Page 104 of Bound By Honor
“The Munroes,” began Lord Cumee, “so-named because they come from the innermost Roe-water in Derry. Almost all are redheads and fierce fighters. Next are the Roses of Kilraack, the Fearns, the Dingwalls, the MacBeths of the tribe of O’Neill, who are skilled physicians, the O’Docharties, the MacGees, associated with the O’Neills, the MacPhersons, the MacColms, and the O’Rourkes.”
Angus was pleased. More than that, he was overwhelmed. “I am pleased beyond measure,” he said to Lord Cumee. “You have given me men to fill my Isles, men to raise sons who will defend the lordship after them. In turn, I will give them land to call their own and training to be warriors for those who do not yet have those skills, for one must always be ready to defend one’s own.”
“They are eager and will serve you well.”
“Is there a bard among them?” asked Angus.
“I believe so, yes. A MacMhurich poet, as I recall. Have you a need?”
“We have our Scots bards but I would have one for Áine to grace my hall, one who is knowledgeable in the Irish poems, songs and history.”
Lord Cumee smiled. “My daughter will like that. You are wise.”
When the introductions were concluded, Angus stood on a rock to be heard by all and said in his loudest voice, “You honor my bride and me. Know that we are anxious to have you among us, and my chiefs are ready to welcome you to the Isles where you will have land and pride in your new life. My ships are at the coast at White Fields Beach to carry you to your new homes. Say your goodbyes today for we sail at noon tomorrow. If any have horses they wish to take, let me know and we will make provision for them. Hounds are welcome, too.”
During dinner at Dunseverick, Angus consulted with John, Duncan and Dermot on the list they had created for where the Irishmen would go. Some chiefs had made special requests for physicians, smiths, and carpenters. Others, faced with constant threats from the clan’s enemies, had requested trained soldiers. All these requests were accommodated with more left to be settled as Angus saw fit.
“As for me,” said Angus, “I would have fifty galloglass, if you can find them among the Irishmen. They will help train the others, for I intend to see them all made warriors, no matter they be farmers or smiths or fishermen when they come to us. Oh, and Lord Cumee assured me there would be a bard among them. The bard will live wherever Áine and I make our home so that his music and poems will fill our hall.”
That night, Angus wrote his friend, Rob, a letter that he would have delivered by a trusted messenger, letting the Earl of Carrick know all that had transpired, though he suspected word of Alexander’s murder at the hands of the MacDougalls was already widely known. As Angus came to the end of the letter, he wrote,
There is an English spy in your Council whose name I do not know. Be careful what you say of your plans for nothing is secret in those meetings that is not known to Edward.
CHAPTER 19
Dunaverty Castle, Kintyre Peninsula
IN THE MONTHS following their marriage, Áine sailed with Angus and his fleet, visiting the Isles, as he transported the Irishmen to their new homes. It was a joyful time, getting to see more of his Isles and meeting his people who were gracious to her. Seeing her own kinsmen pleased at the Isles that would become their home made her heart beat proudly.
Save for the ill effects of war that had inflicted deaths, burned dwellings, and damage to their churches, the people of the Isles were a happy, industrious lot, who took pride in their skills, their farms, their galleys and their families.
During this time, she observed a change in her new husband. Not in his love for her, which remained steadfast, but in the responsibility he accepted, as easily as an invitation to dinner, and his manner toward his men and the chiefs of the lordship.
He was more observant, more focused, more careful. Oft times, more intense. Where he must have once looked to his elder brother, he now looked to no man save himself. He sought advice from his constables, his cousin, Duncan, his younger brother, John, and, importantly, the chiefs, but always in the end, the decisions were his, the weight of them borne by him alone. She had married a man of consequence who was respected by all.
John, who still did work for King Edward, as a kind of exchequer, became Angus’ new confidante. This was particularly so when Duncan was at Saddell, which he now managed for his family. And sometimes Duncan was away on his own business. She had heard him tell Angus that he was pursuing one of the chiefs’ daughters. “I must secure one for myself while some are still unwed, else your Irish chiefs will have them all spoken for!”
Even when it came to dealing with King Edward, who now recognized Angus as the Admiral of the Western Isles, as he had once recognized Alexander, Angus drafted his requests for authority in carefully neutral, sometimes eloquent, terms. The authority Angus requested was always granted him.
Angus seemed to grow in stature, and Áine was not the only one to remark upon the change.
“He is like sharpened steel,” said his brother, John, to Duncan as they looked down upon the beach from the battlements where Angus was wielding his sword in practice with his guards. “Never have I seen him fight like this, so focused, so strong.”
“Aye,” said Duncan. “He worries for the future and is possessed with the need to be ready. The men sense it and admire him. Once, they followed Alexander. Now, they follow Angus, moving quickly to obey his orders.”
It seemed to Áine there were many orders, as if Angus felt the time was short for all he envisioned. In good weather and bad, he dispatched his galloglass to all the Isles to assess the fighting skills of the Irishmen he had placed in various parts of the kingdom and to teach them strategy and techniques. But it was not just the Irishmen who were to be trained, some of whom Angus told her had come to him already skilled. Angus had told the chiefs he intended to see all Islesmen trained for battle with sword, axe and bow, including men whose occupations did not often see them in battle. Farmers, keepers of cattle, fishermen, smiths, carpenters, masons, administrators and seneschals would learn the basic skills.
He had told her he sent one of his best galloglass warriors to Glen Coe to see that Iain MacDonald was trained. She respected his provision for his natural son, even in this.
Angus also sent messengers to their best smiths to enlist them in making the finest weapons—swords, axes, spears and daggers. Archers were to have a ready supply of arrows.
“We will not always fight for England’s king,” he told her. “One day, we will fight for our own, and we must be ready.”
She never asked him how he knew this or why his voice had an urgent tone to it. The look in his eyes and the set of his jaw spoke of its certainty.
In the spring of 1300, a year after their wedding, Áine gave birth to their first child, a son. They named him Alexander for the brother who had been so cruelly slain. “He has your dark hair and my blue eyes,” Angus said as he stared into the face of the bairn, “a mixture of us both.”
It amused Áine to see the powerful Lord of the Isles tenderly hold his young son, speaking to him as if he were already grown. Brian, listening to every word, sometimes gave his opinion and the two of them discussed the new addition to the family.
