Page 155 of Bound By Honor
I need you now as never before, Angus, and would have you at my side as I face the English horde. Come with your Islesmen in early June.
If God be with us, we will prevail.
Angus quickly drafted a letter in response.
To Robert, King of Scots, from his friend, Angus Og Macdonald, Lord of the Isles,
Trust me to come. I have been anticipating this day and preparing for a long while. Every man in the Isles and the lands you granted me in Lochaber and Argyll, who can wield a bow, sword, spear or axe, will be summoned.
The English may have greater numbers, but we have an honorable cause and a leader whose brilliance shines in battle. It is my honor to fight at your side.
My lady and I hold fast to this truth: God is able to deliver both you and Scotland.
In August, Angus called a meeting of the Council of the Isles at Finlaggan. He invited more than just the members of the Council; he invited all the chiefs and senior men and their families, as well as Alan, Bishop of the Isles.
For a fortnight, his wife and the other leading women worked hard to assure all was made ready to receive them in that ancient meeting place. The Council had not met since Angus was pronounced Lord of the Isles in the year Alex was murdered. All were keenly aware this next gathering would be significant.
Under sun-filled skies, tents crowded the banks of the loch and brightly colored banners waved in the summer breeze. On the large isle in the loch, the atmosphere was one of gaiety, as the families had come, expecting much feasting and entertainment with bards, dancers and contests. Yet a serious undertone permeated all. Given the uncertainty of the upcoming battle, it might be the last time some would gather here.
The Council and others invited crowded into the chamber on the smaller Council Isle in the loch. After the bishop prayed for them, asking for God’s guidance and blessing, Angus rose.
“We have been at war,” he told them. “Now we prepare for the battle that will decide Scotland’s fate. Fortunately, we have time. But then, so do the English.”
Angus knew every man whose face looked back at him in somber acceptance of this truth. Some he had known since he was a lad, others for more than a decade. In years past, he had visited them in their castles and strongholds. He knew their wives and children.
He began by explaining all that had happened: King Robert’s many successes; his strategy in taking the last remaining castles; and the challenge concerning Stirling, held apart as a great prize.
Then he told them of the battle they would face in the coming year.
“This will not be a battle of stealth or quick strikes from the woods. Nor will it be a battle waged from our galleys. This will be a pitched battle fought on an open field with mounted English knights and thousands of well-armed soldiers and archers.
“I have done what I can to prepare the Isles, adding fourteen hundred Irishmen to our ranks, providing galloglass to help train your warriors, assuring sufficient weapons for our armories and provisions for our castles and galleys to carry our fighting men across the sea.”
Heads nodded as they remembered Angus’ visits and those of his galloglass to ready an army for the Isles.
“We must continue as we have begun. I will prepare my own men as you must prepare yours. When you leave here, on every hill before every castle, prepare theCrann Tara, the fiery cross, ready to be lit when you see the signal fire closest to you. I will light the fire from Dunyvaig. Those on Jura will see it first.
“Watch for the fire in May of next year. When you see the flaming signal, light your own fire, sending the word north. Then sail quickly to me at Dunyvaig. We must reach King Robert in early June with provisions for a month.”
Angus’ voice rose with his next words.
“I am not asking for your heirs if you think it best they remain behind. I am asking for men who are free to fight—every man who can wield a bow, sword, spear or axe. This is the battle that will see our king reigns over a Scotland free of English oppression.” His voice nearly a shout, he ended, “We fight for King Robert Bruce and Scotland’s independence!”
The men jumped to their feet and a great roar rose into the air. Drawing his sword and holding it high, the silver-haired Malcolm Macleod shouted, “For King Robert and Scotland!”
The loud cheer was repeated again and again until the chamber walls reverberated with the sound.
Angus was the last to leave the Council building. Flanked by Duncan and John, he crossed the causeway to the larger isle where Áine waited, her expression anxious. “I heard the shouts. We all did.” She glanced first at Duncan and John and then at Angus, her brown eyes inquiring. “It went well?”
Excitement still thrummed in Angus’ chest. “Oh, aye. We are united as never before. Next May, I will light the fiery cross and they will come to Lagavulin Bay with thousands of men, including your Irishmen.”
Duncan winked at Áine, and John bid her good day as the two men walked ahead.
“Angus,” Áine said, as she took his arm and they proceeded forward, “Alexander is due to return to us next spring from his fostering.”
“Aye. I have not forgotten.”
“If he is here, he will want to go with you. He will be nearly fourteen and will consider himself a man.”
