Of Gifts and the Goddess

Chapter 3

3

By the time Anne got her breath back, Duncan had her quite subdued. Changing his grip so one of his large hands held both of her wrists above her head, he then used his free hand to pull the blonde hair away from her face. The hood of her cloak had fallen back in their tussle and some of her waist length hair had come loose from its braid and tangled around her face. As soon as Duncan had pushed away the last strands, what he saw shocked him. The glittering green eyes staring up at him were the same ones he looked into the one time he met the Old Clan Leader of the McClearys on the border between their lands.

His father had tried to talk of peace, but the McCleary only wanted to argue about his misfortune of owning the lands high in the mountains where few things would grow, how in winter game was scarce. Duncan’s father proposed a deal offering provisions to Clan McCleary if they quit raiding the fields and supplied men to be trained in protecting their adjacent borders from other clans. The McCleary wasn’t happy about giving up any of his warriors, but getting what they needed to help them through the winter forced him to agree. That treaty was met half-heartedly by the McCleary. He sent his worst soldiers, ones who had committed crimes and the ones that chose not to follow orders. He then complained about the amount and quality of supplies given to him. The tentative peace between the clans did not last.

It was not hate Duncan felt now as he looked into those eyes. Instead, it was a longing. A subtle stirring of his blood. The air seemed to thicken, filled with a buzz sounding from somewhere behind him, in front of him, around him. He only narrowed his eyes and tried to reach for the revenge inside him.

“So, it’s true. There are Clan McCleary left. But not for long.” He stood up and brought Anne with him.

He was surprised at how light she felt. He glanced around the surrounding trees, trying to figure out where the buzz was coming from. Shrugging it off, he thought perhaps it was just the night insects set to making noise with the scuffle the two of them had made in the trees.

He walked back to the clearing and the fire that was built up by his men, dragging Anne behind him. The handful of McClearys that had been caught were sitting on the ground, their hands tied behind them. It was the gauntness of their faces that made Duncan stop short. He looked closer and saw the clothes they wore were mere rags under their cloaks, and certainly not enough to keep them warm in the mountains where they lived. Their ponies were tied to the trees ringing the clearing. They seemed in good weight, not having lost their winter coats from the decline in altitude or the change in seasons.

Upon seeing Anne, Friend sent a welcoming whinny. Anne only narrowed her eyes, visually checking her horse quickly to make sure no harm had come to her in her capture. Friend flicked her ears forward, then went back to munching on the grass around the base of the tree where she was tied. Looking at those whose hands were bound, it seemed all six of her clan were captured, but not Brave. Maybe he waited in the woods for Anne to call him to her. She would bide her time and wait for an opening. Perhaps he could scare off the O’Connor horses, theirs being used to him.

Duncan dragged her over to a tree set apart from the rest of her clan. He took a length of rope from around his belt and secured her to the pine. Satisfied with the containment of the McClearys, he went to speak to Malcolm.

“Did they offer any resistance? Were any of them hurt?” Duncan spoke in a low voice.

“Nay. Did you not see, Duncan? They are half-starved. They couldn’t fight their way out of a bush. The only weapons they have are knives and a few swords. The youngest one had a slingshot.” Malcolm gestured to the meager pile of weapons next to the fire.

Any other clan leader who had suffered the menace of the McClearys that the O’Connors had would hang them on sight. Duncan looked around. Had these scraggly few been the ones who raided their grain stores and slaughtered their sheep? Had they been the ones who burned cottages in villages on O’Connor land? Duncan shook his head. He didn’t think so, but he would get to the bottom of it. Tonight.

Anne had watched the movements of both men, all the while trying to wiggle out of her bonds and keep an ear and eye open for Brave. The blonde man walked over to the spit, sliced off some meat, and took it back to the captured McClearys. She could see they were all but salivating just from having fresh meat so close. One by one, they glanced at her, waiting for her ascent that they could accept the offering from what had been their enemy, and now their captors. She knew they were starving. She herself had lost so much weight this past winter she could barely draw her sword. A slight nod of her head, and the bonds were loosened so that they could use their hands to eat the offered meal.

Duncan watched the exchange and knew that the woman was indeed the granddaughter of the Old Clan McCleary leader. He thought he should feel a joy. The raiding would end. Revenge would be his. The McClearys would be wiped out forever. Then why did his heart ache? Without realizing it, he reached up and rubbed the center of his chest with the heel of his hand.