Page 105 of The Chieftain
“A thousand welcomes to ye, brother. I’m glad to meet ye at last,” Connor greeted Torquil, a rough-looking warrior of about thirty years, who had the same jet-black hair as Connor and Ian. “These are your MacDonald cousins, Alex and Ian, and our friend Duncan.”
“I accept your offer,” Torquil said. “My warriors will fight with yours today in exchange for you doing the same for me when the time comes.”
Torquil was a chieftain without lands. After his father had supported the last rebellion, the Crown had punished him by taking away his clan’s traditional lands on the isle of Lewis.
“I gladly give ye my pledge,” Connor said, grasping forearms with his brother.
“Good,” Torquil said with a broad smile. “My men are ready for a fight.”
***
All day, Ilysa and Flora had kept busy while they waited for news. Malcom had left a couple of hours before dawn. The cottage was fairly close to the mouth of the Snizort River, so they had been among the last to receive thecrann tara.
After hours of sewing, Ilysa had worked her way through the pile of children’s clothing that needed mending. She stuck her needle in a scrap and carefully set it in her medicine basket. As she did, her fingers touched the rock she had found at the faery glen, which she had put in the basket along with her brooch for safekeeping. She took the rock out and turned it over in her palm, watching it sparkle in the firelight from the hearth.
Flora came over with Brigid on her hip and looked over Ilysa’s shoulder. “I do believe that’s my rock,” she said.
“How can ye be so sure?” Ilysa said with a laugh. She was not about to tell Flora that she had found it in the faery glen.
“I carried it in my pocket for years as a gift to appease the faeries should one cross my path,” Flora said. “I gave it to our chieftain the night he was here in case he needed it. Did he give it to ye?”
“I believe he thought I was a faery,” Ilysa said in a soft voice as she rubbed her thumb over it.
Flora’s laugh was cut short when Lachlan burst through the door. He was carrying Malcom, who was bleeding from the head. While Flora and Ewan rushed to help him, Ilysa fetched a blanket and spread it on the floor in front of the hearth where the light was best.
“There were hundreds of MacLeod warriors,” Malcom said after they lay him down. “I thought they’d never stop coming.”
“The wound is worse than it looks,” Ilysa said as she stanched the blood, then she looked to Lachlan. “What other news can ye give us?”
“The MacLeod force is three times the size of ours, and it was looking grim at midday,” Lachlan said. “But then the MacLeod of Lewis arrived with his warriors.”
“Flora, ye would have been proud of Lachlan,” Malcom said. “Ye should see him fight.”
“Hush now,” Flora said. “Ye must save your strength.”
“I just wanted to bring Malcom home,” Lachlan said. “I must get back. The battle will continue tomorrow.”
Ilysa followed him to the door and asked in a low voice, “How bad does it look, truly?”
“I fear there’s no end in sight,” Lachlan said. “That old goat MacLeod shows no sign of giving in.”
***
Celebrating Beltane made for a strange end to the toughest day of fighting Connor could remember, but the ritual, which brought purification and luck, was important to the clan. Connor was the first to pass between the two giant bonfires, followed by all the warriors and a few families who lived nearby. Finally, some cattle were driven between the fires.
Now that the herds and crops were protected for the coming year, Connor hoped it would not be for the benefit of the MacLeods. He looked across the river to where the MacLeod bonfires blazed against the night sky while he listened to the soft voices of his own men talking. After their cries for blood earlier, they were subdued.
He had lost too many men today. If this fight continued much longer, there would be no winner. Thanks to Torquil’s arrival, they had succeeded in holding the MacLeods at the river. But Torquil had only half the men Connor had expected from MacIain, and it was not enough for a decisive victory.
He could not blame Alastair MacLeod for taking Trotternish when the MacDonalds were weak and it had been easy. That was the way of it in the Highlands—the strong survived. That was also why Connor had to take back Trotternish. Either you defended your lands or you risked being attacked on all sides.
But if Sorely and that handful of fools had not defiled the MacLeod dead and raped their women, the MacLeod would likely have decided by now that losing so many warriors was not worth taking land that did not belong to him. Connor hoped Sorely was burning in hell.
“I’m grateful to ye for coming,” Connor said to Torquil as they sat with their backs against a log watching the bonfires.
“We have a blood tie,” Torquil said, as if that explained it.
“Frankly, I’m more accustomed to that leading to murder,” Connor said with a dry laugh. After a long while, he said, “I am sorry for how our mother left ye.”
