The three gripped hands together.
“How shall we earn our living?” Seward asked.
“We are able bodied men. There will be work for us,” Morgund replied.
Seward looked forlorn. “But with no armour or money to buy it with, the soldier’s life is lost to us.
“Perhaps not,” William said overturning a bag of gold coins.
“Where did that come from?” Morgund’s, eyes were wide.
William told of the cave and the gold. Having recently escaped death, with full bellies, with a large quantity of largess in their possession, spirits took flight. This would be the start of a new exciting life. The young men stripped and dived into a large clear stream flowing fast. The day was hot. England was a warmer country than Scotland, and so late in the year, such heat, would never occur at home, they appreciated it. Today nothing existed, only warmth and friendship.
Later stretched out near a fire, Morgund asked William, “William, where did you hide the gold before our escape?”
“Stitched into my saddle bags and in my horse blanket.”
“Were you not worried lest someone steal it?”
“Where else could I keep it, and not alert others to its presence? Besides if someone stole it, I could easily obtain more.”
It made sense to Morgund. A long night passed in good humoured camaraderie, hopeful futures were explored, asides on Alexander and how they hadn’t see his treachery coming, and that snake Buchan and how Athol had misused him. Much laughter. Eventually the fire burnt low and they slept.
Next day Seward walked towards his horse and collected his bow, and said, “I shall return soon. I go to get fresh meat, a stag will do us.”
“You will not labour alone,” Morgund replied.
William decided to enter the forest and seek game also.
Morgund, who was less confident of coming across a deer said, “I might set a snare for a rabbit for we may as well live on fresh fare and save our dried food.”
Each took different paths in their search for the bounty of the forest. Morgund came to a sloping glade with thick trees above and below, to a multitude of ferns. Then leaving ferns, Morgund entered broken woodland where filtered sunlight barely reached the forest floor, the ground thickly covered with strawberries.
The plants were heavy with a multitude of fruit. He picked up a handful. Putting them to his lips, he tasted a succulent flavour. Taking a deerskin from his shoulders he began filling it. Engrossed in his work, he did not see three figures looming towards him from the shadows of the forest. Turning towards a sound, he was up on his feet, sword drawn.
“Easy, easy young friend, don’t cut yourself. Is it wise for one so young to carry a dangerous weapon? Surrender your sword to me, toss it to the ground.” The giant of a man who spoke, smiled at him.
It seemed to Morgund that misfortune did not relent in its pursuit. “No,” Morgund said pointing his sword at them and instantly regretted putting them on-guard. Nevertheless he sought overcome his mistake.
The man who had spoken was dark. His tone hard and aggressive, as he said, “This sickly boy holds his sword towards me. He couldn’t even touch me, I will swipe a hole straight through your body boy!”
“Oh great giant of the forest I was but picking your strawberries, forgive me.” Morgund walked towards them sword downward, smiling, “I am lost, and my father would pay a handsome reward to any who would assist me.”
The mention of silver money them pause. His mind quoted Seward’s instructions. When faced with a group of opponents, pick one and cut through him. Stay to one side of the others. They would shield him. He felt heartened he had remembered what Seward had said.
“Where are you from?” This from the large one, obviously the leader.
“Only another step or two more,” Morgund thought. “Scotland,” he answered.
The large one raised his hand. “Hold young man.”
Morgund stopped and waited. The giant spoke. “Put your sword on the ground and take ten steps, back, go, move!”
Morgund ran towards them. Deciding he was not giving up without a fight, at least. Good intentions aside he was overpowered quickly. With hands tied behind his back, they walked him out in front of them. They came to a small hut where they gained mounts, thereafter they came to the road and later to the castle.
At the castle, the castle’s guardian addressed Morgund. “Morgund, I believed you had escaped us, the king thought as much.”
Morgund was drained, defeated, in pain. His head throbbed, his arms and upper body burned from being held in an unnatural position. He was numb. Resigned to his fate.
“I will send a rider to the king and advise him of your return and find out what is to be done with you.”
Morgund managed to focus on the speaker, a tall, thin, scholarly type, dark in the French way. He looked down at Morgund bound on a chair and sighed. The man was not unkind. If only the boy had escaped he would not be forced to carry out this distasteful duty.
He had no doubt of Morgund’s fate when he said, “MacAedh, whilst you are in my care you will be fed well, and receive some comfort, as much as I can make available in the circumstances.”
He could see Morgund was not following him. Ordering his fastenings undone, that he be taken to the dungeon, this, to keep him away from prying eyes. In the cell, Morgund’s face was washed and he received a jug of warm milk after which he lapsed into an exhausted sleep. Much later, Morgund awoke and realised he was alive. This caused a sudden elation, which turned quickly to depression. His head hung low. There was no hope, surely they would kill him soon. King John of England’s nephew, Arthur, king John had murdered the helpless boy whilst held prisoner. Such a fate awaited the prisoner of kings. Surrounded by darkness he moved an arm. The bindings had been released. There was stiffness but his arms and shoulders felt immeasurably better. Adjusting to the dim, he saw he was in an aperture less cell and alone. Morgund thought a torch must be burning outside the door, for a muffled light there was. The door opened and a guard gave him a loaf of bread, followed by a bowl of soup, which tasted good.
The guard waited silently for him to finish. When he did, Morgund handed him back the bowl and the guard closed the door. The guard left, taking his light with him. It was gone. Morgund could see, nothing. Nothing, only black eternity, no light was outside the door. It had been the torch carried by the guard which gave him sight of his cell. None good reside in the living black, in the dark dwells only the evil creatures of night and death.
MACTAGGART’S CHURCH
FAR TO THE north, there was concern for Morgund and Seward who had not been heard from since their departure. Some word should have come back from clansmen visiting Edinburgh, but they heard nothing. Perhaps the two were part of the contingent into England, or had instead been captured, or worse. Malcolm and Sienna spoke much of this and had scarcely slept because of it. Malcolm decided to talk to his friend Stony and seek solace from the man. Although he was not noted for his wisdom, however Malcolm’s friend was a wiser man than many thought, it was those others, who judged him, who themselves lacked foresight. Dawn was newly broke and the air was crisp as Malcolm left. From a tree covered hill he looked down at an island in a placid loch. Being outside cleared his head, for which, he was thankful. Often lately his nights had been plagued by worry He saw a neighbour, upon waving, the man waved back. Work was slack with the harvest in, he decided to visit the neighbour. Audrec who was from somewhere far off in the north, had come to etch out a living amongst them though Malcolm didn’t know why.
“How goes it Malcolm? It is an early start you have to be out.” Audrec’s speech was high pitched, being worded differently to that commonly practised in these parts.
“It is early, yes. I go to see Hamish Stony field.”
“Oh, visiting your friend.” Audrec displayed a smile, he was a cheery fellow. “You must have left home before first light.”
“I did.”
“Why is it he is n
amed Stony?” asked Audrec.
He might not have heard him say stony field, but he lived nearby, it should be obvious, or if he had heard, just not put it together, it was said of foreigners, that they were notably dense. Malcolm realized he must make some allowances for this.
“He is named Stony because he is not the only Hamish. His fields are stony and that distinguishes him. Another has a ruddy birthmark and so is called Ruad and the third is simply Hamish. Do you like life here Audrec?”
“It is good, I get on well with the folk around.”
This was a pleasant respite for Malcolm, a nice change from stifling walls and from focusing on Seward and Morgund. In answer to Malcolm’s worried face, the conversation turned to them.
“Have you news of Seward and Morgund?”
He had dreaded this. “No.”
“MacCainstacairt is a villain,” Audrec said.
“Yes.”
“It is a difficult matter.”
This conversation dispelled Malcolm’s calm. “Yes, I must be getting on, Audrec.”
“It was good to see you Malcolm.”
Malcolm walked away. He would have liked to ask the foreigner why he had left that place he was from, but good manners prevented him. It was probably a hellish place as most foreign places were. Up and down, and on, and on, his steps took him to a place where it was said years before a Viking a spear and some helmets had been found. So, far from anywhere. Unlikely, he had thought, at first, near to some graves but where no church abided. However the place was beside a navigable river and this probably explained the find. A church must have been here once and they had come to sack the church. Thereafter the church had been removed to a safer site. He looked out across a stone-flecked peat bog. In the distance slightly higher was Stony’s croft, set amongst the stony fields which named him, cows grazing.
His friend met him at the door. “Come in Malcolm, sit. You’re in troubled waters.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s on you plain. Speak. Go on.”
“Let me a breath and I will.”
Stony kept urging him, “I’m listening.”
“I am going to see MacCainstacairt.”
“But it is dangerous.”
“They might be held by him, that is, if they still live. They are not heard of in Edinburgh. MacCainstacairt erected a solid wall of men to intercept them, I fear they did not make it past.”
“What can you do?”
“If I cannot save them, at least I can make sure of their fate.”
“Do you seriously think you can do anything?”
“I trust I can.” Malcolm was affronted by Stony’s comments.
“Do you?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“There is nothing you can do, Malcolm. Be honest with yourself. MacCainstacairt is unlikely to admit to murder. More likely he will murder you.”
“I may find out what has happened, and put MacCainstacairt in a dungeon for this misdeeds.”
“More likely he will put you there and kill you.”
“My mind is made up Stony.”
“So you have come to say good bye.”
“No, to obtain advice.”
“Don’t go!”
“I will not rest until I have word. Perhaps some trick will allow me to get close to MacCainstacairt and discover the whereabouts of Seward and Morgund. I might hear from one of MacCainstacairt’s retainers what has happened.
“It appears a sound strategy if you are committed to it.”
“But what trick?” Malcolm asked.
“Yes, Malcolm, that is an important question.”
“Help me form my ideas, Stony.”
“Give me some time to think Malcolm.” They were silence for a while. “I have it,” Stony said at last.
“What?”
“I hear MacCainstacairt looks for favours from Alexander. In furtherance of this aim he is erecting one of the new Romish churches to bring the highlands in line with the lowlands, so far as worship goes. Nominate yourself religious, seeking enlightenment in Roman ways and wanting to help. You would have the Roman protection and working on the building site you would surely learn something. Many of MacCainstacairt’s clansmen will be there and MacCainstacairt could not spend so much money without making many appearances to check progress and to guard his investment against slackness. When you find yourself surrounded by the friends of MacCainstacairt obtain entry to their confidence and learn more. If what you want known is not revealed, kidnap one of his men and force an answer.”
“I knew your brilliance would provide an answer. When do we go Stony?”
At that Stoney’s eyes shot upward, “Did you say we?”
“Yes.”
Stony thought about it. “I’ll go with you,” he said finally.
They worked out details. Malcolm went home with a more bold step looking forward to helping his adopted son Seward, and of course doing something for Morgund. However Morgund came of unlucky fold who it was hard to help. Most likely poor insignificant Morgund would be the last of his breed.
Thereafter Malcolm and Sienna argued. Sienna was in a state of panic. She didn’t want Malcolm to proceed with what she considered an ill made plan. “You are alike to boys playing at a game. This is no game, and MacCainstacairt is a killer. His brain would make two of yours Malcolm.”
Malcolm was much displeased with this last statement, and quickly fled her bitter tongue. When she came to find him, he was sitting on a bank near a stream. Malcolm liked this place, she knew. White stones and pale bark of the swaying willow trees gave him a relaxed feeling. They were pleasing to the eye, often he sought them. They were calming to his mind.
“I am sorry Malcolm,” she said. “If you must do this, I am behind you, but please be careful. Do you realise how dangerous MacCainstacairt is? I don’t wish to insult you, but these things must be said.”
“Yes, I do know the danger.”
“Do you really?”
He nodded and embraced Sienna when she enfolded him within her arms. She apologised once more and took hold of him tightly, telling him she had only spoken as she had because of the fears she held and because she loved him.
Although winter’s blight came upon the land it didn’t dissuade MacCainstacairt who initiated steps towards building. Malcolm and Stony toiled away on the building site. Their appearance was commented on hardly at all, for not just a few spectators came to see this new development, some from far away. Workers took advantage of rare silver on offer, there were even masons from England itself.
MacCainstacairt told anyone who would listen about his misfortune in being here, how he could be sharing experiences with Alexander in England, but the church must be built and only he could see to its good management. Constructing the Church in later years would gain him the name MacToisach, son of the Church, in Gaelic. MacCainstacairt, not yet known, as the church builder, was still MacCainstacairt, but building the church that would name him MacToisach. And the name Mac Toisach would be corrupted almost immediately by others into MacTaggart. This became a fairly common family surname, MacTaggart.
MaCainstacairt was solid, tall, with a beard carefully groomed, red tinted in the sun. He bore the airs of a nobleman, which he was not by birth. He had advanced himself by winning the allegiance of skilful swordsmen who admired him for his ruthless ambition, for his worthy intelligence, for his own worthy swordsmanship.
With all these qualities, and more, a quality crucial to a successful fighter, luck, and far sightedness, and perhaps more than far sightedness, unnatural perception. His reputation for awareness beyond the ordinary, was still being formed in the minds of men. Of humble origin, he had seen the path to promotion as being at the expense of Morgund’s family. He knew his plan would find favour with the Margretson, the ruling house. Deal with their enemy and enrich himself at the MacAedh’s expense.
Malcolm threw himself into work winning renown. Presently MacCainstacairt afforded Malcolm some co
mments of greeting and one day asked him where he was from.
“Part of Ross, which extends to the coast,” Malcolm replied.
“MacAedh’s roost.”
“But not now, I hear the little scarecrow is no more, which is good. To be released from his line is joyous. Dithering fools who took misfortune with them wherever they went. Ross will be in better hands.”
Malcolm hoped MacCainstacairt would enter into a conversation. MacCainstacairt instead watched him closely sorely testing his integrity by closely examining his eyes for a falsehood. Malcolm likewise clever, thought of how he would feel if he freed Seward. This gave outward truth to MacCainstacairt. MacCainstacairt relaxed and smiled, complimenting him on his work. Thereafter MacCainstacairt recalled something he had first noticed in Malcolm’s eyes. Malcolm was questioned by some of MacCainstacairt’s men, as to his reason for being there and watched.
MacCainstacairt was ever alert for danger, was said to have a sixth sense for discovering it, which contributed to his gaining support The other workmen kept silent around them avoiding them if they could, and Malcolm felt a pang of nervousness, which intensified when he heard that MacCainstacairt had sent someone to find out about them.
MacCainstacairt was thorough and wise, Malcolm realised, with a well earned reputation for sensing danger. That night, Stoney, warned Malcolm that the end had come. They must leave.
There was nothing to connect the two, few were aware he was Malcolm’s close friend, they had arrived at the building site separately, they would learn soon however. Stoney had a plan. Malcolm didn’t like it, but MacCainstacairt was about to set irons upon Malcolm. Word was out. Still Malcolm had to be convinced.
The next day Stony came into camp from the road which led into Ross, thereafter telling someone Malcolm’s wife had ran away telling, this fellow Stoney told, to keep the secret, as the culprit was a friend, and he didn’t want him endangered. Word travelled quickly and Malcolm got the message by mid morning. He left in haste and everyone laughed at his departure. Malcolm’s leaving under these circumstances did something to divert attention away from his fixation with MacCainstacairt, whom Malcolm had often talked about. They talked of the incident and not how Malcolm’s eyes had always followed MacCainstacairt.
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