1368 A.D.

Dunster Castle

 

 

 

Rora had been watching the situation for quite some time.

It was a difficult situation for all concerned; word had come from Blackbog Castle that Alexander Forbes had passed away after a brief illness last winter and Jackston’s mother was begging her son to return home to assume his rightful place.  But Jackston was torn – he’d been living in England for over half his life and returning to Scotland, although it had always been in the back of his mind, wasn’t something he was ready to do.  He’d all but adopted England as his home.

So, Rora watched her husband as he paced the battlements, sometimes in quiet discussion with his eldest son, Donnan, who served with his father, or sometimes with his cousin who was the Lord of Dunster. Somewhere back in the family lines, a Forbes ancestor had married in to the House of de Moyon, the Lords of Dunster, and now it was the House of Forbes who ruled over these wild and forbidden lands near the Exmoor forest. Jackston had served his cousin for years as the man’s counsel and most powerful warrior, but with that message from Scotland, it was all about to come to an end.

Twenty years of marriage and eight children later, Rora knew her husband’s heart even more than he did. Seated in the solar of Dunster, she could see the man through the lancet window. That was how she’d been able to watch him for most of the morning, at least when he came into her line of sight. But he’d been all over the place that morning, pacing, thinking, and trying to determine the course of the further for him and for his family. But, in truth, where was nothing more to think about.  As far as Rora was concerned, the path had been set.

She suspected that Jackston knew that, too.

At her feet sat three of their eight children, all three of them girls.  But the first five had been boys, now either fostering or at Dunster serving their father and cousin.  But the little girls were her band of angels, as their father called them, and even now they sat on the floor of Dunster’s solar, sewing little squares of fabric their mother had given them on their way to making a coverlet. 

Even at their ages – Amelia was seven years of age, Cora was five years of age, and little Eleanor was three years of age – they were diligent in their work. That came from their mother, who even after these years still had the heart of a hard worker and a good servant. She was involved in every aspect of Dunster, including the kitchens, and it made the Lady of Dunster’s life considerably easier. Jackston had given up long ago chiding her on involving herself in the menial work around the castle; she enjoyed it, and it was ingrained into her, so he didn’t have the heart to scold her about it. If it made her happy, then he was happy.

But the result with his leniency of her was very industrious children. Rora had taught them all to work hard, even the boys before they went away to foster. Jackston had eight children who weren’t afraid to cut wood or sweep a floor, something that, in truth, he was very proud of. He and Rora had productive children.

But they were all English-born and bred.

That was a good deal of his problem, Rora knew. Even though she and Jackston were born in the highlands, their children weren’t. That had been the core of Jackston’s turmoil but when Eleanor pricked her finger with the bone needle and began to wail, Rora pushed aside thoughts of her overwrought husband to tend to her weeping child. It was just a tiny prick, but Eleanor wept as though the needle had gone straight through her finger. As Rora was dabbing away the blood and kissing the wound, Jackston suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“What have ye done to me bairn?” he demanded, though he was jesting. He swooped in and picked up Eleanor, kissing the injured finger she shoved into his face. “Ellie, lass, ‘twill be fine. ‘Tis just a little mark.”

Eleanor was convinced it was a much larger wound even as her father soothed her. Rora watched her husband as he tenderly soothed the toddler.

“As ye can see, I’ve been stickin’ needles in her,” Rora said. “’Tis a good thing ye came tae save her when ye did.”

Jackston kissed the little finger one last time and rocked the baby, who was calming in her father’s loving presence. “’Tis fortunate she has me tae save her from her terrible mother,” he said, noticing that the other two girls were sewing diligently. “Ah, now – are ye makin’ something fine for me?”

Amelia, the eldest, nodded firmly, her auburn curls bouncing. “Aye, Papa. We are making a coverlet for your bed!”

She sounded very proud and Jackston grinned. “Ye’re angels, indeed, and a fine tribute tae yer mother.”

“I thought ye said I was a terrible mother,” Rora said.

Jackston snorted. “A slip of me tongue.”

Rora grinned as she shook her head as she threaded her own needle. “Careful with yer tongue,” she said. “Men have been known tae lose theirs for lesser insults.”

Jackston was still grinning when she glanced up at him. “I adore ye, lass, and ye know it.”

“Now ye try tae make amends, do ye?”

Jackston laughed softly and put Eleanor to her feet when she squired. “What can I do tae make it up tae ye?”

“Ye can tell me what ye’re thinkin’. I’ve been watchin’ ye pace all morning, Jackie. What are ye thinkin’?”

Jackston sobered dramatically. Heaving a sigh, he lowered his gaze and began his pacing again, only on a smaller scale. The solar wasn’t big enough for him to really gain any steam in, so he simply shuffled around until he came to the hearth. Then, he leaned on it, gazing into the low-burning flames.

“I’m thinkin’ many things,” he muttered. “Too many things.”

“Like what?”

“Guilt. I havena seen me da in four years. He died without seein’ me before he passed.”

“That couldna be helped.”

He sighed again. “I know,” he said. “But I feel guilty that I wasna there. All he had is Blackbog Castle and the lands it sits upon. Now it’s just me mum….”

“Lilliana is a strong woman. She’ll do what needs tae be done now that yer da is gone.”

Jackston nodded but he was becoming agitated. “I know she’s strong,” he said. “But she shouldna have tae be strong. I should be there.”

“So ye want tae go?”

He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “That is the problem. I dunna want tae go home. England is me home; our home. Dunster is our home. It’s where our children were born. And our children, Rora – they’re English. Only the older boys have been tae Blackbog and the highlands, but all of them are English tae the bone. We canna take a brood of English bairns intae the highlands. They would be outlanders. It wouldna be fair tae them.”

He had a point. Rora had been thinking the same thing but she didn’t want to voice her concerns. This was Jackston’s decision and she knew he was torn over it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the land of his birth; it was simply he loved England better. Jackston was a man of the world.

“What choice have ye, then?” she asked as she continued to sew. “Did ye speak with Ramsey?”

Ramsey Forbes was the Lord of Dunster. Jackston nodded his head. “He doesna want tae lose me, but he will abide by my decision.”

“And Donnie? I saw ye speaking with him, too.”

Jackston lifted his eyebrows at the mention of his nineteen-year-old son. Donnan Forbes was a shining star of a young man, verging on becoming a fully-fledged knight. He’d fostered at Lioncross Abbey Castle as well as Kirk Castle on the marches. He was a strong fighter and a brilliant tactician, and Jackston was immensely proud of the lad. He had four other sons – Rory, James, Gregor, and Finlay – and the boys were strong, proud, and intelligent. But There was something about Donnan that set him apart from the rest. Perhaps it was because he was Jackston’s first born. Whatever it was, father and son were quite close. Jackston trusted Donnan’s opinions.

“Donnie,” he muttered, clearly mulling over the conversation he’d had with his eldest. “Donnie is concerned with tradition. He’s concerned what will happen if I dunna take me da’s place at Blackbog.”

“If we do not take our rightful place at Blackbog Castle, the clans will absorb it and it will be no more.”

The voice came from the doorway. Rora and Jackston looked over to see Donnan standing there, stepping in to the room. He was taller than his father though not as bulky, with the same long flowing auburn hair. Donnan Forbes looked to his mother.

“That is what I told him,” he said, pointing to his father. “I am afraid that if Papa does not go to the highlands to take his rightful place, then Blackbog and the history of the Forbes of Blackbog will be no more.”

Rora nodded faintly. “That is true,” she said. “But ye know yer father doesna feel the heart of the highlands. He was born there but his soul doesna breathe that air. He is more at home in England, here at Dunster. But he’s Scots by birth and that makes him torn.”

Donnan nodded. “I realize that,” he said, “but a legacy is too precious to be given up so easily.”

“Yer da understands that.”

Donnan glanced at his father. “I have been thinking on the problem and I believe I have come up with a solution.”

Jackston liked the sound of that. “Speak, Donnie lad.”

Now Donnan fixed his father in the eye. “I think I should go.”

Jackston couldn’t conceal his surprise at that suggestions. “But why?” he asked. “Ye were born here, at Dunster. Ye’ve fostered in the finest houses. Why would ye go tae the highlands when that isn’a the life ye’ve known?”

Donnan took a few more steps in to the chamber, thoughtfully, squatting down beside his baby sister when she toddled over to him. He put his arms around her and hugged her.

“Because I have fostered in the finest houses,” he said quietly. “I have known all of the advantages you could give me. I have been well-schooled and I understand our lands and the politics. But I have more ambition simply to be a knight to a great lord, Papa. I want my legacy. I want to be in control of my own lands and I want to forge alliances with neighbors. You are content to remain here as Ramsey’s general but I am not. Papa, I want my own lands and my own life. If you do not want to return to Blackbog, let me do it. Let me go there and claim the legacy I will inherit from you. Let me be the one to keep the Forbes name in the highlands as something proud and strong.”

Jackston was actually take aback at the passionate speech. In truth, it gave him an entirely new perspective seeing it from Donnan’s view point, something he hadn’t considered before.

“Is that what ye truly feel?” he asked. “Why did ye not say this earlier when we spoke of it?”

Donnan shrugged, looking at the little sister in his arms. She was poking at his nose. “I suppose I had to think on it,” he said. “If I stay here, I will never be anything other than your knight. I want to be something more.”

It hurt Jackston to hear that but in the same breath, he completely understood it.  He didn’t want to remain in Scotland because he felt a pull to England. Now, Donnan was feeling the highland blood flowing through his veins and he wanted to answer the call. It was a reversal of roles that Jackston had never really considered.

“Do ye feel as if ye’ll be nothin’ if ye stay here?” he asked. “If that is the case, I’ll send ye back tae de Lohr. He is a man with many properties and….”

Donnan cut him off. “Nay, Papa,” he said, “for anywhere de Lohr put me, it would always be at a de Lohr property. Never something all my own. Give me Blackbog, Papa. Give it to me and I swear I shall make you proud.”

Jackston was feeling a stab to his heart for reasons he couldn’t completely comprehend. All he knew was that his son wanted to leave him. His son wasn’t happy to be in his shadow. But as he thought on that, well did Jackston understand that view. No son wanted to be in the shadow of his father. Donnan wanted to forge a new life for himself.

He wanted his legacy.

“Ye have always made me proud, lad,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Ye must forgive me for not realizing ye felt so strongly about yer Scots legacy.”

“I suppose I did not realize it myself until we received the missive from Blackbog.”

“Are ye sure this is what ye want?”

“I am certain, Papa.”

Jackston didn’t want to let him go. He looked at Rora, who was sitting with her sewing in her lap, gazing up at her husband. Jackston was looking for some kind of signal from her, disapproval or approval, but all he saw was trust. Trust and hope. She was leaving the decision up to him, like it or not.

Sighing heavily, Jackston returned his attention to Donnan.

“I suppose every man wants something of his very own,” he said quietly. “If ye’re sure this is what ye want, then I willna deny ye yer legacy.”

Donnan broke out in a grin of relief. “I am glad you understand.”

Jackston wouldn’t let him get too excited about it. “But ye’re a Sassenach,” he pointed out. “It willna be easy for ye. Even as the grandson of Alexander Forbes, the clans may not embrace ye.”

“It is a chance I am willing to take. Mayhap you will go with me to Blackbog Castle and introduce me to those you know. It would make it easier for me. Mayhap they would accept me more easily if you did.”

Rora stood up from her chair. “Of course he will go with ye,” she said. “Yer da will do all he can tae endear ye tae the clans, as the son of Jackston Forbes. It will not be difficult for them tae accept ye, I know it. Mayhap yer da will even find ye a nice Scots lass tae marry.  He can arrange an alliance and ye’ll be the proudest son the House of Forbes has ever seen.”

Donnan stood up and put his arm around his mother’s shoulder, kissing her temple. “Thank you, Mother,” he said. “I knew you would understand. I… I feel strongly that I must do this.”

Jackston looked at the two of them, knowing he was outnumbered. Whether or not he wanted to lose his eldest was of no issue; Donnan had pleaded his case and as much as Jackston didn’t want to let his son out of his sight, that’s how much he knew the lad had to go. He began to feel rather grieved about it.

“I suppose I knew this day would come, when ye wanted tae spread yer wings and fly the nest,” he said, putting a hand on his boy’s cheek. “The House of Forbes could ask for no greater legacy than ye, Donnie.  If I went home again, my heart wouldna be in it, but yer heart is already full of love for yer heritage. I understand what it is tae follow yer heart.”

No truer words were every spoken.

Two weeks later, on a warm summer’s day, Donnan and Jackston left Dunster Castle and headed north to Scotland. They traveled in August and into September, when the weather grew cooler but it was still good to travel in.

Late in September, amongst the fields of heather and the dark and rocky hills, Blackbog Castle finally came into view and Lilliana Forbes, very old and very gray, was there to greet them.  When Jackston explained that Donnan had come to take charge of Blackbog Castle, the woman wept with joy. Even if her son had no intention of remaining in the highlands, her strong and proud grandson was home to stay and at a gathering of the clans in November, it was Jackston who stood before Ross, MacKay, Menzies, Sutherland, Munro, and Gunn to introduce the new Laird of Blackbog Castle, Donnan Forbes.

He had six marriage offers within the hour.

The Forbes legacy would live on.

 

 

 

*** THE END ****