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Maitiu' and Philip travel to the Isle of Skye in search of Katie's and Maureen's Clan. 

Philip looked up at Maitiu' from the floor.  "You must be daft! Go to Ireland again?  I've seen enough of that place, for now anyway.  I need to go to some place that is peaceful and familiar."

"Now that you've been to Ireland, if you go again, it will be familiar."

"Peaceful, familiar, and not full of Irishmen."

"All right then, I am leaving.  I've been called a 'maltworm', 'a timid mouse', and a 'bogtrotter'.  I have had enough abuse."

 

Akira, sitting nearby cleaning the pub glasses and overhearing the banter chimed in, "Don't go away mad Irishman, just go away."

 

As Maitiu' trudged away Katie came over and scolded Philip. 

"Get your arse off the floor! There goes a man who risked his life for you.  He can be a bit sensitive about trouble back in his homeland.  You owe him an apology."

"I'll get to it, I promise", said Philip as he slowly rose from the floor.  "I'll just let him cool off first."

"Darling, I, too, am worried about home.  I am receiving troubling news from Skye about my people," sighed Katie. 

 

For over 100 years there had been conflict between Clan Donald and Clan MacLeod over land, wealth, and power.  Skye was their battleground.  At one time Clan Donald held reign over the whole western seaboard of Scotland from Lewis in the north to the Mull of Kintyre in the south.  They even occupied the Glens of Antrim in Ulster province in Ireland.  They had many enemies wishing to knock them from such a lofty perch, chief among them was Clan MacLeod.  As Clan Donald's power was eroded MacLeod's demands were pressed.  There were tit for tat cattle raids, petty thefts, and even murder.  This story seemed all too familiar to Maitiu' when he later heard of it.  Ireland, too, suffered the curse of disunity and lack of national purpose.

 

Philip was of Clan MacAlisdair who were both kin and allies of Clan Donald.  As he had earned some notoriety for his poetry Katie hoped Philip could use his celebrity to diplomatic end.  Katie was sure Philip could help but she feared her husband's bold nature, pride, and audacity, if not tempered by caution and discretion, might lead to disaster.  Maitiu' was the remedy.  He was cautious, wary, and apt to use force only as a last resort. 

 

Therefore, Katie was not willing to wait for Maitiu' to "cool off".  After a discreet interval she left the pub to pursue her husband's Irish friend and convince him to accompany Philip to Skye.

Katie found Maitiu', by and by, at the dockside staring south toward Ireland.  As Katie approached she saw her husband's Papist friend fingering his Rosary beads.  Tears were streaming down his face.  Not wanting to disturb the man at his prayers she waited until he put his beads away and approached.

 

"My man holds you in high regard you know."

"Does he now?  Sure and it's not reflected in his words."

"I want him to go to Skye and visit my people.  The MacLeods and Clan Donald are at fighting one another.  Philip, being a known poet to both clans, might be able to help establish peace. I want you to go with him.  He needs you, you know."

 

"Are you sure about that?  I take my daughter on a pilgrimage and nearly get her killed.  You, yourself, almost became a widow.  He needs me indeed!"

"I am not a widow now, am I?  And you are the reason.  You two make a good pair.  Please go with him."

 

"How am I to finance this journey?  I have no money.  Our wee adventure in Ulster has nearly ruined me financially."

"Write to your Earl.  Skye has resources.  People there have been brewing and distilling on a small scale from time immemorial.  Your skill and resourcefulness could create a business opportunity for your Earl and Sir James Mossman."

 

"Katie, your idea has merit.  Of course, I will need help from your people. Who of the MacLeods would I speak to?"

" I will put you in touch with my own first cousin, Andrew.  He is always looking for a way to generate revenue."

" He is a true Scot, no doubt!"

 

Four weeks from when the letter was sent Maitiu' received correspondence from Sir John of Desmond.  Sir John wrote that the Earl was willing to finance the trip to Skye to "see if an opportunity exists."  Maitiu' reported the news to Philip and Katie, who were both delighted.  Philip was inspired by the news -

 

As I fell ta tha' floor,
    Mistress Kate didst appear –
"I'll show ye tha door,
    Fer ye no more beer."
 
Miss Maureen o' MacLeod,
    Didst say wit' a smile -
"Ye be somewhat loud,
     Get thee ta tha Isle."
 
"Go now wit' yer brother,
    He o' Irish renown -
Do not give me bother,
    Travel safe and most sound."
 
"Ta the Isle o' Skye,
    Away with ye both -
Be gone from mi eye,
    Ta tha land o' mi troth."
 
Through tha lands o' MacPhearson,
    An' o'er tha dale -
Ta the home o' mi son's son,
    Were he brews much good ale.
 
Maitiu fingered `is chin,
    There `twas gold in `is eye -
He covered his grin,
    An' we set off ta Skye….

 

Before Philip and Maitiu' departed three people approached Maitiu' with confidential requests.  Katie wanted Maitiu' to speak to her cousins about Maureen.  Maureen appeared one day at the tavern knowing little about her background but that she was a MacLeod.  Katie, so homesick for the Misty Isle, wanted very much to believe her and treated her as beloved family.  Katie was discreetly asking for verification.

 

Heber approached Maitiu' on the eve of his trip to ask a favor.  "Boyo, you are a bogtrotter to be sure but I also know you to be a devout Papist, I mean Catholic gentleman.  I have consummate trust in your integrity."

 

"What is it you want, a chara?" asked myself.

"Please take this letter and sum of money to my mother at Cluny Castle."

"Heber, we are going to Skye and the MacPhearsons holdings on the River Spey are not exactly on our way."

"Some of the money is for your expenses and I give you our clan badge to show when it is needed.  One last thing, say nothing to Elena about this.  She must know nothing about the money or letter."

"I promise to say nothing."

 

Later Elena approached Maitiu'.  Maitiu', being determined not to betray a confidence listened to her request.  "My brother tells me you are going to Badenoch before visiting Skye."

"Tis somewhat out of our way but anything for the husband of Fionnula."

"Please, then, take this letter and money to my mother.  Say nothing about this to Heber.  He must not know."

 Maitiu' was honored to be so trusted by both MacPhearsons and wondered about the family intrigue.  He remembered Ignatius Loyola saying virtue was a gift.  Why did it feel like a burden.

 

Philip was smiling from ear to ear as it was now his turn to show his country to the Irishman.  The detour to MacPhearsons’ lands was blessed and without incident.  Maitiu' had convinced Philip to keep a low profile so he could enjoy the stark beauty of the vast mountains, broad glens, and pristine lakes.  Maitiu' was gobsmacked.

 

"Philip, we have money enough to secure humble lodging and not draw attention to ourselves.  You must do most of the talking as my accent will be sure to draw suspicion on me."

"Fear not, my timid Irish mouse.  I will proceed as you wish."

 

Maitiu' once read a Spanish ambassador's description of the Scottish Highlanders:

 

"They spend all their time in wars and when there is no war they fight one another."

 

Maitiu' did not know the relationships between all of the factions in the Hei’lunds.  Alliances shifted as quickly as the wind.  There were MacKenzies, MacLeans, Stuarts, and MacIntyres.  And there were Campbells.  Many, many, Campbells.  Campbells elicited caution in both Philip and Maitiu'.  They were certain no Campbell could be trusted.

 

Arriving in the district of Badenoch on Spey, MacPhearson's country, Maitiu' discreetly displayed the clan badge Heber gave him. "Touch not the Cat bot a Glove".  Despite his foreign accent he was received as a brother and along with Philip was invited to Cluny Castle.  That evening Philip's poetry was unleashed on the MacPhearsons. 

 

I entered a tavern,

        One fyne springtime da-

I have not come out,

        Heber holds me at bay.

 

We have a fyne Chieftain,

        Heber now be ‘is name-

He be fair to all,

        As long as he gains.

 

Ah, this is all fun,

        And lead no one astray-

It shows us our mix,

        On this fyne spring tyme da’.

 

His praise poetry was gladly received.  His satire poems were stifled by a wary "Irish mouse.”

 

"Philip, no Argyle satire, please!"

 

At the appropriate time Maitiu' was introduced to Heber and Elena's mother.  She was an elegant and dignified woman with a kind face.  Maitiu' imagined she must have broken many a heart in her youth.

"My dear lady, I apologize for my accent.  Can you understand me?"

 

 

"You accent is no obstacle.  It reminds me of a special young man I met years ago before I married Heber and Elena's father."  The Lady MacPhearson has a faint smile and a far away look in her eye as she remembered her "special young man".

"It sounds as if he was Irish.  Do you remember his name?  Do you remember from where he came?  I might know the place."

 

 

With her smile now broadening she remembered.  "His name was Cathal MaCasey.  He was from Carlow in Leinster.  He was recruiting gallowglass for some Irish lord."

"That would be my uncle Chick!  Saints be praised, I never knew he came up this far."

To himself Maitiu' thought "Wait until Heber and Elena hear about this!"  "I have correspondence from your children, my Lady.  I was given strict orders from both not to reveal to the other that this was done."

"Did you read the letters?"

"Oro ni'l, I mean no my Lady.  I know not the content of the letters nor the amount of funds being delivered.  It would relieve me of a great burden if you would take them from me and say nothing to me about it."

 

She left the room to read the letters and count the sums.  After a while she returned and embraced Maitiu' as one might embrace their own child.

 

"Your family has been a blessing to me, Maitiu' MacRoibeard de Faoite, nephew of my dear Cathal.  Is he still serving that Irish lord?  Do you see him ever?  I have a message for him."

"Lady MacPhearson, tonight, when in your prayers, you may speak to him.  He is now in the service of the Lord of Hosts."  There was a hint of a tear in her eye when she heard this.  She sent for and served pints of ale to Philip and Maitiu' and began to tell stories of Heber and Elena when they were children.  The stories would certainly be repeated later in the Wycked Aye to embarrass and tease their protagonists.

 

Once outside of MacPhearson's country Maitiu' and Philip resumed their low profile.  It was on to Skye.

 

We traveled tha shires,
    One fyne sprin'tyme da –
Mountains an' spires,
    Got not in our wa'.

Ta the Isles we didst roam,
    Tha fyne sprin'tyme da –
O'er tha land we didst comb,
    Fer gold an' fer prey.

We had gone from tha ale house,
    Fer many a da –
Me an' a bog mouse,
    Naught holds us at bay.

Tha Isle o' Skye,
    Be most wondrous an' rare –
A jewel ta mi eye,
    Aye, we finally got there….

Tha home o' MacLeod,
    An Maureen an' mi Kate –
Our well come was loud,
    As we strode though tha gate!

 

As mentioned before, the blood feud between the MacLeods and the MacDonalds reached back 100 years to John, Lord of the Isles, of Clan Donald.  In those days the Kings of Scotland and England and the Lord of the Isles engaged in political maneuvers.  In 1462 John signed a treaty with Edward IV of England.  This was to have caused John to lose or forfeit estates in Scotland.  James III of Scotland formally restored the Lordship back to John in hopes of winning him back and making him a Lord of Parliament.  "John was peacefully inclined and might have given no further trouble but his bastard, Angus Og, who had married Argyle's daughter, took a different view and declared war on both James III and his father John, thus splitting the western Hei’lunds in two, and, incidentally, starting a prolonged feud between the MacDonalds on one hand and the MacLeods and MacKenzies on the other".

 

When told to Maitiu's Irish ears the thread of Saxon perfidy and Campbell complicity was clearly heard. 

"Philip, Katie has given you an impossible task.  No poetry, diplomacy, or business endeavor will easily reverse 100 years of hard feelings."

"Have you no confidence in me?  I will bring peace with heartfelt verse of praise.  I will emphasize our shared heritage and appeal to our Scottish patriotism.  They will be arm in arm when I am done."

 

Philip was expected and well received upon arriving at Dunvegan Castle.  As his patrons flocked to him Maitiu' was introduced to Katie's cousin Andrew MacCuaig to discuss business.  Andrew and Maitiu' struck an immediate friendship.  In their conversation they discussed Philip's optimism and potential business opportunities.  While Maitiu' enjoyed the company he was discouraged about what he heard.

 

"Maitiu', your idea of a brewery will sound grand to all who initially hear it.  We have many thirsty mouths on the Island.  Many of the lads have served as gallowglass in Ireland and have grown fond of the fine ale and whiskey of your home.  The love of spirits might even bring  the MacDonalds and MacLeods together  better than any MacAlisdair poetry.  But every chief, near and far, will want to have his hand in the profits.  We barely grow enough grain to feed ourselves.  There is little surplus for brewing in a size that would be profitable.  Hops would be difficult to import and the levies and taxes would be too heavy and the supply would be too  unreliable.  No, Maitiu', tell your Earl it will not be possible to establish a large enough enterprise to be profitable."

 

"Do you think Philip has a chance with peace?"

"We will see.  I have invited, under truce, a party of the leading MacDonalds to hear the poetry and drink some of your fine Irish ale and whiskey.  MacAlisdair has made quite a name for himself."

 

"Andrew, Katie has met a lass who claims to be a MacLeod.  She wanted me to ask about her.  Could you help?"

"There are quite a number of us in Clan MacLeod, Maitiu'.  What is her name?"

 

"Maureen MacLeod".

 

"Maureen, is it?  That is a name from your part of the world.  Let me see what I can find out."

 

The next day, as preparations were being made to welcome the MacDonalds, Andrew reported to Maitiu' what he had learned.

"Some of the old women seem to remember a galloglass named Robert MacLeod who had married a local girl, a MacCrimmon, I believe.  They gave their girl child an Irish name.  It is heard he took his wife, Maire MacCrimmon, and their girl child Maureen, on a campaign.  He went to the Scottish borders rather than Ireland under Shane O'Neill.  They were never heard from again and presumed to be lost.  Tell my cousin Katie I am sorry but that is all I know."

 

The famous fairy flag was flying over Dunvegan castle as the banquet was slowly filled to capacity.  There were two tables of MacDonalds there.  They were as nervous as whores in church.  The MacLeods sitting near them, while more relaxed, seemed somewhat on guard themselves. Seeing this Maitiu' was thinking of his old friend and best customer, Hugh O'Donnell, and how Hugh would be planning an escape route anticipating how the evening would probably end.

 

Philip was also anxious and was not quite ready to perform.  Some fiddle players played a rousing tune.  Philip insisted Maitiu' tell a story while he continued to compose himself.  Maitiu' told the tale of "Deirdre of the Sorrows" and how she caused the downfall of the Red Branch Knights.  Despite his Irish accent he was mostly understood and politely received but his story was not of Philip's liking.

 

"Great Maitiu', a  cheery Irish tale to clam everyone," Philip said sarcastically. 

 

Fearing the worst Philip began his praise poems recalling the founding of Clan MacLeod by Leod, a son of Olav the Black, King of Man and the Isles.  he told the MacDonalds of Conn of the Hundred Battles, High King of Ireland and Colla Uais, the first of his descendants to venture into the Hebrides.  He told of the Lordship of the Isles and how the MacLeods once supported John, Lord of the Isles.  As promised the poems and then the songs that arose spontaneously from the patrons, lubricated by fine Irish ale and whiskey as well as local brew, had all the Scots arm in arm, MacLeod and MacDonald, singing and laughing.

 

Philip had pulled it off.  This could be a miracle.  Then it happened.  Someone called for a satire.  Philip's eyes lit up and he began to recite his favorite.

"Philip, not the Argyle satire, please!"

 

Too late, it flowed from his mouth like a mountain stream.  The MacDonalds crowed with derisive laughter and most of the MacLeods glowered.  Many were friends and even relatives of Archibald Campbell.  First words were exchanged, then voices raised, and then fists were flying. 

Andrew, Katie's cousin, yelled to Maitiu', "Get my cousin's husband out of here."

 

Darting and dashing through the brawl Maitiu' rushed the dais and tackled Philip like in the old days when he played Gaelic football.  "Philip, flee, anois!"

 

As they ran out the side door of the banquet hall Maitiu' thought of how Philip called him a timid Irish mouse.  There were two fellows fighting in the hallway that led to the side door.  Doubling up his fist Maitiu' popped a MacLeod across the gob and sent him sprawling across the floor. 

The MacDonald began to say, "Thanks Paddy", when he received the same treatment.  "You are all blagards" ranted Maitiu' as he took Philip by the arm. 

 

Andrew found Philip and Maitiu' just outside the castle grounds.

"There'll be hell to pay now.  The whole island will be in an uproar.  You're on your own lads.  God be with you."

Philip thought their best chance was to reach a fishing village before the word spread.  Their salvation came from an unlikely place.

 

When John Knox instigated reform in the Church the active clergy who were not willing to embrace Calvinism were given the choice to retire and accept a pension or die -  so there were many retired clergy living off a pension keeping their Papist beliefs to themselves.  One such man lived on Skye, by the name of Duncan Campbell.  Campbell ran a boat service from Skye to South Uist to supplement his pension and smuggle his co-religionists to a more friendly place.  He encountered Philip and Maitiu' on a footpath outside the small fishing village where he kept his boat.  Philip was asleep while Maitiu' kept watch.  Maitiu' took the time on watch to pray his Rosary.  Campbell observed this. 

 

"What have we here?  An Irish Papist by the sound of your voice and your manner of prayer.  How exotic!"

"Who might you be, you wee sly man, sneaking up on a poor soul at prayer?"

"I am Duncan Campbell and I run a boat from here to South Uist for those who have the money for it.  It appears you might be wanting to leave the Misty Isle with the recent uproar."

 

"Trust a Campbell.  One must be very desperate to do that!"

"That would be Father Campbell to you, my son." 

Duncan explained his situation and Maitiu' remarked, "A Catholic Campbell, that too seems exotic."

 

From South Uist Maitiu' and Philip were able to secure passage back to the safety of the Wycked Aye.  Maitiu' gave his reports to Elena, Heber, and Katie.  Philip now thought himself a great storyteller and proceeded to give his version of our latest adventure to Faolan and Morna -

 

We’ve traveled together,

    Both near an’ both far -

Bog mouse an’ I,

    Steered by a star.

 

Through tha Isle o’ Emerald,

    An tha nor’ shore o’ Scotland -

We fought through ta gether,

    Ta Katie’s own ‘omeland.

 

 

I’ve opened mi mouth,

    An’ spewed out most shite -

‘Twere luck tha we lived,

    An’ not wits nor our might.

 

Tha Wycked Aye Tavern,

    We doest call our ‘ome -

Though oft’ doest we wander,

    An’ much doest we roam.

 

This man be mi broth’r,

    As we move all around -

He watches mi back,

    An’ ‘olds fast ‘is ground.

 

Squire Malt Worm, Bog Trotter,

    An worse were thee called –

Off wi’ their ‘eads,

    Wilst I ‘old them enthralled.

 

Here our gold we doest squander,

    An’ plunder tha night -

Maitiu’ -  Heaven help us,

    There be Campbells in sight!

 

 

 

 Maitiu' sat in a quiet corner with parchment and quill and wrote these words to Sir John of Desmond:

 

To Sir John of Desmond;

 

Greetings from your agent in Scotland, Maitiu' MacRoibeard de Faoite.  We thought there existed an opportunity to establish an enterprise on the Ise of Skye.  Further investigation reveals no profitable situation exists.  The Scots are as divided and unstable as any Irish province.  The shipping costs and the tenuous supply line outstrips any amount of revenue we might earn.  Please send my regrets to our Lord Earl.  I have failed again but with his indulgence I will continue to serve at his pleasure with my fullest efforts.

 

Gach Beannacht,

 

M. de Faoite. 

 

 


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