An Unexpected Destiny (Completed)

Clan Conn

Their story is much more depressing and lengthy than mine; it goes back several years.

Robin begins to relate his clan's history, only to become so upset and reminiscent of the time that he becomes distant, pausing at long intervals and staring out the window behind the bar counter, or speaking lowly and dangerously while glaring at anyone unlucky enough to be standing where his eyes land.  When this continues, MacLeod takes over.  Robin, I am shocked to announce, makes no attempt to take the story-telling reins back.  The three other men, Ferdinand, Isen, and Jude, nod, grin, frown, scowl, or wince when appropriate.  Isen is younger, with a baby face and a chattier personality that compels him to put a word in now and again, only to receive a scolding look from MacLeod.

This the story.  It's not a story I could read for class and forget about the next day; it's not a story that some poor, bored bugger embellished to entertain himself, it is a real event.  I can tell from the wistfully sad and longing expressions on the men's faces, and the detached, in-another-time gaze of Robin's brown eyes.  This is not a story I do not think should be told in a tavern, where anyone can hear but will not hear.  Even if someone does, he will not care.  It is a story I shall not ever forget.

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Robin is ten years old.  He lives in a small house made of stone and mud with his mother, father, and older sister.  His father is a proud and patriotic man.  Though he can wield a sword and ax against a Viking with more skill than most, he is a gentle man.  He loves God, his beloved wife is the only woman for him, his son is his prince and daughter his princess, his farm and small piece of woods used for hunting is his Eden, and his clan, Conn, is his world.

Robin's father's best friend, Aedus, is the chief of Conn.  The Conn Clan lives peacefully in a valley squashed between two high, snow-capped mountains.  Their only village is composed of thirty huts in all, each one with livestock and land.  Each one with a happy father and mother, and growing children.  Being so isolated, Clan Conn never saw the need to pay tribute to the Scottish king; and being disenchanted with the idea of traversing for miles over rock and brush in the harsh Highlands, the king did not bother them.  They were only required to travel to the main city every two years for peace and alliance agreements between the other four clans, one being the Dunbroch clan.

I immediately felt a clench in my gut at the mention of my adopted clan.  MacLeod, under a blank face, was hiding anger, along with the other men's twisted lips.  Robin's face took on a darker tone.  My heart sinking, I had little doubt that whatever occurred to get these five clan members where they are-- unknown-- Dunbroch has something to do with it. 

Like their brethren, Clan Conn members were fierce warriors.  Unlike their brethren, they did not seek out conflicts or willingly engage in them.  They fought when they needed to, when their interests were at stake or one of the other clan's interests was greatly threatened.  They traded freely with almost everyone, even the spontaneous Viking when he strolled around.  Respect for all men and women, honesty, just leadership,  and a good work ethic was emphasized in small children.

They wanted to be left alone. 

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.  This is where it gets awful.  When I write awful, I mean awful.  What happens next reminds me that I am living and breathing the Middle Ages.  Life is short and anything but secure.

Clan Conn was attacked.  They hadn't engaged in battle for years and were living quietly and peacefully on the northeastern coast in their fertile valley.  The day, MacLeod had said, was a beautiful example of spring.  I didn't want to hear the rest.  And Robin abruptly standing up and walking out of the tavern confirmed the hesitant fear in my stomach.  But I had to hear it.  And not just because I was hoping these men would be traveling companions.