Galloglass Book One the Templar Page 2

  Angus Mor turned away from the Templar and spoke quietly to one of his close friends, a Norseman named Hrafn Iron Hand. In that moment, the audience was over. Brother Himbert waited for my father to descend from the dais and then followed him out of the hall. I followed them both out into the yard and watched my father escort the monk to one of the small stone guest houses nearby. After I was sure he was occupied, I went to find my woman.

  Ceallach in Gaelic means "strife" and that she was. Green eyed, with thick auburn hair that hung almost to her waist, she was fair and pleasing to look at. Her body was full and ripe, and I could not keep my hands off it. Unfortunately, she was married but that had not stopped us. The first time I took her was after her husband had passed out during one of the feasts at Yuletide. Since then we had coupled often, and our lovemaking had become ever more risky. I was still young and did not realize that was what made it so much more exciting. After leaving the hall, I had watched her fetch water from the village well and followed her back to her hut, making sure no one saw us.

  Her husband was not home, and I was on fire as it had been several days since last we had met. "Ronan, I've missed you," she sighed. I lifted her skirts and before much more was said, bent her over. Her husband's timing was perfect. He entered the hut just as I entered her. I can't say which of the three of us was more surprised, but I recovered first. Pulling up my breeches, I dodged his outstretched arms and snatched up the dirk I kept in my boot. I came up behind him and put the blade to his throat. Shaking my head, I said, "Don't try and pull that sword of yours, Seamus, or I'll cut you from ear to ear."

  He was angry, furious in fact, but he wasn't stupid. "I don't care whose bastard you are. I'll be having your head for this! Yours, too, you little bitch."

  I motioned for Ceallach to get out. When she had left, I said, "We can continue this outside. I'll have my sword." I shoved him then and ducked out the door.

  By now a crowd had begun to gather. I suppose they heard the hollering when Seamus entered the hut. Seamus of the Long Arm was a MacSweeny from Antrim and one of my grandfather's household guard. He had a reputation as a fighter and was dangerous. His arms were long, hence his name, and he was tall and long of leg as well. Flecks of grey covered his beard and hair, and he snarled as he came at me with a wild swing that would have cut me in two if it had connected. I dodged him again and laughed. I had yet to draw my sword.

  "Pull that blade of yours, bastard! "

  As I said, I was young and arrogant and confident in my ability. I replied, "Name calling is it, old man? You should be careful of that. People will be wondering why your young wife put horns on you."

  His face purpled and he charged me. I drew my sword, blocked, and side stepped his next two attacks. By then half the village had gathered. Seamus stopped and pointed his blade at my father as he and Himbert arrived with a number of guards. "Stay out of this Alasdair. You'll not be saving him this time. I found him with me wife!"

  My father turned to me. The look on his face was one of utter disgust. Not because of what I had done but rather that it had been made public. The thought made me smile. "Is it true?" he asked.

  "I should think, my lord, it would be obvious," I answered, with as much venom as I could muster.

  He nodded to Ceallach, who had made her way behind me. "She is his wife?"

  "Aye."

  Alasdair shook his head. "I cannot and will not help you." He turned to Seamus of the Long Arm, "What is it you want?"

  "Blood," came the grim reply.

  "I cannot deny you. It is your right. So be it," said my father as he stepped back and took his place in the crowd while waving back members of the guard.

  Seamus of the Long Arm threw himself at me once again. Fueled by rage, he drove me back, hammering blow after blow at my head. I will be honest, I never feared for my life. I had the measure of him and had seen him train before. He tired in time, became frustrated, and then desperate. My sword always seemed to be in the way, or I wasn't where he expected me to be. After a while he just stood, blade raised at my face, and waited. I went for him then. I was fast, shockingly so, and when I attacked, it was with a fury that came from my very soul. My first cut gouged a trail of blood across the older man's cheek. I backed away, circled, and came in again, this time cutting the back of his knee as I passed. Seamus cursed and tried to stand.

  I came in at him again, feinted at his face, and drove the point of my sword through his opposite thigh. Slowly, methodically, I began to hack him to pieces. My intent was to humiliate him before I killed him. I was young, headstrong, and cruel. I wanted my father to see, understand what I had become, and beware. It was after I cut the tendon in Seamus' arm and he could no longer hold a sword that the Templar stepped into the circle. The crowd, who up until then had been cheering me on, went silent. "Enough," he said to me in Latin. "Would you add murder to the sin of adultery?"

  "Get out of my way, monk," I snarled. "This is none of your affair!"

  Himbert smiled at me. I remember it was a curiously sad gesture. "You are wrong, my young friend. I have just made it my affair."

  "Draw your sword then and be damned," I snapped while pointing mine at his face.

  The Templar shook his head. "I don't need one."

  I shrugged, "It's your death."

  Himbert smiled and calmly side stepped as I drove the point of my blade in a lunge that was meant to impale his chest. The monk twisted his shoulders and slid forward, avoiding my sword tip, and caught my wrist with his right hand coming in. His other hand closed over my sword hand, turning it over as he reversed direction and rotated his hips. I was caught in a wrist lock, something I had never seen before, and before I knew it, I had left my feet and was slammed unceremoniously to my back. In a flash I was disarmed and Himbert held my blade to my throat. He whispered in Latin so only I could hear. "Boy, you're not that good."

  Humiliated and unable to speak because I was gasping for air, I simply stared at the little Templar in disbelief. Himbert tossed my sword to Alasdair who in turn handed it to one of his men. "What will you do with him?" he asked.

  My father shook his head, disdain written all over his face. "I don't know. His grandfather will have to decide. With Seamus alive but a cripple, he has caused us a grave problem. Seamus is a MacSweeny. His clan is allied to ours. At the very least, they will demand airgead fola, blood money, to keep the peace. Alasdair turned to another of his men and motioned toward me. "Get him up and take him to the hall. Angus might as well hear of this now."

  As the warrior helped me to my feet, Alasdair rounded on Ceallach. Pointing at her he said, "Take your husband home and tend to him. If he has any sense, he'll beat you bloody and send you back to your father."

  Ceallach shook her head and lifted her chin in defiance. "I will not. The old bastard hit me one too many times. He got what he deserved."

  My father was always quick to anger, and Ceallach's response was not what he wanted to hear. He slapped her hard enough to stagger her and then snatched her by the arm so that she was standing on her toes. "You'll do it and be glad for it, or I'll have you stripped and thrown to the guards, do you doubt me?"

  She could not meet his eyes and turned her head aside. "No, lord."

  Alasdair shoved her toward her husband and then motioned for Himbert. "Come, brother. You have seen this much, you might as well see the rest."

  The two men followed me into the hall where a number of clansmen had gathered. Angus Mor faced me as he sat his chair on the dais. Beside him were his two personal guards, hard men in leather and mail who would instantly obey any order my grandfather gave them, including taking my head.

  I knew enough of my grandfather to look him in the eye and face whatever was to come like a man. I could see the anger flit across his face, yet he remained calm. That was not a good sign. "Once again, Ronan, you have broken the peace of this hall. This time it is no mere brawl as was the case so often in the past. Were it not for the intervention of the Templar, you w
ould have killed Seamus of the Long Arm while defending your act of adultery. As it is, you have crippled him and made him less than a man in the eyes of his people. He and his family will be your sworn enemies, and no amount of airgead fola will appease them."

  "My lord, he attacked me with a sword. Should I have let him kill me?" I asked.

  Angus exploded to his feet, his face twisted in anger, and hurled his drinking cup at my head, which I ducked. "No, you dolt! Had you not been tupping his wife in the first place, this fight would have never happened! Are there not enough unmarried women on this isle that you could not satisfy yourself with them?" My grandfather ground his teeth and pointed his finger at me. "The MacSweeny will demand the blood price. I have three choices. I can pay it, keep you here, and probably lose any alliance we had with them. I can send you to them and wait for them to send me back your head. Or, I can declare you outlaw and let them hunt you like the miserable vermin you are, whereupon they will again send me your head. In this I have little choice. It is the law. The truth is I need their men more than I need an ignorant grandson who cannot keep his sword sheathed!"

  The crowd snickered at my grandfather's pun, although I doubt he noticed. Finally, I hung my head in shame. My father was one thing, but I never liked disappointing Angus. "I understand, my lord."

  "No. No you do not. As angry as you have made me, you are still a MacDonald, still my flesh and blood. I cannot send you to the MacSweeny, for they will kill you as soon as they lay their hands on you even though that is what you deserve. That leaves payment or outlawry. Do you know the price for crippling a noble?"

  "No, lord."

  "More silver than you are worth, I can assure you," he snarled.

  The hall went silent as they waited for my grandfather to pass judgment. Angus shook his head slowly and combed his fingers through his beard. It was at that moment that Brother Himbert chose to step forward. "My lord, if I may speak?"

  The Lord of the Isles paused and looked at my father, who simply shrugged. He was still angry but glad to be able to put off his decision, even if but for a moment. Reluctantly he said, "Go on monk, say your piece."

  "My lord, I may have a solution." The Templar waited for Angus to stop him. When he did not, he continued. "Rather than outlaw your grandson, give him to the Temple."

  Angus seated himself and said, "I don't understand."

  "The Temple is always in need of recruits, particularly fighting men of known ability. I myself have need of a squire. Your grandson, though a bastard, is nobly born. The Temple would enlist him as a lay knight, say for a term of ten years? He can then come with me. In this way he will be leaving these lands for quite some time and yet there will be no formal sentence of outlawry."

  "You would take him to England?"

  Himbert shook his head. "Only briefly. I have been ordered to the Holy Land after my mission here is completed. That should satisfy the MacSweeny. This would also further bind our two causes together."

  My grandfather then asked the question that had immediately come to my mind. "You would make him a monk?"

  "No. When he completes his term of service, if he so desires, he may choose to join us as a full member of the Order. That decision will be his to make. We only take those who truly wish to be members."

  "Alasdair, what think you?" asked Angus, still unconvinced.

  My father's face showed his relief. The others may not have been able to tell, but I could. This was a chance too good to be true. Waving his arm at the gathered crowd, Alasdair said, "We all know Ronan's mother was my consort, never my wife. Ronan will not inherit. Besides, I think all here would agree he has been a constant source of trouble these last few years. The Temple is as good a place as any that I could find, better in fact than the dun of some Irish chieftain or petty king where he would sit and plot against me." Alasdair paused to let his words sink in and then faced me. "Perhaps the Temple will be able to make something of you as I have obviously failed." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Go on with you. Take him brother and be done."

  I don't know what I expected. The pain of my father's open and public rejection simply confirmed what I had known all my life. I was a burden. Something to be gotten rid of, like the hound that cannot be broken to his master's will. The anger that swelled in me was deep rooted, yet I contained myself even though I wanted nothing more than to beat his face into a bloody pulp. Venom dripped from my voice when I said, "How easy it is for you. With a wave of your hand, I am gone to trouble you no more. I will not air our differences in this hall, though all here know you have wronged me since birth. As you say, let it be done. I will leave with the monk, and I will serve my exile. Yet know this father—I will return to Eilean Mor, as is my right. When next we meet, have your sword in your hand. As God is my judge, you will need it."

  I turned my back on them all and with my head up walked out of the hall. Himbert told me later what transpired next. When I left, he turned to face my father, who was shaking with anger. "He will be more trouble than he is worth," snarled Alasdair. "I hope you know what you are doing."

  Himbert smiled. "I do, my lord, do you? You see, we take men from all over the world, from every station in life. If he is willing, your son will not only find a home, he may even find God."

  Angus stood at that and laughed, breaking the tension in the hall. "Luck to you, with that. Ronan may be many things, but above all else, he is a MacDonald. You had better watch him closely. If you haven't guessed, he is quite fond of women. He'll whore his way to Outremer if given a chance."

  Himbert inclined his head, "I will take my lord's advice to heart." Unfortunately for me, he did and it was quite some time before I managed to enjoy the pleasures of a woman again. Himbert also satisfactorily concluded the trade agreements between my grandfather and the Temple. And while they were at it, they concluded the terms of my service with the Temple. I was theirs to do with as they pleased for the next ten years. Having seen only sixteen winters, ten years seemed like a lifetime. In some ways, it was. I came to manhood in the Temple. I learned to judge men and horses, learned too what it was to campaign and be a soldier. Most importantly, I learned about God and what it meant to suffer. But all that was in the future. I awaited Himbert outside, in the presence of my grandfather's guards. None of whom would speak to me.

  When the Templar left the hall, he waved away my escort and simply walked to his quarters in one of the stone outbuildings near the loch. I had no choice but to follow. Neither of us spoke, yet I noted the presence of a smile on the monk's face. For some reason, that angered me, but I fought to bury the feeling, grinding my teeth in the process. When we arrived, he ushered me inside and closed the door. His accommodations were spartan and befitting that of a warrior monk. His gear was piled in one corner of the cottage, his cot was neatly made up. The one table near the hearth held a pitcher of ale and a basket of bread. There was a bench near one wall and a stool, nothing more.

  "I took the liberty of sending for your things," he said to me in Gaelic. "They should be here shortly."

  "Poor little of that. A cloak, a bed roll, the clothes on my back, and if I am lucky, my weapons and armor."

  "More than many, not as much as some," he answered. "Tell me, young man, who are you?"

  I thought it an odd question. Yet in time, I would learn there was a purpose in everything Himbert did. I thought to humor him, so I answered, "My name, lord, is Ronan MacAlasdair MacAngus of clan Donald. I have seen sixteen winters, killed enemies of my clan, and been exiled by my father for committing adultery and crippling the husband of one of his personal retinue in a duel of honor. I have nothing to give you for your kindness except my service."

  Himbert sat on the stool facing me. "So, you realize two things. You have committed adultery and you understand kindness." The monk smiled briefly, "That is a start. Always remember that kindness and compassion have a place in this world. It is a lesson that men too often forget. The trick is, understanding when to use it. A warrior should be
much more than a mere killer, don't you think?"

  I must admit I was confused. No one had ever asked my opinion before. "I don't know, lord. I never considered it."

  Himbert sighed, "Indeed, I'm sure you have not." The Templar motioned me to the bench near the wall. "Sit. I want you to actually listen to what I have to say." When I complied, he continued. "At this moment, you have no idea at the opportunity that has been given you. You will have a chance to go far beyond this small corner of the world, both physically and intellectually. What you do with this is entirely up to you. From this moment on, what you achieve will be based not upon your birth but purely upon your ability. The fact you are a bastard will have nothing to do with your success or lack thereof. There is bad blood between you and your father. That is also a fact. Mayhap time and distance will resolve that. Do as you are commanded to your absolute ability. Learn everything I teach you and learn it well. Do this, and I promise when the time comes to face your father, you will face him as a man. What happens then, only God can foresee."

  I knew then the monk was not my enemy. What I did not know was how much of a mentor and then friend he would become. I must say, my one and overriding concern was my impending dry spell with women. Even then, they were a great weakness. "Lord, I do not think I can be a monk."

  Himbert laughed. "Yes. Well for now, I can promise you that I will keep you so busy, you will have neither the time nor the inclination for women."

  I nodded, but I knew in my heart there would always be time for a beautiful woman. A soft look, the turn of an ankle, an open bodice would be all that it would take to send me pacing. I resolved to at least try and control myself. If nothing else that would certainly be a new experience.

  Himbert watched me for a moment. Looking back and knowing what I know of him now, I'm sure he knew what was on my mind. "For the present, I want you to take my mail, inspect it, and then polish it. I want you to do the same with my helm. Do you have a hauberk of your own?"