Like Unto Carnsebel

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

1. The Road to Struan, and Dun Darroch After..


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

By the time things were prepared, the twilight had come down to night's full thrill. Black shadow kissed the edge of starlight before it pounded again back to earth with the help of a wave or two. The air felt charged with possibility she she wondered how it would be to go along the road, not as the Mo'r Oukselo, but the Queen. The Map Room still housed her body even if the clothes kept the mind, and the body was all attired in a good wool kirtle with split skirts especially for riding full astride, as she always did. (d)


Jack Trades

The rhythmic thump of hob-nailed boots heralded the approach of the brawny frame. The keen of eye or lucky might have seen a black sleeve tipped with a black leather glove protruding form the iconic oilskin poncho. The sleeve was raised to his face, and the sound of a thread being cut by teeth could be heard inbetween the thumping. A few steps more and the weather-beaten hat was replaced atop his head just before rounding the corner into the map room. The thumping halted a few paces from the newly minted Queen. "I am prepared." (d)

Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"How are ye prepared? Sounded as if ye would toss he servin' folk out on their ears. Wot be beneath the poncho Trades?" asked the Queen, shifting in her posistion to lean from against the wall to be propped up by outstretched hand on another bookshelf. Gold hair swung hither and yon as it saw fit, free of its coils, pins, braids, or adornments. What adornment was he hiding under the famous clothing that announced his figure so well? Man didn't bleed shadow or wasn't made up of shadow, afterall. (d)

Jack Trades

The reply came without embelishment, "Clothing fit for a Queen's escort. When ye see the servants again, would ye pass along me gratitude fer availing me use of some tailoring supplies? I've managed tae alienate at least a few of them unjustly." The figure stood stolidly, but the hearty rumbled more softly than usual. (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Aye then. Ye won't show me? Let me have a once o'er." She wanted to see what all the fuss was about, the half smile turning up the side of her mouth couldn't help his cause any , either. She wouldn't thunder at him, but she did want to see what was worth echoing bellows. Time waited for no man - but it would wait for one man, answering the request of a Queen tonight. "Ah'll be tellin them, nay doubt ye gave them an amusin story for the year." From the desk she took up an impliment in oiled sheath she had brought in, seeing it secured to her back for the ease of weight, for comfort. It was the sword her brother the Marshall had made especially for her. (d)

Jack Trades

A short grumble was made as she pressed the request. "Yer lack of faith in me word be insuting." An arm drew open the folds of oilskin cloth. There underneath were the usual hob-nailed boots, but they were topped by black pants that were cuffed tightly to the mid-calf and sported silver buttons. The legs were pleated and billowed. A black tunic rested loosely over a thick and formal styled gambeson with white trim at the collar. Slung over a shoulder was a large and worn pack. At his hips were two long blades, each with black handles and black unadorend scabbards. Calloused and scarred hands were covered by supple leather, the backs of which were smoothly polished. The voice rumbled again. "I'll change boots once we arrive." (d)

Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Ye cut a dashin' figure Trades, much the same as any odd figure in m'court. Ye act as if the tunic is a poison m'friend, but it does suit ye." Hand clamped against his shoulder before lifting in quick pat-a-pat ,"Ye can be amused and insuted at the same time. Ye can change yer boots when ye are there, ye be just fine now." Foot lifted to chair as dirks were slid in place inside of the leather boots that were clean, dark, but did not seem to attend to a Queen's formal dressing habit. Some things never changed, and her boot heel click would be around as long as his hob nail stride. She picked up from the chair a wrap of good linsey wool, spun an earthen brown shade, wrapping it about her shoulders to deflect the chill. (d)


Jack Trades

"Thank ye, but 'tis nae fabric I consider poison." A grumble was muttered under his breath, but the voice carried on. "So, can ye tell me about where we're going? Any background on who we shall be meeating with? Who shall be joining us" As he spoke, the poncho slid shut with lttle more and a shift of his weight. (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

: "We be gaein tae Struan, Castle dun Darroch tae be more percise, tae the home o' Clan Robertson. Tae be entertained, nay doubt I expect tae meet the Laird Iain's wife, Lady Keilana, harpy she be. A harpy with a smile n' the old chieftain Laird Alexander. Gaein it shall be ye, n' Ah, n' Brom as m'honor guard. Perhaps m'brother Caldean as well, if nay him than m'nephew, as I wish one o' them tae stay back with m'son the Prince. Will tha' serve?" She began to lead them to the door, feeling time's freeze was enough as the moment had passed. "M'husband spoke o' m'self takin a time tae Struan while he sorted things 'ere tha' needed attention, it seems a pertinent trip." (d


Jack Trades

"A harpy, sounds lovely." there was no attempt to mask the surly reply before resuming its usual timbre. "Aye, the rest should do. I admit the more we can make this trip about ye, the better off I'll be. I donnae enjoy tbeing amongst nobles, nor the pretenses they dish tae one another. I learned long ago that a castle be just as dangerous as a battlefield." (d)

Queen Beathag Abedeen

"Aye, if nay worse. A battlefield ye see wot is comin at ye, at court tis veiled in pretty things n' smiles. Tis a villany o' words, the Lord Marshall calls it." Stairs would twist the path down, down out towards the stables where mounts would be waiting. "But as much as it be a world tae avoid, tis a world where much is decided n' done. ye remain a poor man if ye dun learn the language enough tae retort their ilk back at them. Such is my way. N' when they are least expectin it, lash it back. They detest an honest enterprise like wot we run 'ere now. Dun rue it Jack, embrace it. Ye might learn a thing or six." At the base of the stairs she limped only an instant before moving to full stride again, feeling the effect of an old battlefield called Sleat. As the door opened from the castle, the courtyard welcomed them to cross out to the stable. (d)

Jack Trades

The rhythmic thump never missed a beat, but her break in gate was only made the more obvious. While they crossed to the stables, the hearty timbre continued. "I must ask how bad is that injury of yours afore I make the mistake of counting on that leg tae save yer life. Donnae worry, I'll behave. So far ye've nae told me anythin' I didnae know. Have ye ever heard of the town of Donzburg?" Upon reaching the stable, the hulking figure took a few moments to check the hoofs of the steed proferred to him. (d)

Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"If ye must know recently Ah took off a man's head, sae wot e'ere it is, doesn't slow when it matters. Ah'm glad you'll behave, still be wry though. Dun turn intae a dry replica o' them, for the sake o'wot e'ere Gods ye believe in. Ah hate dull company. Donzburg...be it in the German states?" She could only guess at this due to the name, for she hadn't crossed German state soil before. A small door was pulled away by her to let her body in, with him to follow. She waited for his answer as she went directly over to the animal companion whom had seen as much change as she. From the horse of a rebel to a figure in a royal stable, Caldonhan meant everything. Other mounts were had, and others used to allow the older horse his moments of peace but he was still full of zest and vigor. He tossed his head happy to receive her hand through his mane. (d)

Jack Trades

A gloved hand petted the the muzzle of the horse before him and let it smell him. A chuckle burbled from the barrel chest as he mounted the horse in a single graceful motion that beguiled his bulk and the weight he carried. "A worse fate I cannae conceive. Aye, Germanic, though it nae bae called that anymore. It now goes by the name of Carnsbel. Have ye heard the story of the Count of Carnsbel?" With reigns in a gloved hand, the steed was turned to face the stable door. (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Nay, but Ah like stories, sae tell it tae me Trades? Bard's blood always recounts a good tale tae memory." Caldonhan followed her with ease, and once outside he was mounted with no trouble. Full astride, not side saddle! Her height was magnified in that saddle thanks to the fact Caldonhan was draft horse stock by origin, a clydesdale. He must have been cross bred with something however as he was far lighter and quicker than most beasts of burden. She felt the weight of dirks in her boots, the sword at her back, and knew other things were hidden. Behind them it would be the accompanying Brom and her brother, which meant that her nephew was the standing honor guard from her smallest retinue left at the castle. Caldean gave a nod to trades, Brom a smile, before one went ahead of them while the other lingered behind. (d)

Jack Trades

Nothing more than a dip of the weather-beaten brim was given in return. The hearty voice rumbled just oud enough to be easily heard over the hoofbeats, but if the horse's distance strayed, the rumbled quickly faded to silence in the night air. "The town of Carnsbel rests about half a league from a caslte bearing the same name. The castles rests upon a river, and makes the only crossing for three day's ride. So it became of military significance, and a proud symbol of isolated and stalwart defense. During one of the wars that plauged the Germanic states, a scout was sent to deliver urgent orders to the occupying battalion. Since they were near the rear of the war, the battalion as called forward. Once there, the scout was order to man the castle until reinforcements arrived that evening. Only they never came. The scout was left in the castle alone, but leaving because he was alone would have been treated as desertion. At that time, he discovered an enemy picket group that had set up on the opposite side of the river. Time passed, and food in the castle ran out. So the scout started sneaking out of the castle to the Count's personal apple orchard for fruit. The picket group also by then had turned to the land for food, and they clashed. The scout knew that he could not survive on apples alone, so he turned cannibal, and disposed of inedible remains by launching them over the river with a catapult into the enemy's territory. The picket group fought and died for nothing as they had all been forgotten at the rear of the war. When reinforcments finally arrived, the scout was interrogated as a vampire, and the king himself was present. The king told the scout that he would repay the count for the damage to his land, as was part of the old law. The count responded that he would pay it to himself whenthe harvest came. The king was confused, but the scout had been through the castle's library and read the old law. Absentee nobles forfeited their lands after four months of absence. He had stood guard for almost 7 months. And do ye know what happened after that?" (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

The story of Carnsbel began as any story did, with a location. It slid from the location to significance, from significance to action. The telling of the tale went with them as they trecked down the high castle paths on horseback to the lower, adnd to the nearest gate that turned them out facing the far end of Fieldren Fields. Beyond the forest of similar name, to cut through this unto the road. She lent the reigns to one hand while letting the other reston the thigh, steering the clysdale with ease through the moonlit high grass. The tale of the scout confronting harsh odds over seven months made her fathom what drove him to stay, when perhaps if he but went farther he could have left. Was it honor before self? Adrenaline fueled determination before failure? At the mention of cannibalism her mouth made a hard, thin line. Once the King arrived to question the man no one thought first to offer question how he served, or what with. Provokation of myth was first brought forward. Then talk of laws. "They either commended his intelligence n' gave him the land, or they killed him all the same nay matter the outcome.." (d)


Jack Trades

The brim nodded again. "Close guess. The king told the scout that the Castle and the town had come to be known as "Carnsbel", marking his habit of ringing the castle bell before launching his bloody leftovers. The king left and gave his blessing, but returned in less than a week with a new law, and the nobles that came with him mocked the new count as they could never accept a moss-sucking, rat-eating cannibal into their court. Enraged, the new count killed a nobleman and disappeared into the castle. No one saw the count leave, but he was not found, and that night the apple orchards which had long been reputed for their bounty, burned to cinders." The voice paused here, letting several moments pass. "The fickle nature of government is what leads me tae distrust it so."(d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Carnsbel, ah see.." replied the Queen to the story teller. She pushed a hand back through ehr hair before giving a hard sigh at the weight of the story's moral. Was there really a moral? Indeed. Trust no one or anything, for the world of many is to inconsistant to believe. You'd be better to place your stock in the constant change of the moon. Then came a wonder if the story was witnessed at least in some part by his eyes, rooted in autobiography spoken, but she knew better than to ask. In due time the fields turned to forest thicket, deep and quiet save for the night brds at their business of singing. "Tha' is a long bout of German ficklness, indeed, but tis the same in many a'place.' Did people see this inevitable shift as inevitable here, that the good rulers would be corrupt by the enterprise as the old peerage were that yearned to be in their stead? Would the court follow suit, and all the stuff of man's freedom pay forfeit for a crown? She appreciated earnest more than pandering, and Jack was earnest "Government o' clan, e'en the guilds, a village.let alone a castle..all o' it is fickle tae ye Ah take it." She found no personal insult, but was glad Adam had promised they would move about the countryside soon to see whom and what they were to care for, to not be shut away, believed only in word, never in face (d)

Jack Trades

While she spoke, the oilskin-clad rider stat stolidly upon his mount. Though as she finished, from the darkness under the brim, came a good-natured chuckle. A moment passed before the voice rumbled again. "Ah, ye ferget who yer talkin' tae. I be smarter than that. Methinks a cannibal would agree that we're all rather similar inside." The chuckle resumed until casually fading. The wrinkled brim tilted up towards the moonlight breifly before swiveling out towards the thickets. (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Throwin' off the yoke o' wot we know tae dae wot we think is best, live as we need tae live? Aye, o' course. Crown or nay crown, desire not tae cast aside, if m'people had need than an axe would be swung. Steel bent n' broken nay in the Queen's name, but by the Queen. If we lived lone. Gods forbid, tae imagine, who knows wot we would dae." She had no desire to know what flesh between teeth tasted of or man's gristle in the molars. Caldean favored the topic not either, shuddering, while Brom only shook his head at the conversation topics the woman could stomach where grown men grew repulsed. As the moon shone down and the path stretched on, Turas Lan would be a glimmering set of sea side lights carved into a hill. "Things are fickle, insde the heads o' men n' women. There will ne'er be a time without fickle mindedness. The loyalty o' many tha' kiss m'hand may prove likewise. Court is a battle, and on going one." (d)


Jack Trades

Another dip of the brim in a nod was given. "Agreed, and I be thoroughly expectin' it. On that topic, who would ye say stands the greatest chance of betrayin' ye?" The question was spoken without inflection, and without regard for mannered graces, though the volume of his voice never rose beyond that of storytelling.(d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

"Hmm? Who stands the greatest chance...well trades, in earnest the clan we are gaein tae see by default o' their own, tha' is only some o' them. The Clan Argyll, mayhaps. M'main court consists o'the likes o' ye n' the others, n' dun see betrayal there. It is the old peerage tha' always worries me the most, tae them I dun belong here. Ahdam doesn't nor dae our children nay matter wot our blood is or the rites are." (d)


Jack Trades

"Argyll, eh?" The heary timbre pronounced the name in a musing manner. "Aye, and I imagine it fosters nae small amount of jealousy and ambition amongst the old guard. Though what ye say now makes me curious." The brim centered upon Bess. "What are the likes 'o me?" (d)


Queen Beathag Aberdeen

Ye, the General n' his family, those tha' rise tae their posistions by effort n' closeness tae us. A core, a kindred made up o' how we be. Tha' is wot I mean by the likes o' ye. Th elikes o' the clan peerage is nay, though some were once close as kin tae me. Ah'm nay a fool they tolerate m'husband and abhor me." (d)


Jack Trades

"I see." The reply was short, and the wrinkled brim turned back to the landscape before them. The voice then called to the other two that had until now been silent. "So what do ye two make of all this? What do ye two see on the horizon?" (d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Answer to the Question of Trades

"We make o' it tha' the world is gaein tae light a fire n' remake itself again. Sae it does e'ery few years in some great, grand happenin' tha' shakes the firmanent on which we stand. It sounds a might biblical, but tis truth. Ye will see it e'en in Dun Darroch, tha' castle where the Robertsons live. Ye will see it in Struan, the main village. Aye yer Carnsebel from the Germans reminds me o' places where men feast on men. Their blood is e'en as a sauce 'pon grass. Aye. Robertsons have given us years o' fealty but have been, riddled with the Carnsebel plight among themselves. ah'm glad it is ye accompanyin me. Tis good fer ye tae see the people whom might grow bold enough tae ask ye. There are many shades o' people, just as there are many lengths o' shadow 'neath a Griffin banner."


The ride was not a long one. Mere hours that only went longer because unlike proper minded people who favored daylight, they rode beneath the moonlight in a tight knit band. The royal standard was not lacking for display: Griffin drapery adorned the horse of her majesty, the guard, and even of the man who would come to be one of the most important agents of the court. Trapsing acrosss the island was not a voyage to the Orient, but words held enough curios to make it seem that the same spice scented wonders would emerge from the mist.

In her mind, the new Queen elected a fine night for official business and official merriment. The island was a torch. Bonfire after lamp after bonfire dotted the hillsides while in the woods campfires glowed resonate with the sound of unabashed laughter from people spilling out of civilized reaches to return to the origins of man. She turned to look at her companions for a reaction. A village man had a high pitcher of ale. Not noticing the party, he offered little libation to the spirits while taking it all in himself. A woman sauntered up to his side, muttering an evident complaint she intended to puncuate with a pouting face. Moved by whatever plight she had, the man followed her back towards the glow of the fire.

"Wonder wot sort o' fire waits for us," Beathag muttered. Brom gave it a thought in silence, while Caldean gave open respone, "One tha' should please the company n' nay harm,heaven should hope your majesty. What think you Trades? Look." He pointed out to the road they traversed over the last few hours where in Dun Darroch was waiting. Struan, too, was waiting.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Presence Arrives and More Come to Join, Delight in Carnsebel

Written by the creators of Skye and the creator of Jack Trades

In the distance bonfires were light along the road into the city… Struan was filled with vendors, Griffin, banners and leaders from every villager within miles… Lord Alexander had alerted all the people that the Queen was coming… The word was spread far and wide across Robertson, Reed, and MacLeod lands.

Just on the other side of Struan, saddling the Loch, Dun Durroch loomed. A virtual fortress, the walls were hung with banners of the Aberdeen, MacRauri, and the Griffin. Alexander and Keliana had balls planned, with musicians, jesters, and dancers from the area, scheduled to perform.

One thing Alexander and his bytch, Keliana could not control was the people’s enthusiasm… people were beginning to line the roads to town and along the city streets…

One presence the Lord Alexander did not account for, thinking they would be too lessened to emerge, were the Argylls. It was a man of Argyll first she saw, with a woman, offering humble bow upon the side of the road. Beathag took note of this, Brom not far behind in remembering. Caldean rode with Trades as he wondered what his thoughts on the subject were. Around the bend, fire heralded the arrival of the Queen's company. Such an affair! "Send word behind me, tha' in the mornin', comin' forth shall be nay less than four o' the other women, n'men enough for each. Do nay send for the youngest children, but for my oldest two. Aodhan n' Davina. We must blend." She felt as if this display were to distract her eyes, but would need to enjoy it all the same for the people were retainers still. Not all of them were vile, but there was a stench of deceit as heavy as the blooms strung together on garlands. The Queen was still moved by the true enthusiasm of the people that ran back to the village to say that the Queen and her guardians were in sight! They rode into a storm of great cheers! Women, children, and men alike came forward to bow, curtsy, and offer a touch of hand. The way was paved for them in flowers, coronation coins tossed out to touch garment hems for good luck.

Before the entourage came into earshot of the waiting crowds, the baritone timbre rumbled quietly to the expectant look of Caldean alongside him. "I shouldnae be surprised tae be ridin' with a revolutionary and a youthful optimist. What I think is that we be ridin' intae a fight. They'll welcome us, sure, but they'll test us fer weakness first. Expect some verbal sparring. Nobles love that sort 'o thing - especially the harpies. If'n we still have their allegiance, they may turn if they donnae like what they see. If'n we've already lost them, they will look for an opening tae strike. Keep yer hands close tae yer weapon, yer eyes on the thorn behind the rose, and we may survive this." As the crowds gathered, the previously talkative Trades grew silent. A gloved hand tugged back the reigns to keep his steed lagging half a horse length behind the rest. Otherwise the impassive mound of oilskin was just as stolid as ever. The celebration caused no more reaction than falling rain that frequently sheeted from the folds of oilskin cloth. The brim would swivel slightly over an analytical gaze as they passed through the enthusiastic folk.

"M'sister, her majesty, is both by 'erself." Caldean gave a curt nod of his head before he took in the words of Jack Trades as a man takes in food with the purpose of nourishing himself. He began to comb through the crowds with his eyes at a distance. As they approached to the inevitable point of meeting, Caldean said, "Tis nay the common man we need worry o'er, but his sovereign." His addition to the text was short, but direct. The enthusiasm that met them was palpable enough to feel on the air. This people wished the Queen nor her company any ill will. Why, he was even given a posey of flowers as he watched his sister collect a great many. What was it to love the unattainable, only to find it could really move among you? As the party advanced forward, the Queen's Courier would advance backward with the tale of welcome receptions to tell.

Just as Caldean's words were spoken, a hob-nailed boot nudged his steed forward and to Caldean's side until the riders' legs brushed one another and the horses tossed their heads in protest. A tug on the reigns parted them a bit, but the brim stayed intently centered on the young man. His voice rumbled calmly, but the intonation was flat and clipped. "Clothing be easy tae change, the eye easy tae deceive, and the ego easy tae flatter. Do ye think a sovereign couldnae accomplish a charade, or an unrelated band of brigands hungry fer a Queen's ransom? Do nae be dazzled, lad. A sword always dangles by a thread over any crown, and this one entrusts ye tae keep it from falling. What did yer trainers teach ye? Do ye think Bess would find comfort in that posy while she coughs up blood in yer arms? Put yer eyes forward, lest we be distracted while ye learn." With that, the brim swiveled over the crowd again and his horse's pace slacked a bit.

Back in Turas Lan, Adam was managing the family and household, while his wife had proceeded to Struan… the debates in Parliament now complete. Had it not been for the session of Parliament, he would have accompanied his wife. Now he was preparing for the children and he to arrive within two days hence. “Lord Chamberlain, has the Queen’s courier returned?” Theodore replied with a monotned “Nay Your Majesty…” Adam nodded and looked at the Lord Great Chamberlain. “Up’n his return, send a message to the Queen announcing our arrival in two days…” The man again spoke with the stringent manner of the position… “Yes Your Majesty… By your leave…” Adam smiled and nodded.

Long ago, under the English rule of King Edward I, dissenters of Clan MacDougall and Clan MacLaughlin, who refuted English agreements of the lairds of Clan Campbell and the English King, had moved from the southern Highlands of Argyll into the western coast of Skye and formed a clan they called Argyll… Clan Argyll prospered on the western coast under Skye’s Lord of the Isles, Alan MacRauri, but his sudden death and English overtures ripped Argyll land from clan ownership. In other pacts made by King Edward II to force Scots to submit to English rule, the Robertson clan came to power under Lord Alexander. The Robertson were loyal to Robert the Bruce and as Skye grew under the Scot King Robert I, Alexander made a play for power. Over the years, Alexander, who hated the Argyll, forced the smaller clans in the area to pay homeage to the ruling clan. Struan was divided, even so slightly, between the Robertson and the Argyll. When Iain Robertson of Struan came to power as Laird, and Alexander was sidelined due to ill-health, members of the Argyll clan began to bargain with Iain for more leniencies, but the power of Alexander kept them silenced. As Adam came to power as Mo’r Triath, and eventually as King, Lord Alexander continued using terror tactics to keep the Argyll from seeking favoritism with the new powers in Turas Lan. The deceit Alexander spread about Iain, his favoritism to Clan Argyll, and his traitorous acts causing the Clan War, soon reached King Adam’s ear. The Argyll’s joining the Robertson Laird on his warrior trek to Sleat added fact to the deceit.

The Queen’s arrival was met with boisterous crowds, cheering the new monarch and her entourage. The roads and streets were lined with men, women, and children; lest one would notice, that the crowd would be intermixed, mostly Roberrtson, but a few groups of sequestered Argyll. Could one notice? Would they notice such division deep down? Each and everyday, the people of clan Argyll… the MacLoughlin and the MacDougall… prayed for the death of Alexander… but was Laird Iain that much better? One would have to dig deep thu the layers of deceit by one old man.

Concerns at home and abroad kept the King occupied. His actions and ponderance of the day’s work was only fueled by his missing his wife… He belonged at her side, not stuck in Parliament, nor the Great Hall answering audience. Days turned into a week… and finally he laid the discussion of Parliament aside. His orders to resolve differences and have recommended solutions ready upon his return now allowed him to depart… to rendezvous with his wife in Struan… “Lord Chamberlain… Mae childr’n and Ah shall meet the Queen in Struan… Then we sh’ll leave Struan for Stornoway and on to Oslo…” and then he smirked… “That bae the plan… lest Ah decide differently later…” he chuckled… The Lord Great Chamberlain simply smiled and bowed… “Yes Your Majesty…”

“Summon mae Falconer… and mae runner…” Adam had plans to use his falconer and his runner to his advantage to open lines of communication in hi absence. Discussions with those men would provide a communication network never seen before in Skye. In the stables, the royal horses and carriage were being readied… as well as the King and his children’s belongings for the trip. To Aodhan and Davina, he would kneel and inform them of the impending trip to Struan… “Naew gae pack…” and off they ran with shrieks and giggles down the hall… Aodhan, off to the armoury for his practice armour… Davina, off to the Ladies for help packing.


The closeness of Trades was not a welcome thing. Caldean didn't have time to protest it, however, as obviously the elusive figure now in the Court's employ was trying to make some sort of point. Youth was a falacy parlayed in the face that made the Aberdeen children appear younger than the were. Youth, the concept was flattery from the mouth of a man who felt he needed to wear tar colored clothes to set himself apart. "Shut the fook up, Trades. Look around ye. Abhor ye the common man. Tha's a damned terrible farce." He pointed outward to the people offering even him posey, gratitude. Their faces weren't the faces of players in a company of actors, but of people who wore the look of relief. The man who by reckoning was well beyond thirty looked them square in the eyes. Smelling his offered gift, he tossed it back to them, with coin from his own pocket. "They believe it tae be luck. We dun abide by luck, we abide by our effort. Dae ye nay think the sovereign can tell the difference, or dae ye fancy our Queen, my sister a fool? It is wot will entertain us best, or seek tae, tha' holds my detestin. Where be yours?" He kicked at the flanks of the horse to make it move forward, closer to his sister. Still, he kept the words of the man close. Great pretenders could pretend to be low born - yet at the same time - was trades such that he could not see these were the faces of the people who wanted them there?

Caldean looked over his shoulder to see what space the man would keep. Closer and closer to Dun Darroch they came, enough to pass under torches, to feel the road hung banners on their poles brush against their skin. No, Jack's words did not fall on deaf ears, but Caldean heard something that none of them else were privy to. At the side of one banner, a woman who waved a miniature would kiss his leg. Eyes looked up that foretold of a wish, a wish that she might detere them from the castle for it was a place of vice, of sin. "Have a care, my lord.." she uttered, passing him a slip of paper under the guise of her hair ribbon. She looked only as a woman who was swept away by the man upon the horse, offering him a token to recall her by. "Promise?" The slip of a woman was an Argyll, brave enough to wear her own tartan under the shadow of the Lairds who claimed her family's forced fealty. Caldean would remember her all his days. The mournful look in near violet eyes, the way she seemed to shudder when the wind whispered of some transgression she had yet to commit. Whatever was upon the paper was costing her a great deal.


Beathag kept her enchantment of the display to herself. Aye, even the aged veteran could be impressed by a fantastic show, and the banners, the flowers, and the cheer was not without its whimsy. Ears detected the faint sounds of dischord between her brother and a man of the court. Her face wore a moment's exapserated expression as she turned it over her shoulder. Must Caldean continue a tradition that Eamonn already executed so well? Most women would feign delight that the men in their lives were so protective. Beathag rued the day at times when her brother's temper got the better of him. It was to be said that Jack must be a rare token, though, for little made Caldean's temper ever roll to a boil. He was as simplistic in posture of peace as their mother, and preferred the steady reliance in life like his father Amhlaid. Still, whatever Jack was saying to him would not bode well for her.


"Greetings from her Majesty the Queen, we call upon the old custom o' refreshment n' delight, puttin oursleves upon the will o' yer hospitality!" She tilted her head back, the crown of all isles glinting in the light, but it was of Scotland she favored the best. A Highland voice carried easily to the highest part of Dun Darroch as she gave reply and awaited ceremony's answer.


*


The castle was taken aback by the break in day decorum demonstrated by the oldest of the royal heirs. No elder could chastise them thoroughly enough, for what child could remain still at the thought of so much open adventure? The prince saw to it that his practice armor and weapons took the presidence of all other necessity. He saw to it that the horse from his Eohmark was curried for it would accompany them. Aimlee took to the duty instead of seeing those men that assisted Aodhan's rituals packed for the prince the proper clothing for a child his age. He would need things to appease both the practical and the necessity of looking his station. It was, indeed, one of his first official invitations to go elsewhere on the Island besides the immediate vacinity of what was around Turas Lan. No one could contain his smiles! He had become so serious since he became a squire, so determined to age so that he could right what was wrong in the world.


Even his knight remarked that in the absence of his squire, it would be good for the boy to remember he was still young. He would instead assume the posture of a member of the guard that would follow the King, Prince, and Princess to Struan.


Davina simply couldn't wait to relay her fortune to all, be it maid, lady of the court, or playfellow. She shrieked down the hall instead of her usual floating glide, for she too was possessed of grace beyond her years. The usually gentle girl had been infused with Aodhan's sense of glee and her father's promise of delight. Oh what fun! To see balls, performers, and in another castle too! To see the world from beyond her bedroom window for what girl was not protected, so beloved and sheltered? Oh aye, they escaped to the secret places in both castle and garden. Turas Lan was her immortal beloved. The Cullins her play sisters, but to travel? It was only in her room that she tried to assume the posture of a 'grand lady'. "Wot will we put in the boxes? Ah should like tae take somethin blue, n' them somethin pink tae wear please. May Ah have m'sea pearls and small diamond band fer m'brow instead o' the plain gold? Ah want tae look m'best sae tha mo---Her Majesty n' His Majesty are most proud." The maidens giggled, and she turned up her head to the Lady Heather for approval. "Very good, little one! Tha' was very comely o' a Lady." By the time Heather was again at the Queen's side instead of minding the Household with the Chamberlain, she would have much to relay of Davina's progress. The girl was keen. These were things that Heather hoped to share as well with the likes of the three women greater than she: Lady Windsor, Lady Campbell, and Lady Inveryne. She was but the fourth, and looked up to the three women to walk sage in their presence, for had it not been for her presence on the day this golden child was born, she would only be the lowest of handmaidens, and not among the Maids of Honor. Even then, she was perhaps the only Honor Maid who stood on the same footing as the grand three, despite her lack of marriage .

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

No reply was given to Caldean's irritated response. He silently let the bodyguard draw close to his charge. The wrinkled brim resumed swiveling over the enthusiastic crowd. Extending and retracting hands were followed, as were the faces among the crowd. The analytical observation noted that the crowd did not have complete solidarity in its revelry. There were many Robertson tartans which cheered heartily, but the hopeful smiles came from people that were more plainly dressed. He did not see a single tartan among them, though the quality of clothing did not appear to be much poorer.

One family group that was passed by the he head of the procession smiled and cheered, but their daughter pouted with an outstretched posy that had not been plucked in the shower of esteem. The hulking frame nudged the horse closer and leaned forward in the saddle. A rough and calloused hand touched hers gently before accepting the posy. It disappeared under the brim before he tossed it back lightly to the family.

Attention never really strayed from the Queen and her honor guard. As they passed under the torches, keen eyes shaded from the glare of the lights witnessed the furtive exchange between the banners. The messenger's tartan was recognized, and it bore clarity. Before Bess would make her declaration, the darkly clad figure nudged his horse to a trot and wheeled it around while standing in the stirrups. Trotting now toward the crowd that had closed to follow, he swayed in a bowing salute to them and wheeled the steed back to a halt at the rear of the group. The hearty voice rumbled a single word in the same low, quiet tone that reached their ears only. "Argyll..."

The word rang in her ears before she issued out her call, lodged in her brain as she considered what was being said. Argyll. She wanted there to be at least one brave enough to come up with their fuedal lords because the lands bordered one another. Indeed, Beathag needed to see an Argyll, to speak with one, as much as she needed to find one Robertson untainted by the spoils of his Laird's success. One unbiased, open minded, loyal Roberston. One Argyll. Was that possible amid all of this opulence? Her memory didn't remember a Struan so vast. Dun Darroch was larger now. There was much cultivated farmland. Across the torch lit landscape the scent of a not so distant sea mingled with the water in the loch.

Caldean lingered by the banner as he watched the woman step back. Soon, he rejoined the party to form the tight knit trio. Beathag's questioning glance was met with silence for an answer. Until he read the paper, he had nothing to tell. It was evident that Trades already filled her in enough so that her eyes glanced at the paper he would read as soon as chance permitted. Would he conceal it from Beathag? No. Would he relay what the woman would say? "Have a care, she said," he muttered before adusting himself in the saddle, "Sae then."

The day of departure would come and go… the streets were lined up with people wishing to see the King and the royal heirs… Prince Aodhan and Princess Davina… The King and Prince would ride atop white horses, covered by a field of black, trimmed in gold; the gold Griffin seal upon a corner of the field of black. Behind them was the royal carriage, with Princess Davina and Lady Heather… behind them were guards and yet another carriage… those for the servants of the children. Surrounding all of them upon the exit from the city would be the royal guards… Adam’s own gold Talons… save one, the WeaponsMaster.

The exit from the Griffin Castle and still again from the city gates were cheers and songs of joyous emotions for the royal family… Davina leaned from the window of the carriage, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. Adam counld not help but smile to see the faces of the people… not the dirty, sooty, or bloody stained faces of those he last saw during the wars, but those of true emotions… free from aggression and oppression… He looked back and saw the crowd cheering Davina and how popular she was… and his heart sang… for he envisioned his Mother looking down from Heaven and smiling… and he looked up and blew a kiss.

Adam wore the black and gold robes of the king, the crown and jewels of kingly accruments stowed in the carriage, but his son sat erect in the saddle, the armour weighing him down… but he demonstrated no weakening of stature… the flag of the Griffin blew in the wind as he gripped the ploe and readjusted the end to set upon the toe of his boot. Behind Aodhan, his knight rode proud to be such a mentor for such a grand student.

For hours, the slower pace would take its toll upon the Princess and ladies as they napped, but Aodhan, despite his age, rode solid in the saddle. His Father placed his hand upon the lad’s shoulders. “Nae shame ‘n retirin’ young knight… tis but a coupla more hours…” But the young lad, the son of a King, shook his head and readjusted the standard pole. “Nae Da… I am fine… my place is beside you…” and Adam smiled and just nodded… knowing full well, the lad would be sore the next day.

Time and toil wore on as the distance to Struan would shorten… soon a rider would return and informed the King that Struan was again filled with people lining the streets… With permission granted, the Princess and Ladies were awakened for entry top the city.

The hearty timbre hushed further to but a whisper. The shade over his features revealed no movement of his lips. He spoke clearly enough for the two at his side, but gave no more intonation to the words than if he were counting. To an onlooker, the three would have appeared to be simply waiting. "An appeal for their sake, or a warning for our own? Ye intend tae relieve the Argylls of their political plight, do ye nae, Bess? I know ye take pity on others' suffering, and disdain oppression. The Argylls know it, and I bet the Robertsons know it too. The easiest way tae make enemies is tae try and change something." His bulk leaned back in the saddle, letting the leather creak as the weather-beaten brim briefly tilted up toward the battlements before leveling again. "The more I see, the more certain I become. If'n we go inside, these halls will smell of blood afore we leave. Three people in an unfamiliar and hostile castle stand at a huge disadvantage, and the best way out of a trap is nae tae go in it."

"Ah smell blood tae, Jack, but it is bleedin out in their infamy. Down in Sleat, beyond Waternish. There is more than opression between one side n' the next. Secrets. Ah detest them, n' wot ye will see in the nobility is tha' they come tae play this war without a single drop o' blood shed between them, usin their lesser. The Power o' the King, and now... his Queen, must be made stronger than this. Fuedin' seems ancient rite, but the cost o' it tha' woman can pay." She meant the Argyll, vanished from under the banners. "The King will follow in our steps, n' a full griffin Retinue. But hours. Can we last mere hours, a mere day? Ah think we can. Ye n' Ah have survived the true killin' fields… Let us see if we might one o' the mind." Up to the gates, and beyond, went she.

A short grumble rumbled within the barrel chest. "Waiting for reinforcements..." A nudge pushed his mount at a walk following the Queen. As they were greeted, the walking shadow came to a stop near and slightly behind the Queen, just out of direct conversation. There it sat silently as if she had brought a statue as a birthday gift and wrapped it in oilskin so as not to spoil the surprise.

The crowd parted as clanmen pushed and directed people from the path. “Make way faer the Laird…” their voices rang out. Behind the lead guards were four men carrying a litter, and upon the litter was the Laird of the reigning clan in the area, Lord Alexander. The feeble man, of ill-heath raised his head and a woman in noble clothing of the clan pushed a pillow under his shoulders, propping him up. The old man saw the Queen upon the horse and bowed his head the best he could… “Mae Queen… Yaer Majestry, welcome tae Stru’n…” Behind him, the Lady Keliana had curtsied deep in respect of the monarch.

Such a show Alexander had put on, hoping to gain favor by impressing the monarchy as he had in the days of Edward I and II… “Ah pray yaer trip was most favorable… and th’t Struan shall provide yae the utmost gracious welcome…” then he glanced up a bit… “Ah ‘ave prepared Yaer Majesty a fair place in Dun Darroch… Since mae invalidity o’ legs ‘ave deprived mae the opportunity of escorting Yaer Majesty, Ah offer mae Son’s wife as escort…” He had planned Keliana to be the first of the nobles to welcome the new monarch and to demonstrate their submission, he offered her to walk before the Queen’s horses to the Castle. He of course, would be brought to the Castle by his carriers post haste.

Adam, Aodhan, and Davina would be a mere day behind the Queen and Jack… As soon as the pair had departed, Adam began the preparations to follow. Now, the King and his entourage were lest than a half-day’s ride behind them… for several reasons… One he wanted to be with his wife, and therefore he closed Parliament early… Two, he wanted to show off the royal children… and Three, the most concerning, was the report of the war in Sleat… he did not want to be upon the road, should things turn for the worse and move north. The southern MacDonald had invaded during the strife already started, bringing the mere spousal squabble to a full embattlement. The MacDonald had been stopped in the Cartervalle Valley, but Carver had escaped… and the clan armies of Skye remained camped outside the Abbey tending their wounded and preparing the return of the dead. Hence the reason Adam wanted to put all this behind him... and decreed that all those responsible be arrested and brought to Struan for trial. The Griffin messenger sent out before Adam's departure... the Griffin Company in Sleat would do the fulfillment of the King's decree and arrest those responsible.

The trek of the royal family north was as much about pompt and circumstance as it was about the venturing about their new kingdom… A new path to the future? Adam had hoped so, for the new King and Queen refused to be locked behind castle walls.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Days of Arrival, and the Time Thereafter

The festivity around the solemn mind of the visit could not erase the mixture of joy at the exuberant, pure love of her people. At the same time, Beathag understood that a wolf's claws were going to scratch. The beast was old, old as sin itself. Alexander Robertson looked as if he should have turned to dust years ago. The litter that bore him put the scent of his medicine and stagnant being outward on the wind to offend the nose. She didn't display that offense. It was better to let her eyes tear at the intense sting of his ointment than feel the slash marks of the beast's claws. Why was it in looking at him she saw the Beast? He was an old man..

Yet no man was to old to cause harm. This man had outlived Edward I, Edward II, and Robert Bruce. He would outlive the Aberdeen legacy if he had a mind to. Words like honey flowed from his mouth as if they should be colored silver and gold. " Ye are kind, M'laird Robertson, n' yer people are most welcomin'. M'company and I are pleased tha' ye would take us sae. Hospitality rite is far exceedin our expectation!" She chuckled. The world laughed with her. Caldean couldn't help but to smile if only to stifle the unmitigated want to be done with the contents of his stomach in a bush. Suddenly, the words of the Argyll woman rang hard in his head:

"Have a care."

He canted his head over toward the man in black at the moment the Lady Keilana Robertson was presented. This was the wife of Laird Iain Alexander, mother of his children, and never far behind the litter of this decrepid man if memory correctly served. Nothing could be said by him right now. It wasn't his time. It was Beathag's time. She was dependent on her own navigation now as Queen among the 'noble' servants. The wolves. All with claws reaching.

"M'trip was favorable, Laird Alexander, tis nay tae hard tae ride from Turas Lan tae Struan upon the back o' a horse, the carriage would have been a terrible bore n' nay chance tae enjoy the region's beauty. Ah, the wife o' yer successor, an honor." The woman on high leaned her head down to greet he woman below before following the pretty thing through on toward the Castle. Laird Alexander was behind them, and against custom she summoned the men to ride beside her as opposed to a linear fashion so they occupied all of the path as it pleased them. "Onward then, tae Dun Darroch! If yer festivities be as pleasin' as yer welcome, wot fine things ah shall have tae tell his majesty."

In due time they dismounted from the horses, which allowed the first true proximity for the party to enjoy. A moment's respite before the Lady of Dun Darroch came to oversee their needs, she would lean in to Jack, "M'eyes upon them all at court bid watch the young lady, with care. She is led by the Old Man, no doubt. He seems tae have much power for a dyin man, nearly tae much. Speculation is o' little meanin sae we need substantial proof. O' somethin. Anythin. " She wasn't desperate to cleave at straws. Her brother put a hand to her arm, "The King is but a day behind ye, n' we are with you now. Trust yourself, Beathag. Aye? Adam would nay share equal rule with ye if he did not."

For a moment she wondered if she led them hence to festivity only. What if her suspicions were wrong? No, they weren't wrong. In this, she couldn't be! As they made headway to their fine suites and became settled into a life of suffered indulgence, Broadford was reduced to cinders. The South was crying for justice, for appeasement, for the sense of logic the sovereigns promised while rejoicing in the passion only clan legend could bring. At the center of this was rising a storm that would consume far more than those who despised or loved MacGregor and Robertson. There would be more than MacDonald traitors to contend with. Within the household now was the woman who told them have a care, an indentured servant to the Robertson from Argyll named Qynn. Her father could not pay his taxes, nor did her mother survive. They would not allow her to enter the holy service for the family debt had not been paid, and it was so deemed she would serve the Robertson for no less than seven years of her life. Seven long years, of which had already passed no less than three. Nineteen now, she appeared on the road beside Caldean, captured the eye of Jack, and her message now lodged in the Queen's ears.

She was not out to kill the Queen or wreak havoc, but knew that the only good to come from her indentured servitude would be a chance to set Argyll free and Waternish to return to a better rule. Indeed, the old Chieftain had made a terrible mistake in marrying the wrong Robertson to his daughter, and how dearly they paid for this misadventure when their realm already stood on the edge of a knife.

*

The First Night, End of the First Day

The Queen looked down on Dun Darroch from her balcony. Not far, a woman of Dun Darroch put away the bowl of water that had washed her Majesty's hands and fingers clean of the day's dirt. What could wash away excitement, or worry? No water could wash away feeling unless the reciever of the absolution let it. She did not want to surrender the sensation for surrendering the reason they afforded her. "His Majesty will be here on the morning, Your Majesty, n' yer son n' daughter. Is tha' nay pleasin? Then ye shall have yer family, n' yer own ladies. Such as it is ye left afore them, but we admire your excitement." The petty pandering was sweet enough, but it had nothing of the soul every one of her lady's had. How she missed their laughter, their sisterhood, their shared counsel. As it was, no one could stay the same forever. Until tomorrow she still had to make do without her Maid of Honor,Heather. With them would come other ladies but of her most privy, beloved women she wasn't sure if she would find one. "Aye, indeed." "Wot was it like at the coronation, where there many?" The constant sqawking was something men were priveleged to escape, but for entertaining the kindness, she entertained the stupidity too.

"Aye indeed, there were vera many...Ah'm tired, m'girl. Leave the rest tae be."
"Oh but my lady your hair will knot if it is nay combed n' yer feet...wot o' yer bed turned down.."
"Please, you worry sae needlessly. Ah'm nay an invalid."
"The Lady Keliana will.."
"Ye may tell yer Lady tha' the Queen will sacrifice ceremony fer a night's sleep."

The last was so clipped that the servant didn't protest. Feeling rejected, she turned her attention to a lesser girl with bowed head who was just about to touch the sheets when she hissed at her, "Let it be! Her Majesty shall attend it!" She backed from the bed, as if it were hot to the touch. Giving a deep curtsy,she was moving from the room when something caught the eye of the Queen. All moves of fortune are said to happen most often because something 'catches the eye' of the sovereign. It was said each of the women in the lady's company from the highest Lady to the lowest cook was no one that the Queen didn't know. So it was in Struan she found something kindred in a doormouse. "Please, leave me be. Nay, ye remain." The higher servant was aghast and would be sure to make life no easier for the girl after this. That girl, by fortune's decree, was Qynn of Waternish. She was so used to no longer saying 'Argyll' she shuttered at the mention of her own heritage.

In the soft light of the candles, Beathag stepped forward to look on the girl with lowered eyes. When they were completely alone, she lifted her chin. "Despite modesty or the way one keeps themselves 'bout, tis nay e'en the place of a servant tae look sae low as tae have sunk intae the ground. Especially nay one tha' said with care tae have the same. Ye are an Argyll, then?" The girl said nothing until the firm tone of the Queen's bid her to speak, where in she humbled herself to near be on her knees, "Please. Yer Majesty, m'kinsmen came upon the road n' Ah had nay seen them in o'er a year....I could nay help it..please yer majesty fergive me for speakin ill o' turn tae yer guard. It was wrong of me.."


"There is nay wrong n' fealty, girl. Wot is yer name?"
"Qynn, madame. Qynn of Waternish.."
"An Argyll."
"Please, yer majesty....I am not permitted..."
"Tae dae wot.."
"Say m'lineage .It displeases the Lady of Dun Darroch, if it is heard I'll be punished."

She paced, nodding, "We will see tha' this is nay given great o'erdoin. I will say I scolded ye for somewot..will tha' present better than the truth?"


"Yes."
"Sae be it. The guard ye warned was m'brother."
"Oh yer majesty I am sorry!"
"Be not sorry, Qynn. Ye gave him somewot. Tell him the meanin o' it, tha' is my solemn charge o' ye. But endure a little n' ye shall be rewarded for your service tae me. This will be above yer kin or yer Laird Robertson. Why are ye e'en here.."
"My family had a deb tha' could not be paid. I am the payment. Indentured."


That was little better than legal slavery.

"Be gone, Qynn. Get you tae my men, Caldean of Aberdeen, The Agent o' the Court, Master Jack. Manage it. Tell them wot it is tae have a care o' and I will believe ye without fail. If ye may appear somehow in yer clan tartan yet fear the mention o' a name there is glory in you yet."

Soon, she was alone. Yet not really. It would be a long time until morning. On that day, both the King, and words from an old friend would appear.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Arrival of the King

The arrival of the Griffin Banners, far in the lead of the King’s entourage, would lure on-lookers alongside the road to Struan… signal horns were blown, announcing the King’s arrival. Soon people from all over the countryside would travel miles to witness Skye’s own Prince. His arm waved to the crowd, his son, riding beside, smiled and waved as well… the children in the carriage were waving, adorned with fine clothing, and smiles…

Riders would journey saddleless toward the city announcing the King’s arrival… How had he become so popular? Or was this a ruse for the new regal…? His land? Was it truly HIS land, or was he just a figurehead?? The troubles in England, Spain, and even in the interior of his own country would cause him to pause in his optimistic thinking. Now he must pass judgment upon high ranking clan members in a war he tried, although vauinly, to stop… Still, he greeted the on-llookers with a smile and a head held erect.

In Struan, there would be streets lined with people, Griffin banners of black and gold… and intermixed, smaller banners of clan septs… Robertson, MacLeod, Collier, Colyear, Donachie, Dunnachie, Inches, MacConachie, MacDonachie, Macinroy, MacIvor, Maclagan MacRobert, MacRobie Reid, Roberts, Roy , Stark, and Tonnachy. All displayed for the King’s graces to eye upon them.

In the distance, Adam smiled seeing Dun Durroch upon the hill overlooking the city. All this was more than he could accept, though he showed no signs of toil. Though one thing he did notice was the lack of representation of the Argyll. A short whisper to the lieutenant, and th man would ride back to the second carriage, of which his Lord of the Great Seal and Secretary rode.

At the gates of Dun Durroch, soldiers saluted as he and his rode thru them. Atop a dais, a stage of sorts, to the left, stood his beloved wife, flanked by Caldean and Jack Trades, amongst other leading soldiers… to the opposite side, upon a cot, lay Lord Alexander… and beside him, Lady Keliana… and other senior members of the Robertson and MacLeod clans…

The children had been instructed of protocol upon arrival by the Lord Great Chamberlain, and in secret had practiced it, so when all was said and done, Adam was more than pleased. But it was Adam that dismounted first, stepping from stirrup to ground; followed by Prince Aodhan… Before the Queen, Adam bowed… “Madam…” Then he moved to kiss her.

Behind him, Aodhan… moving forward, dressed in formal armour, knelt… “Your Majesty…” then as she spoke, he moved to kiss her cheek… “yer lovely mother…” he whispered and moved to stand at her side…

As the Prince moved, Princess Davina stepped up, curtseying deep… “Your Majesty…” and as the Queen spoke… Davina approached her Mother, kissing her cheek, whispering… “This is great Mother, absolutely great.” Wanting to giggle, but refrained remembering what Theodore had instructed.

Once the formalities were over, there before the people, stood most of the immediate royal family… and the crowd erupted into cheers, never heard of in Struan for decades.

In time, Lord Alexander would be moved before the King, and the herald announced him, but the King would only flick his wrist to have him removed; giving a bad taste in Alexander’s mouth… the crowd hushing, then bit by bit broke into separate conversations.

Then Adam stood and moved to the edge of the stage… “Great people o’ Struan… Ah sincerely appreciate the grand welcoom… baet Ah must judge those of Skye who ‘ave been charged wit High Treason… a task Ah dunnae relish… Yaer grandiose welcoom has a place in mae heart… always an’ faerever… Baet let us nae forget our task at hand…” he looks back at Lord Alexander and Keliana… then back to the crowd… “My reports ‘ave been gathered… and a decision shall bae made, baet Ah wish tae hear many sides… and any tha’ wish an audience tae state their valid winess, Ah shall receive them… Ah shall dae sae until those charged ‘ave arrived…” then he regally turned and spoke to his family… “We shall retire to our chambers for a reunion… upon the morrow, Ah and the Queen shall receive witnesses…” he glanced at Lord Alexander then back to the herald. “State my desires…” then he and his family moved inside the castle at the behest and direction of Iain Robertson’s Lord Chamberlain.

Among the suites, the newly appointed agent proved frustrating to the servants. Levied with specific instructions that ran mostly counter to their custom and training, they tired of apologizing for infractions just as the unwavering taskmaster tired of correcting them. Within the night's time, service was delivered at the doorstep in lieu of within the chamber. Trades had a room to himself, which suited just fine.

But before the flow of servants stopped at the door, contact was made with the woman of Argyll. The exchange was brief, but ended with the agent pressing a small, flat-handled blade into her hands. "Hide this on yer person. Be careful. What ye do, and surely what the Queen will ask of ye will garner nae favor from yer current masters. They will nae have qualms over killing a servant tae preserve their power. Whatever ye do, ensure that ye survive." With that, he turned her out into the hallway with a gruff word.

During the festivities and grand entrance of the King, the stolid frame stayed at the periphery; a shadow that hung close to the Queen. If the pomp made him feel anything at all, there was no indication of such. Though at an opportune moment in private, a whispered grumble would reach her ears. "It seems ye were nae entirely forthcoming with me about our reasons fer bein' here."

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Aodhan rode on trying to emulate his father in all things. He waved to the people around him while thinking: Do they truly care for me, or do they care for me only because of Father? Will this all ever really be mine... I must sit straighter, they will see me better if I am straighter...this was but one line in a perpetual saga of thought, an epidemic that flared the mind to quickness. It would never be healed. Aodhan would always believe he had to be twice what any other boy was to become twice the man they might become, not just because he was a prince, but because of what the time in Aberdeen had told him the truth of. His dark skin received a person or three who stared too long only to lower their eyes while others had learned to become oblivious when so many of different national marks lived so out in the open. It was a time unlike any other, a time when a youth like him could really have a chance at something better than any of his family would have. He looked at Adam, the man he called father, and saw the smile on his face was most benevolent. Did the people love him for looking that way? All he would be as a king would be modeled on moments like this.

Yet the King questioned the love of his subjects no different than Aodhan questioned his place in the world. The Clan banners waved with no sign of another one of the region's oldest, and should have been powerful families. One wrong move and it all went awry. Yet did the Robertsons have as much power over the Argyll as they were entitled, or was it abused? A family afraid to show its support in sign was afraid to speak in life. Would he remember that as his son remembered the way he looked that day?

Davina awoke in her carriage when notified that Struan was but a breath away (at least for her) her excitement made the ladies laugh for their Princess laughed. So young, all the world was possible for Davina. She too had responsibility to adhere to, protocol. Would it be expected of her to carry on in poise what Aodhan did in strength? Still of a tender age, she was used to her brother, mother, sister, and all who knew her playing games of catch the girl about the fountain in the garden. At the same time, she was not ignorant to what she was being groomed for. She was born a princess from the moment of her birth, just as Aodhan knew what he was. She had never been without her own retinue of ladies, a nurse, nor a guard to see to her safety. All she knew was a world of love coupled with a world of castles. It wasn't all fun and games, oh no! There were lessons in how to be a lady, what languages to speak, what books to read, and things to know. She learned to play the harp, to be gentle in manners, to embroider, and to ride a horse with prowess, pride, and feminine grace. It was exciting to have the chance to act as a member of the royal family, so often had she seen Aodhan out on official outings with Father that it made her small heart jealous. Now it was her turn!

Beathag watched from the dias the progression of the party on the road. She stood with her full height showing with no sort of hump in her back or discrepency to be seen. The woman who had come to Skye by boat learned enough to be a driving force in the reign. Her oddity was translated better in to what it meant to look the part of what she was, to give it a new sort of mind as her own was neither feeble, infirm, or so ill tempered there was nothing good about it. In all of her years, even the earlier ones, the woman was strikingly intelligent. It was only the blade that showed prominence first, but now the outside matched the inside, so to speak. The possibility of her silence was as common now as the knowledge of her tenderness. Her fiery passion translated better in speech our council as she conquered the realm of court with ease. No, it did not mean she enjoyed it. She enjoyed Adam's advance, and not this ridiculous stage show. She enjoyed the fact her children would soon be with her, but loathed this stupid display of them before the populace. Wouldn't they have a chance to see them enough? It was on the inward she sighed, for the Lord Great Chamberlain would have died ten deaths if she showed anything on the outside. The man had a difficult job, trying to bring decorum to an unusual family. If truth could be told the Lord Great Chamberlain, above any man's one chamberlain in the islands, was pleased with the fact the family were so unorthodox they embraced his orthodoxy as if he were some uncle come to correct them. The way of life was becoming infectious. He simply didn't tell Adam that, or his reputation would be ruined.

Much to his credit, the Chamberlain along with the masterful household heads had fashioned pure perfection out of the family. "Yer Majesty, my laird," said the wife to husband, Queen to King. She received his affection, then Aodhan's after a chivalrous kneel. Look at how large he was! The armor on him had taken her breath away. Only eleven, he would have a grown man's height by 12 with the years giving him far too many additions. He complimented her beauty, so she whispered back, "Thank ye sweet'eart," only to be drawn in with pride to Davina. Was she not simply divine? It was hard to contain her own excitement when the girl approached with her own, so at least the day was not a duldrum in that."Ye will enjoy it." The children would be occupied, this she would see to. Lessons still to be had with exploration of the country, games, riding excursions, a hunt for the young gentleman and a day for the young ladies. They would not be caught up in the ill boding business the King drew attention to now.

The roaring cheer deadened as the King shooed away the advance of his host! How put upon the old man looked when he was not given his due. Good heavens, she thought, wouldn't the man die or was his hateful baring what fueled his heartbeat? Adam was not detered from business, so she would not be. Oh yes, she'd come and had been 'dazzled' by all the festivities when she called on the right of hospitality, but the glitter wasn't blinding enough. With Adam here, there would be nothing left to try. Would Alexander and Keilana be so bold as to host balls while the Lord of the Castle lay rotting under it? The image was not one she wouldn't put past the pair in to making real. There was so much for her to tell Adam, that she was pleased when he said it was time for them to retire to chambers.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

(Letter, from the Lord Guardian to His Majesties)


To Their Esteemed, Sovereign Majesties,

My friends,

I have learned the way of things and am much aggrieved by the way in which our realm is coming to be so soon during your new, and blessed reign. It is still a young reign, and in fearing for our people who live as family I fear for you both. Do you know that all you have written of to me and mine is expounded thrice o'er? I can find no sign of the General, nor his wife. The Weapon's Master no doubt is overburdened, having returned from Lewis-Harris, having seen the state of the Elite Ranger his sister. Oh my friends. My kindred. Beathag my sister, Adam my brother. I have stood at the foot of the ranger's bed to see her listless. You are much aggrieved at these tidings. You are stricken, I know. You have gone to Struan to make a bold, just point. There is no rule stronger than your rule. There is no law stronger than your law. Regrettably, as I have come to learn in my own experiences as a Chieftain, there is a code more ancient than any of our places.

Family is everything. The way of a name should not mean what one will become but we are bound to this, all of us. We either must live up to or defy our very lineage. While learning of the ranger in fishing village and seeing the outcome of the Austrian's abandonment, I saw Charlie McSween bandaged. What cause has had to be bandaged among soldiers? His tale will give all of you pause as it gave me pause.

He is a MacSween, as is Grufford. They went hence to Broadford on learning of the danger that was there from Carver MacDonald's call to arms for his kindred. Those that did not answer did so out of loyalty to you, their peace, and wanting no affiliation with the disgusting nature of him. For this, he slaughtered them all. Then he went about the town. As you know Broadford is mixed hence between the MacSween that keep it, a MacDonald partnership as it is a border land, and those who simply settle. There are few left to testify. I can not write what he told me all of, for it is not proper for the ears of your lady Adam, but let it be said there is nothing left of Broadford. He witnessed Cartevalle, and said of his own word that Dublain mac Dugal rode to Kyleakin to cease the breaking of this vile war to the North. He rode with band of mixed men, mixed clans, to cease Carver's advance with mainland forces.

It is my belief that this is not a battle of traitors here, but now a battle of the Griffin seeking to stop the true treason there. I can not attest for the crimes of the men commited before Kyleakin, but must commit myself to this battle. If I do not, there will be none to witness without bias, and none to carry your banner without failure. I do not know what men you will commit to me for this cause, if any at all. In the absence of your other fellows I would ask of your majesties to allow me the chance to lead a suitable company of men to Kyleakin to assist in the ending of this battle. To find the truth for you, and to find the truth for the MacSween. There will be nothing left of them if they are found guilty of treason. Some may be worth of it, but what little of them are not will faulter.

I can not speak of Robertson or MacGregor, but among the greater are also lesser. I speak only for myself as your man. I will bring my Liliana to you at Struan, so you, Beathag might have a lady of valor in your valorious company. Both of you have need of the other, and Adam should you have need of me but ask. Know I can not stay, and my time in Struan will be short. God pray you grant my request. God keep you.

The Lord Guardian

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

A Moment- Beathag and Jack Trades, during the King's Arrival, and Jack and Qynn of Waternish, Prior

Among the suites, the newly appointed agent proved frustrating to the servants. Levied with specific instructions that ran mostly counter to their custom and training, they tired of apologizing for infractions just as the unwavering taskmaster tired of correcting them. Within the night's time, service was delivered at the doorstep in lieu of within the chamber. Trades had a room to himself, which suited just fine.

But before the flow of servants stopped at the door, contact was made with the woman of Argyll. The exchange was brief, but ended with the agent pressing a small, flat-handled blade into her hands. "Hide this on yer person. Be careful. What ye do, and surely what the Queen will ask of ye will garner nae favor from yer current masters. They will nae have qualms over killing a servant tae preserve their power. Whatever ye do, ensure that ye survive." With that, he turned her out into the hallway with a gruff word.

During the festivities and grand entrance of the King, the stolid frame stayed at the periphery; a shadow that hung close to the Queen. If the pomp made him feel anything at all, there was no indication of such. Though at an opportune moment in private, a whispered grumble would reach her ears. "It seems ye were nae entirely forthcoming with me about our reasons fer bein' here."


Qynn moved with the fastest of the feet around the suites, for it seemed nothing could be done well enough, lax enough, decent enough, or merely was too much for the new agent of the Crown. By the time they were done and Jack was done of them, they rumbled in whispers about this disagreeable guest. He had no manners, no couth. At least the others of the court had garnered manners over time. What of him? Come with the wind, gone with it. Trading in one moment for another glory. What right did he have to be there? Qynn found she wanted to laugh for the first time in years. He was so cantankerous he made the old man Alexander seem a treat. Still, by the time she made contact with him she was two shades of pale again.

"I do nay think her Majesty would ask such things, n' tis m'self tha' does it sir, nay her. I dun want to commit murder." Still, she took the dagger, pressing it against herself before turning. For the sake of modesty, he would not be privy to her making the item vanish inside of her bodice. When she turned around again, she bit at her lip nervously "I dun want to die sir, but e'en death would be freedom compared to what's been done here. I told you to have a care, I've lived in it fer years. Endurin' it will be more taxin for you. I believe, with ye here...n' the Queen, now the King, tha' there will be freedom."

Lingering no longer than was needed, Qynn dropped a curtsy before moving away with no more words for Jack. Her thoughts were teeming, and for the first time since coming to Dun Darroch she felt alive.

*

On the platform, before Adam could come upon them Beathag heard the whisper of the agent. This was her reply:

"Ah've been forthcoming, Trades. Ah said Ah was comin' tae see wot the Robertson were made of n' find the truth. Twas nay m'knowledge the King would follow n' hold a trial here bouts with court convenin' tae make an example o' them on their own land. Ah have nay need tae lie." If she could have, she would have glared at him. Would he be forthcoming if he accused her of withholding? It would be interesting to see. he didn't have to come after all. Yet wouldn't it be fascinating to see what would happen as he stayed? A powerful series of points were going to be made. He distrusted the nobility, the government, and in some ways her despite the mutual respect they shared. She disliked being insulted, and above all being told she wasn't honest.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

A Moment- Beathag and Adam in Struan

A Moment in Time – Adam and Bess in Struan
(as written by the players of the pair)

The day had been long, and protocol finally faded to the pair being relinquished to their chambers. For the past few days, Bess had managed upon her own; the children spending an unusual amount of time with their Father, and of course, training with the Lord Great Chamberlain for this visit. As usual, Bess was comfortable with Adam disappearing for days, standing in Parliament, or upon another King’s court politicking, but for her children, he has been by their side since birth, save for Aodhan. But now, she had ventured alone, basically, and the reunion upon this day meant something more special than the usual…

The time had been golden in the hour glass and she could have frozen it forever. To hold her son and daughter was like holding mana from heaven. She supped on their love. She was eager to please them for she was aptly pleased already by their mere presence. Her daughter looked to have grown inches with an intellect far too many years ahead! How comely she was in the gown she picked, and how handsome Aodhan had been in his full armor. In but a few short years he would wear it to battle. He ached for his coming of age, angry at a law of the household that prevented his joining for the sake of preservation when still there were boys who held jobs younger than him, still on battle's edge. The King and Queen couldn't stop time from aging their children, but they could stop decision from doing so. Davina was much the same. She wanted only to be among the ladies weaving daisy chains, discussing life decisions while at the same time insisting in her own gentle way to be heard for more than her ravishing beauty.

What did the King and Queen, by their age, wish to be known for?

His action earlier in the day demonstrated that he, the King, would speak to whom, and when, he wished… He would not cottle one leader for another, nor listen to idle horsechyt when brave and courageous men’s lives hung in the balance. He had all the reports, and soon the trial would begin… Meanwhile, he would put his own children to bed, kissing each one good night… to the amazement of the house staff.

When the children were finally asleep in a room but a breath away from the suite that now occupied two instead of one. (Imagine the maid's surprise when she learned the King still kept a bed with his Lady despite the production of heirs), Beathag resumed the old custom of communicating deep thoughts before the mind surrendered to the dark. It was she who removed her husband's armor, just as he had unlaced her stays. Together they adminstered ritual on one another until each was attired and ready for bed. The mind, however, was always the last thing to go slow.

"Ahdam, already there are things tha' the mind will ne'er forget. There is an Argyll girl here, yet she can nay be revealed lest her life be made harder fer it. Her name is Qynn, n' the first thing she tells Caldean is… ‘have a care’. She's thrust between one family's desire n' another family's opression. Ah wonder how many there are like her, caught in the crosshairs. For a moment Ah wondered if ah had the stomache tae dae this e'en an hour more without ye."

It was an intimate ritual they often enjoyed, that being King and Queen would have limitations to, but they reserved certain rites for themselves… Unlike their fellow Princes and Princesses, they opted to perform certain personal rituals for themselves, reserving the privy for their later, invalid years, Gods forbid. After they were completely undressed, the attendees released, Adam plopped onto the bed, rearranging his nightgown and placing his hands, fingers interlaced behind his head, watched her brush her long golden hair… a sight he loved to watch. As she did, she began to speak of the trip, the arrival, and a subject that was stuck upon her mind.

He looked at Bess in the mirror. “Have a care?” he questioned. “Ah dun trust old man Robertson… Ah know young Iain is a bit untamed… baet Ah dun think he bae insane enuff tae bae treasonous… Lord Secretary has brought some land holding deals tae presence… minor quirks in the seals…” He then sat up… “Ah noticed nae Argyll banners amongst all the rest… dae they s’pose mae blind nae tae notice?”

He rubbed his chin… “Much is asunder ‘ere tha’ we dunnae know… that bae faer sure…”

The servants often spoke of a jest between them: the day the King and Queen took full rite of service on all aspects of life was the day they gave themselves over to Death itself. The life expectancy of the two, at forty with vigorous heirs was suspected to be nearly twenty years, thirty. The bright blessing in it all was how much they still enjoyed service to one another. As Adam put on his nightgown, she ran the brush through her hair. No sign of gray or white took out the perfection of perfect flaxen gold. Steadily, one brush stroke was followed by the smoothing of her free hand, only for it to occur again. He repeated her words to her through the mirror, and she saw his face in the glass to say, "Ah 'ne'er have trusted him. E'er since the time when the young Robertson in our former guard rose n' fell from glory, n' Iain came tae bein, e'er since the match between the former youth n' the Argyll's daughter..things have been...worse than prior times. The Argyll have ne'er been as afamed as their neighbors, yet nay this destitute. The men saw but one Argyll in their tartan, n' tha' was the girl. She was afraid, afraid o' her own colors. Iain is passionate, but he is ne'er cruel. He has fought with durty n' courage. This borders on cruelty. A whole people. Afraid. Ah've heard words o' the cattle raids tha' happen in Struan yet they say nay word. Surely the Argylls are behind it, hopin tae cause a stir..but now tha' Sleat is o'er..how they must suffer more. The Robertson will entertain us with parties n' grand things, and here we are tae try him on his own home, is tha' nay strange tae ye. Ah take up the offer o' hospitality n' they e'en insist this be done..tae make an example o' their Laird ,tae humiliate the one they want tae redeem? Nay." She looked at his reflection before turning around to where he was on the bed. "The Robertson has lived through the Kings afore you. He has proven his fealty in gold more than service, service only if it benefit him. When I am taken fer m'pleasure rides...Ah wish tae see all o' the holdings of Robertson..which would Include Waternish. The Chieftain should at least..if nay be..then a tanist, an heir. Gods, let us hope they have nay stripped Waternish of itself."

"ah'm afraid they have."

“Aye lass, baet Ah dun put it past ‘im…” huffing… “Ah should ‘ave Claramae back in Skye… Ah could use her talents, then I’d be rid of old man Robertson…” he was nervously flicking his fingernails one against the other. He had been so subversive once… Would he consider it again, or just boasting?

“Naew Ah must judge Iain for High Treason… if’n Ah find him innocent, then Alexander shall have grounds to promote favoritism… baet if’n Ah find him guilty, then it gives Alexander free reign…” He flicked the nails once more… “Aww Fook…” and falls back into the pillow frustrated…