Page 132 of Bound By Honor
The thick fur cradled her as she welcomed him into her arms, running her fingers through his damp hair. “I love you, Angus Macdonald.”
“And I you, my Irish lass.” His lips on her breasts had her melting into the furs.
Eventually, they found their way to the bed where they took their fill of each other and lay entangled for a long while. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I suppose my constable and steward would have words with me,” he said, “yet I find it hard to rise from this bed and the loveliest woman in the Isles. The king’s men still speak of your beauty. ’Tis most annoying.”
She laughed. “Jealousy becomes you.” Áine knew she was being selfish to keep him so long from his men anxious to meet with him concerning the business of the Isles as well as the war. Eventually, she would have to let him go. “Some of the chiefs have paid me a visit in your absence. They would speak to you about the war and other matters. Will you call a meeting of the Council before you rejoin the king?”
“It might be prudent,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I would ask them to join me when I sail in a month.”
“So soon you would go?”
“The king has need of my warriors and galloglass for he would pursue our enemies, the Comyns and MacDougalls.” Then, pulling her into his arms, he whispered into her hair, “At least we have this time.”
“Before you sail, we might have a wedding to attend.”
“Really? Whose?”
“Did you not notice how your captain embraced Nessa on the beach? I assume you spoke to him and he is willing, if not eager, to take her as his bride.”
“Oh, aye. Conall is willing. It would be a happy event ere we sail.”
They rose and donned fresh clothing. Angus asked if she wanted to attend his meeting with his men. Because she desired to know of the plans that would see her husband again in battle, she nodded and followed him down to the great hall. There, a group awaited him: John, Duncan, his constable, the Dunyvaig steward, Angus’ guards and the leaders of his men still on Islay.
ANGUS RECEIVED THE reports from the men left in charge, which assured him that, except for Dunaverty, the rest of their castles and the Isles had escaped raids by their enemies during his absence. “Lachlan MacRuairi holds the Comyns in check on the north coast,” said his constable.
In turn, Angus apprised them of the war in the southwest, of King Robert’s loss of two more brothers and how the king’s army grew with his successes. “With these battles behind us and King Edward’s death, I was able to return to the Isles. But I can stay only a month. Scotland’s fate remains at issue. When he resolves matters in England, the new King Edward will turn his attention to Scotland. Meantime, King Robert must see to his Scottish enemies.” Then, passing his gaze over each of the men assembled, he said, “When I return to the king, I will take more men and ships. Some of you can go with me.
“Then there is another matter. Before his death, King Edward ordered Sir Hugh Bissett to gather a fleet in Ireland and sail to the Isles to hunt King Robert and his abettors, which, of course, includes us. Thankfully, Sir Hugh failed in that effort, in part, I believe for his lack of enthusiasm for the task. Still, we should patrol the waters of the Irish Sea from the Isle of Man north and the waters between Ulster and Scotland.
“The merchants who sail past Galloway and the Ayrshire coast on their way to supply English soldiers are lightly-crewed and easily taken. In this manner, we can deprive the English of their provisions while enriching King Robert’s army.”
“With your permission, my lord,” said one of his captains, “I would take four galleys and see to that task.”
“Very well,” said Angus, pleased.
“How might we help you support King Robert?” asked his constable.
“Before Robert Bruce can face the young King Edward,” said Angus, “he must deal with the Comyns and the MacDougalls, who now serve the English.”
“Our enemies,” said the constable, nodding.
“Aye. They have changed sides with the rise of Robert Bruce, as have we. For such a fight, we will need more warriors. Unlike the English, who do not fight like Highlanders, and thus can be deceived, the Comyns and MacDougalls know well both our Scottish lands and our methods of striking fast with stealth and then retreating into the mist. What they do not have is the power of a hundred galleys and our many galloglass. They have some, I grant you, but not as many.”
“What would you have us do?” asked his constable.
“Pay a visit to our shipwright on Islay to ask what he needs to increase the number of galleys he can build.”
“I will gladly see to that,” said his constable. “I can do it and still command the galloglass here.”
“If you call upon the chiefs as you sail north,” said Áine to Angus, “you could speak to them about their fleets and men to fight for King Robert without the need for a Council meeting.”
“Aye, a good idea. The MacNeils of Barra and the Macleods of Skye come to mind as builders of galleys. The MacRuairis of Garmoran build them as well.” Then, with a smile for his wife, he added, “After all, my lady, your Irishmen did not come with their own ships nor did I expect them to, but we must have ships for them when we summon them to war.”
“We will need more armor and weapons,” said one of his galloglass captains.
“Aye,” agreed Angus. “We had best check the status of our armories, and you would be the man to do it. We confiscated some weapons from the English as booty but those were needed by King Robert’s growing army.”
