Page 81 of Bound By Honor
The memory of Angus had not faded, but life had gone on as it always did, taken up with affairs in Ulster. The seasons brought planting and harvest, the tending of cattle and sheep and fishermen harvesting the bounty of the sea. While the effects of the famine remained in some places in Ireland, in O’Cahan territory there was enough food and good hunting for hare, deer and fox.
Dermot had quickly become a strong soldier and participated in the hunts when he was not with the O’Cahan guards on the practice field. Brian was now a handsome lad of six. Lir, his constant companion, was fully grown and huge in size. In the common things of life, Áine found contentment though her mind wandered often to the blue-eyed Macdonald whose kiss she remembered.
“Will Lord Angus be transporting the men back?” she asked the messenger.
“Yes, my lady. Though he could not say when, he believed it would be soon.”
Dunyvaig Castle, Isle of Islay, end of August 1297
ANGUS’ FLEET LAY beached on the sands of Lagavulin Bay, his Irish warriors enjoying the summer eve and a rest from their days taking turns at the oars after fighting the MacRuairis. All things considered, the outcome was a victory. They had lost but a few men and the wounded were recovering, the Macdonald physicians attending them.
Outside the castle, he stood with his brothers and Duncan, gazing into the flame-colored sky left behind after the sun deserted its post. A fledgling sea eagle, its brown and white plumage on display, soared through the sky just offshore.
While he was away, a letter had arrived from his friend, Rob. The news was sad, telling of Rob’s wife dying in childbed at the end of last year, though the girl child born to her had survived. “He has named her Marjorie after his mother,” he told his brothers and Duncan.
“Does he still fight with William Wallace and the rebels?” asked Alex.
“Aye, he does,” replied Angus. “They are now joined by Sir Andrew Moray, a powerful lord in the north of Scotland, and Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, cousin to both Wallace and Bruce, is with them.”
“Did the young Bruce say why he has left Edward?” inquired Alex.
Angus quoted from the letter, “I must join my own people and the nation in which I was born.” Angus stared into the sunset wondering how long it would be before the Macdonalds joined Robert Bruce in what would surely be a quest for the crown.
News had reached Angus’ brother, as Admiral of the Western Isles, of a disturbing development. “Now that King Edward has released the Comyns, including John, Earl of Buchan, and the two John Comyns of Badenoch,” said Alex, “I am told by my spies they are building two massive war galleys at Inverlochy Castle, aided by Alexander MacDougall, who Edward has also released from prison.”
“’Tis Edward’s policy to release his prisoners in exchange for their vows of fealty,” said Angus. “The Comyns and MacDougalls would take advantage.”
“And to build such galleys at the southern end of the Great Glen,” said Duncan, “will be a problem for us.”
Angus nodded. “We cannot allow them to set out to sea.”
“Aye,” said Alex, “’tis a challenge to our naval supremacy. They must be captured if possible. But there is more. Tormod Macleod sent word that Alexander MacDougall has gone on another rampage, attacking Skye and Lewis.”
Much as Angus wanted to be a part of the battles looming in the north, he had to return his loyal Irishmen home. Awaiting him there, he hoped, would be a winsome Irish lass who still remembered his face. He had seen hers and her beautiful brown eyes often enough in his dreams. “I must sail south.”
“Aye, Brother, I am aware and would not bid you stay.” Alex grinned. “’Tis the O’Cahan’s daughter I’m told has enchanted you.”
Duncan and John exchanged a knowing smile.
Angus heaved a shrug. “I suppose ’tis too late to deny it.”
“No need to worry,” said Alex. “Allow me the pleasure of seeing to the Comyn war galleys. If I cannot capture them, I will burn them to the waterline.”
“May I go with you?” John asked Alex. Angus was proud of his younger brother, now fully a man and a good fighter, who had proven himself in the battle to take down the MacRuairi chief.
“Aye, you may and welcome you are,” said Alex.
Thus, Angus and Duncan sailed south while Alex and John took the remainder of the fleet north.
Dunluce Castle, north coast of Ulster, September 1297
BEFORE HE LEFT Dunyvaig, news had reached Angus of the victory of William Wallace and Sir Andrew Moray at Stirling Bridge. Though vastly outnumbered, they had triumphed over the English forces led by John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey. This was the subject of the conversation as Angus sailed with his cousin to Ulster.
From where he stood at the mast, Duncan shouted over the wind, “They say that five thousand foot and a hundred cavalry perished beneath the Scots’ swords.”
Angus had no knowledge of how many Scots had died. He was desperate for news of his friend, Rob. All Angus knew was that Wallace lived and had been made the sole Guardian of Scotland.
On the wide beach west of Dunluce, the wind was fierce and the skies overhead threatened rain as Angus’ galleys disgorged their Irish warriors. They were full of tales of their mighty deeds and pleased to be home to tell them. Angus was anxious to see Áine but before he could set out for Dunseverick, he had to speak with Richard de Burgh.
