Page 2 of Bound By Honor
The castle itself stood on a rocky spit of land covered in a carpet of green. Its high wall was crowned with a battlement. Each corner of the keep was braced by a tall slender tower that flew a red and gold pennon.
“Are those the Bruce colors?” Angus asked his brother.
“They are, though the Bruces hold the castle and the earldom of Carrick through Marjorie, Countess of Carrick, the wife of Robert the Noble’s son and heir. The Bruces have other castles. Lochmaben is the main seat of the lordship of Annandale.”
“Well, this one is impressive,” remarked Angus, staring up at the castle.
His father nodded. “Aye, needs must with the English close at their backs, sometimes an ally and sometimes an enemy.” The same could be said of the MacDougalls, thought Angus, their kinsmen who were often more enemy than friend.
As they sailed closer, a huge arched opening in the rock beneath the castle loomed before them like a great yawning mouth open to the sea. The portcullis had been raised, leaving only the tips of its iron teeth showing. The crew took down the sail and, moving to the oars, rowed the ship through the great sea gate. Angus felt like he was being swallowed by a giant fish.
Once inside the belly of the fortress, the crew maneuvered the ship next to a stone quay where three servants waited.
One, dressed in a fine crimson surcoat embroidered in gold thread such as a seneschal would wear, bowed to Angus’ father. “Welcome to Turnberry, my lord. We have been expecting you.”
The saffron pennon flying a black galley with furled sails confirmed the ship belonged to The Macdonald, the Chief of the Name, but the seneschal’s warm greeting suggested his father had been here before.
“’Tis a fine day,” said Angus’ father as he stepped from the ship to the ledge with Alex and Angus following.
The thin, dark-haired seneschal inclined his head. “We could not have asked for better weather for those arriving by ship. Your baggage will be delivered to your chambers, my lord. The other guests await you in the great hall.” He gestured to the stone stairs. “The Earl of Carrick asks that your men beach the ship next to the others.”
“Aye,” said Angus’ father, turning to give orders to the captain to see it done.
“Your crew will have lodgings just outside the castle within the palisade.”
Angus’ father thanked the seneschal before exchanging a nod of agreement with his captain. It was a great honor for an Isleman to captain the Lord of the Isles’ galley. This captain was one of Angus’ father’s most worthy warriors, elevated for his skills and loyalty.
They took the stairs that wound upward to a door giving entrance to a great hall. Herbed rushes on the polished stone floor gave off a pleasant smell as Angus stepped into the room and gazed up at the timbered ceiling high above them. The walls beneath were paneled oak and displayed Bruce banners and tapestries depicting hunting scenes. A large fireplace dominated one wall already laid with wood ready to be lit.
At one end of the hall, a minstrels’ gallery of carved oak was set above the chamber. Dark and silent now, Angus imagined it filled with musicians like songbirds in a tree high above the forest floor.
In the center of the hall, a dozen men in opulent attire stood around a long wooden table. Their surcoats were embellished with embroidery and, in some cases, jewels. They spoke in hushed voices as they drank from goblets of silver.
The men turned as the Macdonald men entered. An older man separated himself from the group and crossed to them, his smile wide. Angus assumed this was their host, Robert the Noble, Lord of Annandale. His dark hair and slight beard were thick with silver and his gray eyes shone with welcome.
He offered his hand to the Lord of the Isles. “Angus, my good friend! You are the last to join us.”
“We are not late, I trust?” said Angus’ father, a note of amusement in his voice.
“Nay, more like on time to your thinking.” The Lord of Annandale chuckled. “We have only just begun to pour the wine.”
“You know my lawful heir, my eldest, Alexander,” said the Lord of the Isles.
“I do,” replied Robert the Noble. His gaze shifted to Angus. “You bring another fine son?”
His father laid his arm across Angus’ shoulder. “My middle son, Angus Og. I thought he might spend time with your grandson, Robert.”
The Lord of Annandale raised his thick brows. “An excellent thought. I will summon him.” Calling a servant, their host issued instructions before turning back to Angus’ father. “I believe you and Alexander know all here save some of the elder sons who accompanied their fathers.”
Angus had not yet been told to leave, so he followed behind his father and brother at a discreet distance as they walked toward the men who were gathered around the table. It occurred to him that whatever these noblemen were about, they expected it to affect the next generation or the lords would not have brought their sons.
The Lord of Annandale then introduced them. “For those of you who do not yet know him, meet Sir Angus Mor Macdonald, Lord of the Isles and a longtime friend. He brings with him his eldest son, Alexander, and his middle son, Angus Og.”
“Angus Mor is also a friend of mine,” said a younger man with dark red hair and trimmed beard, who was of an age with Angus’ brother.
“Doubtless, you know every man here, de Burgh,” said the elder Robert Bruce. He turned to Angus’ father. “The Red Earl of Ulster was instrumental in calling us together so you know he must be in need of something.”
A few of the men hid their laughter behind their hands.
