A Scottish-Irish flavour for
a tale set in 1036 AD ~ a great read!
"The next day Domnal, Leod and half a dozen men left
Bundalloch without telling me of their plans. A day and a half after that, a
huge Viking longship arrived, frightening the women. A tall, attractive man
stalked ashore as if he owned Bundalloch, and when I saw the gold circlet of
kingship at his brow I realised that he did indeed own it. I also knew that my
brother was in grave trouble.
The King of Alba’s self-confidence and the size of
his entourage initially unnerved me, but pride came to my rescue. My gown might
be plain, my apron spattered with milk and my hair tied back and unadorned, but
until Domnall married, I was the lady of Bundalloch and knew my duties.
Hurrying forward, I stuttered a welcome. He smiled, dispersed his men around
Bundalloch, and walked into the hearth-hall without waiting for an invitation.
Late in the afternoon of the fourth day I waited with
anxiety churning my stomach as my brother tore off his cap and strode toward
me. His brown curls flattened, his homely face reddened by rough weather, he
noted Bundalloch men loitering around the hall when they should have been at
work in the fields and barns. His frowning gaze came to me, and it was only then
that he noticed the stranger beside me.
His stride slowed and his frown deepened.
My hands gripped together beneath my breastbone as
I saw the storm clouds gather on my brother’s face. Then he took a quick
breath, bent his head and forced out a sentence of stilted politeness. “I trust
my sister has offered food and drink, Your Grace?”
My nails dug into my palms. Of course I had. Did he
think I was stupid?
“We heard you’ve been away on business,” the king
said in his surprisingly deep voice. “To do with cattle, I believe?”
My stomach turned over. Oh, Domnall! He had been raiding after all, and now he would suffer for
it.
Stiff as a pine, his fists clenched hard against
his thighs, my brother’s teeth showed briefly before he spoke. “The beasts
wander too far and must be brought back.”
The king raised mocking brows, but before he could
speak, the double doors burst open to admit a flood of sunlight and a vibrant
young man with dressed in dark leather. “You've been raiding, Domnall.” He
strode across the rough earthen floor in long strides. “We've seen the beasts and
watched you at work.” His men trailed through the open doors behind him.
“We've been working with the beasts for the last
couple of days,” Domnall said stiffly. “It's hard work, mac Enna.”
I knew the name. According to Leod, Hareth mac Enna
was the newly appointed Mormaer of Moray as well as the king's oldest friend.
Domnall, thirsty after a hard ride, beckoned a servant who held a tray bearing
several wooden beakers.
Mac Enna calmly intercepted the servant. With his
hand heavy on the man’s shoulder, he steered him toward his followers, then
turned mockingly to my brother. “They're not your beasts. We've checked the
markings, and they come from the western edge of Moray.”
Thirsty and furious in his own hearth-hall, Domnall
flushed with temper and embarrassment. I caught the eye of another servant, who
grasped an ale jug and a beaker from the table and hurried forward. Domnall
snatched both from him before they too vanished into other hands.
Domnall gulped ale, and wiped his moustache with
the back of one hand and shoved the jug back into the servant’s hands. “They're
our beasts, mac Enna.”
“We've had men watching the hill passes for days,”
Hareth countered. “We can tell to a head how many beasts you've stolen.”
“Count them all you like,” Domnall growled, “but
they're mine! Every man here will agree with me!”
A ripple of movement went through the Bundalloch
men. Well-muscled hill farmers who did not take insults lightly, the air around
them shimmered with dark glances and brewing violence. Someone snarled an
insult deep in his throat, at which Hareth's men closed the main door, and
stood in front of it with spears at the ready. Women caught hold of their
children and backed away into the dim recesses of the hall.
Domnall was trapped, unless he remembered the servants’
door. I checked over my shoulder. No guard stood before the small, unobtrusive
exit used by servants and children. I caught my brother's gaze and indicated his
escape route with a jerk of my head. His bright, angry gaze roamed past me, and
lingered on the forgotten exit. He emptied the contents of the mug down his
throat.
Hareth mac Enna pulled a scrap of fine leather from
his belt-purse, and dangled it at arm's length so Domnall could see the dark
squiggles and circles burned into the surface.
“We have a copy of the marks the Moray farmers use.
All we have to do is check this against the exhausted beasts you left in the
Glennan valley and we'll know for certain that you have stolen Moray cattle.
More than that, you left one of their men dead.”
It was worse than I feared. As the echo of the
words died away, Domnall spun on his heel, raced passed me to the rear of the
hall and vanished through the overlooked door. The men of Bundalloch met the
king's men chest to chest with a growling roar of aggression.
I dithered, unable to decide if I should run after
my brother or stay where I was, then started as a strong hand grasped my elbow.
The king yanked me to his side, his attention on the mêlée in front of him.
My teeth dug into my lip as Hareth’s troop
overpowered the hill-farmers. The encounter was short and sharp, and several Bundalloch
men sat and nursed sore heads. At least no one had chased Domnall, for which I
was thankful.
The king surveyed each dirty, unkempt Bundalloch
face in turn. “Your lord will be fined, and the animals returned to their
rightful owners. Some of you will help, and in doing so will avoid fines
yourselves. I tell you now,” he went on in the voice that was peculiarly his,
“thievery will not be tolerated under my rule. There are fish in the sea and
deer on the hills and birds in the air. Grain will be delivered to you from my
stores, if and when you need it. No man need starve, for the sake of a little
effort.”
Sullen, battered faces glared back at him. “If an
offence of this kind happens again, whatever the provocation, the penalty will
be death.”
My knees trembled beneath my long skirts. Still, I
comforted myself with the thought that he had not, so far, threatened my
brother. At that moment the king turned his head in my direction.
“Domnall of Bundalloch should come to us at
Inverness and pay his fine within the month of June. The Lady Eilidh will be
our hostage against his good behaviour and swift appearance.”
I gasped. Slowly at first, warmth swarmed into my
face.
“That's hardly fair on the lady.” Leod’s voice came
from the crowd.
“Life is rarely fair,” Finlay of Alba said. “When
the Lord Domnall pays his dues, the lady will be free to return home.”
