by Fiona Faris
“How do ye ken it was no’ him that took ye and then made as if he had rescued ye though he had no’?”
“The voice was no’ his.”
“He could have had another man take ye.”
“He would no’ do that.”
“How do ye ken what he would or would no’ do? Ye dinnae ken the man.”
Marra did not know what to say that would convince Diana that Duncan was an honorable man. In fact, Diana was so sure of her accusations against the Campbells that Marra was beginning to have doubts of her own. She knew it was not fair of her to waver in her convictions, but it was next to impossible to ignore the heart broken certainty she saw in Diana’s eyes. It could no’ have been his clansmen, could it? Before she had met Duncan, she would not have hesitated to believe them guilty, but now…
“Where were all o’ ye before when I came?”
“Those o’ us who survived the attack on the castle spent the night at my brother’s croft. We will do so again this night, and ye can share a pallet with me.”
“I verra much doubt yer brother has enough room or food tae maintain what remains o’ the clan for verra long.”
“Nae, he does no’, but we will do what we must. We will rebuild from the ashes with ye as our lady. Yer faither was brokering a marriage for ye afore he died. I dinnae ken the man, but ye should be aware that it is likely ye will be expected tae wed and soon. Perhaps yer future husband’s people will be able tae offer us aid.”
“I have nae desire tae wed a man I have no’ met nor heard o’ until now. How can ye speak o’ such things as we stand o’er the burned bodies o’ our dead? I will no’ hear another word about it, Diana. Duncan’s people have offered tae take us in, and yet ye accuse him o’ this terrible deed. Ian has taken it upon himself tae act as laird, summoning our kinsmen from afar tae avenge my faither, only ye have sent them tae the wrong enemy. It was no’ his place tae call for justice. He is no’ the laird. As yer lady, I demand that envoys be sent immediately tae call off any further attacks until we have ascertained who is truly responsible.” Turning to Liam and Robert, she instructed them to see to it.
“Ye may be our lady, but ye are merely a lass. Our people need a laird tae lead them, no’ ye,” Ian challenged her.
“Until then ye will show me the proper respect due a lady o’ my station. I will no’ stand by and allow the slaughter o’ innocent men, women, and children. We will discover the truth before we take any further action.”
Liam and Robert moved to flank her left and right. As her cousins they were bound by honor and blood to protect and defend her even against her own people. Moving to stand beside her showed that they would enforce her bidding, and anyone who did not fall into line would answer to them. “Perhaps it would be best to send someone else tae call off the attack. I dinnae believe it tae be wise tae leave ye unguarded, lass,” Liam spoke, eyeing the men gathered around Ian.
“Nae, ye are the only ones I trust tae do as I ask.”
The brothers nodded and walked down to the boats. Grumblings of discontent swept through the group. Marra moved toward her father’s burnt corpse and knelt down beside him. She had had enough of clan politics for one day. It felt crass and unfeeling to be discussing such matters over the bodies of their fallen loved ones. She did not blame her people for making the choices they had made in her absence with the blood of their kinsmen crying out to be avenged from the ground beneath their feet. Her own father’s voice echoed through her mind. The last thing she had done was deceive him by going to meet Duncan without her father’s permission. She thought of the night before she had left, his kiss upon her forehead, so out of character, and felt guilt for her rebellious heart ever longing to be free from his rule; and now she was, in the most permanent way possible. This is no’ what I wanted when I wished for freedom. Tears streamed down her face as she covered his body with her arisaid.
She attempted to move him, but could not do so without rending his flesh. Sobbing in horror and grief, she pulled out her sgian dubh and started tearing at the charred soil. The miniature size of the blade did very little damage to the hard packed surface, but as she violently stabbed her blade repeatedly into the dirt, she poured all of her pain and uncertainty into the action. “Marra, lass,” Diana moved to take the knife from her hand and held her sobbing frame in empathy. Two of her fellow clansmen came forward to lift their laird’s body from the ashes. The sound of ripping flesh, followed by a noxious odor filled the air causing the men to drop the corpse and back away. A nearby clanswoman vomited from the smell.
“We cannae move the body without rending it asunder. He must be buried where he lies,” Marra informed them, pushing away from Diana and taking her sgian dubh back. She began digging once more, and Diana looked to her brother for help.
Ian moved forward grabbing a mattock from one of the other men. “Here, lass. Let me.”
Marra stood and allowed him to break up the soil. As the metal pierced the blackened earth it was as if each fall of the pick pierced her heart instead. Other clansmen and women began digging graves for the rest of the dead. It took some time, but they were eventually able to dig shallow graves for each of them. Once the bodies were in the ground, they used the stone debris from the castle to place over the graves. It took the entirety of the day to complete the task. As night fell, they said a prayer for the dead. As there were no clergy present they were unable to do much more than that.
“I will arrange for the consecration o’ the ground at the earliest opportunity,” Marra promised her people.
Ian nodded in acknowledgment. “Ye are welcome tae stay with my family and I.”
“I thank ye for yer offer o’ hospitality, Ian, and I accept, but we will need tae make other arrangements for the future. What remained o’ the winter stores and spring garden were destroyed in the fire. Ye cannae be expected tae feed everyone on yer own meager stores for verra long.”
“We will find a way, lass.”
Marra followed Diana to Ian’s croft. Ian’s wife had prepared pottage, and they all ate, then lay down for the night. Marra slept with Diana upon a pallet on the floor. It was cramped, but they made do as best they could. As she lay there attempting to go to sleep, she listened to the various sounds of the night, her people breathing, the fire crackling, an owl calling out in the distance. She thought of the nights she had spent in Duncan’s arms and wished it were he that lay beside her now. She had secretly hoped that he would return for her after warning his father of the coming danger of an attack, but he had not. Part of her knew that it was for the best, given Ian’s threats of murder were any of the Campbells to return, but she could not help how she felt. Her heart longed to feel the comfort of his arms once more.
Diana’s accusations against the Campbells rang through her mind as images of her father’s burnt corpse passed behind her eyelids. She knew that even if she lived to be old and grey, the gruesome image would never leave her. The memory of the sound and smell of rending flesh crossed her senses, causing her to retch in her mouth, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give in to the sensations that wreaked havoc upon her person. The pain of her loss nearly consumed her. Exhausted from crying, she eventually drifted off to sleep.
Marra awakened from dreams of her family being attacked, their screams of agony crying out from the inferno of the burning castle. Light filtered in from the cracks around the edges of the door, and she knew it must be morning. The sounds of people breathing, moaning, and snoring had ceased, so she assumed that most of her clansmen had departed the croft. She turned her face to find Diana still asleep beside her, but noted that the croft was otherwise empty. Feeling something hot and wet beneath her cheek she reached up to brush it away. Her hand came away soaked in blood. She reached up to check her head wound with the other hand and came away clean and dry. Fear gripped her as she realized that the blood came from Diana. “Diana? Diana!” She shook her maid in an attempt to wake her, but was unsuccessful. “Diana!”
Bl
ood oozed from Diana’s ear, dripping down the swollen purple bruise that covered the side of her face and disappearing into her hair. Marra knew her maid had been knocked unconscious during the attack, but she had not realized how severe the wound had been. Rising, Marra rushed to the door and flung it open. She scanned the surrounding area for any signs of life and found Ian’s wife, Rebecca, tending to their animals. “Rebecca,” Marra called out.
Rebecca looked up and raised her hand in acknowledgement of Marra’s presence. “Good morn, My Lady.”
“Rebecca, it is Diana. Something is verra wrong. She is bleeding, and I cannae wake her.”
Rebecca set down the bucket of water and ran to the croft. She and Marra entered the croft together moving to Diana’s side upon the pallet. “This is no’ good,” Rebecca remarked, noting the blood dripping from Diana’s ear. “She needs a healer, but ours died in the attack. I dinnae possess the skills necessary tae care for her properly.”
“The nearest healer is the Campbell’s. We need tae get her tae them.”
Rebecca looked at her in horrified surprise. “Ye cannae take her tae our enemies after everythin’ they have done, slaughtering our people!”
“It was no’ they who attacked us, and even if they had, we dinnae have any choice if we wish for her tae live. I dinnae ken how tae treat such a wound. She is the closest thing tae a maither I have e’er had, and I will no’ let her die, nae matter what it takes tae heal her.”
“Ian will no’ allow it.”
“He does no’ have a choice. Where is Ian?”
“He went to the castle tae help the others. There is much tae be done if we wish tae rebuild.”
“Do ye have a cart or wagon?”
“Ian took the cart with him tae the castle.”
“Stay here with her while I find a way tae get her tae the boats.”
Marra left the croft and raced for the castle grounds, hoping to find Ian or someone else that would have a cart or wagon to carry Diana to the boats. When she arrived at the castle, instead of finding her people working in an attempt to salvage whatever could be saved, she found the men standing face to face against Duncan and a group of Campbell warriors.
Chapter Twelve
Duncan faced off in front of Ian MacDonald. He had come to help Marra and to see to her protection, knowing that he did so under threat of his own life. He had brought enough men to deter a battle between the few men that remained on Jura and his own, but that had not stopped them from being greeted with hostility. Duncan hoped that by turning up in numbers sufficient to defeat the remaining survivors and yet choosing not to, he would gain their trust and prove to them that it had not been his people who had attacked them.
“Ye are no’ welcome here, Campbell,” Ian growled, weapon in hand. “I warned ye that if ye returned I would kill ye.”
“And I told ye that we are no’ the ones who did this tae ye. I will no’ abandon Marra when there is no’ enough o’ ye tae defend against another attack. She was taken, and we dinnae ken who took her or if they will return for her once more. Do ye honestly believe that ye are strong enough tae defend her against another attack? Were I tae simply raise my hand, my men could end ye all where ye stand, but I dinnae and I will nae. Is that no’ proof enough that it was no’ my people who attacked ye?”
Ian stood thinking about his words for a moment. Duncan could tell that he was considering the truth of it. “My sister saw the Campbell tartan.”
“We dinnae wear the Campbell tartan.”
The MacDonald men stood there uncertain as to what to do when Marra came bursting from the trees. “Ian, I need yer cart! It is Diana! She needs a healer now!”
Ian turned and met Marra as she crossed the open space. “What has happened?”
“It is the blow tae Diana’s head. She has blood comin’ out o’ her ears, and I dinnae ken how tae help her. She needs a healer.”
“Our healer is dead.”
“But the Campbell healer is no’.”
“I will no’ leave my sister in the hands o’ our enemies,” he protested vehemently, shaking his head.
“If we dinnae take her to their healer, she will die,” Marra insisted, begging him to yield.
“Have the healer come here,” he stubbornly insisted.
“There is no’ time tae wait for a message tae be sent and then wait for the healer tae arrive. She would no’ get here until the morrow, and by then Diana could be dead. Standin’ here arguin’ with ye is wastin’ time.”
Duncan moved forward in concern. “Ian, I swear tae ye that we did no’ do this thing. Please, let our healer care for yer sister.”
Ian looked from Marra to Duncan and then back again. Sighing, he nodded. “My cart is o’er on the other side o’ the castle.”
“I will need yer help tae load her in the cart. I cannae carry her on my own.” Marra ran for the cart with Ian and Duncan close behind.
Marra took the reins of the horse, leading the cart, but Ian grabbed them away from her. “I will go and get Diana and bring her here. Ye ready the boats and explain tae our people what has happened. I will no’ be sendin’ my sister alone with the lot o’ ye Campbells. I will be goin’ with ye.”
“Everyone that wishes tae claim our protection may join us as well,” Duncan offered, wrapping his arm around Marra’s waist. She was trembling and very near tears. Ian nodded and walked away with the horse and cart. Duncan pulled Marra against him. “Do ye need a moment before we face yer people?” he asked, concerned for her emotional wellbeing.
Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and turned to face the waiting crowd. Duncan admired her for her strength and fortitude under hardship. She spoke with her people explaining the situation and offering each of them safe haven at Duncan’s family stronghold. Some of the people promised that they would consider accepting the offer, while others refused outright, but Duncan made sure that they all knew sanctuary was open to any of the island’s surviving occupants. He knew all too well how unorthodox it was to offer aid to an enemy clan, but in his heart he no longer felt that they were his enemies. Many within both the Clan MacDonald and the Clan MacGregor would have disagreed with him, but he hoped for Marra’s sake to mend the rift between their people and bring about an end to the feud.
When Ian returned with Diana and his wife in tow, they loaded her unconscious body into one of the boats and shoved off. The men rowed as quickly as they could, attempting to reach the opposite shore before it was too late. Marra held Diana’s head in her lap, holding a cloth to her ear in an effort to staunch the flow of blood. Duncan poured every bit of strength he had into the oars. His eyes never leaving Marra’s face as the boat carried them across the water. Her beautiful green eyes were filled with tears as she whispered words of encouragement to her wounded maid. “Hold on, Diana. Just hold on.”
When they finally reached the shore, Ian lifted his sister up out of the boat. Duncan’s men had left horses tied up on the shore guarded by two of their warriors. He had brought a few extras in case he persuaded some of the people to join them. Duncan climbed out of the boat, offering Marra his hand so that she might safely disembark, then he walked up the bank to offer Ian his strongest highland pony. “She will carry ye both safely,” he promised. He held Diana in his arms while Ian mounted then handed her back to her brother. Duncan took Marra with him on one of the other horses, and they all headed for the MacGregor keep.
Upon their arrival, Duncan led them straight to the healer’s croft. The healer took one look at Diana’s wound and began barking orders, putting Ian and his wife Rebecca to work immediately. Duncan could tell that Marra did not wish to leave her maid’s side, but he also knew that there was nothing she could do to be of help. “It will take some time, lass, afore she will awaken. It is best if we give Idonea the room she needs tae work. She will send word to the keep as soon she can. Until then, ye should allow yerself sometime tae rest. I will need tae find housing for when yer people arrive.”
“I c
an help with that,” Marra offered, turning her eyes from Diana to look up at Duncan.
“Aye, I would be glad of the assistance.”
Together they went on to the castle. Marra repeatedly looked over her shoulder as if she could heal Diana simply by the act of keeping her within sight. He loved her caring, compassionate spirit and was sorely tempted to tell her so, but thought better of it, given the recent tragedies she had endured. What she needed now was protection from her enemies, not the fawning of a besotted suitor. Having her in front of him on his horse, her body moving against his with every step, nearly drove him mad with desire. He felt guilty for having such thoughts while she was in a state of mourning, but his body refused to listen to the chastisements of his heart and mind. He pulled her close against him as if his nearness could somehow shield her from all the pain and suffering she had endured.
It bothered him that they still had no idea who had taken her or who had attacked her people. He wanted to swear to her that he would avenge her if it were the last thing he ever did, but his father had made it clear that under no circumstances would the MacGregors be going into battle on behalf of the MacDonalds, unless the keep itself was under attack. Though the laird had been willing to bend by taking in the remaining survivors of Jura, he had not been willing to risk the lives of his men. Duncan hoped that the envoys he had sent to the other MacDonald chieftains had been met with success, and not violence. Marra had shared with him that she too had sent envoys to withdraw the plea for vengeance on behalf of her people. Duncan could only pray that they made it in time.
* * *
Marra was frightened and overwhelmed by the events of the past several days. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop trembling. With every moment that passed, the harder it was to hold back the tears. The warmth of Duncan’s arms around her as they rode toward the castle offered some reassurance, but it could not completely erase her fears. As if he had read her thoughts, Duncan wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her to his chest as he steered the brown highland pony toward the stables. Marra buried her face in his shirt and breathed deeply, attempting to calm her inner storm. She felt that if she were not able to erase the horrifying images of the past days from her mind, she would go mad. As she attempted to slow her breathing, she noticed that the ties on his shirt had come loose exposing the muscled skin beneath. She laid her cheek there unable to resist the temptation of feeling his skin upon her own once more.
