Page 41 of Bound By Honor
Angus laughed. “Not so lavishly as some might suppose. Besides, with all that comes responsibility—for the people and the land and all those galleys you speak of. This year, the burden of it has grown heavy. And I am not a Macdonald lord, nor the heir, merely a Macdonald son.”
“At Finlaggan, that places you high in the chiefs’ eyes. By the bye, where is your younger brother?”
“With his friends and likely flirting with some lass.” Angus scanned those gathered beneath the afternoon sun. He did not see his brother among the girls dressed in their finery. “I have known most of these since they were wee lasses.”
“Aye, but look closely, Cousin. They are no longerweelasses, are they?”
To Angus, they all looked like versions of Sorcha and he had vowed never again to dally in that direction. “They are young. Aside from that, I have yet to meet a woman I would want for my wife.”
“There is time, Cousin. You are only twenty, as am I. With things so uncertain in Scotland, mayhap ’tis not the best time for either of us to wed.”
“Aye. Given what the seer told us, this gathering has the feel of a last feast before Lent.”
Duncan laughed. “You are still thinking of Mackay’s message?”
“That and what will come from King Edward’s court at Berwick.”
“Well, we can do nothing about either at the moment. By the by, how did my uncle react when you told him of the seer’s vision?”
“He appeared unsurprised but downcast all the same. He interpreted the unsteady scepter as a Balliol kingship. As for war between the clans, he hates the idea, as do we all. If the foreign king is Edward, his cruelty is well known as shown in his treatment of the Welsh. My father said nothing about the death of two chiefs and wondered at the mention of a new king.” Angus paused and looked around for his father. Not seeing him, he continued, “I know he has not slept well since I brought him the seer’s words but then he rarely does when the future looks ominous. The lordship’s fate is closely tied to that of Scotland.”
That evening, the chiefs and their families dined in the great hall on Eilean Mor. Lit by a hearth fire and a multitude of candles, the hall’s tapestries, some made long ago, depicting birds and wild creatures on Islay, drew Angus’ gaze to the walls. There was history in this place, a history his family had shared for generations. With God’s grace it would continue for more.
Musicians played in one corner, their lyre and harp a soft sound against the many conversations.
Angus found his seat at the head table between his mother and John. On his father’s other side were Alex and Juliana. A sumptuous feast of salmon roasted in wine and spices, thick slices of roast beef and pork pies with leeks and coriander was set before them.
The barnacle geese that had begun to arrive on the isle in great numbers also found a place among the dishes served. Rubbed with spices and roasted slowly, they were delicious. Vegetables, fresh from Islay’s gardens, as well as breads and cheeses adorned every table. In addition to ale, there was mead and wine to satisfy each noble’s preference.
Seeing Duncan sitting nearby at one of the long tables, he remembered Duncan’s description of the lordship and smiled. Admittedly, they did dine lavishly when the Council met.
Angus glanced across his mother and father to Juliana, who glowed with happiness. Leaning toward his mother, dressed in a cinnamon-colored tunic with jewels at her neck, he said, “How was Alex’s bride received by the women?”
“Well, I think. All remarked on her bairn’s sweet face and smiled when they heard his name. Juliana was gracious. When asked what she would do if her MacDougall kin came to blows with her new Macdonald family, she answered well.”
“I suppose ’twas inevitable they would ask. What did she say?”
His mother smiled, telling Angus she approved of Juliana’s answer. “Fortunately, she did not mention the contention over Lismore, which has still to be resolved. Rather, she said that when she consented to become Alexander’s wife, she placed her heart and her loyalties with him and his family. Then, in a most certain manner, she announced that both she and her children will be Macdonalds.”
“No one could fault her for that,” said Angus.
His mother smiled. “None did.”
Angus remembered that Alex had spoken the same words when he responded to Angus’ challenge of the decision to court Juliana. “’Tis good she and Alex are of one mind. Still, she will need our support, for her clan will give her none.”
“I have assured her she has it,” said Helen Macdonald. Angus reminded himself his mother was a strong woman who had challenged her husband when she thought it right to do so though he was the Lord of the Isles.
That night, peat fires burned long on the shores of Loch Finlaggan against a sky of muted colors left behind by the setting sun. The sound of the roosting geese could be heard along with the conversations of clansmen renewing old acquaintances. Angus listened from Eilean Mor, content the lordship was in good hands.
The next morning after breaking his fast, Angus trailed behind his father and Alex as they joined the chiefs to cross the causeway on foot to Eilean na Comhairle.
The day was fair and the wind slight, giving Angus hope this would be another fine day. As he walked along, his thoughts drifted to the future. Things would change for the Macdonalds and the Bruces if John Balliol became King of Scots. And not for the better. He was eager to hear what his father had to tell the chiefs.
Inside the Council chamber, Angus Mor took his place at the front of the room between Mark, the old Bishop of the Isles, who had been installed by King Alexander, and Fionnlagh, the gaunt, black-robed Abbot of Iona.
The Lord of the Isles then asked the bishop to lead them in prayer, which he did, asking God to guide their deliberations and give them wisdom in making decisions. The bishop ended his prayer with a line from the Psalms. “Lead us in the paths of righteousness for your name’s sake.”
The chiefs and men of rank took their seats around a square stone table. Angus found a bench next to the wall where he sat with Duncan and the other younger sons, who were invited to observe but not to speak. On the other side of the room, Donald Mackay, the old seer, sat half in shadow with his arms crossed over his chest.
