are a resourceful man and one I would cherish." I bowed to him and fell in beside him to walk down to the jetty where his longship floated. We waited for others to bring the hide wrapped body of Duncan mac Innish and set sail for Iona. During our voyage he told me something of the vacuum that Duncan's death created. Duncan had no son or brother to take on his lordship of Knapdale and Jura. His duty to the King was to support him by providing manned boats for every twenty households in his territory for sea warfare and five hundred men for battle on land. Lacking a lord to marshal such forces the King would be greatly weakened. We sailed into the same landing place as the King had used on his previous trip, the islanders having cleared any Viking bodies in the bay but apparently having left the logs, stakes and half-submerged longships as a deterrent to future raids. The internment of mac Innish was a quick, solemn affair and within the hour we had embarked and set sail back to Crinan. All during the burial and now on the journey back to the mainland, I noticed the King eyeing me, a thoughtful look on his face. Eventually he approached me. "Scott, this trip and the churchmen remind me of how well you planned and led these islanders against the Norse. You earned yourself the title of Norse-slayer." His use of 'Scott' rather than his usual 'mac Fergus' suggested something was afoot and I cautioned myself to be on my guard. "How well do you think you could lead five hundred men rather than forty?" "In all honesty my Lord I'm not sure. I've never been in such a position before. Why?" "Duncan sired no son nor did he have a brother but he did sire a daughter. It is common for succession to pass through the female bloodline in Alba and it occurs to me that I could address two of my problems at once through this current situation." "I'm sorry my Lord, how so? What problems do you mean?" "I have promised to reward you for your wondrous feat in making salt and I also need someone to lead the lordship of Knapdale and Jura. If you were to wed Duncan's daughter you would become Lord of Knapdale and Jura and I would have someone to lead those forces. Such a lordship I say would also be a fair reward in anyone's eyes." "But my Lord King, I already have a woman and have no desire for another." "I have made up my mind on this Scott. You say you have a woman, not a wife, so there is no bar to you marrying this Fiona nic Duncan. If you must, you can keep the woman you have already too, what you do in your own hall-house is your own business. I will send messengers ahead of you to Knapdale and Jura to inform all of my decision. The wedding will need to wait until after we go campaigning with Constantine but you must go and visit the lordship and return with its fullest force to Dunadd within seven days." With that he turned and walked off to talk to some of his other men leaving me open mouthed and completely shocked. When we made landfall at Crinan I was still in shock and the horse ride back to Dunadd passed in a blur. I shook myself wondering how I could get myself out of this fix. Going against the direct command of the King would be dangerous and it looked like Kirsty and I would have to go on the run again. I didn't look forward to breaking this news to Kirsty, she had already demonstrated that she had a temper on her. I entered the house and found Kirsty busy weaving more baskets and humming happily to herself. That made it even more difficult, I didn't want to spoil her mood but there was no way to avoid this. "Kirsty, we need to talk." Her reaction was exactly what I might have expected in my own time on hearing those words. 'Oh shit!' Her humming stopped and she looked at me with concern in her eyes. "What's the matter Scott, what has happened?" "We must pack up and leave my love, escape from this Dunadd. King Fergus has plans for me that are not acceptable." "What plans Scott?" "He has named me Lord of Knapdale and Jura, made so by virtue of my marriage to Duncan mac Innish's daughter, Fiona. He wants me to lead the men of that lordship into battle for him. I told him that I have already found my woman but he is a King and he believes he decides. So, we must pack and run my dear." I watched Kirsty closely expecting an eruption, expecting her temper to boil over at any moment. Instead, she looked at me wide eyed, mouth open. "Lord of Knapdale and Jura? You jest surely Scott. So much, why would King Fergus offer you this?" "You haven't been listening, it is not offered it is commanded!" "But Scott, why?" "He has a need of somebody to lead the men of Knapdale and Jura and deems the Norse-slayer as the man for the job. My reward for finding a way to extract salt from sea water, enough for the whole kingdom and for trading beyond." "So much, Scott, so much. This changes all. Think how much more you will be able to do, how much more you can help this Scotland with such influence, such resources, such power!" "Kirsty, you're forgetting the little part about the marriage to Fiona nic Duncan!" "I'm sorry to say it Scott but perhaps help with the staff-beast would be most welcome. I love him so, but sometimes I am worn down with his stamina. Sharing him might actually be a godsend so long as you don't forsake me." "I don't believe you can be so casual! We're talking about marriage for goodness sake!" "Hah! I knew I could only ever dream of marrying you, I'm a farm-maid, that kind of thing just doesn't happen. Scott, I know you think differently to others on these things but I understand this time better, believe me I am content, I already feel married to you, my heart is yours." I couldn't believe how accepting she was of this possibility, even a little hurt that she had been holding out on me that sex was wearing her down a little. "Are you really telling me that you want me to do this? You want me to marry this woman and take on the lordship of Knapdale and Jura?" "Of course I am!" I was not surprisingly a little cool towards Kirsty that night, amazed at her acceptance of my elevation and marriage. In the morning I washed (using our new-made soap) and dressed, leaving the house to find a group of men waiting outside. One of them approached me and bowed low. "My Lord Scott, we are your men and would take our oaths of fealty to you for the lands that we hold." "Who are you?" I asked in reply. It transpired that there were thirty or so of them, the survivors of Duncan's fight with the Danes that had resulted in his death. The news that I was to become their new Lord had obviously been leaked to them and I was surprised at how eager they were to accept me as their leader. Surreally for me, I accepted their oaths of fealty, each of them going down on one knee, taking my right hand between both of theirs and swearing to support me and my household until death. I singled out the man who had come forward first and asked him to come speak with me. I led him into the house and he sat opposite Kirsty and I. "What's your name?" I asked him first. "my name is Lachlan my Lord, I was one of my Lord's shieldbearers." Kirsty whispered to me that this meant he had been one of Duncan's lieutenants. "Can you tell me about the lordship, its size, settlements, men, arms?" Lachlan ran through the various resources that were available to the lordship. I was impressed at how extensive these sounded, from grain such as oats, barley and wheat, through livestock - sheep, cattle, pigs and horses - and of course men. Together Knapdale and Jura could field up to seven hundred men, he boasted, and twenty or more boats. "These boats, how big are they?" "Twenty men on the oars my Lord, not as big as a longship but fast nonetheless." That would have to change I thought. I had some ideas as to how I could perhaps improve on current sea warfare but these smaller boats would not help me. I would need to establish whether the lordship had any shipwrights and if so set them to building me some longships. Meantime I knew of three longships already built and available, and I made a mental note to dispatch men to Iona to see if the Viking ships could be salvaged. It seemed my lordship totalled over six hundred houses. This didn't sound a lot to me, with the remnants of my twenty-first century view of things, but Kirsty and Lachlan told me that this was a vast number, representing a strong lordship. We made plans for a very quick review of the lordship, at the same time raising a host to join King Fergus. Our trip would start in Iona I decided, checking on the longships. "Lachlan, send a few of your men south through Knapdale to raise the lordship ahead of us. See if the King can spare us any shipwrights and prepare the rest of the men to sail for Iona as soon as possible." "Yes my Lord, I will see to it immediately." Once more then, Kirsty and I packed up our belongings and made ready to sail for 'I Challuim Chille'. We rode to Crinan and found Lachlan and over thirty men waiting for us. He had rounded up four of the Kings shipwrights and I thought that would be sufficient to carry out quick repairs on at least one of the Viking longships. King Fergus had also put a boat at my disposal, recognising my need to go to Jura, so we embarked and set sail. The job of clearing a passage through the stakes in the bay was quickly completed and we enlisted the aid of the islanders to drag the closest of the longships ashore, turning it on its side to investigate the extent of the damage. There were a number of quite large gashes in the pitch and timbers and it seemed clear that repairing it would not be an easy job. I suggested we try to beach the longship that had foundered last as it had been the most cautious in its approach and might therefore have less damage. This ship was of course further out into the bay and the job of hauling it ashore was therefore more difficult but with over fifty men manning ropes we managed to achieve it. Scrutiny of its keel showed less damage and the shipwrights assured me they would be able to use timbers from the first boat to effect repairs. They thought it might take them the rest of day but the keel would then need to be sealed and waterproofed with a fresh application of pitch so we would need to wait for that to be carried out too. It was clear that we would not be able to set out for Jura before the next afternoon at least. We passed a pleasant evening with the churchmen, reliving our victory against the Norse. Lachlan and the Knapdale men appeared to grow increasingly impressed with my apparent abilities and I thought I saw a new pride in them, a growing pride that perhaps they had a worthy leader. The next day the shipwrights were as good as their word and by early afternoon they advised that the longship was sea worthy. I asked them to remain behind to repair the other two longships, sending to Crinan if necessary for the necessary materials. They promised me that they would see to it and we set off for Jura. The longship was designed to have eighty men manning the oars and I now had less than forty at my disposal but we were still able to make reasonable time due to the prevailing winds which allowed us to sail under canvass rather than row. We sailed almost due south being advised once more to avoid treacherous Corrievrechan and some hours later we could see the island of Jura and the smaller Colonsay coming closer. Passing between the islands, we sailed on until suddenly the paps of Jura came into sight. The three paps, or mountains, each soared some two thousand five hundred feet high and I was informed their Gaelic names were Beinn a'Chaolais - the mountain of the sound, Beinn an Oir - mountain of gold and Beinn Shiantaidh - holy mountain. There must have been some quartz in them as the slopes glinted in the sunlight on places as we sailed past. Further on Lachlan explained that what I thought was another part of the island of Jura was in fact another island, Islay, and what I had deemed a bay was rather the Sound of Islay, a narrow passage between Islay and the foot of Jura. We now swung into this passage and sailed down it, past the tiny islands of Am Fraoch Eilean and Brosdale, and turned northeast. My head was swimming at the sheer beauty of it all, the steep, forbidding mountains, the wild seas, and sizeable herds of deer lazily grazing on the steep lower slopes. Lachlan informed me that Jura was actually derived from a Norse word literally meaning 'Deer Island'. The men had to turn their hands to the oars as we swung the longship past another small island - Eilean nan Gabhar - into a natural bay, sheltered by the height of the hills and mountains above us. Rowing further we made landfall on a sandy beach and Lachlan sent men off to find what few horses the island might have to ease our onward journey. Horses were brought from Craigh and we rode the two miles back there to find a largish settlement, apparently the only one on the island although there were steadings also dotted around. Craigh raised forty men for the hosting and I was satisfied that this gave me near an entire crew for the longship. We accepted the fine hospitality but set out early the next morning, setting sail for the same Kilberry on Knapdale where Duncan had been slain. The crossing to Knapdale was a short one, barely an hour and we were met at Kilberry by another one hundred of the fighting men of my new lordship. We managed to commandeer some twenty horses and I appointed a captain to bring the main body of men on on foot. Lachlan told him to come via Ormsary, Achahoish and Aird Driseig to pick up other men, before heading to where the main gathering was taking place at the head of Loch Gilp. Aird Driseig was where the main stronghold of the lordship was situated and I planned to ride there with the twenty or so mounted men. Aird Driseig was on the shores of Loch Gilp, a sub-loch of the great Loch Fyne and there I would find more men. as well as my intended bride! ------- Chapter 10: Women trouble The crossing to Knapdale the next morning was short; barely an hour and we landed at the same Klberry where Duncan had been so recently slain. Some one hundred and fifty men from the lordship met us there and Lachlan introduced me to the local captains. Commandeering twenty horses we decided to ride on to Aird Driseig, the main settlement of the lordship. I ordered the remaining men, now over two hundred, to come on behind us, picking up some other contingents, Lachlan added, at Ormsary and Achahoish and to meet us at Aird Driseig within three days. We found beds ourselves at the settlement at Achahoish that night, the settlement within a timber rampart, set on high ground above a grand sand plain at the head of Loch Caolisport. Men were gathering here also to swell the ranks of my contribution to King Fergus' host. The journey to Aird Driseig the next day was uneventful and we reached the Knapdale Lord's settlement in the early afternoon. Aird Driseig sat on the shores of Loch Gilp, itself an offshoot of great Loch Fyne and the settlement was larger than any I had as yet come across. Built round and on a hill, it was defended by a raised, grass covered, mound of earthenwork all around, behind which was a moat. The moat was 'fed' from the loch and was crossed by a timber bridge that ran all the way to a large set of wooden gates. The gates were set into a wooden rampart which itself ran the entire circumference of the settlement, only a narrow path between it and the moat. Behind the wooden rampart I could see numerous houses of various sizes, all single storey and mostly stone built with thatched roofs. Part way up the hill there was a flatter plane of ground and the biggest structure sat there, presumably the hall-house that would be used for meetings, feasting and the like. As we rode closer I could pick out workshops and dwelling houses and it was also clear that there was a fair gathering of men already here, perhaps another two hundred or so. We rode over the bridge and through the gates, Lachlan directing that we should make for the hall. A small group of men emerged from the hall-house to greet us. "My Lord, welcome to Aird Driseig. I am Colmgil mac Iain, the Steward of this place. Your progress has been made known to us so we have prepared food, drink and suitable accommodation for you. I hope all is in order?" "Well met Colmgil. I see the stewardship looks to be in well-organised hands. My thanks, some food would be most welcome." We dismounted and followed Colmgil into the hall-house. There were numerous wooden tables, mostly already occupied by tartan clad men who were drinking what looked like ale. One table at the head of the hall was empty and it was to this that Colmgil led us, indicating I should take the large seat in the middle. Platters of steaming meat and beakers of ale were served and we exchanged small talk as we ate. Looking out of the hall into the camp, I noticed two women who looked as if they were watching me from the doorway of a small house. "Who are they?" I asked Colmgil, indicating the women. "Who? Oh them, they are the women." "Yes, I can see they are women, but who are they?" Colmgil looked at me quizzically for a moment before replying. "They are Duncan's widow and daughter." He said offhandedly. I let the conversation move on, surprised at the absence of any apparent respect being paid to Duncan's family. After we had eaten, Colmgil introduced me to the main captains already gathered here at Aird Driseig. I was further surprised when he finished the introductions and turned to lead Kirsty and me to our accommodation without any further reference to Duncan's widow and daughter. We walked further up the hill towards one of the largest houses and Colmgil confirmed this was mine if I so wished. We entered through a wooden door and were dismayed at what we found. Inside the house was dim and damp, the floor filthy and strewn with hides and furs. Basic wooden furniture finished off the look. There were windows set into the wall on either side of the door but these were small, mere slits really and let in little natural light. "This will not do!" I said. "Colmgil, find me what passes for a builder or woodworker in this camp and we will see whether we can make this place habitable. Who has been living here until now?" "My Lord Duncan it was who had this house before you my Lord Scott. He and his womenfolk lived here." He left us to try and find a builder. I turned to Kirsty and could see that she too had her nose turned up at the sight and smell of the house. She helped me pull all of the hides and furs out onto the grass and my skin immediately began to itch as I could see fleas jumping all over them. I hastily lit a fire in the great fireplace set into the back wall of the house and Kirsty and I set to sweeping the floor as thoroughly as we could. When we had finished there was a large mound of dirt that we swept out of the door. I filled a large pot with water and swung it over the now blazing fire to heat then turned to meet two men coming to the door. They advised me that they were Aird Driseig's builders. I asked them to enlarge both of the windows in the house and to put poles above them for hanging heavy drapes. I also told them to find some whitewash and to apply it to all of the internal walls as soon as they could. Having set these works in train, I left Kirsty to cope and went looking for Colmgil and Lachlan. I found my two lieutenants in the hall-house, swigging back ale like everybody else was. I joined them and someone quickly set ale in front of me also. We discussed lordship affairs in general before then focussing on the coming hosting with King Fergus. I shared with them my knowledge that we were not going campaigning in Dalriada but rather we faced a long march across Alba to support the High King in his struggle with Norse invaders around the River Tay. I could see both become more excited by this news. A significant land campaign against the Norse was highly unusual as they normally employed 'hit and run' raiding tactics. While Lachlan and Colmgil had heard from some ships' captains that Norsemen had settled on some of the Northern Isles, this was the first time either had heard of a land invasion of any note. The hall-house was becoming ever more rowdy as more men filled themselves with ale and uisge beatha. Several small scuffles broke out and there was raucous singing. I didn't begrudge the men their revelry, after all they would be marching with me into battle in two days and their time on god's earth could be short-lived indeed. The growing noise level precluded any further 'private' discussions between the three of us so instead Lachlan and Colmgil began to go through the names and seniority of my various captains. Apparently this was of vital importance as the seniority in turn determined where each group of men came in the order of march and the order of battle. Getting this wrong would be seen as a significant slight so I paid close attention and also made a mental note to myself to make sure I kept either Lachlan or Colmgil close at hand for the next three or four days to make sure I didn't slip up. There was still plenty of daylight when I returned to the house. I was surprised to see all of the building work and the whitewashing already completed. I also noticed a dirty looking straw filled mattress lying outside the house and saw that Kirsty had hung heavy tartan sheets/plaids as temporary curtains, tied back currently with leather thongs. The windows were much larger now and let in a lot more natural light, flooding the house and reflecting back off of the newly whitened walls. The floor also looked spotless and I detected the scent of lavender in the air. I guessed that Kirsty had scrubbed the floor with some of her scented soap and sure enough there was a crude, wet, scrubbing brush lying in one corner. Kirsty was sitting in a chair working at making up a new mattress with clean cloth and fresh straw. I carefully used a rag to swing the pot of hot water from over the fire over the fire and carried it outside the house. "Do you have soap and a brush I can use to de-louse the hides and furs?" I asked her as I returned to the house. "In the corner there." She replied. Picking up the brush I looked at its very short bristles and asked her what it was made from. "It's made from pig bristles." She told me. I bent to my unpleasant task, first pouring hot water over the hides/furs in an effort to take care of the fleas, then scrubbing them with the soap and brush. It took me the best part of an hour and when finished, I laid the clean floor coverings out on the grass to dry. Kirsty was nowhere to be seen when I re-entered the house but I could hear noises from behind the curtain that screened off what I assumed was a sleeping area. I investigated and found Kirsty trying to lift our new mattress onto a wood-frame bed. The bed was 'sprung' with belts of leather, which were nailed to the frame. This was certainly more than I was used to in this time, the best we had managed before had a straw mattress on the bare ground or a pile of freshly picked ferns. I helped her with the mattress and left her to make up the bed for the night. Noticing food laid out on the table, I speared a haunch of what looked like raw beef and set it over the fire to roast. I walked to one of the windows and felt Kirsty come to my side, putting her arm round my waist. We stood together gazing out over the settlement, down Loch Gilp, down great Loch Fyne and out to sea. In the setting sun the lochs were framed on both sides by woods and soaring hills were in the distance. The sight stirred a great love in me for this country of mine, burned something into my soul. I could well understand why someone had elected to build a settlement on this site, to be able to enjoy god's creations, glorious nature, if nothing else. We turned to sit by the fire, watching and listening to the meat as it roasted and spat out its fat into the flames. Kirsty toasted some bread and we were sharing our experiences of the day when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door to see the two women from earlier on in the day. Ushering them in, I invited them to sit. "No thank you, my Lord," said the older of the two, "if you please, we came only to introduce ourselves to you as none other has seen fit to do." She paused at this point, her voice had carried a hint of anger but now she looked at me nervously. "And to find out what is to become of us Sir." She got out in a rush. "First things first. What are your names?" I asked. "I am Bridhe nic Oengus and this is my daughter, Fiona nic Duncan." "Why were you put you from your home?" I asked Bridhe. "The house is the lord's house, Sir, and now that means you. We were grudgingly given a smaller house until it was discovered what your plans are for us were." "My plans? What do you mean?" My Lord, we face being thrown out of the settlement as none have indicated they want us. For some reason Colmgil, the Steward stopped this and made a house available to us. I was appalled at this apparent treatment of two human beings. Kirsty's lessons as to the value and station of women in this time were being borne out and in the harshest terms. "Well Bridhe, Fiona, King Fergus has commanded that I take over this lordship and as part of that I am to marry Fiona." They both drew in their breath at this, Bridhe's shoulders almost seeming to lose some of their tension while, conversely, Fiona's seemed to tighten and she looked at me fearfully. "Do not worry Madam," I said to Fiona, "it is not my idea to wed you, indeed as you can see, I already have a companion and one I love dearly." Kirsty beamed me a huge smile at this. "This is Kirsty. As the King has commanded it, wed we will probably be but you should have no fear that I will be expecting you to share my bed when I have Kirsty to do that." This last seemed to re-assure her and there was an immediate relaxation in her posture. "Why this is good, very good." Said Bridhe. "The King has commanded wisely and justly." I was surprised at her calm acceptance that her daughter was to marry a complete stranger, indeed she seemed more than accepting, positively delighted. I invited both of them to sit once more and this time they did do. I drew the curtains against the falling night and cooling wind and carved portions of roasted meat from the haunch over the fire. It was a strange and somewhat uncomfortable meal with only sporadic and stilted conversation. Until that is the women and Kirsty warmed up to each other. Then it was as if they had known each other for years and they entered into a 'gossip fest' of the first order - Kirsty raking up all the dirt on key people in the lordship and Bridhe brazenly asking for details about me, even as I sat beside them. "I am sorry but you will have to make do with sleeping in front of the fire tonight." Kirsty said to the two women. I looked strangely at her. What was she doing? Was she inviting these women to stay? "If you are to wed Fiona then she and her mother will become part of your household," she said to me as she saw my eyebrows gathering. "She will be your wife after all and in any event you will be gone campaigning soon enough and I will need company to keep my mind off of worrying about your safety constantly." I couldn't really argue with her logic and I knew that once Kirsty had made up her mind I had more chance of moving the paps of Jura than I had of changing it. I shrugged and washed up, indicating I was going to bed for the night. Behind the curtain, Kirsty had made up the bed using a plaid and our sleeping bag. For the first time I noticed a smaller fireplace in the side wall of the house and that somebody, presumably Kirsty had gathered the fixings to make a fire. I quickly used one of my cigarette lighters to start a small blaze then stripped and crawled into bed, finding it to be quite comfy. The sound of quiet voices drifting over the curtain let me know that Kirsty had decided not to come to bed yet. I suppose the many weeks without female company were now being made up for in one fell swoop. Their chatter didn't stop me from falling asleep quickly. Some time later Kirsty woke me as she slid into bed beside me. Knowing this was my second last night before going off to fight, I made sure to please my wee lassie before falling asleep again. Up early the next morning, I ate some toast and cheese and headed outside with my sword. I had tried to keep up my daily practice and now at Aird Driseig I had plenty of people with whom to spar. I decided to try sword fighting while holding a shield or 'targe' and found that this changed everything - strokes, stance and balance. Realising I would need to get much better at this and quickly, I practised for several hours and vowed to myself I would do so each day if at all possible. Another surprise awaited me when I entered the house looking for something to eat. Kirsty had obviously been sharing her soap with Bridhe and Fiona and the change in them was quite remarkable. As I paused in the doorway looking at both of them I realised my mouth was hanging open and that I was staring, rudely. Bridhe at least seemed pleased with this reaction and she blushed prettily. Her complexion was pale but that simply made the contrast with her fiery red hair all the more marked. It was long, tied back with some green ribbon. Her eyes were also a sparkling green, hinting at both passion and humour, full of life. Washed of the grime she looked much younger and I would have placed her now in her mid-twenties but I knew that couldn't be accurate given the age of her daughter. But then I looked at Fiona. She also looked much younger than before, perhaps as young as sixteen and as cute as could be. She didn't have her mother's hair, hers rather dark brown in colour, falling in gentle waves down to the small of her back. She had inherited her mother's green eyes though and these too looked to be vital and full of life. Her shape almost seemed to suggest that she was still developing, it was slight and understated. She had her head slightly bowed and appeared coy, shy but still interested in what my reaction to her would be. I gathered myself and entered the house, trying to find my tongue. Kirsty laughed behind me and broke the mood, the other two women joining in with nervous giggles. "Well girls I think we can tell by that reaction that he approves of the cleaned up versions of you." She said. I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it again as I realised this was one of those situations where no matter what I said I would either be further embarrassed or I would say the wrong thing. Shrugging instead I stomped to the table and began to chew on some cold cooked meat that was sitting there, raising my eyebrows at Kirsty as if to ask what was going on. "I shared with Bridhe and Fiona the importance of keeping both themselves and the house clean at all times in terms of avoiding illnesses. I think the scent in the soap was a major part of them agreeing to bathe however, and now that they have witnessed the results for themselves, and seen the effect it has on you, I have little doubt that we will need to make more soap so they can bathe everyday." Both of them nodded their agreement with this statement and I looked them over again. They were indeed both beauties, the age of the young girl confirming my resolve not to seek to take her to my bed. But I again wondered why the other men in the settlement had shunned them, surely they were worth more than that? Once more I realised I was staring at them both and I shook myself, focussing instead at the meat in my hands. Wolfing the meat down I beat a hasty retreat in the face of whatever these three were scheming up. I headed for the hall-house, a hall that was now full and overflowing with men, to find either Lachlan or Colmgil. It seemed that the other groups from Kilberry and Achahoish had arrived and the total force now at Aird Driseig was almost seven hundred men. A huge force I thought. Some would obviously have to remain to protect the settlement but it looked as if I would be setting out with some six hundred hardened fighters to join Fergus. Setting out soon would be important, as Aird Driseig could not cater for so many for any length of time. I realised that foraging was going to be a big issue but Colmgil assured me that they had already organised teams of men to forage as we marched. These would be supplied with horses to make their job easier so they could range away from the host but easily catch up to it once their hunting and the like was finished. Being in the midst of such a crowd stirred my blood. The noise, the colour of the tartans, the clang of steel as men sparred with each other. I didn't know what it was, there was just something about it. Lachlan asked if I wanted to join a party that was preparing to go hunting in some nearby woods. That sounded just the thing to match my mood. I agreed and armed myself with a decent spear before climbing aboard a horse and joining a group of a dozen or so mounted men. Quite quickly the group split into pairs, the wood being just a little too dense for any more than that two ride together. I was partnered with Lachlan and we rode our horses slowly through the trees, alert for any sign of game. Lachlan obviously knew the area and I assumed he had an idea where a good spot to find game might be so I simply followed his lead. We had not gone far when we heard some rustling up ahead, sounding as if it was coming from the thick underbrush between two large trees. Lachlan held up his hand to indicate I should stop and he pointed to my spear to make sure I had it ready. As we sat there listening to the noises, a large boar forced itself out of the scrub; its snout pressed to the earth as it searched for food. Lachlan urged his horse forward and aimed his spear at the boar and I followed suit, hardly knowing what I was doing. Lachlan's spear ran into the boar's side and it gave out an almighty squeal, whipping its body round in an effort to both get itself off of the spear and get at his horse. I rode up the other side of the boar and thrust my spear into its chest, seeing the spear blade sink deep and blood gush from the wound. My thrust must have hit something vital because the boar didn't remain long on its feet and its struggles fell away too. We remained on our horses until Lachlan at last indicated that he thought it was safe to dismount and check that the boar was dead. It was. Removing our spears and cleaning them on the grass, we managed to hoist the dead boar between us onto the back of Lachlan's horse. I mounted and he swung up behind me so that we could lead our kill back to the camp. On our return we found that two of the other pairs had also been successful, one killing a deer and the other another boar. The dead animals were handed over to others to dress and we made our way to the hall-house to drink a well-earned ale. After eating that evening, Kirsty and I retired to our beds early as we knew I would be departing with the host early in the morning. At best I would be gone for some weeks and if things went badly we both knew there was a distinct possibility I might not return. I shuddered as I thought that my death would mean that Kirsty would in all likelihood be shunned as Bridhe and Fiona were when we had first arrived. The knowledge of the threat and the danger added an urgency to our lovemaking that night and we fell asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms. Our parting the next morning was quiet but intense, Kirsty hugging me and whispering that I must take care and come back to her. There were no tears as she kissed me goodbye and I mounted up and rode towards the gates with a final wave. Many of the men looked bleary eyed in the early morning light, obviously having enjoyed themselves overmuch the night before. There was a lot of grumbling but no real hold up as I remembered with Lachlan's help to marshal the groups in the correct order. The journey to Dunadd was only some eight miles and the slow progress of the 'infantry' was chafing me by lunchtime. We stopped to eat and I decided to ride on ahead with Lachlan and some of the other captains. When we arrived at Dunadd it was to find that King Fergus and some of his other levies had already departed, leaving word that I should follow on. We returned to the Knapdale host and I decided some exercise was in order, dismounting and joining the rest of my men on foot for the rest of the day. I changed our line of march and we now followed the shore of Loch Fyne as we made our way northwards. Four more days of marching, now heading northeast, brought us to the foot of Strathfillan where we camped for the night. The foragers had been doing sterling work, bringing in food aplenty to keep the host's bellies full and the atmosphere in the camp was upbeat despite what we all knew we were marching towards. Three further days of marching, averaging about fifteen miles a day took us through Glen Dochart, Glen Ogle, alongside Loch Earn, through Strathearn and we finally met up with the King Fergus and his main host in Glen Almond. I sat on a horse looking out over the assembly, with my own men now totalling some one thousand seven hundred men of Dalriada. I realised that we would be going into battle some time soon. I was beginning to relish the prospect - tougher to survive, death is common my mantra! ------- Chapter 11: Fighting Dirty Lachlan and I made our way through the host to where a banner fluttered indicating King Fergus' position. We found the King, surrounded by his own lieutenants and discussing tactics for the coming battle. "Ah, mac Fergus, good timing! The High King has had us waiting and need help to convince him to commit to battle. He has been camped opposite the Norse for three days already and I grow hot for blood. Now you are here I long to advance on these accursed Danes." Fergus said as I joined his company. "My Lord," I said as I bowed before him. "Surely he will not advance today, there is insufficient daylight left to conclude a battle?" "No, but we will convince him to be at it early tomorrow, mark my words." Even as he said this a messenger from the High King, Constantine arrived to re-affirm his orders to stand our ground. We were not to prepare for an early morning advance. I took my leave of the King and Lachlan and I made back towards the Knapdale men. I told him I wanted to have a look at the Norse numbers and their position. "While I go forward to survey the Norse find me the three best fighters who are also the best deerstalkers." I told him. He looked at me quizzically. I turned away, hefting the small field pack that Kirsty had made for me so I wouldn't need to use the rucksack, and started forward to where the Norsemen were. During the march I had been racking my brains to try and think of an advantage my twenty first-century knowledge could bring in the coming battle. There were no modern armaments that I could bring to bear; I knew nothing of explosives and how to make them - even though I seemed to remember reading a SOL story where somebody made black powder. I think I once read a Wilbur Smith book that also dealt with how to make your own gunpowder but I couldn't quite recall what it entailed. There was something about sulphur and saltpetre I knew but what else eluded me. What had come back to me was the tactics of Britain's Special Air Service, the SAS. While I had no military training whatsoever, nor any guns or grenades, I had read countless SAS books, including a history of the regiment. I knew the philosophy that underpinned these Special Forces and I believed I could put some of it into practice now. In wartime the SAS had two primary roles: to disrupt the enemy by destroying strategic targets; and to gather intelligence through reconnaissance to help other units, like artillery or airforce, target the enemy or to help inform the leadership so that better decisions could be made. I was hoping that I could do something along the lines of that first role: disrupt the enemy by destroying a strategic target. I had a notion that a leaderless army is a demoralised and uncoordinated army and one of the things the SAS could do was assassination. I intended to see whether it would be possible to use a small team to take-out the Norse leadership before the battle started, tonight if possible, using the cover of darkness. Climbing a nearby rise I saw the Norse host laid out before me. It was an impressive sight. I wasn't sure how many of them there were but it was certainly many thousands, possibly as many as ten thousand. I lay down and opened my bag to get the binos out. Scanning the Norse host, I looked for any obvious signs of leadership and quite quickly was able to pick out four tents at different points amid the mass that had banners streaming from poles stuck in the ground. The vast bulk of the Norse forces stretched out in front of these tents and it seemed to me there was a chance of creeping up behind them. I lingered longer, sweeping the binos over the ground immediately behind the tents but couldn't see much more as there was a dip not much further back. Satisfied I had seen all I could, I returned to the Knapdale men and found Lachlan with two others waiting for me to tell them what was afoot. We grabbed some food and water and sat down a little apart from the main body of men. "What is everybody's aim when battle begins?" I asked them. "To avoid being killed and to win, in that order." Answered Lachlan. "Okay, but what drives a man on, drives him forward?" "That's easy, the desire to get at the enemy's leaders and kill them if you can." "Why?" I asked. "Because a leaderless host is often seen as a host lacking control, in panic and on the way to being defeated." "Exactly!" I said. "I don't follow you my Lord." "See you, what would the effect be on a host if they awoke in the morning to find all of their chieftains dead? All dead at once?" "Why it would in all likelihood cause great panic my Lord. But how could that happen?" "It will happen tonight when the four of us creep into their camp and despatch their chiefs as they sleep!" All three exclaimed at this, their eyes full of excitement and bloodlust all of a sudden. I smiled as I saw my plan had their full approval. "By the Saints!" growled Lachlan, "that is a plan my Lord!" "Aye, but it will not be so easy see you, there are possibly as many as ten thousand Danes before us and they will have guards posted too." "Guards or no guards we will make this plan of yours succeed my Lord." "I suggest we all get some sleep now and wait for darkness. Lachlan, leave orders with the next senior captain for tomorrow in case we don't return and warn our own guards so they don't kill us!" "Yes my Lord." He said as he walked off, a definite spring in his step. I walked over to where my gear lay and took my own advice, wrapping my plaid around me and lying down to try and get some sleep. I tossed and turned but eventually managed to drop off only to be shaken awake again what seemed like moments later. Of course some hours had passed, as it was now dark. Lachlan and our two fellow would-be-assassins stood waiting for me to get ready. "Off with the plaids," I told them, "no jewellery or anything else that could make a noise in the night to give us away. Now, copy me." I took some charred wood and blackened my hands, applying the charcoal liberally all over my body. The others did likewise and soon all that stood out was the whites of their eyes and their teeth. I grinned at them and stuck my newly sharpened dirk into the waist of my kilt as I led the way into the darkness. I took a long loop round where I estimated the main body of Norse to be, aided in this by the glow from their campfires. We moved noiselessly through the night, the only sound coming from a running stream that we crossed. Once we had gone as far as I thought we needed to, to get beyond the host, I swung northwards and we crept forward. At last I decided we had gone far enough and I turned us west. I whispered to the others that we needed to be even quieter now if possible, we needed to go slower and we needed to keep our eyes alert for guards. The ground in front of us began to rise and I guessed this was the foot of the dip I had seen earlier through the binos. Lachlan touched my shoulder and I stopped, easing myself slowly to the ground. "On the left, do you see?" He whispered to me, his mouth almost touching my ear. I scanned ahead and to the left to try to pick up what he had spotted. Sure enough, there was some slight movement as a man rubbed his arms in an effort to keep warm. I nodded to Lachlan to let him know I had pinpointed the guard and he crept over to our two companions to whisper something to them. I watched as they slipped off to the side, clearly aiming to get behind the guard. Lachlan and I waited around half an hour and then we saw the Norseman pulled violently backwards, a whoosh of breath his only sound as I assumed my deerstalkers dirked him to his death. Presently we saw our two companions creep towards us and one whispered a report. "To easy my Lord, I've had tougher jobs trying to stalk a deer. But it looks as if we have come too far, we will need to crawl some distance to reach the first tent." The four of us crept forward again, up the hill, faces now grim and set as the first blood had been spilt. As we reached the top of the slope I could see what he meant. The first tent was still several hundred yards away. My plan had been to start with the tent furthest away from our own camp first and work back towards the stream we had crossed. We had agreed that if we were discovered or split up, this was where we would try to meet up. Failing that we would try to make it back to our own camp. As we neared the tent I became increasingly nervous. My mouth was dry and I continually yawned, despite the fact that I was far from tired. My stomach was churning and I had an overwhelming desire to shit. I knew I would not embarrass myself though and tried to steady myself by repeating 'tougher to survive, tougher to survive' over and over inside my head. Lachlan indicated to the others that they should hang back and keep watch. They had already drawn blood and it was now our turn. We reached the side of the tent and I reached out my hand to test the material, finding it was a hide of some description. I was pleased at this as it would cut quietly under my sharp blade, unlikely to make a noise and give us away to the occupants of the tent. As carefully as I could I cut an opening for us and first Lachlan and then me slipped inside. The Norseman was asleep on a pile of furs, a woman by his side. I thought I could detect a smell of whisky and assumed he had been drinking, his last with any luck. Lachlan had obviously decided the Norseman was mine and moved silently over towards the sleeping woman. It had not really occurred to me but I now realised that the woman would have to be killed too to stop her raising the alarm. 'Tougher to survive' I thought again as I shrugged and knelt down beside the furs. I brought my razor sharp dirk down fast, feeling it sink deeply into the Dane's throat and whipping it back towards myself to almost sever his head from his shoulders. Not even a strangled cry escaped him and I looked up to see Lachlan's white teeth grinning at me and the woman in a similar state to the man. Our two companions repeated our performance at the next tent, Lachlan and me keeping watch. We heard a cry and I held my breath waiting for the camp to rouse but there was no reaction and moments later the two deerstalkers re-joined us, wiping blood from their dirks on their kilts. They explained that there had been two men and a woman in the tent and the woman had woken before they could despatch both of the men and get to her. The occupants of the last two tents were killed without any further noise and we slipped off into the night to make our way back to our own camp. Before we reached the stream we heard a commotion and dropped to the ground. I was sure that our handiwork had been discovered at first but as we peered behind us it seemed something else was going on. It appeared as if men were being roused in large numbers as I saw many shapes pass in front of campfires. The shapes began to move farther away from us and I guessed that the Danes were massing men at another point in their lines, perhaps so they could mount a concerted assault at first light. "Would they attack now, during darkness?" I asked myself. I whispered my suspicions to Lachlan and the two deerstalkers, indicating we should hurry back to our camp in case the Norse had decided to mount a night assault. We whispered urgently to our guards to identify ourselves and made our way quickly to the tent that King Fergus was sleeping in. I saw that our nighttime adventure had taken us some four hours and it was already half past four in the morning. I paused at the entrance to the tent and then spoke quietly to try and wake the king. At last he woke, grumbling loudly and emerged into the light cast by a nearby fire. "mac Fergus, what are you at man? It's the middle of the night for god's sake!" I quickly explained what we had done and what we had seen. He looked eastwards for signs of the dawn, immediately realising the possible significance of my information. Fergus called for men to rouse the Dalriada host quietly and have them stand to arms. "My Lord," I said, "without chieftains the Danes are like to be at a major disadvantage. If we could break through and attack their host from the rear we could start a panic that could greatly affect the outcome of this battle." "It cannot be mac Fergus," he replied, "Constantine has ordered me to remain where I am until her orders otherwise. He tries to entice the Norse to leave their strong position on that hill. It has not worked for three days now and I did not think it ever would until you brought me this news. The Norse look to accommodate Constantine, but also to give him more than he bargained for! I at least am more than ready to wet my blade!" As we talked the sky was already starting to lighten and we heard an outcry from the Dane's camp. "It seems they have discovered my handiwork my Lord, already panic and confusion will exist. Let me take my Knapdale men and assail their flank. Send a runner to the High King to warn him of the Norse plan to attack and that we are going to strike their flank and rear." King Fergus chewed his lip, thinking furiously and glancing in the direction of the Norse positions. More noise could now be heard as men roused themselves and discovered their chieftains were dead. Fergus came to a decision and called for a runner, briefing him on what to tell the High King. "Okay mac Fergus, off with you and take me that flank as you have boasted. A horn blast before you attack to let me know you're in position so I can charge this front at the same time. Let us pray that the High King heeds my message and sees fit to abandon his waiting strategy so that he commits his forces likewise! Now, good luck man, go!" The Knapdale men were roused and waiting when the four of us returned. I climbed the same small rise I had used to spy on the Danes the previous evening and addressed them. "Men of Knapdale and Jura, hear me. The cursed Danes are waking to find their chiefs have all been slain, slain by myself, Lachlan and these others. There were loud cheers at this. "Now the Norse are leaderless, aye leaderless I say and they have also weakened this flank by moving men to their centre, perhaps to assail the High King. What say you we go over there and make their morning even worse by spilling their blood by the bucketful? What say you, I ask?" Their response was more of a scream than a cheer and I turned, raising my sword above my head, slashing it downward to halt horizontally and pointing directly at the Norsemen's camp. "Scotland!" I screamed as I started to run towards the Danes. "mac Fergus! Knapdale!" I heard all round me as the Knapdale men broke into a run too, working themselves into a frenzy. In front of us the Danes were in disarray, milling about as if confused. As they saw us sweeping towards them there was something of a rally and a thin front appeared, men holding swords, shields, axes. Our momentum carried us crashing into them and I only had time for one sweep with my sword, a Norseman falling at my feet, before I was through and into their rear. Here the Norsemen were in no sort of order and it quickly became a battle of man against man, the main Knapdale host still pressing me forward. I engaged a sturdy Dane and we traded sword strokes, using our shields to ward off the blows. Thrusting my targe forward, I unbalanced my opponent and struck him down with a slash of my sword. Too late I saw another Norseman come at me from the side, my unprotected side. I knew I could not correct my position before he struck and I was bracing myself for the blow when he flinched and then fell face down, Lachlan's dirk sticking in his back. I shouted my thanks to Lachlan and turned to find another opponent. This went on for perhaps half an hour and then I recognised a lessening in the numbers before me. I seemed to be making ground far easier and I watched as this giving of ground quickly turned into a full-blown retreat on the part of the Norsemen. They were casting aside their weapons and turning tail to flee, but the Knapdale men were showing no mercy, striking them down as they ran, turning the affair into a horrific slaughter. Looking around me I tried to take in the overall position of the battle for the first time. High King Constantine seemed to be having the worst of it, no doubt because the Danes had greater numbers in their centre to oppose him as I had suspected. King Fergus and the remaining Dalriada contingent had rolled-up the Danes before them and were angling in from the side to aid the High King. I called for the hornblower and told him to blow as I swung my sword over my head and pointed it at the Norsemen's rear. In all the bloody confusion and slaughter it was no surprise that some of the Knapdale men did not rally to the call but instead continued to pursue fleeing Danes. It was with only some three hundred therefore that I fell upon the foe once more, striking Vikings without end it seemed, Lachlan somehow able to avoid combat with others as he continued to watch over me. Despite the fact that we were a relatively small group, this further assault seemed to be the last straw for the Norsemen. Leaderless, their surprise attack thwarted, and now under attack from three sides with their own flank in obvious full retreat, the main host itself began to stream away northeastwards. I stood on the battlefield, leaning on my sword to catch my breath and it was there that King Fergus found me. "Scott, Scott, my good friend!" He cried. "Here is a mighty victory and not a little of it was won by your own hand man! Norse-slayer indeed I say!" "My thanks my Lord King but all this, this slaughter it is too much I think." "Tush man, every dead Dane is one less to fight at some time in the future, mind it!" "You are right my Lord, at least it is not for us. For myself I could kill again now, kill for some meat and a draught of ale to wash it down." The King burst into wild laughter at this and clapping his hand on my shoulder he directed me back with him towards our camp. ------- Chapter 12: Small beginnings The rest of the day was filled with men returning to the camp laden with booty from the Danes, gear and cattle aplenty. In the mid-afternoon King Fergus was summoned to appear before the High King himself and he ordered me to go with him. We rode to Constantine's camp and dismounted to bow before him. He was about five foot eight tall but broad shouldered and with thick, stocky legs. He turned to sit on a wooden chair that must have been carried with his host, a plain circlet of gold was on his head, glinting there on top of a mop of red hair. "Fergus!" He cried as we neared his chair, "well met man, we have won a mighty victory against these cursed Norsemen and I am led to believe your men played the largest part! Tell me of this slaying of the Norse chiefs." Fergus raised my arm aloft as he responded to the High King. "This man, my Lord, this man it was. With three others he slipped into the Norse camp under cover of darkness and killed the Danes as they slept. He it was also who discovered their plans for a surprise assault and urged me to let him and his hounds loose on the Norse flank. Not content with routing the flank it was he and his men who led the final charge that broke the backs of the main Dane host. Norse-slayer he is called by some. He is Scott mac Fergus, my new keeper of Knapdale." "All this from one man? And what a giant he is! Well, my royal thanks to you mac Fergus. These Norse have been a thorn in the side of my kingdom for too long. Sweet is the victory, sweet indeed!" Constantine bade us join him for refreshments and we were served plates of steaming beef, re-living what parts of the battle we had been aware of. The High King had not entered the fray himself, rather sitting on his horse and seeking to direct things before him so he was better able to describe how each phase of the battle had developed. He was fulsome in his praise of both me and the men from Knapdale. The beef was followed by beakers of whisky and the High King toasted Dalriada and Knapdale. When we returned at last to our camp I was feeling somewhat the worse for wear and found that most of my men were in a similar state. I wrapped my plaid around me and all but collapsed near a campfire, drifting off to sleep while still whispering 'tougher to survive'. Morning brought a sickening sore head and a share of the spoils. Lachlan suggested we leave the levies to make for home at their own pace. They were now laden down with booty and had a sizeable herd of cattle to drive before them too. We mounted up, around forty of us and took our leave of King Fergus before starting for Aird Driseig. Four days of riding took us back along the route we had come and close to home. We camped for the night on the shores of Loch Fyne, perhaps ten miles from the settlement. Lachlan and I sat by the campfire talking as the night fell. "Lachlan, why were Duncan's widow and daughter shunned by the men at Aird Driseig? It is not as if they are old or ugly, yet Bridhe has told me that they were on the verge of being cast out of the camp to fend for themselves." "Is it not plain to see my Lord? King Fergus would view any man who showed an interest in either of these women as making a play to take over the lordship. All know that he would have responded using his full force. So, none of us wanted to risk that." "That might explain why no-one took them in or offered marriage but why cast them out? That would have been close to a death sentence." "While those of us who are older can see the wisdom of avoiding these women and avoiding King Fergus' displeasure, there are younger men in the camp who do not think as clearly. These women are attractive and keeping them in the camp unattached would have been a sore temptation for young men with high spirits. Better to remove the temptation altogether. As for their ability to survive outside the camp, who cares, they are only women after all." Once more I was shocked at the lack of value this society placed on women. The fairer sex did indeed have a harsh life here. I vowed to myself that I would do my best to cherish the three women who were now under my care. The next morning we mounted up and continued our journey. Lachlan was surprised when I gave out a yelp and rode off into the wood we were passing through. The party halted and Lachlan rode over to see what I was about. "What is it my Lord?" "It is a Yew tree!" "So it is my Lord but why are you so excited by it?" "I have been searching for some for weeks now, I have something in mind that needs wood from the Yew." "You should have asked my Lord, there are many such around Aird Driseig." "Excellent!" I said as we re-joined the group and continued on. We arrived at the settlement around noon and Colmgil came out of the hall-house to greet us. "I did not expect your return so soon my Lord but I assume by the looks of you that things went well against the Norse?" "Indeed Colmgil, a great victory! The Danes completely routed and in the end a great slaughter. Knapdale played its part and we lost few men despite being in the thick of the battle." "He is modest Colmgil," said Lachlan, "our Lord it was who sowed the seeds for the entire victory!" Lachlan put his arm round Colmgil and they went into the hall so that he could cover the detail of the trip, our nighttime action and the battle itself. I smiled at the way the story was growing ever more heroic with each telling. Making my way up the hill, I headed for the house. When I opened the door Kirsty yelped with delight and flew into my arms. "Scott! Back so soon, how good, and safe, the Saints be praised!" "I couldn't bear to be parted from you any longer lassie. I swear I took my anger out on the Norse for separating us!" Bridhe and Fiona had been sitting at the table but stood when I entered. Bridhe now sported a wide smile and even little Fiona looked happy that I had returned safely. All three of them fussed over me and I found myself being spoiled terribly. Meats and ale were put in front of me, toast was made, cheese appeared and Kirsty would even have washed my feet if I had let her. I thoroughly enjoyed all the attention after having been away for nearly two weeks. Eventually my growing obsession with Yew forced me to abandon my pampering and go in search of Aird Driseig's bow maker. I found him in a workshop, working over one of the flat bows that were common in this time. "What is your name master bow maker?" I asked. "I am Iain mac Donald my Lord." He replied, slightly nervously. I warmed to the sound of my own surname from my time and sat to discuss my requirements with him. "I want you to fashion me a bow Ian mac Donald. It will be no ordinary bow however, not one such as that you are currently making. This bow will be two yards in length and must be made from the wood of the Yew tree." "But my Lord, that would make the bow taller than a man, well most men anyway." He faltered, nervous again having made reference to my size. I laughed and told him more of what I wanted. I explained that the heartwood of the tree should be on the inside of the bow and the sapwood on the outside. My memory told me that this was important as it took advantage of the natural properties of Yew wood. It was the fact that the heartwood was able to withstand compression while the sapwood was more elastic, allowing the bow to stretch that made the use of Yew so important for a bow of this size. He old me he thought he could have something made up within three or four days and I thanked him and set out for the hall. It was time I thought to review the lordship a little more thoroughly with Colmgil. There were elements of my knowledge that I was sure could help my lands be more productive and my business administration training was rearing its ugly head, pushing me to increase the income from the lordship. My discussions with Colmgil confirmed that the Knapdale lands were not producing enough. Wool seemed to be the staple 'export' with iron ore being the main 'import' to the lordship. My enquiries about numbers of cattle and sheep and the degree of arable farming convinced me that there was a lot of scope to improve things. One of Colmgil's main complaints was that much of the lordship's lands were too marshy to do anything with - grow grain or pasture sheep/cattle. I explained to him how we could dig drainage ditches to help improve land but he looked at me doubtfully. "Colmgil, where is the closest tract of marshy land?" I asked him. "You don't have to go far my Lord, there are lands like that all round." He replied. "Identify one such piece of land and we will put my idea into practice so I can show you it works for I see you doubt my wits!" Aird Driseig had a forge and a metal worker but they were both idle for long periods, iron ore in short supply. I wondered whether I could put the forge to use doing other things too such as making glass or pottery. Sand and clay were in plentiful supply close by and not only would these things be of use in my lordship; they would also have trade value too. As part of my studies I had toured a glass works and thought I could remember the rudiments of the process. My old lecturer would be proud of me as I thought of how I could 'sweat my assets' by having them in production as much as possible. Whisky production was another idea I had considered. In my time whisky was one of Scotland's biggest single exports and I was sure there would be a market out there for it. Wine too was something that might be possible. I had noticed that the temperature in this time period was notably hotter than the average I was used to in the twenty-first century. Was it warm enough to grow grapes? I wasn't sure but country wines could be made from all kinds of fruit and as a student I had gone through a 'home brewing' phase so knew the basics of fermentation, racking etc. Both of these would require barrels and I knew they existed in this time but I would need to find myself a cooper. Salt production was something I had already proved and a potential source of income. Colmgil and I discussed establishing salt making workshops in a number of the settlements and he agreed that this would not only be useful to provide Knapdale and Jura with this valuable commodity but that there was ample scope to trade it too. I thought this was probably enough for Colmgil to take for one session and I ended by reminding him that the Knapdale levies would be returning in a number of days and bringing our share of the spoil from the recent battle. He would need to find pasture for quite a few additional head of cattle, and soon. Bridhe and Fiona were not in the house when I returned but Kirsty was and she had prepared a banquet to celebrate my return. I couldn't believe the amount of food she had set out, more variety than I had yet come across in this time. There were meats, fish, some kind of green leaf vegetable (kale I think) as well as ale. "Pasta," I thought to myself, "that should be easy to make here. There are plenty of eggs and wheat flour." It was association I guess. I saw something and it sparked a thought or idea in my head as to something from my time that I knew enough about to create in this time. "I need to start making a list," I thought, "paper!" Another association entered my head. I should be able to produce paper easily enough surely. That was basic stuff and I was sure there was a supply of hemp around somewhere. I tried to stem the flow of ideas that seemed to have started and instead concentrate on the feast in front of me and the beautiful woman that had prepared it. We shared the food, feeding each other tasty bites as we stared into each other's eyes lovingly. I knew I was completely head over heels for Kirsty and it appeared as if my feelings were mirrored. "Where are Bridhe and Fiona?" I asked her. "Oh, they thought we might like to have some time on our own on your first night back. They used your name to commandeer one of the smaller houses for the night." "That's very thoughtful of them but it didn't seem to bother them before I went away." Kirsty gave me a funny look and shook her head as if she had been about to say something but then had changed her mind. We sat in front of the fire as darkness fell, happy to cuddle without speaking, letting our food digest before we retired for the night. When we did get to bed I wasted little time in kissing her soundly and dropping to taste her little honey pot. "Bees, honey, wax!" I thought before I could stop myself. More things to consider in this time. I returned my focus to Kirsty and breathed in the smell coming from her excited nether lips. I made love to her little pussy then; there are no other words to describe what I did. I kissed softly along the length of her slit, dwelling a little on her clitoris and then used my tongue to part her lips and lap up her sweet juices. Kirsty was continuously moaning her approval as I kept up my worship of her sex. At last she could take no more and she urged me to take her. "No more Scott, please, I have missed my staff-beast so much. Let me feel him in me, please Scott. Do not tease me this first time, put him in me now, fill me up Scott." She moaned breathlessly. I registered her use of the phrase 'this first time' and smiled at her assumption that we would be making love more than once this night. I slid up the bed and positioned myself between her legs to give her what she was asking for; feeling the extreme pleasure as my cock slid into her oh so tight sheath. There was no finesse now as almost two weeks of abstinence caught up with me and I reacted to the feel of her by ramming myself home and setting up a strong rhythm from the start. I knew I wouldn't last long but that that wouldn't matter given how wired my beloved was when it came to sex. In no time at all she was gasping out her climax and I felt my own come over me too, pulses of my jism firing deep within her. I withdrew from her gently and rolled over to lie by her side. She turned her head and took mine between her hands; planting little kisses all round my mouth. There was a satisfied glow around her and a smile playing on her lips. "Oh I have missed you and this beast so much my love," she said, "it was almost too much to bear. I am becoming used to having him around to please me and his absence was one of the worst things to deal with." We lay cuddled together for some minutes, unspeaking, and comfortable in our quiet companionship. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me. "Kirsty," I said softly in the darkness, "what was the look for earlier before we came to bed?" "What look?" "You seemed as if you were going to say something and then changed your mind." "Oh." She paused as if considering something. "You said that our making love didn't seem to bother Bridhe and Fiona before you left. I was going to tell you that in fact it did bother them. It bothered them so much that not only were they listening, they were watching us too and I think it got them very excited." "How did you find this out?" I asked. "Weeelllll, Fiona told me." She replied hesitantly. "What did she say? How did it come up in conversation between you?" Kirsty gave a deep sigh as if perhaps deciding to unburden herself. I grew the more intrigued by what was beginning to sound like an interesting tale. "I know you think Fiona is still but a girl. I have told you that she is already a woman and although she is shy, she is very curious about the ways of men and women together. After you had left Aird Driseig she continually gave me these funny looks and I couldn't understand why. One day, Bridhe announced that she was going to go out to the loch-side to cut rushes to make more baskets. Fiona didn't want to go with her and Bridhe took some food so she could spend longer at her task. "Fiona and I were left alone, perhaps for the first time since we came here and I decided to try to find out why she was giving me the funny looks. I asked her straight out and she blushed but instead of answering, she asked a question of her own. She asked me what it felt like to kiss a man and explained that she had never done so, at least not in passion." "And what did you tell her?" I asked, becoming excited at where this seemed to be going. "I didn't tell her anything, I took her in my arms and showed her instead." Kirsty replied. "Did you like kissing her my little minx? Were her lips softer than mine? Did she taste sweet as you played with her lips with your tongue?" "Ooohhh, yes Scott, she did. Her mouth was sooo soft and she moaned into mine as I kissed her, almost going limp in my arms." "Well, I'm guessing it didn't end there as you say she told you they had both watched us together." I dropped my hand to Kirsty's sex and began to slowly slide a finger up and down her lips, sweeping over her little nub. "Uh, uh, Scott, uh. No, it didn't end there. She told me that She and Bridhe had heard us making love and that they had tiptoed to the curtain to watch. Oh Scott, so good my darling, so good." "Don't stop your story." I told her as I continued to stimulate her clit. "Oh, uh, she said that at first she thought you were hurting me, was convinced that was the case when she saw the size of your staff as it thrust into me. Only when she heard my words did she realise my noises were from pleasure, not pain. She told me she felt herself getting wet as she watched us, fascinated by your staff. She watched you lick me too and that excited her even more." "Does this tale end there?" I asked her. "Oh Scott, I am close my love, so close." "Tell me everything." I told her as I kept her on the edge. "I, I kissed her again and asked her if she had imagined that it was her lying under you, her feeling your staff filling her up, her feeling your tongue licking her juices. She moaned and admitted she had lying awake thinking of nothing else. She let me push her back onto the bed and I pulled up her kilt to bare her sex to my eyes. Her face was flushed and her eyes almost begged me to lick her there. She wanted it so badly." "So, did you kiss her little kitten? Did you lick her juices?" "Ooohhhhh, yeeessssss, Scott. I licked her and kissed her button until she came on my tongue. She kept moaning your name as she came Scott, I am sure she was imagining it was your tongue, not mine. Then she turned the tables on me and she licked me to completion too." "Is that everything?" "No, uh, uh, we have done this three more times now and each time she cries out your name when she comes." I was so hard at her story, so horny, that I rolled on top of her and stroked my cock into her once more until we both came for the second time. As we lay together Kirsty had to have the last word. "So you see my love, I was right, she is a woman, with a woman's needs and she wants you badly. Do you still think she is too young?" ------- Chapter 13: Trade winds I spent the next few days with a squad of men and some picks and shovels, digging drainage ditches around a nearby field. The ditches quickly filled with water and we cut a channel down to the loch so that it could run off. The change in the field was marked. Although it was still marshy it was by no means as bad as it had been. I told Colmgil to give it a week or two and then to check and see how it looked. He was less sceptical now of my idea, having seen the amount of water that had seeped into the drains. While we were sitting having a lunch of cold meat and bread I asked Colmgil about bees. "Does anyone keep bees around here Colmgil?" "Keep bees, my Lord, isn't that something that churchmen do to pass the time?" "Churchmen might well be the answer Colmgil but see you, don't sneer. Bees are important little things and keeping them provides a source of honey and wax. Wax can be fashioned into candles and honey turned into mead, both valuable man." Colmgil's sneer disappeared as he mulled over what I had said. I could see the wheels turn in his head as he thought of the possibilities honey and wax might present. I believed he was starting to recognise that he had a lord full of ideas, most of them workable and that it behoved him to listen to me more carefully in future. We discussed how we might secure some bees and where they might go. I suggested that my friends the churchmen on Iona might be willing to spare some bees for us if we sent someone to get them and he agreed to make arrangements to do just that. The returning Knapdale men stopped off at Aird Driseig to pay their respects and to leave my share of the booty from Glen Almond. The men were still in high spirits after the victory and there was singing as they resumed their journey back to their own settlements. Colmgil fussed over where he was going to put the additional cattle, some sixty or so head of them. I left him to his task and returned to the house for something to eat. Bridhe and Fiona had returned to the house too after having let Kirsty and I have my first night back alone together. The three women had become almost a cottage industry in soap and basket making and I could see signs of their handiwork appearing all through the settlement. There was a fair stock of soap building up too, enough to be a nuisance and I decided that Aird Driseig needed a warehouse if I was going to follow through on all of my trade ideas. It might have been my imagination after Kirsty had told me her tale, but I was sure that Fiona was staring at me continuously and I began to feel like a mouse under the gaze of a cat. That very afternoon I sought out the builders and laid out my requirements for a storage warehouse. We picked out a vacant parcel of land within the settlement walls and marked out the dimensions together. The builder promised he would enlist some assistance and begin the construction at once. My next task was to visit the forge and discuss its possible additional uses with the metalworker. He confirmed for me that the forge was seldom in use and indeed he would welcome gainful employment in the absence of iron ore to work with. I shared my ideas with him and drew images of the various tools I thought we would need if we were going to start producing glass and pottery. My description of glass had him shaking his head in disbelief - turning sand into something that you could see through? - especially when I said it was produced by melting sand mixed with some lime. The idea that this molten sand could also be blown to produce vessels for drinking out of or eating from had him scratching his head. My reputation for new ideas must have been getting round the camp however because he agreed to use some of his precious iron to manufacture the tools I had described. We had just agreed that I would need to find a potter to 'throw' clay for pots as he could not turn his hand to that, when I heard a shout and looked round to see Iain mac Donald waving at me. He was waving something above his head and if I wasn't mistaken it looked like a long bow. Feeling excited at the prospect of being able to arm my men with this formidable weapon, I rushed over to him to look at it. The bow was almost a work of art in itself, beautifully finished; the lines sleek and smooth. Iain stood proudly displaying his work, a huge smile on his face. "Have you made arrows for it too Iain?" I asked him. "Of course, my Lord. What use is a bow without arrows!" "Then let us test it out man, come on!" Iain ran back into his workshop and emerged with a handful of feather fletched arrows. We raced out of the camp gates like two schoolboys (although Iain wouldn't know what a schoolboy was!) and he handed me the bow and a single arrow. I notched the bow and... and nothing. I couldn't draw the bow. It was just too hard to draw the string back and I did not have the strength. I tried again, using all of my effort, veins standing out on my forehead and neck but could only manage to pull the string back an inch or two. I handed the bow to Iain and he tried his luck but with similar results. It was clear that men would need to practice long and hard to develop the arm strength that would be necessary to use such a bow. I had believed it was the bows greater size that gave it its increased range and hitting power but I had obviously got that wrong. This long bow was at least a couple of hundred years ahead of its time here in Scotland and I was desperate to be able to get the benefit of using it in battle. "Iain, make me fifty more of these fine bows my friend. I will see what I can do about finding fifty men who will be able to use them!" He had been looking somewhat disappointed when his fine new bow appeared to have been found to be useless but by ordering fifty more I had restored his faith that the bow would be fired in anger. Returning to the forge I asked the metalworker to make me fifty dumbbells - I hefted one of his ingots to gauge the weight and suggested each dumbbell should weigh as much as two ingots. He quailed at the amount of iron this would take. I re-assured him the iron would eventually be returned to him to re-use. I approached Colmgil and handed him the bow, asking him to try and draw it. He couldn't manage it either. "Find me fifty men who can use a bow Colmgil. These fifty men are to train every morning from now on with bows like this. They will also exercise their arm and shoulder with a weight I am having the smith prepare and when they are finished these fifty men will be a fearsome weapon against our foes." Kirsty and I spent a pleasant week travelling round the lordship, meeting my captains and lieutenants and agreeing sites for salt and more soap production. I was also keen to encourage my people to rear more horses. These were in short supply and I had it in mind that in future my host would be completely horsed. Several of the settlements had a stock of horses and access to sufficient land to rear more. The land here was also marshy so I took some time to work at each place to show them how to drain the soil to improve it. While I was doing this Kirsty was demonstrating how to make the soap to women in the camps, leaving instructions on how to use it and how much I expected to be shipped onwards to Aird Driseig. We crossed from Kilberry to Jura and set similar arrangements in place there. The locals fed us well on venison and fish and our ideas were well received, news of our plans having travelled ahead of us. I was intrigued by the names of the paps of Jura, in particular the 'mountain of gold'. I wondered where this name had come from and whether there was a chance that the mountain did actually have a seam of gold somewhere. The locals assured me that they had searched and searched but that there was no sign of the precious metal. Our return to Aird Driseig was leisurely and we enjoyed ourselves, taking in the beauty of the land and basking in the friendship of the people of the lordship. I was impressed by the progress already made on the construction of the warehouse but as we rode through the gates, Colmgil came rushing towards us. "My Lord, King Fergus sent a message some days ago commanding you repair to Dunadd with Fiona nic Duncan to celebrate your marriage." I turned to Kirsty expecting an ab-reaction to this news but she was beaming at the prospect and I realised then that I would never understand women. The camp seemed to be most animated by this news, almost exited for me at the forthcoming nuptials. We made our way to the house to find out how Bridhe and Fiona were reacting. Bridhe was excited and very pleased that her daughter's future was going to be formalised by the marriage. Fiona seemed a little more concerned but still seemed quite positive about the prospect of marriage to me. Her close scrutiny of me over the last few days was really starting to worry me. It was clear she had plans and that they included me and some alone time. I remained determined that I would remain true to Kirsty, despite the marriage. Over thirty of us made up the bridal party that rode out of Aird Driseig that afternoon and completed the relatively short journey to Dun Add. King Fergus had already left for Iona we were informed and he expected us to follow on behind him as soon as we arrived. So, it was off to Crinan once more to find a boat waiting to take us over the water to the beautiful isle with its white sand. I was growing increasingly tense as we approached Iona. This whole marriage thing was a sham so far as I was concerned but would Fiona expect something more. Kirsty's acceptance of it all was upsetting and her inclusion in the wedding party should have been awkward but clearly wasn't as she spent all of her time with Bridhe and Fiona, planning and organising what Fiona would wear and goodness knows what else. I stood alone in the prow of the ship, trying hard not to dwell too much on the fact that soon I would be a married man, a married man with every intention of committing adultery as soon after the wedding as possible. King Fergus and the Abbot met us on the beach. "Good, welcome Scott my friend. A fair day and as fine a setting as a man could wish for in which to enter into blessed partnership. Where is your beautiful bride?" "She comes my Lord, with her 'attendants', they have spent the entire crossing making their plans." I said, my growing annoyance evident. "Tush man, what are you getting upset about? 'Tis a day to rejoice surely?" "I have already explained my Lord, I do not seek this marriage. I am more than happy with the partner I already have and do not see the need for another!" "Only by marrying her can you secure your claim to the lordship Scott. It must be done I'm afraid. In any event she looks bonnie enough so you seem to be getting a good deal!" The Abbot himself conducted the wedding ceremony. King Fergus acted as my Groomsman and we stood before the altar, waiting for the bride to join us. Fiona appeared, led by Kirsty no less, and I swallowed at how she looked. The womenfolk had obviously been plotting and scheming for some time at Aird Driseig because they had produced a spectacular white dress from somewhere and Fiona was now dressed in it. Her brown hair was tied back and a ring of white flowers circled her crown. Her green eyes were flashing with excitement. Beside her Kirsty was beaming with happiness too, almost as if it was she who was about to be married. I shook my head at the surreal picture. Never can a groom have looked so grim while taking his vows! Fiona and I repeated the vows after the Abbot, declaring our eternal devotion to each other, me stumbling a little over this blatant falsehood on my part. At last the Abbot declared us man and wife in the eyes of god and all in attendance. I stooped and kissed Fiona softly on the lips as a new husband is supposed to do and she all but swooned, a goofy look coming over her face. I had been informed that tradition demanded the groom take his new wife to his chamber and the most senior men in attendance at the wedding should accompany them to witness the defloration and consummation of the marriage. I had prevailed upon King Fergus to dispense with this part of the occasion, using the girl's age and the distance to my bed as arguments against it. Instead we enjoyed another great feast that the churchmen had prepared before Kirsty, Bridhe, Fiona and I slipped off to the accommodation the Abbot had set aside for me. If Fiona was expecting me to join her that night she was disappointed as I took my place next to Kirsty as usual. I found myself in the strange situation of having the person I now looked upon as my life partner whispering furiously to me that I should be with another woman. "Scott, she is your wife now, this is her wedding night. You should be with her! How can you do this to the poor girl? She has been thinking of naught else for weeks, this will crush her. You are a beast, Sir." "Kirsty, I have told the three of you all along that I might go through with the marriage because the King has ordered it but that I would not be sharing a bed with Fiona. You are my partner my dear, it is you that I love and would share myself with." Her tone softened at these words and she kissed me but then repeated her assertion that it was my duty to spend the night with Fiona. I turned over and tried to get to sleep, upset at this, our first real argument. King Fergus was not a man for sitting around and the next morning he made it clear he was heading back to the mainland almost at once. I decided that we would join him rather than be stranded here on Iona. The previous evening I had managed to speak to the Abbot and had raised the subject of keeping bees. He himself found it a relaxing and profitable pastime and he confirmed that the island would be able to spare me some bees if I wanted them. I arranged that they could be picked up when I sent men to collect the two remaining Viking longships that had been repaired and now floated in the bay. The crossing back to Crinan was uncomfortable. The June weather was fine and the sun shone but the three women were churlish and gave me very frosty looks, keeping apart from me for the entire journey. The King looked at them and then at me with bemusement. "Gods man, if this is your wedding party, you have my sympathy. If it were me I think I would be paddling one or all three of them to teach them their place!" I shrugged my shoulders and took up my place alone in the prow. We parted company with King Fergus and the frosty treatment from the women continued for the remainder of the horseback journey back to Aird Driseig. Lachlan, Colmgil and the others could sense and see that something was wrong and they kept mercifully quiet as we rode. The three women made their way straight to the house when we arrived back at the settlement and Lachlan and Colmgil joined me in the hall-house. I called for some uisge beatha; a lot of uisge beatha and the three of us sat there until we were very drunk. I awoke with my head slumped on the table, a head that was pounding viciously to let me know I had drunk far too much whisky. There was no sign of either of my two friends and as I carefully sat upright I could see I was alone in the hall-house. Night had fallen and the camp was in darkness, just enough moonlight to be able to pick out houses and workshops. I had no intention of heading to my bed as I knew I would be in for more of the same treatment from Kirsty so I wrapped my plaid around myself and lay down on the floor of the hall, eventually falling back off to sleep. Daylight brought no real improvement to my headache, indeed the morning sunlight made things worse and I screwed my eyes to try and reduce the pain. A man placed a beaker of ale on a nearby table and he tapped a small amount of some yellowy crystals from a pouch into the beaker. "Drink this my Lord, it will remove the worst of the soreness from your head." I sat up and took the drink, smelling something vaguely familiar about what he had put into the ale. I couldn't quite place it and sipped the ale slowly, willing my queasy stomach to accept it. Within half an hour or so the headache had all but gone. Whatever had been put in the ale seemed to have done the trick and I would need to investigate what it was at some point. For now I decided I needed to get up and about, keep myself busy and out of the women's way. My first task of the morning was to visit Iain mac Donald. He had finished eleven more long bows and I could see men working with them, trying to draw the bows but so far with little success. Another group of men was exercising their arms with dumbbells and Iain explained that they worked for an hour with the weights and then swapped over with the other group so they could work with the bows and vice versa. He confirmed the men were working for some two hours each day and as quickly as he could make a bow and the smith a dumbbell, another man would join the groups. I was pleased that they seemed so enthusiastic and committed about their training and hoped I would begin to see results soon. I visited the forge next and found the smith hard at work making more dumbbells. I told him what the men were doing and that their approach to their training meant that we would only need twenty-five dumbbells rather than fifty. This cheered the smith up considerably. He told me that he had found several men who could throw a pot and they had discussed use of the forge to fire the clay. They planned to try it out once he was finished making the dumbbells. I left the camp and made my way to the first field we had tried to drain. I was pleased to find the land in much better condition, so good in fact that Colmgil already had some cattle grazing on it. I could see men working all around to put drainage channels in to help improve further areas so it was clear that Colmgil no longer doubted my idea. I sat down to watch the men and let my mind drift, following the run of water as it made its way down to the loch. "Running water!" I thought to myself. "Could we make some pipe out of clay and run water into the camp? Could we heat it somehow? A bath! Now that would be something. A water-wheel! Now that would give me access to some power. How could I use that?" I roused myself and strolled back to the camp, stopping to check on the development of my warehouse. It was almost complete, only some further weatherproofing required before goods could be stored in it. Establishing trading partners and trade routes was an important aspect of all of this that I had not turned my mind to as of yet. My smith got his iron ore from Crinan and the wool from the lordship was taken there too so there was obviously some established trade already and probably sea based. My first approach therefore might be to go to Crinan and discover as much as I could about the trade there and how I could expand it to include Knapdale. Trading with my near neighbours was also possible I supposed, but for what? Soap didn't sound like something that the average Scot was going to want that badly. Perhaps the womenfolk might once they had tried it - so, maybe some free samples to generate interest? I decided I needed to think more on developing some of the products I thought were feasible and also about marketing opportunities that would help me establish a market. When I found myself in the hall-house I searched out Lachlan and asked him to organise men to sail to Iona to recover the two additional longships and to bring me some bees. I had managed to pass most of the day without going to the house and knew I couldn't put it off much longer, not if wanted to sleep in a bed this night. The room was quiet when I entered, the three women hardly glancing in my direction. So, I was still in the bad books then. I snagged some food and sat down to eat it before washing up and retiring for the night. It was some time before I felt Kirsty join me in the bed but in the dim light I could see that she had kept her back to me. "This is ridiculous!" I thought to myself. "How did I get in the position where my mate had fallen out with me because I wouldn't sleep with someone else, the same mate who had attended on another woman as that woman was wed to me? Was I missing something here, was Kirsty trying to get rid of me? Fuck it! Women!" ------- Chapter 14: Vikings return The surly atmosphere in the house drove me out early the next morning. I determined that I might as well ride to Crinan to begin my investigation into the existing trade routes rather than leave myself available for further frosty treatment. I was encouraged to find out that my tributes of salt to King Fergus were already in much demand apparently with his trade partners. The trade seemed to be with merchant captains who sailed from Roman dominated Gaul, Denmark (incongruous given our trouble with the Norse) and with the Angles and Saxons of England. A merchantman happened to be docked at Crinan when I was there and I tried to persuade him to add a stop at Aird Driseig in future, enticing him with the prospect of even more salt being available. He indicated some interest and I thought I had probably achieved as much as I was going to. Aird Driseig held a number of shocks/surprises for me on my return. First of all, tragedy had struck. I knew something was wrong as soon as I rode into the camp. Men looked away from me, glancing up at my house and I realised something was wrong, something had happened. Fearing the worst, I urged my horse up the hill and jumped from its back, rushing into the house. No one was to be seen in the main part of the house but I could hear sobbing behind the curtain that separated the sleeping area we had added for Bridhe and Fiona. I strode over to this and whipped the curtain aside to find Kirsty sitting with her arms around Fiona, holding her head to her chest and stroking her hair. Fiona it was who was tearful. "What's wrong?" I demanded. "What has happened?" Kirsty looked at me. All the frostiness was gone and in its place was a deep sadness in her eyes. She explained haltingly that Bridhe was dead, drowned somehow while out gathering rushes. No one knew how she had got into trouble at the loch-side doing something she had done countless times before but she had. Fiona had found her, having gone to look for her mother to tell her it was time to eat. She had found her face down, floating in the shallow waters of Loch Gilp. My heart went out to the achingly beautiful young girl. First her father and now her mother, both dead within the space of a few weeks. Such terrible loss, tragedy indeed. I sat down on the bed beside her and I too wrapped my arms around her to try and comfort her. We sat there the three of us for some time before Kirsty indicated that Fiona had cried herself to sleep. We laid her down gently and covered her over before leaving the sleeping area quietly. "Scott, I'm so sorry I have been angry with you." Kirsty whispered to me as she hugged me in the main part of the house. "I shudder to think that something like this could have happened to you and I could lose you. I realise now that our time together is precious and not to be wasted with arguments and moods." "There, there lassie. It's okay, I know you love me and I love you too." I said as I rubbed her back, holding her to me tightly. "Fiona has been distraught. She has suffered much through your rejection of her and now the loss of her mother and my own news on top of that have really hit her hard." "Your own news?" I queried on hearing these words. "Scott, I am with child. Your child grows within me." She looked up at me then, perhaps a little hint of concern on her face as she didn't know how I would react to this news. "In the midst of all this tragedy here is a wonder." I said, a huge smile creasing my face. "Not my child princess, our child, made together from our love. And if it inherits even half of its mother's beauty it will be blessed indeed." Kirsty was relieved that I had responded positively to her being pregnant. She managed a small smile herself. "You must understand why this news has added to Fiona's sense of loss." She whispered to me. "Losing both of her parents, suffering your rejection and then finding out I am with child..." Her voice tailed off for a second. "In many ways it would perhaps have been better if she it was who was with child." Again she raised her eyes to look at me; almost beseeching me to do something it seemed. "She is your wife Scott and now she has been left all alone in this world. Will you not cherish her, give her something to live for?" I didn't want to open this argument again. My thoughts on this matter had not been changed with these latest events and I knew if I said so we would be at odds again. Instead I simply rubbed Kirsty's back and held my peace. "I must check on her again." She said, freeing herself from my arms and returning to Fiona's sleeping area. I left the house and sat on the grass outside, realising that someone had taken care of my horse for me. It was strange how events in my own life and household already seemed to have a marked effect on the entire camp. Everywhere men and women were subdued as they went about their business. I looked down the loch, seeing that my two longships now floated close to the shore, four other smaller boats there too. Some kind of jetty would need to be constructed I thought, trying to think about something else other than the tragedy within the house Kirsty's words preyed on my mind. Fiona was indeed forlorn and alone and I could do something about that. I decided that I could show her more attention, cherish her, as Kirsty said but not in the way she meant. I could certainly spend time with the girl, show her more kindness, make sure she felt part of our family rather than an outsider. It would be like adoption I thought. I felt better for having sorted that out in my head. Further down the hill I could see my would-be long bow archers at their daily practice, half using the bows, half using the weights. The group seemed to have grown slightly again and I assumed more bows and weights had been produced. My thoughts were drifting again. There were several issues that had been running round in my thinking for a little while now. Labour was severely limited. With all the ideas I was trying to get off the ground I was going to run into a problem given the number of men I had available to me in the lordship. Even manning these two longships would take the entire male population of this settlement. My trips to Dunadd, Crinan and Iona had also identified that my neighbours were not picking up on my ideas. I had seen no signs that there was any salt production or land drainage as there were in Knapdale. This surprised me. Why was there no enthusiasm for something that was obviously profitable? Why was I so keen to improve things but others weren't? I came to the conclusion that the part of my twenty-first century upbringing that made the most difference was education. It was education that was required so that the importance and impact of all these ideas was clearer to the people. I knew that I wouldn't be around forever and if I was to leave a lasting legacy I needed to make sure that I left behind me others who would take my ideas forward, build on them. But education would need teachers, teaching materials, would take time. What was my own motivation? Was I doing all this for personal gain? For the greater good of my country? Both? Or simply to survive in this time as I had begun? How could I increase the number of men available to me? Would success in trading, improvements in lifestyle, resources, lead to a natural migration to my lands as seemed to be the case at other points in history. Did people move, uproot themselves in search of betterment? "Too many questions, you're getting too deep here Scott my boy." I thought to myself. "At least you can make the most efficient and effective use of the people you do have and try to take forward the ideas as best you can. One thing that might help would be to establish a site here in Knapdale for the Celi De (Keledei), the vassals of god. I wonder if the Abbot of Iona could help me establish a monastery here. That could help establish a place for education." I looked up to see that Kirsty had come to the door and was watching me quietly. "How is she?" I asked. "Still sleeping. It is perhaps the best thing for her just now. You were deep in thought Scott, what troubles you?" "All this my love." I swept my arm across the scene before us to indicate I meant the lordship and everything in it. "I worry that my ideas will not make a lasting difference unless I can convince others to take them up." She sat beside me, leaning against my side. "I have every faith in you my Lord, you will achieve great things, already you make a huge difference." I smiled at her use of 'my Lord'. "I promise I will spend more time with Fiona." I said. "I will give her more of my attention if possible, help her feel she is part of our family." The remainder of that summer in Knapdale and Jura passed peacefully and relatively productively. Much of the time of the lordship's men was taken up with harvesting crops to provide grain and winter foodstuff for animals but some progress was still made on my projects. The archers were steadily improving their abilities and although they were still not able to fully draw the long bows, the men were aware they were getting better and so remained enthusiastic. Trading ships had begun to call at Aird Driseig and salt as well as pottery was in great demand. It was through these that I saw my first coinage in this time. The coins were small and looked like copper and silver, roman made by the looks of them and the names stamped on their surfaces. I had no reference points from which to estimate the value of these, indeed, given I had not come across any before I was doubtful whether they had any value at all. Accordingly I wasn't willing to accept them as payment for Knapdale's goods, instead bartering for other goods in return. The goods the merchantman had on offer were not that exciting however and my plans for extending trade began to look under threat from the outset. If Aird Driseig was capable of producing everything that the traders had to offer and the coinage was useless what would I be trading for? This came as something of a shock and quite depressed me. I was able to secure some iron ore, wine and some furniture but other than that what we were producing ourselves was of more immediate use and of a higher quality than anything they had to offer. The traders were quite distraught too as their eyes gleamed at what we had to offer but dimmed when I refused to accept what they had to exchange. My refusal of their coins also left them frustrated and empty handed. I advised them to find other commodities before they returned if they wanted to get more of our goods. I suggested things such as barrels and vines as things that we might be interested in. Barrels were something they seemed to have in abundance and I agreed to trade for some of them. My bees had also prospered and honey and candle production was coming on apace. The camp would be well provided for over the coming winter. Another innovation I had introduced was trawl fishing. This had sprung from my desire to free up labour to take forward other projects. When I witnessed one of my boats setting out one morning with twenty or so men on it, I asked what they were doing. When it was explained they were going out fishing and their methods were described to me I knew there was a far more effective way of doing it, with fewer men. Once I had explained the principles behind the trawling approach the fishermen set to with a will to make bigger nets, buoyancy floats and longer lead ropes to lower the nets. On their first attempt they described how they had to throw some of the fish back as there were too many to land on the boat. I had organised distribution so that all of our settlements were kept well supplied and also began to send a regular supply of fish to Dunadd as part of my tribute and lordship dues to King Fergus. One side effect of the new approach was that we had more variety of fish too, the nets going deeper and catching fish that the shallower casting had not reached before. Other small improvements had been implemented throughout the lordship too. I had encouraged all settlements to boil all the water that was for consumption, I had already introduced the use of soap and I had also now instituted a simple pasteurisation process for milk. I had shelved other ideas for the moment through a lack of labour but would return to them later. My relationship with Fiona had grown too. I had made sure both Kirsty and I spent more time with her and included her in activities wherever possible. She had slowly recovered from the death of her mother but still lacked the vitality she had some months before. I worried about her mental state and showed her plenty of affection without going too far. So, things were going along not too bad, very positive on some fronts, hopeful on others but in the balance with regard to trade. I should have known that trouble was just round the corner and the corner was turned just as autumn was beginning and the Viking hosting season was all but over. It may have been that my reputation had kept the Danes from raiding in my territory up until now but that all came to a halt when a messenger arrived at Aird Driseig to advise that the settlement at Kilberry had been attacked and sacked badly. I was faced with a difficult situation. It was important that the Danes were taught a lesson, a harsh lesson that would send a message to any others with similar ideas. My problem was that I didn't know the strength of the Norse force and although I could man the two longships I had here, that would leave Aird Driseig without a defending force. One longship would normally have been inadequate for what required a 'shock and awe' response. There was also the little difficulty of finding the perpetrators, they could be anywhere. "Who would be a Lord?" I asked myself as I thought furiously of how to respond. The lordship would be looking to me for leadership and my actions and their outcomes would affect how my people thought of me as their lord. I made up my mind and called to Lachlan to man one of the longships and round up twenty of my trainee long bow archers. I quickly discussed with Colmgil arrangements for defending the camp if it was attacked, employing some of the same defences I had used at Iona and replicated here. I dashed to the house and grabbed my gear. The girls were immediately concerned for me as they knew I was sailing into almost definite danger. I received tight hugs from both of them but our parting had to be necessarily short. Men were rushing to get themselves armed and ready to set sail and I joined them, stopping only to order some additional items to be loaded on board the ship. The camp came as one to see us set off, faces grim as they knew into what we sailed, many of them probably questioning my wisdom in leaving more that half my available force behind, but thankful for the security it gave them. We sailed down Loch Gilp and into loch Fyne proper, having to travel further south to pass down the Kilbrannan Sound, between Arran and Kintyre before swinging northwards, passing the isle of Gigha. The entire journey was probably over sixty miles and took us three days, one more than we could have managed it overland because of the need to circumnavigate Kintyre. During the journey I had been in close conversation with my long bow archers, questioning them as to the distance they thought they could now shoot their arrows and on how accurate they felt they were able to be. I thought that the adrenaline of battle might give them a little additional strength but the fact that they believed they could already shoot over one hundred yards was a little comfort. My rage began to build as we neared Kilberry. The utter devastation was apparent from some way off and it struck deep at my heart. These people depended on me for their safety and I had let them down. I watched as the burned buildings came closer, my pet projects of salt production and pottery in dire ruin along with the houses of my people. We halted briefly and once it became clear who we were some of the survivors ventured out to give details of the raid and, most importantly the direction the Danes had sailed after they had completed their bloody work. There had been four dragon prowed longships involved and I could see the crew around me blanch at the prospect of taking on such a force with only the one ship we were on. I stared at my men, daring them to challenge me and my determination to confront the Vikings. None did. We followed them westwards, passing through the Sound of Islay and on towards Colonsay. We were now some four days behind the Norse and I knew we would have to be lucky to find them, perhaps my men were thinking it would be unlucky! We passed Mull and Iona and sailed onwards in the direction of the islands of Coll and Tiree, more hopeful on my part than through any plan or sense of where the Danes might have gone. I was beginning to give up hope myself as we approached Tiree when we spied masts in the distance emerging from Gott Bay. Forgetting myself for a moment, I pulled the binos from my pack and raised them to my eyes. Yes! There were four longships, definitely Norse and most probably the same ones who had attacked Kilberry. It soon became apparent that the Danes had spotted our own mast and they swung in our direction, confident in the superiority of their numbers. We were now on a head-on collision course. I made my final preparations, passing through the men on the ship and making clear what I wanted of them. As we closed with the Danes, I was pleased to see they had grouped themselves so they were two abreast, probably to undertake the classic manoeuvre of aiming one ship on either side of ours in an attempt to shear our oars before the second group of two would board and destroy what remained of us after that. I screamed at my oarsmen to remind them of how important it would be to raise their oars quickly when I signalled and lower them again before we lost too much momentum. The waiting was the worst part. I stood, watching the longships getting inexorably closer, unable to do anything, my anger a tangible thing in my gut. Individual faces on the Norse ships began to become clear, the anticipation on them obvious as they felt we were lambs to the slaughter. At the very last moment, before their bows collided with our oars, I shouted for my men to raise their oars. As the longships passed on either side of us my men rushed to throw clay jars of oil onto both of them and I smiled as I saw them smash open and spill over the men and timbers of each. My shout of 'down oars' had our oarsmen rowing frantically once more and we then repeated the manoeuvre with the second pair of Norse longships. Once past them, more clay jars of oil thrown and smashed on their decks, I again urged our rowers to surge forward before telling the helmsman to swing us round full circle. My by now evil grin got wider as I watched the Norse dousing themselves and their decks with jugs of water to try and clear the oil. I knew that this would heighten the effect I was looking for. I raced to our own prow and addressed the long bow archers. "Now it's your turn for glory you beautiful bastards. There they are, less than your range of one hundred yards and they are soaked in oil. I have split you into four teams of five each. Light your arrows and set fire to them for me, now!" The arrows tips were wrapped in oil soaked linen and the archers used a lit brazier on our deck to light them before taking aim and flighting them towards each of the longships. I held my breath to see whether this would work. If it didn't we wouldn't survive long in the face of the four Viking ships. Ah, but it worked like a dream and within minutes all four were blazing furiously, their occupants screaming, some leaping over the side to avoid the inferno. My own men looked on with sickened fascination as they watched the Danes burn before their eyes. "So perish all who dare to assail Knapdale!" I screamed across the water unnecessarily. It was complete and utter victory, annihilation and I rejoiced at what I hoped was a lesson imparted. Our return to Air Driseig was not so much victorious as grimly satisfied. We had avenged our dead and overcome amazing odds in doing so. I could see the respect I had gained in the eyes of the crew for coming up with a way to beat such a superior force and I guess my reputation as a Norse-slayer had just been raised a notch or two. I'm sure the description of our success was already being exaggerated minutes after we made landfall but I didn't linger to share in it, instead climbing the hill to see Kirsty and Fiona. They both jumped on me, tears flooding their eyes as first one and then the other declared their joy at my safe return and their love for me. I looked askance at Fiona at this and Kirsty took the opportunity of piling in on her favourite subject. "Yes Scott. Fiona loves you too and has suffered just as much as I have worrying about your safety. Possibly even more so as she has suffered so grievously by already having lost two who were close to her recently. Another would have been too much perhaps." "Is this true? You love me?" I asked Fiona. She answered by throwing herself at me once more. "So be it. I can only avoid a beautiful woman throwing herself at me for so long. But remember both of you that you asked for this!" ------- Chapter 15: Consummation Fiona had pressed herself tightly against me and I could feel her little breasts against my chest. I looked over her head at Kirsty and saw she had a huge grin on her face. I swear I will never figure women out! Kirsty nodded to me, encouraging me to go further and I raised Fiona's head to give her a toe-curling kiss. She began moaning almost immediately and was rubbing herself against me, making my cock spring to attention in appreciation. I walked backwards slowly, leading her with me and managed somehow to navigate both of us round the curtain to the bed I shared with Kirsty. When the backs of my knees collided with the bed, I eased myself onto the bed and pulled Fiona on top of me. She thrust herself against the hard lump that was pushing out my kilt. "Fiona darling, I'm not going to let you back out now, I'm going to take you whether you want it or not." I told her. In answer she rolled to the side and her hand dropped to slide over my hard-on. Her eyes were full of excitement and perhaps a little fear but she was obviously determined too. I kissed her again, letting my tongue gently push into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. She tasted like a young girl should, sweet, oh so sweet. I felt movement on the bed and looked over to see that Kirsty had joined us, pulling herself up behind Fiona. Her hand appeared under Fiona's arm and I watched as she cupped Fiona's breast, pinching her nipple outwards. "Mmmmmmmmmm." Moaned Fiona at the dual stimulation she was now receiving. Kirsty opened Fiona's blouse and for the first time I was treated to a view of her treasures. She had small breasts, perhaps only a B cup in modern measurement but they sure looked inviting and my mouth was watering. Kirsty was cupping one breast and almost seemed to be offering it up for me to kiss and suckle. I decided to take up the offer and dropped my head to take the already hard nipple between my lips. "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Was Fiona's only response, a girl of few words suddenly it seemed. I continued to tongue and gently nibble on her nipple and dropped my hand towards the bottom of her kilt. I was surprised to find that Kirsty had beaten me to the draw and was already slowly rubbing Fiona's perfect little pussy lips, spreading her juices, teasing her. "Oh dear, what are you doing to my wife, Kirsty?" I asked. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were playing with my wife's pussy, getting it all hot and juicy so it's ready for my staff. And I must be dreaming because it looks like beautiful little Fiona here is enjoying it, now that would never happen would it? She wouldn't let another woman play with her kitten while her husband was lying beside her, would she?" The combination of what Kirsty and I were doing to her and the sexy talk alone were enough to have Fiona exploding like a firecracker. "Mmmmmmmmmmm, uh, uhhhhhhh, yeeeessssssssssss, Scott!" She cried. I began to wonder whether every woman in this time line was so hot. I had barely sucked on her tittie and spoken to her and she had already come once. Maybe Kirsty had been right all along; maybe I did need more than one woman to cope with my perfectly normal twenty-first century expectations of sex when applied to ninth century girls. It was time to drink some of Fiona's fragrant juices I thought and I released her nipple, kissing a trail over her stomach towards her patch of brown fur. I pushed her onto her back proper and let my tongue lap over her pussy lips, tasting her, thrusting into her tight opening, at last lashing her clit and grazing it gently with my teeth. I had her on the verge again and stopped licking her sweet nectar to pull myself over her, belatedly ready to consummate our marriage. Kirsty positioned me at Fiona's opening and I slowly pressed forward, feeling her tense up as my cock-head popped through her vaginal opening. I paused to let her get used to the size of me and then pushed again, gaining some further ground. I didn't feel any restriction that would have indicated a hymen but she was so tight she couldn't be anything other than a virgin and it took me a few minutes of patient progress before I was fully seated within her. When I began to piston gently in and out of her it felt as though I was bedding a wildcat. Her nails tore at the skin on my back and I firmly nipped one of her nipples in a subtle message for her to lay off a little, which she did. Once more it didn't take long before Fiona was screaming out her joy, her pussy clenching even more firmly on me as she rode out another strong orgasm. I slipped from her and flipped her over onto her knees; ramming myself back home into her now stretched and still well lubricated channel. In this position I was able to sink even deeper and she began to wail as I stroked into her harder and faster than before. I watched in surprise as Kirsty slid herself in front of Fiona, presenting herself for Fiona to use her mouth on her sex. "Eat me Fifi, eat me please?" She pleaded. The use of the nickname suggested that these two had become even more familiar than Kirsty had already described to me and that was confirmed somewhat when Fiona dropped her mouth onto Kirsty's pussy without hesitation. Don't let anyone fool you into thinking that threesomes are easy to co-ordinate and everything fits together easily. It doesn't work that way believe me, and we found it difficult to establish a rhythm that allowed me to stroke effectively into Fiona while she used her mouth and tongue on Kirsty. Eventually we managed it though but not much longer after we had, Fiona was coming again, abandoning Kirsty as she moaned through a third powerful climax in only some ten or so minutes. I pulled out of Fiona as gently as I could and let her slide sideways onto the bed, shuffling up the bed on my knees to slip my cock into Kirsty's welcoming slit. Having been just left high and short of climax Kirsty responded vigorously to me stretching her with my cock. She was hunching herself up to meet each of my strokes from the outset and I could read the signs that she too was not far from coming. I concentrated on the sensation of the friction I was felling on my staff, willing myself to speed up my own response so that I could finish with her. I felt a hand stroking my ball-sack and looked down to see Fiona lying on the bed, her head inches away from where Kirsty and I were joined, her eyes riveted on the action. She stuck out her tongue, tentatively and ran it over first my balls and then my cock as it withdrew from Kirsty on each stroke. That was just enough to send me over the edge and I felt myself launch my juice deep into Kirsty's already occupied womb. After we had regained our breath I lay between the two naked girls and, with an arm round each warm and curvy body, wondered why I had resisted this for so long!!! I only had a few weeks to enjoy our new arrangement when a summons arrived from King Fergus asking me to raise my men to join him in a raid against the Saxons. It seemed that the High King, buoyed by success against the Danes was now bent on a punitive raid into Northumbria to teach the warring Saxons a lesson. The summons gave me barely five days to meet with Fergus at Oban and I decided the quickest way would be to gather my men and sail there using the longships. I had learned my lesson after Kilberry and now had the ships stationed and hidden at Taynish on Loch Sween. That meant I could reach them overland and quickly set to sea into the Sound of Jura without having to make the long trip round Kintyre. Messengers were sent out to raise the lordship's men and I elected to mount the long bow archers, now up to the full fifty on available horses to ride all the way to Oban. Lachlan and I set out with some eighty or so men to march to Loch Sween. We left only a small force to protect Aird Driseig and I worried about Kirsty and Fiona but there was little more I could do over and above the defences I had already installed. I had been working with some of my men over the last few weeks and had a few new tricks up my sleeve that this trip might give me an opportunity to try out. I was running through these as we marched across Knapdale to Dunrostan, a small camp on the east shore of Loch Sween. We quickly used one of my new ideas to summon the longships - small pieces of glass flashing the sun's rays across the water to signal our presence. Several small currachs rowed over, towing a longship behind them and we embarked on it, leaving word for those from Ormsary and Achahoish to man the other boat and follow us to Oban. One and a half days sailing brought us to Oban, a bigger 'port' even than Crinan. Oban was based in the Lordship of Lorne and I had already met its lord, Angus while riding with King Fergus from Crinan to Dunadd. He had been with the King along with the ill-fated Duncan. King Fergus expressed his disappointment at the small numbers I had brought with me. "My Lord King, you gave me scant time to fully raise the lordship. I have come on as quickly as could be and others will follow behind me." I replied somewhat testily. Fergus and Angus between them had raised some two thousand men and as usual the King was anxious to be on the move. We marched for Taynuilt, heading towards the three thousand seven hundred feet mountain Ben Cruachan and the slightly smaller Stob Diamh and Beinne a'Bhuiridh. I felt my chest expand to twice its size in pride at this sight before me. I pitied those who have never seen such a sight; purple coloured mountains, covered in heather at this time of year and the waters of mighty Loch Awe running along its feet. We marched through the Pass of Brander, Cruachan towering above us, and passed a raging waterfall that ran into the loch. Our line of march took us down Glen Lochy and into Strath Fillan, here mighty Ben Challum rose on one side and Beinne Dubhchraig on the other, both around three and a half thousand feet high, both a riot of colour. My mounted archers joined us at the foot of the Strath and I was glad to have them. Forced marches between Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond, over the Campsie Hills and past Kilsyth brought us to the very waist of Scotland and the border of the sub-Kingdom of Strathclyde. We were aiming to meet up with High king Constantine at the River Tweed where it bordered Northumbria before striking southwards. That involved a further march east across country and then south through the Lammermuir hills. As we neared the Tweed there was no sign of the High King's host and it seemed he had pressed on without us. We forded the Tweed at Norham and carried on southwards, signs of a large host having passed before us evident. As we approached an area know as Hazelrigg we spied a great mass of men and beasts rushing towards us. "The fool!" Cried Fergus. "He has allowed himself to be routed and yet he tries to run while herding his booty of beasts. His greed will be the end of him!" Our host had stopped to watch in fascination at the scene before us. What appeared to be the Scots were streaming northwards with a larger body of men, much more tightly and orderly grouped, harrying after them, catching them quite rapidly due to the fact the Scots were trying to drive cattle with them. I surveyed the situation and spied a hill between where we were and the evolving position before us. The hill was shaped like a backward 'L', the foot creating a natural ridge that faced both groups of running men. "Knapdale archers to me!" I screamed, vaulting into the saddle of a nearby horse. My fifty mounted archers sought to marshal themselves and I hastily commanded Lachlan to wait with our foot and seek to lead a rally if possible, stiffened by the Dalriada host. I then led the archers at the gallop towards the ridge on the hill. We reached it and I had the archers hastily dismount and line the ridge. From here we had a better vantagepoint to view what was going on and it wasn't looking good. Constantine was clearly visible in the midst of it all but his men were a routed rabble, no sense of control was evident. I estimated there were perhaps two and a half thousand Scots. The Saxon host looked to be about equal in numbers to the Scots but obviously had the forward momentum and were lifted because the Scots were running away. As men looked behind them and realised the Saxons were gaining on them; they at last abandoned the cattle to try to make better speed. Greater speed was achieved and the cattle were hindering the chasing Saxons. I watched as the Saxons broke free of the cattle and resumed their chase, apparently unaware of King Fergus and the Dalriada force in front of the retreating Constantine. Constantine drew level with our position on the ridge but there was no sign of him or his men halting or turning to engage their pursuers. I readied my archers as the Saxons were now coming within range, anxious to see whether my notion of a ninth century version of modern artillery would have the impact I hoped. I had witnessed the archers training and I knew they could loose three of four arrows in a volley before the first fell to the ground. With luck we would be able to fire several volleys so perhaps three or four hundred arrows. "Ready!" I cried and watched as the archers drew their bows as far back as they could. "Fire!" The archers' training worked well. They had practised tight groupings of their arrows, trying to ensure a concentrated impact. The 'thwump' as the strings were released was almost a single sound as they all released on my command. Quickly further arrows were notched and released until the sky seemed to be filled with them. The archers continued to fire, their aim sending the arrows in a parabolic arc. I watched silently and motionless as the arrows began to rain down on the Saxons. Taken by surprise, the first Saxons fell like skittles and when others fell to the ground to avoid the cloud of death, they did so with their shields under them rather than covering their bodies. This presented a bigger target for the arrows to find and many found their mark. By no means all of the arrows were successful but many were and the psychological impact on the Saxons was also huge. I urged the archers to continue to fire their arrows into the prone Saxons until I saw the Dalriada force come charging towards them. At this point I had to call a halt or risk hitting our own men, in any event arrows were running short. It was a strangely detached position to be in to watch what now transpired. The fresh Dalriadan host overran the Saxons and High King Constantine's men rallied with renewed confidence as they saw the impact of my archers and Fergus' men. The casualties from the arrow volleys and the re-enforcement's left the Scots hugely outnumbering the Saxons and very soon the boot was on the other foot and the Saxons were in full flight. I led the archers down onto the flat land and they began to search through the fallen men to recover usable arrows. I rode over to where Constantine and Fergus sat their horses. "mac Fergus! Gods man, once again you've saved the day. I've never seen such a thing, the sky rained arrows down on our foes and they fell where they stood." "What a wonder, death falling from the clouds. What device was this mac Fergus?" King Fergus asked. "A new type of bow my Lord, a new way of using bows against the enemy. My men have trained long and hard all summer for this and they have demonstrated the value of their training today." "Constantine at least gives his thanks for their hard work then mac Fergus, for I was in a sorry pass until you intervened!" It was midday the next day before the majority of the Scots forces had returned to the Hazelrigg valley, now laden with booty, many head of cattle in particular. The High King declared himself well satisfied with the final outcome and a start for home was made. As we made our way back over the border I was being feted by the High King. "So Fergus, this Lord of yours has twice now come to his High Kings rescue! How think you he should be rewarded?" King Fergus looked at the High King somewhat nervously it seemed to me, perhaps a little concerned that he was possibly about to lose his Lord of Knapdale. He hummed and hawed before replying. "I'm sure you will reward him as you see fit my Lord, reward him for doing what is after all his duty to you the High King." This last was something of an attempt to underplay the contribution that my Knapdale men had actually made. I really did begin to think that he was worried the High King was about to offer me something that would entice me away from Dalriada. "For my ownself I have already decided that he should assume oversight of the lordships of my Kintyre, Cowall and Bute that are currently lorded by minors." The High King looked thoughtful at this, recognising that Fergus was making a play to retain me in his sub-Kingdom. Perhaps he decided he wasn't willing to enter into a bidding war because he seemed to rein himself back and took some moments before he spoke again. "It may be that I can reward him otherwise. He seems to use the resources he has at his command to the full. How say you mac Fergus? Could your lands accommodate some additional men and could you train them to battle as you have these others? I could perhaps send you an additional five hundred to swell your ranks." I couldn't believe these last two statements. With these I was in line to more than double the lands I controlled and would have many more available men as a fighting force too. I kept my mouth shut. I enjoyed the wonderful scenery and heady atmosphere on the return journey, mingling amongst the Knapdale men, congratulating them on their part in the battle. News of my planned overlordship of Kintyre, Cowall and Bute had leaked out and the Knapdale men were seeing this as an affirmation that their lord was the bee's knees. They liked that. ------- Chapter 16: Enlargement We were barely into autumn and there were still weeks before I thought bad weather would make travel and development difficult. I sent the majority of the Knapdale host back to Oban to recover the longships but detoured on my way back to Aird Driseig to visit Cowall and Bute. I ordered the longships to meet with us at the main camp of the lordship, Rothesay, as quickly as they could get there. My party was now about seventy on horseback, including my long bow archers and we made directly for Rothesay. My approach had obviously been communicated because our passage was not challenged and when we arrived at Rothesay a small group emerged from behind their fortifications to greet us. "Welcome my Lord," said one of these, "I am Aedan the current steward of Cowall and Bute, guardian of our Lord here Gabrain mac Domangairt." With that he thrust forward a black haired boy of perhaps nine or ten. The boy looked at me suspiciously but showed no fear. I decided immediately I liked him and would do all that I could to make sure his lordship was well looked after and developed until he was old enough to take on its rule himself. I leapt from my horse and walked up to the lad, bowing low before him in an exaggerated show of respect. "It is my pleasure to meet the most puissant Lord of Cowall and Bute. Well-met, Gabrain mac Domangairt! I am Scott mac Fergus, appointed by King Fergus to lend some small assistance to you until you take on the full responsibilities of your lordship." "Aedan, refreshments please for our guests," the boy said, voice high but firm enough. He turned and we were led inside the settlement to Rothesay's hall where meat and ale was served. Gabrain sat with us and listened attentively as I explained what my plans were for assuming control in the short term. I made it clear that I had no pretensions to take over the lordship but would lend assistance to improve the land and to introduce some of the other advances I had brought about in Knapdale. My treatment of the young Gabrain and my plans seemed to re-assure the men of Cowall and Bute and the initial stiff-necked attitude towards us began to noticeably thaw. My idea was that Colmgil would come to Rothesay and oversee developments here. He could take a detailed accounting of the resources of the lordship for me and share with these men the techniques that were now being put to good use in my own lands. Various craftsmen and some of the warriors could visit Aird Driseig and see at first hand how to introduce things like salt production and production and training around the long bow. We also discussed improvements to the defences around the lordship along the lines of what I had developed elsewhere. We had a pleasant week in Rothesay overseeing the beginnings of the improvements before two of my longships arrived having made the passage from Oban round Kintyre and up the Firth of Clyde. I left last instructions for Colmgil and left one of the longships at his disposal so he could travel easier between here and Aird Driseig. That done, I prepared to take my leave of Rothesay and young Gabrain and his people. "My thanks for your kind hospitality Lord Gabrain. I hope that my men from Knapdale can help your lordship flourish before your eyes. Now I must leave and go to Kintyre to make similar arrangements there. It is my hope that I will see you soon but until then stay well!" "Aedan, co-operate with Colmgil and these others. My Lord Scott, it is my wish that you see me sooner than you think, I would go with you to Kintyre and on to Aird Driseig!" Said the young Gabrain, in something of a rush, a concerned look on his face, perhaps in case he was rebuffed. I was delighted that the boy wanted to travel with me. I decided he wanted to do so in order to learn more of my ideas and I measured him as a lad of some intelligence, worthy indeed of some of my time to help him develop himself as well as his lordship. "I would be delighted to have you travel with me Gabrain, come, our ship awaits." Two days of sailing down the Firth of Clyde, passing the mighty island of Arran and swinging westwards at its foot, brought us to Campbeltown, the main settlement in Kintyre. I had stared fondly at Arran as we passed down its western seaboard, passing Brodick Bay with high Goat's Fell towering over it and passed Lamlash Bay with its Holy Isle sheltering the anchorage. My parents had brought me to Arran on vacation when I was younger and I had lots of pleasant memories of my time there. Arran had been described as Scotland in miniature, all of the features of the mainland replicated in some way on the island. Looping round the tiny Davaar Island we sailed up Campbeltown Loch to its head and landed at another fortified camp on the shoreline there. Once more a welcoming party came out to meet us and we were taken within the settlement to meet its principals. "Lord Scott this is Echdach mac Aed, Lord of Kintyre." Said one of the lordship's captains as he presented a boy of perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Once more I bowed low to show respect to the lad and then spoke directly to him rather than the captain. "Lord Echdach, it is my pleasure to meet you. Let me present Gabrain mac Domangairt, Lord of Cowall and Bute." The two boys bowed slightly and stiffly, each eyeing the other warily. The introductions over, we sat down with some food and drink to repeat the conversation and process we had gone through in Rothesay. I laid out my plans and ideas for Kintrye, emphasising once more that I had no desire to take the lordship for myself. I tried to make it clear that there was much that I could do to help make it safer from Viking assault and also to have it producing more than it had in the past. Echdach remained more wary of me than did Gabrain and I could see he was sullen and moody. Some of his comments made it clear he already saw himself as perfectly capable of taking on the full rule of his lordship now, without any guardian. His eyes held some resentment that King Fergus had appointed me to oversee things and I thought he could well be a source of trouble in the future. He was hotheaded and full of himself, perhaps as a result of his age, hormones or some inflated idea of his worth as a lord. I decided that I would leave Lachlan here at Campbeltown to run things for me and to keep this Echdach under his close watch. I discussed with Lachlan what I would like to see achieved before winter set in and what arrangements he should make to have Kintyre men come to Aird Driseig for training in the various techniques that we would share. "Keep this Echdach under your close supervision Lachlan. He appears too full of himself, too hotheaded for my liking. I want no trouble from him, see you." "Aye my Lord. I too think he may be something of a handful but I will try to teach him some better ways!" The next morning I set off at last on the final leg back to Aird Driseig. There was no surprise that Echdach had absolutely no desire to copy Gabrain and travel with me. We beached the ship and made camp for the night just before the entrance to Loch Fyne, quickly getting some campfires burning. I rigged up a spit and began to roast some meat. Gabrain seemed to have decided to attach himself to me and he sat by my side as the meat cooked. "My Lord, tell me again how your archers halted the Saxons?" He asked me. I retold the story of the battle at Hazelrigg and Gabrain showed his quick-witted intelligence by asking a number of insightful questions. He asked about distance and angles, about numbers and about how the Saxons might have defended themselves against the hail of arrows. I found myself enjoying our conversation. He was the first person I had met who seemed to be this inquisitive, seemed to have a thirst for learning, a thirst I was happy to try and slake. "My Lord... "Call me Scott, Gabrain. After all you are as much of a lord as I am. Anyway, I still haven't quite got used to all this 'lord' stuff. Just plain Scott will do between us." "Okay, Scott, where did you get all the ideas you talked about in Rothesay and Campbeltown? What made you think about spikes, stakes and oil in the water to help fend off the Vikings? How did you figure out that digging ditches would help make the fields drier and suitable for pasture? How did you discover you could make salt out of seawater?" "So many questions my young Lord, so many questions. Which to answer first?" I knew I would have to be careful with my explanations. His nimble mind would identify holes if they were there and I didn't think I could just come out and tell him I was from the twenty-first century. "Ideas come from study Gabrain. By studying one thing and thinking about it we can sometimes make connections to other things or think about using something we already have in a different way." "What do you mean?" He asked again. "Well, the stakes and spikes for example. We have been using spears to hunt and in battle for years. I just thought about how I could use sharpened wood and iron in a slightly different way, on a bigger scale to do the same job as a spear." "Oh, I see." He said, and I could see he was thinking this over." "Haven't you ever spilt oil from a lamp? When you try to put out the flames with water, it makes the flames spread rather than douse so I thought about how oil might be used on a bigger scale on the water to help beat the Vikings. And when I was sitting beside a stream one day, I noticed how it had cut a channel through the land. The water level in the channel grew when it rained as if the water was drawn to it. When I thought about that it occurred to me that maybe I could create new channels for water to gather in, that would attract the water, so I tried that and it worked." "I can see how a man could use his wits and put these things together Scott, but what about the salt?" "That was slightly different. You will have tasted seawater when swimming so you'll know how salty it is. I put that thought together with an observation that water seems to disappear when boiled. If you boil a pot of water long enough you are left with less water than you put in the pot at the start. So, I tried boiling seawater to see what would happen, to see if I could get the salt in it to come out. You see? I don't make salt; it's already there. All I do is get it to come out of the water." "So there is no magic involved?" I laughed at this. "No Gabrain, there is no magic, just using your brain to think and even then it doesn't always work out as you might expect. Take the bows for instance. I looked at my men using their bows and thought a bigger bow would be better, fire further. What I didn't expect was that a bigger bow would be so difficult to draw that it has taken men half a year to even begin to be able to use them." "And the pottery Scott, even I could see that my potter left the clay to dry in the sun. So, your idea of putting the clay in the forge to harden makes sense. I don't know why somebody hadn't thought of that before." "Somebody would have Gabrain. Eventually somebody would use their head to think as I did, as you should teach yourself to do. Look for patterns. Consider how things work or how things happen. Imagine using different things in different ways, to do different things. For example, I have been thinking about clay. We use it to hold water as well as other liquids like ale. What if we were to have a huge pot, a pot that when laid on its side ran a long distance? If it was open at both ends, could we get a stream to run through it and by doing so direct water to where we wanted it to go? If we could do that we could save men and women having to draw water from streams and carry them to our camps." I saw his eyes widen as he took in the concept. "But we could not make a forge big enough to fire such a large pot Scott." He said. "No, but..." I let him think of a possible solution to this problem and watched as the gears in his head began to turn. At last a smile of triumph came over his face and he blurted out his solution. "But we could make many small pots and lay them one after the other!" "Exactly! There you are Gabrain, your first idea! I will leave you to work on this with the Aird Driseig potter so you can create a stream in the heart of my camp." The boy was clearly excited at the prospect of taking charge of this project and it was difficult to get him to roll himself in his plaid and go to sleep. At last he did so and I smiled at his youthful enthusiasm as I felt my own eyes growing heavy. I was going to enjoy having young Gabrain around. When we arrived at Aird Driseig the next day, Kirsty and Fiona immediately adopted Gabrain. His friendly, outgoing personality and quick wits made him a favourite at once and they both fawned all over him, much to his embarrassment. He couldn't get away from their attention quick enough however to search out the potter so he could discuss his project and how it might work. I left him to it as I felt the need to re-acquaint myself with my two beauties after having been away for some weeks. The girls appeared even closer to each other and Kirsty was openly referring to Fiona as 'Fifi' all the time now. It seemed natural for me to adopt the same nickname and both smiled warmly at me the first time I used it. There was no jealousy between them, which I thought unusual and for which I thanked god! They acted like devoted sisters but I knew that their love for each other was far more than sisterly and I enjoyed watching them together and sharing them when we were in bed together. Over the next few days I reviewed the lordship and my projects. My new steward in the absence of Colmgil and Lachlan was my next senior man, Niall. He reported good progress in land improvement throughout the area and also increases in livestock, both from breeding our well-fed stock and from the additions we had brought from Northumbria. I had decided to abandon making glass objects however. Glass blowing had proved very difficult and I couldn't see that a glass jar or bottle added much value over pottery, so wasn't worth the effort. I did ask that small glass pieces continue to be made for signalling however. Iain mac Donald continued to produce long bows, beyond the original fifty I had asked for, and archery training and practice continued each day. I started Gabrain on this and on sword practice too, thinking it was never too early to begin his education in these things. If it had been anything else but practising the arts of warfare that pulled him away from his project, I'm sure I would never have managed it. As it was, Gabrain threw himself into his weapons training with just as much enthusiasm. He continued to test out his thinking on me and described how he had asked the potter to make some test pieces that we could look at. He explained how he had designed his 'pots' to be slightly tapered at one end and with a 'lip' at the other to help them fit together better. "I did what you said Scott. I thought about it and transferred something else I had observed. I looked at a pile of beakers stacked up in the hall-house and noticed how their shape helped them sit one within the other!" I thought his modification was pretty good going for a ten-year old and told him he had done well. "There is likely to be a big problem though," he told me. "The potter tells me that pots left outside in the winter tend to break, particularly if they have water in them and it freezes. I have been trying to think of how I can avoid that." I thought about the problem myself and immediately came up with a number of possible solutions. "How do you keep yourself from freezing when it's cold Gabrain?" I asked him. His eyes lit up immediately. "I wrap myself up, we could blanket the pots, keep the frost off of them!" "I'm not sure we have sufficient material to do that, but perhaps there is another way, another kind of 'blanket' we could use." He looked disappointed at first as he realised I was right about the material but then he caught my suggestion that there was another way and I could see he was thinking again. "A blanket of soil!" He exclaimed. "Scott, we could cover the pots with soil to keep them out of the frost!" I smiled as he reached his own solution and began to dance around, pleased with himself. "Ha, wait till I tell that grumpy old potter. He's tried to find holes in my idea at every turn and he actually smiled when he told me this of the frost. But now mac Domangairt will have the last laugh!" He rushed off, presumably to inform the potter that his latest 'hole' had just been filled in. I worked with him over the course of the next week as his project took shape. The new design for his 'pots' worked very well indeed and helped ensure each piece fitted snugly into the next. I allowed him to commandeer some of the camp's men to help him dig a trench from close to a stream some fifty yards above the camp all the way down to the earthen mound and the moat. At this point the pipeline would need to go overground and some of our precious linen would need to be used to insulate it, but it would be far less than it would if all the pipe was above ground. I had also been working with the smith to design a metal cap that would fit on the end of the pipe. The cap had a simple 'open/closed' tap mechanism built into it and I had the smith forge a largish 'tank' for the water to pour into. Once all the lengths of clay pipe had been assembled in the bottom of the trench we dammed the stream and fitted the final piece of pipe into the streambed then released the water to see whether our water pipe would work. Gabrain was hopping from one foot to the other as he turned the tap and waited to see what would happen. There was no reaction at first as the water was still travelling down the pipe but after a few moments a steady stream of water poured out and fell into the metal tank. Most of the settlement had gathered round to watch this. They had all taken to Gabrain and were infected by his enthusiasm for his project. They also recognised just how useful the pipe could be if it worked. None of them would miss the chore of carting jars of water from the stream up the hill to the camp. So they were all behind him and when the water poured out there was an almighty cheer from them all. Gabrain was picked up and tossed repeatedly into the air. He was in heaven, his ideas had worked! Now we were sure the pipe worked, the earth from the trench was used to cover the pipe and we hoped it would save the clay from fracturing during the winter. Kirsty and Fifi treated Gabrain to a large portion of bread and honey to celebrate his success and his major contribution to the camp. The problem of crossing the moat had brought another idea into my head. I remembered something I had once read about, an Archimedes screw pump. If Archimedes could make one, I was sure I could and it might have a number of uses. That in turn made me think of other simple pump devices and I let that ferment in my head to see where it might lead me. ------- Chapter 17: Knapdale Inc. Gabrain 'dined out' on his pipeline for some time. The camp loved him and he basked in it all. I made sure he didn't get a big head though and had something in mind that I thought might stimulate him but at the same time calm him down a little. The Abbot of Iona had agreed to my request to establish a church here at Aird Driseig and had sent a monk to survey the possibilities. He and I had agreed a site to build on but there was little for him to do until the structure was up. I was going to change that by having him begin lessons for young Gabrain. I wanted him to be able to read and write as a start and I thought he might rebel at the prospect of spending time with the elderly monk each day. I just needed to sell the idea somehow. I settled on the idea of suggesting to him that it would be a big help in getting the girls to study if he would too. This had the added benefit of getting the girls involved and learning to read and write. Bless him, he fell for it and began his studies right away. I made sure he continued with his weapons practice too and we continued to discuss ideas in the evening. During this week Colmgil and Lachlan arrived with parties from Rothesay and Campbeltown to learn about the ideas and improvements they could begin to put in place in their own camps. Trawling was a big hit as was the salt evaporation. Gabrain was in the limelight again when our pipeline and tap were demonstrated for the visitors. None of the men from Cowall, Bute or Kintyre could make an impression on the long bow and were open mouthed when my own men put on a demonstration. I was sitting eating with the girls and Gabrain when the girls began their mothering routine again. Gabrain seemed conflicted. He was enjoying the attention in one way but there was a residual concern I think about being too girly! "Gabrain, what happened to your mother and father?" Asked Kirsty, out of the blue, perhaps just feeling maternal. "My father contracted an illness and wasted away over the spring." He replied. "Mother is back at Rothesay." "What!" Both girls shouted at once. "Scott, how could you take this boy away from his mother!" Scowled Kirsty. I was just as surprised as the girls were. I hadn't thought for a second that Gabrain's mother was still alive. When he had volunteered to come to Aird Driseig I had assumed he was an orphan. Gabrain noticeably bristled at Kirsty's use of 'boy' to describe him, his brows lowering. "Kirsty, I had no knowledge that Gabrain's mother was still alive. I would not have knowingly separated them if I had." Gabrain didn't seem to know what all the fuss was about but he was still annoyed at being called a boy! I spoke to Colmgil before he departed for Rothesay, telling him that Gabrain's mother was to be shipped to Aird Driseig as soon as he made landfall at the camp. I think all the visitors left at the end of the week with plenty of food for thought given all they had seen and tried. Colmgil and Lachlan would do all they could to help see the other lordships took up my ideas I knew. We had discussed how much was to be distributed throughout the lordships they were overseeing, how much should go to King Fergus at Dunadd and how much should come here to me. At this rate I would have plenty to trade with the merchants the next time they came to the camp. One of the things I had thought of to trade for was limestone. I had remembered a number of different uses for lime and one of them was mortar. I knew this was just a mix of sand, lime and water although I wasn't sure of the ratios of the ingredients. I was interested in this because another thing had come into my head, bricks. So far as I knew, bricks could be made using clay and a little sand. So, if I could make bricks and find some lime to make mortar, I could be building brick structures! There were other uses for lime I was sure but they were tickling the back of my brain and I was learning to just let them surface in their own time. As luck would have it two merchantmen arrived at Aird Driseig that week. One was a ship that had called previously and carried some interesting cargo given my previous attempts at bartering. One such was a supply of vines as I had asked and I was keen to secure these, not that I let the merchant know how keen! He also carried a small quantity of seeds for other plants that he had been given when he had purchased the vines and he included these in the trade as a free extra. On the previous trip I had traded some barrels but now I drove a harder bargain and told the merchant that, as I was using the barrels for the salt, for each barrel of salt we traded he would need to give me two empty barrels free. I assured him that this would ensure I would have even more salt for him in future. The gleam in his eyes told me that he wanted this badly and he agreed easily to my demands. He had an abundance of iron ore and tried to use that as a bargaining point to gain more of my salt. I played it cool and once more managed to get a good exchange rate that left me with a considerable store of salt left. I was surprised when he also enquired about more soap. I was sure that soap wouldn't catch on quickly and had given him some as a 'loss leader' on his last visit. Now it seemed that there was a market out there for it after all as he was keen to take some off my hands. I toyed with him a little to try and gauge just how badly he wanted it. "We don't have very much of the soap." I told him, watching closely to see his reaction. This guy obviously didn't play poker and wasn't used to people who didn't just offer up everything they had in exchange for some of what he could offer. I was a lot more savvy than that and when his obvious disappointment at the lack of soap showed I knew I could gain even more from him. I had already secured my vines, barrels and some iron ore, some free seeds of indeterminate nature thrown in. I still had many barrels of salt and plenty of soap, not to mention some high quality pottery to trade. I let the merchantman know I had some soap that I might trade but it would have to come at a price. I motioned to some of my men to bring up a lot I had prepared. It included six barrels of salt and about a hundred bars of soap. Once more the merchants face lit up, giving away just how badly he wanted my goods. He fished out a small drawstring bag and extracted a single gold coin, holding it up to catch the light. I knew what gold was and it caught my attention but I continued to act as before. I had already refused to trade with him for coins and I acted now as if the gold coin was no different to the copper and silver coins he had offered my previously. He physically deflated. From a posture of producing the coin and expecting an excited reaction to being told I wasn't interested seemed to really take it out of him. "This coin is worth all of your goods put together!" He said. "Your coins are of no value to me merchant." I said. "But, I will trade you these barrels and bars of soap for something else. If you can find me a load of limestone or chalk I would be willing to part with some of my stock." "But I have none of that on my ship." He complained. His response confirmed for me that he was very keen to do the trade, he really wanted my goods. I decided to play it hardball and told him the limestone or chalk was what it would take. I turned to the men from the camp that stood behind me and asked if there was anything else that they knew of that we might want. My benefactor from several weeks ago, he who had cured my sore head, spoke to the merchant and ordered some supplies that had medicinal qualities. The merchantman suggested he could make a return trip in four weeks and I agreed to be ready for him. I spoke to the other ship's master and didn't find anything worth trading for but I tarried with him as the first ship departed to give the impression that I might be trading some of my salt. There's nothing wrong with a little competition, is there! Gabrain had been at my side through all of the exchanges with the merchant and now he spoke to me about what he thought he had witnessed. I was impressed at his reading of the way I had manipulated the merchant to get the best deal possible for our goods. It was clear that he would become a good negotiator in his own right. He did enquire as to why I had asked for the limestone or chalk and I had to think quickly for an answer. "I have heard somewhere that if lime is mixed with sand it forms a good form of mortar to hold stones together." I told him. "Where did you hear this Scott?" He asked. "Oh, I'm not sure Gabrain, but it's worth having a go at. It's another of those things we need to think about and try and make connections. If it works it could be very useful." I'm not sure he was convinced by my rather weak answer but he let it go nonetheless. I left him to search out my potter and the smith. I sat them both down and described some of the things I wanted. From the smith I wanted a range of oblong moulds and two iron 'stamps'. I described the stamps as heavy iron weights with handles. One would fit the moulds and have a short handle. The other would be much bigger and have a longer handle so a man standing up could use it comfortably. I explained to the potter that I wanted him to make up a mixture of clay and sand, perhaps three quarters clay to one quarter sand, and to use the moulds and the smaller stamp to prepare blocks of clay. These should then be fired in the forge and left to cool. I told him I wanted a great many of these blocks prepared. I also asked the potter about making some more glass. He looked at me doubtfully but I assured him I wasn't looking for glasses, jugs or bowls merely some squares of flat glass. He relaxed and confirmed that his skill would run to that. Leaving them to get on with meeting my requirements I walked to the hall-house to share a beaker of ale with Niall, I figured I'd had a good day and deserved it. After a few beakers of ale I sat outside the house and enjoyed the view down the lochs once more. This was becoming something of a habit for me, I used the time to review what was going on and think about what I wanted to do next. Gabrain joined me, sitting quietly at my side, somehow tuning in to the mood and remaining silent. I spent some time marshalling my thoughts and then shared them with my young companion. "Gabrain, I have some simple goals in life. Goals for myself, Kirsty and Fifi, goals for the men of my lordship and now yours too, and goals for our God-given country, Scotland. "Yes my Lord." He replied, focussing and preparing himself to soak up what I was about to say." "These simple goals are the same for all of the levels I mention, the same for family, lordship and country." "What are these goals Scott." He asked, his youth at last betraying a little impatience. "Simple goals - security, health and then wealth, in that order." "I don't understand Scott?" "All of the projects that I have set in train are aimed at these three things. My first priority is to ensure security so far as I can. So, I have looked to develop defences and new weapons against our enemies so we have a better chance of surviving." "Yes, I can see that Scott. What about health?" "Health relies on many things I think. I have introduced things such as boiling water before anyone drinks it, heating the milk too. Variety in our diets is something I think is important and we are achieving that through better husbandry of our animals, better fishing and the introduction of things like honey. Using soap is crucial too and I know that the girls have explained to you how you must always wash things before eating and the like. But there is more that we need to do on this. I would improve the disposal of our waste if I could and also we need to be careful about how we care for our teeth. I'm thinking about these things." "But Scott, how do you know these things are important?" "Through observation Gabrain. I take note when people become ill or die. I look for patterns as I have told you and I form an opinion based on the same patterns resulting in the same problems." That seemed to satisfy him on the health question. "What about wealth Scott?" "Having access to more wealth, to trade, to grow, that should allow us more opportunity to do things that will improve our security and health. So, it is more a means to an end rather than an end in itself." I could see that he was deep in thought as he took my words in. I was pleased; it could be that Gabrain would end up as being a key part in any legacy that I could leave behind. Several days later Gabrain's mother arrived at Aird Driseig. I was lounging outside the house again when I saw the longship beat up Loch Gilp. I had a fair idea that it was carrying the boy's mother as there seemed no great urgency about the ship - so not an emergency - and I wasn't expecting any other visitors. The girls and Gabrain were out and about somewhere around the settlement. Some minutes later I saw Kirsty and Fiona making their way up the hill, another person with them. As they neared I let out an exclamation under my breath. "Fuck me! That has got to be the most gorgeous woman I have ever had the fortune to set eyes on." I mumbled. She was like a blonde elf. Slim, petite, the kind of fine, silky blonde hair that is made for sunlight to reflect off of and for fingers to run through slowly. She held her head proudly as she ascended the hill, deep in conversation with both my girls. They made a fine sight the three of them together. I stood as they came up to the house, my eyes drawn to this perfect little nymph. I could now tell her eyes were green, matching the dress that she wore, unusual for everyday wear in this time. "Scott, here is Eilean nic Malcolm mac Boanta." "Scott!" I came out of the trance I was in, realising that I was completely captivated by the woman. Kirsty and Fifi giggled knowingly at my distraction. "Here is Eilean nic Malcolm mac Boanta." Kirsty Said, almost reverently. I took in the name. It was unusual. I had not heard a name like this before. It almost seemed double-barrelled. Looking at the bearer of the name I noticed she had her head slightly bowed, her eyes looking at the ground, almost submissive. "Welcome to Aird Driseig, Eilean nic Malcolm." I managed to get out despite my tongue feeling too big for my mouth. "I want to apologise for taking Gabrain from you at Rothesay, I was unaware that you were there present and would never knowingly separate a mother from her child." "My thanks to you Norse-slayer and to the saints for re-uniting me with my young Lord." Her voice was low, breathy and sweet sounding. The use of 'Norse-slayer' was an obvious compliment. I found it difficult to focus on the words, the sound of her voice almost transporting me away. Again the two girls giggled. "He is a credit to you Eilean, a fine young Lord and Cowall and Bute will see the benefits of it in years to come. He has a quick head on his shoulders and has already impressed this camp with his ideas." She raised her head slightly and nodded at me before looking at the ground again. I grunted to the two girls and beat a hasty retreat. I was simply embarrassing myself. In any event I already had two women, why was I getting my sporran in a twist over another! Still she was exquisite. I went in search of Gabrain to tell him his mother had arrived. I found him practising with his sword, one of my men taking him through his moves. He was unexcited by the news his mother had arrived, simply continuing his practice. I however, was very excited by her arrival and moved through the camp, trying to find something to distract me. I went to the forge and found a large stack of fired bricks already produced. The potter and the smith were very pleased with their efforts, rightly so. I admit I was in something of a daze for the next few days, walking around like a lovesick puppy. Kirsty and Fifi were highly amused rather than upset (still can't understand women and never will!) and took every opportunity, particularly when we were making love, to tease me about my reaction to Eilean. They would take turns whispering her name in my ear as I stroked into the other them and it was driving me crazy. I tried as much as possible to keep out of Eilean's way. It didn't help that every time I did have to speak to her she continued to act very submissive. I found the whole package, her elfin size and looks, her beguiling voice, her submissive nature all conspiring to leave me unable to think of anything else. In an effort to escape once more I decided to take Gabrain out hunting. We took some horses and bows and took to the forest in a search of some deer. Our search was fruitless however but it did distract me for a few hours. When we returned to the camp I found other things to keep me busy. That set the tone for the next few days. I would try to find some device to get me out of the house, out of the camp if possible and out of sight of Eilean. In counterpoint to my attempts to be circumspect, the girl's behaviour got progressively worse. They became increasingly vocal at night. "Oh, give me your beautiful, huge staff Scott!" "Ah, fill me up my darling, uh, you are going to split me open with your staff-beast!" "It won't fit, it's too big, ooohhhhhhh, take meeeeeeee!" All this and more. Several days later I took Gabrain out fishing in a currach on the loch. The autumn weather was still fine and we enjoyed sitting/lying in the hide boat, our lines over the side in the hope of catching something. "Scott, can I ask you something?" Gabrain said. "Of course Gabrain." I replied sleepily. "The noises that come from your bed at night, the words that Kirsty and Fifi use, what is to do?" "Oh dear," I thought, "sex education ninth-century style." I outlined the basics of sex and human reproduction for the boy, responding to his searching questions as honestly as I knew how. I wasn't embarrassed in any way; in fact it was good to be able to pass on some knowledge. "So you put your staff inside the woman, between her legs, and shoot your sperm into her and that's how children are made?" "That's about the size of it Gabrain." "But why were the girls saying the things they were?" "Ah, Gabrain, Mother Nature has worked her magic to make sure that we continue to produce children. The feeling when you have your staff inside a woman is like no other feeling, only bettered by the feeling when you reach your climax and shoot your sperm. The woman too should feel wonderful sensations and it is this incentive that makes men and women continue to have sex and produce the next generation." "But Scott, that doesn't explain what the girls have been saying. It's all about how big you are and how you are likely to split them open, I know you are very big compared to the rest of us, but what has that got to do with sex?" "Ummm, I don't think the girls were talking about how tall I am Gabrain." "Oh." He said, realisation dawning. "And they like this?" "I think so." "If that's the way to make babies Scott, why do you use your mouth on the girls between their legs. Can you make babies that way too?" I choked and sat up in the boat. "Gabrain, have you been looking, watching us perchance?" He turned red, but to his credit he nodded and admitted it. "Well my young lord, if you are going to make sure your partner enjoys herself, you will need to learn the art of cunnilingus." "Cunniwhat?" "Never mind. You will need to learn how to please your woman with your mouth and tongue as if it was your fingers and staff. Believe me that they really like this!" "Does my mother want to have a child with you too then Scott?" Once more I choked. "No Gabrain, I'm sure that's not the case." "Then why does she look at you the way the girls do? Why does she moan your name when she is sleeping?" This was more information than I wanted and I looked to change the subject. There must be a god up there because at that very moment, Gabrain's line tightened and he sat up fully to fight the fish that was on his line. When we returned to shore we saw Kirsty and Fifi making their way to cut some rushes, they waved. Gabrain left me with his catch and ran off to bow practice. I walked up the hill to the house, stopping at the hall to talk to Niall for ten minutes or so before resuming on to get rid of the fish. I entered the house and stopped immediately when I heard moaning. It was coming from behind the curtain where Gabrain and Eilean slept. I couldn't help myself; I crept forward quietly and peered round the curtain. Oh sweet Jesus! There on the bed was a naked Eilean, one of our candles in her hand and pistoning in and out of her little blonde muff. Her body was incredible, high breasts, lithe limbs and she was writhing around as she fucked herself with the wax cock. "Oh Scott, take me, take me. Yeeesssssss. Make me take your staff, make me take it! You know I want it, force me to take all of you. Don't believe me when I say no. Bend me over and force yourself on me, take me, please!" I was gob-smacked. It seemed that she really was a submissive. She wanted me to force her into having sex, wanted me to take her while she said no. I was as hard as I ever been I think, she was gorgeous and she wanted me. I had avoided her like the plague due to some kind of misplaced politeness. But she wanted me to bend her over and fuck her! "Yeeeesssss Scott, put your big staff into me, split me open, make me take it. No not there, please, there, you're too big. Scott, please, mercy, not like that!" I looked on in amazement as Eilean pulled the candle from her pussy and forced its length past her puckered ass and into her anal passage, all the while chanting that she couldn't take it, her fingers in her wet pussy. Her actions belied her words and she was really getting off on the wax candle up her butt. Her words changed again. "Oh Scott, sooooo good, feels sooo good, uh, uh. Yes, make me take your huge staff-beast, make me take it, yesssssss it feels so good. Yeeeeesssssssss, aaaahhhhhhhhh." She was ramming the candle into herself roughly and her other hand was roughly rubbing her clitoris, twisting it, pulling it and then she obviously had a huge orgasm, flopping around with the candle still stuffed within her. I gulped and withdrew quietly. ------- Chapter 18: Keeping things warm I managed to continue to avoid being alone with Eilean for some weeks. Gabrain kept the temperature up by telling me how much his mother liked me and how she was still speaking my name as she slept. I focussed my energy on other things. I questioned Kirsty closely as to the conditions we might expect during winter. The summer temperature had been above what I was used to so I thought it was important to ask. She advised that I could expect lots of snow and ice, extreme cold, biting winds. That presented another set of challenges for me to think about. I decided that Gabrain would be a help in this, given how smart he was. We sat on the grass outside the house after our evening meal and I introduced the idea that we should think about things that might help us cope with winter better. "What kind of things might help our people withstand the cold, the ice, the snow?" I asked him. "Well fire of course!" He replied. "But what about when they are outside? There is no fire they can take with them to keep warm. What could we do about that?" "What about stones Scott, they retain heat. I've noticed this when we have made a fire, the stones round the edge remain hot for ages." "Good thinking Gabrain, that's the kind of idea we're looking for, now what else?" "Animals. The animals seem to survive okay outside in the snow. Sheep, cattle, even the Eider ducks and they walk on the ice!" "Brilliant Gabrain!" I exclaimed as his response gave me some new ideas. His mention of sheep and ducks in particular has stimulated me to think of sheepskin jackets and eiderdown quilts and quilted clothing. These would certainly help ward off the cold and should be easy enough to fashion given the availability of the raw materials. I patted the boy on the back and he flashed a wide smile. Nothing would do but that we should immediately set out to try and find some Eider duck nests. I guessed that these would be lined with down from the ducks and therefore should be a rich source of one of the materials we wanted. I snagged one of Kirsty's rush baskets and we headed out to scour the loch-side for our prize. After several hours the basket was full and we returned to the house to show the girls how well we had done. "Very good Scott, but why have you been harvesting duck nests?" Asked Kirsty. "You will appreciate this once you have put in a little work my dear!" I responded." I explained to her that I wanted her to sew together some linen to make a cover big enough for the bed. The down was then to be emptied into the linen and its distribution evened out before cross stitching should be used to make sure the down didn't all move to the bottom of the 'quilt'. I suggested the down should be boiled first to make sure any germs were killed off before it went into the linen. I knew one basket of down wouldn't be enough so Gabrain and I went out again to collect more nests. Several days later we had two down quilts and had tried them on the beds. Everyone agreed they made a huge difference and Eilean and the girls took it upon themselves to share the idea with other women in the camp. I suggested they also think about making quilted jackets and trousers as they would be good for going out in the cold. Gabrain and I left the womenfolk to spread their new find and went out into the fields to find some of my shepherds. This proved to be a wasted trip as the shepherd informed me that all of the sheep that were slaughtered for food were slaughtered up at the camp and their hides cured there too. So, we made our way back to the settlement and asked where we might find the slaughterhouse. I had never been to this place before, didn't even know it existed. We found the tanner in the remotest corner of the camp and I was reminded why when the smell caught our noses. "Yuck!" Cried Gabrain. Yuck indeed. We took a number of already cured sheepskins from the tanner and made our way back to the house. The womenfolk turned their noses up at the smell but agreed to wash the skins for me after I told them what I intended to do with them. It took several weeks but eventually we had four sheepskin jackets that fitted us and four pairs of ugg boots, soled with leather. During those weeks, while the girls and Eilean were making our sheepskins, Gabrain and I had been working with the smith to create a basic hand-pump. Our success pleased me as I could think of a number of uses for this - serving ale from a barrel was one! - and the smith and Gabrain were impressed with what the pump could do. "Scott, how did you think of this idea?" Gabrain asked me, his inquisitive nature showing itself again. I thought quickly of a feasible explanation. "Well Gabrain, you must spit sometimes?" "Of course I do." He replied. "What do you do immediately before you spit?" He thought for a second before responding. "I suppose I take a breath." He said. "Exactly! You take in a breath of air and then force it and the spit out of your mouth far quicker and with more force than you took it in. It's the same principle with the pump. It takes in some liquid into a chamber and then when we push down on the handle the chamber is compressed and forces the liquid out under force just like you and I would spit."" That seemed to be believable as an explanation because he nodded in understanding and let the matter rest The next big event at Aird Driseig was a dramatic message from Colmgil to say that Saxons were advancing through Cowall and Bute, perhaps partly in retaliation for the raid into Northumbria some weeks ago. I had Niall begin to raise the lordship and sent a message to Lachlan to do likewise in Kintyre. I wasn't yet sure just how many men the two additional lordships could muster but I asked that the maximum possible be turned out. I also despatched a message to King Fergus to advise him what was going on and to request assistance should I need it. A day later I was ready to cross Loch Fyne into Cowall to see for myself what the position was. The girls once more gave me a passionate send off with fierce hugs and demanding kisses. When I turned to the door I took in the sight of Eilean standing there, her head bowed submissively as usual. I strode to her and lifted her chin to land a kiss on her lips. I looked deeply into her eyes and a silent message passed between us. If I returned I would be with her and she knew and accepted it. The womenfolk came to the door to see me off and stopped as I did when we all noticed Gabrain standing outside the door, his sword and targe at the ready. "Gabrain, what is this?" I asked him. "What?" He replied, playing the innocent. "You don't think you're coming with me do you?" "Of course! The Saxons are attacking my lands, my people. I must go to their aid." "No Gabrain, you are too young. You'll have plenty of opportunity for battle later I can assure you. For now you must remain here at Aird Driseig and defend my camp while I go to try and defend yours." He wheeled away in disgust knowing from my tone that I wouldn't change my mind. I boarded the longship with some one hundred and twenty Knapdale men, one hundred of them now long bow archers and we made the short crossing of Loch Fyne, landing at Kilfinan Bay on the Cowall peninsula. I decided to camp here while scouts went out and messengers took to horse and ship to advise Colmgil and Lachlan where I was. Two days later and another three hundred Knapdale levies had joined me and two of my longships were off to Campbeltown to ferry the Kintyre men across. Colmgil had rallied some two hundred and fifty men from the Cowall and Bute lordship, a number I was disappointed in given the size of the lands. Still, I could not really blame some for trying to remain to protect their homes and possessions. Scouts had come in to advise that there were about five thousand Saxons, currently they were making their way down Glendaruel, only some seven or eight miles away. I fretted as I waited for Lachlan; thinking furiously about what I could do when so heavily outnumbered. I couldn't rely on support reaching me from the King in time so the people of Cowall and Bute were dependent on me. Lachlan arrived with three hundred Kintyre men, including the young Lord, Echdach mac Aed. I immediately sent the longships back to Aird Driseig to ferry some additional horses over and to urge the camp to begin to make as many additional arrows as they could. My scouts kept up a flow of information so I knew the Saxons were moving cautiously, swinging eastwards at the foot of Glendaruel, probably aiming at Dun Uin. I was poring over my maps, looking for any advantage I could. I made up my mind on what needed to be done in the first instance. I called for Lachlan and Colmgil and outlined my plan. They would take the majority of the men and march as quickly as they could across the peninsula to the shores of Loch Striven. I would send the ships round to ferry them across the very narrow loch to get ahead of the Saxons while I remained behind with fifty archers to try the old 'hit and run' tactic, wearing the Saxons down and hopefully reducing their numbers. The longships returned with horses and we mounted up to go play some games with the Saxons. I sent the longships, with their additional cargo I had ordered, round the peninsula to rendezvous with the troops on Loch Striven. The archers and I rode towards Cruach nan Caorach, a hill that rose just over fifteen hundred feet that seemed to be on the Saxon line of march. My archers 'sniped' at them from the hill and we picked off a few, halting their advance for a while, which would help give Lachlan and Colmgil more time to get the main body of men into position. Mounting up, we rode through the marshy ground at the head of Loch Riddon and set up an ambush near Ormidale. My military knowledge was almost non-existent but I had read a bit and thought about something called enfilade fire and cross fire. To enfilade fire you fire along the long axis of your target. That way raising or lowering your aim will still have a chance of hitting the enemy, just at a different point in their lines. Cross fire was just having fire come at the target from two different sides. I decided to use a bit of both and split the archers into two groups of twenty-five, some twenty yards apart. I thought this formation would have the maximum impact. We waited for the Saxons to come, a tense wait of some two hours as the Saxons were moving even more slowly given our first attack. I had paced out the distance on the ground in front of us and marked one hundred and two hundred yards with small cairns of stone. We let the Saxons get midway between the cairns and then stood and unleashed a volley of arrows. We didn't wait to see the effect of the volley but instead ran for the trees where we had hidden our horses. We mounted up and rode out of there before the Saxons could respond. I risked a look over my shoulder and saw we had done not too bad. Fifty archers, three arrows each in the volley, and perhaps a hundred Saxons down. I knew they wouldn't fall for that kind of attack again so easily. Instead I led the archers in a circuit northwards then westwards to get behind them. We dismounted and then ran to catch them up, loosing another volley before dashing back to the horses and riding away. We hit them from various positions four times that day, killing or wounding perhaps as many as three or four hundred Saxons. It seemed a pathetically small dent in the overall numbers we faced. The Saxons camped for the night at the head of Loch Striven and I let them settle before launching one last attack on them. I took a pitch torch and crawled through the darkness along the side of a hill named Cruach nan Cuilean. I had agreed signals with the archers so they could adjust their aim on the camp. The signals were basic, one thrust up for slightly higher elevation, one to the left to swing round that way and so on. My lighting the torch was the signal for the archers to begin firing, using the Saxon campfires as their initial targets. My plan of being range finder came to naught when I realised I couldn't actually see the arrows coming down. I doused the torch and made my way rapidly back to my men. I let them exhaust their arrows before we mounted up and rode off slowly, almost completely circumnavigating Loch Tarsan. We met up with the main host in a narrow glen between two hills, Sgorach Mor and Cruach Neuran, both almost two thousand feet high. Another two hundred Cowall and Bute men had arrived so we had around twelve hundred men to take on perhaps four and a half thousand Saxons. I wasted no time in making my final arrangements. I despatched fifty archers to each of the towering hills, ordering them to hold the high ground until their arrows were used up and then to charge the Saxons from both sides. The longships had brought a stock of arrows with them and each long bowman had twenty arrows to fire. I had other men dig six deep trenches in the middle of the glen and called for some volunteers for another of my secret weapons. With nothing left to do I wrapped myself in my plaid and fell asleep, exhausted. I rose with the dawn and went forward to survey the likely battlefield. My stomach was churning with nerves as I knew we were heavily outnumbered, the odds were I was going to face my death this day. My thoughts were cheered by the scenery though; I would never grow tired of looking out over this country of mine. It was well worth spilling my blood for, my heart's blood if need be! We waited for the Saxon host to rouse itself and make its way towards us. If they were heading for Dun Uin they would need to take this route. I climbed Cruach Neuran and spoke with my archers as I looked for signs of the enemy. The archers were in good heart. I realised that these men trusted me, my judgement, my leadership and their trust was so strong already that they were willing to stand with me despite the odds. It was a humbling experience. The Saxons appeared an hour or so later, my hit and run tactics and my night attack perhaps reducing them to around four thousand. It was still a huge number for my twelve hundred to take on. I made my way hurriedly back down the hill to the main host; just in time to see the Saxons come into view before us. They halted to take stock of what they faced and I played one of my last cards. I had called for a hundred cattle skins to be loaded onto the longships on their last journey from Aird Driseig; they were highland cattle skins, longhaired. I had a hundred of my men wear the skins as cloaks, the long hair outwards and sent them up Cruach Neuran in plain sight of the Saxons. They were ordered to creep back as quickly as they could once they were out of sight of the enemy and I then sent them right back again, the skins turned inside out this time. When they returned secretly again I had them complete the same journey once more without the skins. I repeated this process with a different hundred men going part way up Sgorach Mor three times. My hope was that the Saxons would now believe that there were at least three hundred men on each of the hills, discouraging them from trying to assault the high ground. I hoped this would buy my long bow archers some additional time to fire. When all the men had returned from the hills I was left with fifty archers on each hill and eleven hundred men, seventy-five of them mounted, in the glen. We faced four thousand. The Saxons obviously liked the odds because they didn't wait any longer; they began to advance towards us. I was thankful my archers were battle hardened as that meant they let the Saxons advance deeply into the glen before they opened fire. When they did it was bedlam. The height advantage of the archers only added to their hitting power and we watched as bloody ruin rained down on the Saxons. I had calculated the arrows; one hundred archers with twenty arrows each equalled two thousand. I couldn't hope for a better hit rate than perhaps one in three so maybe another six or seven hundred Saxons would fall. That still left over three thousand against my eleven hundred. The Saxons had three choices under the barrage of arrows. Retreat, lie down and try and cover themselves up or charge forward. To their credit they chose the latter, screaming their slogans and heading directly towards us. I waited for my last secret ploy to take effect. Several hundred yards in front of my main host were the six deep trenches I had had dug. The trenches were covered by a screen of wood, which in turn was covered by the turf that had been cut before the trenches were dug. Eighteen very brave men were in these trenches, six teams of three. Inside each trench was a large clay pot full of cooking oil. On top of each pot was a hand pump linked to a narrow iron tube by a linen joint. One man in each trench had a pitch torch ready to light. As the Saxon front neared the trenches my men threw off the wood screen and turf and one man emerged from each with the iron tube pointed at the screaming enemy. I sat my horse admiring the courage of these six men, standing their ground in the face of such a charge of thousands, not even sure if my idea would work. If it didn't they would be dead in seconds. My pride in their courage and belief in my ideas formed a lump in my throat as I waited anxiously to see what would happen. As the Saxons closed on the trenches, one man in each trench began to pump the hand pump furiously while the men with the torches sparked them up and lit the stream of oil that had begun to jet from the iron tubes. The men with the tubes sprayed the resulting stream of fire from side to side, covering hordes of the first line of Saxons before elevating the tubes and spraying the stream of fire over their heads to cover those behind. The men around me were dumbstruck at this, frozen in place by the fiery carnage in front of their eyes, as was I. I had warned the men with the makeshift flame-throwers that I didn't know what would happen when the oil in the pots ran down and allowed air in. The flames could easily run back into the pot with potentially disastrous consequences. My orders were that they were not to push their luck but to make the initial strike and then abandon their positions and try to rejoin the main host. As it was I think they had waited too long but at last they dropped the iron tubes and I was glad to see all eighteen running back towards us. The Saxons meantime were in retreat, shocked, overwhelmed by the archery barrage and then the very fires of hell. The arrows had stopped as they neared our front but now they rained down again briefly as the Saxons ran from the field. And then I watched open mouthed as my fifty archers on each side began to run screaming down the slopes of each hill at the enemy. The Saxons had taken losses, big losses. But there were still some thousands of them and my one hundred were charging them! I roused myself from the stupor that seemed to have settled over me at the magnificent, the glorious charge. I had already split the horsed men into three groups of twenty-five and I know urged each group forward. Each of us formed an arrow shaped wedge as we began to gain momentum; horses shying somewhat as we crossed the burning bodies and grass just beyond the trenches. In the event, the mounted units and I met the Saxons before the archers and we rode at full gallop through them, scything Saxons down with our swords as we went. Once through the host I tried to wheel my group to ride back through the Saxons the other way. I managed it but not without difficulty and we were back at the gallop to spread mayhem through the remaining Saxons, cutting them up into smaller groups, smighting their leaders where we could. The main body of infantry was also now pouring forward to engage the Saxons and this proved to be the final straw. They scattered, some throwing themselves into Loch Tarsan only to drown, most streaming back the way they had come. I let my horse chase after them, hacking men down as they ran, slaughtering many of them in a lesson they wouldn't forget in a hurry I was sitting my horse surveying the scene when I felt myself dragged to the ground. I turned to find myself in Lachlan's arms, his face grinning wildly as he hugged me to him. "Scott, the seanachies will make a song of this that will be sung down through the ages. Every one of us believed in you, even in the face of five thousand Saxons. And we were right to do so." He dropped to his knee and took my hand between his in the traditional sign of fealty. "On my oath my great Lord, I am your man for life." I was much moved by this display from such a hardened veteran and I pulled him to his feet to hug him in return, both of us with tears in our eyes. ------- Chapter 19: Winter I waited with the Knapdale men in the same Kilfinan Bay where we had landed, waited for the return of my longships. They had embarked the Kintyre men and were taking them back to Campbeltown. There were high spirits in the camp, despite the light rain that was falling steadily. Colmgil and the Cowall and Bute men were also still with us and they were celebrating the defeat of the Saxons and the defence of their lordship with some vigour. I had sent for Gabrain, thinking it was important for him to be seen as part of all this, a part of his lordships' success. When he arrived the Cowall and Bute men cheered him all the way up from the loch-side and by the time he got to me he had a huge grin on his face. "Well met my Lord of Cowall and Bute," I said to him, extending my hand and grasping his forearm in a hearty handshake. "Well met indeed my Lord of Knapdale and Jura. I see you have been putting these ruffians of mine to some gainful use! Not before time I say." He laughed as he said it and those around us laughed with him. "You have stout fighting men in your lordship Gabrain, they acquitted themselves bravely and have taught the Saxons a harsh lesson I think." "Tell me, tell me all of it Scott, from the beginning." I sat with Gabrain and recounted each step of the battle with the Saxons, ending with the last two days of mopping up remnants of the force and putting these to the sword too. As usual, Gabrain was full of questions, eliciting details at each point and looking thoughtful as he stored the information away for later use perhaps. He walked among his men, greeting many by name and it was clear he was well liked by all. I looked on and once more thought that he would grow into a good leader for these people. Our return to Aird Driseig was not much longer delayed and the girls and Eilean were waiting at the loch-side for us as I leapt over the side of the ship and ran the last few steps to the shore. Kirsty and Fifi ran into my arms and I hugged them to me, looking over their heads to see Eilean adopting her submissive posture once again. I kept an arm round each of the girls as I steered them over beside her. "I am pleased to see you once again too, Eilean. There have been times in the last few days when I thought my time on this Sainted earth were over and I ached at the thought of leaving all three of you behind." Eilean blushed but a smile came to her lips. There was much cheering and singing as the Knapdale men came ashore and started to make their way up to the hall-house. I called for quiet and announced that a feast should be prepared so that we could celebrate our victory properly. That met with unanimous approval and I left them all to prepare the feast while I retired to the house with the womenfolk and Gabrain. The boy was excited and was trying to tell the women the story of the Cowall battle all in a rush. I listened and observed that he stuck to the facts, unusual in this time where huge exaggeration was the norm. He was expertly summarising the key stages and incidents that ultimately led to the Saxons' defeat. As we were walking up the hill I noticed that there had been a change in the warehouse. Fewer barrels of salt were evident and there was now a large mound of white-ish looking soil. Gabrain caught me looking at the warehouse and another huge grin lit up his face. "While you were away enjoying yourself in my lordship Scott, somebody had to look after your trade interests here." He said. All five of us walked over to the shed to look more closely at what it held. The mound was more crumbly rock than soil I now noticed. "So, the merchant returned did he?" "Indeed and I thought you would want to make this trade for I knew how much you wanted this limestone." "And what did you give in return for it?" I enquired. "The merchant accepted twenty barrels of salt and two hundred bars of soap." Gabrain responded, his chest puffing up with pride at what he considered a great bit of bargaining. I had already decided on a trade of only six barrels of salt and half the soap that Gabrain had agreed, but I tried to keep my disappointment from my face so as not to upset the boy. He was watching me closely and had a keen eye, as I am sure he sensed I thought the trade was too high. Rather than get upset however, he opened his hand in front of him with a flourish to display three large, but thin gold coins. "I did manage to get him to throw these shiny coins into the bargain as well." He said and then once again he was laughing. Now I was impressed. I had also thought to take some of the merchant's gold from him but had not thought I would get three coins for the trade Gabrain had made. He was turning out to be a hard bargainer after all. "My job had been made easy for me Scott, because he really wanted your goods and he knew just how unimpressed you were at the idea of trading for coins. He must have thought in your absence he could push through a trade and be away before you returned so he almost begged me to take two coins. I held out for three and he gave in." "Remind me never to try and bargain with you my Lord." I said to him and could see he was pleased that I was clearly now impressed by his prowess at trade. I was also impressed by Gabrain's leadership skills. How the camp had let him take charge in this of the trade, accepting the decisions of a ten-year old was a clear sign of his natural leadership talent. I made a mental note to make sure his studies continued in the hope that these might help build and shape the boy so he could reach his full potential. The feast that night was a great one with large quantities of food, ale and uisge beatha. After countless courses of different fish and meats I was absolutely stuffed, sitting enjoying a beaker of ale when a sennachie stood up on a table with a stringed instrument and looked around him. I was surprised at how quickly the noise in the hall died away, giving him almost total silence. He plucked a few chords and began to sing. The Saxon host came over the border Fifteen thousand was their number They marched their way through Cowall's fair lands Murder and rape were their only plans Cowall called for mac Fergus's might He took on the Saxons by day and by night His thousand men had no thoughts of losing And met the Saxons on a field of their choosing So Knapdale men flighted their arrows At the Saxon host, caught in the narrows The long bows sang again and again And long will fair Cowall honour these men Then Saxons charge - furious, screaming All down the glen, their warriors streaming To turn back this tide, the field had six holes Hiding inside them, six hardy souls Oh never has Scotland witnessed such valour Of the six who answered Scott's call in that hour They stood there in silence as thousands drew near Nor blinked, nor sweated, nor showed any fear And then when it seemed that their fate had been sealed mac Fergus's weapons were at last now revealed The Saxons were charging, their eyes wild with ire But six Knapdale men consumed them with fire The Saxon host fled, a coward's retreat But worse was to follow, sealing defeat The hundred brave archers now charged down the hill And mac Fergus's horse charged with a will Saxon bodies were hewn asunder Knapdale hooves drummed like the thunder Sword steel and spears flashed in the light As one thousand Scots now joined in the fight Oh Dalriada, how blessed are we For the heart of these men who helped keep us free mac Fergus had won, restored Cowall's order Only five hundred Saxons returned o'er the border When the man finished his song there was uproar in the hall, bedlam, wild acclaim. Cheers rang out and the sennachie was asked to sing it through again. I supposed this was part of the oral tradition, to record deeds in song and verse rather than on paper. I had noticed some wild exaggeration in the claim that there had been fifteen thousand Saxons and wasn't sure the verses quite scanned in places but I guess he did well in coming up with something so quickly. This was a first hand look at how legends were made I thought, through some brave men and a minstrel who felt he had poetic license. The feasting and singing went on long into the night but I felt myself growing tired and not a little drunk so I headed for my bed. Nobody noticed as I walked unsteadily up the hill singing softly under my breath: O Flower of Scotland When will we see your likes again? That fought and died for Your wee bit hill and glen And sent them homeward... I experimented over the next few weeks with the limestone. I roasted some to make quicklime and then ground it down into fine powder. While mixing some of the powder with sand and water I could feel the skin on my hands burn and I immediately plunged them into a nearby bucket of water, rubbing them together vigorously to remove all traces of the mortar. That was a lesson learned. I would need to avoid direct contact with the stuff. Gabrain continued to trail around after me, taking note of what I was doing. My next test was to use some of the mortar to bind some of my new bricks together. I wanted to test that the mortar held the bricks together well and also to see how long it took to dry out and set. I tried four various mixes so that I could compare how well they worked. My plan was to discard any mix that dried too quickly as I thought that would indicate it would be likely to crumble before long. Also out would be any mixes that took too long to set, as that would make the job of building difficult. One of the mixes seemed just right to me and I thought we were in business. The next thing to do was to decide on what to build, where to build it and when. I decided I needed to draw up some plans, to think about a structure and make sure I had worked through the dimensions and design. That reminded me that I had previously thought about making some paper so that I could make notes. Now was as good a time as any to give papermaking a try. I spoke to the smith and builder and between us we designed a 'kit' for making paper. It consisted of two wooden square frames, almost like picture frames between which linen was stretched to form what was in effect a sieve. A heavy metal stamp-press was forged to match the dimensions of the wooden frame so that we could squeeze as much water out as possible. I had Kirsty, Fifi and Eilean strip, shred and pound the fibres of a great many flax plants. We then boiled these up in water to make a 'flax soup' and carefully ladled this soup onto the wooden sieve until we had a uniform spread of flax fibre particles covering the frame. The trick here was to get sufficient depth of the particles to form a sheet of paper without any weak spots but also it shouldn't be too thick either. After I had used the press to squeeze out as much of the remaining water as possible, I lifted it to find a pretty good sheet of flax paper. I hung the sheet up carefully close to the forge so that its heat would help dry out the paper. Gabrain and I repeated this process until all of the flax soup was used up. By that time we had six quite large sheets of paper hanging beside the forge and I was satisfied we could make paper at will. I also knew there was a plentiful supply of woad around from which I could extract dye for use as ink. After the paper had dried we carefully folded it and cut along the folds with our dirks to make a stack of smaller sheets of paper. Each of the large sheets cut down into nine smaller sheets so we already had forty-five sheets of paper - a hitherto unknown quantity for anyone at Aird Driseig. All during the paper production my brain had been ticking over ideas on what to build. I had settled on having a go at using the bricks and mortar to build a small additional store shed. It would be small enough that it could be finished quickly but still big enough to learn any lessons that might need to be learned in terms of the future use of bricks and mortar. My design was simplicity itself but with a hidden twist I thought would come in useful. I kept to straightforward rectangular shapes and for the visible shed there would be two windows in the long wall that faced south to let in light. A doorway was planned at one end. Instead of a 'peaked' roof I planned one sidewall higher than the other so that a sloping roof of timber could be put on and then thatch put over that. Gabrain played his part at every stage, offering his ideas and establishing some ownership of the project for himself. Together we measured out and marked where the foundation for the shed would go. I commandeered some of the archers to help dig out the space for the foundation. Their arms and shoulder strength were already quite remarkable and they made short work on the digging. There was some disquiet about the fact that I urged them to go deeper and deeper, almost twenty feet down so that ladders and buckets were needed to remove soil. I 'rewarded' them for their efforts by letting them haul in crushed stones to line the bottom of the hole and then tip gravel over the top of these to make a pretty solid foundation. All of the men were treated to as much ale as they could drink as a thank-you! For the brickwork I thought it best if we left things to my builders although Gabrain was desperate to help them and there was no way I was going to stop him. The builders were delighted with the boy and patiently explained their art, the need for the plumb line, the approach to building up the walls gradually. They of course were learning new skills themselves. Previously they had been used to using raw stone and mud as their building materials, much of their skill being in choosing just the right stones to go together to form walls. Now with uniform bricks and the mortar they were able to build much quicker and with some ease. I let them build solid walls on all four sides up to a height of six feet and then had them cover this over with wood to form a thick flooring with a two foot square hole only leading down in to the bottom chamber. I explained I wanted then to build me a wooden 'tower leading up from this level to ground level and they set about doing so, Gabrain pitching in to help. The smith had also been busy making a metal ladder that was fixed to the inside of the tower so that I could climb all the way down to the bottom chamber. Once the 'tower' was finished, the archers filled the hole in with the soil they had removed to just below ground level. I then had them put in more stone to create a second foundation and then the builders began on the shed proper, at least the bit that would be visible above ground. Gabrain continued to enquire what the purpose of the underground room was and I explained the concept of a 'cellar'. He saw the use such a space could be put to but questioned why it needed to be so deep? I let him try to puzzle it out for himself. The potter had made several plates of glass for me and the builders adjusted their brickwork to accommodate these. Wooden frames were set into the brickwork and the glass would be fixed in between these frames and a second frame that would be added later. The speed with which the shed took shape had Gabrain hopping up and down with excitement. The only respite was when the builders had him actually lay some of the bricks as then he became completely focussed on his task to the exclusion of all else. Within a few weeks the outside of the shed was finished and the camp all gathered to admire the work. It really did look very neat, uniform brickwork and the addition of the glass windows made it stand out. I heard many comments suggesting the shed was too good to use for storage and that it should be used as a house instead. I re-assured my people that we would begin a programme of building houses that were of an even better design than the shed and that seemed to cheer them up. "Besides," I told them, "this building has a special design built into it that we will all find useful when the summer comes." That received quizzical looks but none questioned me. I discussed with the builders the use of a slightly different mix of the mortar for the floor of the shed. Adding more water almost made it into concrete or cement and they were able to 'tamp' it down to form a smooth and even surface over the foundation stones and gravel. Using wood, they formed a frame around the top of the wooden 'tower' which had now in effect become a wooden 'shaft'. I worked with the smith and a rope maker to fashion a simple pulley system fixed onto the roof beams immediately above the shaft. We must have got the mix of the flooring wrong however because it took over a week for it to set. Another lesson learned. I had noticed the weather turning increasingly cold as the days and weeks rolled by and our first snow was not long in coming. When it did it was a significant fall, almost a foot deep and the fresh water stream was also frozen over. I now had my opportunity to let Gabrain see what the cellar under the store shed was designed for. I had a team of men begin to use their axes to cut large blocks of ice. The blocks were transported to the store shed and we used the pulley to lower them down into the cellar. "Why are we doing this Scott?" asked the ever-curious Gabrain. "The reason I put the cellar so far down is that I'm hoping the large quantity of ice will reduce the temperature sufficiently to keep it frozen down there all year long, even through the summer. If it works we will be able to keep meat and the like down there and it will last longer before going bad." "Where did that idea come from?" "Haven't you noticed how things seem to be preserved in ice?" "I can't say that I have but I will look out for signs now that you have told me." Kirsty had to adjust her sheepskin coat a little to accommodate her growing bulge as her pregnancy was now some five months along. We all fussed over her, making sure she kept warm and well fed. The days were short and filled with chores such as helping to keep the livestock fed and the hunting of wolves that sought to take every opportunity to help themselves to our animals. Gabrain and the girls kept up their studies with our friendly monk and weapons practice was not cut down. There was also time to sit with men in the hall-house and discuss my improvements and plans to go further. The impact of the mounted men against the Saxons had brought home to them why I wanted to breed more horses and try to have our entire host mounted in future. I think most of my ideas had found favour in that they brought increased food or made things easier. There was still some scepticism over things like boiling water, heating milk, using soap and putting blocks of ice twenty-foot down a hole! Gabrain and I worked on making snow shoes for a bit of fun and they worked quite well, making walking in the thick snow much easier. There were two things I welcomed in particular about the winter. There was a let-up in the fighting and the Scottish scenery looked just as good covered in snow as it did in the summer! I was also pleased to see that my blocks of ice had lasted several weeks without thawing even the tiniest bit. Maybe my home made freezer was going to work. There were long hours to sit and think too and often Gabrain and I would sit outside, well wrapped up in our sheepskins, quilted trousers and ugg boots. I mused on some familiar issues. I had not taken things with Eilean any further as I was beginning to form a theory about her submissiveness, one I hoped was wrong. It could be that all she had known of sex was brutality from her husband and therefore thought being taken roughly was the norm. That thought left me very sad. To not have known the kind of soft gentle lovemaking that Kirsty and I often shared would be a shame indeed. My legacy was another thing that took up a lot of my thoughts but now from a slightly different perspective. I knew from some of the SOL stories I had read that characters often thought about what impact their actions would have on the future. Here too I had these thoughts. I was glad that I was doing something positive for the Scots in the ninth century but would it ultimately lead to disastrous changes in the future? So passed my first winter in this timeline, some of it full of joy, some of it dark and brooding. I looked forward to the spring! ------- Chapter 20: Strategy @9th Century I remembered that I had once thought that all the ingredients for pasta were available to me. After all it was only eggs, flour and water. With little else to occupy the dark hours of the winter evenings I decided to treat all of to one of my favourite and simplest of dishes - tagliatelle. My first task was to secure a rolling pin but that wasn't difficult as many used them when making bread. I was able to scavenge some dried mushrooms, some cooked ham and even some wild oniony type plant. Access to cream was also quite straightforward. The womenfolk and Gabrain were gathered round watching me with amusement. Their comments were quite derisory, suggesting I was doing women's work - even the girls. Women's liberation was obviously some way off! I mixed up the flour, eggs and water and kneaded the resulting dough very thoroughly. Once I had rolled the dough out I simply used my dirk to cut it into strips of the required breadth then I hung these up to breathe for a little while. The ham, mushrooms and oniony thing were cooked quickly over the fire and then set aside to keep warm. A pot of salted water was already boiled and I now put it back over the fire and then dropped the tagliatelle into it, boiling the pasta for only a few minutes. Gabrain helped me carry the pot outside to drain the boiling water off and I then added the cooked ham, mushrooms and onion before pouring cream over all of it, tossing it lightly to ensure the tagliatelle was well coated. The looks on their faces when they tasted it was a picture, Gabrain especially wolfing his portion down and anxiously glancing at the pot in the hope that there might be a second helping in the offing. There was plenty more to go round. One night Gabrain and I were reviewing his lessons with the monk so that I could re-assure myself that the content was appropriate to his development. He told me he had already made significant progress in reading and writing and nothing would do but that he showed me his skills. He rushed to get some paper, ink and a feather quill that we used for writing and showed he could write quite well indeed, his script neat and flowing clearly. Now that we had the paper out I had an idea that young Gabrain and I might have a 'brainstorming' session. I almost laughed out loud when this twenty-first century management jargon popped into my head. Basically Gabrain and I were going to sit down and think up some ideas that would help improve things for our people. He became very excited at this; anything to do with having new ideas was apt to get his attention quickly. "Ok Gabrain, we're going to do a SWOT exercise. Here's how it works. I write down some headings on the paper - I'm putting down strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats - SWOT. Then we consider each one in turn and we shout out anything that comes into our heads that is appropriate to that heading when we think about the security, health and wealth of our lordships. Clear?" "Yes, yes it's clear Scott. Come on, let's get on with it, come on!" "Okay. Strengths. What strengths do you think we have in terms of security, health and wealth for our lordships?" "You." He said, a big smile on his face. I laughed at that but took it as a compliment. The girls and Eilean were intrigued by Gabrain's excitement and enthusiasm and came over to the table to see what we were doing. The more people involved in this kind of thing the better so I explained what we were doing and how they could join in "Okay," I said again to all of them this time, "what do we see as strengths?" "Long bows." "Horses." "Brave men and true!" "Longships." "Trade." We went on for some time, me scribbling down each of the things we thought were strengths. "Now, what do we see as weaknesses?" "We don't know when and where the Vikings or others will attack us." "Not enough men." "Illness, although things have improved, people still die regularly from illnesses." "Skills, we don't have enough of them." "Raw materials." Another few minutes and I had a lengthy list of things we considered weaknesses, more of these than strengths. "Right. What about opportunities?" And so it went on as we generated what we thought were opportunities and then finally threats that we might face. I explained that the next stage was to go through each of the things we had identified and try to think of ways of either building on our strengths, improving things to try and address our weaknesses, exploit opportunities or avoiding threats. That began an enthusiastic session of generating ideas with discussion flowing backwards and forwards, initial ideas being developed, some discarded. Kirsty suggested that my introduction of washing with soap and boiling water was something that needed to be spread wider. Gossip amongst those women who had adopted the use of soap and who had nursed injured husbands; brothers or sons reported that their wounds had healed quicker and without infection whereas in the past infection had been common. She suggested we should do more to communicate these positive effects and seek to get everyone to adopt the idea. She also pointed out that ill health was at its height during the winter months and she asked if this was possibly connected to cold conditions or even to being indoors for long periods in a smoky environment. Fifi suggested that we should find more ways of freeing up women's time so that they could take on duties normally carried out by men. That would help swell the numbers available for fighting and the like. Some of the things she raised as being a big demand on their time included grinding grain, disposing of human waste, washing and cleaning and the making of clothes. She wondered whether there were things we could do to make these jobs easier or faster. I was really impressed by the way they were throwing themselves into this exercise and their ideas were great. I noticed Gabrain's attitude to the women began to change subtly as he too saw them with new eyes and gave them more respect. He was next to come forward with some ideas - suggesting we find areas where the Saxons perhaps had a lot of horses and raid them to steal their stock. He also suggested a system of signalling towers be set up so that we could get messages quicker when the enemy attacked us. His final idea was one as old as the hills. "Scott, if we had some of our people inside the enemy's camps they could give us advance warning of attacks and we could prepare ambushes!" The possibility of setting up a kind of intelligence or secret service hadn't occurred to me but now I had to seriously consider Gabrain's idea. In fact they had all given me food for thought. I wondered if I could take Fifi's idea of women taking on tasks traditionally done by men a stage further. Could they be trained up to fight? Perhaps only for those occasions when our camps might be attacked rather than going off into battle. Our other discussions had sparked more ideas in my head too. I wondered if I could develop a glass lens and some reflective materials that would allow us to make a crude form of searchlight, mounted on a tower? Running water, especially hot running water would be an absolute godsend, as would baths and showers. Could we create central heating - I was sure the Romans had done so - and avoid the noxious smoke from the fires? I knew that a big improvement in history was the introduction of mills for grinding grain. Mills could be powered by wind and sails or even by water wheels. I had been thinking about the safe disposal of waste for months now, positively yearned for the simple convenience of a toilet and some toilet paper. I had two other ideas that I contributed to the session. One was a simple design for Molotov cocktails - although I didn't call them that. The second was a story I told about how I had come across a type of stone that burned and gave of great heat. What I was describing was coal but it would have been difficult to explain my knowledge of it to any other than Kirsty. Kirsty was smiling at me, as she knew I was bringing some of my knowledge from my own time to bear and she was obviously all for it. The others were sceptical though. When we at last began to run out of ideas I went back over the list and watched as their eyes widened at the scale of what they had just helped me achieve. It was a long list and some of the ideas on it very ambitious. But I thought most of them could be turned into reality and if we managed them all the difference would be huge. Each of us was buoyed and excited by the possibilities ahead. Gabrain's idea of a raid to steal horses was one that really appealed to me. It may have been the inactivity of the long winter months or perhaps I was becoming hooked on adrenaline, but I was itching for some action. I wondered whether making some sort of attempt now might not catch unwary Saxons napping, after all nobody seemed to fight or raid at his time of year. I spent time in the hall-house speaking to some of my men to find out if any had knowledge of an area that was rich in horses. My stockmen seemed to know where the best horseflesh, cattle, sheep or pigs were to be found and very quickly I recognised one area kept being mentioned. Lancaster seemed to be the place to trade for good quality horses. Situated on the Saxon west coast, or at least on a firth that led in from the sea, Lancaster was described as a very large settlement, built on the site of an old Roman centre. Before suggesting a raid I tried to think of all the angles and what issues there would be. I thought two longships could sail to this Lancaster and if we towed four of the smaller boats with us we could possibly load up to twenty-five horse in each. An additional one hundred horses would be a huge improvement in my military position and that prospect alone convinced me that an attempt was worth it. I think my sense of itching for action must have been a common one for I hardly needed to make a strong case for the raid before men were pushing themselves forward to volunteer. There were enough and more to man the two longships so I sent for them to be brought to Aird Driseig from their moorings and began to make the necessary preparations for the trip to Lancaster. As part of the preparations I made sure that every member of the raiding party had quilted clothing, sheepskins and Ugg boots. Each man was also told to make himself a pair of snowshoes like those Gabrain and I had made. I asked the girls if there was anyway they could make the sheepskins white so they blended in with the snow and could act as camouflage. There was, and they tended my gear and passed on the instructions to others to do likewise. As the time for setting out was drawing near I could see that Gabrain was starting to lose his excitement. I realised that he suspected that he was going to be left behind again. I had thought about this. The idea was his after all and I could make sure he stayed with the ships rather than get close to any danger of fighting. I had decided he could travel with me but hadn't yet told him, his mother or the girls. I knew there was going to one very happy laddie and three very upset women! The issue came up as we were eating the night before I planned to set sail. I was not surprised that it was Gabrain who pressed the issue, although more in hope than expectation. "Scott, I think I should be allowed to go to Lancaster with you tomorrow!" "Why do you think that Gabrain?" I asked him. "Because it was my idea in the first place and I have demonstrated in my weapons practice that I can look after myself." I had to admit to myself that he did do very well in weapons practice, sometimes even getting the better of his adult teachers with his speed and dexterity. However, he was only ten - well coming up eleven - and he would not be able to hold his own in a true fight. Still, I didn't plan on letting him anywhere near the action. "Okay you can come, but you will stay with the ships when we land and keep away from the Saxons." Gabrain was taken by surprise and didn't say anything at first. The womenfolk were not so slow however and all three immediately started in on me. "Scott, this is not to be borne! He is but a child yet, not old enough to take into battle!" Even the normally submissive Eilean was upset with me. "It is hardly going into battle and you've just heard me say that he will need to stay with the ships - nowhere near any of the possible fighting. He needs to learn these things, as a lord he will need to lead his people and part of being ready for that is by being able to learn of these things." The girls were not happy but they could tell by my tone and the arguments I was putting forward that I thought this trip was important for Gabrain's development. Some further resistance was put up but I could see that they were starting to accept what I was saying. Gabrain meanwhile was dancing round the house, looking out his cold weather gear and making ready for the trip. Eilean treated Gabrain's gear to whiten it too before she sent him to his bed. I thought it was a little incongruous - off on a raid in the morning but sent to bed early the night before. Kirsty and Fifi were particularly friendly in bed with me that night and I took full advantage of both of them several times, sharing myself and them to the full. The weather wasn't too bad when we set off the next morning, Gabrain and I waving to the girls who had come down to the shore. Once we pulled down Loch Gilp a little ways it was all business and the men looked like they had their 'game' faces on. We had two smaller boats linked to each longship but we quickly found the lighter boats were difficult to control so we separated quite quickly and ended up with a longship on either side of the four small boats, bracketing them. Our route took us down Loch Fyne, past the Isle of Arran and out into the open sea. I thought the swells were alarming and felt sure the ship was about to capsize but I seemed to be the only one worried. I smiled to myself grimly as I equated the sensation to that I had sometimes when I had been on a flight. If we hit turbulence I would immediately look at the cabin crew to see how they were reacting. If they remained calm and went about their business I assumed everything was okay, despite the fact my heart was in my mouth. The same approach applied here. All the men seemed relaxed if alert and I told myself it was going to be okay! We sailed on to pass the Rinns O Galloway, Loch Ryan here providing a naturally sheltered anchorage. The seas were high and we faced squalls of rain, high and freezing winds. After three days of weathering the winter's teeth, we angled southeastwards and passed the top of the Isle of Man, slowing our passage so that we held out to sea before great Morecambe Bay until darkness fell. We then had to navigate through some treacherous sandbanks as we aimed directly up the River Lune, moving slowly now lest we run aground. The weather was bitter cold but our layers of quilt and sheepskin did their job very effectively. As at home the snows tended to be beaten back off of the lands immediately on the coast, the wind drifting it inland and the salt spray ensuring the ground remained clear. We could see fields on either side of us as we navigated the many twists and turns in the river. At last I feared to go any further so we beached the boats and sent scouts off to try and find out the lay of the land. I was starting to get worried about how long they had been away when a wheepling whistle, bird-like, called from the darkness to announce their return. A hurried confab let me know that it was as we had hoped. The Saxons were not mounting any kind of guard and there was a fair herd of horses on the clear fields not half a mile away. The snow began to thicken not far past the horses so it was clear that the Saxons had little choice as to where to herd them. Lucky for us. We split up into two groups and I told everyone that if we were split up we should all make our way back to the ships as quickly as possible. We had passed no other ships so I didn't think we would be hotly pursued if we could get back to our craft. Sixty men remained with the boats so we could embark quickly if we had too. Gangplanks were set out to help run horses onto the smaller boats as quickly as we could. Thinking I had covered everything, we set off into the night to rustle us some horseflesh! My scouts had done their job well, that's why it had taken so long. They whispered to me as we crept along that they had completed a full circuit of the field where the horses were and they had found no single guard. This looked as if it was going to be a cinch. Famous last thoughts. Things went well initially, men quietly rounding up horses and starting them towards our ships and boats. I noticed one horse break from the rest and angle away towards the back of the field. A diminutive figure streaked after it. "Gabrain!" I cursed under my breath as I hurried to follow him. The horse was too quick for him and it was soon a fair distance from the main body of horses and men. And then everything went to pot. I remain convinced it was the accumulated smell of over one hundred sheepskin jackets but it was probably just the noise the horses were making. Whatever it was, there was suddenly a raucous chorus of dogs barking and lit torches began to appear, illuminating a fairly large settlement some quarter of a mile away. I desperately ran after Gabrain in an effort to catch him and get back to our group but the headstrong boy would not give up on that one errant horse. By the time I caught him by his shoulders I was horrified to see just how detached we were and worse, a stream of torch carrying Saxons was hurrying towards the field. I knew there was no way to get across the field in front of them so I grabbed Gabrain and dragged him roughly out of the field and into the snow on the other side. We both dropped down to reduce our profile as we watched the Saxons come to the realisation their horses were gone. The Saxons were confused, unsure whether something had spooked the horses or whether someone had spooked the horses. Some of them began to head in the direction of our ships and soon we heard the clash of steel as presumably a rear guard party tried to give the Knapdale men more time to load the horses on the boats. At the sound of the clash yet more Saxons streamed out of the settlement, hundreds of them carrying torches and armed with swords. I estimated there was some three hundred and fifty of them now between Gabrain and me and our ships. Glancing at my watch I saw that it was still some hours 'til daylight but I had a big decision to make now. Should I try to get round these Saxons and down to the ships? Would the ships still be there? I decided that was too risky, particularly with Gabrain in tow. Instead I opted to put as much distance between Lancaster and us as I could before light. We kept low as we scurried back into the darkness, into the deeper snow. After a few hundred yards we halted to put on her snowshoes. It was hard going through the snow as we skirted a hill (Clougha Pike on my map) and then found ourselves on an exposed, windswept moor. We had made perhaps three miles in three hours when the sky began to lighten. I was worried that we were in very exposed country and I headed for a dense patch of woodland some mile and a half ahead. By good fortune we reached the woods without being spotted. We forced our way through tight, strangling undergrowth, some of it hidden under patches of snow and found shelter under an overhanging bank. I sat down and looked closely at my map. I estimated we were about two hundred and fifty land miles from home, a lot of it in hostile territory and through thick snow. I reviewed what I had with me that might help in making the journey. I had my bag with me and it contained my original survival kit as well as my binos. So I had basic gear to start a fire - either cigarette lighter, light anywhere matchers or flint and steel. I had some snares and a fishing line. I had my dirk and a Swiss army knife. I had a compass. Finally, I had some rope. "Gabrain, I could murder you! I warned you to stay with the ships but you couldn't, could you? We are two hundred and fifty miles from home, with no food, probably thousands of Saxons between us and where we need to get to and it's fucking mid-winter!" I lost it a little as I reeled off our problems. I heard a quiet sob and turned to see the boy hugging his knees and looking thoroughly miserable. I knew this wouldn't get us anywhere and certainly wouldn't help Gabrain's development andy so I relented and put my arm round his shoulder, assuring him that everything would be okay, I would get us out of this. ------- Chapter 21: Snow joke walking home I calmed Gabrain down but decided he needed to hear a bit more of a constructive explanation of his actions as part of his education. "Gabrain as a lord and a leader, people will rely upon you. You will need to take tough decisions, often decisions that will put people in harms way. You need to act responsibly. I suggest you need to learn a better approach to decision making than the one you used tonight when you thought it was okay to disobey me. Or the one you used when you blindly followed that stray horse without any consideration for the fact you were becoming detached from the group!" "I just wanted to play my part Scott. I wanted the men to see I was doing my share of the work, taking my share of the risks." "You were doing more than enough by just being on the trip. The men already have a great respect and even love for you and that's just through you acting like, through you being, yourself. You don't have to try and impress them, and if you do so by taking unnecessary risks then you're acting the fool!" I saw him looking at me, a contrite expression on his face. He nodded once. "I know you're right Scott and I'm sorry I've got us into this trouble. I promise I will learn from this and try to do better in future. Now, what are we going to do?" This ability to simply accept that he was wrong and try to move on was very impressive, very mature I thought for an almost eleven year old. I decided the lecture was over with and it was time to get down to figuring out how to get home. I had travelled up and down to England on quite a few occasions in my own time and knew the area we were in fairly well - or that is, I knew the place- names fairly well, not the countryside. It was annoying me that I could have driven to Glasgow in just over two hours and even a train would get me there in three hours. On foot and in deep snow we would be lucky to make eight to ten miles a day. So, almost a month of walking, with no food, one bottle of water and the Saxons to contend with. Well Gabrain, it looks like we're fucked!" I said to him with a laugh. The boy laughed with me, and the tension was broken, the mood lifted. I explained to him the route I proposed to take and the hazards and dangers we would likely face along the way. The most difficult part was perhaps going to be the terrain we were going to have to cross. There were a number of high hill ranges in our path and in winter we would be lucky to find a path through them. At least we were warm, and I thanked god that we had developed the quilted material and the sheepskins. We agreed that we might as well make a start and try to put some further distance between Lancaster and us. There was no sign of a pursuit but I felt more comfortable getting us on the move. Before we started out I stuffed several pieces of dried wood into my bag. Our overhang had kept them dry despite all the snow and I knew dry wood would be at a premium. Our snowshoes helped considerably as we were going through mostly open country where snow tended to drift in places. We set a steady but sensible pace and trudged on and on, eyes peeled for anything edible or for signs of Saxons. That first day we had to detour round two smallish settlements but didn't come across any people. Once more I chose a wood to rest up in, this time for the night. I found enough dry wood to get a fire going and we huddled together and I told Gabrain I would keep first watch. We had been up for a considerable part of the night before so I wasn't surprised when he fell asleep immediately. Hunger pangs were my biggest problem and it was hunger that was perhaps helping me keep my own eyes open. I let Gabrain sleep for six hours and then felt I couldn't keep myself awake any longer so I shook him and we agreed that he would keep watch now while I rested. I set the vibrating alarm on my watch for six hours and curled up beside the fire to sleep. I awoke while it was still dark and I noticed the fire had been tended and there was still a friendly blaze. Gabrain was sitting opposite me, watching me come awake and he grinned as I shook the sleep from my eyes and sat up and I found his grin was infectious. Grinning somehow makes you feel better about things no matter how bad they might be. That day was another day of trudging through snow, on and on. We were following the line of the same River Lune that passed through Lancaster. Its path was almost directly northwards and I thought it as good a trail as any. We only had to detour around one steading in the morning and it was clear the countryside was getting more remote the further we travelled from Lancaster. We had our first stroke of luck that afternoon when we stumbled across a frozen sheep. It looked healthy enough (for being dead!), there was no stink from it and when I tried to cut into its flesh with my dirk it was frozen solid. I took that as a good sign, perhaps the meat would be preserved. I opened my bag and took out the wire saw from my survival kit, using it to sever two of the sheep's legs and trimming these off. We had been climbing steadily throughout the day and trees were now almost non-existent. Conditions were worsening badly as the high winds whipped loose snow from the ground into our faces and I was looking desperately for somewhere to hole up for the night. The best I could manage was a fairly deep ravine that had somehow escaped the drifting of the snow - possibly because it was out of the prevailing wind. This fact meant it was also relatively sheltered for us so I decided not to press on any further but to take the shelter while we could. We had a fair supply of dry wood that we had accumulated and I built us a fire with some of it. I had fashioned the usual ring of stones to retain the fire but this time added a twist by placing a large flat stone in the centre of the circle. The flat stone was now in the centre of the blaze and I was going to use it to cook the sheep. Both legs had partly thawed out and I was pleased that they still smelled okay. If I cooked both now they should last for another couple of days so it looked like we had food for the moment. The smell of roasting mutton soon wafted over us and. having not eaten for a while, our mouths were watering badly. I set up my billycan and began to melt snow for water. This took longer than I thought, as I didn't fully appreciate just how much snow was required to get a full billycan of water. Filling the billy with snow and then melting it only produced an inch or so of water in the can. Still, I had nothing else to do as I waited for the mutton, so I patiently fed more snow into the boiling can until I had enough to fill up the water bottle. Gabrain's face looked strained and he was staring at the meat in the fire. I knew how he felt as my own stomach was grumbling at me to feed it. I burned my fingers as I pulled one leg clear of the fire and hurriedly cut several strips of cooked meat from it before setting it back to continue cooking. I handed one strip of meat to Gabrain and sat chewing on the other myself. The meat itself was tough and stringy but it tasted like filet mignon at that moment. Gabrain also looked a lot happier with something inside him. I allowed us both another portion of meat but then began to carve it as it cooked and set it aside to cool so we could eat it over the next few days. I had one remaining plastic bag in my kit and I used this to store the meat. Once I was satisfied it was all cooked I gave us the treat of each having one of the leg bones to chew on. I believe I was so hungry I was trying to crunch the bone itself. We used up the rest of our wood as we fed the fire that night and then huddled together to share our body heat. Given how remote the area was I didn't think it was necessary to keep watch and we fell asleep together; our bellies quiet for the first time in days. It was hard going the next morning as the area we were walking through was over thirteen hundred feet in places and very exposed. I found myself walking almost at a forty-five degree angle to lean into the wind. We didn't stop to each but rather chewed on some mutton as we trudged on, at last beginning to head downhill a little and the worst of the wind easing. We began to see signs of human activity as we neared the area of Penrith and I assumed there must be a fairly large settlement here. We had to swing westwards to give it a wide berth. The going continued to be downhill and more trees were becoming evident. As the light was beginning to fade I thought I could make out a dense patch of wood ahead of us and I pulled the binos from my bag to check it out. The forest looked dense and a likely place to spend the night if we could just reach it. It was perhaps a mile and a half away and I thought it unlikely we would make it before the light gave out so I took a compass bearing and agreed with Gabrain that we should carry on. We eventually managed to reach the forest but with little opportunity to investigate it to find a good camp spot. Experience suggested the best spots were overhangs. These were normally created through erosion of the soil by streams that weakened tree roots and eventually brought the tree down. As we continued walking I was peering through the darkness, trying to find such a spot and I literally fell into one. I called out a warning to Gabrain and pulled myself up, dusting soil from myself. I had fallen through some thick underbrush and had rolled down an embankment; thankfully halting before I ended up in the water that ran at right angles to my path. I berated myself for this stupidity. I could easily have broken my neck trying to navigate through the forest in the pitch darkness. "Fucking stupid!" I whispered fiercely to myself, shaken by the fall and worried about how much worse it could have been for either Gabrain or me. I called out to let Gabrain know I was okay and to warn him that there was a fairly major embankment in front of him. I told him that he should come forward carefully, on hands and knees if possible. Another lesson learned I thought, I would not leave it so late to find a camp in future. I needed to ensure we were settled while there was still light. I managed to find some wood by touch alone and used some of my precious tinder to start a small fire. The fire gave some light and Gabrain was able to use that to make his way safely down the embankment. Exploring, I found a really good spot for a camp and collected more dry wood, using burning wood from the first fire to get another campfire going at this better spot. I doused the first fire and filled the billycan with water from the running stream, putting it on the new campfire to boil. We finished the last of the mutton, putting pieces on sticks and re-heating them over the fire. We washed the meat down with the last of the water from my bottle. Once the billycan had boiled I used it to re-fill the water bottle for the next day. I gathered some additional wood for the fire during the night and then we huddled together once more to sleep. Two days later two days without food, and we were in the vicinity of Carlisle. I knew this was situated right on the line of Hadrian's wall - a wall built by the Roman's to keep the savage Celts out. The gruelling travel, cold and lack of food were getting to Gabrain and he trudged along beside me, none of his characteristic enthusiasm, energy and good humour evident. I knew that at the worst I needed to find us some food and at best we could do with a day of lying up somewhere to rest and re-charge our batteries. We camped for the night and immediately recognised any fire would be visible from Carlisle - if we could see theirs, and we could, many of them - then they would be able to see ours, so we had to do without one. This was perhaps the most miserable night so far. I had been unable to find suitable wooded cover before nightfall and the best we could manage was a deep fold in the ground. Despite the fact we were out of the worst of the wind, we were sitting on a blanket of snow and the cold began to seep into our bones. We remained awake most of the night, unable to sleep due to the cold and made a start as soon as it was becoming light. We circled Carlisle to the east to avoid it as much as possible and crossed Hadrian's wall in the late morning. "Cheer up Gabrain!" I said. "For all intents and purposes we are now back in Scotland. Welcome home, my Lord." I bowed before him. Gabrain only managed a weak smile in return and I knew he must be really struggling. We staggered on through the thick snow, thankful for the snowshoes or we wouldn't even be able to make the speed we were making. By mid-afternoon I was feverishly looking for a good place to camp, as I didn't think the boy could go much further. I spied a steading, much like those in Dalriada, with a walled enclosure beside it for sheltering animals. I could see that the stone 'pen' contained a number of sheep and I almost let desperation take over my thinking process. We needed food desperately and there it was staring us in the face. But I knew this steading would be a Saxon outpost and there was no way I would be able to get a sheep out of there without being spotted. It wasn't worth the risk although Gabrain's look of anguish as we turned away was almost enough to change my mind. That evening we found a wooded spot on the banks of the River Solway and made camp there for the night. I knew the Solway was famous for its fishing but wasn't sure if there would be fish around at this time of year, in this temperature. I used my rope and the netting from my old tent to rig up a 'fish- trap' and stripped off my clothes to wade out and anchor it in mid-stream. By the time I emerged from the water my skin was practically blue and I used the inside of the sheepskin to dry off and then quickly put on my quilted gear before huddling very close to the fire. It took over half an hour before I began to thaw out. Gabrain was silent and listless and I was really getting very worried about his ability to carry on. At some point we must have both drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew I was waking to find that it was already light. Gabrain was lying asleep beside me, his skin taking on an almost greyish tinge. I fed the embers of the fire until a reasonable blaze was going and then I stripped off again to wade back out into the water. I think I was caught by surprise to find six large fish caught in my net but I quickly secured them and made my way to the bank and out. Somehow the success at catching the fish made the cold more bearable and I was quickly dressed again and began poaching several fish in my billycan over the roaring fire. The smell of the cooking fish roused Gabrain and I saw a spark in his eyes as he saw what I was doing. He almost regained some of his normal eagerness as he sat up, never taking his eyes off of the billycan. I'm sure the fish could have done with being cooked longer but neither of us could wait so I decided it was done and we took it in turn to shovel tasty pink fish-meat into our mouths. The first fish was gone in what seemed like seconds and I quickly put on a second one to cook. We polished off the second one too but took our time over this one. Good food in your belly is a wonderful thing at the best of times. Good food in your belly after three days of starving is out of this world let me tell you. I decided that we would stay where we were, resting up for the day. I forced myself back out into the river to stake out my trap again and returned to cook the remaining four fish, wrapping them whole in my last bag. I turned the bag inside out first so that there would be no contamination from the mutton that had been the last thing in it. Gabrain's face was regaining some colour and I was convinced my decision to rest for the day had been the right one. We shared another fish and banked the fire before squeezing together closely to try to get some sleep. The next morning I decided we wouldn't eat any fish first thing, but rather we should ford the river at this point, picking up my net on the way to see if we had caught anymore of these silver darlings. If we had, we could afford to split another fish between us once we were safely on the other side. Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits! There were two more large silver fish caught in the net when we reached it and we retrieved the net before hurrying across to the opposite bank. While Gabrain was rubbing himself dry I was hurriedly lighting a fire so we could warm up completely and cook our latest catch before continuing our journey. As I was about to douse the fire I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up to see something heading towards the river from the Carlisle side. I quickly snagged the binos and put them to my eyes. "Fuck, Saxons!" I cursed. It seemed as if we were being pursued after all and our day of rest had allowed those following us to catch us up. There were six of them and they were about half a mile from the river. I knew dousing the fire now would simply put up a smoke signal to mark our position so I let it burn and urged Gabrain to ready himself as quickly as possible. We didn't need our snowshoes here on the banks of the river as it was tidal and the salty air was keeping the snow down to a very thin layer. Nonetheless, there was enough for us to leave clear tracks and I knew our pursuers would quickly identify the fire and then have a clear trail to follow behind us. We had set off westwards, in the direction of Annan, and I tried to set a fast but sustainable pace. I let Gabrain go on ahead and paused to search our back trail with the binos. There was still no sign of the Saxons and I guessed that they too had had to stop to warm themselves after fording the river. I hurried to catch up with the boy, my mind thinking furiously about how we could shake off our tail. Another SAS trick sprang into my mind. I had read about an SAS Trooper using this while on a winter exercise in the snows of Norway. I began to look for a likely spot on our trail that would allow me to try this. I spotted what I was looking for. There was an old tree close to the riverbank with a thick branch at about head height directly across the path we were taking. I kept pace with Gabrain as we walked on for a further two hundred yards and then I stopped him. I explained urgently to him that we had to walk backwards to the tree branch. We needed to take great care and place our feet exactly into the footprints we had made walking forward to where we were. This was a slow process and I was beginning to worry at the time we were giving the Saxons to catch up. I could only hope this trick would throw them off our trail or we could be in real trouble. When we reached the branch I carefully boosted Gabrain up so he could crawl along it to the trunk of the tree. I handed him up my bag and then I pulled myself up onto the branch. I looked at our tracks in the snow. For all intents and purposes there were the tracks of two people passing this point and going on into snow. The idea was that the Saxons should follow the tracks and then find that they ran out, simply stopped. The Saxons should think we had either disappeared or somehow managed to fly! I hoped the Saxons would also obscure the outward tracks with their own footprints so that any minor faults we had made when walking backwards wouldn't be noticeable. Satisfied that we had done the best we could I urged Gabrain to edge out over a branch that reached out from the tree in the opposite direction. We lowered ourselves down onto the ground some forty feet away from the point we had left the path. I didn't think the Saxons would be able to see our tracks unless they deliberately cast around this far from the path looking for them. I urged Gabrain to hurry and we put on our snowshoes due to the deeper snow and struck out northwards now to try and put some distance between us. After several hours I decided that it was safe to swing westwards again and we angled our direction to try and pick up the Solway Firth. We emerged onto the coast of the Solway Firth around mid-afternoon and I stopped so that we could each eat one of our remaining fish to try and gain some energy. We stowed our snowshoes, as the snow was once more only a thin covering on the ground and set off following the coastline roughly westwards. I was looking for a place to camp for the night and spotted what looked like a cave some ten feet down the cliff face we were walking along. We managed to get down to the cave easily enough and found it big enough to shelter us and to light a fire in. I was satisfied that our fire could not be seen by anybody coming along the path so thought it was safe and a good idea to light one. We each ate one more fish each before settling down to rest. I think the added stress of the chase had drained my reserves of energy because I couldn't keep my eyes open at all. It didn't feel as if I had slept long when I was roughly woken by someone grabbing my hair and a blade being pressed to my throat. I remember thinking that I was really sorry I hadn't managed to get my young charge back home alive as I prepared to die, when I looked up to see a very familiar face. "Lachlan!" I croaked. "My Lord? Is that you? God be praised, we have found you!" The knife was hastily removed from my throat and the hand removed from my hair. "Lachlan! Is it really you? Tell me I'm not dreaming man! Tell me it's really you!" "'Tis no dream my Lord. I have been beating up and down these coasts for three days now looking for sign of you, the men almost in tears the whole time. Ever since our men called in at Campbeltown to tell me they had lost you at this Lancaster we have thought nothing but of finding you!" "Thank god, thank god. Here is devotion!" "I swore to be your man my Lord and I could do nothing else. You should know that your men love and respect you above all else too. Finding you here was lucky though, the fire was clearly visible from out to sea." "Lachlan, we must be wary, there have been six Saxons trailing us for some days now. They may be close." "Let them come my Lord, there are near two hundred Knapdale men here, fretting about the fact they left you behind and I think they could walk over water to rid themselves of some of the guilt they feel by killing a few Saxons! Come, let us get you aboard ship and home Scott!" "Gabrain, wake up! Gabrain, we are rescued come on!" The boy came round slowly and blinked as he took in the sight of Lachlan and several other men with him. "The Lord Gabrain too! The men have been so distraught at losing you that they didn't even mention he was on the trip! Scott I have to warn you, they are in deep despair. At first there was such confusion and no one noticed you were missing. Each crew thought you were on the others' ship. When it became clear they had left you behind they almost sailed back to Lancaster to take on the whole Saxon host there, but they instead sought my leadership to help come up with a way to rescue you. It is a wonder that you have managed to come so far with the lad and little else to survive on. But your men have suffered these days too, beating up and down the coast and not knowing your fate. Come, tell me your story as we return to the ship." As we walked up the beach where the longships were I could see the grim faces on the Knapdale men. "Well now, what a bunch of depressed looking horse thieves you look." I said, conversationally. It was if a current of electricity had been passed through them as they leapt up and mobbed Gabrain and me. "mac Fergus, mac Fergus!" They cried over and over as they tossed us in the air. At last we were set down again on the beach. "Men of Knapdale, I have learned three lessons on this raid. First, not to take lightly the way things can go wrong and to plan better for such eventualities. Second, young Lords need to be closely watched, as they can be overly headstrong - if well intentioned. Third, that there is nothing quite as welcome as the sight of a band of Knapdale men when you are in sore trouble. It was my own fault that we were separated and cut off. Your devotion in trying to find us warms my heart and more practically has saved me three weeks of walking through snow! You have my undying gratitude, brave men of Knapdale and Jura I salute you all!" That seemed to help assuage their guilt and strike just the right chord as they cheered loud and long. As we embarked I had time to ponder on the whole affair. I began to question my motivation. I was convinced that trade was the way ahead yet I had gladly led a raid to steal horses and had landed myself in a lot of trouble by doing so. Was this time changing my outlook? Was I becoming more warlike? ------- Chapter 22: Dads Our return to Aird Driseig caused quite a stir. The smaller boats with the stolen horses had not stopped off at Campbeltown, but had pressed on for home and had brought the news of my 'loss' at Lancaster. None new what had happened to me, only that I hadn't made it back onto one of the ships. When Eilean had asked, she was told that Gabrain was missing too. The two dragon ships ran up to the newly built jetty, Gabrain and I standing in the prow of the leading ship. Of course we were recognised from the shore and there was a palpable wave of relief/joy that I was sure I could see travelling from the shore up through the camp. Even as the longship kissed the jetty, I saw the door of our house flung open and the three womenfolk come flying down the hill towards us. I turned to Gabrain and grinned. "Now here comes the best bit. You might as well enjoy this because by tonight we will be facing their wrath for being so stupid as to get left behind. Mark my words!" As with other homecomings, the girls all but bowled me over as they swept up to hold and hug me, tears of joy streaming down their faces. If there had been any doubt about how these two felt about me, it would have been washed away when I saw their reaction to my safe return each time. I soaked up the raw emotion that was pouring from them and hugged them back, stroking their hair and backs. I looked over to see that Eilean was hugging Gabrain tightly too, tears likewise streaming down her lovely cheeks. The loch-side was becoming jammed with folk as men poured off the longships and people from the camp came down to welcome our return. We pressed our way through the crowd, exchanging hand/arm shakes with many on our way up to the hall-house. Ale, wine and uisge beatha was soon in plentiful supply and I called for as much meat as could be quickly prepared to feed my hunger. The days on the run with little to eat had been followed by four days on board the longship on very bare rations, and I felt as if I could eat a horse in a single sitting. Kirsty pointed out a man who seemed strangely out of place, caught up in the celebration but oddly not appearing part of it. "A messenger from King Fergus, Scott. He has been here for three days now hoping for your return. He will not tell anyone what message he brings." She told me. I rose from my table and walked over to the man. "You have a message for me from King Fergus?" I enquired. "Yes my Lord. The King told me to tell you your request has been granted." He said. "Excellent, excellent. Come man, join the celebration. Eat and drink before your return to Dunadd." I searched through the crowd for Lachlan and navigated my way through the mass of bodies over to sit beside him. "Lachlan my friend, when are you planning on returning to Campbeltown?" "Perhaps never my Lord. The young Lord Echdach has seen fit to dispense with my services, deeming himself old enough and wise enough to handle his own affairs. I fear we will see trouble from Kintyre at some point." I raised my eyebrows at this news. Lachlan probably had the rights of it, Echdach did have a difficult attitude and had showed no love for me or the Knapdale and Jura men. There had been resentment from the first that King Fergus had given oversight of his lordship to me. But, so be it, at least it meant Lachlan was available to carry out another project that I had set in motion some months before. "Lachlan, I have another service to ask of you if you would." "I am your man Scott, what do you require of me?" I explained what I wanted and he nodded his understanding. "Will tomorrow do or do you wish me to set out at once?" "Tomorrow Lachlan. Tonight this feast is as much in your honour for rescuing Gabrain and me as it is for anything else. I would have the principal attend his own celebration." With that I patted his shoulder firmly and stood to rejoin Kirsty and Fiona. The girls were curious as to the King's message, perhaps fearing it was a call for me to go campaigning again, but I told them it was an issue to do with trade and was nothing for them to worry about. Satisfied with that, they then began to quiz me on what had happened at Lancaster and how Lachlan had managed to find and rescue us. I re-told the tale as something of a light hearted travelog, leaving out the hunger, exhaustion and cold. I did cover the escape from the pursuing Saxons. Food arrived and the girls watched in amazement as I began to stuff my face with dish after dish. They were sure I was going to make myself sick. I could see Gabrain was doing likewise and we caught each other's eye. A look passed between us, the look of two people who had been tested together and had come through their trial, tougher for it. "Tougher to survive." I thought to myself. The next few days were filled with mundane affairs. I met with people to review how my projects were progressing, I watched the long bow archers practice and I watched Gabrain while he studied and while he went through his own weapons practice. There were disputes between people in the settlement that, as Lord, I was expected to settle and I had to apply the wisdom of Solomon to avoid creating lasting ill-feeling between the parties. I had left the girls and Eilean making some new quilted material and was walking down the hill when I spied Lachlan riding towards the camp. He had another man riding beside him and I smiled to myself as I saw another of my plans come to fruition. Continuing down the hill, I met both of them at the settlement gates. I helped Kirsty's father down from his horse and gave him a hearty handshake. "Welcome to Aird Driseig Ian mac Ian." I greeted him. "My sincere apologies that it has taken me so long to convince your Lord of Loarne to let you come." He smiled. "This has all come as a shock to me Scott. Are you really the Lord of Knapdale and Jura? How did that happen? I never thought to see Kirsty again." I put my arm round his shoulders and began to explain all that had happened since I last saw him. I waved a thank you to Lachlan as I led Ian up the hill towards the house. I bid him wait outside and entered the house to find Kirsty. "Kirsty my love, I have someone outside who wishes to see you." She looked at me quizzically but brushed past me to go out the door. Fiona, Eilean and I heard a squeal and I smiled as the women rushed out to see what was going on. I followed and found Ian hugging Kirsty and twirling her round and round. "Father, father! How good, good I say. But how do you come to be here? Are you being hunted? What has happened to the steading?" He laughed as he tried to answer all of her questions, explaining that I had asked King Fergus to intervene and prevail upon Oengus of Loarne to free him of his service so he could come to join his daughter at Aird Driseig. Kirsty launched herself at me, kisses my reward for being so thoughtful. "Now my dear, I think we need to go inside so you can sit and rest yourself. Too much excitement for one in your condition perhaps?" "Aye lassie, it looks as though you are near to term. You should be resting as Scott suggests." Her father agreed. I made pasta for us all that evening, inviting Lachlan too as a thank you for having gone to Loch Melfort to collect Ian. The food went down well with everyone, most having had it before but Lachlan and Ian also declaring themselves ready for a second helping. I couldn't help notice Lachlan stealing glances at Eilean when he thought no one was watching and I smiled at the thought that perhaps my friend had a secret liking for her. That would bear watching and perhaps encouraging. My idea for finding coal and using it to make coke and for other things was something that I turned my attention to next. I knew that there were a good number of open cast coal sites in Scotland so it should be feasible to get a supply without having to mine underground for it. I was studying my maps to try and locate a site that was close to the coast. My thinking was that any find of a reasonable quantity would necessitate transporting the coal by ship. So far the best I could come up with was a site called Dalmellington, but it was still some fifteen miles inland. That started me thinking about how I could transport a load from the site to the coast. The answer was easy for any boy who had been brought up watching westerns on TV - wagons. I had been mulling over in my head uses for the wheel anyway and now this latest problem brought that to a head. I spent a number of days with my builders and some paper working on designs for a basic wagon. I explained the concept of bearings to them as a way to help axles or wheels turn more efficiently. The builders had ideas of their own and were quickly adapting my own designs, improving on them and getting excited by this new project. The most difficult part seemed to be how we would hitch horses to the wagon as I had never paid that much attention to the details when I watched TV. I did know about the concept of a horse collar and thought that would help but apart from that I was stumped and left the builders to mull it over. The smith had already demonstrated he could produce basic pipes and I thought these would be a key element in my plans to produce running water and things like showers. I was delighted to find that he was now working more extensively with steel as well as iron as I thought steel would be a better option for plumbing. I discussed my plans with him in some detail and he was enthusiastic as he began to see the possibilities. Nothing would do but that he produced a mould for a shower rose and immediately began to make one. The seeds that I had received from the merchant had been intriguing me too. I couldn't tell what they were although I could see that there were a range of different types of seed in the pouch. I wasn't even sure where they had come from and whether the plants they potentially could grow would survive in the Scottish climate. My vines were currently stored indoors to avoid the cold weather and I was also thinking about how to propagate them effectively. Perhaps it was the onset of spring but suddenly I was in a rich vein of ideas and the possibility of making a greenhouse popped into my head. "Brilliant!" I thought to myself. "That would give me the best chance of getting the seeds to germinate and grow and would also be safer for bringing on my vines." I immediately began to look for a site to put up a greenhouse and thought the best possibility was just to the side of our house. That would have the added benefit of it being close by. I sat at the table at home and began to draw a simple design - based on the same approach the builders had used in putting the windows in the new store shed. Finding the potter, I shared my design with him and we agreed on how many panels of glass the greenhouse would require. I smiled when he added an extra couple - in case of breakages he said. I was getting a great buzz out of setting all these projects in motion and the next few weeks flew by as I toured the lordship to see how my improvements were taking root elsewhere as well as regularly checking-in with the craftsmen in the various workshops at Aird Driseig. It took the potter two weeks to make all of the glass panels I needed as he had had to bide his time to get access to the forge because the smith was in full swing trying to take forward the plumbing work. I could have had the builders knock up the wooden frames for the glass but thought it better to wait until they were ready and could be matched exactly to the frames. Simple steel nails were used to hold each panel of glass between two frames and we had designed some heavy 'staples' to join the individual panels together. I had a number of men drive in stout wooden corner posts and then help me put the sides up and finally join the roof pieces on too. One end lifted out completely to allow access. We all stood back to look at the finished structure. I was very pleased with it and had no doubt it would function perfectly well as a greenhouse. The men thought I was a bit strange for building a glass 'house' and couldn't quite see the advantages. I tried to explain that it wasn't actually a house but that it would be used for growing plants in, but the idea of growing plants held no interest for them and they merely smiled at me as if this was just another of my weirder ideas. I had a bench made to fit inside the greenhouse and the potter made up some pots and trays that I could use for the various seeds and vines. There seemed to be a number different seed types and I sorted through them to separate them out. I kept one of each type wrapped up in a screw of paper and planted the rest in individual trays. That way I thought I would be able to identify which seed type represented which type of plant that I produced, information that could be helpful later. The snow was all but gone and thankfully the temperature was on the rise. Kirsty was really uncomfortable with her large bump, complaining that her back was constantly in pain. We were all still pampering her as much as we could and I think having her father around was also a big comfort. I was probably the most worried about the impending birth as I knew the kind of advances that had been achieved in my time and couldn't quite believe that birthing in the ninth century was going to be a straightforward affair. Eilean had some experience obviously and there was an older woman in the camp who was the recognised expert in these matters. These two regularly met with Kirsty and advised her what to expect, preparing her ahead of time. As a surprise for Kirsty I had been working with the potter and the smith to design a mould for a steel bathtub. I had promised that they could each have one of the next two tubs made as a reward for producing me one as quickly as possible so that Kirsty could soak in some hot water to relive her backache. I made sure Fiona and Eilean had Kirsty out of the house and I smuggled the tub in and began to boil water over the fire to fill it up. I used several bars of soap to try to produce some suds but with limited success to be honest, then I went in search of Kirsty. There were squeals all round from the womenfolk when they saw the bathtub and Fiona and Eilean helped Kirsty disrobe and settle into the water. She sighed and purred like a cat and we were left having to top the hot water up for her as she refused to come out for over an hour. The women were discussing other possible uses for the tub such as washing clothes, but I had had my moment when I had seen Kirsty's delight when soaking in the hot water and I left them to their plans. I made a startling discovery that week. I had been walking around the camp and its surrounding lands, checking on improvements, particularly the land recovery, when I saw a group of men working on a small patch of land. They had what looked like spades and hoes and they were working the soil over - almost like they were preparing a medium sized garden. Later, when I was in the hall-house, I asked Niall why men would be preparing a garden. "A garden my Lord? What do you mean?" "There were a group of men digging a small patch of land just down from the main trail to Dunadd. Why were they doing that?" I asked him. "But my Lord, that is the field being prepared for this year's wheat planting." I was stunned to say the least. "Niall, you're not telling me that that little patch of land represents all the wheat Aird Driseig is going to plant? It's but a garden, nowhere near a field!" "My Lord, that is all that we can manage to cultivate and harvest. We couldn't possibly dig any more in the time we have to prepare the land and plant the seed." Doh! It suddenly hit me that my settlement hadn't yet got round to something called a plough! The possibilities here seemed huge. Even a wooden plough could be made but the smith could in all likelihood cast a metal one. A horse drawn plough would significantly increase the amount of land that could be prepared. It shouldn't even be too difficult to design other tools such as something that could likewise be pulled by horses to break up the soil or even a seed drill and a mechanical scythe. These would all raise the grain production massively. I rushed to the forge and engaged the smith in another discussion about the design of agricultural tools. The dawning of realisation on his face as he realised what I was describing and what they could mean in terms of food production was priceless. Now he didn't know which project to take forward first. At least he didn't have the potter demanding the use of the forge to make glass for me. It was now April and spring was going at full tilt. I had probably been most assiduous in monitoring the greenhouse, excited by all the green shoots that were appearing in my seed trays and impatient to find out what kind of plants they were going to grow into. I was pleased to see that a good two thirds of my vines were showing buds too - I thought that wasn't a bad ratio. Another idea had occurred to me that was connected to the development of a wagon. If I could construct some basic sets of wooden tracks I could produce maybe half a dozen and have a mobile 'railway'. As the wagon passed over a section, men could lift it and move it in front of the wagon to create a 'perpetual, virtual' track that would make transporting things much easier. I decided I had to slow down a little as the lordship was struggling to cope with everything I was throwing at it. There were key skilled workers that were becoming overburdened and some assets, like the forge, that were now running at full capacity. Although I could build additional assets, I knew we were short on raw materials and would need to secure more trade to build these up. The smith had produced a plough, a composite soil breaker and a seed drill and I had ensured these had been put into use immediately. The people of the camp had all turned out to see two horses, complete with horse collars, pulling the plough and were both astonished and excited at how easily it cut through the soil of, what to them, was a huge field. When the soil was allowed to dry out somewhat and then the soil breaker was used to break it down and then the seed drill was employed to plant wheat they were agog and talked of nothing else for days. In the space of two weeks I had increased the wheat planting by over two thousand percent. The impact of this was potentially massive. The smith had pulled back a little on his pipe production as he focussed on the agricultural machines but now he was eager to get back into that. The potter was vying for time at the forge to make more bricks and quicklime so that my next building project could get underway - a church. I was delighted that I was able to identify some of the plants that were thriving in the greenhouse. As a boy my parents had encouraged me to cultivate a small area of our garden at home and I had grown vegetables. The simple pleasure at being productive, of being able to grow and then eat produce from my garden had stayed with me. So, I was able to recognise the leaves of carrot and some kind of brassica when I saw them. Onions were also easily identified and the potential seemed fantastic in terms of broadening the diet of my people. Kirsty's imminent childbirth was increasingly on my mind and as a first time father I'm sure I was more nervous than Kirsty or the others. In fact Kirsty got quite short with me, telling me to calm down or to stay away from her as I was upsetting her. I was called by the builders to go and see their first attempt at a wagon and was heading in their direction when I saw Fiona running down the hill towards me. "Scott! Scott!" She cried. I was immediately worried that something was wrong with Kirsty and started towards her. "It has started Scott, you must come, quickly!" "Fuck, shit!" I thought to myself. "Kirsty has started, the baby is coming!" I'm afraid I became a babbling wreck, allowing Fiona to steer me up the hill to the house. I was in a daze and wasn't capable of speech. Kirsty was lying on our bed, being attended to by Eilean and the camp 'midwife'. She was obviously in pain and I watched as she cycled through periods of relative calm and outright agony. My guess was that this must be down to contractions, but I didn't know enough. I moved to her side and took her hand in mine, at last finding my tongue and whispering endearments to her. The loudness of her screams and the force with which she squeezed my hand let me know just how much pain she was suffering. Fiona and Ian were peering round the curtain. Gabrain, perhaps wisely, was not, but instead satisfied himself by being close by. I had noticed that the women had plenty of boiling water available and clean linen on hand. It seemed funny to me - the cliched towels and boiling water. The labour seemed to be mercifully short, only an hour after I had arrived I heard Eilean say she could see the baby's head. I looked down between Kirsty's thighs, now spread as wide as she could get them, and sure enough I could see the emergence of the baby's crown. I don't know what led me but I smiled at Kirsty's grimacing face and dropped her hand to move between her legs, preparing to help my child into the world. I'm sure there are lots of father's out there reading this who have had the same experience - perhaps not in the ninth century! The feeling of watching your child emerge from the womb, of holding your hands out to support its emergence, of wanting to pull and help him/her out, is one that defies description. I was floating, crying, trying to stop my heart from bursting out of my chest. And then, with a rush, the baby was fully out and Kirsty's screams abruptly stopped. I stood with the infant in my hands while Eilean and the 'midwife' busied themselves dealing with the umbilical cord (and the placenta for all I was aware). I was handed some linen and I wrapped the baby in it, using a flap to wipe the blood, mucus and fluids from its face. I had noticed the baby was a girl. And then she cried. Her first cry. And my heart went pitter-patter as I looked at Eilean and the 'midwife', relieved to see they were smiling, indicating that things were okay. I gazed down at my daughter, seeing her through tearful eyes and was in love with her already. Kirsty moaned and I heard her ask what sex the baby was. "You have a daughter Kirsty." Fiona told her. I moved round the bed as I slowly realised that I was keeping the new mother from her child. I held the baby out to Kirsty and she took her from me, bringing her naturally to her breast and tugging the linen back so she could look at her. "I'm so sorry Scott." She said. "I prayed I would provide you with a son." I suppose I should have been inured to this sexist outlook by now but the impact of the baby on me was such that I was stunned. "Kirsty! Never say that! She is almost as gorgeous as her mother. I can feel her breaking my heart already. You have produced an angel and I am well satisfied, wouldn't have it any other way. My love, she is perfect!" Kirsty beamed me a huge smile, clearly relieved at my reaction to my daughter. I was ushered out by Eilean and the 'midwife', presumably so they could help clean up mother and baby. Ian was overcome with emotion and we hugged tightly. Two fathers sharing the emotion of the moment. Gabrain and Fiona were hovering round too and I realised that I was drained. A stray thought pushed itself into my brain - for all my ideas for the lordship, I had completely forgot to have someone make a crib for my baby. I lurched to my feet and staggered to the door, intent on finding my builders and setting this right before Kirsty discovered how poorly I had prepared. I stopped at the door. Virtually the whole camp was gathered at our door, waiting it seemed, expectantly. At the forefront of the crowd was a builder with an intricately designed crib, lined with quilt and linen. I walked slowly forward and took the object from him, overwhelmed by this show of devotion from the camp. For once I was struggling for words. I looked at the faces and gulped. "It seems I am a father." I said, rather obviously. Tears streamed from my eyes unashamedly. "I am the father of a beautiful daughter." Despite the fact that I knew how these people felt about women, I was once more humbled by the strength of the cheer that went up. I nodded inanely and returned to the house. Kirsty took a few days to recover her strength but I was pleased with how quickly she bonded with our daughter. I had suggested we call her closely after her mother as I would find it difficult to decide which was the most beautiful. I offered the name Kristina - Tina for short and Kirsty had been happy to agree. Two nights after the birth, we lay in bed, the baby between us and I offered up a prayer of thanks that everything had gone so well. It was almost exactly a year since I had found myself in this time and I lay pondering all that had happened. One thing that hadn't really been an issue, which should have been, was that I had no urge to try and find a way back to my own time. I was a father. My ideas were not only keeping the lordship busy, they were definitely making a significant difference. The May weather had turned nasty and I turned to look at my partner and angelic daughter as the thunder and lighting crashed and flashed outside he house. What a year it had been! ------- The End ------- Posted: 2007-02-01 Last Modified: 2007-03-01 / 03:49:54 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------