Page 74 of Summer Warrior

Her father handed her the message and she read it twice, searching for any clue as to the fate of her brave warrior. Would Fergus have spoken of Somerled if he had died? Or, only if he lived?

She sank onto the bench in front of the crackling fire, staring into the flames. She knew her father could force her to marry another, but she could no longer guard her heart. For some time, she had known she would love no other man save Somerled. Had God answered her prayers? Did her love yet live?

Dunaverty Bay, the Mull of Kintyre, late August 1138 A.D.

SOMERLED’S GALLEY SLID over the sand as the four vessels arrived at Dunaverty Bay. The sunset over his left shoulder cast its golden rays across the waves crashing onto the foot of the great headland jutting into the sea. His gaze was drawn upward to the huge rock that would become the foundation of his stronghold. Already, large stones were piled a few feet high.

The construction of the castle had begun.

Loud female shouts called his attention back to the beach. More wives had joined his men, taking up residence on Kintyre, and they now rushed forward to embrace their returning husbands.

“None were lost!” Somerled yelled as he met the crowd of women and children and the older sons and few men left behind to guard them.

“Is it true, Lord?” asked Ruairi’s wife, Aileas. Ruairi had his arm around her and their two children were hugging their father’s waist.

“Aye,” said Somerled, jumping down to the sand, “though King David was none too pleased at the Scots who deserted him and fled.”

“The Scots ran away?” asked eight-year-old Bran, incredulous.

“Aye, lad, when a clever Norman raised a man’s head on a pike and claimed it was the king’s. The deception had its intended effect.”

The boy curled his lip and his face took on a grimace as if smelling something foul. “Dirty trick!”

The men who had remained behind with the French stonemason to work on the castle came forward to welcome Somerled back. With them was Aubri de Mares, d’Harcourt’s assistant mason who he had left in charge of the castle’s construction.

“I see the castle is rising,” Somerled said to the grinning de Mares.

“Oui,” said the ruddy-cheeked mason. “Did you doubt it, Lord?”

“Nay, but I am pleased. You have done well.”

“You missed nothing save a long walk with midges,” said Domnall to one man who remained behind and asked what he had missed.

“And the slaughter of the Galwegians,” added Maurice. “A grisly sight.”

“You kept our men out of the fight?” asked another man who had stayed behind.

“All save the archers,” said Somerled. “We were consigned to the third line and never called into the battle, which was just as well. ’Twas confused chaos made worse by the Roman archbishop’s raising a standard in the midst of the English forces rendering it a holy cause for the Normans who clung to it like a bear’s foot to honey.”

“You must be hungry,” said Aileas to Somerled and the small group of men standing around him.

Somerled glanced at his brother and Maurice and Domnall before nodding. “Aye, food would be good if you have any to share.”

“We’ve plenty of trout and salmon caught this morning. I’ll go to prepare it. Come when you are ready.” With that, she kissed Ruairi on the cheek and, calling the two children to her, turned to walk back to their cottage.

“I am in need of a wash,” said Somerled to Ruairi, “else I will arrive at your table smelling of English mud and kelp.” He thought to bathe in the burn that flowed through the woods nearby.

“Best we all bathe,” said Ruairi, “or my wife will be holding her nose.”

Somerled’s companions agreed and fetched their satchels from the ships before they all headed inland. In addition to his bath, Somerled trimmed his copper beard close to his face. It had grown long with his sojourn in England.

As planned, they dined with Ruairi’s family and the stonemason. Aileas and the children made the cottage a home and, not for the first time, Somerled felt the longing for one of his own. Now that David’s war was over, he would set his sights on the future.

“The trout and salmon are delicious,” he remarked to Aileas. “The herbs and butter add much. ’Tis nothing like my cooking.”

“My brother speaks truth,” said Angus. “He oft forgets to take the fish from the fire.”

That began a round of teasing but Somerled did not mind, for he was used to it. Moreover, he was glad they had come home to teasing and laughter instead of somber mourning.