Page 27 of Bound By Honor
Angus nodded. “Then, mayhap our arrival will be welcome.”
“Aye, he is aware I come on a mission for my father, a matter of the church MacEanruig is most interested in.”
“Let’s hope they dine well. Bargaining can give a man an appetite.”
Duncan laughed. “So it does. And a great thirst!”
At the end of the road, they found no castle, only a large whitewashed manor flanked by cottages and what looked like stables on the far side. A garden of vegetables and herbs was thriving on one side of the manor.
When the few men standing outside learned their identity, Angus and his cousin were greeted with smiles and escorted inside. Angus asked his captain to keep the crew outside until they knew more of what lay ahead.
Inside, Angus looked around, admiring the clean hall and rushes. Though no hearth fire burned, the scent of wood smoke permeated the air. “Wait here,” their escort said.
Soon, they were greeted by a young woman in a green tunic, a bonnie lass with long curling copper-colored hair worn loose about her shoulders. Her eyes matched the green of her garment. The quality of her clothes suggested she was not a servant. Angus judged her age to be about seventeen.
She fingered her green and red plaid shawl, draped loosely over her arms. “You are welcome here, Angus Og Macdonald and Duncan MacAlasdair.” She gave Angus a penetrating look. “The Lord of the Isles’ galleys are well known to the people of Glen Coe since they frequently ply the waters of Loch Linnhe and those off the coasts of Morvern and Mull.” Then to both of them, she asked, “Why have you come?”
Duncan said, “I come on business for my father, Alasdair Macdonald of Saddell. Dugall MacEanruig should be expecting me. Is he about?”
“Nay, he is hunting with some of the men. He will return in time to roast meat for dinner, of that you may be certain. You’ll stay the night?”
They had little choice. With the long days of August, dinner could be late in coming if the men chose to hunt all day.
“Aye, said Duncan. “If that is an invitation, we accept.”
She returned him a coy smile. “’Tis.”
“And my crew?” Angus inquired.
“They can sleep in the stables or in the hall, as they choose. I will see you two have chambers in the manor. There will be room enough for all at dinner. I have asked the servants to bring you ale and see to your needs.” With that, she turned on her heels and crossed the large room, leaving through a door. Angus thought it might lead to the kitchens though, at the moment, there was no smell of cooking.
He puzzled at her odd behavior. “Did she give us her name?” he asked Duncan.
“Nay, I do not recall it. A woman of few words.” He smiled. “How rare.”
Or evasive, thought Angus.
A manservant brought them mugs of heather ale. “I’ll make sure your men are seen to and when I return, I will take you to your chambers.”
“Pardon,” interjected Angus, “but might I ask, who was the lass who was just speaking to us?”
“She be Sorcha MacEanruig, the chief man’s daughter, his only child.”
The servant walked away and Duncan said, “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The only child would speak with authority even though that child is a lass.”
“Aye,” said Angus, “but I wonder what happened to her mother. I cannot think of a Highland family where the chief man has only one child.”
“’Tis unusual. Most would have remarried to produce more.”
Once Angus and Duncan had been shown to their simple but well-appointed chambers where they left their satchels, they went outside. There, Angus found his crew happily imbibing the heathered ale, which was excellent. For the better part of an hour, he and Duncan sat around talking with the men of Glen Coe.
“We’ve some fine garron ponies if you have a mind to ride through the glen,” said one. “They are sure-footed through the hill passes where we keep our cattle at this time of year.”
“A grand idea,” agreed Angus, rising from the stone on which he was sitting. With Duncan and a few of their crew who wanted to go, and a Glen Coe man named Owen who knew the valley well, they rode along the River Coe through the wooded glen.
