Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Nay, Mother, we don’t. I will marry Fingal MacIan in a few hours. Ye must accept that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I must accept, Gillian.”

  “Please, I don’t wish to argue. I know ye probably would prefer that I step aside for Fallon—”

  “Good heavens, no! That man cannot marry Fallon under any circumstances.”

  “Then I don’t see what the problem is. She doesn’t have to marry him.” Fallon stood silently to one side.

  “The problem, Gillian”—her mother hissed her name as if it were an invective—“is he should not be the leader of this clan. I know this is not the way things were meant to be.”

  “I’m not sure why ye are so certain of the way things were meant to be. Things are as they are and frankly the more I consider it, the more I believe we only have Laird Malcolm to blame. He wanted Fingal to lead this clan enough to betray a staunch ally and waste too many lives to see it done. Perhaps this isn’t the way he intended it to happen, but happen it has.”

  “Ye know nothing, Gillian MacLennan!”

  “Mother, I know that this is beyond our control and I’m tired of arguing with ye. I can only follow the king’s dictate and do what I must to help preserve our clan. It is as Fingal said. Ye must decide where yer loyalties lie. Mine lie with the clan.”

  “As do mine. How dare ye suggest otherwise?”

  “Good, then there is nothing more to discuss. Good night, mother.” Gillian opened the door as a not so subtle hint for them to leave.

  Her mother narrowed her eyes and she snarled, “Yer father would be so ashamed!” before leaving in a huff.

  Fallon remained behind for a moment, looking a bit stunned. She gave Gillian a quick hug and whispered, “Nay he wouldn’t, Gillian,” before following their mother.

  Would he? Dear God, in a few hours she would marry his murderer’s son. Would her father understand that it was her only option? It made her head hurt. The course was set; she had to try to make it work for the sake of her family and her clan.

  ~ * ~

  Fingal had watched with admiration as Gillian left the hall, her head high and her back straight. He found her simply remarkable. After arguing tooth and nail against marrying him, she could have remained stubbornly silent, or worse yet, openly disagreed with the demand he had placed on her clan. Clearly she recognized the need for clan unity and in spite of her personal feelings she fully supported him in that. Perhaps there was hope for this marriage.

  The remainder of the MacLennans appeared to follow her suggestion to “find their beds” as many of them left the hall while others bedded down on the floor as was their custom.

  As the hall cleared and they were afforded a bit of privacy, Niall interrupted his musing. “She seems to have accepted this better than I expected.”

  Fingal shook his head. “Nay, she hasn’t.”

  “She was agreeable just now.”

  “Aye, because she is smart and she cares about her clan. She is not happy. She blames me for my mother’s actions.”

  “She will get past that, Fingal.”

  Fingal hoped so, but he wished he could be as confident about it as Niall. Before he could say so, Eadoin approached. “Lairds, can I be of any service?”

  “Eadoin, ye were made the MacLennan commander?” Niall asked.

  “Aye, Laird MacIan.”

  Eadoin and Niall had trained together and Niall still considered him a friend in spite of all that had happened. During his captivity, after the battle at Duncurra, Eadoin told them that Malcolm’s decision to attack Duncurra did not have the whole-hearted support of many of his men, but nevertheless they were sworn to follow their laird.

  Niall asked, “What can we expect from the MacLennans?”

  “I wish I knew for sure. There are some, many in fact, who are thrilled. There is no denying we are vulnerable. Having the might of the MacIans and their allies behind us again is a relief. Niall, after the battle at Duncurra ye dealt fairly with us. We were well treated and our wounded cared for. Ye allowed us our dignity. The ransom ye requested was laughably small. Many of us won’t forget that.” He turned to Fingal. “Most of the MacLennans accept that ye are Malcolm’s rightful heir. The king has effectively silenced any opposition to that by insisting ye marry Gillie. I will swear my fealty to ye.”

  Fingal nodded. “I appreciate that. However, I fear there is something ye aren’t telling us.”

  Eadoin seemed to consider his words for a moment. “Malcolm kept secrets and I suspect he wasn’t alone. Two of the elders, Nolan and Owen, have been dead set against the idea of ye being made laird. Nolan particularly was close to Malcolm and perhaps knew more about what Malcolm kept hidden than anyone. I believe ye will have the support of most of the clan even if some of it is grudgingly given. Just don’t let yer guard down until we know for sure.”

  “Aye, Eadoin, I won’t. I appreciate yer candor.”

  Eadoin’s demeanor became solemn. “Laird, I will serve ye faithfully. Malcolm wanted ye to be his heir. I do not respect the method he chose to accomplish it, but the fact remains this is what he intended to happen eventually. However, before I declare my fealty tomorrow I would like to make something clear.”

  Fingal nodded and Eadoin continued. “I have known Gillie since she was a bairn. She is like a sister to me. Duncan was my commander, and I considered him a friend. He had both my respect and admiration. I do not hold ye responsible for what yer mother did but ye must know that Gillie adored her father. When she became our chief, we learned how strong and dedicated to this clan she truly was. She was destined to marry someone who could serve as laird and she was unlikely to have any say as to whom it would be—I don’t dispute that. As far as it goes, I know ye are an honorable man, and a better choice of husband than many. However, in spite of her willingness to follow the king’s demands, ye must know she has a broken heart and mourns the loss of her father deeply. I will not swear my fealty to ye until ye have sworn to honor and protect her in yer marriage vows. Never give me cause to regret my oath to ye.”

  Fingal returned Eadoin’s solemn gaze before carefully choosing his next words. There was a time when Niall, the man whom he respected more than any other, but who had been blinded by old hurts, behaved like a complete arse towards his lovely wife Katherine. Fingal understood what it felt like to be trapped between fealty to his laird and concern for his lady. “Eadoin, there are men who would consider that statement a threat. However, I appreciate the respect ye hold for Lady Gillian. Tomorrow, I will vow before God to love, honor, keep, and guard her. If ye ever think I am in danger of failing those vows, I give ye leave to address it with me privately.”

  “Thank ye, laird.”

  Eadoin’s relief was palpable and Fingal’s respect for the man grew. “Oh, and Eadoin, if I ever seem less than willing to hear ye out, ye need to say but one word—Katherine.”

  Niall arched an eyebrow at him and Fingal laughed. “Niall, ye can’t deny it, ye were an arse and if ye had listened to me from the start, it could’ve saved ye loads of misery.”

  Niall laughed too. “Aye, brother, ye needn’t rub it in.”

  Eadoin chuckled. “Well, Lairds, it is late and if ye wish to get some rest before morning I will show ye to rooms upstairs. Yer men can bed down here in the hall.”

  “Thank ye, Eadoin,” Fingal said. “Since it is so late, we won’t keep ye any longer. We will stay with the men in the hall tonight and sort out other arrangements tomorrow.”

  “So be it. Good night then, Lairds.” Eadoin gave a small nod and left the keep.

  As the men settled in for the night, Niall and Fingal sat alone at the table. “Niall, what think ye of Eadoin? Would I be wrong to leave him as commander?”

  “Eadoin is a good man and I believe he will be loyal. However, I think ye should also have someone here whose loyalty ye would never question. Ye know I am leaving men-at-arms to bolster yer ranks, but ye need someone else.”

  “Aye, that would ease my m
ind a great deal. Who do ye suggest?”

  “In the short term, Diarmad can stay here.”

  “Nay, he is yer commander, Duncurra is his home. I don’t want ye to do that.”

  Niall insisted, “There is no one I trust more. He would be a solid advisor and a strong right arm just until things are more settled. But ye also might want to bring in a few guardsmen of yer choosing—maybe Peadar and Quinn MacKenzie. Ye trained with them at Chisholm and ye know they would be worthy guardsmen.”

  Fingal laughed. “Ye just made Rowan MacKenzie one of yer guardsmen. Cathal will declare war if we lure more of his sons away. Besides, Peadar is married and settled at Carraigile.”

  “Then just ask Quinn. Another man ye should consider is Bran MacBain. He trained here when I did but left well before Laird Kelvin died, while Malcolm was at court. He won’t have had strong ties to Malcolm but the MacLennans will respect him. And, of course, Hogan MacBain is a solid ally.”

  “Aye,” Fingal agreed, “so is Laird Ross, and Bran is married to his youngest daughter, Tira. I may also eventually contact Laird MacKay. His nephew, Dougal, is old enough to begin training as a squire.”

  “That would also give ye ties with MacLeod as Dougal is his nephew too. I think it’s a good plan, Fingal.”

  “Still, I need to learn what resources I have available before I act.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” Niall cautioned. “When Malcolm turned on me, he severed more ties than he knew. Ye will need to take steps to rebuild allies as quickly as ye can.”

  “Aye, Niall, I know ye are right. But I may not have the funds required to do this.”

  “Fingal,” Niall said in exasperation, “ye are more stubborn that I ever knew. Yer mother left a small fortune to ye.”

  Fingal frowned and clenched his jaw. “I will not take that money. She stole it from Da. It should go back to the MacIans.”

  “And I am tired of arguing with ye about this. We do not need it. Ye do.”

  “Nay. Eithne and Malcolm are to blame for all of this. I want nothing from her.”

  “Aye, brother, they are to blame for all this and that is precisely why ye should accept the money. It may be the only way to repair a small portion of the damage they did.”

  “I will not discuss this anymore tonight.”

  Niall shook his head in frustration. “And ye say I’m hard-headed.”

  Fingal attempted to change the subject. “So, Diarmad will stay temporarily and I will try to bring on Bran MacBain and Quinn MacKenzie. The question remains, do I leave Eadoin as my commander?”

  Niall appeared to consider this for a while before answering. “Give him shared leadership with Diarmad for now so as not to offend the MacLennan’s, but know that Diarmad has yer back.”

  “Thank ye, Niall.”

  Niall lowered his voice, perhaps not wishing to be overheard by any of the MacLennans who might still be awake. “Spend the next few months assessing the situation here. I suspect the MacLennan warriors that are left need more training and discipline. Malcolm’s father, Laird Kelvin, was a brilliant warrior and trained his men rigorously. From what we have seen in the last year, I suspect Malcolm was not as effective. If it becomes clear that ye need more help, ask for it.”

  Chapter 5

  Gillian tried to get some rest in what remained of the night but it was to little avail. Before dawn pinked the frigid winter sky, she gave up. Although the front stairs were closer to the laird’s chamber, which she had been given when the clan named her chief, she hurried through the quiet halls and down the backstairs. These exited into the back of the great hall, near the doors to the rear bailey and kitchens, her destination.

  As she quietly entered the kitchen, she was not surprised to see Jeanne, the elderly woman who still managed the cooking, already at work. When she saw Gillian, Jeanne’s face burst into a wreath of smiles and she opened her arms. Gillian rushed into her embrace. Enfolded in the warmth and love of a dear friend, something crumbled inside her and Gillian burst into tears.

  “I-I’m sorry, Jeanne,” she sobbed.

  “Och, lass, ye have yerself a bit of a cry now. Ye’ll feel better and we can tackle this together.”

  It felt good to cry. Gillian had held it in for so long. She hadn’t even given in to tears when Aunt Meara died months earlier. The clan was in disarray, she was their leader, and she had to stay strong. Jeanne just crooned, “Wheesht, lass,” and held her while she cried.

  When her tears were spent, Jeanne motioned her to a chair near the hearth. “Sit here a minute while I fix us a nice warm tisane and we’ll talk.”

  Gillian watched the stooped old woman busy herself making the warm brew. The peacefulness of the quiet, cozy kitchen surrounded her and she slowly regained control. After Jeanne poured the fragrant drink into two mugs, she pulled out a small jug and winked at Gillian. “Ye know I only use the water of life for medicinal purposes, but I think a wee drop is called for this morning.” Gillian grinned as Jeanne poured more than a drop into each mug. Jeanne was a great one for discovering all of the medicinal uses of whisky. She handed Gillian a mug before drawing another chair near the fire and settling herself in it. Gillian took a sip and felt the warmth to her very soul.

  “Now, lass, let’s talk things through.”

  “Jeanne, have ye heard what’s happening?”

  “Aye, lass, news like that doesn’t rest long. The king has seen fit to give us a laird and ye a husband.”

  “Aye. Fingal MacIan.”

  Jeanne chuckled. “Fingal MacIan, the demon.”

  “He isn’t a demon, Jeanne.”

  “Nay? Well, by the way ye said that just now I thought ye were namin’ one of the devil’s own.”

  Gillian gave her a wan smile. “He isn’t a bad man. It’s just—it’s just...”

  “Ye feel cornered. It feels as if everything is spinning out of control. Ye miss yer da with every breath ye take and Fingal MacIan’s mother is the one who took him from ye. Not to mention that yer own mother only makes things worse.”

  Gillian blinked in astonishment at the accuracy of Jeanne’s summary. “Aye.”

  “Well, my sweet lass, this is what ye will do. Ye will rise to this. Ye will marry that young MacIan. Ye will honor the vows ye take before God and ye’ll work to be yer husband’s partner.”

  Gillain looked aghast. “His partner? I want as little as possible to do with him.”

  “Tell me, what is to be gained by that?”

  “I-I-I’ll be faithful to my father’s memory.”

  “I see. And that is what yer father wants? For this clan to be divided and fall?”

  “Nay, Jeanne. Ye twist my words, but the MacIans have—”

  “Don’t tell me what the MacIans have done. The MacLennans are not innocent in this but moreover that’s in the past. Gillian, hear me well. Men live in the past. They hold grudges and fight wars over bygone things. Women must live for the future, for our children and their children. Sometimes we have to set aside old hurts, regardless of how painful they are, in order to ensure a better life for our children.”

  “But—”

  “Nay, the best way to honor yer father’s memory is to see this clan become great again. The best way to do that is to become yer husband’s ally and see to the welfare of our people. Ye don’t have to love the man, but ye must earn his respect and find a way to give him yers.” Jeanne’s face softened. “Oh, Gillie, I hate to see yer heart ache so. Years ago, I had my own dreams for ye. Ye were such a sweet thing and I wanted nothing more than for ye to marry my grandson.” Tears clouded the old woman’s eyes as she remembered her loss. “He was a good lad and would have made a fine warrior. Still, the good Lord had other plans for him and He does for ye as well. Ye will be the mother of our clan’s leaders to come. Focus on that future now and ignore anyone or anything that drags ye into the past. Do ye understand me, lass?”

  “Aye, Jeanne, I understand.”

  “Ye know yer own mother is likely to be
one of them.”

  Gillian sighed. “Aye, sadly I do.”

  “Hold strong against that, lass. Maybe she will understand someday. Like it or not, yer future is with yer new husband, not yer mother.”

  Gillian nodded. Jeanne was right. Her future was indeed with Fingal MacIan and though she didn’t like it she would do what she had to do.

  Jeanne leaned forward and patted Gillian’s hand. “Now, lass, break yer fast with me and then I will see that a bath is sent up to ye.”

  “I don’t have time for a bath. I have a keep overflowing with unwelcome guests to see to. I’ll just have a quick wash in the tub in the wash-house.”

  “Nonsense, ’tis yer wedding day. I’ll make sure yer guests are fed.”

  ~ * ~

  As Gillian sank into the bath Jeanne had arranged, she was immensely grateful the old woman had insisted on it. It was a luxury she seldom indulged in, preferring to bathe, as most everyone else did, in the wash-house where the laundry was done or behind a screen in the kitchen; it was much less work for everyone. However, having a bath in the privacy of her own chamber was delightful. That was until a swarm of clanswomen, including her mother and sisters, descended on her.

  The mixed feelings with which the clan greeted the news of their new laird and the king’s edict were clearly expressed among the women. Some were joyous, others dolorous, but all were intent to see her wed with as much fanfare as possible, under the circumstances. Her friend Alana, plump with pregnancy, did her best to keep the mood light. Ailsa’s continuous chatter also distracted Gillian.

  These women who loved her were there to pamper her. They brought sweet herbs for her bath water and helped wash and dry her hair. They pulled out practically every garment she owned and argued over what she should wear. They created a controlled chaos that prevented Gillian from dwelling overmuch on what was to come.

  By mid-morning, still only wearing a shift, Gillian sat with a blanket around her shoulders while her sister worked an intricate braid in her hair. The women had decided she should wear her dark blue léine. It was made of soft lamb’s wool but had no adornment and apparently that simply would not do. Three women sat furiously embroidering scrollwork in yellow thread on the neck and sleeves. Peggy, who diligently worked on one sleeve moaned, “It is a shame we don’t have any gold thread. I know Rhiannon has some but we just don’t have time to go get it.”