Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (48 page)

Upon Meara’s death, the elders had named Gillian their leader and continued to argue over whom she should marry. Now at only nineteen, Gillian stood on the barbican tower, the leader of her clan, at least in name, and the approaching army was within hailing distance.

Even though Eadoin had doubted it, she still couldn’t help but wonder if Niall MacIan sought revenge. Were the MacIans attacking? Did Niall plan to seize Brathanead to give it to Malcolm’s natural son?

She remembered the revulsion she felt a year ago at the thought of making Fingal MacIan the head of their clan. She hadn’t cared who fathered him, his mother killed her da. Gillian would never accept him as her laird.

Fingal MacIan rode silently towards Brathanead, accompanied by his brother, Laird Niall MacIan, a substantial contingent of MacIan men-at-arms, and an even larger number of the king’s men. They had battled terrible weather for nearly two weeks, much longer than the journey would normally take, and were not far now. Rather than stopping for one more night, they pressed on, riding into the night to reach their goal.

Fingal was not remotely happy about the current state of affairs. It was difficult to believe that only a little more than a year had passed since the MacLennan army rode against Duncurra and his life had changed forever. Malcolm MacLennan and Fingal’s own vile mother had informed him that Malcolm had sired him before she married Alastair MacIan, destroying Fingal’s very identity.

The unholy pair told him that they were attempting to conquer Duncurra for him, regardless of the fact that he had wanted no part of their scheme. Malcolm, in his greed, attacked anyway and the decimation of his own clan was the end result. Niall ransomed the men who lived through the battle but the MacLennan losses were profound nonetheless. Fingal wanted nothing more to do with the MacLennans, ever.

Then King David II had summoned both Niall and Fingal to court. They’d travelled to Edinburgh shortly after Epiphany. Although the king indicated that the issue was urgent, he still made them wait for several weeks after they had arrived before he summoned them for an audience.

When they finally stood before him, the king didn’t mince words. “Gentlemen we have a problem. Clan MacLennan is without a clear leader.”

Niall responded, “My liege, I understood that a relative of Malcolm’s, Duncan’s sister Meara, was given the leadership.”

“She was, and while we had our doubts about the suitability of a woman leading a broken clan, we were inclined to wait and see. However, the infighting continues and Lady Meara is dead.”

“I am sorry to hear that, my liege. What happened?”

“The information we have is vague. She died suddenly. When that happens one can never be sure it isn’t murder. The fact remains, the MacLennans have no leader.”

“Aye, my liege. I understand,” Niall said. “What do ye wish from the MacIans?”

“A weak clan without a laird can change quickly from a simple annoyance to a dangerous liability. Now that the power struggle may have turned deadly, we cannot ignore it. Your brother, Fingal, is both a strong warrior and as we understand it has a valid claim to the leadership of Clan MacLennan.”

Fingal stepped forward. “My liege, under the law I am a MacIan, not a MacLennan. My mother was married to Laird Alistair MacIan when I was born.”

“You forget yourself, sir. We are the law. If we say you are a MacLennan, then you are, but there is more than one way to make you Laird MacLennan. When Meara died, her niece, Gillian, was nominally given the leadership of the clan until a suitable husband could be selected. We are happy to help them in this. It is our wish that you marry her. Thus you will assume leadership of the clan both as Malcolm’s natural son and as Gillian’s husband.”

“With all due respect my liege, if Laird MacLennan sired me, would that not make the lady in question a relative? A cousin of some sort?”

“A very distant relative Fingal. We believe that she is your third-cousin. This is certainly not a close enough relationship to prohibit your marriage to her. Many royal marriages occur between cousins.”

“Sire, ye are asking me to marry the daughter of one of the men responsible for the plot against my brother.”

“No, Fingal, you are mistaken. We are not asking you to marry her. We are commanding you to marry her and be a stable leader for Clan MacLennan.”

Fingal bowed his head. “I understand, my liege. What if the lady refuses to give her consent?”

“She will greatly displease her king and will be sent to a cloister. She has two younger sisters. I would prefer that you marry one of Duncan MacLennan’s daughters, Malcolm’s only legitimate heirs. To do otherwise could create more dissention. Still, while a marriage to one of the chits would be ideal it isn’t necessary. I am naming you Laird MacLennan in any event. If they presume to refuse their king’s command and do not accept this decision, you will instruct Clan MacLennan that my full wrath will fall upon them.

“You look less than pleased by this prospect, Fingal. Be warned, if you are unable to accomplish the task we have set for you, we will not be pleased with Clan MacIan either.” The king shot an accusatory look at Niall. “Laird MacIan, have you already forgotten the solution which we provided to your financial woes several years ago?”

Two years earlier, when Clan MacIan was facing financial ruin, King David had arranged a marriage between Niall MacIan and Lady Katherine Ruthven, a wealthy lowland heiress. Fingal almost laughed at the memory. Initially Niall was as displeased with that arrangement as he himself was with this one. However, Niall soon fell very much in love with his wife. Their marriage has become quite a happy one and in addition to their foster son, Tomas, they recently had a lovely baby girl who was just beginning to toddle. Fingal knew King David would always have Niall’s unswerving loyalty and as he expected, Niall offered his full support, much to his chagrin.

As a result, now Fingal rode ever closer to a fate he would rather avoid. They were almost within hailing distance of Brathanead when Fingal noticed a lone woman standing on the barbican tower among the MacLennan guardsmen. If he was not much mistaken, this was the woman who would be his wife.

The voice of a guardsman rang out through the frigid air, “Halt and state yer business, MacIan.”

His brother, Niall, rode to the forefront calling, “Eadoin, I am here under the command of our king with a message for Clan MacLennan. Open the gates, we mean ye no harm.”

Gillian MacLennan called, “The king’s messenger needn’t enter Brathanead to deliver his message. It’s the middle of the night. Tell me the message now, or come back at a reasonable hour.”

“I am the king’s messenger, Lady Gillian, and I will not have a shouting match with ye. I have assured ye that we are here on peaceful matters. Open the gates now.”

“Pardon me Laird MacIan but the last time MacIans and MacLennans met it was definitely not peaceful.”

“And that was no fault of mine. Yer laird betrayed me. I am not here for revenge.”

“Nevertheless, ye can deliver yer message and be gone.”

“I’m sorry Gillian,” Niall persisted, “ye must let us in. Ye have known me since ye were a wee lass. I promise ye as long as the MacLennans do nothing to provoke violence, there will be none.”

“Aye, I know ye. My laird and my da are dead because of ye. Deliver yer message!”

Over the last few days, Fingal had learned the captain of the king’s guard was not the most patient of men. He clearly had reached his limit. Urging his mount forward the captain yelled, “Enough of this. Lady Gillian MacLennan, in the name of King David II you will open Brathanead and receive the king’s messenger now or suffer the consequences!”

As Fingal watched the lass on the wall verbally spar with his brother he couldn’t help but admire her. It took a very bold woman to try and force her will on a representative from the king. Now she fairly bristled with anger. The plaid had slipped down off her head, the wind whipped long strands of her dark, thick hair, and her jaw was clenched rigidly. Was she going to let the king’s guard make good on the threat? Surely the lass had more sense than that.

When she failed to answer immediately, the captain demanded, “I want an answer now! What will it be Lady Gillian?”

“Fine, I will open the gates, but there is no reason why Fingal MacIan needs to enter.”

Fingal chuckled quietly. “This should be interesting.”

Niall rewarded his sarcasm with a quelling stare. Niall hated defiance and clearly Lady Gillian was pushing his temper.

In a tone, only slightly more tolerant than the king’s captain had used, Niall demanded, “Lady Gillian, in the name of King David II, ye will open the gates now. I have promised ye a peaceful meeting, but I will remind ye, ye are in no position to set any conditions. I will decide who enters Brathanead. Is that understood?”

~ * ~

Gillian turned to Eadoin and the other guardsmen on the wall. “We have no choice if we don’t want to bring the king’s wrath down upon us.”

Eadoin nodded grimly. “We could defend against them for a while, but ye are right. It would ultimately be the ruin of Clan MacLennan.”

Gillian sighed heavily. “I suspect the faster we comply, the faster the message can be delivered and they can be sent on their way.” Eadoin arched an eyebrow at her. “Never mind, I know that is wishful thinking. This is about me, isn’t it? That’s what ye didn’t want to say earlier.”

Eadoin’s expression was full of sympathy. “Aye, Gillian. When the king’s guard accompanied the MacIans, I suspected it might be about ye.”

She had no choice. She called, “Aye, Laird MacIan, I understand. Tarmon, raise the portcullis!”

Eadoin asked, “Where do ye wish to receive them?”

“Honestly? In the courtyard, but I suspect Niall will object and I’m already tired of bending to his will. Bring them to the great hall.”

Gillian hurried down the steps, across the courtyard and into the great hall. Servants had been roused from their beds and were preparing to receive their unwelcome guests. Unwelcome? There was a time when the MacIans were always warmly welcomed. Niall had completed his training at Brathanead when Gillian was just a girl. She remembered him being strong and handsome. All the older lasses mooned over him. While Fingal didn’t train here, he had been a guest quite a few times too. Very tall and broad shouldered, with dark hair, he too was handsome and also had his share of mooning maids. She remembered Fingal as being warm, friendly, and affable, whereas Niall was quiet and brooding. She shook her head. None of that mattered anymore. Even if they were once considered friends, they weren’t now.

Eadoin entered the hall moments later. “Lady Gillian, they are riding into the courtyard. They will only be a few minutes. Ye should sit in the laird’s chair at the refectory table. I want ye surrounded by guardsmen and a table between ye and our visitors. I have sent for the elders—they will need to be here. They should flank ye.”

“Thank ye, Eadoin.” He was a good leader and a great warrior. He would have made an excellent clan chief, but he was already married to a lovely woman named Alana. They had a wee daughter named Kiora and Alana was expecting their second child in May. Eadoin and Alana were perhaps her dearest friends.

“Gillie, don’t react to anything they say,” Eadoin warned her.

“I don’t see how I can do that.”

“Just listen to them. If ye don’t understand something, ask for clarification, but for the love of God, don’t commit to anything. When MacIan has delivered his message, tell him ye would like to confer with yer advisors. We’ll go with the elders to yer solar and discuss whatever it is. Gillie, for the next little while, icy water has to flow through ye.”

“Aye, Eadoin, I understand.” Gillian moved behind the table and had just taken her seat when the main doors to the hall opened. Guardsmen preceded the visitors into the hall and as Eadoin had promised they assumed positions near her. Nolan and Archie hurried into the hall, joining her at the table, just as Owen and Daniel, both of whom resided within the keep, emerged from the tower stairs. Gillian’s mother and her sister Fallon also slipped into the room from the tower stairs.
Well good news certainly does travel quickly
.

Niall MacIan entered, flanked by his brother Fingal and the captain of the king’s guard. A substantial number of his men followed them, but more remained outside.

Niall bowed. “Lady Gillian, thank ye for receiving us at so late an hour.”

“There is no need to thank me Laird MacIan. I wouldn’t have welcomed ye if I had been given any choice in the matter.”

Daniel, who had taken the seat to her right, leaned in and whispered, “Gillian, lass, don’t antagonize the man.”

Niall scowled at her. “Lady Gillian, I understand ye are upset, but I bear a message from yer king. Regardless of how much ye dislike me, ye will hear his message. Is that understood?”

“Aye, Laird MacIan. Get on with it then.”

“King David sends his condolences on the death of yer aunt, Lady Meara. As ye are a very young woman, he is concerned about yer ability to lead this clan, especially considering the events of the last year.”

“She doesn’t lead this clan on her own. As the elders of the clan, we guide her,” Owen said.

“Aye, that we do. And we will ensure she marries a man who will be a solid leader,” added Nolan.

Niall nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m sure the king will be glad to hear ye have been so ably guided until now. However, he has selected the man he wishes ye to marry, who will be the laird of this clan.”

Gillian clenched her jaw. She suspected she was not going to like what she was about to hear but she could not stop herself from asking, “And who is the lucky man the king so dislikes he would saddle him with me and a clan in disarray in the bargain?”

Niall actually laughed. “I don’t think the king views it as a punishment, but he wishes ye to marry my brother, Fingal.”

Marry Fingal MacIan? That simply could not happen. “And if I decline his generous offer?”