Page 113 of Bound By Honor
The head and the body parts were dipped in tar to preserve them. His head was displayed on a pike on London Bridge, and the four quarters of his mutilated body separately displayed in Newcastle, Berwick, Stirling, and Perth. Angus shuddered as he remembered that he and Wallace shared the same birth year.
Angus decided it was time to prepare the Isles for what was coming. Though he had laid the groundwork with Áine’s Irish army in training and weapons, now he would do more. With Duncan and John, he set out in two galleys full of galloglass to assess the fighting skills of his Irish settlers and the Islesmen. He was not disappointed, for he found the men trained and their weapons fashioned from good steel. Arrows, too, had been laid aside in great numbers. Satisfied, Angus provisioned his castles should the Islesmen be away for some time from their homes and unable to tend their crops.
In autumn, the efforts of Angus and his partners in the hunt for the MacDougalls finally paid off. Alexander MacDougall was taken and submitted to Edward, which at first caused Angus to rejoice. But when no royal censure was forthcoming, nor any punishment for the murder of Angus’ brother or for the decimation of Macdonald lands, it was a turning point for Angus and the chiefs of the lordship. Henceforth, they would look to their own interests, and those of Scotland, and not those of the English king. “I will yet have justice from MacDougall no matter it takes years,” he told Duncan and John.
Angus quickly penned a letter to Rob before sending word to the clans for the Council of the Isles to convene at Finlaggan.
To Sir Robert Bruce from Angus Og Macdonald, Lord of the Isles,
The hunt for Alexander MacDougall produced his submission to Edward. However, there was no forfeiture or any punishment for his clan’s treachery. This leaves me free to follow my conscience and my heart. I will soon meet with the Council of the Isles to advise the chiefs. When the time comes, the lordship is ready to stand with you.
At the Council meeting, Angus told the chiefs all that had happened and what he believed was coming. “This time, we will not fight for England’s king,” he said, “but for Scotland and the Isles.” That evoked cheers from the chiefs, who had only fought for the English king because he fought against the enemies of the Macdonald lordship.
Angus did not tell the chiefs of the “new king” prophesied by the seer of the Rhinns of Islay. He only told them to be watchful and prepared, for the enemies of the Bruces and Macdonalds now served King Edward.
In late autumn, while Angus and Áine lingered on Islay, Áine gave birth to another daughter. The bairn came early but was delivered healthy. They named her Mary, for Angus’ eldest sister and the mother of the Savior. Little Mary’s eyes, at first as blue as his own, soon turned to her mother’s rich brown. Like her sister, Angus thought her lovely.
Áine, who had prayed for a son, was disappointed. “Oh, Angus, I had so hoped to give you a son this time.”
“You are not yet thirty,” he told his wife. “There is time for another lad. Mayhap God did not answer you, ‘Nay’, my love, only ‘Nay yet’.”
Angus was not worried. Though more sons were desired and he would do his best to produce them, he had Alexander, an intelligent, strong and handsome lad. The boy, only five years, kept Angus’ guards busy with his quick mind and fascination with their weapons. Angus finally had to give him a small wooden sword so he could play at mimicking the guards’ skill. Whenever they visited Juliana and her lively sons, it was always a tussle to see which boy would prevail.
As Christmas neared, Brian returned from his fostering with the O’Neills. Angus and Áine welcomed him into their arms and back into their growing family.
A child had gone to Ulster. A young man of fifteen, tall and lithe, returned, his red hair darkened and on his chin the beginnings of a beard. The sword at his side was that of a warrior, a long blade of sharpened steel.
Accompanying Brian was Enbarr, his mare, and a different wolfhound. “Sadly, Lir died just before I left Ulster but I have his daughter.” Standing beside him was a gangly hound that looked very much like Lir when he was young, his gray fur trimmed in white. “I wrote you about Fand,” he said. “She is Lir’s daughter and still a pup.”
“I remember,” said Angus. “A lovely hound she is, too.”
“I am giving her to Mother,” he said shifting his gaze to Áine, who stepped forward to stroke the head of the young hound. “To replace her wolfhound that died.”
Angus thought the gift a grand idea, not only for the company but for protection when he was away. “Aye, ’tis a worthy gift.”
“I thank you, Son,” said Áine. “She is very noble looking, and her name is familiar.”
“In the Irish myths, Fand is the wife of Lir.”
And so Fand, too, became a part of the family.
Alexander was thrilled that his older brother had returned and announced he, too, would like his own wolfhound. Everyone laughed but Angus made a mental note to see it done.
Brian approved of his young sibling, who was eager to show him how well he could brandish about his wooden sword. “He has grown so!” remarked Brian.
Áine laughed. “So have you!”
As for his young sisters, Brian paid them little attention. They were yet too small for their beauty to be admired. But when grown, all in the Isles would be beguiled by them as they were with their mother. Both Brian and Alexander would have to guard their sisters from many suitors.
They celebrated Christmas and the days to Epiphany at Dunyvaig with Mass and music and feasting. Angus’ brother, John, and cousin, Duncan, attended, along with Juliana and her brood of sons. Some of the Irishmen had settled on Islay, becoming a part of Angus’ crews, and they happily joined in the celebrations.
After Christmas, a letter arrived from Rob, telling Angus he had returned to Scotland.
I was in London to witness the torture, trial and brutal treatment of Wallace. It was all I could do not to retch. Cruelty unmeasured. I am glad I had nothing to do with his betrayal or capture.
He was brave to the end, Angus. At his trial, when accused of treason, speaking of Edward, he said, “I cannot be a traitor, for I owe him no allegiance. He is not my sovereign; he never received my homage; and whilst life is in this persecuted body, he never shall receive it.”
All of Scotland mourns him and, because of the manner in which his death was accomplished, the hatred for Edward grows. The king committed a grave error when he made a martyr of noble Wallace.
