Page 28 of Bound By Honor
On either side of the road, soaring moor-clad hills and sheer rock faces rose high above them. The bracken was already turning a dark gold. From the slopes and ledges flowed magnificent waterfalls, long columns of white water thundering to the rocks below.
In one place, Angus paused to bat away swarming midges that had been vigorous in their attack. Hoping to avoid them, he stepped closer to the cool mist the waterfall spewed into the air. A red squirrel sitting on a nearby boulder eyed him as it nibbled on a nut.
“It fair takes my breath away,” said Duncan, looking up at the waterfall that began its descent hundreds of feet above them.
“The coast of Tirconnell in Ulster is a place that moved me to this same awe,” said Angus, “though Skye and Mull have some magnificent waterfalls.”
They rode on until their guide took a sharp left turn, leading them over a small bridge across the river. “You are in luck,” said Owen, “for we’ve not had much rain, else the path could be blocked by the swollen river. We’ll leave the ponies here and walk on.”
A short distance away, a herd of two score shaggy black cattle grazed lazily. “However do you get them up here?” asked Duncan.
“And why?” added Angus. The Macdonalds kept cattle but mostly on low-lying pastureland.
“We bring them up in the spring before the heavy rains. It takes a few of us to accomplish it. We keep them here in the summer where they are hidden from reivers. They do well on the poor pasture and, more importantly, they are out of sight of the MacDougalls.”
“The MacDougalls are a problem?” Angus asked.
“Aye, from time to time,” Owen answered with a shrug. “They consider all of northern Argyll theirs and we must remind them it is not.”
“Do you have help at such times?” Angus inquired.
Owen shot him a glance but gave no name. “There are those who aid us when we have need.”
The midges had become oppressive and Angus was glad when they returned to the ponies and began the journey back down the magnificent glen.
An hour later, they arrived at MacEanruig’s manor where a heavy mist had begun to settle on the hills.
The hunters, too, had returned. Dugall MacEanruig, with the same copper-colored hair of his daughter and a bushy brown beard, held his hand out in welcome. “I know your father, Angus, and yours, Duncan. Both are good men. I am pleased you have come on business of importance to me, but let us enjoy each other’s company tonight and leave the business until morning.”
“A welcome plan,” said Duncan.
Angus had no qualms about what MacEanruig proposed. His midge bites, gained in the glen, were starting to itch. Mayhap he could get a quick bath in the river before dinner and apply the salve his mother had given him.
“Did you enjoy your ride through the glen?” the chief asked.
“Aye,” said Angus, “there is no place quite like it.”
“We feel the same,” said MacEanruig, as he welcomed them into his hall.
The large room was filled with men and women gathered for the evening meal. To Angus, the people of Glen Coe seemed a happy lot. They might lack the wealth of the Macdonalds but they had enough to feed their families and care for their houses, horses, ponies and cattle, which was more than many had. And, above all that, they lived in a magnificent glen with waterfalls to delight a man’s eye.
“We’ve a good life here,” MacEanruig remarked as they dined later that evening in the hall lit with candles and flames in the fireplace. The day had been warm but now the air was cool and the fire welcome.
Duncan sat on the chief’s right and Angus on his left. Next to Angus was Sorcha MacEanruig, who chatted of her skill at embroidery and cooking. “Only when I want to, mind. We have cooks aplenty in Glen Coe.”
A musician playing a stringed instrument with a bow, different from the lyre Angus was used to, sent a beautiful, though sad, melody through the hall. When it ended, Sorcha rose and said, “A livelier tune for our guests, aye, Father?”
The MacEanruig nodded whereupon the girl went to a side table and lifted a hand drum of animal skin stretched over a circle of wood affixed with small bells. She motioned to a piper who had just entered. As he began to play, Sorcha danced, beating on the small drum with her hand, which caused the bells to make a sharp tinkling sound. All eyes were upon her as she twirled around the hall, her long copper hair catching the light of the fire.
When the music stopped, other dancers flooded the center of the hall, eager to take part.
Sorcha came to stand in front of Angus, beads of sweat on her brow. Reaching her hand toward him, she said, “You must dance!”
Angus glanced at Duncan.
“Do not worry about him,” she said. “He will have a partner.” Just then, another girl reached her hand toward Duncan. He took it, laughing in merriment as the girl dragged him away.
“Best go with them or they will not be satisfied,” said MacEanruig.
