Gruoch's Legacy

Gruoch’s Legacy

By

Claire Brodie

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Published by Claire Brodie at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 by Claire Brodie

Content

Prologue - The Legend of Kenneth III

Chapter One - 1028 a.d. - Fife – Springtime

Chapter Two - 1029 a.d. - Fife - The Wedding

Chapter Three - 1031 a.d. - Moray - Married Life

Chapter Four - 1031 a.d. - Moray – Motherhood

Chapter Five - 1031 a.d. - Fife – Lady Gruoch’s Revenge

Chapter Six - 1031 a.d. - Moray – Unexpected Guests

Chapter Seven - 1031a.d. - St Serf’s Inch

Chapter Eight - 1032 a.d. - St Serf’s Inch – The Long Wait

Chapter Nine - 1034 a.d. - St Serf’s Inch – A Reunion

Chapter Ten - 1035 a.d. - St Serf’s Inch – Life Goes On

Chapter Eleven - 1037 a.d. - Moray – Duncan’s Last Stand

Chapter Twelve - 1050 a.d. - Moray – Peace in Alba

Chapter Thirteen - 1057 a.d. - Battle for the Crown

Prologue - The Legend of Kenneth III

Once upon a time, many moons ago, there lived a King called Kenneth III of Alba. He lived in a castle high on a hill in Edinburgh, the capital of his country. He had a beautiful wife and three sons, Gillecomgain, Giric and Brude. It was well known that he was a benevolent King and his people warmly welcomed him whenever he travelled around the country. He relied upon wise monks, named the Culdees to help make judicious decisions and to keep the peace.

The monks had evolved from the ancient Druid culture that dominated the Isles of Britain and had blended their pagan ideals together with the early teachings of the Christian church. These monks lived in small communities of 12 men and shared the responsibilities of schooling the local children to teach them the skills needed for everyday life and to learn the difference between right and wrong. The children would listen to stories from the bible and fables and learn the history of their ancestors, and so it was for the young people of Alba for many centuries.

The monks also performed baptisms, weddings and funerals and kept all the rituals their holy order decreed. They mentored the people, listening to their secrets, advising them on moral issues that would arise from time to time.

As learned men, they helped to keep the peace, law and order, by sorting out neighbours’ disputes and discussing legal, technical matters and any tax issues. They could read, write and speak in different languages including Latin, Pictish and Gaelic which made them great ambassadors for the nation. As diplomats they made sure that they were up to date on international news and kept King Kenneth informed of any dangers that may lurk on the borders of his Kingdom.

They understood science and alchemy. The Culdees ran hospitals and used their extensive knowledge of herbs and ancient remedies to cure ailments or broken limbs. They also used acupuncture, tattoos and mind altering drugs. They regularly meditated and sought guidance from God and from Mother Earth. They scoured the heavens for magical signs in the form of miraculous comets and the northern lights. Changes in heaven were omens which could bring on a great harvest or a calamitous famine ridden year.

The King relied on them to help with all these domestic things, but with matters of warmongering and battles, he was definitely the leader.

On one such skirmishing expedition sadly Kenneth’s eldest son, Prince Gillecomgain, was killed and much saddened the King asked the monks what he should do. They counselled him and with much thought and care, it was decreed that the middle son, Prince Giric, would now become Kenneth’s heir. Honoured by this, Giric, a serious minded fellow, took on the responsibilities as befitted an heir and accompanied his father on most expeditions around the country.

Meanwhile the Queen stayed in the castle in Edinburgh with their youngest son Brude and whiled away the days with sewing, singing and walks in the hills and quite often just gazing out of the window day dreaming. She often wondered what it would be like to travel far and wide like her husband. It was quite hard to stay behind, the days were long and boring and waiting for news could take forever and the Queen yearned for some excitement.

One day Giric returned from a battle with the Danes, without his father and much alarmed the Queen asked her son where the King was. Giric smiled, Mother, after weeks of fighting, father has gone hunting in the forest and may be gone a few days. He is merely relaxing and enjoying himself and will be home presently. The Queen was not happy, many weeks apart but he did not rush home to see her? He no longer loved her, she thought in despair. She summoned her personal guard and whispered to him that she wanted him to follow the King on his next outing and find out what he was up to and why he was reluctant to return home to be with his family.

The guard dutifully followed the King on his next expedition and found out something that made him sweat. He was nervous about telling the Queen knowing full well she would be angry. And she was. She was outraged. The guard reported seeing the King disappear into the forest, but not for sport of hunting, no, he had found his true love, a beautiful maiden named Bertha. She lived with her father in a wee house in the burn of Badlieu, deep in the forests of Polmood. The guard spied upon her as she walked about her garden and he realized she cradled a small baby in her arms.

Without further details, the Queen ordered her guard to go back into the forest and kill this maiden and her baby immediately. With a heavy heart the guard went into the forest and fulfilled his mission.

Not long after the King rode by the forest abode and found the house abandoned. In a nearby ditch the decomposing bodies of his mistress, his son and her father lay. Shocked and beside himself with grief, his heart was torn as he understood something dreadful, his wife must have a hand in this. He rode swiftly back to the castle in Edinburgh.

No sooner had she realized her wretched jealousy would ruin her husband’s affection for her, the Queen took a potion and poisoned herself. When the King arrived she was already dead. Kenneth was now left with his two sons, Giric and Brude and a deep depression. So low did he sink, he drank heavily and cared little for the matters of his country.

News soon broke out that the King had gone to pieces and the rumour mill ground the murmours of the people - a more appropriate King should be found. Afterall the people needed a great leader and Prince Giric was still considered very young and naive. King Kenneth’s relatives saw an opportunity for their promotion and very soon his cousin Malcolm was mettled up and ready to fight for the throne. Meeting on the battlefield, a despondent Kenneth with Giric at his side faced up to Malcolm. The scene was bloody and fierce; poor Giric was killed very quickly and therefore knew nothing of what followed. Kenneth III fared a little worse, his eyes were plucked out and he was taken prisoner and rotted to death in a dungeon under Malcolm’s castle. Malcolm now made his way to Scone for his coronation. Not a popular choice amongst the people, he became Malcolm II.

Who had been left? Abandoned, his entire family destroyed? Young Brude, orphaned. The Culdee monks quickly offered him sanctuary, taking their ward to a small island retreat in Fife called St Serf’s Inch, and brought him up secretly. Perhaps one day he would secure the throne of Alba away from his father’s cousin. Brude represented the future and the Culdees would ensure that he was educated, healthy and grew into a strong leader.

Brude learned the ways of the Culdees and grew up to be a law abiding, peaceful man. He caught the eye of the Mormaer of the Pictish Kingdom of Fife, who appreciated what a great catch Brude was for his daughter. In time the two young people fell in love and married. Through his wife, Brude became the heir to Fife. And with that knowledge the Culdees felt reassured that the stepping stones to building up their ward to become King of Alba was stronger.

In time the Princess had a baby, a little girl they named Gruoch, born with hair as white as snow. Unfortunately the Princess died and the poor wee thing never got to know her mother. Brude was heartbroken, but devoted himself to looking after the Kingdom of Fife and raising his daughter. Gruoch learned the ways of the Picts, like her mother’s people and was schooled by the Culdees, as her father had once been. One day she would marry and her husband would become the next Mormaer of Fife and they would live happily ever after, because after all that is what usually happened in these legendary tales... or did it?

Chapter One - 1028 a.d. - Fife - Springtime

As I kneel down by the stream I can see the fuzzy outline of my face distorted by the fast moving waters. I wish I could stop crying, my eyes are stinging and gone all puffy. Reflected above me, the long trees are sighing with a breeze off the North Sea. I’m pleased that their branches have knitted together to hide me and my sorrows. I splash water onto my face and it is numbingly cold. Blinking hard I take a sharp intake of breath and start to breathe normally again. I’m hiding away today. My father announced that he is getting married again and I’m devastated. I haven’t told him how I feel, he wouldn’t understand anyway. I don’t know the woman, she’s old, but she is quite pretty I suppose. We share the same name, Gruoch, but apart from that I can’t think of anything I have in common with her. I am supposed to go their wedding feast this afternoon and smile graciously and enjoy myself, but I really don’t want to.

Today was supposed to be a day of remembrance for my grandfather and my uncle Giric, but my father hasn’t even mentioned them. So I’m going to sit here in the woods for a while and just think about them. What would they have been like I wonder? Strong and brave? Well, I only know what the Culdees monks have told me, as I never met them because they died before I was born.

I didn’t know my own mother either. Sorry, that makes me cry. I am just feeling sorry for myself. I’m thirteen already and I should be thinking about getting married, not going to my father’s wedding! My mother married at this age and I have often wondered what she would have said to me about finding a husband? I hope he’s handsome and good fun, oh and kind of course. I would hate to live with someone ugly, grumpy and wants to beat me when he feels like it. That makes me shudder.

I think that now father is getting married he will want me to as well, so I must prepare myself for that talk! I can imagine him now getting all serious and nodding sagely as he wags a finger at me, Gruoch, you are a young woman of note, you must marry wisely. Through your mother, you inherit the lands of Fife and through your father you have rights to the throne of Alba. You must find a husband worthy of you!

I’ll bide my time, I want to make sure I make the right choice for me!

I do like the solitude of the woods. This is the only place I feel I can be myself and not worry about swanning around being the Mormaer’s daughter. Here, I can kick off my shoes and feel the mossy peaty ground between my toes... Oh dear, I have got quite muddy already!

I’m taking a few moments to enjoy my surroundings. I can smell the damp earth, hear the birds singing and I can feel the spring in the air. I can also sense I’m not totally alone today, although I think it is the spirits of my ancestors that are with me and not any living person nearby. I’ve put my fur cloak on the ground so that I can lie on it. I’m not wearing that dress they’ve laid out for me in my room, no! I’m wearing my Pictish gold torque around my neck and my leather clothes, because they are warm and fit snugly. I can imagine my father rolling his eyes in despair, Why can’t you dress appropriately Gruoch?

When I dress this way it makes me feel closer to my mother, she would have approved. I’ve even got her little golden knife swinging from my belt, it glints in the sunshine. I definitely feel more comfortable in my Pictish clothes rather than the Norman styles my stepmother wears, with that gold cross at her throat. I think she speaks French mainly, or something like that. Don’t really care.

I wish I could summon all the wildlife to come and bite her in two. I’ll gather all these twigs and moss from the ground then raise my arms and scream to the heavens; perhaps the ancestors will hear me. Who can save me?

I just heard a twig snap, but I can’t see anyone. It could be a deer or maybe a wild boar. That would be dangerous, I should think about going back to the castle before it gets late and I know everyone will be looking for me, wanting me to get ready. They will tie up my hair too. I prefer it loose, it is down to my waist and very curly. It just wants to be wild and free not all trussed up. Like me really. Right, I must away home and face the music.

♦

A little way off someone watched her through the bracken and trees. His name was Gille Coemgain mac Mail Brigti. He had ridden solidly for two days and was due at Brude’s castle for the wedding, a representative from the Clans of Moray. His brother Malcolm, the Mormaer of Moray, was unable to attend because of local feuds and skirmishes with King Malcolm II’s men.

Although Gille’s men had ridden ahead to announce him and he knew he was late, he had wandered into the wood to water his horse in a small burn and to arrange his attire before approaching the castle. He was bemused by the scene of the young woman and her very inappropriate secret theatrics. She was obviously of Pictish descent by her apparel, almost bare. He shivered at the thought of the fresh spring temperature, she must be frozen. She seemed very angry and upset and he felt like he had intruded into a very private scene. He did not wish to disturb her and was going to creep away, when he heard a scream, so shrill, so high, he swivelled back towards the young woman, now standing and twirling, and waving her fists full of twigs towards heaven as if conjuring all the birds of the sky and the animals of the forest to follow her into some unknown battle. Intrigued and stifling a small chuckle, Gille remained still and hidden. For a moment he had thought those twigs were a fistful of arrows, he felt such relief.

He gasped when he spied her face, astounded at her natural beauty, even in temper she looked amazingly powerful and at the same time so young and vulnerable. Having dropped her twigs, Gruoch had put on her cloak and covered her loose black hair. She then ran effortlessly out of the woods turning onto the dirt road leading towards the castle.

As soon as she had left the scene and he felt he was alone in the woods he threw back his head, laughed aloud and so hard his horse startled. He calmed the stallion and gathered up his things, mounted and rode slowly in the wild girl’s wake.

As Gille approached the castle the sun was setting in the west. This was a magnificent timber homestead, now silhouetted against a sky splashed salmon pink. It took his breath away.

He became conscious of the noise rising from within the Castle walls, that the feasting and partying was already underway. As he dismounted, a lad rushed forward to take his stallion to the stables. He was warmly greeted at the oaken front door and very soon stood with heather mead in hand, talking with one and all within the great hall of Brude’s castle.

Now he could relax and eat heartily from the large communal plates bearing mounds of herring, others held large haunches of roasted wild boar. He looked around the huge torch lit dining hall for the young woman who had amused him with her wondrous lack of decorum and abandon in the woods. Who was she? She was fairly wild and taming her would be a challenge, but he relished the thought.

Then he saw her. Looking pale, but it was unmistakably the same girl. Now dressed in a bright blue gown, demure and composed, she was sitting at the head table with the Mormaer, Brude, and his bride, Lady Gruoch. The girl ate surprisingly little and occasionally drank from a wooden goblet. Gille found it hard to drag his gaze away, amused at her transformation. Her carefully braided hair intertwined with gold thread and a circle of gold lay across her forehead. Her almond shaped blue eyes were feathered with black lashes and from time to time they flickered skywards. He wondered if she was secretly summoning the birds to rescue her again. Her ruby lips bore a slight sullen pout and remained mute. He noticed at her neck a gold torque, a sign of her Pictish heritage. He asked around him and established this was Princess Gruoch, Mormaer Brude’s only child from his first marriage. He recognized perchance her secret torment, which she had chosen to share only with the nature in the woods. He wished to reach out to her to let her know he could understand her feelings and the inability to control such matters, like her father’s marriage. But he could not. He must wait until introduced by Brude and he would look for an opportunity to speak with her and perhaps to dance with her. He longed to hold her close to him, to keep her safe.

♦

The music is so loud and my head is thumping. The hall has become smoky from damp logs someone has put on the fire and the air smells sweaty from so many people gathering together. We have been sat at this table for hours now and everyone seems to be drunk. There is so much food and for once I seem to have lost my appetite. Oh no! Father is whispering something in that woman’s ear and I can’t bear it. They are laughing at some private joke. I feel quite surreal. I also feel uncomfortable dressed up like this, and everyone keeps looking at me, it’s unnerving. Although they stare, I don’t think anyone notices how I feel inside, as I’m taking great trouble to hide my true feelings. I’ve been making small talk with the Viking boy, Thorfinn, seated beside me. His grandfather is Malcolm II, the King, and he’s already told me that four times. But I feel sorry for him. He’s about the same age as me but seems quite childish. He’s grown up in his grandfather’s court because his parents are both dead. His father was the Viking Earl of Orkney, Sigurd Hlodvirsson and his mother was King Malcolm’s daughter. His destiny is to one day rule over Caithness; his grandfather has already decreed it. He’s here today because he came with the King’s representatives, his other grandsons’ Duncan and MacBeth. They are a bit older and haven’t spent much time with the boy. Father said that Thorfinn has three older half brothers arriving here tomorrow. Perhaps one of them will be my new husband! Not sure I wish to marry a Viking. Thorfinn is so excited about it, he’s never met them before. I’m pleased he’s enjoying all this, because I am not. I have a feeling that father has taken this occasion and, not so subtly, using it as an event to invite every bachelor in Alba to meet me.

I’m drinking mead, it is not very alcoholic but it is very sweet, sickly even. People are starting to circulate and move around. Perhaps I can leave soon, I doubt anyone would notice. Father is standing now. This is a good sign as it means that I can also. I need to stretch my legs, and then if I can find my ladies in waiting we can go upstairs and go to bed.

I forgot, I have to be introduced to everyone; I could be here for some time still. Father is speaking to someone across the trestle table and now hugging him. Who is that? I can’t quite hear what they are saying over the mêlée of conversations and laughter of the partygoers, and with pulsating drums, tremulous harps and melodic pipes billowing out from the gallery above. That man is bowing down to my stepmother. Now he’s coming towards me. He has smiling eyes, and yes, he is quite handsome.

My name is Gillecomgain of Moray, you can call me Gille. Our fathers were old friends.