Page 61 of The Return of the Heir

“Why would he want you to believe that?” Alastair asked, already knowing the answer.

“To take us to the brink of war,” Laird MacAskill said contemptuously as his gaze burned into Alexander MacDonald. “You did all this to shift the balance of power from the council to yourself and your clan.”

The MacDonald pulled his sword. “So what if I did? Someone had to rise up before we are all overridden by the bloody English. They have already taken over the rule of this country. Shall we stand by and let them devour everything else we have and leave naught for us—our castles, our women, our very lives—if we do not stop them?” Ten guards rushed forward and seized him and his weapon before he could strike.

“Throw him in the dungeon,” Alastair ordered his men.

Fighting against those who held him, Alexander MacDonald called back over his shoulder, “You can rid yourself of me, but you canna rid yourself of all of us. The MacDonalds will have their revenge.”

As he disappeared from view and his shouting became nothing but muffled noise, Laird MacQueen turned on Alastair. “The MacDonald is still part of this council whether he attacked your clan or not. You cannot silence his voice.”

“Silence his voice? The man just declared war on the rest of us.”

“How long will you imprison him?” Laird Nicolson asked with a frown.

“For a few hours. Then my men will escort him back to his lands—long enough for him to have a taste of what awaits if he keeps trying to manipulate this council.”

Laird MacKinnon frowned. “He would not release you if your situations were reversed.”

Alastair lifted his chin. “I can be the better man here because his clan will still come after all of us, with or without their laird.” Alastair cast his gaze over the remaining lairds. “Prepare your men. For the sake of the isle, we ride against the MacDonald clan at midday.”

*

The afternoon lightglinted off the swords of the Clan MacLeod as they waited for their leader to address them before heading into battle. Astride his horse, Alastair turned to his men. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, feeling the grooves of the intricate detailing fit themselves to the calluses of his palm.

“Today we go to battle. There are things worth fighting for, and dying for. All a man can do is choose his causes carefully, then follow that path. Our path takes us to Monkstadt House where we will hopefully put this centuries-old feud with the MacDonalds to rest. We do not go into this battle unprepared. You’ve worked hard to improve your fighting skills over the last several days. You are armed and ready for whatever comes our way.”

“But will we be protected as we have been in the past?” one of the warriors amongst the foot soldiers shouted.

“Without the Fairy Flag, how can we guarantee our success?” another warrior called out from the middle of the columns of men on horseback.

“Thanks to Gwendolyn Harris and Marcus MacDonald.” Alastair paused to look at the man beside him. Marcus would ride with them into battle against his own clan. “Gwendolyn and Marcus risked their lives for all of us last night. The Fairy Flag has been returned to the MacLeods.” Alastair sent Graeme a signal to come alongside him.

Graeme untied the small wooden box from his saddle and opened it. From inside he drew out the original Fairy Flag. At the sight of it, the men let out shouts of joy.

“Praise the heavens!” Ronald exclaimed from atop his horse.

“The fairy magic that protected us once, protects us again.” Alastair looked at the celebration amongst his men and wished Gwendolyn was there to see how her efforts made a difference for these men on their way to war. “Graeme Duff, your family has been the flag bearer for centuries. Will you continue to accept this honour, even knowing if we use the flag’s magic one more time, you could be taken to Fairyland along with the flag?”

“I bear that burden with honour, m’laird.” Voice firming, Graeme continued, “For the Clan MacLeod.”

“For the Clan MacLeod,” the others echoed in high spirits.

Graeme attached the Fairy Flag to the standard pole before he tied a silk ribbon around the flag. It would be unfurled in a time of need, but it would come into battle with them.

Alastair’s gaze travelled over his men. “Today we will settle this feud with the MacDonalds, but we fight a battle on two fronts. I will need forty men to stay here at Dunvegan to protect our home and those we leave inside. The rest will travel with me and the flag to Monkstadt House. Ronald, I ask that you take the lead on those men who will remain here.”

Ronald nodded and broke formation. “Those who will stay at Dunvegan with me, come forward.” Moments later forty of the foot soldiers stood behind Ronald while the others rode off towards the MacDonald lands.

*

At the headof the column of men, Alastair thought back to a past battle in the late fifteenth century between the MacDonalds and the MacLeods that had started the feud between them. The Battle of Bloody Bay or Blàr Bàgh na Fala in their Gaelic tongue, was a conflict between the old laird, John MacDonald, and Angus MacDonald, his son, over the lands of the isles. The MacLeods joined the old laird in protecting his claim.

The fighting had been fierce, and ultimately cost the laird of the MacLeods his life along with many of his men. The keeper of the Fairy Flag had unfurled his banner and helped turn the tide of battle in favour of the old laird.

After the battle, James IV stripped the MacDonalds of the claim to the Lordship of the Isles, and only the MacLeods of Dunvegan and Harris rose up to meet the vacuum of political power in the Highlands that was created by that decision. The MacDonalds had hated the MacLeods for claiming the leadership role of the isles ever since. Alastair remained in his thoughts until he and his men finally arrived atop a rise in the landscape where they could see the MacDonalds’ clan seat below. Monkstadt House. Yet the battle would not be fought at the fortified country house. Instead, the MacDonald clan gathered for battle in the grassland below. Judging by the pennants flapping in the wind, the MacDonalds had been joined by the MacQueens and the Lamonts. The MacKinnons, the Nicolsons, and the MacAskills had joined the ranks of the MacLeods. Alastair turned to Marcus on his left.

“Are you certain you want to proceed?” Alastair asked Marcus one last time. “If you fight against your clan, you will be lost to them forever.”