Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce Chapter 16.6-8

                                                                                               VI

Scotland

Kildrummy Castle

April 1306

Isa, dear heart,

Dire times are upon us. Robert and his men departed Kildrummy for Aberdeen, but will return once they have gathered more troops in the north. At the beginning of April, King Edward sent the Earl of Pembroke to Scotland to burn and slay. The command to 'raise the dragon' has been given. No mercy will be shown to any of us. They have burnt Simon Fraser's lands , killing all prisoners, and are moving north.

Enclosed, you will find a white gull's feather. Pray, I have not left it too late.

Kirsty

                                                                                                           VII

Norway

Bergen

May 1306

When Isa opened the missive delivered by an Aberdeen trader, a gull's feather slipped out and drifted down onto the rough surface of the trestle. Her chest contracted in painful spasms. With a trembling hand, she reached out to pick it up, resting its cool, feathered tip against her cheek, wet now with tears. Down at the harbour, Murchadh was just finishing his supper when he heard Isa's sharp, pained call. He was to leave with the tide.

                                                                                          VIII

Scotland

Kildrummy Castle

May 1306

From a distance, the captain shook his curly, dark hair free of his cloak and surveyed the vast bulk of the castle which looked remarkably peaceful with smoke drifting upwards from several vents. Eager for a feed of hay, his garron snorted beneath him. Tentatively, horse and man moved forward and the gates creaked open to let in the solitary rider. Mary's startled cry was heard across in the Snow Tower. Disturbed from a deep reverie, her sister looked up from the stone mortar and pestle. An aromatic mix of herbs nestled in the rough bowl. Knocking over her stool, Kirsty leant out of the tower window to catch sight of the commotion in the bailey below. Her hands flew to her face, a distraught breath escaped from her lips, pallid now with shock. There was no time to lose.

Earlier in the day, Drustan arrived with news – the lands of Sir Michael Wemyss and the Hays were afire. As well, Bishop Wishart had been captured at Cupar Abbey. Along with Lamberton and the Abbot of Scone, he was sent southwards in chains; only the fact that the men were in Holy Orders saved them from being hanged. Now, the English host forged northwards at speed, killing all in its path. The household was prepared for this moment. Donald was to stay at Kildrummy, as would Marjorie; Robert, unable in the end to let his precious heir leave his jurisdiction.

Down in the crowded bailey, a fine cloud of dust rose as the party made ready to depart. Murchadh sat upon Mary's grey palfrey. The horse sidled about despite Mary's attempts to bring him to a standstill. He had been a valiant companion on her many wild rides across the hills and she would miss him. Stroking his nose for the last time, she walked away and stood within the shadows of the castle wall.

Meg slept, packed tight into a crib for which Earchann had made a special attachment to secure it to the saddle of a garron, now ridden by Floraidh. With looks of shock and fear written across strained features, Mathilda and Margaret sat bolt upright upon their sturdy ponies. A chill wind lifted the hoods of their travelling cloaks and fretted at their hair. Neither girl dared move, lest their eyes catch sight of a familiar face and their resolve crumble in view of all.

With her son secured in a sling, ashen-faced Marthoc rode Kirsty's placid roan. Seated upon her mount's broad back, Seonaid masked her own unrest with her efforts to calm Ellen. The child squirmed, and the young woman crooned a soft melody whilst she adjusted the sash around her midriff. Several sumpter ponies carried heavy loads – the group's belongings and victuals for the long journey. Aodh, now grown somewhat in strength and maturity, had the task of keeping the ponies tethered to his own horse. He would need all his strength to keep up. On his old garron, Drustan brought up the rear. With a hostile army heading north, he was keen, now, for a sea-bound adventure. In order to give the appearance of two family groups, the priest surprised all by agreeing to don a sailor's cap to hide his tonsure under the pretence of being a husband to one of the maids. In these troubled times, two family groups travelling together would attract less notice.

With choked farewells uttered, encouragement was offered as though the party was intent upon some happy excursion. Smiles cloaked faces rigid with grief. Last minute admonishments were proffered – to eat their meals; wear warm vestments; stay clean; be good and not to nip at each other. With tears streaming down the creases in her face, Morag watched from a darkened doorway. Puffing heavily, Mhairi ran forward with a last minute parcel of warm pies for the girls, whilst Marjorie exited from the Snow Tower; her peg dollies and the tiny trunk of clothes in a bundled package for Ellen.

Slowly, the company moved forward. Tomas raised his hand in blessing. Ellen began to wail and Meg woke with a start. Their piercing cries rebounded off the castle walls. Kirsty fought the desire to fling herself at her children's retreating forms and kiss their precious faces one last time. Reeling, she felt Mary's firm grasp around her waist and was grateful to be held upright. Murchadh burst into a cheerful sea shanty to which young Drustan gave voice, adding a strange dirge-like quality so used was he to the monotones of monastic music. It was not at all what the captain intended for a diversion. The gates of the castle creaked shut behind them.

As the group passed the small village which had grown up around the castle, sullen faces looked out upon the lucky ones who were leaving danger behind. All knew when the Sassanach army came there would be no such happy ending for them.