FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ravens, the ominous  Celtic symbols of  misfortune and death,  rustled their black wings as they soared over the castle. Their caws seemed to issue a warning.  A gruesome omen for a wedding day, Brianna thought.

"And yet there is nothing to be done," she sighed.  Before the sun swept across the sky to give way to the moon, she would be Robbie's bride
. The thought that Ian would be forever lost to her cut thru her like a knife. A flood of tears hovered behind her eyelids, but remembering her MacQuarie pride, she fought to maintain her composure.  She would not go before these Campbells with  red and swollen eyes. "Fie, I will not!"

Looking  at the sky
through the open window, she vowed she wouldn’t give in to despair and self pity but would try to keep up her spirits.  Robbie had a sweet nature, a gentleness about him that gave her assurance that she would not be an abused wife.  Surely she might have come to worse with an obstinate or brutal husband.  Somehow she would forget Ian and try to be a good  wife.  Even so, her face paled and her hands grew cold as two young women she knew to be servant girls entered he chamber.

"We are to tend ye, mistress," the tallest one said, showing Brianna more deference now that she had been named before all as a Cambell bride.

"Anything ye need, ask us freely," said the other.             

They led her to the bath house where a tub of steaming water  awaited.  A pile of thick woolen towels were spread on an airer to warm before the fire.  In a daze
, Brianna stood still as they stripped her of her gown.  How quickly the morning was flying by.  Had her father received the message that on this day she was to wed?  Was he even now on his way to Argyll to witness the ceremony?  If by any means he was cheated of seeing his daughter bound in marriage, she knew there would be trouble. Her marriage was meant to avoid any blood shed.  There had been too much of that over the years.

Brianna sighed with pleasure as the
pleasantly warm water surrounded her. She lay back as the women soaped her hair, trying to relax, but it was impossible.              Even the soothing cocoon of the water could not slow the pounding of her heart or make her forget the coil that was forming in her stomach. Over and over again she thought how it should be Ian she was marrying, not some gentle boy. Oh, how different her emotions would be if......

Before long two other servants arrived struggling under an armload of clothing in a veritable rainbow of colors. She was told that the
Campbell chief desire that
she
choose her wedding grown.

So, she thought, I may not choose my groom, but
I am to be given at least some consideration. Forcing a smile, determined to be amicable she fondled each garment to scrutinize it with a discriminating eye.  At least Duncan was not being stingy.  Indeed each piece of material was finely woven and artfully done. Some, of a much finer wool than came from MacQuarie looms, were craftily decorated with thread that Ian called embroidery. She could nearly imagine in her mind’s eye a woman’s form bent to the task, sitting before a hearth fire. She had a difficult decision to make, but finally decided on a gown of pale yellow with threads of blue and green. A white
tonnag
pinned with an elaborately worked  brass broach of gold and red corral; a belt  of leather and several pieces of brass intermixed giving the semblance of a chain, emphasized the trimness of her waist and completed her attire. As was the custom, she was barefoot..

"Oh, 'tis a fine sunny day, a perfect day to be wed."

"And ye have a fine looking laddie to wed."

The young women chattered and laughed with as much exuberance as if
they
were to be the brides.  They combed and brushed her hair until it shone with a red fire, explaining  that  unmarried lassies bound their hair and wore a snood but married lassies left their hair to hang free. As a symbol of her newly-wedded state, therefore,  Brianna's side hair was braided, her back hair left to flow down her back.             

"Ye look bonnie, mistress!"

"As lovely as a fairy queen!"

Brianna stood unsmiling before the large
, polished steel mirror, studying her reflection.  Her father would say that her face was too pale, would be worried that she looked so thin.  "Stand tall and proud, ye are a MacQuarie!" he would have said.  Pinching her cheeks to bring a touch of color, squaring her shoulders she prepared herself for the inevitable.

She walked
hesitantly down the stairs Brianna to be greeted by a large throng of guests.  Proudly she moved towards the middle of the hall, feeling totally alone, ill at ease with these people not her own. She would not let them cow her, she vowed.  Holding her head high, she faced them boldly, like a chieftain's daughter.

"Kinswoman!"  In an exaggerated gesture of affection
, Duncan took Brianna's hands, pulled her to him and kissed her, first on one cheek then the other.  "At last ye bring an old mon's dream to fruitation. How anxious I am for the seeds  to be sown in yer belly."  He ignored her blush, motioning Robbie forward.               

"
Duncan!  No!  Ye canna.....!"

An old man Brianna had not met but who she had seen constantly in
Duncan's company, pushed his way through the throng, hissing insistently in the laird's ear.  An angry roar from Duncan silenced him but the mournful, tortured look on the man's face did not go unnoticed by Brianna.  She looked at Duncan questioningly. He only shrugged his shoulders. 

"Cameron has long been opposed to this match b
ut I hae no' listened to him." Duncan laughed. "He is, I fear, becoming an addled ole mon." Taking a large cup from the hands of a young male servant, he held it forth to Brianna. "Drink!"

The cup was adorned with a sprig o
f rosemary and colored ribbons and  looked like some pagan offering. As she took a sip of the spiced wine, Brianna  could not help but wonder if some ancient Celtic tribal bride had held such an object in her hand. Handing the cup to Robbie she smiled as he voiced aloud her thoughts.  It seemed the cup had been handed down for generations, all the way from the first chieftain of the Campbell Clan.

"And I will  gi' it to my son when he weds," Robbie exclaimed, to be rewarded by a hearty slap on the back from
Duncan.  With a nod of his head, Duncan signaled the merry-making.  Rising to his feet he flung back his chair, leaped upon it, and raised aloft the bridal cup as  a whirling, high-stepping jubilant, laughing group of revelers gave vent to their joy.

Suddenly
, the sharp toot of a trumpet interrupted the merriment. A huffing, puffing sentry bounded into the room, pointing in the direction of the north.  "The
MacQuaries
!  They are here!  They've come by 
biorlin
, across the loch.  They are marching this way.  Listen to the bagpipes!"  The ominous hum sounded like a swarm of angry bees.

"My father!"  Hurrying to the window, Brianna looked out, lamenting the boldness that had brought her here.  A fear gripped her heart that fa
r from halting the warfare her willfulness had provoked an attack.

It was dark in the tiny dungeon. Only  the glow of torchlight cast a faint flicker of light through the iron grate, illuminating the  dismal prison. Ian was in a foul mood as he huddled in the folds of his plaid, trying to fend off the chill. Pulling the edges of his breacon tighter, he grumbled loudly, pausing only when a soft noise disturbed his solitude. The faint moan of faraway bagpipes cut through the stillness. Bagpipes!  Ian held his breath, atuning his ears to the wail, cursing his uncle  as he realized he was not imagining things.  So the MacQuaries had come just as he had known they would.  But this time Duncan could not place blame on anyone but himself!  Were there a battle the burden of the responsibility rested on  the Campbell Chieftain and not on a Macquarie.

Rising from the ground Ian p
aced back and forth across the cubicle's hard earthen floor  feeling like a trapped rodent!  He had to get out!  He had to do something to divert the disaster that he knew was going to ensue.  Somehow!  Someway! 

Gripping the d
irt walls, forcing a foothold, he tried  to climb up the side of the hole he'd been flung into, only to slide back down each time he was within an arm's length of the top. His only reward was blistered and bleeding fingers.

Taking off the leather belt that held the sporran around his waist, he tried another approach, looping it through the bars of the iron grating.  Again he failed, watchi
ng in abject frustration as the belt missed its mark again and again.  It was as if the walls were closing in on him.  Never had Ian felt so totally powerless in all his life. 

"Like
being gelded," he swore aloud. "Duncan knows well the way to torture me." The drone of bagpipes was getting louder, taunting Ian with his own helplessness.  What was happening up there? Was Duncan going to anoint his longed-for marriage with blood?  "Brianna!"  Above all he wanted to make certain that she was safe.

A sound!  What was it? The guard? Ian
looked up expecting to see the familiar hulking form, but saw instead  another face looking down at him. One as dear as his own visage. "Aulay!" The little man had returned. "Get me out of here!"

"Shhhhhhh!  There are still two guards in the passageway.  I'm so small that I was able to pass by them without their noticing my wee physique, but if ye are no' careful they'll be at my back."

"Can you get the key?"

"Nae.
I think Duncan has it wi' him.  He knows ye hae many friends within the castle. I fear I'm going to hae to dig ye out, loosen the  dirt around the grate."  The staccato noise above his head told Ian that Aulay was doing just that.  Heeding the dwarf's words, Ian remained silent until his curiosity got the better of him. He had to ask.

"What's h
appening above?  Tell me, mon. Are the MacQuaries going to instigate war?" Ian whispered as softly as he could.  "Brianna, is she...?"

"Safe for the moment.  Let us hope the MacQuaries hae it in mind to call off the wedding. Yer lassie is in peril, but not for her life.  For her soul!"

"Ye found something out about Robbie on yer journey. What?" A chill swept over Ian as he had a premonition of what Aulay was going to say. Robbie was a changling. One of the fairyfolk, exchanged for a human child.

"Aubra,
Duncan's sister has three children! Daughters all. She sent no male child to foster wi' her brother. Robbie is no her son."

"Then whose......?"  What lie had
Duncan perpetrated on the clan and why?  How did Brianna MacQuarie fit in the puzzle?  Something sinister was being hatched, but what?  And why?  And how?  There was no time to find out now. Above all the ceremony had to be stopped until Ian's questions were answered.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
             

"The MacQuaries are outside the walls!"  The tension in the room was taut as a bowstring.  Every clansman's eye focused
on the weapons hanging on  the wall, poised, waiting for Duncan's nod.

Br
ianna’s heart turned over in her breast. Hands clasped tight, she moved to the window and leaned over the stonework balustrade in an effort to identity the clansmen beyond a doubt, having but faint hope that it was other than her clan. The red-haired, broad shouldered man at the head of the small army left little doubt. Sunlight winked a glow from his sword, the red and green hue of his tartan beneath gnarled armor marked Lachlan as surely as any badge.

“Father!” Her eyes were imploring as she looked at the man who but a moment ago welcomed her as part of his family. “Please!”

Duncan paused for a long moment then broke into a smile. “I hae no need to quarrel. Perth! By the laws of hospitality, mon, invite them in for the ceremony." He patted Brianna on the shoulder. “In fact, they hae arrived just in time.”

Perth
followed his chieftain's bidding, opening the door to an angry swarm of MacQuaries.  Lachlan moved ahead of the others, ignoring everyone else in the room as he jostled and shoved his way to Brianna's side.  "Are ye all right?  Are ye unharmed?"  Her nod assured him that she was.  Only then did he unleash his chiding tirade, his face turning purple with rage.  "Ye must be daft, daughter!" Never before had he ever raised a hand to her, but he shook his fist now threateningly.  "I should take the back of my hand to ye.  Headstrong!  Stubborn!  Willful!  All these things ye are, Brianna Nic Lachlan!"

Brianna recoiled in the face of his tongue lashing, knowing she deserved his sensor and worse. She should never have come here! If it was possible, she had aged at least a year in just the past few days. She deserved his anger.  There wasn't a thing he could say to her that she had not said to herself.  It was true that  a selfish, naive, bold young maiden had left Ulva to seek love  and adventure
, but now she knew the painful truth, that life often held disappointments and heartache beyond human control.  Sometimes the greatest show of love was in giving a loved-one up.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Father."

"Yer sister told me why ye had come.  Och, I ne'er thought any seed of my manhood would go behind my back.  Ye defied me!  All for the sake of a lad."  Folding his large arms across his chest his expression softened as he asked, "And did ye get yer way?"

All the heartache she felt at that moment was mirrored in her
face. "Nae!  But I agreed to marry Robbie of the Campbell Clan and I will hold to my word."

Having watched the fiery reunion between father and daughter from a distance,
Duncan now stepped forward.  "Yer lassie has been most amicable.  She agreed there was no sense in delaying the ceremony since she was already within the bosom of my clan."  There was an edge to Duncan's voice.  Though the words were inoffensive there was a hostile tone to his voice. "It's glad I am that ye are here, Lachlan MacQuarie, or ye would hae missed seeing her joined forever to my nephew."

"Oh.........would I now!" 
Lachlan stood nose to nose with his old adversary. To Brianna's eyes they looked much like two hounds snarling over a bone as they sidestepped each other. 

"Aye. But ye
are
here!"  Duncan initiated peace by slapping Lachlan on the back.  "And there is a wedding to put on...."

Before anyone could offer any word of protest
, Duncan took Brianna by the hand, hurrying her out to the stables as the mumbling throng followed close behind.  It was Highland custom for bride and groom to ride pillion on the back of a strong gelding, thus Brianna mounted behind Robbie for the short ride to the castle chapel on the other side of the courtyard.  On the back of the horse, in a leather pouch was placed the marriage money, guarded by two strong Highlanders who walked on each side of the animal.  A musical accompaniment of musicians playing harp flute and bagpipes proceeded.

Robbie's hands were gentle
as he helped Brianna dismount. "I'll be good te ye, I promise I will," he said softly. "From this moment on we'll share our life. Try to be happy!"

Brianna forced a smile.  "I will!" Entering the chapel
, she stood tall and proud as she took the lighted candle the priest held forth.  The holy man asked the standard questions as a matter of formality; if she was of age, if she swore that she and he betrothed were not within the forbidden degree of consanguinity, if her parents consented to the marriage, if the banns had been posted and finally and most importantly of all, if she and her groom both gave free consent to the match.

"Then come forth daughter, to be join
ed in this holiest of vows." 

Brianna walked unsmilingly down the aisle, l
ooking neither right nor left. Sobs choked in her throat, suffocating her, yet she somehow held them back so that none would hear.  "Oh, Ian!  Ian!"  Clutching the folds of her gown, she somehow made it to that spot where Robbie and the priest awaited.  There she knelt at he future husband's feet in a gesture of submission.

"Rise!"

Together they faced the priest and repeated their solemn vows.  The priest sprinkled her with holy water and recited an intricate Mass. The ceremony unfolded so quickly  that Brianna hardly remembered  what she had said.  Babbled words in a foreign tongue.  And all the while she fought against crying, biting her lip so hard that it bled.

The joining of right hands concluded the transfer of a gift, Brianna's virginity for Robbie's protection and loyalty.  Robbie then slipped onto three of his new wife's fingers, one after another, the blessed ring that signified marriage, a blessed circle of gold that would protect
her from assault by demons.

The groom was the active party, bestowing not only the ring but also the customary gifts and presenting a charter of the marriage settlement along with thirteen coins as prescribed by Salic Law. The coins went eventually not to the bride but to the priest, the poor, or certain assistants, for the bride was not so much bought as invested with the mission of giving alms on behalf of the couple.

“With this ring I thee wed, with this gold I thee honor, and with this dowry I thee endow.”

"A token of love and fidelity," the priest intoned.  It was then the chapel doors were thrown open as the assembled guests looked on in surprise.  Ian Campbell stood at the back, his face a mask of wretched misery.  He had come too late! 
Duncan's snide grin told him so, even if the finality of the ceremony did not.  It mattered little now just who Robbie was or to which family he belonged. Whoever he was he  was Brianna's husband now.  All he could do was wish them well and say a final goodbye. Marriage was a bond that no man could break.  Marriage was a sacrament, the most precious of all.  All he could do was watch silently as the final phase of the ceremony was enacted.  The groom was the recipient of the priest's kiss of peace. The groom then  bent to  transmit that kiss  to his bride. Ian knew if he lived to be a hundred years old he would never face such devastating unhappiness as he did at that moment.  It was as if a part of him had died. As his gaze met Brianna's, he read the same sadness  in her eyes, such a poignant stare.

A blare of trumpets announced a different phase of the celebrating as the
guests left the chapel.  A show of generosity to those of lesser rank, including servants and  villagers. Coins were thrown about in abundance. Brimming  tankards of fiery whiskey were passed to all the guests.             

"So.....and did ye think to burst from my dungeon and carry off the bride?" 
Duncan's question was sarcastic, but he made no move to imprison Ian again. In truth, why should he. All had gone precisely as he had wanted.

"That was my intention.  I would have, had the ceremony not been completed."
Ian's eyes were hard as steel. "Who is Robbie?  He is not your sister's lad.  Auley traveled north and gave inquiry."

"Ye will find out soon enough!  But I w
arn ye.  Nephew or not, I willna brook any more of yer defiance.  The lassie is lost to ye.  Accept that, Ian and hae done wi' it."  Turning his back, Duncan stalked off to join the revelers.             

Ian pondered his uncle's words as he sat at the heavily laden trestle table. His uncle had sounded defiant, but not angry. What
was
to come?  What was the truth that was to be revealed?  He was anxious to know, hopeful that he had been wrong in fearing for Brianna.  Perhaps his curiosity was the only thing that enabled him to get through the meal.  He could not eat a bite, but was it any wonder? Even the fragrant, frit-studded bannocks held no temptation for him.

After a dinner there was
dancing, as a whirling, high-stepping jubilant, laughing throng of revelers gave vent to their joy.  Brightly lit torches illuminated the steps of the dark, winding staircase that led to the  bridal chamber. A chattering, drunken throng accompanied the newly married couple up the winding stairs and to their room.

The key element to the wedding was the blessing of the bedchamber and the bed to dispel any curse that might have compromised
the couple's fertility and to wipe away any taint of female adultery. Robbie would never know how close his cousin had come to giving the priest concern.  So many times he had nearly made Brianna his, and now he was torn between being thankful that he had not taken he virtue and disappointment that he had not been given at least one lovely memory to cherish.

As  b
ride and groom took their places in bed under the watchful eyes of a circle of close relations, Ian nearly lost all self control.  He had been a fool to come this far?  What had he expected?  For Brianna to throw herself into his arms, begging him to take her away. It was too late! What a wretched fool he was  to stay and witness his own heart breaking!

"Ah, in this very bed there will the seed be sown that will mend my heartache." 
Duncan looked on with a seemingly lecherous eye.  He seemed to be waiting expectantly.

Once witnessed together in bed, the couple was to be left alone to consummate the marriage. The scene in the nuptial bed, which was a crucial element in marriage, symbolized what was at stake; power in and over private life. The
Highland belief that honor, marriage, and a person’s very being was for the sake of the clan. The betterment of all. 

"But can I live with this?  Can I?"  Ian breathed, feeling an empty spot in that place where his heart had been?
             

The priest talked of death or annulment prior to the nuptial; the surviving party to the espousal was not free to remarry a brother, sister, or other relative of the other party. Relations by affinity
were taboo to the fourth canonical degree and relations of consanguinity were taboo to the seventh degree. 

"Have joy of each other....."

The guests started to leave, to give the newly couple time to be alone, but before the room emptied the chamber door was nearly unhinged. "By the love of God, I canna let ye do this, chieftain or no'.  I canna!  I canna!  It is the greatest of evils."  Cameron stood in the torchlight, his eyes shining with determination.

"B
y God, close yer mouth old mon!  Dinna speak words that will mean ye death."  Duncan started forward with the intent of stopping Cameron from speaking, but Ian blocked his way. "Tell us, Cameron.  Quickly.  What evil?"

"The lassie and the laddie.  Both from Lachlan
MacQuaries loins  were born."

"What?"
Ian had expected that something was wrong, but he'd never expected this. Surely the old man was mistaken. "It can't be."

"But it
is
."  The silence was oppressive as the gaping crowd of people  stared at Cameron in disbelieve.  "I was there.  I saw it happen.  Robbie is no Campbell.  He is a MacQuarie.  One of three children born.  The lassie and laddie that were just wed can no' be allowed to bare a child, for they are related by the closest of bonds.  They are brother and sister."