Scotland 1314
The Red Lion on the yellow banners of Robert the Bruce seemed to proudly wave from high above the towers of McLeod's Castle. It was just seven days after the battle of Bannockburn. Dark clouds had risen in the sky dancing above the people who were rushing to get into the great hall. The celebration was about to begin.
The smell of stew cooking and spilt wine filled the atmosphere and sounds of bagpipes and fiddles seemed to welcome the guest who wanted to visit the castle. All men were celebrating the great victory; the Scottish had finally defeated the English.
For the closest team of solicitors and warriors of Robert the Bruce that night's celebration would last shortly. They knew their King. He would want new wars and new conquers soon. But for the time being, they were coming to celebrate and remember the benefits of peace. Everybody wanted to feel a simple, carefree man just for that night.
All but one. When Iain Domnail of the Cobalt Isle and his men entered the great hall the music faded just a bit. He waved to the king and sat. He seemed eager for that night to end and go back to his usual ways. As the fifth son of a Scottish Laird he expected nor title nor property. But his involvement in this war held its own rewards. He expected lands and more men. What was about to come would shock him.
The great hall was a long rectangular room and it was dressed for the occasion. At the very end a guest could see the big table with all the noble men, Robert the Bruce at the very center. Above him his banners hang on the wall while the rest of them supported beautiful tapestries presenting images of hunting, and stories of Scottish tales probably woven by maidens of the castle with mastery and patience as part of their dowry.
The royal table was lifted a bit like it was up on a wooden platform. All the rest of the tables were placed vertically to the main table while a big space was left between them working as a stage for those who wanted to dance. The place was filled with enthusiasm and vigor as the best warriors of the king would finally meet.
As the day progressed, Iain was able to observe and see after a long time women and men together dancing and enjoying themselves. He attracted many maidens as his reputation in weapons and bed had preceded him. He smiled cynically at them. That night all he wanted was to see what the future held for him.
When Malcolm Brenan, one of his best friend and co-general in this war entered the great hall, Iain felt relieved. He would finally have someone to talk to and understand him. He felt tired of the war, yet his blood called for fight. Malcolm stood aside with his wavy blond hair and piercing gray eyes. He looked like an angel. The angel of death in this occasion as his skills had left many widowers and orphans.
"Malcolm! Here, me friend! I so longed to hear ye and speak of yer news. Last time we met was in Aberdeen two moons before. How is this instance of peace to yer likin'?"
Malcolm took his seat next to Iain and looked at him smiling.
"You ken as well as I dae me friend. This is just a breath to what is expectin' us next. I heard rumors that our King will sail soon for Ireland. I hope blessed may he be to take us with him. We share the same lot ye and I. No title, no land back home."
Iain took a sip of his wine before he spoke again.
"And what will happen to the lands and castles here? The English will soon riot if we daenae keep our place. It is too soon to move ahead."
"Aye. I agree. But Robert is smart. He will ken what to dae."
A young girl no more than eight and ten springs came between the two warriors with a tray full of meat. Her hair was red and wavy reaching all the way to her back, while her young round bosom invited any healthy man making his blood boil. She looked intensely at Malcolm with her smile reaching her almond shaped green eyes and made her way through the tables.
"Iain me lad. I have some errands to attend to." Malcolm said standing up.
"I see me friend. A young errand with red locks! Go! Go! Ye might have nae another night."
Iain looked at the royal table. Robert the Bruce seemed relaxed almost joyful as he spoke and drank with the lairds of Lowlands whom he had defeated and probably burn their homes. The latter seemed uptight and worry as if the Damocles sword was standing above their head.
He noticed two young ladies he had never seen before. The one fair and joyful fully knowingly flirted with her body and used all her charm. She was wearing a pink satin dress with white stripes enhancing her neckline and sleeves, while white glimmery pearls ornate her long swan neck. Looking like a pink rose that had just opened its petals inviting people to smell its perfectly sweet aroma, she was the joy of life.
The young lady on the very right was quite the opposite. She wore a cobalt brocade dress with black silk threads. Her straight black hair shone like the night sky in the full moon. Half of it was braided and kept up revealing her high cheekbones with no other jewelry to claim her status. Her two blue eyes looking with severity and obvious disapproval shone enough to make someone look at her. And Iain could not take his eyes of her.
Suddenly, she seemed to whisper something to a woman next to her who could probably be her mother and stood up. Heading to the balcony, Iain took the chance and rose too. With ten large steps he managed to catch up with her. The night was starry and the moon tired to watch people's foes was sleeping behind gray heavy clouds.
The young lady placed her hands on the stone banister of the castle and sighed heavily.
"And what kind of trouble would such a bonnie lass such yerself have as to sign so heavily like the whole world is up on yer shoulders? Iain almost whispered behind her.
The girl jolted lightly and seemed shock for a moment obviously spooked by Iain's presence. Her initial fright gave place to anger and Iain could swear he could see two bleu flames burning in her eyes.
"I am not sure Sir, it is proper for a lady to talk to a man she was not introduced to!" She stated rather abruptly, but firm.
Iain looked at her in amazement. She stepped aside ready to pass by him. But the tall Highlander stopped her catching her arm.
"Are ye English?" he managed to say.
"No sire. I am Scottish. However, I was brought up with my grandmother in London in the royal court." And with that she tried to release herself.
"I am Iain Domnail of Cobalt Isle. What is yer name my lady?" the warrior asked her without letting her go.
The young woman signed but took no fear in these words that would make any man or woman tremble. She looked at him as if he was rubbish and said:
"My name Iain of Cobalt Isle is Lady Lyall Falconer, daughter of the Duke of Astolat. I would strongly advise you to let your arm off mine before I scream and the celebration of our precious king is ruined."
Iain let her go and made a small courteous bow. Her big eyes widened in surprise and Iain presented her a small malicious smile.
Lyall left quickly and Iain stayed at the balcony.
Now this is a bonnie lass I would like to ken better. He thought to himself.
***
How dare he! I have not met such a preposterous man before! To think he could just ask my name as if I were a lackey in the court! Those Highlanders will ruin the decorum of Scotland as well as they have done with its lands.
Lyall was quite upset when she sat down by her mother at the royal table. All she wanted was to get some fresh air and have a moment of peace. The last events had upsetted her mother and herself dearly. She missed Astolat already and she was only at the beginning of this journey that a noble woman would have to face those days.
Her father was lost in battle. Some believed he had found refuge in London. Some that he probably had burnt with the others. Although the great Duke of Astolat had fought bravely he was not able to keep his castle. The hordes of Highlanders had burned the fields and everything near the castle during the siege setting a big fire at the last battle. Lyall was grateful that she and her mother were alive.
She would have fought among her men if only she knew how. It was hard to be a woman watching passively in fake serenity, while cannonballs and arrows threw above you. Being a man and fight seemed a thousand times better option than standing in a dress looking and feeling defenseless. For a woman in her position things were worse as she was expected not to show any feelings of terror but rather keep her morals high and act like a role model for the rest.
And she had her mother to think of as well. Lady Elaine was a delicate creature. She had given birth to four sons and a daughter and this war had left her with Lyall as her sole consolation. There was no wonder that night she could not even put a fake smile on her face to mask her deep sorrow.
When Robert the Bruce had called them as their king to attend the festivities for his victory, Lyall and Elaine had felt like two figures of an ancient Greek tragedy. Still in mourning and among ruins they considered it inconceivable that the king had actually demanded their presence.
Lyall thought him mad. But Elaine had turned to look at her with worry in her eyes.
"Me dear bairn, yer father had summoned ye here to console me. Alas, the reason was political as well. As the sole heir of the Dukedom of Astolat ye would inherit the title and the territory. The latter being of great importance serving as the keeper of the East for the Highlands, was a source of attraction to any ambitious man." Lady Elaine had told her.
"I do not understand mother." A confused and desperate Lyall had answered."
Lady Elaine had looked at her daughter and had given her a sad smile. "Ye 're still a bairn. I should nae have agreed to take ye out of yer grandmother's safe hands in London. Now, Lyall, ye 're not just the daughter of the Duke of Astolat. Ye 're one of the two most important brides as yer dowry would secure a male access to the royal bloodline and access to Astolat. The man who keeps Astolat, keeps East Lowlands in control.
I am afraid that Robert Bruce dinae call upon us for our ability to ornate his table. Defeated noblewomen would be no interest to him. Nay, me daughter. Robert the Bruce will announce yer engagement at this celebration. And ye need to be prepared and accept. As this is the destiny of a noble woman; to serve her king." With those words Duchess Elaine of Astolat had prepared her daughter for what was about to come.
Lyall had never felt more desperate in her whole life. She was only eight years old when she left Scotland. She remembered that day. The sun was high and the sky clear and inviting for dreaming. She was playing with the other children as a farewell gift.
She had been running playing hide and seek in the fields and laughing feeling so free after all the courses and strict practices she had to suffer being raised as a duke's daughter. Never did they allow her to play with other children and she had to watch them sad from her window.
It was a great surprise for her to let her go that day. Lyall felt grateful only to be disappointed some hours later. She was to leave for London and stay with her grandmother Lady Tabatha at the royal court. For that moment, all she could think of was that she would be away from home. Little did she know of the austerity and decorum her grandmother would demand from her.
She was sad at first and silent. Her pain obvious in her childish face refusing to hear any news of her family. Her grandmother had had her seated in front of her in the gardens after the first two months. She remembered that spring day full of colors and aromas that would stay in her heart forever.
"My dear child. It bleeds my heart to see you sad. Your mother was at your age when her father took her away from me to be raised in the Highlands. She knows very well the pain and anguish you are now. I am sure she would do otherwise if it was in her hands. A lady in our position has certain obligations and she considered it only proper to send you here."
Lyall had burst to tears. "Nay grandmother! Me mother daenae care about me. She cares only for the boys."
Lady Tabatha had taken her in her arms. "Shsh my child. This is not true. She knows how important you are. That is why she singled you out to be here. She knows that in the English royal court you will learn many valuable things that will turn you into a fine woman and lady of your time. You will use your knowledge of the court Lyall. Mark my words. One day you will understand."
Her grandmother's words had come to haunt her thoughts throughout her trip to McLeod's castle, especially after what her mother had told her of her lot. She was to be expected to be traded as a valuable commodity, as a res (* a thing in Latin) with little or no objection to the ruler's plans.
Lyall had decided to give her own battle, especially since Robert the Bruce had invited her thinking that she would be a damsel in distress. Lyall had shown determination and strength few men let, alone women, would posses in her place.
So when Iain of Cobalt Isle had shown interest and thought she would comply her answer was to defy. She would defy anyone while keeping her position and place intact. Her grandmother was right. Her lessons would serve her well.
I will show you what Lyall truly means.