Author: Duncan MacDonald
Category: Cook books
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"He will be okay, you'll see." stroking her hair to calm her as Breuse had done to him many times as a frightened child.
The cries and moaning of the crippled Anglos writhing on the ground, now filled the air.
As if on cue, Fergus emerged back up the trail, still looking horrific, but holding his sword in one hand and the severed head of the Anglo in the other. Without a word he tossed the head against the nearest tree and then went to each warrior, most still agonizing on the ground and methodically hacked off all their heads: Pict style.
When he caught Culann's questioning eye, he responded flatly "It's our custom." Culann nodded mutely.
Lasair in a small voice said "You came back. Forgive me, I thought you had run away."
For the first time since he had met her Fergus grinned, a really big grin, showing all his teeth. "I didn't run away. I was just following the advice of Brother Culann; always attack from the high ground. Right Culann?"
Culann released his hold on Lasair, who had now stopped shaking. "Absolutely. Always attack from above."
"Kind of them to bring my clothes back" said Fergus as he pulled on his trousers.
"Well done lad." smiled Culann as he mussed the youth's blood streaked, red hair.
"Aren't you going to say any prayers for them?" asked Fergus.
"No lad, they're not Christians. But someone may have to say some prayers for me, for killing them."
"You didn't kill all of them."
"Yes, you are right, just some."
They collected their belongings, particularly the discarded codex strewn on the ground. Culann took an axe from one of the bodies and stuffed it in his belt.
Lasair and Culann were inclined to leave this place of death as soon as possible, but Fergus initially wanted to place sticks in the ground on which to place his severed heads. The ground was too rocky, so he settled instead on jamming them one by one on living tree branches, he first stripped of foliage.
In years to come this place would be regarded as haunted. Particularly after leaves were seen to be growing out of the decayed eye sockets of the grinning skulls.
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* * * * *
9.5 Loch Earn
Gille Dhu, Lasair’s uncle and local Pict leader, in front of his hill fort, Dun Durn, just west of Loch Earn.
Dun Durn was located on an imposing rock outcrop that must have been used as a fortress since mankind first came to this place.
After one last look at the grisly scene, they turned and walked the short distance to the mountain crest, and gazed out over other mountains ranges seemingly stretching forever to the west. Lasair pointed excitedly to the glimpse of sun glinting on water - Loch Earn.
"We won’t get there till tomorrow. Let’s move.” said Culann. They didn't expect any more trouble with Anglos, but to be prudent, Fergus walked well ahead to scout, as they continued into the next valley.
The path down the mountain was less steep and wider than the reverse they had just travelled. It was agreed that they would stop at the first of many burns they passed, to wash and change into clothing not covered in blood. The men together and Lasair upstream hidden by bushes.
When darkness fell, they camped beside a sparkling burn under a canopy of large fir trees. Lasair skillfully made a small fire and carefully hid the glow of the flames with some rocks. It made no smoke. They ate a simple meals of cooked oats. To escape the cold wind Culann suggested they scrape out dead leaves and soil from the lea side of a large fallen tree. Then after laying the leather book bags on the ground, each rolled in their own cloaks, they slept the sleep of the exhausted.
Before dawn they were up and on their way. Moving swiftly to warm up their bodies stiffened from the night’s cold, Fergus noticed Culann had switched his staff to his left hand and seemed to be favoring his right side. He said nothing.
The trees were taller now with less undergrowth but the ground flattened out. It was easier going. By mid-day they had passed a couple of small farmhouses, which seemed deserted. No animals were seen. They detoured, to be on the safe side.
That night they came to a much wider burn, this one running due west. Lasair said they should follow it downstream as it flowed into Loch Earn. The wind was picking up so they settled in for the night behind a large rock which acted as a wind break.
* * * *
The sun was up, but low clouds were sweeping by when Culann and Fergus awoke. Lasair had gone. They had a cold breakfast, waited a while, calling her name from time to time, but to no avail.
Culann examined the dew wet grass around their camp site, and determined the girl must have walked west, down-stream.
Never one to wait when action was an alternative, Culann decided to follow the tracks.
"Why would she leave, just like that without even saying good-bye?" asked Fergus.
"Don't ask me lad. I'm no expert in the ways of women folk." said Culann in an exasperated tone. "Perhaps something we've done, or haven't done, has offended her."
They walked on. The country became more rugged with rain threatening.
Suddenly they came upon Lasair. She was surrounded by at least twenty armed warriors, who, as soon as they noticed Culann and Fergus, all drew their swords menacingly.
"Oh no, not again." cried Fergus, drawing his sword in turn with Culann, who dropped his staff and hefted his new axe in his left hand.
Almost immediately the slip of a girl in their middle, ran to the front of the larger group, and with one hand on her hip and the other rapidly pointing, appeared to be scolding them.
"They are Picts." whispered Fergus, surprised.
Almost as one, the large group, dropped their heads in shame, and sheathed their swords.
Lasair turned and skipped toward Culann and Fergus.
"Oh, I am so sorry." she cried. "These men with no manners are my kin." she ran and put both arms around Culann and Fergus who still had their weapons out.
"I left early so I could tell them you were coming. The last thing I wanted was an episode like this. They don't see many strangers, and when they do, assume the worst. Please forgive me."
Culann and Fergus sheathed sword and axe. Culann retrieved his staff. Lasair beaming happily, grabbed both their hands and led them to the larger group and introduced them to all.
The Picts took turns to clasp the hands of Culann and Fergus, murmuring words of welcome.
One rangy Pict wearing a deerskin over his patterned trousers, Lasair introduced as Gille Dhu, her Uncle. "I am in your debt, friends. "he said "You saved my niece from the clutches of those wicked Anglos. "
"I am not sure who saved who." responded Culann, smiling. "Your niece can create havoc with her sling shot."
"And you, my young friend, Fergus is it? I hear you slew single handed, most of these marauding fiends."
Fergus cast a sharp look at Lasair, who, suddenly, would not meet his eye and was staring at her feet.
"I am Fergus mac Ciniod of Fortriu." said Fergus. "My foster father is Danan of Alba."
"Ah yes, Danan of Alba. I know him. He steals cattle from us and we steal cattle from him. You are welcome Fergus mac Ciniod." said Gille Dhu heartily.
And so Culann and Fergus were escorted to the Picts fortified village they called Dun Durn. It was located on a steep rocky hill which rose above the flat land on the western rim of the wonderful Loch Earn.
* * * *
Culann and Fergus were entertained grandly that evening, in the circular stone building atop of Dun Durn. It was an imposing rock outcrop that must have used as a fortress, since mankind first came to this place.
The men all sat on cattle skins and ate from low trestle tables. The women and girls served mugs of mead. Wooden plates with haunches of veal and venison were placed in front of each warrior. Noticeably, the two largest portions were given to Culann and Fergus.
It was quite late when the feasting, singing and boasting ended. Many, including Culann a
nd Fergus simply lay on the floor, rolled in their cloaks and slept.
It was mid-morning before Culann and Fergus were clear headed enough to continue their trek. This time however, instead of having a lone girl to guide them, Gille Dhu arranged for a war party of ten warriors, led by him, to act as escort.
Culann suggested they only needed one guide as he preferred to travel light. However, Lasair's uncle was adamant. The countryside was too dangerous to travel without adequate protection. They would have to contend with not only threats from other Pict clans, but also closer to the coast, the Scotti.
"But I am Scotti." said Culann in amazement.
"Friend, these Scotti are crazy people. They attack first and ask questions later." said Gille Dhu. "And as for the Picts, they just attack any stranger. But we are the most powerful clan in this area. They know us and will grant us safe passage through their territory."
And so it was, that Lasair, who was directed by Gille Dhu to stay at Dun Durn, bid a sad farewell to Culann and Fergus as they began their westward journey. Culann noticed smiling, that she held Fergus' hand a couple of heartbeats longer than necessary saying goodbye.
The first day was easy. They boarded three curachs at the western bank of Loch Earn, which ran east-west, and were rowed to the far end. On disembarking, Gille Dhu led them north up a narrow Glen until they came to rising ground which was heavily forested. A well-used deer trail led them over the crest and down to a swift flowing burn. They turned west once more and followed it downstream. As evening approached they came upon a farm house with a small group of men watching them.
Gille Dhu send one of his men to talk to the farmers, who, after some discussion, indicated they could spend the night in the barn, with the cows.
The next day the wind came up and scattered rain showers made travelling difficult. They followed a fast flowing burn until it converged with a smaller stream running down from a narrow glen from the north west.
Gille Dhu pointed upstream and they followed the smaller burn uphill. Toward sundown another burn joined it from the west, but they pushed on northward. The burn petered out and they climbed higher amongst now just rocks and heather.
Darkness found them at the top of the divide. There was no moon. It was decided that the weather was too cold to camp and as it would not be prudent to light a camp fire, they would press on downhill.
This time the trail they were following wound to the west. Gille Dhu said they were now in Scotti country. Fergus became concerned as Culann stumbled a few times, and had to be helped to his feet. Because of this they slowed their pace.
Dawn saw them passing the top end of a large Loch which stretched to the south. They stopped and ate some cold food. One of the Picts who had been scouting ahead ran back and advised there was a Scotti village ahead.
They decided to detour up the side of the mountain. Culann stumbled again and this time sat there without trying to rise.
Fergus squatted beside him and noticing he was holding his right side, slowly opened his cloak. His blouse was stuck to his chest. Gently they pulled it off and beneath was an ugly wound below his shoulder. It was where the spear had hit him. The flesh was an angry red color and the edges of the wound was a dirty yellow. It was badly infected. Fergus cut the straps of the long leather jacket containing the codex, and draped it over his own shoulder.
Culann struggled to his feet and allowed one of the stronger Picts to support him as they continued their trek.
Gille Dhu came up to Fergus and said "I am concerned for your friend Culann, Master Fergus. I think that wound will kill him long before he reaches Iona."
"No," said Fergus, "I won't let him die."
"Then you need to get treatment for him soon."
"Is there anywhere at Oban I can take him. "
Gille Dhu thought for a moment then said "Neither you nor I would last ten heartbeats if we tried to take him to Oban. The Scotti would cut us down. Besides there is nothing there to help him. The only suggestion I can think of is to get him to the monastery on Veridis Insula."
"Green Island," said Fergus, "where is that? "
"It's an island in the Firth of Lorn. A monastery has been there for many decades. The monks at least won't kill you, and they might be able to get a curach to get you to Iona or perhaps Jura."
Fergus said nothing. He was thinking furiously. I have to save Brother Culann. I gave my word.
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* * * * *
9.6 Veridis Insula
Culann and Fergus on Loch Etive pursued by a Scotti curach
They had to stop more often now to let Culann rest. His legs were getting weaker. Fergus gave him water as they sat on the wet ground. He didn't seem to recognize Fergus. His eyes had a vacant stare and he would occasionally mumble words incoherently. All Fergus could make out was the word 'fear'.
Mid-afternoon they came to the narrow Loch they called Etive. It ran due west and Gille Dhu said it ran past Oban to the sea. "We need to find a boat, urgently" said Fergus. Two men were now needed to support Culann.
Gille Dhu sent out scouts to find a boat. Within a short time, they returned, with news there were four curachs near some fishing huts on the loch. They set out in single file, silently. The curachs were there all right, but so were half a dozen fishermen, who were busy mending nets and gutting fish.
Gille Dhu sat next to Fergus. "Can you handle a curach Fergus?"
"Of course." replied Fergus." I sailed one from Lindisfarne to Whitby. And back."
"I don't know how far that is," replied Gille Dhu, "but with a bit of luck you should be able to sail one to Iona."
"How do I get to Iona from here?" asked Fergus.
"Oh it's simple. You sail to the main channel, and come to Veridis Insula. Turn left and go down the channel until you come to a large island on your right hand. That's Mull. Follow the coast line of Mull until it turns north and there is Iona. You can't miss it."
"How do you know this?" asked Fergus.
Gille Dhu smiled, "Lad, I used to engage in a little piracy up and down this coast when I was younger. I've been to Iona once, many years ago. The monks there were very kind to me, and my Pict companions. "But first let's get you your boat. If we wait until it's dark, the Scotti might take them inside that enclosure. It's best we take it now."
Gille Dhu was referring to the small group of round dwelling houses, surrounded by a tall wooden enclosure a few hundred paces beyond the boats.
"How will you do that?" said Fergus. "The fishermen are still there."
"Well, we will just cause a little diversion lad. You take Culann down and grab a boat, and be on your way before they know what's happened. Simple." said Gille Dhu, smiling.
Seeing the Pict leader was serious, Fergus shrugged and said "Okay, let's do it."
Gille Dhu gathered his men and explained his plan. Everyone nodded and began moving out. Gille Dhu came over to Fergus and said "I will give you a hand with Culann lad. My boys know what to do."
Fergus and Gille Dhu, half carrying Culann, made their way down the slope to the water's edge. As they approached, nine half naked Picts, who had painted their upper bodies blue, burst out of the tree line, screaming like banshees, running straight at the fishermen.
The fishermen took one look at the apparition approaching them and scattered, running toward the huts in the enclosure. The Picti chased them.
The four curach were all lying on the bank upside down. Fergus selected the likeliest curach, turned it over, pulled it into the loch, and lowered Culann inside.
"Take some food." shouted Gille Dhu as he stuffed a shoulder bag into the boat.
Fergus tossed in Culann's leather codex coat.
A loud roar came suddenly from the enclosed village. Gille Dhu looked up to see at least fifty warriors streaming from the village carrying weapons, all dressed in fine clothes.
"That's torn it. Looks like we've interrupted a wedding party or something."
>
He waved his nine men back to the boats. "We need two boats. You have one. Away to the Loch my lad. They won't catch us. And just to be sure I'll fix this one." With that Gille Dhu picked up a rock and stove two large holes in the bottom of the fourth curach.
The other Picts came with a rush and they quickly pushed all three curachs out into deep water. Just in time, as the shoreline was now crowded with armed Scotti, all screaming, jumping up and down and shaking their weapons.
When they were out of spear range, Gille Dhu, with a big grin yelled "Off you go now lad. You go west and we'll go east, back home. Iona's that-a-way." pointing to the setting sun.
"I have a problem." Fergus shouted back as the craft drifted further apart.
"What's that?" yelled Gille Dhu, cupping his hands.
"No paddle."
"Oh damn." looking around his boat. "Neither have we. Use your hands lad." And with that the Picts all started paddling furiously with their hands, upstream and away from Fergus.
Gille Dhu waved goodbye and shouted something Fergus couldn't hear.
The Scotti on shore split into two groups. The larger running along the shoreline upstream, and the smaller running downstream, ahead of Fergus. Culann lay semi-conscious in the bottom of the boat.
Fergus shrugged mentally and kneeling in the curach began paddling with both hands towards the setting sun. The loch was getting narrower. I just hope there are no boats further downstream.
Wistful thinking.
Very soon Fergus settled into a good rhythm. He seemed to be outdistancing the followers on the shore. He paused to rest for a moment. His curach still was going faster than the pursuers. Suddenly it dawned on him; the two headlands were now very close, the tide was ebbing and forming a fast tidal race. That was the good news.
The bad news was the curach was filling with water. Quickly he untied his wooden drinking cup and started bailing furiously.
The wind was springing up, coming from the south-west. He tried to mentally calculate if that would be a help or hindrance if the Scotti had curach with sails. He sat the cup in the bottom of the curach and began paddling again.
Culann was mumbling "fear" again. I'll give you 'fear' my good monk, if we don't beat this mob to the open sea.