April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 02

by Escape To The Highlands

  “Thank you. Getting some fresh air would do me some good.”

  “Very well then,” he smiled.

  Jacqueline picked at her food. Not feeling very hungry, she only took small bites of the lamb stew that was served. Silently, she listened to the conversations from the men around her, talking about how the trials would proceed and the depth of their crimes. Little did she know the prisoners were the ones responsible for many of the deaths of her friends and acquaintances who went off to war last summer whom were killed on the battlefield at Stirling.

  “We will hold their trials in public,” Lord Wessex announced. “Have them brought into the lower bailey. Allow our people to witness their confessions of murdering their loved ones.”

  “I will make sure it is done at once, My Lord,” Richard promised and stood up from the table to exit the room.

  Lord Wessex turned in his chair towards Jacqueline. Placing his large strong hand onto her bony fingers, he stroked the back side of her hand.

  “My lady, I do not expect these trials to last long. I will seek you out as soon as they are over.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” she responded.

  Jacqueline watched as the men stood up and eagerly went to gather outside as if it was a joyful festivity. Jacqueline could never bear to watch like the others and was glad that both her brother and cousin did not request her presence. In the past, after the trials were finished and the judgment was heard, the prisoners were marched off to the platform of the gallows.

  Her brother’s new position within the king’s army made the people fear him. With his black head covering on, Wayland became a different person when his role came into play. He went from an eager young man who worked hard to bring honor to his family to the king’s executioner. To Jacqueline, his soul was now as black as the darkness.

  Not wanting to witness the travesty occurring in the bailey, Jacqueline went off towards the church on the other side of the keep, the only place she could go to find peace and be alone. The small wooden door creaked as it swung on its rusty hinges, disturbing the pigeons asleep on top of the rafters. The nave of the chapel was empty as the priest was with the rest of the crowd, giving the prisoners their last rites.

  Jacqueline kneeled down in the center of the aisle next to the first row of benches facing the altar. Offering a silent prayer, she went to sit down on the worn-out wooden bench. Keeping her head down, she waited for the hangings to be over and the bailey to be cleared of the mass of spectators.

  It did not take long before she heard the faint muffled echoes of profanities and cries calling out. Jacqueline let out a deep breath as the sound of the beating drum resonated off the stone walls. The beats grew louder and faster as it vibrated throughout her chest. Jacqueline held onto the edge of her seat with so much force she could feel her pulse in the tips of her fingers. Jacqueline lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Then, all went silent as if time stood still. Jacqueline opened her eyes and looked up at the cross hanging on the wall above the altar. A single tear slowly rolled down her pale cheek and dropped onto the floor.

  Chapter 2

  Ewan walked around his room one last time making sure that he packed everything he needed for the long journey ahead. Now with the cold winter months behind him and with his cousin’s blessing, Ewan decided to rejoin William Wallace’s army in the fight for Scotland’s independence.

  Last fall, he followed his cousin Rory to battle the English, but in a twist of fate their plans had changed when one of their allies, the MacCallum clan was attacked. Rory had took the blame upon himself when the daughter of the clan, Annella was taken prisoner. After they had rescued her, they returned to their home at Dunakin Castle and awaited news from Wallace.

  For the past several years, wars broke out all over Scotland due to the threat of the English and the merciless King Edward. Not only did Highland clans fight with the English, but among themselves as well. These were dark days for those of Scotland. The line between friend and foe became blurry when loyalty was at stake.

  Ewan knew a great deal about loyalty. He held the position as second commander of the chief’s army of the clan MacKinnon under the rule of his cousin and laird, Rory MacKinnon. Rory had recently married Lady Annella MacCallum and refused to fight and leave behind a widow. Knowing that Rory’s place was at home, Ewan was venturing off to fight alone. With his satchel hanging over his shoulder, he walked down the stairs into the great hall to say his goodbyes.

  “Ye take care of yerself. I will nay be there to watch yer arse this time,” Rory said with a smirk.

  “If I am no’ mistaken, My Laird, it is I who had to always watch yer back,” Ewan boasted.

  Giving him a slight sarcastic look, Rory asked, “How long do ye think Wallace expects this campaign to take?”

  “I dinna ken. The missive I received provided little information. Wallace is heavily recruiting in secret. Several of our Scotsmen have been taken captive and Wallace wants to sneak into England right under Longshank’s nose to bring our men home. I am to meet him south of Buchannan Abbey. Father Gregory has made preparations fer my arrival.”

  “Ye ken that I would come wit ye if I could.”

  “Aye, I ken. But ye got a bairn on the way and a wife to be looking after. Dinna want Annella to be a widow after ye only just married the lass.”

  “After the bairn is born, we will be traveling to Dundas in the summer months to visit her sister. I will send word. I have a feelin’ this war between Wallace and the English will require more than we can bargain fer. I want Annella and the babe to be as far away from danger if it arises. Ye must get on yer way. Ye have several days’ journey ahead of ye. Just be sure ye return or yer mother will have me quartered.”

  “Aye that she will.”

  “God speed, cousin,” Rory said and gave him a mighty hug.

  “God speed, My Laird.”

  Ewan turned towards the door that led out into the courtyard. He knew that even riding on the back of Aron, the strongest beast of all the clan’s horses, it was going to take him about three to four days of hard riding to reach his destination on time.

  With the snow still melting and the spring weather beginning to warm up, traveling through the Highlands would make his voyage much easier. Ewan tied his satchel to the saddle bags and swung a leg up and over the giant animal. Running at a fast pace through the gates, Ewan set off for his adventure.

  He rode during most of the daylight hours, only to stop for short breaks. During the cold nights he camped out in the woods away from the high road to avoid any potential dangers. Ewan knew all too well about the highwaymen lurking in the woods ready to slice you down and steal your goods.

  Ewan’s mind had stayed heavy on his mission. He had not seen Wallace since before the battle at Stirling several months ago. He was uncertain if any of their plans had changed for better or worse. Ewan knew that crossing into England was going to be tricky. The borders were heavily guarded. Anxiously, he rode onward, ready to serve Scotland once more.

  After hours of uneventful riding, Ewan started to feel the numbness in his legs. He felt relieved to have reached the abbey earlier than anticipated. The monks in the courtyard silently attended the gardens, clipping away the hedges where the snow had melted. The abbey was just the same as he last seen it. The stones were starting to crumble from age and vines had begun to grow along the walls.

  Spotting an old familiar man, Ewan nodded his head in greeting and smiled back at him. Jumping down off the saddle, he led his horse towards the old man who was waiting along the short brick wall that enclosed the abbey grounds.

  “Good day, Father Gregory. It is good to see ye again,” Ewan said as he extended his hand in greeting.

  “Ah how time swiftly goes by, aye? How is yer laird and his new bride?”

  “They are well. Rory can nay keep his hands off his wife. They are expecting a bairn.”

  “That is good news to hear,” Father Gregory said smiling.


  “Thank ye again. I shall only stay a night, for tomorrow I must leave. I am on an important mission and the sooner I get on my way, the better.”

  “Aye, of course. I will have a hot meal sent to yer room. We have a prayer service in the morning if ye would like to attend. Also, I have a missive for ye. It was sent several nights ago,” Father Gregory said as he pulled out a piece of folded parchment out of the inner pocket of his robes. “The messenger said to give his to ye and nay anyone else.”

  “Thank ye, Father,” Ewan said taking the letter from the old man’s wrinkled hands and began to walk with him down the tapered passageway that led to the chambers below.

  The room was quaint containing nothing more than a short pallet to sleep upon and a small table where a food tray had been placed. After riding for days and sleeping out in the woods on the cold hard ground, Ewan was not one to complain about the meager accommodations. He even would have been satisfied with a pallet of dry hay out in the stables than one more night out in the cold. Ewan sat down on the pallet and untied the laces of his boots before stretching out his tired limbs.

  The stew he was served was bland but full of vegetables and very filling. He was grateful for their hospitality and had grown weary from eating dried oatcakes and apples. After finishing off his ration, he sat up in the bed reading the missive. It was from Wallace giving him the location of their camp along River Tay. Ewan folded the letter and put it in his bag and began to sharpen his broadsword before settling in and falling asleep.

  After what seemed like only a few short hours, Ewan awoke to the sound of the monks humming an unfamiliar tune in the chapel. It was just as bad as when his young friend, Angus used to stamper around the camp with his large, heavy feet. Thinking about Angus now only consoled Ewan. Angus had been killed during a raid of bandits last fall while trying to protect the laird’s bride, Annella.

  He was a good lad and even though he was only a squire, he was a good warrior and friend. The reality of his unexpected demise only made Ewan’s motivation stronger. He knew that every battle might be his last, but he accepted his fate. Ewan lived for honor and dying in battle, fighting for what you believe in was the most honorable way to leave this mortal world. He would never back down nor shame his family’s name.

  Packing his belongings, Ewan walked down into the chapel to join the monks in prayer.

  “I am glad that ye joined us this morning fer service, Ewan. To be honest I dinna expect ye to come,” Father Gregory said.

  “Aye. It has been a while, Father. I fear my faith has been displaced as of late.”

  “God kens yer heart, Ewan; that is all that matters. He is there to listen, as am I.”

  “I must be off, Father. Thank ye again.”

  “God be wit ye and watch over ye, lad.”

  “Bless ye, Father.”

  Ewan opened the door to the courtyard. Blinded by the light of the sun, he squinted his eyes until they could adjust to the brightness. He walked towards his horse and unraveled the reins that were tied to the stall. Ewan climbed onto the back of his great black horse, and rode south towards the River Tay as directed in the letter.

  It was the early hours of the morning when Ewan reached the top of the hillside to the north of the loch. Slowing his horse, Aron twitched his ears from an approaching sound.

  “Ye there. Move one step forward and I will run ye through,” a short and stocky red-headed man with an Irish accent called out from behind a tree.

  “Mighty big words ye have there for a wee size of a mon,” Ewan said unafraid to provoke the man. “My name is Ewan MacKinnon. I am here to speak wit William Wallace.”

  “William Wallace, ye say. And what makes ye think I would let ye do a thing like that?” The man asked, swinging his sword back and forth in a taunting fashion.

  Not amused by this portly man, Ewan took a breath and continued, “Because I have me here a missive from Wallace to join the raid,” he said as he pulled the note out of his satchel and waved it in the air.

  “Ah, well then, me name is Randulf, they call me Duff,” he said as he returned his sword to the scabbard tied to his hip. “Can nay be too careful out here wit who be our enemy or no’. But if what ye say is true then follow me. I will show ye the way. And if ye be lying either way, Wallace will see ye gutted,” Duff chuckled.

  Unsure if he was willing to trust the man so easily, Ewan put the letter back into his bag and kept his other hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “MacKinnon, I am glad ye accepted my invitation, my friend. I am sorry we missed ye at Stirling, but yer men gave me the full account of what happened to yer laird’s wife and father last fall. I hope ye got the bastard that did it,” William Wallace said as he crept from behind the trees.

  Ewan got down from his horse and shook Wallace’s hand. “Aye we did. My cousin, Laird MacKinnon wanted me to give ye his condolences for no’ being unable to come. His wife Lady Annella is heavy wit child and he dinna want to leave her side,” Ewan said as he looked back at Duff who gave him an unfriendly glare.

  “Well as long as I have one MacKinnon, I can nay complain. We are lucky to have ye. Since my letter, there have been many new developments. Come, let’s sit. We can go over our plans over some whiskey, eh?”

  Brushing past the shrubs and bushes, Ewan became mindful of the increasing sound of flowing water. Up ahead, he saw a small waterfall cascading down the hillside that emptied into the loch below. In the clearing, fifty men or so were in the midst of training. Setting up camp along the waterfall was quite clever, Ewan thought, as the noise would draw out the sounds of the men from those who may be traveling through these woods. The tree-covered mountain that surrounded them also provided enough protection to conceal their camp and numbers.

  Ewan sat with Wallace around the fire along with several others and listened to the plan to rescue the imprisoned Scots. Ewan learned that many of them have been taken to Carlisle Castle as well as three other English holdings.

  “The English are cunning to harbor the prisoners in different locations. Confining them all in one location would have surely warranted an attack,” Wallace said.

  “I will take the road to Carlisle wit a few of the men,” Ewan proposed.

  “Carlisle is heavily defended. It will no’ be easy to get in.”

  “That will no’ be a problem, which is why ye recruited me,” Ewan said with confidence.

  “Aye. If anyone can sneak into Carlisle right under that bastard Richard’s nose, it be a MacKinnon. Yer uncle was famed for his battle skills. I can only imagine that ye possess those skills as well.”

  Ewan felt warm with pride. MacKinnons have fought in every battle leaving a heavy impression throughout the Highlands. They were known across the lands as fierce and cunning warriors. Following his death, Ewan’s father, Douglas was famed as the Dark Ghost of Scotland. In life, his use of trickery and skill with a weapon allowed him to sweep past his enemies unnoticed, while killing men in the shadows. Even now, fearful men claim to see his ghost, haunting them in the dungeons and within the deserted woods.

  Ewan excused himself to join the group of men who were to accompany him to Carlisle. He wanted to leave and be on his way as quickly as possible. Duff introduced Ewan to a man named Oliver MacBain who was one of the men to join him. Duff, even though a stocky man who looked as if he could barely hold a broadsword, said that he was familiar with the road to Carlisle and could offer the best route to take.

  Oliver, on the other hand, was a towering brute. Duff explained that Oliver came from the clan MacBain, who resides on the southern tip of the Highland border. The MacBains have been long time followers of William Wallace and had much political influence. They were known to be excellent warriors who had descended from an Irish clan several generations ago.

  Once the greetings were over, Ewan gathered what supplies they needed and tightened the leather straps on his horse’s saddle before mounting his horse. The small group of them headed south into the night, towards the En
glish border.

  Chapter 3

  Grateful for the Lord’s ear for listening to her prayers, Jacqueline felt more at peace that even the beat of her heart masked the faint sound of footsteps walking behind her. Jacqueline looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Lord Wessex looming above her.

  “Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to disturb you while you are in prayer,” Lord Wessex said, sounding very honorable thought Jacqueline.

  “I was not praying, My Lord.”

  “May I sit?” he asked.

  Jacqueline nervously scooted over, allowing Lord Wessex to sit next to her. She could feel the goose bumps form on her skin as he sat almost a breath away from her. Keeping her head bowed she dared not to look at him until he spoke.

  “I am not a man of many words. I know that an arranged marriage may not be what you desire and I do not expect this marriage to be one out of love; however I do hope that over time you will give me a chance to prove my loyalty and for me to earn yours as well.”

  “That is very gracious of you to say, My Lord,” Jacqueline said as she looked into the man’s large grey eyes.

  The color reminded her of the sky just before a storm. In this light, Jacqueline could see the lightly peppered grey within the thick mass of his black hair, indicating the signs of aging. But even with the two-day old scruff on his face, Jacqueline denoted that he was aging well. He had no wrinkles around his eyes or forehead and his skin was youthful looking and had a bit of a shine. Up close, he didn’t appear as unfriendly as she first thought.

  “I had hoped that this evening we could take this time to get to know one another before tomorrow.”

  “There is little to say about me, My Lord. I spend most of my days stitching and sewing new gowns and tapestries. I fear I would only bore you.”

  “Please. Tomorrow I am to be your husband. I would like for you to call me by my given name, Charles when we are alone. And I doubt there is little about you. From what your cousin and brother told me, you are quite gifted. They mentioned that you excel in horseback riding and of your teachings of the church.”