The Striker

by Monica McCarty

  “And for churchmen,” Eoin said dryly. “Wonder where she gets it?”

  Margaret put her hand on her swelling stomach. Their third child would be born in the summer. If it was a boy, Margaret was threatening to name him after Viper, whom for some God-only-knew reason she’d taken a liking to. “Perhaps you will be luckier with the next, and Eachann will find some new competition.”

  He gave her a hard glare. “He only beat me one time. I told you it was an aberration.”

  Their eyes met and they both started to laugh. It hadn’t been an aberration. Eachann was almost eerily bright. A problem solver, Eoin called him. He was convinced the lad would invent something great one day. “It’s a boring child’s game anyway,” he said. “Or so I’ve been told.”

  She laughed, took their daughter from his arms, and set her back down on the box bed that had been provided for her. “Come,” she said. “Marsaili will watch over her.”

  “Like she watched over you?” Eoin lifted his eyes. “God help me.”

  He rubbed his upper arm when a fist socked him. “Ouch!” he said. “That hurt.”

  “Good,” she replied primly. “But as one of Bruce’s fabled warriors, I would think you would be a little tougher.”

  “Didn’t you hear? The war is over. Now I’m just the keeper of a royal castle at Sael.”

  She made a sharp scoffing sound. “And tánaiste of the MacLeans.” His father had made it official a few months ago. Eoin knew how unusual it was for a third son to be named as heir and had been honored. “Besides,” she added shrewdly. “I saw you huddled with Erik and Lachlan earlier. You don’t fool me. I know you’re up to something. And I’ll have it out of you later.”

  He lifted a very intrigued brow. “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “I have my ways,” she said smugly.

  She sure as hell did, and he couldn’t wait till tonight when she inevitably brought him to his knees. So many things had changed between them, but the passion burned just as hot as it had all those years ago. Hell, thinking about how he’d woken to the feeling of her bottom pressing against him insistently this morning, maybe even hotter.

  He followed her down the stairs, through the Hall, and out into the courtyard.

  “I thought we could walk,” she said.

  He nodded, and they started toward the gate. He looked over his shoulder, and she must have sensed his thoughts.

  “They’ll be fine,” she said. “Duncan will take good care of them while we are gone.” He must have made a face, and she shook her head. “Don’t forget, we are all one big happy family now.”

  Although Margaret’s brother had made his peace with Bruce after the end of the war and been made keeper of Garthland Castle in return, Eoin being the guest of his former enemy still took some getting used to. But he knew how important it was to Margaret to be here, especially after the death of her eldest brother in battle last year. Her father still stubbornly refused to accept Bruce and was fighting in Ireland.

  “How can I forget? You’ve reminded me every day for the past six months to try to get me to agree to come here.”

  She squeezed his hand, suddenly serious. “Thank you. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I wanted to do something.”

  A short while later when they arrived at the loch he discovered what she meant. He turned to her in surprise. “You did all this?”

  She nodded, her eyes roaming his face uncertainly as she tried to gauge his reaction. He was stunned, and then incredibly moved by what she’d put together.

  His brethren stood along the edge of the water, flanking two men in the center. The first wore a crown, and the second a bishop’s mitre: King Robert the Bruce and the most important churchman in the country (and Bruce’s longtime ally), William Lamberton, the Bishop of St. Andrews. Behind them, the calm waters of the loch were filled not with the red that he’d seen last time he’d been here, but tiny white flowers. Snowdrops, or as they were known due to their use at Candlemas, Our Lady’s Bells.

  “There must be thousands of them,” he said aloud.

  Margaret shook her head. “Seven hundred eighty-four. I counted every one.”

  Their eyes locked in shared understanding. His throat tightened at the significance. Each flower represented a man who’d died as a result of the failed mission at Loch Ryan eight years ago today.

  “It’s time, Eoin,” she pleaded. “It’s time to let them rest in peace.”

  He nodded. She was right. It was time to say a prayer for the men who’d died here, and let go of the ghosts of the past—all of them. He would never forget what had happened here, but he’d forgiven Maggie, maybe now it was time to try to forgive himself.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice tight. He squeezed her hand, fighting back emotion. “I love you.”

  She gave him one of those smiles that rivaled the sun. “And don’t you forget it.”

  He never would. With a nod, Eoin let his wife take his hand and lead him forward where his friends waited to help him bury the past forever.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  THE CHARACTER OF Eoin is loosely based on John Dubh MacLean, who was the third son of either Gilliemore or Malcolm MacLean and the grandson (or great-grandson) of the famous Gillian of the Battle Axe, who is considered the first chief of Clan MacLean.

  John Dubh (Black John) fought with his father and two brothers for Bruce. His mother, Rignach, was said to be a relation of Bruce’s. One theory—and the one that made the most sense to me—was that she was a daughter of Neil of Carrick, and thus a half sister to Bruce’s mother, Marjory.

  The MacLeans were shown favor by Bruce after the war for their loyalty, with John Dubh being named keeper of the royal castle of “Sael” (Seil Isle?), his brother Donald named as commander of the king’s galleys, and his brother Neil also named keeper of a royal castle, this one probably Tarbert. Unusually, however, despite having two older brothers, John Dubh is named chief when his father dies. No explanation is given, but the idea for my brilliant strategist was born.

  John Dubh’s two sons, Hector (Eachann Reaganach or Hector the Stern) and Lachlan (Lachainn Lubanach or Lachlan the Cunning/Wily), are the famous progenitors of the two branches of MacLeans/Maclaines. As readers of my Highlander Unchained might remember, they will also cause endless name confusion—a recurring problem for me—by providing the first name for countless generations of chiefs. It will be over three hundred years after John Dubh before the Duart MacLeans have a chief who is not named Hector or Lachlan.

  John Dubh is said to have designated his lands of Lochbuie for Hector, and Duart for Lachlan. The MacLeans grow further in importance when Lachlan marries a daughter of John MacDonald, the first Lord of the Isles. Hector, interestingly, marries Christina, a daughter of the MacLeod of Harris. Those of you who have read The Chief might be smiling right now; I know I couldn’t help but wonder whether this Christina was a descendant of Tor and Christina. I love when fact and fiction serendipitously intertwine like that.

  As with most of the books, I take a lot of inspiration from genealogical charts. There is always tons of great fodder in the notes. Although citations are sometimes thin, and there are usually discrepancies, it’s often the place I find information that I can’t find elsewhere. Case in point was when I was trying to figure out where the MacLean lands were before the war (after they are associated with the Isles of Mull, Tiree, Coll, and Morvern and Lochbuie on the mainland). They were generally thought to have been from Lorn, as vassals of the Lord of Argyll, but it wasn’t until I came across a genealogical record for “Eoin Dubh Mac Gilliemore” (John Dubh) that I found a reference to Gylen Castle on the Isle of Kerrera as the place of his birth. Since Gylen Castle was a MacDougall castle, this seemed to fit.

  This same record also provided the inspiration for the character of Fin, as the notes refer to an attempt by the MacKinnons (formerly MacFinnons) to kill John Dubh’s sons, making the clans, not surprisingly, hardened enemies.

  Finally,
a few genealogical charts had Eoin possibly married to a Comyn, providing my inspiration for the wife who is the daughter of the enemy.

  The character of Margaret MacDowell is fictional, but Dugald/Duegald MacDowell/MacDowall/Macdowyl/Macdouall/Macdougall (these are just a few of the many ways his name is spelled) is said to have had eight sons. As is usually the case, there is no mention of whether he had any daughters.

  MacDowells claim descent from original Gaels who came from northern Ireland to Galloway in the eighth or ninth century, and recent DNA studies seem to support this (www.scottishorigenes.com/content/medieval-ethnicity-map-scotland). Like their Balliol and Comyn kinsmen, they were blood enemies of Bruce. And like the MacDougalls, who were also kinsmen to the Comyns, the MacDowells would prove the biggest and most consistent thorns in Bruce’s side during his long struggle for the throne.

  Bruce forces MacDowell to flee to England sometime in 1308–9, where he is listed in the public records on April 8, 1309, as being “hated by the enemy” and given “the manor of Temple-Couton in York” by King Edward II for the residence of his family. But Dugald is back in Scotland again a few years later occupying the important Galloway stronghold of Dumfries.

  By far the biggest thorn that Dugald stuck in Bruce was the disaster at Loch Ryan on February 9, 1307 (six days earlier than I have it). Readers of the previous books will know that this is not the first time Loch Ryan has been mentioned (i.e., The Hawk, The Hunter, and The Arrow), and when you think about how devastating the battle must have been, it makes Bruce’s unlikely comeback even more incredible. After being forced into exile for almost five months following his failed bid for the throne in 1306, which saw one brother and numerous friends killed and his wife and family imprisoned (some in cages), Bruce gathers enough men to make his big play to retake the kingdom, and by most accounts, a large portion of his forces are wiped out before they can get beyond the beach at Loch Ryan thanks to Dugald MacDowell.

  The exact numbers are impossible to pin down, but most historians seem to put the forces at Carrick under Bruce’s command at a few hundred (what I call the northern prong of the attack, featured in The Hawk), and the forces at Loch Ryan under his two brothers’ command at somewhere between seven hundred and nine hundred.

  There were eighteen galleys at Loch Ryan, of which only two managed to escape. A medieval galley probably had eighteen to twenty-four oars, which at two men per oar is consistent with seven hundred to nine hundred men total. The large majority of these men, perhaps as many as seven hundred of them, were Irish. Some of the captured, like the Irish kinglet Margaret witnesses, were summarily beheaded, while others—like Bruce’s two brothers—were taken to Carlisle Castle in England to be executed by Edward. Thomas and Alexander Bruce were hung and beheaded after being “drawn at the tail of horses” for eight miles (BruceTrust.co.uk/places-events.html). Their heads were then put atop the gates of the castle as a rather grotesque medieval warning.

  So from what I can tell, Bruce had maybe twelve hundred men when he attempted to retake his kingdom in February 1307. Of those, possibly as many as eight hundred are killed immediately at Loch Ryan. He lands at Carrick with his few hundred men, and along with the survivors of Loch Ryan, he has around four hundred men left to retake a kingdom. You can see why I said that MacDowell dealt him a devastating blow. I can’t imagine how even the most devoted of followers could have given Bruce much of a chance after Loch Ryan.

  For his service to the English crown at Loch Ryan, MacDowell is said to have received a knighthood, silver, and an English heiress (the daughter of Hugh de Champagne) for his heir Dougal, who will later die at Bannockburn in 1314.

  John Comyn, the murdered Red Comyn’s son (and Margaret’s erstwhile suitor), also dies at Bannockburn.

  The siege of Dumfries Castle lasted longer than I have it in the book—possibly six or more weeks—with the occupants being starved into submission. That Bruce allowed Dugald MacDowell to surrender Dumfries after he’d handed over his brothers to Edward for certain execution is pretty impressive, demonstrating the lengths Bruce was willing to go to unite Scotland. Of course, as with John of Lorn, Bruce’s forbearance isn’t rewarded, and it isn’t long after the surrender that MacDowell is fighting against Bruce’s forces again on the Isle of Man. MacDowell suffers defeat there as well and is forced to surrender to Bruce for the second time in a handful of months. Again, however, Bruce allows him to go free.

  MacDowell will stay in the English service until his death sometime in 1327–28. He will be succeeded by his second son, Duncan, who continues the family habit of fighting against Bruces. In the 1330s, Duncan will raise forces a few times to attempt to bring the Balliols back to the throne.

  The difficulty Bruce must have had in bringing Galloway to heel is apparent even to visitors today. The area is remote, not easily accessible, and definitely off the tourist beaten path. I have visited most regions of Scotland, and Galloway definitely has a distinct feel to it, where very little of the outside world seems to penetrate. One can only imagine what it must have been like seven hundred years ago.

  Whether the MacDowells were any more “barbarian” than the other clans, I can only speculate, but given the remoteness of Garthland Castle in the farthest corner of the Rhins of Galloway, it seemed plausible that Margaret might appear a little wild and backward to the nobles at Stirling.

  Gallowegians themselves had an early reputation from the medieval period as being the “Wild Scots of Galloway,” for holding to their ancient customs and laws, as well as for their fighting ability. They were reputed to have held the right to lead the van of Scotland’s army in early military engagements, such as the Battle of the Standard in 1138. Sir Walter Scott summarizes them like this: “Some historians say they came of the race of the ancient Picts; some call them the Wild Scots of Galloway; all agree that they were a fierce, ungovernable race of men, who fought half-naked, and committed great cruelty upon the inhabitants of the invaded country” (Scott, Sir Walter, The History of Scotland, Vol. 1, Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black, 1864; p. 26).

  Although not codified as they were in Ireland, the influence of the ancient Irish Brehon laws in Scotland seems clear up until about the eleventh century (when feudalism was introduced after the Norman conquest of England), and in Galloway perhaps until the thirteenth century. Evidence of the old mote-hills “courts” upon which the Brehon lords dispensed justice are still scattered throughout Scotland.

  One of the most interesting (and succinct) summaries I’ve read about the Wars of Independence was in Wikipedia: “In many ways, the Scottish Wars of Independence were just a Galwegian civil war, with the Bruces the successors of Gille Brigt mac Fergusa and the Balliols the successors of Uchtred mac Fergusa” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galwegian_Gaelic).

  Although an oversimplification—English overlordship and rule was at the center of the war—there is a lot of truth to this. We think of the wars as the Scots versus the English, but it was much more complicated than that, and as I have mentioned before, much of the early flip-flopping of Bruce, Comyn, and so on, can be explained by looking at who was on the other side. The English were often cast in “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” role. Do I think Dugald MacDowell had a great love for Edward of England? No. But he hated Bruce more.

  As I alluded to briefly in the novel, the two warring factions in Scotland were descended from two sons of Prince Fergus, Lord of Galloway: Uchtred (Balliols and MacDowells) and Gille Brigte (Bruces). Gille Brigte killed his brother Uchtred in a rather heinous example of fratricide by blinding him, castrating him, and having his tongue cut out.

  Perhaps this murder set the tone for the hatred that would break out between their descendants more than a hundred years later?

  With regard to medieval marriage, readers of my previous books will know that this is a subject that has dogged me repeatedly. It is very difficult to try to determine how the “rules” (canon laws) were applied in real life and how common something was—for exam
ple, clandestine marriage. It seems that a statement of present intent was all you needed to have a valid medieval marriage. In other words, the “I take thee” vows that Margaret and Eoin spoke would have been enough alone—even without consummation. A statement of future intent (such as a betrothal agreement) and consummation, however, also made a valid marriage. But, as the rules were likely just as confusing to the medieval participants as they are to this twenty-first-century former attorney researcher, I decided to err on the side of overdoing what was required. What would a wedding be without consummation? This is a romance, after all.

  Last, the Abbey of St. Mary’s mentioned in Stirling is now called Cambuskenneth.

  For more, including pictures of many of the places in the series, please visit www.monicamccarty.com.

  AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH BY ALEX ABERCROMBIE

  MONICA McCARTY is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the widely acclaimed, award-winning Highland Guard series, as well as the MacLeods of Skye and Campbell trilogies. Her interest in the Scottish clan system began in the most unlikely of places: a comparative legal history course at Stanford Law School. After realizing that her career as a lawyer and her husband’s transitory life as a professional baseball player were not exactly a match made in heaven, she traded in writing legal briefs for writing about sexy Scottish alpha heroes. She lives in the San Francisco Bay area with her family. Visit www.monicamccarty.com.

  FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: authors.simonandschuster.com/Monica-McCarty

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  OTHER BOOKS IN MONICA MCCARTY’S

  HIGHLAND GUARD SERIES

  The Chief

  The Hawk

  The Ranger

  The Viper

  The Saint

  The Recruit

  The Hunter

  The Knight (novella)

  The Raider