The churchyard was filled to bursting with people, the sun shining down upon them. The chill wind that had filled the valley for the last few days was gone.
The last of the leaves on the trees fell still. Even the crows seemed to have settled into silence on the tops of the castle towers.
The monk held his hands up to the air, craning his neck back so far Jessica thought he might fall from his perch. Morag looked up at her baby brother, smiling as he nodded briefly her way before beginning his prayer.
It was lovely to see him home again. They had talked much since his return, her chance to bond with a sibling she never even knew she had. There he was, about to wed her to the man she loved. She felt so happy she thought she might burst.
“Oh Lord who is master of us all. We pray you will send your blessing to this couple who come together before us on this day to be bonded together for the rest of their lives in holy matrimony. Amen.”
He turned to Eddard first. “You, Eddard MacGregor, of Clan MacGregor, agree before all gathered here that you shall take this woman to be your wife for the rest of your life, through strife and plenty, until death take you from this place?”
“Aye,” Eddard replied, placing a hand over Morag’s.
“And you, Morag MacGregor, of Clan MacGregor, agree before all gathered here that you shall take this man as your husband for the rest of your life, through strife and plenty, exile or welcome, darkness or light, until death take you from this place.”
“Aye,” Morag said as Eddard’s slipped the ring onto her finger. “I do.”
“Then we shall enter the church and Mass will be said over your first minutes as husband and wife.”
After the service in the church was ended, the crowd headed for the great hall. The feast to be served would become a legend in MacGregor circles.
Since the King had decreed the clan would pay no taxes for fifty years, funds had become available that had previously been earmarked for the royal coffers.
Grain filled the stores, animals had been bought from other clans, the risk of a hungry winter had vanished. Not only that but rebuilding had begun on the crumbling battlements.
By the time the frost began, the castle would be well on the way to recovery, as if the steward had never laid his greedy hands on its treasury.
Morag sat at the high table with her husband on her left. To her right was Caroline and beside her Abbot James who had traveled from Kirrin Island for the occasion. Further on Cam sat with his wife.
Brother Philip had arrived back from the monastery in time to conduct the ceremony, Abbot James gladly stepping aside to let him take over. Next to Philip was Angela who was knitting rather than eating as if she were at home by the fireside.
Morag looked at the clan, all of them eating, drinking, talking, laughing. It felt strange to think that it hadn’t been long since she’d not known any of these people existed.
She thought back to the time before the key came in the mail. These people were all just ghosts from the ancient past then. Now they were living, breathing, human beings and she loved them all.
She tuned back into the conversation going on around her when she heard Ronald’s name mentioned. That was one person she didn’t love. She did feel sorry for him though.
He still languished in the dungeon. The King had been in no rush to conduct the trial. The war took precedence. Local justice would have to wait.
“I have spoken to the King and he approves if you do.”
Cam frowned, standing up and walking over, tapping Eddard on the shoulder. “What do you think?”
“He told me this morning. I think it is a decision for the Laird to make.”
“What’s this about?” Morag asked.
“Not something that need disturb our wedding day,” Eddard replied.
“You can’t start a conversation and not finish it. What does the King approve of?”
“Abbot James has offered to take Ronald to the abbey prison. The King approves him being given a choice between remaining in the dungeon or becoming a novice monk.”
“What if he becomes a monk and then escapes?” Philip asked.
“That is unlikely,” Eddard said. “He would need to climb the walls and wander the island without being seen and he is guarded night and day. It would take a demon to manage it. He may be wicked but he is flesh and blood.”
“What do you think?” Cam asked Morag. “You are the reason we’re even here discussing this. Whatever you say, we shall do.”
