Blood of the Clans Ch. 10

Colin MacDonnell rode with haste through the countryside towards the attacking MacRae's. It was his duty to watch them and ride back when they started to march for Donan. Having lived, travelled and hunted in the area all his life, he knew the best route to take and where he could safely watch them without being spotted. It was his deepest hopes as he prayed, that he could live through this night and return to his wife and family, alive and well. He'd seen the results of battle with Claymores and battle axes and wished to God, he didn't become one of the fallen. The visions of body parts hacked and cleaved from his body, left him with a fear and dread at being caught.

He rode to the spot where Glendon and Gordon MacDonald had ambushed the two MacRae scouts and upon arriving, the sound of flies buzzing about the corpses, plus a pair of dark stains on the ground, let him know he was at the right hill. He tied his horse as far away from the site of death, not wanting it spooked by the smell, then climbed the high, grassy hill. A large, yellow gorse bush provided adequate cover for his needs, as he looked down into the valley below and saw the troops. They were camped for the night and Colin relaxed, knowing he would live to see another sunrise. Pulling out some dried meat and an apple, Colin settled down for dinner and a night of listening to voices in the dark.

The shrill chirping of birds woke him up, just as the sun shone on the peaks of the Kintail Ridge. The sky was cloudless and bright, allowing him a clear view of the MacRae's, as he watched them assemble. He made another count of how many men were on foot and the number of riders, as well as how they were laden with equipment and arms. When they started marching, he was sliding backwards away from them, then ran to his horse and rode back for Donan in haste.

Within the hour, he was riding along the loch, feeling the cool mist rolling off the surface of the water. He shouted out the password, "Lady Anne," to lookouts he knew were posted in the trees for ambush, to inform them who he was and not get taken down with an arrow. Riding up the bridge to the castle, the heavy oak beam was lifted and the gate opened, as Colin galloped through. He handed his horse to a soldier, as he quickly made his way into the keep. The Lairds, Grayson and Garreth, were sitting with the captains around the smooth, polished table in the dining hall discussing plans, as he approached.

"My Lairds, the time is upon us. MacRae has assembled and is marching. I make their numbers at three hundred on foot, one hundred riders and all loaded down wi' equipment and arms. They should make Donan by the stroke of mid-day at their rate of travel." Colin relayed to them all.

"Well done, Colin, sit and eat and enjoy drink before they arrive. Ye'll need yer strength tae lay yer Claymore intae a few of them." Grayson said to him, welcoming him to sit and join them.

Colin smiled and sat, digging into the food still on the table. A soldier brought a cup of warmed cider and a plate of oatcakes to him and Colin drank and ate heartily.

"Captains, if what Colin says, is how they approach, they'll suspect nothing and will march intae our hands and intae our swords and arras. We can'ne be gi'en more of a chance at a victory than this. Our men are in position in the woods, in three areas of attack, stopping any retreat. If our impostors can make them think everything is okay in the castle, they'll march right in, allowing us tae surround them." Garreth explained, using his finger on the table, to map out the plans once more.

Grayson stood and raised his glass to them. "Clansmen, I stand proud wi' ye in defending the honour of Lady Anne and Eilean Donan."

"Aye," came a resounding reply from everyone.

"Tae Lady Anne, tae Donan and victory." Glenn MacDonnell added and drank his drink down.

"Then tae battle and our thirst fer blood. May the blood spilled, no be yer own." Garreth saluted and they all finished their wine, slamming the cups on the table, the room echoing with the sound.

Garreth, Grayson and the others left the hall and joined the men who were preparing the last of the ammunition to the posts. Powder and shot were stacked close to the cannons, arrows piled high by each archer position. The men had donned the MacRae's clothing and stood in obvious positions to be seen, while many more would remain undercover of the wall, until it was time.

A rider was sent out after a few hours to locate where the MacRae's had travelled to so far. It wasn't long, before he rode back fast and dismounted, letting the leaders and captains know to listen for marching men soon. The men stayed far back from the path they would take, making sure not to give themselves away. Fear was mixed with anxiousness, as they waited to spring their trap. A lone rider appeared at the bend of the hill, taking a long look at the castle and surrounding area for enemy troops. He spotted their birlinn, still moored along the shore and took it as a sign everything was okay. He turned and rode back, never knowing more than twenty arrows were trained on him at all times.

In less than half an hour, the sounds of the ground being pounded, rang up the loch, echoing from between the high peaks. It didn't take much longer, until the first horses appeared, ridden slowly to stay close to the troops for protection. The men looked tired already from the four hour march along the glen, carrying arms and equipment. The first group sat quietly and watched the procession pass before them, as did the second. James rode at the lead and looked to the castle, as he came to the bridge. He raised his right hand to the men and hailed them. A MacDonnell in disguise raised his arm in kind and hailed in return. As MacRae scanned the faces, none appeared familiar.

James called a halt immediately and looked around quickly. Leith knew what had set him off as well and called the alarm quietly, to be passed back along the lines. "Look sharp, this could be a trap."

The entire formation was stopped and some readied themselves for attack. James looked to the castle again and called for Blair to come. Two soldiers ran and got him, hands bound, and dragged him up to the wall. With two knives digging into him, one in his stomach, the other ready to remove his manhood, he looked out to his father. James recognized his son and hailed him again. Blair returned the hail with a shout. James heard it and readied his horse to leave, Leith saw it as well.

"It's a trap. Tae arms!" his call went out.

The proper signal of a waving arm wasn't given and James knew there was trouble. He turned and ordered his men to make ready for attack. No sooner did the men start to move and a terrifying mircanth arose from the woods, as the men were given the order to attack. The first volley of arrows dropped men and beast in great numbers, as they remained clustered. The second volley dropped less, but the men were spreading themselves out and using shields now. Once again the arrows flew and men fell in dozens. Before they could prepare for attack, Garreth signalled the charge and two hundred men charged out of the woods, swords and axes swinging.

With the element of surprise, the attack over-whelmed the MacRae's and the front lines dropped in vast numbers. Arms and legs were severed in a flash by heavy steel, honed razor sharp, slicing through them. Battle axes parted heads from shoulders and cleaved huge gashes into bodies, leaving men barely alive enough, to see themselves die in horrible agony.

The ground became stained in blood and viscera, as men were slain with brutal force. Both sides took losses in the first wave, then Grayson called for the next charge, lessening the opposition's numbers quickly. Glenn saw some of the troops trying to retreat to safety and look to out-flank his clansmen. He dashed out with his men and stunned them with their savage, guttural screams.

Men rushed at each other, swords and axes, dirks and spears thrusting and slashing into one another. Blood sprayed and fountained wildly over everyone, coating most in a crimson wash of pulsing, battle paint, as severed arteries spewed the life-force from the men. They soon became unrecognizable from one another, as their features became disguised in a mono-chromatic pattern of blood red.

Every man became engaged in a conflict of battle, the men in the castle abandoning their posts to get into the fray. The combined clans pushed the MacRae's back to the shores of the loch, leaving them no where to stand. James knew he couldn't oppose anymore, only defend, his chances of winning taken away. Knowing if he continued, he would be annihilated completely, he signalled his flag bearer for a cease fire flag to be raised. Garreth saw the signal flag, and called a cease in battle to his flag bearer and allowed James the chance to declare his intentions.

Soon all battling stopped, as orders were given. Garreth and Grayson held their swords high in a signal to halt their men. James walked towards Garreth, Grayson crossing to join them.

"MacLeod, MacDonald, I call a cease tae the battle. We've both suffered heavy losses and we need not lose more. If ye agree, I'll take my men and return tae Glencoe. Do ye concur?" James asked breathlessly, blood dripping from his hand and sword.

"I'd rather wipe ye from the land completely, but I'll concur. Yer men'll sheath their weapons and position themselves along the shore. Ye and two Captains will hear our terms. If anyone breaks it, ye'll all die where ye stand. Do ye agree wi' this MacRae?" Garreth asked him fiercely, the rage of battle still flowing through him.

"I agree, MacLeod. I ask that my sons and men be released as prisoners and return wi' me, as well." James added, hoping to save his kith and kin.

"They'll remain as our prisoners and face trial fer their deeds. They murdered innocent people, and burned their bodies. Fer that, they'll face the King, and ye'll be held accountable as well, MacRae." Garreth told him firmly and decisively, leaving no room to barter or bargain for them.

James looked at the castle, knowing his offspring would remain behind. He looked at Garreth and Grayson and waited for terms. His men backed up to the shore when ordered and left him and two Captains standing with Garreth, Grayson, Glenn and several MacDonnell's. Dark, red steel was surrounding them, pointing decisively at their bodies, as Grayson took a few steps closer.

"Ye'll return tae Glencoe and remain there. Ye'll disband yer men and return them tae their lands and homes. Ye'll no raise another force, until granted by decree. Whatever is deemed just by his Highness fer yer actions, ye'll abide by them. Are these terms accepted by ye?" Grayson told him, with as much power as he could, driving the point home that they had won and the MacRae's were vanquished.

"Gi' me time tae confer wi' my captains, MacDonald?" James asked them, looking from one to the other.

"Aye, ye can have till the count of one hundred before ye gi' yer answer." Grayson replied and Glenn started to count.

James huddled with his men and discussed the terms in whispered tones.. Before the count of fifty could be reached, he turned back and replied, "Ye ha'e my word and we'll

return and do as ye've commanded.

"Then yer free tae gather yer dead and wounded and make yer return." Garreth told him, backing away in a show of acceptance, lowering his sword to his side..

The clansmen gathered en masse, arrows at the ready, swords and axes, all red with blood, ready in their hands to shed more, as they watched the MacRae's follow the directives. Soon, the scene was cleared of MacRae clansmen, as they made their way back again, along the shores of Loch Duich, to the passage leading to the Kintail Ridge. The dead and wounded clansmen of the MacDonald's, MacLeod's and MacDonnell's were gathered and taken to the castle, to await a befitting send off for them.

Once down to Gleann Lichd, the MacRae's stopped and tended to the wounded, deciding what to do with the large number of dead they had to carry. In an effort to lessen their load, the dead were piled together, the bodies covered with dirt, hacked and scraped with swords and axes from the ground. Stones were piled on them in a large cairn, marking their place and giving them a semblance of a decent burial.

The MacRae's stood in silence, paying their final respects to the fallen clan members, then James spoke his final words to them, as he turned back to face Donan.

"My clansmen, mark my words. I'll avenge yer deaths wi' revenge on the MacDonald's and MacLeod's. Our clan will ha'e Donan. This is my oath tae ye."

James mounted his horse and gave the order to march back to Glencoe. The silence that fell among the men as they walked, wore on them like a shroud of shame. By halfway, more than twenty more men died from their wounds and once again, the procession stopped to bury the dead and mark it with another cairn. The deaths filled James with rage at his losses, tempering him to seek retribution in any way he could against his foes.

The scene at Eilean Donan, was just as sombre and filled with sorrow, as the bodies of the fifty seven fallen clansmen and the sail of Braedon Stewart's birlinn were loaded aboard the MacRae's re-claimed birlinn. Robert MacDonald gave the order to row and set sail, as he looked back at Grayson and Garreth, along with the hundreds men standing on shore. He gave a weak wave in salute to them, a similar one in return came from the men.

Grayson drew his sword and held it high, Garreth and the others quickly following suit. They held, as the boat sailed into the gleam of the morning sun on the water, then they sheathed their swords. Grayson turned and walked away from the others, his thoughts weighing heavy on him. Garreth knew what was on his mind and walked with him.

"Garreth, I'm worried about Braedon and what he'll say when they return tae Tioram. I feel he'll end his allegiance wi' us and we'll be wi'out his aid."

Garreth knew that was what was on his mind. He had no words ready to assuage his fears, as he himself was feeling the same. The loss of the Stewart's could make things difficult for them in the battle to come. Their numbers were far less than what the MacRae's had, even with their losses.

"I'll ha'e tae put my faith and hopes in Arabella, that she can convince him tae stay wi' us. If she can'ne do it, then yes, my fears are yer's, we'll lose them. We'll know by the morrow, when Robert returns, if they're wi' us or not."

"Aye Garreth, Arabella has a way wi' him, I seen it before I left. I just hope it's enough tae persuade him. I just pray tae God, it is."

The two walked along the bridge and down along the shore of the loch, pondering the course of action to take, should they be left without the Stewart's support.

A few hours later, the signal was given that a sail was spotted entering the mouth of Loch Moidart. No one recognized the boat at first and dozens of men armed and prepared for attack, before a few men re-called it as the one taken from the MacRae's. They stood down in alert and watched the boat make its way through the sandbanks, exposed during the shallow waters of low tide. After it beached, Robert was first to jump down and walk towards the men.

"Is Laird Braedon still here?" he asked the men present.

"Aye, he's wi' Lady Arabella in the hall." the soldier relayed to him.

"I'll need ye tae bring a cart down, tae bring the dead up tae the castle. I'll leave ye in charge, I ha'e tae see Laird Braedon and Lady Arabella at once."

Robert watched the men go for a cart and had the sail passed to him. He stood looking at it and then the castle, knowing his news would not be well met and feared what Braedon Stewart would do when he heard. Coll, Griffin and Loman Stewart disembarked and stood with Robert, knowing how distraught their father would be at losing his eldest son.

"I should be the one tae bear the news tae my father, Robert. I feel he'll listen tae his son and take the news better, than if ye tell him." Coll told him, the look of faint relief coming over Robert's face. Robert passed the sail to Coll and they slowly made their way to the castle.

The men were bringing a cart to the boat, as they entered the castle grounds and went into the keep. Arabella and Braedon were sitting by the fire talking, as the four made their way in to see them.

"Ah, my boys are back. Where's Cameron?" Braedon asked smiling.

The smile faded slowly on Braedon's face, as he saw them come closer and saw the look on Coll's face.

"Father, Cameron's dead. He was killed in the battle by the MacRae's." Coll wasn't able to say it eye to eye to him, his own sadness bringing him close to tears, at the telling.

Before any explanation could be given, Braedon's rage exploded from him. He turned to Arabella in a start and looked at her for a second, before he fumed at her.

"What kind of oath did yer brother, Grayson swear tae me, Arabella? What kind of man swears an oath tae protect a man's kin and allows one tae die? Is this what kind of allegiance I'm tae hold tae? I gi' ye aid and ye can'ne abide by my request?"

Arabella choked back her tears, and sat in shock at hearing Braedon attack her brother and her clan. She was just about to retaliate in her defence, when Coll broke in again.

"Father, it was'ne Laird Grayson's fault. He had'ne e'en arrived by then. Laird Garreth had gi'en us the order tae stay on the far shore, until we were told it was safe tae come o'er. Cameron disobeyed him and made a charge tae the castle in our birlinn. He was killed trying tae cross."

Coll's words stunned Braedon at first, trying to put the event in perspective. He looked at him and then to the others, looking for assurance he was being told the truth. Even without words, the faces and eyes told him it was so and he had to face the fact. He turned again to Arabella, her face no longer set for defence, but one of compassionate understanding, that the loss was hard on him.

"Arabella, I've lost my son." Braedon's sorrow quickly replacing his rage. "My God, how many of my family must ye take?" as he turned his face skyward, before looking back into Arabella's eyes. "My dear Bella, please fergive me, fer me thinking of Grayson and yer clan, like that." By the time he finished his words, his eyes had overflowed with tears and spilled down his cheeks.

Arabella could see the torture in his eyes and face and reached out and held her hand to his cheek softly.

"Oh Braedon, this is a terrible loss, my love. I'm torn inside fer ye, I am." her own tears quickly leaving trails down her own cheeks.

Braedon held his hand to hers for a moment and then turned back to his son.

"Where is he? I want tae see him one last time before we send him off." he choked the

words through his sobs.

Coll's tears flowed hard at seeing his father's grief and he began to sob heavily. The only thing he could think of doing, was hand his father the folded sail cloth.

"What's this Coll?" Braedon asked sobbing, wondering what it meant.

"It's all that's left, father. Cameron lies at the bottom of Loch Alsh, along wi' sixteen men."

Braedon tried to digest the words his son spoke to him, the reality of the loss now becoming clearer.

"He's no among the dead? No body tae send off at all?" his questions becoming his answers, as the four stood and shook their heads to him.

The over-whelming grief took hold of Braedon and he sank to his knees in tears, no longer caring about how he looked to them. Arabella held him and cradled his head to her body, comforting him as best she could. With her eyes, she bid the others to leave and allow him to grieve with her.

"Braedon, we'll pay homage tae yer son, just as if he came home tae ye. Yer loss is hard, he was'ne tae see battle, I know. I'll find out what happened, my love, and we can make arrangements tae gi' him a warrior's funeral. He'll be gi'en the highest honours we can bestow upon him."