Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Ewan had anticipated, there was much grumbling and dismay at the early morning council meeting. And, of course, the members who had attended the meeting only a handful of days prior, complained bitterly at being requested to attend again so soon.
The slash on his chest was healing nicely, and Ewan was in good spirits, greeting them warmly as they stomped into the banqueting hall, blowing clouds of breath into the cold air, jostling each other for a place at the roaring fire.
“Are those icicles in yer beard, Hamish?”
The big man snorted. “I daresay, milaird. Ye had me up and riding in darkness tae be here at dawn fer this meeting.”
Ewan chuckled. “Nonsense, lad. ‘Tis near enough tae noon already.”
The serving girls buzzed around the tables filling tankards with hot honeyed-mead and providing a small mountain of bannocks and cheese for the councilors to break their fast.
Once all members were assembled – with the exception of Old Jacob who was unwell – they took their seats. The grumbling faded as Duncan stood to speak.
He did not mince words but told them blow for bloody blow what had taken place during the attack they had suffered at the hands of MacDonald’s men.
“We had set extra patrols, yet those who attacked us had somehow evaded our soldiers.”
There were nods at this. One man spoke up. “Our clan lands are vast and rugged. Even wi’ additional lads patrolling we cannae watch every part. There are enough places in the braes and the wooded glens fer men tae live wi’out notice.”
After Duncan had fully informed the councilors of what had transpired, it was Ewan’s turn to speak.
He looked around the faces, unsure of whether they would agree to his plan.
“I’m proposing that me wedding tae Lady Tyra MacNeacail take place without further delay. As long as we remain unwed, she isnae under the full protection of the clan. In me view, that will only encourage MacDonald tae strike.”
There was a rumble of conversation around the table at that. Ewan let them talk among themselves, aware that they needed as much time as he could give them. This was a serious matter. Neither their laird’s marriage nor potential war with another clan could be taken lightly.
Hamish got to his feet. “And what of the MacNeacail? Has he agreed tae our terms yet?”
This was Ewan’s opportunity to read aloud the letter from Edmund MacNeacail. He stood, cleared his throat and proceeded to read it to the Council.
“He’s nae agreed tae our terms.” One of the elders declared once Ewan had finished.
Another older man snorted. “When his sister is wed tae our laird, he’ll have nay choice but tae agree tae the rèiteach.”
“While there are great benefits tae our alliance with Clan MacNeacail and the access that will grant tae their trading routes, ’tis the Lady’s safety which is uppermost in me mind.” Ewan stated boldly.
He was surprised to discover that he meant every word.
Without him being aware of it, Tyra had become most dear to him.
When she’d been threatened by MacDonald’s ruffians, he’d had no hesitancy in becoming her champion.
Now, it was her safety more than the advantages of the clan alliance that mattered most to him.
There were nods, folded arms, one or two heads shaken, but when Ewan asked them for a show of hands as to whether they agreed to bringing the wedding ceremony forward immediately, there was unanimous agreement.
“We’ll nae bow down tae threats or bullying from the likes of the Laird MacDonald of Sleat,” Hamish boomed, drawing every eye to him “By attacking ye, he has attacked all of us. Let the marriage take place on the morrow so that he will understand that the lady is one of ours.
He raised his tankard as cheers broke out among the assembly.
“Slàinte mhath tae the laird and his lady. May their lives be filled with joy.”
“I thank ye lads,” said Ewan turning to go. Those that could, would wait at the castle for the ceremony and join in a feast afterwards.
He gave a wry smile. This would not be the usual great celebration of a marriage, but a quick handfasting ceremony where no banns were published. An ‘irregular’ wedding which would not take place in the kirk but in the banqueting hall itself.
Now he must find his bride-to-be and advise her to ready herself for her wedding.
He found Tyra in her bedchamber, seated by the fire. She looked up as he strode in, her eyes clouded and anxious.
“I’ve been awaiting ye, Laird Ewan. What did yer Council say?”
“’Tis well, me lady. Their ire rose as I told them of our encounter and they will nae countenance Laird MacDonald entering our lands fer savagery.”
She got to her feet and stood before him, her chest rising and falling as he spoke.
“Dinnae fash.” He spoke soothingly. “We shall be wed on the morrow. Ye will be safe from the rough threats made by MacDonald. Our clan will defend ye if he should attack again.”
Her shoulders slumped and he saw the tension ease from her eyes. A faint smile wavered on her lips.
“I thank ye. This is indeed good news. But what of me braither, Laird MacNeacail, he hasnae yet been party tae a rèiteach? How did the Council agree tae the wedding without the terms of the dowry and the betrothal agreed tae?”
“We will negotiate wi’ yer braither when he arrives here. The terms we’re asking will serve him well. Dinnae fash.”
He wished to stay to allay her fears even further, but he had much to arrange before the ceremony could take place.
He took her hand, enveloping it in his and with the other he brushed away a loose lock from her forehead.
“I shall see ye on the morrow, when ye enter the banqueting hall where the ceremony that will bind our union will be performed.”
She nodded, the smile hovering on her ruby lips enticing his. The memory of their kisses sent the blood rushing to his groin. He took a deep breath, turned, and strode to the door leaving Tyra to make her preparations. Tomorrow she would be his wife.
The remainder of his day was spent with Duncan and with Joseph.
Duncan was already rallying the garrison and sending messengers abroad to the clansmen to ready themselves if called upon to do battle with the MacDonalds.
He ordered more patrols and more soldiers to guard the causeway.
Then he progressed to discuss the arrangements for the marriage ceremony and the feast with Joseph.
Finally, he summoned his will to deal with the priest. The man would not be happy to preside over an irregular marriage ceremony.
But, regardless of any priestly concerns, the wedding must take place.
“Please ask Faither Conran tae join me in the study.”
The priest was a small, wizened man, with a bald pate that almost covered his entire head. Despite his aged appearance, his green eyes were bright and when he held his head in a tilt, like a curious bird, Ewan could almost see the thoughts racing through his head.
“So, ye wish me tae perform a handfasting fer ye. Nay banns have been published, so ye’ll nae wed in the kirk?”
“Aye,” Ewan bristled a little under the priest’s unwavering gaze and explained the reason for the urgency. “Nae time fer banns. The danger is close and I willnae risk me bride’s safety. We can dae that at a later time, if necessary.”
Father Conran nodded. “I understand, lad. I’ll attend ye both on the morrow and the ceremony will proceed.”
After he’d escorted the priest to his horse, Ewan returned through the bustling courtyard to the keep.
Villagers had brought supplies for the feast, sausages, a side of venison, beets, cabbages and carrots.
All precious produce from their own stores.
All of them were proud to assist with the upcoming marriage of their laird.
He would keep them all safe from any marauders that might threaten.
After an early supper taken in his bedchamber, Ewan spent long hours in his chair by the fire. Eilean Donan and the castle had been made secure, he and Duncan had seen to it.
His birlinns were guarded by a contingent of soldiers placed in the landing place, the causeway was well guarded. If MacDonald attempted an assault, he would find his way blocked and his men routed.
Yet, despite his confidence in the impregnability of his castle, he still harbored fears for Tyra’s safety. She could not spend her days guarded within the keep. There would be times she would sail to Skye, or ride into the village and beyond.
He downed another dram, shaking his head. He refused to live his life fearing for Tyra’s safety. The final settlement with the Laird Harris could not come soon enough.
He arose early and made his way to the study to work on the draft of the rèiteach.
He wished to have it ready to present to Tyra’s brother – his soon to be brother-in-law – when he and his party arrived.
He regretted that Laird MacNeacail would not be present for the ceremony, but time was short and he was not prepared to wait.
He’d only just finished the quick repast which had broken his fast, when Joseph was knocking at his door.
“Begging yer pardon fer the interruption, sire, Elder Hamish and young Aonghas representing Elder Jacob wish tae speak wi’ ye.”
With a huff of impatience Ewan got to his feet. “See them in, please.”
The two men sidled in and stood by the fire. Aonghas, looking uncomfortable, did not meet Ewan’s eyes, while Hamish shifted from one foot to the other, a faint grin on his face.
Ewan refrained from inviting them to sit in the hope they would make their visit brief. He frowned. “What is it lads? I’m working on an important paper. I wish tae have it prepared before the ceremony today and me time is precious.”
Hamish was the one who spoke. “We’re here representing the Council as spokesmen. There is a matter of some delicacy we need tae discuss wi’ ye.”
Ewan sighed. “Come sit, gentlemen.” They walked to the table where they pulled up two chairs and sat. Ewan joined them after moving his parchments aside and waited expectantly.