“I feel I am sick,” Mary said.
“I can see that.”
“Leave me, for I can best deal with this alone.”
“Better alone madam?”
“Yes.”
“As you wish.” Eionghall departed leaving Mary to her darkness. A wise woman might set things right and Eionghall went to arrange such.
Thinking of Kenneth brought a sadness Mary couldn’t abide. Her fingers nails dug into flesh which pained her but she couldn’t loosen. She bit her lip hard then relaxed with considerable effort. Aware as she did, that she could sever her lip easily, if she lost control.
A draught of wine calmed her enough that some sleep came. An inner escape to horrors only, for the knots of despair did not loosen in her sleep.
“I am sick, I am sick.” She said, clenching her fingers tight as the pain inside her head worsened.
“Mary Mary, wake child. Mary!” She looked up into a face that banished bewilderment. It was Margaret, a woman whose smile was warm, who was loving and strong, intelligent. Margaret was respected in the village, she was canny in many ways, and used her skills for good and never ill.
“Why must I wake?” Mary asked.
“You’ve slept overlong. The village is in turmoil. Terrible news I have to impart. You must prepare yourself to hear it.”
Mary got up intending to go, go where? She knew not where. “I must get out and be away.”
“Be still and listen, for it is not fact until it is told.”
“Oh, no, do not tell, for I know already. My Kenneth is fallen.”
By art of her eyes Margaret made Mary relax. With those same eyes, imparting the knowledge that it was Mary’s duty to uphold herself and that she could. Margaret put her arms around Mary, let her cry for a time, then set about gaining her something to eat and arranged that others surround her, having told them to keep all talk to easy subjects.
She went about the grim task of informing Morgund. After ascertaining that his state would not distress his mother, she brought him to Mary. Later they went into a smaller room and spoke of what must be done. When actions were concentrated on, grief was less, it was manageable and not destructive.
“Kenneth was a good man.” Margaret said.
Mary nodded and didn’t prolong the conversation. Margaret knew she wasn’t needed for these two together could sustain each other.
WILLIAM NEARLY KILLED the horse and himself getting to the village and, thereafter, breathless and exhausted, he reported to the counsellors.
The king’s Normans were exerting heavy pressure to acquire Celtic land, therefore, some of the Celtic Earls could be expected to protect the rights of a traditional Celtic landholder beset by an aspiring contestant. All were decided, such motivation was behind Kenneth’s death. It was decided that Morgund must leave Ross, forthwith, south, seek the protection of the Celtic Earls. Going to Ireland would allow the king to ignore him, his familial lands would be lost forever, if he took such a course.
Regarding the identity of the Kenneth’s slayer most deemed MacCainstacairt to be the culprit. MacCainstacairt was Kenneth’s worrisome neighbour, canny, treacherous, ruthless and restless, only time would tell if this assumption was correct. MacCainstairt the hereditary Abbot of Applecross, was much at court, was warlike, and would like nothing better than the fall of the MacAedhs.
Morgund would seek sanctuary with the king. The council considered the king had no part in Kenneth’s death. Morgund’s means of travel was discussed. The council decided a number of swordsmen would escort Morgund. Dolfin, the leader, would select and lead them. A small number would be best, five other men accompanying Dolfin. The first four picked were proven fighters. The fifth remained undecided for some time. Certain names were mentioned, Seward hearing his own, registered surprise. Dolfin considered him too young, but by virtue of his being an accomplished swordsman, and skilled in field craft, most thought, he was a natural choice, and Dolfin was persuaded to include him. Seward took his place with the other men.
As they were departing Seward leaned over to Morgund, silent, pale, and sad. “Morgund, your father was a fine man. He was a great friend to me and I shall be yours.” He smiled at Morgund trying to convey warmth and support. Morgund remained expressionless. Uncertainty over his future held terrors for him. With a heaviness of heart, Seward said, “I will be your shield, sacrifice my life to save you.” Morgund stared at him for a moment then turned his eyes away.
Dolfin was shouting instructions. “We must be off before the killers of Kenneth descend upon us.”
A horseman galloping past bearing an urgent warning to Donald Ban MacAedh. The MacAedhs, already depleted by many years of warfare were rapidly becoming extinct. As they rode out past friends and families, Malcolm and his wife and Gormlaith, out in front.
“We’re proud of you, boy, protect Morgund,” Malcolm shouted to Seward.
Gormlaith ran beside Seward’s horse full of good advice. “Keep eyes and sword sharp.” Tears stained her features. “Would she ever see Seward again?” She hoped so. “I wish I could go with you. To protect you.” Shouting. “I’ll pray for your safe return Seward … Seward … don’t forget me.”
She screamed until he was beyond hearing, continuing her run long after he faded to a small figure. Before he disappeared he stopped to give her a last wave then rode to catch up.
Another girl was crushed. One day Suanna had hoped to wed Seward, that shiny haired boy she poked her tongue out to when first they met, and whom she had loved since that day. Twinkling diamonds suddenly released from her eyes spilling down her cheeks. She ran, hiding her devastation from those around her, holding a medal of Saint Andrew whilst she prayed, “Please Lord, allow Seward to come home.” She was so afraid that he would not.
THE ROUTE THEY were taking was one of Dolfin’s own making. Dolfin alone knowing the way ahead. He cared not to repeat Kenneth’s error, he informed them, he would not risk it. “I trust we shall fare better than Kenneth,” he said lightheartedly.
Dolfin looked too cheerful on mentioning Kenneth. Seward didn’t like it. His instinct warned him of danger. It was not manly art to make mirth of dead friends! “A grave loss,” Seward said. “Kenneth.”
Seward may as well have spoken to the air, none took notice, perhaps it went unheard, he thought, he was surprised he had the nerve to speak thus. They rode eastward then angled off to the south, into land only Dolfin knew. Dolfin talked too much as they rode, Seward only half-listening, felt that trouble stalked, the noose of discontent tightening. Dolfin began to engage Seward in gentle conversation which Seward had scant regard for, it could be said to be light, harmlessly charming, but there was an edge to it. Something was amiss.
“Seward … tell us a tale.” Looking at Seward’s reddened face, he said, “Pray tell, what troubles you?”
“It isn’t a time for tales, Dolfin.”
“Why not?”
“Shouldn’t we be vigilant in case of attack?”
“Certainly. Good thinking Seward.” Dolfin threw his head back and laughed. “Seward you worry too much. I’ve got everything under control, trust me, things will work out well.”
Dolfin produced a wry smile and nodded to the others in mockery of Seward. Seward noticed how many joined in, and those that did, he liked not. But after some further distance he had a change of heart. He told himself that Dolfin’s wisdom went beyond his own. Feeling embarrassed by the ridicule he was content to ignore his fears and see what transpired. Shortly thereafter Dolfin complained of stomach pains and they slowed.
Meanwhile William resolved to make south. Being the sole survivor of the massacre it could be supposed that William might identify Kenneth’s killers. Dangerous. So therefore leaving Ross forthwith with the aim to find Morgund, and help him. After following for some distance it became obvious to William that Dolfin was making no effort to hide their track. Slow travel over rocky or high ground would make trailing them difficult, was Dolfin was attempting to put speed
ahead of concealment? It seemed so but then a thought occurred to him, this could be another betrayal. Dolfin could be in league with MacCainstacairt? Good sense dictated that precautions be taken. Why leave a clear trail and travel slow? There was something decidedly odd about this, especially when it appeared that the pace had become even slower. William was alert, not wishing to be caught unawares by MacCainstacairt.
Several miles to the south, Seward, was equally confused. Dolfin had been one of Kenneth’s most able lieutenants. Not disguising their trail worried him. That the route was known to Dolfin alone was another cause for concern. What if trouble struck and something happened to him? As if in answer to his thoughts suddenly Dolfin fell ill and the pace dropped dramatically. Seward then demanded Dolfin tell them all what his plans were, this slowness could be their death.
Dolfin told them he knew a gap in the mountains through the thick forest. Once up in the pines they could see any pursuers who would be travelling over open country. Torching the forest behind them would blind their enemies and eradicate any sign of their passage. It might have seemed a sensible course of action when Dolfin had devised it but now that Dolfin had fallen ill an alternative plan was needed for they might not reach the forest.
Nothing was said but eye contact was revealing that others were having doubts. The pace soon dropped even more. Seward thought that perhaps they should leave Dolfin behind and take their chances. Seward remained silent until a mile further. In another hour it would be dark, reassuring himself with it. Travelling all night would make them vastly more difficult for an enemy to detect them, it might bring them to safety.
Any doubts Seward held that perhaps he had been too hasty with fear affecting his judgement were soon dispelled. Then it happened, Dolfin wanted to stop for the night. Seward realised that under the cover of darkness was a safer time to travel. The country was getting higher they had to push on. Seward dismounted to drink from a stream. After remounting he drew his horse close to Dolfin who was talking to two other members of the party.
“Why are we stopping here when we may reach the forest by morning?”
“Seward, your intentions I don’t doubt, but leave the decision making to me, for I am more experienced. You are just a boy.”
“But this is folly, Dolfin. I say we must press on and at least camp in brush where we can hear an enemies approach. Here we might be overrun. An enemy could descend upon us in our sleep, thus slaying us.”
“I say that will not happen. The night will be very dark and our trail has not been followed. In the morning with rested horses we will leave them far behind.”
“How do you know that our trail has not been followed?”
“Because I know, that is all, and I am not accustomed to be being taught by a young pup.”
A long silence ensued. Seward could see two members of the party were unconvinced. He decided that too much was at stake to not voice his doubts. He pulled close to Dolfin. “Dolfin I cannot understand your reasoning. I sense a trap. Someone close to Kenneth is a traitor, and passed his plans on to MacCainstacairt. Now Morgund has been led to a place ideal for a night killing. My suspicions could be wrong but a sensible man guards against all possibilities. I say we go on.”
“Go on?” Dolfin looked mystified. “So I am a traitor.”
Confronting Dolfin so directly could lose Seward the support of other men. It was a concern but when Dolfin glanced at two confederates he learned the truth. They looked at Morgund with a purpose, he couldn’t pull away for he knew his suspicions had been correct, half the party was in league with MacCainstacairt and intended to kill Morgund.
“Is it that you plan him harm?” Seward asked, calmly, despite his pounding heartbeat, desperate to purchase more time to formulate plan.
“Choose your words with care Seward.”
“I seek truth Dolfin.”
Dolfin reached for his sword. “Do you wish this upon you?”
“Nay,” emitted from Seward’s lips, looking tense whilst trying to assess where lay his best option.
“Do you think to offend me and live to tell of it Seward?”
Seward realised this was all gaming for the benefit of Morgund and for the men loyal to Morgund’s cause. Dolfin’s two confederates rode close to them. Seward warned the men he deemed independent. “Draw swords, they are traitors.”
“We are ready for them,” said one, as he drew.
Battle lines drawn, the sides were evenly matched and Morgund was the prize. But now having lost the element of surprise Dolfin changed tactics.
“Seward, you are a smart young fellow, as are your friends. Don’t die on Morgund’s account. The MacAedhs are finished. King William is dead. It is a lost cause. A plan of action was devised by MacCainstacairt with the aid of the new king Alexander. On King William’s death MacCainstacairt would move against Kenneth. And thus, it was done. Seward, MacCainstacairt will be Earl of Ross. You support a dead cause.”
“It is not dead. He lives.”
“No doubt, but soon will be dead.”
With a measure of detached coldness Seward had drawn his sword. Dolfin was mentally taken aback by this calmness, also, by how highly Seward regarded Morgund’s life. The boy had few friends and was totally inept. No less, surprised at Seward having the nerve to confront him, confidently. Observing Seward’s confidence and fearlessness Dolfin decided to proceed cautiously. Dispassionately a part of him admired Seward, he acknowledged his great presence of mind in adversity. Seward deemed it irrelevant if his two companions succumbed. Irrelevant, how could it be? To challenge death, with little hope of survival, was calmness, rare.
Some few feet away stood Morgund. Morgund who felt a great distance between himself and these men deciding his fate. They were capable men, it was within them this power and willingness to fight, how unlike him they were. He sought for a way to obstruct these larger fellows, but it was an impossibility. If he had a bow and arrow, then at least he could fly an arrow at them. What a hopeless mess he was in.
Unable to undertake his defence caused an emotional tightening up, a wetness to gather at the corner of his eyes, internally a feeling alike to suffocating. His fear was a solid thing, on all sides closing in on him. He wanted to flee but fear prevented it, for he knew if he ran, he would be caught and die. He could do nothing but wait. Not a dusty cloud in sight, uncommon, as if the skies were watching the unfolding storm occurring between men. Such a listless pathetic thoughts, when about to die written large on his face.
Dolfin’s voice broke the spell. “Why you would risk your life to protect this feeble youth whose prospects in life are slim when compared to the wily and experienced MacCainstacairt? Seward, by sacrificing your life you merely delay the inevitable.”
Dolfin was a compelling speaker, swaying men by his oratory in the past Seward wondered if he might persuade these two stalwarts to turn against Morgund. He looked to them, it would not happen this time. He hardened his resolve. He thought of what he had told Morgund, that he would sacrifice his life for him, how soon it could affected. Nothing could stop him from noble purpose. “I will not surrender him to you Dolfin and if I knew Morgund not, but knew what his fate would be at your hands I would act as now. You are a betrayer Dolfin. A skulking coward.”
“Enough! Nothing will serve but that I must teach you by sword point Seward.”
At that, a smile spread over Seward’s face, it was not what Dolfin was hoping to see. He should have taken more notice of him in the village, stories of his ability sprang to mind.
Seward, riding some distance away from the others, addressed Morgund. “Ride Morgund.” When at first Morgund didn’t move, he raised his voice, “Ride to safety, I will hold these for a little.” When Morgund still didn’t start, he said, “Go, or die upon this field.”
He saw Morgund spur his horse towards snow-capped peaks. Dolfin sent a rider after him. Thereafter the of sound of several long blasts on a hunting horn. Seward knew that MacCainstacairt was near. The horn conf
irmed it. Seward called to one of Morgund’s supporters. “Go after him!” The man looking startled. Seward shouted again, “Go! I trust you, alone he is dead. Go!”
Seward had to risk that this man he sent after Morgund was loyal. Morgund could not out ride nor outfight the traitor who pursued him. Watching the clansman galloping away, Seward knew he had to send a man after him. He had done the only thing he could. The time for misgivings was past, he needed all his senses as Dolfin pointed his sword at Seward and charged. Thereafter, contact, wherein intense concentration and will and flashing swords. The shifting melee of combat ablaze.
Upon hearing the sounds of the other pair engaged in battle, Seward gave himself almost totally to the contest with Dolfin. A small section of his brain detached and alert for a lull in the other fight which might spell danger. Blow after blow rang out. If either man was too slow or weak he would be slashed or stabbed. Alternately changing between attack and defence amidst the panicked shuffling of horses caused a strain on the less-experienced swordsman, Seward. Dolfin abetting it, hoping to put him at a deadly disadvantage.
Planning to make Seward react a split second late Dolfin needed just part of a second to slay Seward. Seward brought his sword to Dolfin’s throat, who pushed it away. Thereafter Dolfin aimed a blow which Seward ducked. Then Seward struck thin air. Dolfin missed with his strike. With Dolfin, left open, Seward likewise misjudged. With horses rearing and turning, it was awkward. Anguished, Seward pulled on his reins, his mount rose, turned, blocking Dolfin’s attack. When Seward’s head was strikable again, Dolfin struck the air, then his sword was parried, then, again, and again. Whirling steel came upon whirling steel. Dolfin swayed to add leverage to his attack. Seward turned, spoiling the attack.
Dolfin’s next blow was met with steel and steel again. Carbon crystals densely joined, strikes were jarringly unthinkingly absorbed. Seward pushed onto Dolfin’s edge, lowered it, struck, but Dolfin slipped by. Slashing, crashing, with all their vigour drenched them in salty sweat and yet another smell permeated the air, fear.
Celtic Blood Page 4
