Epilogue
Firth of the River Clyde, Largs, Scotland
The armies of the clans rode forth in battle formations.
On the last leg of the journey toward the coast, a storm battered the land and sea.
None of the Highlanders and Scotsmen minded the pelting rain or brisk winds, for they were intent to win victory for their king.
As they waited for the Norwegian vessels to reach land, they watched with awed reverence as Haakon’s cavalry battled to salvage their vessels from the choppiness of the water.
Once on the ground, their enemy’s boots stomped ever courageously forward to meet them.
Arms were drawn, and the infantry and cavalry of the Scottish forces confronted the contingent sent by Haakon to secure his lands.
It wasn’t to be because their men were easily divided between the beach and a mound.
The Norwegians sprinted to rejoin their men in the battle but the second group thought they were retreating and returned to their ships.
Those who remained had no choice but to raise their swords in defense of their army and nation.
Bodies littered the beach, and after a day’s long battle, the Scots took up position by the mound and secured it.
But their enemy returned, and the Scots withdrew.
When the sun rose, the Norwegians returned to collect their dead.
Victory was on the Scots’ side and though most wanted to cheer, they were too dog-tired.
Norway’s fleets fled back to their lands to nurse their wounds and bury their dead, thereby abdicating the land in the hands of Scotland.
Four men marched from the encampments that sat beyond the mound. Each intended to bid farewell to their king now that their duty was done.
Inside his tent, Alexander stood warming his hands by a fire on the ground in the center of the high-pitched ceiling. When he saw the men enter, he grinned slightly because they had helped him achieve what he’d set out to do—stretch his lands to the reaches of the northern part of the island.
“Welcome, come, warm yourselves.” Alexander twitched a finger at the page who hurried forth to give each man a cup of ale.
“Cameron, Buchanan, MacKendrick, and Mackintosh, you are now standing on Scottish soil. I give you my thanks, for I could not have done this without you and your brethren.”
“Ye gave us no choice, sire,” Breckin said with a lilt of humor in his voice.
“Aye, och we would have come to support ye without ye forcing us to take a bride,” Magnus said. “We shall always stand with Scotland regardless of the reward.”
“You cannot tell me that you are displeased with your brides. From what Edmund tells me…” Alexander chortled a laugh and rolled his eyes slightly. “He says that ye are all well pleased as are the women.”
The men broke out in laughter.
Alexander raised his cup. “To the winsome brides.”
The men lifted their cups and clanked them together.
“This gives me an idea,” Alexander said. “When I bound you to your brides, I wanted to gain your alliance, and in giving you each a bonny lass for a wife, your lives have been enriched.”
“Mine certainly has,” Magnus said. “Before I married Kendra, I only cared about my clan. Now I have a family. We are expecting another bairn.”
The men offered their congratulations by raising their cups and said in unison, “Slàinte.”
After downing the ale in his cup, Shaw said, “Peace has come to the Mackintoshes thanks to Sorsha. We are planning to wed our lass to one of the Cameron lads. We will keep alliances with steadfast marriages.”
“Alliances are spreading, sire, because of your forthright deeds,” Breckin said. “Eva is expecting a bairn this spring and we shall consider his or her betrothed most carefully. Our clan rejoices.”
Declan chortled. “Our congratulations, Breckin. Are ye not a farmer now? I heard tell that ye have given up being a warrior. Or will, now that this battle is won.”
Breckin grinned before he answered, “Ye saw the effects of me being a warrior there on the beach. We will continue to test our arms, och many of my clansmen want to farm. Why not prosper our fields and farms when our arms are not needed?” He raised his sword in the air, sending a shimmer of colors on the tent fabric above from the jewels in the hilt that now embellished it.
Alexander bobbed his head. “Too true.”
“What was your idea, sire?” Magnus asked.
“Well, now that the brides brought you fine Highlanders to heel and strengthened Scotland as I had hoped, I just might send a bride to Haakon. He has a son in need of the guiding hand of a sweet Scottish lass.”
The page hurried forward and refilled their cups. When he finished, he stepped back into the shadows and kept himself unseen.
“To the maid of Scotland, may she bring Norway to its heels and give Haakon’s son strong sons,” Alexander said and raised his cup.
A bride was exactly what was needed to join the two nations and perhaps bring about long needed peace to the region.
The End