Blood of the Clans Ch. 32

He turned to look back and decide if he should turn around and drop her off. They had rounded the point and were making good speed, his need to see the Stewart's out weighing that thought. The gently rolling hills along the coast, gave way to higher peaks inland, the abundant fields of heather blooming so profusely, as to turn them purple. The beauty aside, Sloan scanned the hillsides with scrutiny, as did the other men, each looking for any signs of their foes.

The hills began to fade away and flatten, as they approached the end of Lismore. Coming closer, the towering castle came into view in the distance, making a tightening in each man's gut. The birlinns were sailed ashore and beached in the calm natural harbour. The birlinn being towed behind Sloan was untied and grounded, as Sloan and four others sailed on towards Stalker. There was no turning back in their quest and each man looked at Sloan, counting on their faith in him to bring about his plan.

The lookouts were hailing the alarm to those inside, the clansmen quickly rushing out the door and down the steep flight of stone stairs to the grounds surrounding the castle.

Sloan held his right hand high and open palmed, letting them know he was coming in peace. Braedon Stewart stood closest to the shore, his Claymore ready in his hand, regardless, Griffin and Coll at either side of him with their broadswords gripped tight in their hands. Foster and his son, Loman were close by and archers were ready with arrows pointed at all the Fraser's, as the birlinn pulled close to shore on the starboard side.

Sloan tossed a line out and it was caught by a clansman and pulled tight. Blain tossed the aft line to another and soon the birlinn was tight to shore. Sloan jumped from the side and made his way to Braedon. Stopping in front of him, he crossed his fist over his heart and bowed his head, before speaking.

"Laird Braedon, I'm Sloan Fraser, chief of what's left of the Fraser clan. I wish tae talk tae ye aboot grave danger coming tae ye soon. Will ye talk wi' me?" Sloan asked him, showing him a concerted expression for approval.

"What danger do ye know of Fraser?" Braedon asked, wanting to know if it warranted his full attention.

Blades and arrows were lowered, but held in check, as they waited for Sloan to disclose what he knew.

"There's an army assembling no far from here and they are ready tae go tae war wi' ye. They want tae go tae war wi' many clans and take their castles and lands."

Braedon heard what Sloan had told him and weighed it against what he'd been told by Foster and Eamon, who was now mending well and told Braedon of all he knew.

"Who's leading this army that wants tae go tae war wi' me?" Braedon asked, wanting confirmation of facts.

"A man named MacRae leads a growing army of men. He has the Douglas', MacDougall's and MacLean's siding wi' him noo. He'll no stop either. He has the backing of the Earl of Huntly and support from the English. Can we talk in privacy, Laird Braedon?" Sloan asked, wanting to relate everything face to face with him and not in front of the masses assembled.

"I know of MacRae and what he's done. Bring one man wi' ye and we'll talk of what ye know." Braedon told him, a look of guarded curiosity written on his face.

Sloan took Blain with him and they followed Braedon and the others up the steep staircase, glancing up and seeing arrows still aimed at him. The level of protection and the alertness of the clan, had Sloan considering what Braedon already knew. Once inside, the dark spaces were lit with torches, the few windows casting slashing, silver streaks through the blackness. The hearth was cold, the air remaining warmer through the night now, as spring wore on and summer almost upon them.

Braedon motioned for everyone to sit at the hall table, as he took his place at the head. Sloan sat beside Coll, to Braedon's right, while Blain sat beside Griffin on his left. Foster and Loman sat beside each Fraser keeping watch, should they try anything.

"How do ye know of these things Fraser?" Braedon asked, as he waved a servant over to bring drink to the table.

"They came and asked us tae join wi' them not a month past. James MacRae, along wi'

Andrew MacDougall, Harlan Douglas and Jacob MacLean, came tae oor settlement on Loch Etive, by the Falls of Lora. They asked my father, McCauley, tae join wi' them and after he foond oot what he was tae get fer his service, he said no. Before anything else could be done or said, he was run through his heart, wi' a dirk, by Jacob MacLean. My uncle, Blain," Sloan gestured towards him, "severed his throat when we met up wi' them later, getting oor revenge fer my father's murder."

Braedon listened to Sloan carefully, putting all he knew, together with what he was being told and matched the stories for truth or not. So far, Sloan's information rang with similar accounts of what he knew from Eamon and locals who had overheard talk. He mentally gave Sloan some leeway to accept what he said was factual. Sloan could see that acceptance in Braedon's eyes and felt surer of himself in bringing off the events he had made up in his mind, as truth.

"Two days past, twenty of us were off hunting deer and anything else we could catch. We came back tae find three birlinns on the shore, wi' no one in them. We made oor way tae the top of the ridge above oor settlement and watched MacRae and his men, along wi' the other clans, slaughter every man, woman and child. They cut my unborn child from my Maglyn's belly and crushed its head, then slit her throat. A hundred and twelve of my clan are gone Laird Braedon, massacred in the most brutal and vile ways that could be done tae a person. All this, because we refused tae join wi' them."

Braedon heard what had been done and was sickened by what he was told. He looked in Sloan's eyes and saw the pain he was unable to hide. Hearing about his clan, had him concerned now for his own clan's safety.

"When did they do this, Sloan?" Braedon's attachment to the pain growing in his own heart.

"Yesterday. When we saw what they had done, we knew we had no choice, but to flee fer oor own lives. We took their birlinns and sailed off wi' them. That's one of theirs that we came here in. We hid on Lismore, at Eilean Musdile, waiting until they left and we went back and got them. They had hung every man and did the Blood Eagle on them. They set spears in the groond and gored every woman and child on them. Stood them all in rows, so it would be seen by any who passed. MacRae wanted everyone tae know his power o'er everyone. Noo, we're all that's left." Sloan told them, making sure he detailed the vileness of it to get the best effect.

Braedon looked at Sloan and then to Blain, seeing the same misery on both their faces. He remembered his lookout telling him of sails coming from the north and east, joining up and sailing to where Sloan had told him, confirming his information. What troubled Braedon still, was what they were accused of doing to the Douglas boys two weeks past. To know and trust the man sitting with him, he had to know the truth about it.

"What do ye know of stolen birlinns, Sloan?" Braedon asked point blank, hoping to catch him off guard with it.

"We ha'e three that we just took, Laird Braedon. When a local farmer we met last night, told us tae hide them in an inlet, no far from his home, we foond three more under the co'er of trees and branches. He said he has nothing tae do wi' them, or the clans that own them. I know he was telling the truth tae me, because they were the same birlinns that were sailed by the same clans that came tae kill my father. Blain will attest tae that, so will more of my men ootside, if ye ask them. The farmer's daughter is ootside the noo, as well. E'en she'll state the same." Sloan said with a confidence that gave credence to his words.

Braedon looked to Foster and the others, before turning back to Sloan.

"What do ye know of three boys being drooned wi' their feet tied t'gether?" Braedon finally asked him, wanting to get to the bottom of the whole sorted mess that had fallen on him.

"Three boys drooned? Where was this, Laird Braedon?" Sloan replied, doing his best to look surprised at the news.

"Doon by Seil, off the coast. A fisherman caught them in his net and foond them wi' their feet tied." Braedon explained.

Sloan did his best not to give away a sign that he knew, but in his mind, he was trying to understand how the whirlpool had given up the bodies.

"We've ne'er been tae Seil. The farthest any of us has travelled, is the north shore of Loch Feochan." Sloan did his best to defend himself against the claim, but became curious as to what Braedon Stewart knew and was trying to get out of him.

"I ha'e a man here who'll swear tae God wi' his life aboot things that ha'e happened. He's told me he talked tae Harlan Douglas, who said ye's were tae blame fer the deaths of his three sons. He made claim that ye and yer clan were oot stealing birlinns tae join wi' MacRae. That ye killed his sons and took the birlinn that was meant fer him. Noo, ye tell me that ye ha'e nothing tae do wi' this. Who am I tae believe, Sloan Fraser?"

Sloan felt the statement hit like a fist in his chest. He kept his calm about him, while he seethed and roiled with confusion to keep his story straight. He looked at Blain briefly, before turning back to Braedon.

"I ha'e only one thought on that, Laird Braedon. Wi' all that they clans ha'e done so far, I can only think it was tae bring aboot a reason tae slaughter my clan, which they did. I don't expect ye tae believe me on my word, Laird Braedon. The happenings speak fer themselves, do they no? I'm no saying that yer man did'ne find they boys, I'm saying we had nothing tae do wi' it." Sloan countered and felt a shift in suspicion diminish from the table.

Braedon looked at Sloan again, judging his actions and demeanour, to decide on what was believable. He turned to Blain and saw the same conviction to Sloan's statement as well.

"So what do ye know of his plans, Sloan? What is MacRae up tae?" Braedon asked, feeling he needed to know what was going to befall his clan shortly.

"From what I heard from MacRae himself, he's amassing an army of clans. He has the backing of the Earl of Huntly and support from the Earl's relation in England. There's talk of hundreds of soldiers and cavalry coming, along wi' cannons and a frigate. They mean tae take Eilean Donan, Tioram, Camus and Stalker. Ye'll be either killed or live under the rule of whoever is made Laird of the castle by the Earl and gi'en a charter tae hold it and the lands aroond them. This is what is coming tae ye, Laird Braedon. It's come tae others and it's already come tae us." Sloan bluntly told Braedon what he knew of the plans, but made sure he directed the intent towards him, so he knew how dire his situation was.

Braedon looked at Sloan deeply, knowing what he was just told was true. His knowledge of battle and preparedness aside, he knew his situation to defend Stalker and his clan against such a sizable force was near impossible. To be told Tioram would come under attack, had his concern for Arabella come to the fore of his thoughts as well. Grief and self-disgrace were pushed away and he knew he had to sail immediately to her and warn her and then make sure the other clan members were warned as well.

"Hoo soon can this happen, Sloan? Hoo ready are they tae attack?" Braedon's concern for time now a grave issue to him.

"All I know, is that he has those clans I told ye of, if there's more, I don'ne know aboot them. I know that he's talked of numbers that are over a thousand men strong. I ha'e no idea about the Earl and the troops from England, if they are on the march or not. I can only say it won't be tae much longer, before ye see birlinns and armies surroonding the castle and laying siege tae ye." Sloan told him and saw the look of worry cross Braedon's face.

Sloan knew he had Braedon in the right position now to ask his request.

"Laird Braedon, the Fraser's may be only twenty strong, but we wish tae ally wi' ye and fight MacRae and his men along side yer's. Wi' ha'e six birlinns tae sail, twenty horses fer twenty men and ha'e arms enough tae fight wi'. We wish oor revenge on MacRae, but I'm not a fool tae think I can do anything on my own. Will ye accept oor allegiance, Laird Braedon?"

Braedon looked even more closely at Sloan, to gauge the strength of man asking him to join with him. He knew his own numbers were weak to stand against MacRae alone and more birlinns would greatly improve his chances in defence. He looked tae the others around the table, before he lowered his eyes for a moment. He lifted them and looked at Sloan squarely.

"I accept yer allegiance, Sloan Fraser and welcome ye tae join us noo fer some food and drink. Ha'e yer men come and join wi' us." Braedon told him, relaxing his posture to one of ease.

Sloan stood and held his hand out to Braedon, who rose and took him by the wrist.

"I swore on my father's name and then again on my clan's name, noo I'll swear it tae ye. By all that is right and just, James MacRae will pay fer his sins against me and my clan and we'll defend ye from him and all others."

Braedon saw the conviction in his eyes, knew it to be heartfelt and truthful. He looked about the room at his family, kin and clansmen and knew their lives were dependant on his decisions, his ability to do what was best. He looked back at Sloan, greeting him with his eyes, but still questioning him with his heart. He still held an unsettled feeling about him for some reason, one he wanted answered to his satisfaction.

The men came into the darkened hall, squinting to adjust to the transition from bright sunlight. Kegs of ale and mead were brought out and opened, while tankards were passed about the men. Kyla came straight to Sloan's side and held onto his cloak, finding her comfort in being beside him.

"Laird Braedon, this is the farmer's daughter I told ye of. This is Kyla Fraser. Kyla, this is Laird Braedon Stewart." Sloan said, introducing her to him.

Kyla curtseyed properly, making Sloan happy to see she had been raised with some manners. Braedon saw the display and smiled at her, giving her a slight nod of his head in recognition.

"An honour tae meet ye, Laird Braedon." Kyla said to him and then looked at Sloan.

"A pleasure tae meet ye as well, Kyla Fraser." Braedon told her smiling wider. "Find yerselves comfort and enjoy food and drink wi' my clan. I must see tae a few things and I'll join wi' ye's in a while." Braedon told them, then turned and went up to his chambers to think.

He sat pondering the events he was told and the actions he needed to take. Despite any personal feelings of guilt and remorse, he knew he had to see Arabella and warn her of the danger. In his heart, he wanted nothing more than to see her again and share once more, in what they had found together. His feelings for her convinced him more than anything, that he had to face down his own shame and disgrace and make amends to her and the clan. He set his mind to it, that tomorrow would be the day to go see her.

As the birlinns sat beached and empty, the five horsemen rode up and dismounted, the horses being taken to a grassy area to be tied to several small trees. The men sat in the morning sun, enjoying the peace and comfort of it, while less than two miles to the east, their hopes of protection and a chance to continue lay with Sloan. Just over four miles to the west, several men stood on the coast of Loch a Choire and wondered about the six

birlinns that they saw sail past and what they were doing on the tip of Lismore. Iain MacLean had suspicions he wanted answered, before the day grew any longer. His birlinn was loaded with thirty men and weapons within the hour and soon, the hull slid off the sand and into deep waters.

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"So, noo ye's can understand hoo twisted things became fer Sloan and his clan. Their trouble's don'ne seem tae end. Things happened that day, that set firm in Braedon's mind, he has tae prepare fer the worst his clan has faced. Sloan is also dealt wi' a further blow tae his spirit, as well. One that puts revenge, set deep in his heart and the hearts of everyone." Argus told them, seeing them absorb the precursor to a battle.

Whether they liked it or not, they were getting more bloody tales of clan history his style and Argus smiled happily, despite the constant rumblings in his stomach. He sipped his hot tea and enjoyed the moment to himself, as he thought of what had happened.