Page 169 of Bound By Honor
His friend paused and, with a pensive expression, said, “I have a request.”
“Anything.”
“I want you to thank Lady Áine for me. When you and your galloglass rushed onto the battlefield, I thought of her prayer that God would overflow our enemies like water breaking over a bank, giving us a great victory. Tell her it happened just that way.”
CHAPTER 29
Dunyvaig Castle, Isle of Islay, early July 1314
WEEKS BEFORE, FISHERMEN had brought Áine news of a great Scots victory near Stirling. She was elated to hear her prayers had been answered, but she had received no news of Angus or the Islesmen who had gone with him. Anxiety for his safety and that of her son, Brian, hovered above her like a dark cloud.
Each day, she and Juliana and Nessa watched for sails coming from the south, for the fleet would have to round Kintyre on their way home.
It was her eldest daughter, Finvola, ten years old, who sighted them first. “Mama! Sails!
They watched from the parapet as a great number of galleys came into view, their white sails billowing in the wind against the blue sky. Áine’s heart sped as she wondered if Angus would be leading them.
At the bottom of the stairs, she took her daughters by the hand. “Let us go meet the fleet!” She did not mention Angus to their daughters, for she did not yet know if he was among the returning warriors. Fand, her wolfhound, was old and rarely left the hearth these days, and Alexander’s wolfhound, Cormac, was in Ulster with his master, so there were no hounds trailing them as they left the castle with Nessa and her two boys.
They walked down to the bay and waited on the shore as the galleys drew closer. Her young son, John, now four, came to join them with his nurse. Others began to gather on the shore, eager to greet the returning Islesmen. Like Áine, there were women among them who were anxious to know if their husbands had survived.
Finally, the lead ship was close enough for Áine to see who was on deck. With a great sigh of relief, she spotted Angus standing in the prow, his sun-browned face smiling as his hair blew behind him. “Your father has returned. Thank God.”
The children jumped up and down with cries of happiness. They were aware their father had gone to fight with King Robert, but they knew nothing of war and its terrible consequences.
Even before the galley was beached, Angus jumped to the sand and ran to her, sweeping her into his arms and twirling her around. “A great victory is ours, my love!”
She held him tightly to her, comforted by his lean strength and his familiar scent of the sea. “Brian? Duncan? John?”
“All well.” Angus turned to look back at the ship and the men pouring over the gunwale. “Brian is just there with John, and Duncan remains with the king until next year.”
With her young sons in tow, Nessa hurried past them to Conall, who waved to her from the stern of Angus’ ship.
Áine released Angus to their children, and he stooped to gather them into his arms. She could see from his tears he had not been certain he would return.
Many happy reunions occurred that afternoon on the beach, but there were tears, too, for some did not return. “I sent the chiefs home to their isles,” said Angus, “to assure their loved ones they live. Gilchrist Macduffie was the only chief killed. His men bore his body home for burial.”
Áine was saddened to learn of it. “Such a kind man.”
“He was very brave at the end,” said Angus. “The story will long be told among us.”
Áine looked for Brian and found him with some of the Irishmen who lived on Islay. Handsome at twenty-three, he received a warm welcome from the women. “Did Brian do well?” she asked Angus.
“Oh, aye. He was with Sir Edward who received the worst of the English attacks. I am very proud of him that he wanted to fight in that schiltron.”
She gazed into Angus’ blue eyes. How she had missed him. “Thank you for bringing him home.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Come, my love, let us go to the castle and I will tell you more.”
For the rest of the summer, Áine knew only happiness. August brought their eldest son home from Ireland. Around the fire at night, with his wolfhound, Cormac, at his feet, Alexander recounted many stories of his fostering with the O’Neills. Brian often interjected his own memories of life in Ulster. Alexander wanted to hear of the battle his father and half-brother fought near Stirling with King Robert. Though there was regret in his eyes for having missed so great a battle, Áine believed they had made the correct decision in delaying his return from Ireland.
At the beginning of autumn, Angus decided it was time to retake Dunaverty. He left Islay with a fleet of warriors who had fought valiantly at the battle now called Bannockburn. The English garrison must have fled at the sight of so many Scots determined to take what was theirs, for Angus returned in a fortnight with happy news.
“Dunaverty is ours again,” he said. “It will need some repair and application of our servants’ cleaning for it smells like a soldiers’ barracks.”
Áine could see from his expression how much it meant to have his favorite castle back in his hands. “It has been eight years since we lived at Dunaverty. Would you call it home again?”
“I asked myself the same question as we sailed to Islay. I do not think so. Islay is home now. You do not mind?”
