Blood Of The Clans Ch 13

While Garreth and Grayson awaited the start of the trial, James MacRae had already broken the cease-fire pact and sat with several leaders of smaller clans, at the head of the table of Andrew MacDougall. Andrew, sat on his left, in his deteriorating Dunollie Castle, while to his right was a captain of the Earl's guard, dressed in full regalia for representation of his position.

McCauley Fraser, Harlan Douglas and Jacob MacLean sat to either side of Andrew and the captain. He had put it to the leaders to join with him, under the Earl's protection and backing, to take Eilean Donan, Castle Tioram, along with Castle Camus, after which, charters would be drawn up titling the castle and lands to them. James pronounced his intent on Donan being the seat of the MacRae's power, still deciding if Camus should go to the Fraser's or the Douglas', both being strong clans, but neither having enough strength to defend it on their own. Tioram was going to Jacob MacLean, without question.

His family had been driven out by the Campbell's and lost Castle Duart and their lands to them. It was Jacob's beliefs that the MacDonald's lost Duart for them, for not aiding them better. Now that vengeance was nigh for his clan's loss, Jacob was swearing any oath he could, to attain a castle again. Andrew would retain Dunollie and the new alliance would return the lands lost in recent feuding with larger clans in the area, the increase in revenues and spoils of war would pay for upgrading the castle.

The Stewart's of Appin were one clan who had taken a large percentage of the coastal lands they once held, Braedon ruling them now with a fairer hand and creating a stronger bond with the clans working under him. None of these clans had a seat of power, or lands to control, so James felt they would put forth a strong effort to have some place to call theirs.

McCauley looked across the table at Andrew, talking of the enemy's birlinns and caught his attention. "Andrew, I want tae know how we'll divide the birlinns between us, once we o'erthrow them." his question being overheard by the others and listened to intently.

"That would depend on how many are left after battle, that can still sail, or be repaired. If they all sink, no one gets any. So that should be taken intae consideration when we attack them. Make sure we can take o'er a boat and use it ourselves. Maybe we should divide them this way Fraser, what e'er ones ye take, that'll be the ones ye keep." Andrew gave his thoughts and opinions constructively. "If you wreck it, or lose it in battle, it's yer loss only. If yer good, ye'll ha'e yerself a fleet a birlinns."

James listened to MacDougall's reply and pondered the possibilities of the proposal. With the control of a castle situated at the head of so much water traffic, it was a wise idea to have a large fleet of birlinns to patrol the waters. He sat, estimating he should need six or seven birlinns to control the waters from the Kyle of Lochalsh, along Loch Alsh itself, into Loch Long on the north and Loch Duich to the south. Having lost one of the three his men stole, he weighed his chances at getting four or five more, before the others got theirs.

"I like that idea, Andrew. Gi'es us a reason tae plan this out right. Wrecking everything will put us right back tae where we are the now. We want the castles tae live in, the lands tae farm and the waters tae fish. We need they birlinns tae defend all this water we're going tae get. I know there'll be some losses, but we only want tae kill they bastards and use everything they have, am I wrong?" James questioned them, looking to see who was of an intelligent mind and thought ahead. He could see he made a good choice in bringing Andrew MacDougall into the fold.

"That's good fer ye MacRae, ye have birlinns tae attack wi', but some of us don'ne. How do we get one, if we can'ne attack wi' one?" Harlan Douglas retorted, letting them know his objection to the plan, Fraser agreeing with him, nodding his head.

"I suggest we do some raiding along the coast and get our first birlinns. Our chances are better getting them that way, than fighting fer them. If we stage the raids properly, we can ha'e five, six, maybe even ten birlinns before weeks end." Jacob MacLean added nonchalantly into the equation, then drank down his ale in a single draft, before reaching for the jug to re-fill it again..

The men all returned nods of approval to him, the prospect of acquiring birlinns that way appealing to everyone. Jacob worked out a long belch and patted his stomach before continuing.

"I've sailed along the south of Loch Linnhe, I know where I can find four birlinn the now, I can ha'e. I know a passage along the coast further will gi' me a few more as well. Seeing as I know of them, I'll take the first two and ye lot can divide what we find amongst yerselves. I think that solves our problem of no birlinns tae start wi'" Jacob told them, setting his place at the trough already.

"And just how do we get they birlinns, MacLean? Go knock on the door and ask fer them?" McCauley quipped back, laughing at him, trying to appear smarter than Jacob.

James could see the head of the Fraser's wasn't the type for thinking things through and just re-acted to them. His position was already being re-set for him as he sat there, unaware of how he was being cast.

Jacob looked at him, laughing as he tried to take a drink. "Are ye daft Fraser? We round up they birlinn a night or two before we go tae battle. Gi'e them no time tae figure out who's done what. We go tae war, who's going tae argue wi' us about it? No one, that's who" Jacob retorted back at him, his tone one of condescension and mockery.

McCauley Fraser sat looking dumbfounded by the obviousness of it. The others looked at him and laughed at his ineptness to grasp the obvious. Fraser rose aggressively, glaring at them all. Knowing he couldn't stand up to all of them, he just shouted, "Bah," at them and walked away to the other side of the room by himself.

James MacRae sat and pondered the perspective of the Fraser's being in control of Camus and knew after McCaulay's last response, that it wasn't a good idea to have him in a position of power. His focus changed to Harlan Douglas as the better choice. He wasn't a man of great stature or presence, but James saw a quick mind and a sharp wit in him. He wanted to ally himself with men who respected his position and that of the King's as well, someone who knew how to plan ahead for battle. Jacob was showing those traits to him, as he expressed his thoughts on situations.

"He'll be swimming tae a birlinn tae take it, the stupid dolt, while the rest of us sail on tae victory, so we will." Jacob said, laughing again in mockery of Fraser's ineptness.

That was all McCauley Fraser could stand from Jacob MacLean's insults and his belittling of him. He crossed the room, drawing his sword as he came. Jacob had his back to him, but the eyes of the others warned him of the danger coming. In a quick manoeuvre, he had his dirk out of its sheath and spun in his chair. Continuing the motion, his arm straightened and his hand released the blade, As Fraser raised his sword to attack, the dirk found its place in his ribcage and stopped him cold, his eyes fixing on Jacob's. Fraser's sword dropped from his hands and then held onto the dirk, falling backwards to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Jacob rose slowly, walked over to the dying man and pulled the dirk from his hands. A small fountain of blood spurted up from the wound and McCauley Fraser passed from this world shortly after. Jacob wiped the blood off on the dead man's tunic and re-sheathed it, before sitting back down and picking up his mug again. He looked at everyone and stopped before drinking, as he looked at James MacRae and the Earl's Captain beside him.

"There was'ne anything tae be done about it, MacRae. It was him or me, so I made it him. He was goin' tae kill me, so he was, ye all saw it." his eyes looking back at each of them, stopping at Andrew MacDougall. "My apologies, MacDougall." Jacob matter-of-factly said to him, then took a long drink of his ale.

Andrew motioned with his hand to the servants to come and dispose of the body outside

and then to clean the floor after. Two men ran to Fraser's body and lifted it under the arms and legs, then quickly carried it out of the room. Shortly after, one came back with a bucket of water and a course brush, trying to wash away as much of the blood as he could.

"I'm no holding it against ye, Jacob. In fact, I was thinking ye'd be the better Chief tae ha'e at Tioram and that just settled my thoughts wi'out an argument." James relayed to him, stunning him with the announcement.

"Me? Chief of Tioram? Aye, I think that can be done. What of the Fraser's though? They're camped close by and are no going tae be happy I just killed McCauley and took their future seat." Jacob stated, showing he was a thinking man.

"Let me be the one tae tell them, Jacob. There'll no be any retaliation from them, or they'll be back tae picking potatoes and kelp fer the Buchannan's, or worse. As I see it, if their leader was as stupid as that, the rest are no better. What we do need are men tae fight, so they should be good enough tae do that." James assured him.

The other clan heads sat in silence, considering what had just transpired and the results it produced. "Any objections tae me naming Harlan Douglas as Chief of Camus?"

When no one made a motion of denial. "I did'ne think so. I'll consider this settled then. Douglas, looks like Castle Camus will be yers tae head. Now, back tae planning this attack, I'm all fer Jacob's idea of getting birlinns, so I'll let ye's use one of mine tae start wi'. Take enough men tae sail as many birlinns ye can get a hold of, but make sure mine comes back and one extra, ye don'ne want me wi'out, do ye?" James told them with his eyes and expression, an assurance of certain retribution, should they fail.

The others looked at James MacRae as their leader more than ever now, knowing he held sway with the Earl of Huntly and possessed the power to place whatever clan he wanted in a castle. James could see it in their eyes that they had submitted themselves to him and his rule, relishing that instant of being powerful and ruling such large numbers of people from his castle. His castle, Eilean Donan, as close to him, as to reach out and touch it, yet still far enough away to make it still a dream. A dream that haunted him in so many ways. His kin dead or held prisoner, his hold on Donan short-lived.

"Now," James continued, focusing more on what needed planning, "We need tae know who we can use fer what. Andrew, yer men are battle ready fer the sea the now, so I want ye heading the attack against their birlinns. The Earl is promising us a gunship, along wi' a number of men, from his halfbrother, in Carlisle. Once we ha'e all the birlinns, we can use his men in the boats yer men get," focusing on Jacob and Harlan, "while yer men row fer all their worth. They may be strong, but they're no soldiers, are they? We'll divide what soldiers we get amongst the weaker boats and the rest tae attack on land."

Harlan accounted for his men in his head, recalling who was fit as a rower and who was a fighter, able to handle a weapon and confirmed to himself his clan was up to the task. His clan, the Douglas', weren't very big, only one hundred and eighty in total, but the number of men fit enough for battle, made their numbers formidable enough to turn the tide of a battle for either side. He could field twenty archers of good aim, at least sixty men who were adept with weapons, such as Claymores, dirks and battle axes. They had twenty horses and a knowledge of battle tactics and that allowed them a semblance of peace to live their lives, without threat of attack.

"My clan are ready fer battle, James, we hav'ne had more than a year's peace tae get lazy. I can join wi' the Earl's cavalry and troops, adding twenty horses, sixty blades and twenty archers." Harlan stated with assurance that he could back his words.

"Then that leaves us tae where we attack Tioram from on land then. Only easy way intae Tioram is along the Sheil. We'll need tae get all the Earl's men and horses, along wi' yer's

Harlan, intae Loch Sunart and then Salen Bay. We can travel north and attack from the land side, while our boats attack from the water. Hopefully tha' bloody, big ship of theirs can carry the lot of ye's." James put forth his opinion on transportation of the horses and men.

"We must be on the east side of River Sheil tae approach the castle, James." Harlan mentioned, without thinking the need for an explanation.

J

ames looked at him with confusion and then an understanding he wasn't aware of something. "Why is that, Douglas?"

"There are only two places tae cross the Sheil. One is a small bridge, wide enough for two men abreast tae pass, one horse, the other is at the mouth, just before the rapids, there's a narra gap that's shalla enough so men and horse can cross, but it'll be slow tae cross at either spot." Harlan relayed the facts as he knew them and looked at James.

"What are our best chances then Harlan? How would ye cross?" James asked, testing Harlan's ability to overcome an obstacle in battle strategy.

"I'd have the men cross at the bridge and the horses ride on tae the crossing at the mouth. The men'll be across faster and then march the shorter distance tae the next crossing. The horses'll make it across easier and more at a time as well." Harlan spoke, using his hands to demonstrate the movements of each.

"Then ye'll lead the soldiers across and up, while I command the cavalry. We'll join again at the crossing and reform the lines." James instructed him and went back to pondering the war plan in his head.

Andrew rose and stoked the fire, throwing on another couple of logs to fend off the chilly, late night cold. He looked at the blood stain on the floor, where McCauley Fraser had made a fateful decision. He thought carefully on his own life and what decisions he would have to make and hoped none left him as a stain on a floor, or a battlefield.

Harlan sat drinking his ale, thinking more about personal gain. With MacLean being put in Tioram, and Camus now for him, he realized he knew little of the castle or the area it was in, but he would be the chief and have lands for his people to live on. He weighed his allegiance to MacRae and the Earl against his proposed rule and could see it was worth the chance of losing men in battle to attain this. He would be the first Douglas chief of a seated clan.

The captain sat quietly, drinking his ale and observing the meeting, taking mental notes to make his report to the Earl in the morning. He could confirm the allegiance of the MacDougall's, the Douglas' and the MacLean's. It was up to how MacRae handled the Fraser's, in letting them know their chief was dead at the hands of a man they would ally with, that had him wondering.

In response to his thoughts, James sat back and told the servants to go and bring back a captain from the Fraser's and have him come to him. The one who had washed the floor turned quickly and was gone before the other started to make a motion.

"Ye, stay here wi' us. We need more ale and food." James shouted to him, halting any further movement from him.

The servant bowed and came to the table to retrieve the empty platter and jugs. Piling them on the platter, he turned and left to get more. Everyone was becoming tenser, the thought of a Fraser coming in and finding a blood-soaked floor, the cause being their leader's death and what they would do as a result.

The servant returned with two jugs of ale and sat them in close reach to the leaders. He hurried away again to the kitchen and was soon back with a section of oxen, potatoes and carrots piled around it. He placed it centrally on the table and bowed, as he backed up, then turned and stood at the door in his position.

Less than an hour later, the other servant re-appeared and ushered in the captain from the Fraser clan. The captain came to the table with a slightly bewildered look on his face, seeing everyone eating and drinking, but his father not among them.

"What's yer name, captain? " MacRae asked him.

"I am Sloan Fraser, eldest son of McCauley. Where is my father?" Sloan asked looking about for him.

"Sit, Sloan Fraser, we need tae discuss some issues wi' ye." Sloan slowly sat in the seat his father had sat in earlier. "The first issue is yer father. He's dead. He attacked Jacob MacLean wi' his sword from behind and Jacob bested him wi' his dirk. We all saw it happen before our eyes."

Sloan jumped from his chair and put his hand on his dirk, looking for Jacob, as James spoke in a tone of factual indifference, as though telling him his father was slain, was of no consequence.

"Before ye want tae take revenge on Jacob MacLean here," his hand motioning towards Jacob, beside him. "I'll remind ye that all of us are allied together. Yer father was'ne a bright man, that was shown tae us. Tae attack a man in such a cowardly way, showed no spine in the man. Now, I'm hoping ye're a bit smarter than he was. As fer the other issue, I'm still offering allegiance fer yer clan tae join wi' us and gi' ye's lands of yer own." James continued with his offer.

Sloan looked about at the others, studying their eyes and faces. He could see in them the truth of what James MacRae was telling him. He looked down at Jacob beside him, the desire to draw his dirk and thrust it in him, weighing on his mind. The pain of loss sat heavy on Sloan, as he had just entered his twenties and was now a chief, whether he was ready for it or not. His father's body, still warm, was only thirty feet away and ready to set events into motion.

"My father agreed tae join in this allegiance and gain a place fer our clan. As much as I grieve fer his loss, I still feel it is fer the good of our clan tae be a part of it. As I am now the head of our clan, I make that decision fer us. But before I can continue, I must attend tae my father and have him brought tae our people fer burial." Sloan said as bravely as he could, hiding his emotions behind the mask of staid control he wore.

"Aye Sloan, we'll ha'e some men take him back fer ye and in the morrow, ye'll come back and we can talk about the plans fer battle and where ye'll fit in. We're sorry fer yer loss, Sloan, yer father just made a bad choice tae act on." James said as comfortingly, as his feelings could allow.

Sloan gave a quick bow and turned away, not saying anymore. The same servant who brought him, motioned for him to follow him, which he did. He entered a small storage room and saw his father's lifeless body lain over a table too small to hold him. His appendages hung down over the sides, making a grotesque display of him. Sloan was surprised to see there wasn't a lot of blood on him. The wound must have stopped him and he died quickly, comforting him that he didn't linger in pain, or worse, to have lain there and left to die, as the men in the other room watched and did nothing. He noticed the marks where Jacob had cleaned his dirk off on the tunic and swore revenge for this act to himself.

As Sloan stood looking at his father, two men came up from behind him. Sloan stood to the side and allowed them to pick his father up and carry him outside. They laid him in the back of a cart, making sure he was on well enough, so as not to fall off during the five mile trip back to his camp. He looked at the two MacDougall's who were to drive the cart and told them he would lead it home and have it returned in the morrow. Sloan mounted his horse and took the reins of the horse pulling the cart and at a slow pace, made his way back to camp, allowing his tears to fall and his emotions to come out. The passage between the mountainous ridges echoed his wails and curses into the night sky, as he let out the sorrow of his loss.