Page 32 of Bound By Honor
Thousands brought from death and cavil,
They journey safe who with thee travel,
And you now safe with God!
Tears welled in Áine’s eyes. ’Twas a sad yet fitting tribute to a man who had been loved by his people but whose reign was cut short by a kinsman’s treachery. As for herself, the thought occurred,better for me, so much evil have I found, that I should have been a poor man’s wife.
Niall’s colored cloaks, his gold rings and all but the most loyal of his warriors were gone. In song, at least, the fallen King of Tirowen would be remembered. And he would live on in his son.
When the bard’s verses ended and the harp fell silent, her father patted her hand and leaned close. “I know it seems like the end of all things, Daughter. But, in truth, your life is just beginning.”
Áine wondered if that were so. She was young yet she had no desire for anything save to care for her son. It heartened her to think that young Brian O’Neill would have his grandfather and his uncle to guide him. Still, she had once hoped for so much more.
CHAPTER 6
Dunaverty Castle, Kintyre Peninsula, June 1292
FOR ANGUS, THE remaining months of 1291 passed swiftly. As autumn descended, bringing its cooler days and nights, the Macdonalds prepared for winter.
Typically, MacFinnon, the master of the Lord of the Isles’ household, would call upon their tenants on the scattered Isles to ensure their needs were met before rents were collected on Martinmas. Since MacFinnon was occupied with other business for Angus’ father and Alex was newly married, the task fell to Angus.
“’Tis time our people see more of you,” said his father as he issued the instructions.
That his father trusted him to meet with the tenants pleased Angus. Such a voyage would also give him a deeper understanding of their lands and the people who worked them. Some might need help with roofs or crops or slaughtering of cattle to feed them through the winter and Angus was eager to offer help if it were needed.
“Might I take John with me?” Angus knew his younger brother would be eager to accompany him.
“Aye, take the lad.”
By late October, Angus had completed the visits to their tenants and returned to Ardtornish to report his findings. He summarized the list by saying, “With the exception of the few cattle lost to sickness and one failed crop, the tenants are thriving and ready for the coming months.”
His father nodded. “You have done well and I can see young John was happy to be taken along.” John did, indeed, look happy. He had a talent for bringing joy to people with his pleasing demeanor and his questions that demonstrated his genuine interest in their lives.
The next day, with his father’s shouted Godspeed echoing off the waters of the Sound of Mull, Angus waved goodbye to his brother and sailed for Kintyre. In late November, he was joined by Duncan, who rode south from his home at Saddell Castle to spend the winter with Angus at Dunaverty.
On the rare days of little rain, they practiced their sword skills with the castle garrison. Or, since Angus kept a falconer and several hawks at Dunaverty, they might go hawking, a pastime both had enjoyed from their youth.
In deep autumn, when the bracken turned the hills golden brown, the wind stripped the branches of the trees, leaving a carpet of gold, red and yellow on the forest floor.
Storms rolled in from the sea, turning the waters of Dunaverty Bay the color of slate, and cold rain beat on the castle’s stone walls. Duncan and Angus, wrapped in their woolen cloaks, sought refuge before the fire where they read to each other from favorite books. When reading failed to hold Angus’ interest, he persuaded Duncan to join him in a game of chess.
“That’s two games you have had of me,” said Angus’ cousin.
“Then, mayhap you will find solace in some spiced wine, and we can discuss the reports I have just received from the hearings taking place in Berwick. It must have put to sleep those nobles assembled to listen to the auditors droning on about their research into the lineage of those seeking the crown.”
A total of fourteen claimants had stepped forward. Most were dismissed at an early stage. One of these was John Comyn of Badenoch, nicknamed “the Red” for his red coat of arms to distinguish him from his uncle, Alexander “the Black”. The Comyn’s dismissal caused Angus some little joy.
“The rejection of Comyn’s claim comes as no surprise,” said Duncan, “and, though you find it an occasion for joy, ’tis likely not much of a disappointment to him. Remember, he is married to a sister of John Balliol. If Balliol prevails, so do the Comyns.”
“Aye,” agreed Angus, his joy ebbing away, “a dismal thought. And the elimination of more contenders will soon leave Edward with a simple choice between Balliol and Bruce.”
Duncan nudged a log in the fireplace with the toe of his boot. “That may be but the hearings will drag on as all will want to be heard.”
“Edward is doubtless pleased with the delay, for it leaves him that much longer in control of Scotland.”
“That is the true outcome he desires,” said Duncan. “Now that he has Wales under his thumb, he has fixed his eyes on who becomes King of Scots, though with all the candidates swearing allegiance to him, that signifies little.”
His cousin spoke the truth. ’Twas clear to Angus the English king looked upon Scotland as a vassal kingdom. And while this saddened him, if he had to choose between King Balliol, aligned with the enemies of the Macdonalds, and King Edward, the choice just might be Edward.
