“Nay, ye fool. I am nay man such as that. I will not see ye drowned out here, jump for God’s sake,” Bryce said, holding out his hand towards Stewart, who tentatively loosened his grip.
Just then another wave came crashing over the hull and it knocked Stewart from his place and into the swirling depths below. He let out a cry, thrashing around, as the current carried him in its wake. Bryce now leaned right out from the boat, clinging to the side and he caught hold of Stewart’s arm, pulling at him with all his might. It took a great heave to bring the McKinnon Laird to the boat side, and Bryce almost went overboard as he did so.
Stewart scrambled over the side, spluttering and collapsing onto the floor next to Ailsa. He could hardly breathe and coughed violently and gasping for air. Bryce grabbed hold of the oars and forced the boat away from the hull of the stricken ship and into the open waters away from the rocks. Now, the current took hold of them, spinning the ship around and off towards the shore, as though the storm had had its fun with them and finished its toying mockery.
The sail of the little boat was ripped in two and part of the mast had collapsed. Bryce rowed them through the current, the boat banking as he did so but away from danger of the rocks. Now the young Laird breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at Ailsa, lying beneath them, her eyes closed.
“Ailsa, are ye alright? Open yer eyes now, there’s a good lass,” Bryce said, reaching down and shaking her shoulder as she looked wearily up at him.
“I … thank ye, Bryce,” she whispered, struggling to sit up, her face smarting with the pain of her leg.
Stewart too, rolled onto his side, coughing once again. He had a deep gash above his eyebrow and raised his hand to his head, blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“Ye … ye saved me, Bryce Dunbar,” he said, shaking his head.
“Would ye nae have done the same for me, Stewart McKinnon?” Bryce said as the boat came into the surf of the beach.
Stewart made no reply, but simply looked around in disbelief. The first light of morning breaking over the horizon beyond. The storm was clearing now, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Like a pack of wolves slinking off into the forest. Bryce leaped out of the boat, pulling it up towards the beach, his legs giving way as he did so. He was exhausted and now that they were safe, he felt the full weight of what had just occurred. How easily he could have been killed; how easily could they all have perished in that storm? It was too horrific to contemplate and now that he looked out over the calming sea he could not imagine where such violence had erupted from, as the dark clouds disappeared onto the horizon.
“Ye were a fool to risk that voyage, Stewart. A fool and make nay mistake, what were ye thinking?” Bryce said, as Stewart struggled out of the boat.
“That ye would cut my throat if I dinnae,” Stewart replied, sighing.
“Idiot. Ye burn my castle gates, ye kill my men, ye take poor Ailsa by force and then ye sail out on some foolhardy return. I am a man of peace, I dinnae ask for this. All I did was help a lass who needed it. A lass whom ye have now subjected to two shipwrecks and all the horror that goes with them,” Bryce said, his anger rising.
“I am a fool,” Stewart said, “And ye should have let me drown out there.”
“A fool dinnae deserve to die in a storm, but a man who would attack innocent people for his own greed perhaps does. But I wouldnae have ye on my conscience, Stewart McKinnon. Now, let us help Ailsa to the castle, I trust ye have nay objection to that?” Bryce said, as he gently took Ailsa in his arms and helped her from the boat.
Chapter 10
Forsaking all Others
The sun was casting its early morning rays across the beach. The sad sight of the stricken boats lying out on the headland beyond. Waves were lapping gently at the shore and there was a gentle breeze playing across the sand.
Bryce and Stewart had Ailsa between them, half carrying her, as they walked back to the castle. Bryce had pulled the boat as far up the beach as he could, and it looked a sorry state. Its dilapidated mast and sails hanging tattered and beaten.
The guards on the castle walls were amazed at the sight and the sergeant called down to the Laird as the three paused before the burned-out gates.
“Hail, Laird. What is this? The enemy returned?” the sergeant cried.
“Nay, the enemy nay longer, for there is none but Stewart McKinnon and he owes his life to a Dunbar,” Bryce replied. “Send out the men, help us now, come on.”
The sergeant wasted no time, and he sent out several of his men, who took hold of Stewart McKinnon and helped Ailsa inside. They would take no chances with the Laird of their rival clan and once inside the courtyard Stewart found himself surrounded by angry Dunbars.
“Peace men, peace. We dinnae step so low that we would kill an unarmed man. I rescued the Laird of the McKinnons to show that we Dunbars dinnae seek revenge, but only peace, ye hear me,” Bryce said, looking around at his clansmen.
“His men have killed many of our own though,” one man said.
“Aye, and now they have paid for it by falling beneath the waves. There were nay other survivors from the storm, only the Laird and Ailsa. Right now, I want her seen to, take her inside and see that my mother takes good care of her,” Bryce said.
“And what of this man?” the sergeant said, pointing at Stewart McKinnon.
“Bring him too, he can see what true hospitality looks like,” Bryce replied.
“Ye are not the first to arrive at the castle this morning, Laird,” the sergeant said, as Bryce prepared to follow the others into the keep.
“Oh? And who else might we be entertaining?” Bryce asked.
“The father of the lass, sir. He arrived at first light, wishing to see his daughter. Yer mother has explained the situation, I fear it fair rattled the old man. He is inside now and will be glad to speak to ye, I am sure,” the sergeant said.
“Aye, very good. I wondered if he would arrive, perhaps now he shall see the futility of sending his poor wee daughter off on such a fanciful quest,” Bryce said, shaking his head.
The sergeant went back to his post, though the threat of the McKinnon’s was now past. Bryce turned and headed for the keep, following the last of his men inside. He was tired, the exertions of the night and day before weighing heavily upon him. He was hungry too, but there was much to see to before he could rest and eat. As he entered the Great Hall, his mother ran to greet him, throwing her arms around him and embracing him to her.
“Oh, Bryce, dear Bryce. I have been so worried. I watched the storm, and it seemed to grow ever worse with every passing minute. Ye were a fool to take a boat out in it,” she said, sobbing and laughing as she continued to embrace him.
“And if I had nae been a fool, then two more lives would have been lost and perhaps more in the future,” he said.
“I am just glad ye are safe,” she said, letting go of him and turning to Ailsa.
The young lass was laid carefully by the fire, blankets placed over her and Lady Dunbar began to fuss. Bryce came to kneel beside her, taking her hand and looking lovingly down at her.
“Ye are alright now, lass, dinnae worry, ye hear me? Ye are safe and we shall take good care of ye,” Bryce said.
“It seems ye have already taken good care of my daughter,” a voice from behind said.
Bryce turned to find an elderly man with keen eyes watching him from beside the chimney breast. He stepped forward, reaching out his hand with a smile on his face.
“Andrew Kennedy, Ailsa’s father,” he said as Bryce took his hand and shook it.
“I am pleased to meet ye, though I wish it were under different circumstances,” Bryce said.
“I came as soon as I heard of the shipwreck, it has taken me several days travel and I arrive to find my daughter shipwrecked once again,” Andrew Kennedy said, looking sadly down at his daughter.
“Aye, and it was a foolish thing to send her off in the first place,” Bryce said, for he had little regard for Ailsa’s father’s dec
ision to marry her off in such a way.
“I did what I thought was right. Though I realize now that I was a fool,” Andrew said, “I am sorry, Ailsa,” and he kneeled next to his daughter, taking hold of her hand, a tear running down his cheek.
Ailsa was still, her eyes closed, breathing gently. Lady Dunbar ordered the servants to stoke up the fire, and she too took hold of Ailsa’s hand, look lovingly down at her.
“The poor wee lass has nae had much luck these past weeks,” she said, shaking her head.
“She should never have been sent to that island,” Bryce said as Ailsa’s father looked up.
“I know that, and she should never have been take away as she was,” he said, turning to Stewart McKinnon who was slumped in a chair to the side of the fire.
He had been quiet since their arrival, looking cautiously around as the Dunbar’s eyed him with suspicion. There was no love lost for the laird of the McKinnons and if it had been up to any but Bryce Dunbar then he would have gone to his watery grave.
“I did what I thought was best,” Stewart replied, shaking his head and pursing his lips.
“What was best? Taking my daughter away by ship when a great storm is about to rage. Ye both could have been killed, have ye nay regard for that? And what of yer poor men, all gone to their deaths because of yer stupidity. I had thought better of ye, Stewart McKinnon. That was why I trusted my daughter with ye in the first place,” Andrew said, his face flushed with anger.
“And I am sorry, I was wrong to dae that. I was blinded by jealousy, by rage, by anger,” Stewart said.
“By yer own stupidity,” Lady Dunbar said, turning on Stewart. “Ye have always been a fool, Stewart McKinnon and today ye proved that beyond doubt.”
“I am sorry, alright, I ken I was a fool and for that I will seek to make amends,” he replied, shaking his head and burying it in his hands. “I have been a fool, and I have seen enemies where perhaps I should have seen friends.”
At these words Bryce stood up from his place at Ailsa’s side and turned to Stewart, the two facing each other, eyeing one another with suspicion.
“I could have let ye drown out there, Stewart. But I dinnae because I am not like ye. I am nay war mongerer, I am nae a man of violence and I wish for nay more conflict with ye. But now ye are nae in a position to dictate terms and I say to ye what I said before, it is up to Ailsa to decide what happens to her now,” Bryce said.
“And for her father too,” Andrew said.
“Nay, nae for her father, for Ailsa alone. She will nae be dictated to by men, she will make her own decision. Freely and without coercion,” Bryce said, turning angrily to Ailsa’s father, “I have nay doubt that ye are a good and honorable man, Andrew Kennedy, but ye were a fool to send yer daughter away. She loved her home, and she had nay desire to leave it. If it were nae for the storm, she would have arrived on McKinnon island to live an unhappy life and on yer head would that unhappiness have been. Yers too Stewart, for I know just how ye would have treated the lass,” Bryce said, shaking his head.
Both men were silent, and Bryce turned now to Ailsa, who stirred restlessly before the fire and opened her eyes. Lady Dunbar reached down to help her and with some difficulty she sat up, her face pained as she tried to move her leg.
“Careful now, dear, dinnae strain yerself,” Lady Dunbar said as Ailsa rolled onto her side.
“I …” she began, “I will try my best to speak fairly, but Bryce speaks the truth. Ye should never have allowed me to be sent away like that, Father. I would never have been happy with Stewart and ye know it. I would never have been happy with any man that I dinnae know. Ye sent me off on that ship to a fate I had nay desire to receive, a fate which would have left me broken and unhappy.”
“But why dinnae ye say, Ailsa?” her father said, kneeling at her side.
“Ye gave me nay choice. Ye sent me off without so much as a question, and all because ye feared for me once ye were gone. Ye were as good as gone when that boat sailed away and now ye come here to send me away again, do ye?” she said, regaining something of her strength.
“Nay, Ailsa. I came here to tell ye that I too have been a fool and that I have missed ye dearly since ye were gone. The young Laird is right, the choice should be yers and yers alone. It is nae up to me whom ye marry and it should be a choice which makes ye happy, not one that leaves ye sad,” he replied. “And as for the way ye have behaved Stewart McKinnon, well, I wouldnae wish my daughter to marry ye now, even if she should wish to.”
Stewart McKinnon gave no answer, his head hung in shame and Bryce placed his hand upon his shoulder. Stewart looked up in surprise to see Bryce smiling at him.
“Ye cannae hold a grudge forever, Stewart, and despite all ye have done I am still willing to count ye less an enemy and more a friend, if ye so wish it? Too long have our clans been at enmity with one another. Now is the time for peace, but ye must renounce yerself of Ailsa,” Bryce said and turning to Ailsa he smiled again. “What do ye say, lass Where would ye go?”
Ailsa drew herself up and looking at Bryce she smiled.
“I would go nowhere except here, Bryce. I would stay here with ye, if ye shall have me, for I have come to love ye and yer bravery and courage have surely shown that ye love me too,” she said.
Bryce grinned broadly and knelt before her, taking her in his arms and holding her closely. Neither Stewart nor Andrew Kennedy made any move and Bryce laid a gentle kiss upon Ailsa’s cheek and turned to them both, a look of happiness spread across his face.
“I have come to love Ailsa with all my heart and if she wishes to stay here with me, then she will. What do ye both say?” he said.
Ailsa’s father nodded and Stewart McKinnon gave a weak smile, as Bryce embraced Ailsa once more.
“I love ye, Ailsa and I shall love ye for the rest of my life. I promise ye,” he said.
“I love ye too, Bryce and I promise the same, thank ye,” she replied, and around them the clansmen let out a cheer.
Lady Dunbar clapped her hands together, a look of delight upon her face and she congratulated both her son and future daughter-in-law warmly. Ailsa was helped up into a chair, resting her leg up and breathing a deep sigh of relief. It seemed the worst of her shock was over, and she was given a strong chamomile tea and whisky to revive her.
There was a mood of celebration in the castle, but what to do with Stewart McKinnon, who now stood to one side eyeing those around him with suspicion.
“We shall take a walk, ye and I,” Bryce said once he had ensured that Ailsa was comfortable.
Stewart looked at him with suspicion. But Bryce nodded his head, and the Laird had no choice but to follow him, the Dunbars standing around, their swords slung casually at their sides. Outside the two stood in the courtyard, above them a bright blue sky, the storm now long passed.
“Ye have burned my gates,” Bryce said, pointing to the charred wood, now piled up at the entrance to the castle, “and ye have killed my men, but ye have not won the prize ye believed was yers to take.”
“I was a fool, I see that now,” Stewart McKinnon replied.
“Aye, and I forgive ye for it, because I dinnae believe I have won a prize. Ailsa was nae a prize to be won, she is a lass with her own mind, one which she has made up, for better or worse, that much awaits to be seen,” Bryce replied. “But if ye can find it in yer heart to see us both happy then I can find it in mine to call ye a friend. Despite what ye have done.”
Stewart McKinnon turned to him, a strange look coming across his face. As though, for the first time in his life, he had encountered the kindness of another.
“I owe ye my life, Bryce Dunbar and now that so many of my clan are lost, it seems we can nay longer see one another as enemies. Unless that is ye intend to run me through and take my lands, as would be yer right,” Stewart said.
Bryce just shook his head and placed his arm on Stewart’s shoulder.
“I have nay desire for such a thing. I am a man of peace and peace is what
we shall have, our two clans need not be enemies. We can be as friends, separated only by a channel of water and together build strong clans, united together by common good,” Bryce said.
“Aye, and if that be the case then I accept Ailsa’s choice. Ye have quite a feisty lass on yer hands though, are ye sure ye can handle her?” Stewart said, laughing.
“Aye, she is feisty, but sweet and gentle too and I am sure she will handle me very well,” Bryce said, shaking Stewart by the hand as the two returned inside.
Ailsa had quite revived and as the two Lairds came to her chairside, she smiled and took hold of Bryce’s hand.
“Now, lass, Stewart has something to say to ye,” Bryce said, turning to the McKinnon Laird, who blushed.
“Oh, yes, and what is that?” Ailsa replied, a look of disdain upon her face.
“I am sorry, and I say that without reserve,” Stewart said, “I am sorry for the way in which I treated ye and the way in which I claimed ye as my property, when in fact ye are a free lass and should make up yer own mind.”
Ailsa nodded, and Bryce, looked again at Stewart.
“And?” he said.
“And, I have nay further claim upon ye,” Stewart said, turning to Ailsa’s father. “Neither dae I make any further claim from ye, good sir. Our arrangement is dissolved, and I am happy to say that Ailsa is to be married to Bryce and let that be known amongst ye all.”
“And let it be known amongst ye all that the McKinnons and the Dunbars are no longer enemies but friends,” Bryce said. “We two Lairds have now agreed it and we shall put our differences behind us in the hope that together we can be stronger.”
There was a general murmuring amongst the men, but at that point Lady Dunbar stepped forward, placing her hand on Bryce’s arm and calling for silence.
“I have lived through many a winter and I have seen too many battles between McKinnon and Dunbar. Let us nae forget that we are celebratin’ a marriage here and that marriage is a symbol of peace between hearts. If we can celebrate that, then perhaps the rest of us can put our differences aside and seek peace, rather than war,” she said, as Bryce turned to her and smiled.
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