The Campbell Trilogy (90 page)
Read The Campbell Trilogy Online
Authors: Monica McCarty
Her eyes searched his, probing. “What changed your mind?”
“I realized that if you were half as miserable as I was, there was no way you would find happiness with someone else.” His heart pounded with dread, with fear. “Was I wrong?”
Tears blurred her eyes. And his chest squeezed with hope.
“How could you leave me like that? After what we’d shared?” The tiny fist of her hand slammed against his chest with surprising force. “You wanted me to believe that you didn’t care about me.”
He pulled her into his arms and smoothed his hand over her silky head. “I’m so sorry, love. My only defense is that I love you so much, I only wanted what was best for you.”
She whacked him again.
“Ow,” he said, rubbing the spot. His wee kitten had a bit of a vicious streak.
“You’re
what’s best for me, you overbearing oaf.”
Sweeter words had never been spoken, though he would have to work on her vocabulary. He pulled her into his arms again and squeezed her tightly. “Does that mean you won’t be marrying someone else?”
Lizzie pulled back to look into his eyes, a mischievous twist to her sensuous lips. “Don’t you want to ask who it is that I’m marrying?”
He frowned. “I assumed it was Robert Campbell.”
She shook her head.
His face hardened. “Then who is it? Tell me so I can kill him.”
“Another ‘random’ attack on the road, perhaps? Thank you, but there will be no more severed limbs in my name.”
He lifted a brow. She’d figured it out, had she? Since he had none, he didn’t bother feigning remorse. “The bastard is lucky I didn’t know the extent of his blackguard behavior. Now tell me.”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “I haven’t decided whether to forgive you or not.”
His lips covered hers in a soft, coaxing kiss, his heart soaring with happiness when he felt her sweet response. He pulled his mouth away and gazed into her eyes. “Name your price, my love. I will do whatever it takes to win you back, even if it means getting down on my knees and begging.”
Her nose wrinkled, as if she were seriously considering it. “Sounds intriguing. I recall the last time you were on your knees.” He met her amused gaze and a bolt of hot lust went straight through him. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m thinking that what Caitrina threatened my brother with will be enough.”
He hated to ask. “And what’s that?”
Lizzie moved his hand to cover her stomach. “She swore she would bear him only girls.”
His heart plummeted, the blood in his face draining at her words. He suddenly felt unsteady on his feet and had to brace himself against the wooden table beside them. “A babe?”
She nodded.
He sat on the nearest bench and sank his head into his hands, emotion overtaking him, overwhelmed by all that he could have lost. She sat beside him, and when he looked up, his eyes burned. “God, Lizzie, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes shone with tears. “I take it you are happy?”
The lump in his chest was hot and thick as he gathered her into his arms. “I didn’t think I could ever feel this happy.”
He’d sought Lizzie for her land, but never could he have realized all that she would bring him. With her he would
have a home—a family. And the love and happiness he’d known so long ago.
He kissed her again. Softly. Tenderly. With a poignancy that would mark this moment forever.
All of a sudden, he pulled back as the truth finally dawned on him. “There was never anyone else you were intending to marry. It was me.”
Lizzie broke into a wide smile. She pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed. “It’s only ever been you.”
The heart he didn’t realize he had seemed to become too big for his chest.
And this time when he kissed her, he didn’t stop.
The persecution of clan Gregor (or Clan MacGregor) by the Campbells is well-known. The Campbells—and the 7th Earl of Argyll in particular—have gone down in history as the “bad guys,” and the MacGregors have been romanticized as outlaws in the vein of Robin Hood, no doubt in large part thanks to Sir Walter Scott. As with most things, I think the truth is much more complicated. As I mentioned in the author’s note of
Highland Warrior,
it was clear that atrocities were committed by both sides. Errol Flynn the MacGregors were not, and I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be walking the moors at night and run into one of these guys. Even MacGregor historians conceded that there were some rough and wild men in the bunch,
1
although perhaps, given their history, this is understandable.
The downfall of the MacGregors stemmed from their landlessness. By the fifteenth century, the ancient fiefdoms of the MacGregors had all been forfeited, leaving the clan “without an acre of land held free of the crown.”
2
The MacGregor alliance with King John Balliol led to the subsequent forfeiture of much of their land under King Robert the Bruce.
3
Not surprisingly, clan Campbell, with its close alliance to the Bruce, was the beneficiary, acquiring superiority over the MacGregors.
But the MacGregors continued to occupy many of these lands by
coir a glaive,
the right of sword, giving rise to deadly feuds. As I alluded to in the story, this situation became even more complicated when Glenorchy purchased the superiority from Argyll (making Glenorchy and the MacGregors
both
vassals of Argyll) and refused to recognize the MacGregors as tenants.
4
By the end of the sixteenth century, the situation was desperate. Alasdair MacGregor did attempt legal means to secure possession, but his efforts were effectively thwarted by Glenorchy.
5
But the MacGregors were renowned warriors, and plenty of men, including the Campbells, were willing to make use of them.
The character of Patrick MacGregor was based loosely on Duncan MacEwin MacGregor, the Tutor of Glenstrae. As the hero of my next book is named Duncan, I borrowed the given name of his nephew (and future chief). Ironically, in writing novels based on actual historical figures, I find that one of the most frustrating things is trying to keep all the genealogy straight with the propensity for clans to use the
same
names over and over. Within and between generations, the MacGregors had numerous Iains, Alasdairs, Duncans, Gregors, and a few Patricks. Coupled with my effort to use historically accurate names for the period (of which there are a very limited number), it makes naming characters extremely difficult. Where I could, I tried to use different versions of the same name (for instance, John versus Iain).
The battle of Glenfruin, the Glen of Sorrow—or “the Field of Lennox,” as it was known then—actually occurred on February 7, 1603 (with Argyll’s “Highland promise” and Alasdair’s execution occurring in early 1604). Four hundred MacGregors defeated the Colquhouns,
killing one hundred forty, including (according to Sir Walter Scott) schoolboys from Dumbarton who’d come to watch the battle. The MacGregors claimed the killing was done on the orders of a rogue MacDonald. But rumors of MacGregor atrocities abounded. On his death, Alasdair, who could not write but dictated his final words, laid the blame for the attack at Argyll’s feet. You can find a link to his last testament on my website.
After the battle, the Colquhoun widows went to Stirling Castle, parading the blood-soaked garments of their dead on pikes before the king. Exhibiting quite a flair for the dramatic, the widows were reported to have dipped the “bludie sarks” in sheep’s blood for effect.
The MacGregors did take refuge on an islet in Loch Katrine, albeit in 1611, not following Glenfruin.
6
The island is referred to as “Mharnoch,” but I think it must be Molach. Today, Molach is better known as the “Ellen’s Isle” made famous by Sir Walter Scott in his
Lady of the Lake.
Alasdair MacGregor, known as “the Arrow of Glen Lyon” for his skill with a bow, was executed with ten of his men on January 20, 1604. But over the course of two months, twenty-five high-ranking MacGregors were killed in Edinburgh. You can find a link to the list of the executed MacGregors on my website. Alasdair’s head, along with that of his cousin Iain, was hung on the gates of Dumbarton.
After Alasdair’s execution, the clan leadership was thrown in disarray. From what I could determine Alasdair’s heirs, his nephews Gregor and Patrick Roy (sons of Black John of the Mailcoat), were just three and a few months old, respectively. Duncan MacEwin MacGregor, Alasdair’s fierce cousin and the inspiration for Patrick, was named “tutor” (a kind of guardianship) of the
young chief, acting as laird until his young nephews reached their majority.
Interestingly enough, following Alasdair’s death there was reputed to be a challenge to the leadership by yet another “Gregor,” an alleged illegitimate son of Alasdair.
“Black” Duncan Campbell of Glenorchy died at eighty-one and was succeeded by his nearly fifty-five-year-old son, Colin, and nine years later by Duncan’s sixty-year-old second son, Robert. The exact date of the building of Edinample Castle is unclear, but it was built by Black Duncan sometime at the end of the sixteenth century, supposedly on the site of a former MacGregor stronghold. Thus, it didn’t seem too far-fetched to tie the retribution against the MacGregors to the murder of John Drummond (the king’s forester) in 1589, which was said to have been particularly severe in “the braes of Balquhidder especially, and around Lochearn.”
7
The connection of Edinample with my hero and his family, however, is fiction. The castle abounds with plenty of old ghost stories and curses, including the two I mentioned in the story.
If anything, I probably understated the desperate situation of the MacGregors during the time immediately preceding Alasdair’s capture. In part, “the relentless persecution took a terrible toll on the women and children, the old and the helpless. With winter approaching, Alasdair’s people were destitute. This year there would be no harvest; no Gregarach cattle driven to the fair at Crieff; no salted meat for winter provisions; no cows to keep for lifting into the pastures in the spring. Their settlements were burned out; what little they had was pillaged or destroyed. Their position became steadily more desperate.”
8
Those of you who watch the television show
Man vs. Wild
will no doubt recognize many of the survival techniques Patrick employs on their foray into the hills north of Lochs Katrine and Achray. Bear’s show on the Cairngorms definitely inspired this section of the book. When he mentioned how incredibly tough Highlanders were supposed to be, I knew he could have been talking about the MacGregors. The storm that hits Patrick and Lizzie so unexpectedly might seem heavy by today’s standards, but this period of history was part of the Little Ice Age, and winters in the early 1600s were particularly severe.
As in my first book,
Highlander Untamed,
I’ve decided to go with the more romantic version of handfast marriages being sort of a “trial” marriage, although many scholars now believe that handfasts were more accurately a type of betrothal and became a marriage upon consummation. The issue of what constituted a marriage in Scotland after the Reformation is extremely complicated. For centuries, the idea of a present statement of intent to be married (that is, by declaration) was enough—with or without witnesses. Of course, there were problems of proof with this method that led to many cases of “he said, she said.” Clandestine or irregular marriages were common but frowned upon by the Kirk, which increasingly tried to ensure that marriage was institutionalized (banns and performed by minister) by payment of fines and/or forcing the couples to get married again—even though recognizing the original irregular or clandestine marriage as valid.
1.
Ronald Williams,
Sons of the Wolf
(Isle of Colonsay: House of Lochar, 1998), pp. 54-55.
2.
Donald Gregory,
Inquiry into the Earlier History of the Clan Gregor, with a View to Ascertain the Causes Which Led to Their Proscription in 1603
(Edinburgh: Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, Archaelogia Scotia, 1857), vol. 4, pp. 130-159.
3.
Ibid., p. 133.
4.
John L. Roberts,
Feuds, Forays and Rebellions
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1999), p. 177.
5.
Ibid.
6.
Ibid., p. 182.
7.
Gregory, p. 145.
8.
Williams, p. 70.
To Reid, my strapping lad in training.
May you grow up just as strong, handsome, and loving
as the heroes in my books
(okay, and your dad, too, but don’t tell him!).
I’m fortunate to have two doctors in the family “on call” for personal medical clinics on battle wounds. It was my brother-in-law Sean who answered the phone this time for digging out musket balls in the thigh. (Nora, you need to get to the phone quicker—I think Sean is pulling ahead in the “getting ink” department.)
A special thanks to my editor, Kate, for her always quick and insightful feedback and support. It’s been so fun working with you. (Go, Sox!)
Thanks to my agents, Andrea and Kelly, whose patience with my questions and occasional neuroses-filled phone calls about “the business” is much appreciated.
Jami and Nyree, my two CPs extraordinaire and my personal cheering section. I feel so fortunate to have found you guys—I shudder to think what I would do without you. Neither of you is ever permitted to move.
My Scotland travel buddy, Veronica—Mommy Abandonment Tour 2008!
Dave, Reid, and Maxine, the good news is that I love you and appreciate all your support; the bad news is we’re having Mommy’s pasta again for dinner.