Chapter 31
Aiden spent the next few months traveling from town to town, wondering through Scotland's valleys and highlands. He found it's rolling landscape to be nothing less than a masterpiece of divine art. He thought his people hardy and hard-working, but also with a strong propensity for drink. Those near the English border were somewhat familiar with the stories of the Urielin brotherhood. But the farther north Aiden traveled, the more unknown he became. However, he took the time to learn their stories. They seemed to be a simple people with ancient roots, their lives guided by folklore as well as a host of gods and spirits. And in spite of the church's attempts to anglicize them, a few people remained steadfast in their beliefs. But, the Scots also believed in witches and other such dark creatures and Aiden spent a great deal of time fighting them as well. There seemed to be something evil in every town, village, and settlement he visited. He would, on occasion, attempt to extricate this darkness with what he now thought the as the vengefulness of God, the divine glory he carried within him. But more often, he simply made short work of it, allowing his sword to swiftly carry out God's judgment, freeing the soul and damning its invader. And as the human host fell, the body sliding off his sword, those gathered around would loudly celebrate the elimination of what they believe to be evil incarnate. And Aiden would be celebrated as the stoic hero, carrying with him the authority and vengeance of God.
The biting chill of autumn was beginning to wrap its cold hand around northern Europe as Aiden ventured further into Scotland. Eventually, he settled into the western edge of the central highlands, just northwest of Glasgow. Soon, he would have to build shelter and prepare to settle in for what could be a long winter. Bad weather was not a stranger to him, having seen many years of heavy snows and howling winds. But, he had the luxury of living in the monastery, and even though there were many nights when the bitter winter wind would seep through the stone walls of his cell, he was still indoors, tucked away in his cot. Now, he would have to fend for himself, making sure his horse was fed as well.
Once again, Aiden retreated into the tree line. He used long branches and pine boughs to fashion a crude hut. When completed, he was surprised to find that not only was it strong and stable, but very effective at holding back the wind. He built his fire about five feet from its entrance in order to prevent it from igniting the hut. At night, he brought at least two rocks in from the fire and placed them in the center of the hut. Their heat would radiate outward, warming him throughout the cold early autumn nights. Aiden would certainly not freeze to death. His primary concern was now food. The Scottish Highlands produced an abundance of clean flowing water, that was easily accessible by only a short distance.
Only days later, Aiden found the Highlands to be abundant with food as well. Hare and other wild game seemed to be everywhere and could easily be had by means of simple traps. The meager rations of the monastery couldn't begin to compare with the feeling of a full stomach. Something Aiden now experienced daily. He was also able to keep his horse fed and watered as well. The Highlands produced wave after wave of lush green grass, allowing his horse to graze almost constantly. Even as he made camp, Aiden realized that soon, travel would not only be impossible but risky as well. He didn't believe that life was going to be easy. Death could come calling at any time. But, he did believe that he was prepared to endure what he knew would soon arrive.
Five days from the time he made camp, Aiden sat in his makeshift shelter. Water was fresh. Food was plentiful. Yet, on that day, he felt that something had changed, and was soon struck with the feeling that he was being watched. He stepped out of his hut and found himself face to face with four kilted Scotsman, each set tall on horseback. They bore, long hair and a sword girded to their hips. As Aiden stepped out of the trees, he did so with the assumption that these men were not to be trifled with. His mind briefly darted back to the pub in Whitby, when he brought down the drunken Scotsman who insisted on harassing him. Aiden was not yet aware that Scotland was divided into clans, groups of people living in one particular place under one name.
"We saw the smoke of your fire from the hill," one of them began.
He appeared to be someone who spoke for the group as the rest remained eerily silent.
"I am Kinaed of the MacGyver clan. Why do you hunt on our land?"
Aiden tried his best to hide his fear, but his slightly hesitant voice gave him away. "I am Aiden," he replied. "I travel doing God's work. I am a simple monk and I was not aware that this land was occupied. I will leave at once."
Kinaed glanced around at his fellow Scotsman, who seemed to nod in approval.
"Collect your possessions, monk," Kinaed said. "I think our leader may want a few words with you."
Aiden feared for his life as he briefly retreated to his shelter to collect what few possessions he had. But before stepping back out, he strapped his sword to his hip and hid his knife in his robe. Once outside again, he mounted his horse and riding next to Kinaed, went with them to their village.
The ride to their village was dominated by an unnerving silence. But, this provided Aiden with the opportunity to make a few observations. Among others, he noticed how haggard their faces were, giving him the impression that these were ancient people, likely under constant threat by time and the elements. Their faces also bore the scars of battle, a testament to their strength and their will to survive. And approaching their village, Aiden would get the chance to learn more.
As they neared the center of the village, they stopped at a large moss covered hut. Its walls had been built with stone, while its broad green roof gave it the appearance of having slipped into the landscape. But before the men could dismount their horses, a large broad man stepped out of the hut.
"What is this?" he asked.
Kinaed was quick to answer.
"We found him in the woods," he began. "It seems he has been growing fat on our game."
The broad man made a quick examination of Aiden, who still sat on his horse. He refused to speak unless absolutely necessary and remained as still as the dead.
"Is that so?" he said. "Let's have a look at you. Step down from your horse."
Aiden hesitated as a show of strength and an unwillingness to be submissive. He dismounted and stood in his horse's shoulder as the large Scotsman moved closer.
"What is your name, lad?" he asked. "Aiden," he replied.
The large man glanced at his comrades with a slight grin.
"Aiden, aye?" he said. "Sounds English." They chuckled briefly at Aiden's expense as the conversation took a less than friendly turn.
"What are you doing on our land?" he asked.
"Surviving," Aiden replied.
The Scotsman put his hands on his hips, giving thought to Aiden's brief response as well as the circumstances in which he was found.
"Why are you not in your monastery?" The answer to his question would be lengthy and somewhat complicated, but Aiden answered as briefly as possible. "My Abbot is dead. There was no more point in staying."
The Scotsman was left with the impression that there was much more to Aiden's response and planned on further discussion at another time. But for now, he would treat Aiden as an honored guest.
The Scotsman took a step back, effectively removing the element of intimidation from the conversation. He put a hand out and welcomed Aiden into his clan.
"We are the MacGyver clan," he began. "I am their chieftain, but my people call me Gus."
He waved off the men who discovered Aiden while continuing the conversation by putting a hand on his shoulder, directed him away from his hut.
"Come and meet my people,” he said. They walked down into the heart of the village as Aiden absorbed everything he saw. Outside of the drunken Scotsman he'd encountered in Whitby, Aiden knew nothing of the Scottish people. But, by the time they returned to the chieftain's hut, Aiden had learned several things about the clan. The MacGyver clan seemed to be hardy people. Strong, resilient and resourceful. But there was one thing that stood out, something that was different from all other people he had met. It was the odd way they kept their hair. Even their women appeared to bear a similar cut.
As the chieftain showed Aiden through the village, they passed a large heavy pole, partially buried in the ground. Around it, lay the scattered charred remains of what was once a raging fire, now cold and lifeless. Wrapped around it was a length of chain that held up a corpse. At one time alive, it now hung forward slightly, its flesh having been consumed by the flames that once roared beneath it. Aiden had never seen such a harrowing sight and his shocked expression was immediately noticed by the chieftain.
"Ah, yes," he began. "Evil has found its way into our lands as well. We leave this as a warning to whatever dark things that may come to inhabit or people. I... regret not having warned you of it."
Upon returning to the chieftain's hut, Aiden was invited in and offered a hot meal and an introduction to his wife and children. Like any husband and father, he brimmed with pride at the sight of his family. And with this, came the story of the MacGyver clan.
"Let me tell you of my people," he said. He'd wanted to learn more about the Scots and sat in rapt attention.
"We have always been a proud people, with strong hearts and bloody swords. We live with the Stewart clan to both our North and South, having fought them many times to keep our land. Now, we are allied with them, but only those to the north. Before that, we fought the church." Aiden suddenly felt uncomfortable, fearing he may be seen as a hostile representative, an enemy of their clan. The chieftain paused in the conversation. "Please forgive me. I bear no grudge to you, Aiden. It is the church I take issue with."
Aiden nodded patiently. "I understand," he replied. "The church is led by men and by their nature, they can often be misguided."
The chieftain was impressed by Aiden's statement and surprised at his apparent lack of absolute allegiance with the church.
"We, like other clans, once celebrated the old ways with our own spirits and stories. Then, they came to our land. The swept through the clans like a plague. Devils claiming to be men of God. Those who resisted them were slaughtered, their villages burned to the ground...in the name of God."
Aiden sat in shock. He had spent so many years locked away in the monastery that the real world simply did not exist for him. He had no idea that the church had ever gone to such lengths as to force people into the paths of godliness. And yet, he had brought others to their deaths for a fight that was not theirs.
Knowing this part of their history, Aiden would be very conscious of how his life had proceeded since leaving the monastery.
"So," the chieftain began. "What is it that brings a monk out of his monastery? You mentioned that your Abbot died. Was he stricken with something?"
The chieftain's question was designed to discover if Aiden had brought with him anything that might infect the clan. If so, he would be quick to protect his people by having Aiden dragged out of the village and slain. However, during the conversation, Aiden was finding out how perceptive the chieftain was. He seemed to ask all the right questions and greatly relied on reading body language. Aiden was accustomed to being in control and felt more than a bit intimidated by the chieftain's cunning method of inquiry. Aiden took a moment to consider the chieftain's question but didn't want to hesitate too long.
"He was," he replied. "I believe it may have been his mind. But, he was likely possessed."
The chieftain's curiosity piqued.
"I have some understanding of evil," he began. "God knows we have seen our share. But, how does one die of possession when the evil inside lives to cause harm and terror?"
Now, he realized that great intelligence was the principal quality of a great leader and the chieftain certainly seem to possess it. He felt cornered but the chieftain's pointed questions and was forced to explain what he'd hoped could be avoided.
"I do not mean to discuss such unpleasantness," he replied. "But when all reasonable means had been exhausted, I was forced to remove evil within him by ending his life."
The truth had been exposed, but there was still much that Aiden would not reveal. The chieftain did not seem disturbed or threatened by this revelation. In the theater of life, death often takes center stage.
"I can see how unpleasant this is for you," the chieftain said. "I have, myself, seen a great deal of battle and brought many men to the ground. The business of death is never profitable, is it?"
This question would infest Aiden's mind, brewing on the fires of his subconscious. Ever present; continually gnawing at him, begging for an answer that would only arrive with the asking of another question.
The chieftain, remembering where Aiden had spent the last few days, stood and directed him to his feet.
"Well," he began. "You must rest."
He directed a hand back toward the spacious hut.
"You will stay in the children's room." Aiden quickly rose to his feet.
"Oh," he began. "I couldn't possibly..."
"I will not turn away a man of God," the chieftain interrupted. "And I will not take no for an answer."
Out of respect for his hospitality, Aiden reluctantly accepted the chieftain's offer. But, as Aiden walked in front of him, the chieftain, making a quick examination, discovered that not only was he wearing sandals when winter was about to strike, but also noticed the dried blood that had gathered around the edge of his scabbard. As curious as the chieftain found this, he thought that perhaps there might be a more appropriate time to inquire about it. But, it would have to be done gracefully, without seeming to pry. The chieftain knew Aiden was holding back a great deal and that there would be an opportunity to learn more. An opportunity he would create.