The Grand Hall was bustling with people feasting over whole pigs and drinking tankards of wine. Big, burly, highlander men sat astride the wooden benches that flanked the main table and each and every one of them seemed to be in various degrees of a drink induced stupor. Muriel avoided catching their eyes as she passed them on her way to find her mother, but this was almost impossible considering her appearance. There was no one else in Castle Cawdor, or indeed most of the highlands, quite like her. She attracted attention whenever she entered a room due to her olive skin, her large brown eyes and her rich brown hair. This coupled with her curves made her completely different to any other woman in the whole of Inverness. She stood out, so completely beautiful compared to the pale, scrawny women that surrounded her, and men could rarely take their eyes off her ample bosom and the swell of her hips.
“It’ll be a lucky man who gains your hand,” her mother often told her when Muriel was having one of her moments and expressing her distress at being married off to a stranger. “A lucky man who will do nothing but adore you.”
But it didn’t matter how much her mother told her this, or how much she noticed the wandering eyes of the men in the castle… all she wanted was the right to choose. She wanted to fall in love more than anything else in the world, and she wanted it to be with the right man.
She crossed the hall and her mother caught her eye. Muriel raised her hand to wave and watched her mother shift down to clear a space next to her. As Muriel approached she could, as usual, feel the eyes of the room on her. And as she sat down she breathed a sigh of relief to no longer be on her feet and on show.
“Muriel,” her mother said curtly, “Your father tells me you were out of the castle walls after night fall.”
Muriel winced and rolled her eyes.
“Well I’m here now and no harm came from it,” she snapped, feeling herself instantly tense.
“Some may say we’ve let you take too many liberties over the years,” her mother said, “And as you know you are still without a husband.”
Muriel felt the tears prick her eyes. She had known that this was coming, but she hadn’t expected it to be that night.
“Your father and I have decided that you will wed the son of Lord Rose tomorrow.”
“What?” Muriel got to her feet, the anger coursing through her.
“Sit down Muriel,” her mother said angrily, “Do not make a scene here.”
Her hands were shaking. How could they do this to her with less than a day’s notice? She had never even met Lord Rose, never mind his son… and she certainly didn’t know anything about him.
“The Rose Clan will be a powerful bond for us here at Cawdor in these uncertain times,” her mother whispered out of the side of her mouth whilst looking out across the Great Hall. “You must now step up and do your bit for our family.”
Muriel felt mad with rage but she knew she had nowhere to turn and no way of resisting. This was the moment she had been preparing for her whole life… and the one she had dreaded the most.
“So, that’s it then? You are just going to send me off to a stranger?” she spat.
“Muriel,” her mother laughed and shook her head, “You should have been married off years ago, just be thankful you had this long with us all here at Cawdor… but now the time has come for you to be a woman… you will go off, you will start a beautiful family of your own, and most importantly, you will understand why marriages like this are so important.”
Her mother looked at her and reached her hand up to her cheek.
“You are going to make the most beautiful bride,” she beamed. “Your father and I are so proud of you… and you have no idea how much you are helping our clan by bonding with the Roses.”
Muriel felt a chill roll over her and she squeezed her hands together. Her destiny had finally caught up with her. She was going to be sent off to live in a strange castle with a strange man and there was nothing she could do about it.
Just as she got to her feet and was about to retire for the night with tears in her eyes and regret in her heart a commotion started towards the door of the Grand Hall. Both Muriel and her mother stood side by side and strained their eyes to be able to see over the crowds as a wailing peasant boy was carried toward them.
Muriel gasped as she caught sight of him and of how he was bloodied and covered in deep wounds. His body was limp and the gashes and slashes all across his torso looked like some kind of beast had tried to tear him limb from limb. Blood dripped down onto the floor beneath him and his chest heaved as he tried to breathe.
“What happened here lad?” Muriel’s mother asked him, her face barely cracking with any kind of emotion.
Muriel covered her mouth as the putrid stench from the wounds was almost too much to bear.
“Wolves,” the peasant boy croaked, “They’re out there… and they’re coming for all of us.”
His hands trembled and with one last labored breath he breathed his last.
Muriel gasped and she covered her eyes. Her mother wrapped a protective arm around her and the crowd carried him away from the table and out into the corridor, out of sight.
“What’s happening mother?” Muriel whispered, “What is happening here at our Castle?”