Blood of the Clans
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Blood Of The Clans Ch. 46 free porn video
Therese stood on the foredeck with Captain Jean-Louis La Pierre, trying to remember which inlet was the right one to Tioram. Passing the Isle of Coll, she remembered the way when she came with Sorley. Sailing between the mainland and Muck, the captain used all of his navigational skills to travel in the unknown waters. Therese smiled happily and bounced on her feet when she recognized the entrance to Moidart. La Pierre had the men sound the area for depth and saw the sandbars dotting the channel. He had the ships drop sail and weigh anchor, before setting a rowboat over the side, while Therese and himself sat in the seats. Four sailors plied the oars, as they were slowly rowed to Tioram, Therese getting more anxious the closer they came.
The sails were spotted and the call rang out, bringing Arabella from her chambers, to race to the high tower. She studied the small craft and the passengers aboard, trying to make out who it was. She could make out the bright, blue dress Therese was wearing and knew it was her, but she stayed long enough to make out the regalia of the officer’s uniform sitting beside her. She left the tower and raced down the stone steps as fast as she could and out of the castle. The rowers raised oars as the keel slid ashore. Arabella was waiting for the captain to help Therese over the side, before she quickly hugged her and wanted to know why she was there.
‘Mon souer, my comrades have come to rescue me and now they are taking me to Donan to protect Garreth, now that he is an ally of France. Come, Arabella. Come with these men and we can save our men from battle. I do not remember the way to the castle Donan and I need you to guide us.’ Therese told her in excited urgency.
Arabella looked at her friend and then the captain.
‘Is this true? Yer going tae sail tae Donan and do battle against MacRae wi’ us?’ Arabella asked him pointedly.
‘Oui, Mademoiselle Arabella. Madame Therese has pled with her highness, Princess Margaret and it is agreed we are to defend Laird Garreth at her request.’ La Pierre told her.
‘My sweet, Therese, how can I ever repay yer kindness tae us. Let’s talk no more and be away then.’ she told her and hugged her quickly, before climbing on board the long row boat.
‘I must warn ye, Captain La Pierre, there is a frigate that is there now and we face danger in attacking it.’ Arabella warned him.
La Pierre laughed at hearing Arabella’s worries. ‘My dear Lady, a frigate has but no more than sixty cannons aboard. I have one hundred and twenty and two frigates myself with sixty guns each. Their shot won’t do any damage to me, as the hull is too thick for their shot to do damage.’ he told her.
Arabella looked at him and then to the huge ship outside the entrance and the two smaller vessels along each side. Three rows of gun ports were open and barrels at the ready, letting Arabella know the captain was being serious in his boast. The closer they came, the more imposing the ship was in size. The warship’s crew threw down lines to secure the rowboat to them, while the four crew scaled the rope netting to the deck. On his order, the men raised the boat from the water and secured it to the side rigging. The ladies were helped aboard and then the captain stepped on deck.
‘Raise sails and set a course for Eilean Donan Castle in Loch Alsh. Have all cannons readied and await my command.’ La Pierre shouted to his next in line.
Immediately sails were raised and the sounds of crews tending to their cannons was heard below them. The other two ships, L’Insurgente and L’Vengeance, were doing the same and in little time, all three were making their way up the Sound of Sleat. Therese and Arabella stood with the captain and gave directions to enter the loch and which route to take, to avoid shallow waters and the island in the middle. From behind them, a commotion arose and they turned towards it to see what it was.
Immediately the captain removed his hat and bowed, then Therese bowed elegantly, pulling Arabella to join her, to which Arabella curtseyed her finest that schooling had taught her. The finely dressed young woman looked about at the coast and then to the ladies still bowed to her. Before she came within earshot, Therese had told Arabella it was Princess Margaret of Valois, sister of the king, to which Arabella wanted to know why she didn’t say she was here.
‘Rise, Lady Therese and this must be your friend, Lady Arabella MacDonald.’ she said smiling, allowing the exchange of kissing on the cheeks, before she turned her attention to the crimson haired beauty of Arabella.
Margaret looked her over from head to toe admiringly, before commenting.
‘Lady Therese hasn’t done you enough justice in describing you to me. I am most certainly jealous of you already.’ her highness told her, then saw Arabella’s face flash a look of concern, to which she giggled playfully, before looking at Arabella’s bountiful breasts suggestively.
Arabella chuckled happily at that and her breasts bounced as she did. That caused the women to laugh and the men to wonder about them.
‘Come ladies, it is far too windy on deck for me. I will say this, Lady Arabella, your country has very magnificent scenery to look at.’ she said looking at the coast, on their way to her stateroom.
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‘Excuse me, Tavish, sorry for interrupting, but how did a Princess end up sailing to Scotland to rescue Therese?’ Taylor asked him, the others just as interested.
‘Och well, a wee a bit about that then, before we go on. Okay, at that time, Henri the third was the king, but do tae his, eh, hmm, dalliances and preferences, shall we say,’ he paused, keeping it civil for Sean’s ears, ‘his mother, Catherine de Medici, his sister, Margaret and a few others, actually ran the country instead of him. Mother and daughter both enjoyed the oils and vinegars that Therese’s estates produced and gave their seal of approval on them, After hearing of Therese’s parents being murdered and the estate in jeopardy, it was Margaret who took interest in the case and of course, Therese. When she heard of her kidnapping and forced return tae Scotland, she took great offence tae the action and saw tae it herself. From what she wrote about it, she looked at it as an adventure. Despite the dangers she faced after agreeing tae go tae Donan, she felt assured her guns outranked anything the English could be sailing and of course, she was right. The Ville de Lyon was a man o’ war, one that had proven her might against English ships before.’
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Cheers went up from the men of the cannon battery along with Blair and his men, as the Justice sailed past. The crew of the Justice waved back and it was only a matter of time and position, before the cannons roared from the frigate and began pounding the walls of Donan. Soldiers and clansmen took positions along the coast, in case any birlinns pulled ashore in hopes of attack. The birlinns continued their pursuit, not coming within range of the hidden forces, as they dogged behind, waiting to find a means of attacking the larger vessel.
James MacRae and Captain Rennie rode at the head of the line and had come to the bridge built by their Pioneers. With no reason to suspect anything, they rode over the wooden platform and onto the opposite side of River Croe. The passage was slow, as animals stuttered in their steps, feeling the movement of the platform under their hooves. MacRae and the captain moved to the side and watched the progression. The first of the carts and then the cannon came across and continued on, as the troops and cavalry waited to cross behind. The archers sat behind the bushes twenty yards away and watched patiently, as their targets came within the killing zone. MacRae and Rennie made their way to the head of the line to form ranks again, as the carts and cannon pulled towards the archers to let the main body pass. In a whistling strike, the oxen pull
ing the cannon were felled and two others pulling supplies.
Before anyone knew what had happened, another volley streaked out and started finding men and horse. With all swiftness, the archers were back to their horses and riding hard for the pass at the far side of Gleann Lichd. MacRae heard them riding from behind the cover of the trees and was first to spot them. He ordered his riders to hunt them down and make sure none lived. The open land was flat and even, giving to a full out race of man against man, horse against horse. Clods of soft soil were thrown up by the hooves, as they sought purchase and speed, the riders urging them for all they had. It was a thousand yards to the start of the mountain pass by Sgurr an Airgid and they had covered half of the way, but MacRae’s riders were closing on them. Cavendish MacDonald felt his tunic being pulled and looked down to see an arrow had passed through it.
He looked back and saw two of the riders trying to take aim at him and Dougall, so he shouted out to the others and warned of arrows coming. They started to spread out more and ride in curving lines. The pass was right in front of them now and they knew they would lose the riders and their heavier horses, against the fleeter highland ponies that were used to the terrain. Without any cause or reason, the ponies seemed to have more speed and began pulling away from the pursuers. The riders urged their horses for more speed, but the archers kept pulling away from them.
MacRae and the others watched the pursuit and knew it would be close. From where they were, it looked as though they rode together and it was only moments before they would see riders dropping. In his hopes for it to happen, he began chanting, ‘Kill them,’ as he watched. Cavendish and the others started into the beginning of the pass, when they heard the shrieking of the horses behind them. They ventured a quick look and discovered all the horses had stopped dead and wouldn’t ride any further. Covering a distance safe enough to stop, they stopped and turned to see what was causing it. For no apparent reason, the horses were turning around and walking back the way they had come, despite the commands and whipping the riders gave them to do otherwise. They watched for a moment more in disbelief, before they turned and rode through the pass, past the sgurr and down to the other side by Keppoch, before turning north and making their way to the castle. The rider’s horses walked the entire way back and stopped in front of MacRae.
‘Why did ye’s break off chase and come back?’ James roared at them, confused to no end at seeing what he did.
‘The horses stopped by themselves. No matter what we did, they would’ne move. Ye saw us yerself trying tae get them tae go. It was like something had come up in front of us and the horses would’ne pass. E’en when we wanted tae ride back, they would’ne do anything more than walk. I can’ne explain it.’ his son, Lachlan tried explaining to him.
MacRae shook his head in disbelief and told them all to get back in formation. He looked at Rennie and he was shaking his head as well. They turned to see the cannon and carts were hitched with new animals, their riders looking upset now at the prospect of walking the rest of the way to Donan and ordered the march to proceed again.
On top of Beinn Bhuidhe, before the first of the five sisters, Robert and the men watched the entire scene play out before them. Turning to the west, they saw riders coming back down the coast of Duich at full gallop. They knew it was their men and Robert sent two men to meet them and find out their news. Slowly the two made their way towards them down the steep slope and hailed them. The riders quickly made their way to them and pulled up. The two saw the desperate looks on their faces and knew they had found trouble.
‘We need aid tae help the wounded. Some of the men are in bad shape and need tending tae right away. Glendon and the men are o’er there, just before that ridge. His brother, Gordon is in a state that will tear at yer souls, I swear. His face has been burnt away and he’s ready tae see God soon if he does’ne get help. Tell Robert we need more men tae fend off anyone they sent after us and someone who knows what tae do fer aid.’ Kenneth Jacobson told him, his face showing the need his words spoke.
One turned and rode back up as fast as his pony could climb, while the other listened to what had happened during the attack. The movement of MacRae’s army making their way around the point at the base of Sgurr an Airgid caught their attention and stopped the conversation. No words needed to be spoken, to know that death was making its way to Donan’s bridge and the men inside.
The sound of hooves coming towards them broke them from their thoughts and they saw forty riders breaking from the treeline. Kenneth sighed a sense of relief at seeing them and knew his friends had a chance now. He led the clansmen at full gallop back along their route, wanting nothing more than to know their safety was assured.
Robbie was rapt in attention, watching the chase happen and then turned back to keep watch for attackers. It took no time to see a charge of at least thirty cavalry soldiers coming towards him. He gauged the distance away to be two miles, but they were moving fast and he knew they would be upon them in minutes. Turning, he quickly ran as fast as he could, screaming for his father, Brice. Brice came out from under cover of the bushes and looked at his son running towards him.
‘Da, they’re coming. At least thirty heavily armed cavalry this time. We don’ne stand a chance against them. What should we do?’ he asked in panic.
‘Come, get a bowis and dorlochi and we’ll fend them off and maybe lead them away from the men.’ he told him, as they made it back to the bushes.
Robbie quickly explained what was happening and Jacob joined them with the only other bow. They mounted up and rode behind the treeline back to where Robbie had been.
Second Lieutenant Ernest Millington led with the spotter who had followed the men after the attack. He pointed out the area where the men were hiding and Millington led them that way. Brice, Robbie and Jacob took positions behind the last of the dense trees and waited, as the cavalry approached. Sitting on their horses, they saw them coming closer and took aim at the first riders. Three streaks blurred the air and stopped deep in their targets. Millington fell immediately, clutching his neck to stem the flow pumping from it.
The spotter’s last sight was the tip of the arrow penetrating his right eye and ending his life, as he twitched violently for a moment, then fell off. One cavalry rider slumped over, but held on to his horse, as the riders rode past, before understanding what happened and what to do. The three had rearmed and were taking aim at the next three targets, releasing their missiles and watching three more riders drop. Confusion was still rife among them, until several ordered the others to attack into the trees. The three heard the charge ordered and quickly made their way away from the others and into the rising beinn.
The cavalry split into two groups and one chased the three up the ever-steepening rise, while the others continued to where they were told the injured clansmen were.
Without knowing it, the three had created enough of a disruption to allow Kenneth and the others to close the distance and were only five hundred yards away from where Glendon and the others were.
The twelve cavalry rode hard up the rising slope, heading straight for Glendon. They crested the rise and instead of a half dozen men hiding in bushes awaiting slaughter, sixty riders were bearing down on them, less than two hundred yards away. Kenneth led the charge straight at them, swords brandished and ready to strike. Glendon watched along with the others, as Fate allowed them to live a little while longer.
The cavalry were instantly surrounded by thrashing blades, hacking and stabb
ing at them. With the odds at five to one, it took less than five minutes and every horse was bloodied and riderless. Bodies were quickly scavenged for all blades and armour, their purpose once again to protect the living.
An old man approached the bushes where the injured were and took a large satchel from around his neck. He rounded the last bush and saw for himself the state Gordon MacDonald was in. He lay gasping in his brother’s arms, his seared flesh reeking the air around them, then looked into Glendon’s eyes, the look of mercy pleading from them.
‘I am Griffin, healer fer my clan, the McGuire’s. I know how tae take the pain from his burns. I’ll be back wi’ something.’
He ran from the cover and headed for the shore, scouting along it until he saw what he wanted. Wading in to his waist, he began uprooting kelp leaves, until he had enough and raced back. As fast as his gnarled hands could work, he cut the lengths into one foot pieces and began ever so lightly placing them over the burnt flesh. Gordon screamed out at the sensation and tried to remove them, but Glendon held his hands away and let the kelp start to ease the burn’s damage. Tears began filling the eyes of the men, as their empathy for Gordon came out. Most turned away, as Gordon’s screams pierced the air, filling it with the sounds of his pain and agony.
Brice, Robbie and Jacob rode hard up the steep incline, pushing their ponies as hard as they could. Their efforts were paying off and they were leaving their pursuers farther behind them. Knowing their escape was inevitable, one soldier took aim with his bow and let loose his arrow. Brice turned to tell Robbie he thought they had made it clear, when the arrow pierced his son’s shoulder and sent him forward on the horse. Brice quickly took the reins and led his son higher, following Jacob closely. Knowing his son was only injured and not dead, he told Jacob to take Robbie’s reins and turned his horse. As fast as he could, he had his bow ready and an arrow aimed at the soldier with the bow in his hand.
Pulling back as hard as he could, he steadied his arm and then found his mark. In a second, the arrow was out of his fingers and whistling straight and true to its target. The soldier flew off the back of his horse, as they arrow slammed into his head and drove its way through the other side. In a flash, Brice had another arrow out and pulled back on it. Again the faint whistle marked the end of another life, as the lead soldier dropped, the arrow making its way through his armour and lodging deep into his chest. Brice felled two more, before turning and riding up to Jacob and Robbie, the pursuers reluctant to continue chasing and returned to assist the others.
‘Will ye be alright, son?’ Brice asked his son in desperation.
‘Aye, Da. I can’ne move my arm though.’ he told his father, wincing through his words.
‘We’ll ha’e tae ride tae safety, before we can see tae yer wound, boy. Just see tae yerself and I’ll lead ye’ he told his son and took the reins from his hand.
The three moved higher to the ridge and began backtracking towards the others, hoping they were still alive. They came down where the ridge was and at first, halted under cover of the trees, as they spotted the horses. Jacob was first to recognize familiar voices and made for them. Brice led his son close behind and were soon welcomed back by the men and then quickly, helped Robbie from his horse and began tending to his wound. His screams were warranted, as the arrow dragged flesh and muscle with it as they pulled it out. Compress was applied to stem the flow and then wrapped in strips of tunic taken from the dead. Litters had been made and the injured lain on them. They tied them to the spare horses and shortly, a slow trek back to where the MacRae’s had bivouacked began. Even with more than enough horses for every man to ride, Glendon walked beside his brother, his hand always in contact with him, letting him know he would never leave his side.
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