Page 98 of Bound By Honor
The lean, black-robed abbot stood before the altar, his back to the arched windows. His kind face was alight with pleasure at his task as he beckoned Áine and Angus to him. She took her place in front of the abbot on Angus’ left.
The abbot cleared his throat. “Angus, son of Angus Mor Macdonald, and Áine, daughter of Cumee O’Cahan, you have come before these who are gathered to affirm your commitment to each other and to make your sacred vows before God.”
Áine listened as the abbot began reciting the familiar vows they would repeat, simple words promising to love and honor. Words had been added. For Angus, the words were “to guard” and, for her, the words “to obey”. She was quick to repeat them and speak “I will” at the proper time. Angus’ eager acceptance of her as his wife made her smile.
Once their vows were spoken, Angus brought forth two rings from a small velvet pouch at his waist and gave them to the abbot, who blessed them and handed them back. Angus slipped a circle of gold carved with Celtic knots onto her finger. In the center was a round emerald. His own ring that he gave her to place on his finger was like it but without the stone.
Angus had told her that among the Iona monks were superb craftsmen in metal. Looking at her finger, she smiled for the ring’s design reminded her both of Ireland and the carved crosses on Iona.
Finally, the abbot prayed, asking God’s blessing upon their marriage and for their union to be fruitful.
Angus kissed her, whispering before their lips touched, “It will be.”
His lips were warm on hers, sealing their vows before God and their friends, promising a life together. Lifting his head, his blue eyes fixed her with a steady gaze before turning with her to greet their guests.
The first to rush toward them were the women who embraced Áine.
ANGUS TURNED TOWARD his companions though his heart’s desire was to escape with his bride to the bedchamber prepared for them. He had examined the chamber that morning before sending for Áine to assure all was ready.
“You are the envy of every man here,” said Duncan. “I expect you missed the groans from Malcolm Macleod and Gilchrist Macduffie when you announced you were to marry Lady Áine.”
“Mayhap I just ignored them.”
“Lady Áine is a golden vision,” said John, “like something out of a dream I never had.”
Duncan chuckled. “True for us both.”
Seeing Áine engulfed by the women, Angus decided it was time to reclaim his bride. The crowd parted as he strode toward her. Taking her hand, they were swept away on the tide of chiefs, their wives and their sons carrying them to the banquet set for them in the abbey.
At the head table, Angus and Áine were flanked by the abbot and the bishop with Juliana, Duncan, Dermot and John taking up the other seats. On the tables before them was a feast of venison, fish and roast fowl with vegetables from the monks’ gardens and hot loaves of bread, butter and honey.
The bishop looked out at the tables crowded with the leaders of the lordship and their families. “After so much grief, they needed a cause for joy.”
Pitchers of mead appeared on the tables. “The monks have contributed the mead made from Iona’s wildflower honey,” said the abbot.
The mead was of very high quality and sweet to the tongue. “’Tis very good,” said Angus. “Thank you for your generosity and my compliments to the monks who have made all this possible.”
The minstrels Angus had sent for from the Isle of Mull had arrived a few days before and were adding their lively music to the celebration.
Turning to his bride, he asked, “Are you happy, my love?”
Her brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. It is as if a cloud has lifted and the sun now shines full.”
Angus knew the cloud would not fully pass until the MacDougalls were dealt with and the war ended but he would enjoy this day for all it meant.
After a few hours of frivolity and many toasts, he took Áine’s hand and raised her from her chair. The music stopped. “It is not that we do not love you,” said Angus. “We do. But, as you can understand, my bride and I want to be alone. Enjoy yourselves for the day is young.” With that, he escorted her from the boisterous crowd.
BECAUSE THEY WERE in the abbey and leaders of the Church were present, while laughter and cheers followed their departure, there were no ribald jokes and no unseemly comments, for which Áine was grateful. Still, the eyes of all were upon them as they took their leave.
In their bedchamber, warmed by the fire, Áine’s gaze drifted to the crimson bed. The cover had been turned back, revealing fine white linen sheets. A sprig of yellow flowers lay upon each pillow.
Angus took off his sword belt and dagger and set them aside. Then he pulled his tunic over his head and kicked off his leather shoes.
Áine was suddenly nervous as she faced him, trying to keep her eyes fixed on his face. Her hands fidgeted in front of her as she looked down. “It has been years since—”
“For me as well,” he said, coming to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. In the firelight, his skin glowed. “There is nothing for it,” he said, removing his linen shirt, braies and hosen. “We must begin anew. Our only memories will be the ones we make tonight and hereafter.”
His mouth was soft and warm; hers was seeking and hungrier than she knew. His lips found the cool skin at her neck, lighting a flame as they descended to her bared shoulders. His beard tickled her skin, causing her to shiver.
