Nigel Tranter - The Path of the Hero King

So it was decided, MacGregor would leave for his galley forthwith, and return early after dark the next night. Meanwhile Campbell would slip off alone, like any cateran, with a Lennox guide, to reach his brother at Ardincaple, so that boats could be assembled for the voyage to Bute.

The MacGregor and the Campbell left almost simultaneously -but not together.

Chapter Three

All in that little ship, heaving on the long Atlantic swell, were used to seeing impressive castles. Bruce himself owned a round dozen of them, at least, as Earl of Carrick and Lord of Annandale and Galloway and Garioch -even though all were now in English hands and of no use to him. Lennox had almost as many. But none of the vessel’s passengers had ever seen the like of this, as, rounding the jutting headland a bare half-mile out from that wicked shore, they stared upwards.

To call the place an eagle’s nest, a sea-eagle’s nest, was the feeblest inadequacy. The headland of Dunaverty itself soared sheerly hundreds of feet above the crashing waves, and the thrusting narrow bastion or stack, linked to the main cliff by the merest neck, rose higher, a dizzy pinnacle of rock. And on the very apex of this, a mere extension of the beetling stack, the castle was perched, clinging unbelievably to the uneven summit and precipitous sides, itself tall, narrow, almost incredible, an arrogant challenge not to man but to sea and sky. A great banner flew proudly from the topmost tower, and though this was dwarfed by height and distance, it could be seen to bear a simple device of a single black galley on white, un differenced the emblem of the Isles.

But impressive as it might be, it was not the castle nor this fluttering galley which held the watchers’ gaze, in the end. Farther west than the castle-rock another headland reached out, considerably lower but farther into the sea than the other, to curve round southwards in a crook and to act as a mighty breakwater.

And in the sheltered anchorage thus formed, protected from the ocean rollers and the prevailing winds, was a sight as strange as the cliff-top castle. Row upon row of true, long, low, lean galleys lay there, their masts and great slantwise spars a forest-but a disciplined forest-their white sails furled like a flock of seabirds’ folded wings, their tall carved prows up-thrust like the heads of a host of sea-monsters. Someone counted twenty-seven of these killer-wolves of the Western Sea, another thirty. Lying tethered there, motionless but menacing, they made a startling impact.

“I’ faith-Angus Og himself must be at Dunaverty this day!”

Bruce exclaimed.

“None other could have that pack of hounds in leash! And, unless I mistake, that is the un differenced Galley of the Isles flying above yon hold.”

“Does it bode good? Or ill?” Edward Bruce demanded.

“God knows! But Angus Og MacDonald hates Alexander MacDougall of Lorn!”

“The Steward sent word of your coming here, to the captain of this castle, Sire,” Campbell said. James the High Steward of Scotland, from Bute, had provided this ship.

“So they know that we come.”

“And this MacDonald has come in person to receive us!” the King’s brother snarled.

”I’d sooner lack him! I trust none of these Highland savages. “Sir

Neil Campbell, although he himself had no love for the MacDonalds, stiffened. One day there would have to be a reckoning.

“My Highland subjects are no more savage, neither better nor worse than most of those nearer home, Edward,” the King re.

proved.

“And, it seems, we are in their hands now. Do not forget

Nevertheless, Bruce drummed fingers on the hilt of his great sword. What they were seeing undoubtedly represented a complication, and a drastic one. Dunaverty Castle, at the very tip of the great peninsula of Kin tyre which thrust out towards Ireland, was in fact, save for the Isle of Man, the southernmost outpost of the former kingdom of the Isles, and most strategically situated to dominate the sea-lanes between the Hebridean north and Ireland, Man and England. On his assumption of the crown, Bruce had sent Sir Robert Boyd here, to make sure of Dunaverty, one of his first acts. And Boyd had, somehow, taken the castle, and left it in the care of a captain. Now, it seemed, Angus Og of the Isles had taken it, in turn. What did this imply? Were they running their heads into a noose, here? Not that they could turn back now.

And even if the self-styled Lord of the Isles had decided that Dunaverty should be his, why was he here in person? Impressive as this outpost was, it was nevertheless a very unimportant corner of the vast and far flung territory of the Isles, which included not only the Inner and Outer Hebrides, bat great portions of the West Highland mainland, not excepting this seventy-mile-long peninsula of Kintyre. That Angus Og, its lord-or prince, as he still called himself-should happen to be at Dunaverty this day, was highly significant, whether by chance or otherwise.

“Those galleys are not long in from the sea,” the experienced chief of Clan Campbell pointed out.

“See-men work on them, wash down decks, coil ropes. I would say that they were not here last night.” He did not sound overjoyed.

None commented.

Turning into the bay, the King’s ship made for necessarily humble and inferior moorings at the tail-end of the tethered fleet.

Campbell and Edward Bruce were for once in agreement that it would be wise to send an emissary to the castle, first, to test the climate of welcome; but the King would have none of it. No skulking and standing off could avail them anything here. Their vessel, however stout, could neither out sail nor better in fight even one of these leashed greyhounds. They had come to Dunaverty as the nearest secure hold which their enemies would be unlikely to challenge.

For better or for worse, here they were. There was nowhere they might flee from the Lord of the Isles.

Bruce himself led the way ashore-perforce across the decks of three or four galleys, where tough, bare-torsoed and kilted clansmen eyed them grimly, and pointedly returned no greetings. On dry land, staggering slightly after the rolling and pitching of the notoriously hazardous sea passage round the Mull of Kintyre from the sheltered waters of the Firth of Clyde estuary, the royal party proceeded round the bay beside the crashing lace-white combers, to where a long, zigzag flight of steps was cut sheerly in the naked face of the cliff, a dizzy ascent but apparently the only access from shore to castle.

The climb, on worn and uneven steps, without so much as rope as guard or handrail, was not for the light-headed. There was not a little pressing against the inner rock wall and keeping of eyes steadily averted from the outer drop. In the dark, or in a storm of wind or rain, the thing would have been nothing short of suicidal. Fortunately the King had a good head for heights-and where he led, none could decently refuse to follow.

At the cliff-top these stairs evidently led to a tiny post em-gate in the soaring castle walls, the start of whose masonry was barely distinguishable from the living rock. But since the steps were on the cliff proper, and the castle crowned the almost detached stack, it was necessary to bridge the gap. This was achieved by a lengthy, sloping and removable gangway which reached across the yawning abyss at a somewhat acute angle, some forty feet long by not much more than three feet wide, this again without handrail. A less enticing approach to a house would be hard to imagine.

The landward access appeared to be by drawbridges over three deep water-filled ditches across a narrow neck of ground. But the outer of these bridges was up, and men were clearly waiting for the visitors at the narrow postern across the ghastly gangplank.

Bruce did not hesitate. Without even a backward glance at his companions, he stepped out on to the sloping spidery planking, and strode up. It was at least ribbed with cross-bars for the feet to grip-though equally these could cause the feet to trip. He did not once look down but kept his gaze firmly on the group who watched and waited beyond. Nevertheless he was far from unaware of the appalling drop so close on either side. Was this typical of Dunaverty’s reception of guests?