Page 25 of Bound By Honor
On the other side of the farthest table, Angus heard shouting. He turned to watch. The argument was between a MacDougall and one of Alex’s Islemen. “I had best see what this is about,” he said as he strode toward the altercation. Duncan followed on his heels.
As they ventured closer, Angus heard the MacDougall say with slurred words, “Do ya th…think we are so stu…stupid as to let a Macdonald keep the isle whereourbishop lives?”
This produced ribald laughter from his companions.
“He’s notyourbishop, you idiot,” replied the still sober and now angry Isleman. “The Bishop of Argyll serves the whole diocese.”
“He isourbis…bishop!” With these words, the MacDougall took a swing at the Isleman but, because of his drunken state, was not able to make contact and stumbled. His friends came to his rescue, propping him up. One MacDougall, a huge hulk of a fellow, stepped forward to enter the fray.
Angus would have none of it. Soon it would be a brawl. “Now, now,” he said, moving between the two men but speaking to the MacDougalls and mindful of the gathering crowd. “I am certain the Lord of Lorne would never suggest that his family is anything less than honorable. A promise made and dower lands given cannot be taken back without disgrace to the MacDougalls.”
“And who are you?” barked the MacDougall’s beefy friend. One of his companions, recognizing Angus, tugged on the man’s sleeve but to no avail.
“Angus Og Macdonald, brother to Lord Alexander Macdonald of Islay, Juliana’s husband.”
Hearing this, the MacDougalls hushed up their drunken friend and pulled him away.
Angus turned to the angry Isleman. “Let it pass. I will make sure Alex is aware. Tell your captain about this and remind him to post guards this night.”
The man nodded and headed to where Conall stood watching from the other side of the grass beneath the trees.
Angus shook his head. “So that is their game. Think of it. In the Highlands, where a man’s word is his bond, they do not intend to honor Juliana’s dowry. The lass will be sad to hear her family would dishonor her so and Alex will be furious. Should the MacDougalls carry through with such a despicable act, my father will have something to say as well. Steps will have to be taken.”
“Aye,” said Duncan. “And that will not end well.”
Once Angus had spoken to his brother who confirmed he intended to stay the night, Angus made sure guards would be posted to deal with any more drunken fools. Then he sailed to Morvern, anxious to be away.
The sun was hanging low in the sky as they entered the Sound of Mull that separated the Isle of Mull from Morvern. It was still hours before dark, yet Angus was tired from the long day and regretted the news he must give his father.
His mother met him and Duncan at the door to the castle on Ardtornish Point. Helen Macdonald, daughter of Sir Colin Campbell of Loch Awe, and younger than her husband by many years, was a handsome woman yet Angus could see her strength had been affected by whatever ailed his father. While her nut-brown hair lacked strands of gray, her face bore lines of worry, and the spark in her blue eyes had waned since he’d last seen her. “Mother,” he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, “how is Father?”
“He will be better now that you are here. Come, he sits by the fire, awaiting your news from Lorne.”
Angus crossed the large hall to his father while his mother put her arm around Duncan and welcomed him to their home.
“Father,” said Angus, taking the seat next to him. The two deerhounds lying next to his father rose and accepted a pat from Angus.
“Ah, you are home, Son. Well and good. And I see you bring my nephew. Greetings, Duncan.”
“And to you, Uncle,” said Duncan who came to stand behind Angus.
Meeting his father’s weary expression, Angus asked, “Are you unwell?”
“Brought low, more like, for Scotland’s affairs worsen.”
Angus pondered what he knew. “Is it the Guardians’ request to King Edward to mediate the claims of those who would be king that concerns you?”
His father gave Angus an impatient look. “Not the request, Son, but what England’s king demanded for his agreement to do so.”
“What was that?”
“He required each of the candidates for the crown to accept him as Scotland’s overlord, which, damn their eyes, they did, even Bruce.”
“That, I’d not heard. What can it mean?”
“It means that whoever is named king after what promises to be an unduly long process, will be bowing to Edward, who sees himself as no mere arbitrator but, rather, a judge.”
Angus’ heart sank. “Has it begun?…the ‘process’?”
