Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Battles
The day arrived that Elayne dreaded. Cailean left the following year.
He engaged in battles with the Cameron clan who encroached on their borders and killed innocent farmers.
Cailean did not see Elayne the following summer as he fought brutal battles to conquer their foes.
He learned firsthand how ruthless wars and battles were as he fought alongside his father and bro-thers. They were forced to kill or be killed.
At night in his tent, Cailean remembered Elayne’s sweet innocence, a great contrast to the fields soaked in blood as men from the MacPherson and Cameron clans perished. The battles were waged for supremacy and to seek justice for their clansmen who were attacked and killed.
When alone, Cailean looked at the cloth Elayne had so lovingly embroidered.
His thoughts were consumed by Elayne and her dancing blue eyes, the color of the loch on a summer’s day.
Elayne’s black hair streaming in the wind as she rode captivated him.
Looking at the fabric instilled him with the hope that wars waged between clans would soon abate.
The battle waged all summer and into late autumn.
Still, their enemies were unrelenting, even though they clearly were losing the war.
The wind grew crisp and cold, and the leaves on the trees turned orange, red, and gold.
As the breeze blew stronger, the autumn leaves cascaded to the ground, burnished by the blood that seeped into the sodden earth.
One morning, as they emerged from their tents, they found the first snow flurries. More importantly, the enemy had retreated. Fields where they’d fought were abandoned. Forsaken clothes and weapons littered the field. Their dead were buried or their remains burned.
The enemy had given up for now. Who could foretell what would happen when emerging after winter next year?
Finally, Cailean’s men would return home to their clan and families.
The men roared with cheers, shaking their arms to the sky before they rode home.
Luckily, the snow was light, so they rode hard and long.
Men were eager to return to hearth and home.
The warriors rode toward their land, leaving the war behind.
Scouts searched ahead to spy any treachery or ambushes, but they found none.
Later, the laird sent hunting parties ahead, knowing they would have to make camp for the night.
Fires were prepared with the wood the men chopped, the heat much needed to keep them warm.
Successful hunters shot rabbits, pheasants, and deer. Cailean shot a huge deer deep in the woods. So heavy, several men had to carry the deer back to their campsite. The men looked forward to eating fresh meat.
They skinned the animals and cut up chunks of meat to cook faster, which were then roasted on wooden spits.
The smell of roasting meat and smoke permeated the air, making the warriors’ stomachs rumble with hunger.
A few men made oatcakes, and warriors grabbed these to stave off their hunger and grumbling bellies.
More oatcakes were made and placed in oilskin sacks for their time traveling on horseback. The men ate their fill that night.
Watches were set, and warriors patrolled the dark, clear ni-ght, walking the perimeter of the camp.
Their clansmen slumbered in the cold by the fires piled high with wood.
Most slept soundly for the first time in months.
A few cried out with nightmares. Unfortunately, it was a lingering aftereffect of the wars they waged, seeing men slain in battle.
The watches changed, and the men took their turns sleeping, arising at dawn and breaking their fast with leftover smoked meat.
Although the men anticipated a joyous reunion with family members in a couple more days, there were families whose loved ones would not return.
The laird did not relish sharing the news of those who had perished, watching the heartbreak of families he’d known for years and being unable to help ease their pain.
He would have his four sons share in this duty to ensure the welfare of those clansmen who lost family members.
They would provide as best as possible for the widows and children.
Unfortunately, more perished than expected at the outset, despite the fact that their unrelenting training and strategies had won the day.
The laird was proud of his sons and their prowess and courage in battle.
Especially, he was proud of Cailean, his youngest, who had devised novel strategies to defeat their enemies.
Those strategies saved many of the warriors’ lives.
The laird, tired of fighting, despaired over the lives lost on both sides—men in the prime of life.
He vowed to find more successful ways to avoid wars in the future and hoped to seek alliances with other clans through marriages.
Stronger alliances would forge powerful bonds and hopefully prevent wars in the future.
The MacPherson laird tasked Cailean with negotiating with other clans in the spring, hoping to build powerful allies.
This quest would take Cailean far from home, broaden his understanding of different regions and clans.
Negotiations were best made from a strong position.
Besides, the boy had charm and turned many ladies’ heads.
After warming themselves with hot tea, they saddled their horses and resumed their ride home. The snow flurried, swirling lightly around them, decreasing visibility, but they rode as fast as possible.
It had been providential that they’d eaten heartily last ni-ght—animal tracks proved hard to see in the now heavy snow.
They rode warily and continued looking for tracks farther ahead and on the periphery.
The silence brought by the large flakes engulfed them.
Though it was harder to find landmarks, the mountains in the distance led them home.
They made camp, more subdued than before.
In the cold weather, they changed watches often.
The men were glad they had loaded the previously empty wagons with dry wood.
They discovered a stream that was frozen on top.
With their dirks, the warriors chopped through to retrieve ice-cold water for the horses to drink.
After their thirst was quenched, the men filled their own water bags.
Cailean removed his saddle and made his bed under closely knit pine trees that kept the ground dry.
The trees also formed a barrier to the wind.
He brushed down his black stallion, Night, and led him to the stream to drink his fill.
Afterward, he led him back to his campsite for the night and fed him handfuls of oats.
Night found tender grasses to nibble on while Cailean cut more pine branches to soften the bed he’d started on the hard ground. It would insulate him and his horse, as they slept together under the trees. A few of his close friends and their horses joined him inside the clustered trees.
The warriors joked with him. “Trust Cailean to make the most comfortable bed. Whether with a woman or not.”
“I’d rather be with a passionate woman now than freeze my bollocks off,” one warrior said, drawing guffaws and laughter.
Cailean accepted their teasing in good measure. Then he slipped into the forest, following tracks other hunters had not yet followed. The tracks led to a stream. Cailean found a good vantage point and waited for his prey. His patience and perseverance were awarded with a female deer.
With careful aim and steady hands, Cailean took his shot.
The deer fell instantly. Although heavy, he could pick it up and carry it over his broad shoulders all the way back to the campsite.
The men cheered when they saw him with the deer.
The other hunters had shot rabbits and pheasants, which were already roasting.
Cailean dropped the deer away from the campsite and dressed it in the field.
Men picked up huge chunks of meat and placed them on multiple spits over fire pits.
The meat hissed over the heat of the roaring fires.
Fat dripped down on the wood and sizzled.
The snow had stopped, but the skies remained overcast. Cailean’s boots crunched as he trod through the hard-packed snow.
The men stood around the campfire, which crackled in the chilly night air.
They told tales and stories around the fire, putting more space between them and the battlefields behind them.
There was much laughter among the boasting and ribbing.
Camaraderie among the men, young and old, brought them even closer together.
Watches changed, and men bedded down for the night until their watch.
Just before daybreak, the warriors arose the following day, eager to return home late this evening if the weather held, or tomorrow.
The sky cast a pewter color, making determining the time of day difficult.
The men saddled their horses and loaded their gear, swords and dirks already strapped to their backs in leather sheaths or belts.
Horses sank in the snow up to their stifle joints, so traveling slowed more than they wished.
As they climbed out of the valley, the depth of the wet snow lessened.
The men could make up time by riding faster, lifting their spirits.
The closer they got to their home, the more anxious they became to get there.
The MacPherson laird looked to the future, hoping his strategy would lead to no further wars.
He wished to stay home with his wife, sons, and daughters and enjoy time with his grandchildren.
If Cailean established powerful alliances, they could put the bloodshed behind them.
As he got older, he disliked sleeping on the hard ground more and more.