Authors: Kara Griffin
Joy reflected from the faces of both
the Gunn and the Mackay clans. There was a time when neither clan would be seen
with any member of the other. Many clansmen would rather brawl until there was
enough blood or bruises to show for their effort than be seen with their enemy.
This day, all strife was set aside for prosperity. Though the elders loved to
war, old grudges were far too insignificant to let come between two of the most
powerful clans in the Highlands. Each clan held their enemies at bay, though
most lived within a stone’s throw of their lands. Keeping peace was a
never-ending battle and weighed heavily on King William.
The Mackays and the Gunns celebrated
the joining of the two clans, uniting them in a betrothal and setting in place
a long-standing truce. A truce moreover coveted by King William himself, who
attended the lively celebration. His presence assured the cooperation of the
Gunns and Mackays. This was the first step in gaining peace of the northern
clans and bringing tranquility to the realm. The fete was a long time in
coming, according to the Highland Council.
If the Gunns and the Mackays came to
an alliance, most of the clans would follow suit and peace would reign once
more throughout the land. King William wanted all his people’s devotion and
support. He had enough problems with the lowlanders, and didn’t need to worry
about those who lived a world away far up north.
No one was certain why the war
between the Gunns and the Mackays began; for it happened before many of the
members were alive to witness the atrocities. Fortunately, the Gunn’s land
didn’t border Mackay’s, but they had a sort of ally of the clan sitting between
them. The Ross clan attended the festivities to bear witness that the truce
came to pass.
Though other clans who weren’t so
resigned to the joining, planned and plotted against his majesty. The
opposition swore one day to take matters into their own hands and refute
William’s right to rule. With their plan enacted, all they needed to do was
cause a wee bit of dissension to bring about the cooperation of the northern
clans. Only then, could they take back the crown and give it to the rightful
ruler.
It was a fine day for a celebration
since all honored Saint Swithin. The clans prepared for the feast, each making
food to share, and set up games for the children. One child in particular was
excited for the festivities to begin. She ran betwixt clan members, almost
knocking a few off their feet in her jubilation. Though the wee lass had no
idea the importance of the day’s events, she was too caught up in all the
attention she received. Aye, they spoiled her and their future would be froth
with difficulties. None believed ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ when it came
to that particular lass.
Grey Gunn knew Albrey would be
excited, and as was his da’s directive, he was put in charge of seeing to it
that she didn’t hurt herself or misbehave. Albrey Mackay just turned five
summers and looked like a sweet angel, but Grey knew the truth. She was no
angel, but a faerie sent to torment him. Faeries were nuisances who caused
havoc, and someone Grey’s age didn’t have time to be so patient.
In the weeks past, he’d watched her
get into mischief time and again. The sweet lass’ long springy golden curls
swayed as she ran to chase a stable cat and startled one of the soldier’s
horses. Grey had his hands full, and still, he wouldn’t disobey his da’s
command. He’d watch over her, assuring she was kept safe during the
celebration. It wasn’t an easy task for one of only ten winters, but he’d do
his best.
Grey knew the importance of the
day’s event, and what Albrey meant to both clans. She was his one and only, the
only woman he was destined to care for. Albrey was pretty with her long flowing
hair and shining bright blue eyes. But Grey didn’t take notice of such things;
for a lad his age only cared about who could spit the farthest or who ran
faster. Lassies were not so important. Despite the fact that he had been told
his duty, he would follow orders.
Though Grey’s role within the Gunn
clan was of most import, he would become laird one day. Everyone treated him as
they’d treated all the lads in the clan. Warriors often teased younger lads and
played pranks on them, entertaining themselves at their whim. Grey wanted to
run and practice swords with the other lads, but he also knew his duty.
Besides, he was far better at swordplay than the rest of the lads his age and
he had to put aside foolish, childish wants. He might as well watch over the
faerie he’d be betrothed to later this day.
Albrey chased after a baby goat, who
barely escaped capture by his small horns. In her pursuit, she sang in the most
angelic voice: “
Saint Swithin's day if thou dost rain, for forty days ‘twill
remain …”
If she caught the poor goat, she
would ride the animal and cause a ruckus loud enough to reach the heavens. God
help him then, because they’d both be punished. With that, Grey ran at
break-neck speed to get her to stop chasing the animal.
What he needed was a diversionary
tactic. He sang the next verse: “
Saint Swithin's day if thou be fair, for
forty days 'twill rain nay more.”
But the lass didn’t heed him nor join in
the rest of the song.
Her squeals of laughter sounded when
she ran behind a tree.
“Albrey, lass, look,” he said,
pointing at a butterfly behind the smithy’s hut. She immediately made an
about-face turn and started in his direction. Now it was Grey’s turn to be
chased. She could never catch him because he was far too fast for a slip of
lass like her.
As they ran toward the hut, Grey
dropped on a patch of soft grass adjacent to a tent and rolled to his back
laughing. Albrey wouldn’t be thwarted though. As soon as she reached him, she
pounced. Grey all but had the air taken from his lungs by the force of her wee
body hitting his chest.
Grey pushed her off and shoved her
face in the grass for a second or two, just to teach her a well-needed lesson.
She squealed with laughter, but he wouldn’t have mercy. Albrey tried to kick
him, yet he was able to keep her from fleeing by holding on to her ankle.
“Och, Grey, let the lass up.” His da
lifted his cup, his eyes merrily watching their play. Laird Gunn, a seasoned,
hardened warrior didn’t often look so content. He always attended clan business
and took a serious manner. As was the case this day, his father sat with other
laird’s discussing political matters.
For a moment, Grey admired the look
on his da’s face. Grey did bear a resemblance to his da, given he had the same
almost-black hair and cool gray eyes. Many a christening had been delayed
because the priory had a fire when he’d been born. His eyes hadn’t changed by
the time they got around to christening him, and his ma had said she’d chosen
his name because of the color of his eyes.
One day he would be as strong as his
da, a warrior who could defeat any enemy. His ma remarked how tall he’d gotten
in the last months and that he would soon have muscles to rival his father’s.
He wanted to be as strong as his da.
“You’ll make the lass piss if ye
don’t cease tickling her,” came from Albrey’s mama, sitting next to his very
own. “Albrey, are ye behaving? You aren’t tormenting poor Grey, are ye?”
“Oh, nay, Mama, I’ve been good.”
Once her mother turned back to the adults, Albrey set her teeth on a target.
Grey smiled at his future wife’s
family and didn’t pay her any mind. Albrey was fair-skinned like her ancestors
and certainly not sweet-tempered. Her ancestors, like his, came on massive
boats, bringing their people to a new land. Intent to raid and return to their
homeland, most had stayed on, content to live on the lush lands of Scotland for
all their days.
His lass didn’t much look like her
mother or father, nor her brother and sister, with their dark hair and brown
eyes. It was whispered the lass bore traits of Mackay ancestors. The Mackay
clan came to Scotland much around the same time the Gunns had—all proud of
their heritage and lineage. Oftentimes, his da would allow the man of God to
read from the tome of when they had first arrived on the land. Grey always envisioned
the men to be mighty warriors who scared off their enemies with clever tactics
and the wit of force.
He attentively watched her family
mingling with his own. Albrey’s brother, Branford, was quite older and stood
with the other important people attending King William. Her sister, Esmereld,
was to marry the year next and attended with her betrothed, Marvin, one of the
king’s loyal vassals.
“Ow, lass, ye bit me.” He pulled his
hand away and looked at the teeth marks on his palm. “Why’d ye do that?”
“’Tis what ye deserves, Grey Gunn.”
She pulled at his tartan, yanking it to take his attention away from the hurt.
“I am sorry, Grey, did I truly hurt ye?” She looked ready to weep.
“Nay, you could never hurt me, honey
bee.” Grey softened his voice to soothe her. He sat up, bringing himself to his
knees.
Before he knew what’d happened,
something smacked him in the face. The little heathen threw food at him. He
licked the sweet-tasting cream from his lips and laughed. Even at the lass’
young age, she could make his stomach content. Each time she’d visited him, she
brought gifts. She’d told him it was to tempt him to accept her, or so that’s
what her mama had told her to say. He wasn’t about to turn down a tasty gift,
regardless of the fact that he had no choice but to accept her. Grey had been
taught to do his duty and so he resigned himself that she would be his.
“What have ye made, Albrey? ‘Tis
tasty … mmm.” He licked the sweet cream from his lips.
“Mama helped. I made you a sweet
cake. Da brought some powder when he came home and I know ye likes ‘em.”
“Is that the Gunn brat there with
our lass?”
Both Albrey and Grey looked up to
see Kenneth MacHeth take the seat next to Albrey’s father at the table which
had been set up near their tent. Grey nodded in greeting as he’d seen his da
do. He felt Albrey pressing against him and he set an arm around her back.
“All’s well, honey bee. Why are you
afeared?” Whenever she was afraid, she’d try to hide behind him. This wasn’t
the first time she’d done so. He remembered the day when she’d accidentally
tripped the stable master and ran to him for protection, though it wasn’t
needed. Everyone adored her and would rather be flayed with a reed than have
her hurt or upset.
Her wee hands pulled his head
forward. She whispered so softly, he bent further to hear. “’Tis the MacHeth.
Aye, Grey, see his eyes … He looks at me like I done wrong.”
“’Tis your imagination, lass. He’s
your father’s ally and loves ye as do all the Mackays, and this day so shall
all the Gunns.” Grey looked at the tall warrior, whose face was covered with a
light haired beard. Most of his features were hidden and he couldn’t tell what
manner of man he was.
She shook her head adamantly. “Nay,
I tell ye … When my da isn’t looking, he’s ireful. He does not like me.”
“Of course he likes you. Why do ye
say that?”
She lowered her gaze. “He doesn’t
like me for he told me so.” Her mouth turned and she looked like she’d cry.
“Shhh, lass, don’t weep. I promise I
won’t let him look at you that way.” Grey took hold of her hand and gave it an
assured squeeze.
“Aye, what shall ye do? Will ye slay
him for me, Grey? I’d like to see that.” She giggled but then moved even
further behind him when MacHeth glanced their way.
Grey turned around, setting his
hands on her small shoulders, and smiled. “I’d slay him if that’s what ye
want.” She would be his wife when she grew to womanhood, and he couldn’t stand
by and allow her distress.
She knocked him backwards when she
threw herself in his arms. “Oh, Grey, I love ye. You know why?”
“Nay, why, honey bee?” He pulled her
wee hands from around his neck, knowing his face had brightened to that of a
shy maiden. Grey didn’t want anyone seeing her fond affection for him,
especially his friends who would tease him unrelentingly.
“Ye are my very own protector. But
no one can protect me from him.”
“Lass, have you told your da you’re
afeared? Mayhap he can calm your worries.”
“Och the MacHeth is the monster
‘neath me bed. Oh, nay! He told me not to tell.”
Grey found himself frowning. “Tell
anyone what?”
“I’m not supposed to tell, Grey, not
even ye.”
He gripped her arm, holding fast to
the fabric of her frock and looked back at MacHeth. “Albrey, lass, tell me.
I’ll be your husband one day, and you should tell me everything. You will start
obeying me.”
With a tug to her arm, she freed
herself. “You’re not my husband yet, Grey Gunn. I shan’t tell ye.” The little
mite stuck her tongue at him and then proceeded to stick her thumb in her
mouth. Aye, she was young and had much growing to do before he’d take her to
wife. Hopefully, by then she’d outgrow her impish behavior.
“You’re never going to obey me, are
ye?”
She pulled her thumb from her mouth.
“Very well, he spoke ungodly words … Aye and then I heard him bespeak the
secret.”
“What secret?”
“The MacHeth told me not to tell. He
said he would spank me ere I did. I didn’t mean to listen, Grey, really I did
not. Och he bespoke the words and no one was there but I. That’s when I learned
…”