Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

“Dougal,” Leonis said stepping forward. “Remember that the most important thing beyond survival is the ability to birth children and create a long-lasting road of strength for this clan in the future .”

  “I will do my best,” he said, understanding what they were saying but still wondering where he was going to immediately find a bride to appease their wishes. At the moment, however, he had more pressing issues, such as the troops who were rapidly approaching .

  Dougal left the elders and headed toward Ivor, who he could see standing taller than all the others. As Dougal approached, Ivor looked at him with a devilish grin before turning to stare out toward the mountains. While the MacGavins were slightly outnumbered in men, they knew how to protect themselves and they knew that for every four ignorant warriors was one godly MacGavin .

  They watched as the Buchanans marched forward, flying their crests high in the sky. Alastair Buchanan led the charge and they walked to the center of the waving grasses, pausing as their leader walked forward. Dougal took in a deep breath, knowing he was the one that would be meeting him .

  “Ready the clan,” he commanded Ivor, picking up his shield and walking out to meet Alastair .

  The air was stagnant and everything was silent as he walked through the grasses towards the Buchanan Laird. Alastair smiled malevolently as Dougal approached, putting his shield down and sheathing his sword. Dougal knew there was no possible chance he was backing down from this fight but it was customary to attempt to resolve their grievances before setting their clans into battle .

  The lairds took the deaths of their clansmen seriously, but when facing someone who held coin as their faith of choice, one knew that life held a little less value to him. Alastair was the man who took Dougal’s father’s life so many years ago, and though his face was a bit more weathered, the strategist could still be seen shimmering in his eye .

  “Ah, young Dougal,” Alastair said as he stepped forward. “I hear they have not quite made you laird just yet .”

  “Do you not think we are beyond battling over sheep, Laird?” he asked, ignoring his taunt .

  “You know very well this ain’t over any sheep,” he replied, a serious look taking over .

  “You canna have our lands,” Dougal said proudly .

  “Then I suppose there is nothing to talk about, is there ?”

  “I suppose not,” he replied, watching as Alastair picked his shield back up and smiled .

  “I shall make sure to take it easy on you,” he laughed. “Not like I did on your old daddy .”

  “By the end of this, I shall have your head on a spike,” Dougal growled .

  He turned and walked back toward Ivor, his hand grasping the butt of his sword. He could see the excitement in Ivor’s eyes as he glared out at the warring clan. Dougal stepped in front of the men, looking at each one of their faces. Some were older, from a generation when warring clans were few and far between, while others were young, fresh, and scared. It was up to him to ensure they were all ready for what was to come .

  “Men,” Dougal said loudly. “We no longer bicker over petty things. We no longer fight for sheep or plow. Today, we fight for our lands, our homes, and our freedom! Hoist your swords and know that if you perish on this lofty soil, you will be remembered as a proud MacGavin warrior !”

  They shouted and chanted as Dougal gathered his nerves and glanced over at the elders standing to the side. Leonis nodded at him approvingly as Dougal turned toward the field and lifted his sword high in the air. He took a deep breath and shouted the MacGavin battle cry .

  “Luach agus bua !”

  Valor and Victory .

  The clan repeated their battle cry in a shout and took off across the field, clashing violently in the center with the Buchanans. Dougal was at the head of the brigade, slicing through warriors with his sword while watching his clansman closely. It was his responsibility to keep these men safe, and he would go to any extent to do so, even if that meant being the first into the melee .

  The MacGavins battled hard and strong, pushing their swords through the Buchanan clan, and stepping over their bodies as they made headway through the droves of men behind them. Dougal looked up at the top of the hill and could see Alastair standing at the top, his shield down and his eyes watching every movement. It was a slap in the face to not have the laird facing him in battle, and slowly anger began to simmer in his blood at the man’s cowardice .

  How dare he think he was so much better than them, that he could stand at the back and watch his men fight his battles for him. Dougal had seen this clan ravage farm houses and villages to the east and he could not allow them to do that to MacGavin territory. His sister’s face flashed through his mind as he roared loudly, clashing swords with the others .

  The Buchanans seemed to have been working on their training and Dougal noticed how hard his own men had to battle. He looked over at Ivor as he watched one of his men go down, rage rippling through his chest. Ivor pulled a sword from a dead warrior and drove through the crowd yielding not one, but two blades. He was a beast of a fighter and he took no pity on the men in the field around him. He almost thrived on the blood spraying from their wounds as he crushed the warring clan with his might and anger .

  Dougal lifted his shield, blocking a blow, watching as one of his men came up behind Buchanan warriors and slit their throats. Dougal reached up and wiped the blood from his face, nodding at his clansman and moving forward. He wanted Alastair. He wanted to see him writhe in pain as he thrust his sword into his belly, knowing he was feeling the same pain he inflicted on his father so long ago. Dougal needed to feel the revenge take over and as Alastair scanned the crowd, his eyes settled on him, a flash of fear crossing his face .

  Dougal stepped forward, his focus on Alastair, ready to make his move toward the hill, when a searing pain blew through his shoulder. He had been so focused on Alastair he had taken his attention off his immediate surroundings. He had been stabbed by a Buchanan and he watched as his shield fell from his injured arm, and his body, seemingly detached, slammed against the dusty ground of Stonehaven .

  5

  Emilia

  W hen Emilia woke the next morning, she was still tired, but not as exhausted as she was when she first arrived. The jet lag seemed to be diminishing rapidly, which she was pleased about as she was determined to follow Fiona’s advice and visit Dunnottar Castle and the MacGavin/Buchanan battlefields first thing that morning. She had finally been able to shake that odd feeling from Fiona last night as she relaxed under the night sky, but when she woke this morning and stared out at the gray, she couldn’t help but feel that same lump return to her chest .

  She didn’t know what it was, but there was something strange in the air. Emilia ignored it and got dressed, throwing her rain jacket in her backpack just in case. She ate a quick breakfast before the cab arrived, and quickly jogged out to the car. It only took about ten minutes to get to the site from her cottage, and Emilia asked the cab driver to come back in a couple of hours to pick her up since the cell signal was really weak so close to the ocean .

  Emilia stood looking up at the ruins of the old castle, in awe of the history laid out before her. Where others may have seen a tumble of stones, she saw so much more. She saw people who had lived and breathed, fought and loved. She turned and looked at the fields beyond, peppered with small houses now. It was here, at about this time of day, that the MacGavins clashed with the Buchanan clan. They had been fighting over territories and lands and while the Buchanans were a wealthy clan, the MacGavins were a clan of stealth and valor .

  She knew the leader of the clan wasn’t yet Laird as the MacGavins had seen their original Laird slain decades before, leaving the clan to be run by the uncle. This was the battle that brought all together and had great significance on the future of both clans. The young Dougal MacGavin was trying to prove himself, or at least that was the story passed down through the years. He was ready to be Laird but this battle was what was going to prove it to the el
der members, who were in control until he was ready. As Emilia walked through the now manicured grasses, she couldn’t help but wonder if power had anything to do with it taking so long for Dougal to become the laird .

  Everything in the history books pointed to an oppressive clan leadership, but from the path forward after that, it seemed that the elders had stepped down rather quickly. The biggest confusion to Emilia was what brought them to that decision. The history books were rather vague and Fiona hadn’t shed any light on the subject. Emilia knew Dougal had been gravely injured in battle, but had made it back to his castle to lead his clan. After the battle here in the 1500s, however, information on the MacGavin clan and the history behind it just kind of faded away .

  The MacGavin name was still around in today’s current Scotland, but no one seemed to be able to tell Emilia what happened after this fateful day. It was stories like these that really intrigued her, and were the reason she had majored in history — to try to uncover the unknown. The enigmas of history made her curiosity run wild, which was something that Bryan hated. He thought it was absurd to be so curious about a past historical event. He figured since the writings stopped not long after the battle, so did their legacy, but Emilia just couldn’t bring herself to believe that. There had to be more to the story. If only she could find Fiona again, perhaps she could tell her more .

  Emilia felt that humans have an obsession with leaving a legacy, but in today’s world, that legacy is usually captured by photos on social media, or videos stored on iPhones. The written historical record no longer seems as important. But in Scotland, in this time period, this battle was one of the most important parts of their clans’ existence. Emilia had a hard time believing Dougal would have won the battle but then just faded into history as if he himself had become a ghost, taking his whole clan into the darkness. Emilia had studied this battle in an extensive nature when she was writing her thesis, but every historian she spoke to knew of no further details that what had happened on this battlefield .

  Emilia walked forward through the grasses, retracing the steps she knew would have been taken that day. First, the two leaders would have met in the middle, exchanging words. These exchanges were traditional, but didn’t seem to serve much of a purpose as they never resulted in any positive outcomes. Most likely Alastair, Laird of the Buchanan Clan, rebuffed Dougal MacGavin, seeing as he was not Laird and Alastair had been recorded as a flagrant man, with much pride .

  Then, Dougal would have turned and walked back to his troops, giving them a motivational speech. The MacGavin’s battle cry, throughout their recorded history, was always “Valor and Victory,” a dramatic appeal to those fighting for their freedoms. It was said that the Buchanans wished to take the MacGavins’ land. If they couldn’t win it outright they would leave it like they did so many others, burned to the ground and useless. They wanted an empire within the Queen’s rule .

  From there they would have charged the warring clan, meeting in the center of the field and beginning their battle. Emilia turned and ran as the warriors would have, looking down at the grass beneath her feet. Many men would have fallen, their blood spilled on this exact ground, with most being from the Buchanan Clan. It was told that Dougal had looked up at Alastair, noticing he was not fighting and took a grave grievance to that dishonor .

  Emilia turned and climbed to where Alastair would have been standing, his closest men at his side. He would have stood atop the hill and watched as his men were slaughtered. He had given them the best armor, the strongest shields, and the finest swords, but the one thing he did not give them was a purpose for which they would use those tools and sacrifice their lives .

  A man with a cause can be the most dangerous in the world, especially when that cause was freedom. Emilia looked up at the mountains in the distance, imagining what it was like for Buchanan’s Clan to march through the cold and fog only to be immediately met by the ferocious MacGavins. They were probably tired, hungry, and without a very good spectrum of leadership, while the MacGavins had camped, ate, and joined together as a team before facing their foe, fighting for their land, their families, and their lives .

  Emilia took a deep breath and shrugged on her raincoat, pulling the hood up over her head. It was a dark drizzling day, but it wasn’t too unpleasant, especially with the amount of history under her feet. She turned back to face the castle remains and the empty battlefield .

  As she stepped forward she froze in shock as a flash of light streaked through the air, leaving behind the torso and head of a man floating in midair yards ahead of her. She looked around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity but saw nothing for miles. Her heart began beating wildly as Emilia slowly walked forward toward the apparition and stopped when she realized the man was injured .

  She circled around the floating body, figuring that was it, she had finally lost it. She had become so immersed in the scene in her head, her mind had taken her there. There was no way this could be real. The man’s eyes were closed and his face was stained with blood. His long dark hair was streaked with mud, his cheeks peppered with a scruffy beard .

  Emilia reached her hand forward to his face, trying to figure out what she was looking at. As her hand touched his skin, she felt the warmth radiating from his body. She tilted her head but as she stepped closer to the man, there was a bright flash of light and the ground shook under her feet. She pulled her hands to her ears as she leaned forward in a crouch, blocking the strange high-pitched sound coming from around her. Then as soon as it had begun, it was over. She remained bent over with her shoulders clenched and her eyes closed, unsure of what was going on, her body shaking with shock .

  As her hearing came back into range, she was startled by sounds of the clashing of metal and the screaming of men. She opened her eyes and gasped in astonishment as she looked around her. She was no longer at a deserted historical monument, but instead, she was standing on a battlefield while a war raged around her. Her mouth gaped open in horror as she turned round and around, watching men fight other men, their faces covered with blood, dirt, and rage. At her feet lay the man that she saw in the field, only his entire body was now present. He was dressed as the others were in traditional Scottish clothing, and Emilia just stared at him as she tried to process what was happening to and around her .

  She finally turned toward the remains of Dunnottar Castle and could only stare in astonishment. Instead of the dusty rubble that she had seen upon her arrival, standing in front of her was a full castle, flames of torches lit at its walkways. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, not understanding what was happening to her as men groaned and fought around her. She had no idea what was going on but as she looked at the fallen man’s crest, she recognized the symbol of the MacGavin clan .

  “No,” she whispered to herself. “That can’t be .”

  Quickly she turned to face the mountains and stared up at a tall man surrounded by his closest advisors. Next to him were large thick flagpoles seeded into the ground. The crest on the flags were that of the Buchanan Clan. How was any of this possible? Emilia turned in circles watching as the same battle she just imagined, now being played out right in front of her eyes. Only this was no stage .

  She took a step forward and tripped over a body on the ground. She fell forward into the dirt and picked her hands up, holding them out in front of her face. They were covered in blood and immediately she began to panic, her breath coming in short gasps. She looked up around her as these men, these warriors who seemed so real, enacted the famous battle of the MacGavins and the Buchanans. But it couldn’t be a reenactment. She would have seen them coming. Had she passed out in the time of the noise and the flash of light? But she had seen the man before that, and there was no one present for miles around her when the man’s body appeared floating in the air .

  Suddenly she realized something and she shook her head, thinking she must be crazy. She turned her head and looked up, watching the man at the top of the hill. If that was Alastai
r, and these men are the warring clans, then the man on the ground had to be Dougal MacGavin. She was sitting in the bloody grass watching the last moments of the battle, which had been blurred by history .

  She inwardly cringed — what was she thinking? There was no way this was real. There must have been some explanation. Had she been struck by lightning? Was that the noise and the light that had appeared? Was this some sort of dream, or a twisted heaven for her? But how did everything seem so real? She could smell the blood and sweat of the men around her. She could feel the cold dewy ground underneath of her. She could even taste the salt in the air from the ocean. She pulled her knees to her chest as tears of panic and frustration began to fill her eyes .

  She was so confused and scared, and had no idea what to do. She didn’t even know how to extract herself to the sidelines of this battlefield without becoming caught up in the melee. So, instead of making a move, she curled up in a ball next to Dougal and watched the battle ensue, wincing every time there was bloodshed. Her head was spinning in circles and she couldn’t seem to get a hold of it for even five seconds. She either needed some major medication or she had somehow been transported back to the 16th century. Either way, she needed to figure out how to get back, and quickly, otherwise she would become a very short part of history .

  “What the hell is this? Now the MacGavins bring women to their fights?” A loud voice above her shouted. “And what the hell is it that she is wearin ’?”

  Emilia turned toward the large bearded man and shook her head, wanting to say something but being too afraid to open her mouth, and completely unsure what she would even say. The man laughed to himself and took a menacing step toward her. Emilia scrambled back toward Dougal, realizing this was it. She saw no way out .

  How ironic, that she was to die on this battlefield. She had romanticized it in her mind, but now that she was here, she realized this battle was nothing more than death. The clansman’s eyes grew dark and he lifted his sword high over his head. Emilia pulled her arms up to her face and screamed out as the sword came plummeting down toward her .