by Amy Isan
“I didnae say nothing... improper!”
“I bet you did,” Alec said as he lifted his mug and finished it. He put the stein back down and leaned closer over the table to catch Neil’s eyes. “What was it, come out with it.”
“I squeezed her arse and said her buttocks were the finest I’d ever seen, and she should be honored to hear such a compliment.’”
Gavin and Alec roared with laughter, nearly topping over the mugs on the table as they bucked and rocked in their seats. Gavin slapped his knee hard, his eyes misty with tears as he grabbed the back of the boy’s neck and leaned in close. His voice was softer than he intended, but his words still rang true. “That is no way to treat a lady, especially in a clan we watch over. They donae come into the castle to get harassed and mocked, boy, and they ain’t your plaything.”
“Says you!” Neil shot back, shrugging off Gavin’s tight grip from the back of his neck. “You have your way with the ladies all the time!”
“Aye, that I do, but not like that.”
“What’s different?”
Alec interjected. “He donae smack random ladies arses in the markets, you have to know your place boy. I’d say you earned your red mark, and you should wear it with pride. Take it with humility.”
“Aye,” Gavin nodded to Alec with a knowing glint in his eye. “The man’s right. You oughta listen your older brother, he knows a lot more than either of us do about wooing the ladies.”
“There’s a thin line you tread,” Alec continued. “The difference between a vagrant and a gentleman is...” he paused to milk the moment. The men leaned close to try and hear the secret. “How you handle their reaction after you grab their arse.” He took a swig of his beer, letting it wash over them.
The boys laughed, their infectious joy catching Gavin by surprise. He laughed again, his voice growing hoarse as he wheezed. He clutched his stomach to try and calm himself down, too overcome with trembling laughter to stop.
“Alright, now out with it, who was this lass you offended so dearly? Not that it sounds like she needs any protection...”
“I didnae catch her name—,” Neil said. As he grew lost in thought, another man burst into the hall. His appearance made the youngsters jump, to the amusement of Alec and Gavin, who turned to greet the visitor.
“‘Bout time you showed up, Barron,” Alec said. “Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”
Barron bounded up to the table and threw his leg over one of the seats. “I never make it to anythin’ on time, brother, you know that.” Alec mused and touched the lip of his mug, he narrowed his eyes at Gavin. “I wonder if it was the red-haired lass you were talking about earlier.”
Barron nodded in agreement, as if he had heard the whole thing. “Red-haired lass? Not many of those in the clans anymore. I heard they’re dying off.”
“Fuck off with that,” Alec said. “You just wish you were the only one.”
“Aye,” Barron laughed. “Perhaps I do. Gavin’s got his eye on someone?”
Gavin looked up into the rafters thoughtfully, “Aye. Perhaps it was the same lass in town. I guess we won’t ever know.”
Barron laughed loud and slapped Gavin on the back, nearly pushing his face into the table. “I know all the red-haired lasses around these parts, I bet I can guess which one you’re speakin’ of.”
Gavin raised his eyebrow, reseating himself. “That would be a miracle.”
Barron scrubbed his beard and thought for a moment, staring up into the vaulted rafters. He eyed Alec and turned to Gavin. “The only clans that have red-haired lasses are the Douglas Clan, the Domnall Clan and the Cathal Clan.”
“Well, that narrows it down. I’m glad you could help,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes and taking another swig of his ale.
Barron shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “But The Domnall and the Cathal Clan’s daughters are married into the Maxwell Clan.”
“That means...”
“It could only be the Douglas’ lass.”
Gavin felt his heart soar with the news. Now he had a name, a way to reach her, maybe talk to her. But his cheery mood flagged when he thought of the implications. “I can’t do anything anyway. I, too, have to marry into the Maxwells.”
“Fuck tha’ you donae,” Barron said. “I never was one to understand that old cow.”
Rory smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’ll just have to try to grab her arse a different way tomorrow, get to say her name this time too. That'll really take her by surprise.” He took another swig of his beer.
Gavin laughed again and smacked both the boys on their backs like they were gentle dogs. “Let’s get another round. I need to forget this awful day already.” He pushed up from the table and wandered over to retrieve more beer, his mind focusing sharply on the image of the red-haired lass that he saw earlier, the name Douglas suspended in his mind. The one that might have given Neil Macrae, one of the most arrogant young boys in the castle, a rightful slap to the face. His heart pounded at the idea of a woman so fierce and strong. He’d never met one like her.
He sat back down at the table with freshly filled steins and made idle chat, arguing about the horse races that would finish off the summer, telling tales of conquered women, but his mind never left that lingering thought of the red-haired woman. Clan Douglas. What was her first name though?
***
Gavin stumbled into his chambers as the alcohol coursed through him. The spinning world slowed a bit as his head crashed into the pillow, his hands grasping the edge of the bed to try and keep himself from throwing up.
Sleep rushed to meet him quickly, black, empty, and dreamless like it had been for the last couple of weeks. Ever since the question of marrying Katrine Maxwell came up.
Gavin was thrown out of his slumber with a jolt and a loud crash. It wasn’t unusual for loud noises to wake him in the middle of the night, but this time something was off. He tried to shake off his lingering inebriation as he stared hard into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to focus. He listened intently for more sound.
Another loud crash and a muffled yell alerted him to something greater. He threw his sheets off and leaped out of his bed, grabbing the sword he kept on a nearby mantle. The lingering coals in the fire left a touch of glow on his face as he moved toward the bedroom door, cautiously and quietly as he could.
He threw his bedroom door open to find a man robed in black slicing the throat of a servant, his startled gaze quickly turning to Gavin. Gavin yelled out for the guards as he braced himself for the man’s attack, but none came as the murderer dropped the limp body of the servant and dashed down the hall, his speed flicking wind against the braziers that lined either side of him.
Gavin’s hackles were raised as he realized where the man was going. His father’s chambers lay in that direction of the castle. Without waiting for more guards to show up, he sprinted down the hall after him, his sword arm ready and his blade quivering with thirst.
Several guards lay dead outside his father’s chambers, the door slightly ajar with a guard’s arm between the jamb and the wall. He pushed through the opening and saw the black-robed man jump off the balcony, the harsh breeze of the highlands fluttering the bedsheets and curtains inside the room.
On the bed was Gavin’s nightmare. His father, Laird Angus MacKenzie, dead. His throat sliced from end to end, blood spilt all over the bedding and carpet like a burst bottle of wine.
Gavin flew toward the balcony, nearly toppling over the edge as he desperately swung at the man, but he was already gone. Below, in the castle’s market and courtyard, hundreds of other men were mobbing the villagers, attacking clansmen like they were sheep in the slaughter.
Gavin couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt betrayed, disgusted. He turned away from the carnage, his hands trembling and mouth desperately dry.
Gavin fell to his knees, his temper and emotions set aflame. He scooped his father’s body in his arms and tried to fight back his tears.
&nbs
p; As he rocked back and forth with his father’s body in his hands, Alec came to the door, alert and ready. When he saw Gavin, he lowered his arm and rushed to his side, collapsing next to him and the dead Laird.
“What happened?” Alec yelled, confusion filling his eyes.
Gavin didn’t look at him. “Some god forsaken assassin! I saw him in the hall killing a servant. Fucker barely beat me here, and I found him like this.”
A loud crash exploded outside the balcony as a fire blazed through the town, consuming everything in sight. The screams of the villagers echoed through the castle ramparts, agonies and pleas of mercy indistinct as the sound of steel against flesh and stone drowned them out.
Gavin didn’t turn his head to listen, but clenched his fist. He punched the bedpost, shaking and making it crack with his force. “Assassins? Mercenaries? What the fuck is this?” He looked at Alec like he would know the answer.
Alec was silent, and after a brief moment, Gavin snatched up his claymore and stood. “I have to do something.”
“You saw how many there were! What are you going to do?”
“I donae know! Something! Anything! I’ll make the MacDonalds pay for this!” Gavin fought off Alec’s hold on him and started moving for the door.
Alec’s voice stopped him. “You cannae do anything! If they made it to the Laird's chambers, it was too late for him to begin with. The rest of the clans cannae have ye going out there and getting murdered!”
“What am I supposed to do then? Watch my people get slaughtered like animals?” Gavin pushed Alec away.
“You have to leave.”
“You just said I can’t do anything.”
“Not to fight.”
Gavin looked at him in bewilderment. He clenched his jaw and shook his head, his hair falling down across his face. “I cannae leave. I have to do something.”
“That’s what you’ll do. Leave and stay alive. Tell the King what’s happened. I’m sure he won’t approve of his Laird’s getting assassinated — it ain’t right.”
“Why would the King suddenly care? He’s been ignoring us for months.”
“He can’t ignore this.”
Gavin nodded, giving a look to his father’s body.
“Donae look at him. He never would've wanted you to see him like this” Alec said, stepping forward and blocking Gavin’s line of vision.
“I have to. I have to remember what he looked like, so I can do the same to those MacDonald wolves.”
Gavin nodded and sheathed his sword again. As he began to walk out the door, Alec slapped him on the shoulder and stared him in the eyes.
“Good luck, Gavin. Go with God.”
Gavin, despite the severity of it all, managed to crack a faint smile at his friend. He knew that Alec would be a good man to hold down the fort while he was away, and that he had to be the one to go to the King. No one else would have the credibility to show how serious everything was. Gavin gave one last look at his father’s body, and left the room, fighting back the throbbing of his heart as he paced down the hallway.
The halls were vacant, yet the sounds of the carnage outside managed to slip in and make Gavin’s skin crawl. The servants and other clansmen who weren’t dead were staring down the hall from their doors, still clothed in their sleepwear; their faces stricken with anxiety and fear. Gavin tried to assure them as he walked past, but even he knew he didn’t sound very convincing. He tried to swallow his pride as he passed another slain guard, one after another, the bodies piling up as he reached the entrance of the castle.
There, a small group of clansmen and guards held their position at the entrance. Rory and Neil were among them. When they heard Gavin approach they turned to face him with ferocity and were stunned to find the Laird's son.
“Gavin, what are you doing here? It isn’t safe,” Neil said a bit too sternly.
“Aye, I’m aware of that. I have to go though,” Gavin said as he folded his arms across his broad chest. The order seemed to intimidate the guard, who relented a little. He sighed. “Do you know if they’re MacDonald's men?”
“They’ve been saying his name.”
“That’s all I need to hear then. Let me past, I have to talk to the King.”
“The King?” Neil forgot his place again. “Why?”
“Laird Angus is dead.” He paused as he watched the blood drain from Neil’s face, horror striking his heart. “It’s time we involved the King in this dispute between us, it’s gone too far. Alec Macrae will maintain the castle while I’m gone. He’s the only other one who knows where I’ve gone.”
Neil nodded slowly and moved aside. Gavin brushed past him, his shoulder nearly knocking Neil off balance.
***
Outside, in the chaos, he managed to sneak out of the gates and into the stables. A part of him felt ill with guilt of leaving his people, but another part knew this was his only option. He cursed himself for abandoning his father earlier in the day, for leaving their last words together with such bad blood. He couldn’t take it back now though, he had to move forward. He just hoped it wasn’t too late. If the MacDonalds were attacking and had already killed the Laird, what would they do next? If they took the castle, what would stop them? The only thing he could think of was getting the King involved. If that didn’t stop their madness, he had no idea what would.
He moved into the stables and found his prized horse, Elspet. She was a mighty steed, and he was always proud of maintaining one of the finest horses in the land, the strongest and most hearty of all of them, even the stallions the castle kept in order. As he lured her out of her stall, a horse nearby whinnied loudly, startling Gavin. His hand went to his hilt in reflex, but he relaxed when he saw the source of the noise. A thin and sad looking horse. He tossed an extra bale of hay into its stall.
He saddled Elspet and guided her near the doors of the stables. He didn’t want to risk getting spotted as he was climbing atop the saddle, so he threw himself up with a powerful arm in the concealed darkness of the stalls.
Nudging the doors open with his hand, he yanked at the reins and ushered Elspet off into the darkness, her hooves pounding hard against the dry earth, kicking up a small cloud of dust behind him. The black sky kept him hidden and out of sight, but it was miles before the crying and shouting at the castle faded away.
It was a couple days ride to Castle Iverlochy, prolonged if he avoided the main roads. He was worried he might not keep his energy up, but he knew that God would be on his side. He had to be, how could such injustice go unpunished?
Dark clouds scattered the sky, threatening to give a lasting respite for all the drought that they had caused for so long. He wished that they would have come sooner, perhaps the clans that had moved into the castle walls would have been safer if they had stayed in Dornie.
God knows they hadn’t been protected inside the keep.
With his heart aching and his eyes set on the horizon, he steeled himself for the long journey across the highlands.
Only for a moment did the flash of the red haired lass reach his mind. He stopped Elspet on the top of a slope and turned to face the castle. An orange glow bloomed against the ramparts and keep, even from this distance he could almost hear the sounds of crying and wailing. His heart tugged at him, begged him to go back and save the lass, but his courage wasn’t enough.
Tearing himself away from the sight and horror, he urged Elspet back on, heading down the slope and finally putting Eilean Donan Castle out of view.
But not out of his mind and heart.
Chapter 3: Elyn
1540 — August 26th
Elyn jolted awake at the first sound of crashing and screams. In the darkness, she saw Sheena’s eyes staring back at her, already awake. She was sitting up and clutching a thin blanket to her chest defensively.
“What was that?” Elyn said, her voice a harsh whisper. Her parents stirred and moved, but didn’t wake.
Sheena shook her head and didn’t answer. Another crash resounded outside
their house. Murmuring and screams echoed through the window, footsteps marching back and forth, a frenzied crowd. Elyn's mind cleared from her drowsiness, and her heart started to race. The sounds of swords being unsheathed and yelling followed, and Elyn jumped out of bed, nearly tripping on the sheets as they tangled around her foot. She pulled herself up off the ground and shook her parents awake.
“Ma, Da, wake up! Something’s happening! Wake up! Something is happening!” Another loud crash erupted outside, and a dim glow poured in from the window. Fire. The familiar crackle echoed in the courtyard, the familiar smell of smoke and burnt meat wafting into the room. The air clouded with soot, but slipped in through one window and escaped through the opposite.
“What’s that?” her Ma asked, wrapping her arms around her husband. Elyn shook her head and put her finger to her lips.
“Shh,” Elyn whispered, her teeth clenched. “I donae know anymore than you do. Some drunks fighting.” She didn’t even believe it herself. She knew her Ma didn’t buy it.
She snuck up to the window and hid underneath it, her back against the wall. She turned and peeked through the opening. Several masked clansmen pushed a woman down to the hard cobble and wrestled her into submission, her arms flailing in protest and her screams drowned out by the sickening laughter of the men assaulting her. Another man threw a lit torch into an open window and cackled as the house burst into flames, joining several others across the way that were already ablaze. Several villagers were running in a panicked frenzy, screaming and yelling for help. Elyn couldn’t spot any guards outside, no one helping as the town was driven into ash. Were they all dead?
Elyn covered her mouth, trying to hold back the horror from making her scream. She couldn’t say a word, the urge trapped in her throat.
“What’s happen’? Out with it already!” Sheena begged.
“I— I donae believe it,” Elyn managed to finally choke out. “People, dying, I can’t understand it. Are the MacDonalds doing this...?”