Claymore and Kilt: Tales of Scottish Kings and Castles

by Sorche Nic Leodhas

Overview

Eleven tales explore the early history of Scotland's constant struggle for freedom from the English
Scottish history is full of tales of blood and sacrifice, great heroes and fierce warriors, and above all, the constant battle between the Scots and the Brits for Scotland's independence. For hundreds of years, Scotland and England teetered between war, peace, and unity, and being Scottish royalty could bring as much danger as it could power and riches.
The legendary stories included in Claymore and Kilt follow the rise and fall of the great Scottish kings of old. With tales including those of the sons of Cathmor, who vowed to avenge their father's murder, the strange riddle that saved a lord's life, and the king who loved only one thing more than his beautiful dog, this collection gives a voice to the complicated history of Scottish kings and castles.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781497640139
Publisher:	Open Road Media Teen & Tween
Publication date:	08/19/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	140
File size:	1 MB
Age Range:	8 - 12 Years

About the Author

Sorche Nic Leodhas (1898–1969) was born LeClaire Louise Gowans in Youngstown, Ohio. After the death of her first husband, she moved to New York and attended classes at Columbia University. Several years later, she met her second husband and became LeClaire Gowans Alger. She was a longtime librarian at the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where she also wrote children's books. Shortly before she retired in 1966, she began publishing Scottish folktales and other stories under the pseudonym Sorche Nic Leodhas, Gaelic for Claire, daughter of Louis. In 1963, she received a Newbery Honor for Thistle and Thyme: Tales and Legends from Scotland. Alger continued to write and publish books until her death 1969. 
Claire, daughter of Louis. In 1963, she received a Newbery Honor for  Thistle and Thyme: Tales and Legends from Scotland. Alger continued to write and publish books until her death 1969. 

Read an Excerpt

Claymore and Kilt

Tales of Scottish Kings and Castles

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By Sorche Nic Leodhas

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 1967 Leclaire G. Alger
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-4013-9

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CHAPTER 1

THE TALE OF THE SONS OF CATHMOR

King Fingal 211 A.D.

Long ago in Scotland in the days of the great Fingal there were two chiefs who dwelt between the walls built by the Romans. Cathmor was one of these chiefs and his domain lay westward along the banks of the river Clutha. Renowned among the kings of Scotland for his justice and wisdom, Cathmor ruled his people with kindness and they lived in peace, tilling the soil, tending their herds, and trading honestly with any strangers who came among them. By these means the country of Cathmor prospered and the people were happy in it.

Dunthelm, the second chief, was an evil man whose wickedness knew no bounds. Toward the east coast by the river Tuatha he built himself a fortress, and the town which straggled about it, in which his people dwelt, was poor and ill kept. They had neither crops nor herds, but lived partly by hunting and fishing and, for the rest, by raiding and robbing those who were weaker than themselves.

Day after day Dunthelm sat in his stronghold brooding blackly over the good fame and the wealth of Cathmor, until his heart was so filled with envy and hatred that he could bear it no longer. He leaped up then and calling his warriors about him he led them in a swift and sudden raid against the land of Cathmor. The people of Cathmor had no knowledge of the arts of war and fell an easy prey to the warlike men of Dunthelm. They made a brave attempt to defend their lord and themselves but were soon defeated, and in the battle the gentle Cathmor himself was slain.

To make his victory complete Dunthelm ordered that when the treasures had been removed, all the town and the land, and the people who had not been slain in the battle, should be put to the fire and the sword.

One of Dunthelm's men, more interested in plunder than in slaughter, left his companions and searched among the storehouses for anything of value that might have been overlooked, hoping to find some treasure to which he might lay claim. In a dark corner of one of the buildings he found the two young sons of the slain chief, clasped in each other's arms. Terrified by the horrors they had witnessed, they stood helpless, hiding their eyes and weeping bitterly.

Perhaps the robber was moved to pity because they were young and of amazing beauty. Perhaps he thought they might be useful to him to help him carry his load. Whatever his reason for sparing them may have been he did not trouble himself to say. He loaded them with the bundles of loot he had gathered and drove them along to Tuatha before him like a pair of young lambs. There he left them to grow up among the children of the town, and nobody bothered to ask who they were and nobody cared in the least.

Thus Calum and Colman, the sons of Cathmor, grew up and came to manhood among the enemies of their father, and the spirit of their father lived in them so that in this evil place they were not touched by the wickedness they saw each day. They grew tall and straight and strong and became so skillful in the hunt that no other duties were laid upon them. Dunthelm chose them to be his chief huntsmen, and they never were asked to join the warriors in their raids.

But the peaceful land of Clutha was not forgotten by the sons of Cathmor. Their hearts turned often to the happy days of their childhood and they longed to see their own country once more. They dared not ask Dunthelm for permission to go, knowing only too well that he would have their lives if he learned that they were Cathmor's sons.

One day while the hunters were pursuing a stag they went westward farther from Dunthelm's fortess than they had ever gone before. They found themselves on the bank of the Clutha river and the brothers knew that they were not far from their former home.

The young huntsmen found a pretext to send their companions back to Tuatha while they themselves went on along the river until they came to the place where Cathmor's town once lay. When they saw the ruins of the once proud hall of their father and the lonely and desolate fields that had once been fruitful, now given over to thistle and bracken and peopled only by the fox and the owl, Calum and Colman wept for grief. Calling upon the spirit of their murdered father to witness their words they swore that while they had breath and blood in their bodies, the wrong done to Cathmor and his people by Dunthelm would not be forgotten nor left unavenged.

Among the huntsmen there was one Carach, a sly and sullen man, who resented the honor Dunthelm had given the brothers. He felt that the place of chief huntsman was his by right, and for a long time he had spied upon Calum and Colman, hoping to catch them in some act which would bring Dunthelm's wrath against them and win approval for himself.

When the other hunters turned back toward Tuatha as they were bidden, Carach did not go with them but secretly followed after Calum and Colman instead. Safely hidden in the upspringing brush he listened to everything the brothers said, then satisfied that he had in his possession the weapon which would cause their downfall he slipped off noiselessly, and with great speed made his way to tell Dunthelm what he had heard.

When Carach told Dunthelm that his two chief huntsmen were the sons of Cathmor and that they were planing to avenge their father's death, Dunthelm's fury was like that of a madman. He swelled with rage and his face grew purple and he roared like a wounded wild boar. He dashed to the floor the flagon from which he had been drinking, and knocking everyone and everything within reach out of his way, he strode out of his hall. As he stood for a moment at the top of the steps that led to the courtyard below, Carach imprudently attempted to gain the furious chief's attention. Perhaps he hoped to win a word of approval for the service he had done. But he had chosen the wrong moment. Dunthelm, with a sweep of his arm, brushed Carach out of his way with such force that the spy tumbled head over heels down the steps to the hard-packed earth of the yard below, and there he lay. All the reward that Carach won for bringing his news to Dunthelm was a broken neck!

At that moment, Calum and Colman returned. Without delay the brothers were seized at Dunthelm's orders, and securely bound. Calum was placed in a cave by the shore to be drowned by the rising tide, and Colman was lowered into a pit near the wall of the fortress and left there to die of hunger and thirst.

Dunthelm's only child, a daughter named Thalmar, had grown up neglected and uncared for, despised by her father because she was a girl. Her heart had long since turned from her father because of his evil ways. Then, too, she blamed Dunthelm for the death of her mother who had been treated with such cruelty by the chief, because she had borne him no sons, that at last the poor lady sickened and died.

Calum and Colman had won Thalmar's liking by their kindness and courtesy. Both qualities were rare among the other men of Dunthelm's stronghold. Now she determined to help them as much as she could to escape the fate to which her father had doomed them.

In the late hours of the night when all in the castle were sleeping and even the guards dozed at their posts, she crept soundlessly to the armorer's room and searched there until she found armor that she was able to wear. She clad herself in the battle dress of a young knight who was nearest in size to herself, and twisting her long hair firmly on top of her head, drew a helmet over it to hide it out of sight. Sword and spear and shield were too heavy for her to carry so she left them behind and took for weapon only a dirk which she stuck through her belt.

She slipped out of the fortress by a small postern door where one guard slept noisily and did not waken as she passed by. She picked her way in the darkness down the path from the gate through brush and bracken, until she reached the shore. Then with the fortress far enough behind her that she had no fear of being heard, she went quickly along the sands until she came to the cave where Calum lay helpless, waiting for death.

Thalmar knelt beside him and cut the ropes which bound him, then helped him to his feet and out of the cave which had so nearly been his tomb.

Calum recognized the armor which Thalmar wore, but not knowing it was not worn by its owner, called her by the young knight's name and thanked her for coming to his aid.

"If it were not for you, O Dionach," he said gratefully, "this night most certainly would have been my last."

And Thalmar, her identity safely hidden by helmet and armor, accepted the name of Dionach which Calum mistakenly bestowed upon her and let him believe her to be the young warrior whose armor she wore.

Calum's first thought was for his brother and he would have rushed to his aid at once had the young knight not held him back. She reminded him that four warriors kept watch in the courtyard through the hours of the night, two waking while the others slept. The pit where Colman lay could be reached only by passing the guards, and how could they, being only two and unarmed, hope to overcome four armed men, since the two who slept would certainly be awakened at their approach? What help would it be to Colman if his rescuers died in their attempt to save him?

Calum weighed in his mind the words of the young knight, and found them heavy with wisdom. In despair and sorrow, he cast himself down upon the sands to lament his helplessness. Then the young knight said to Calum, "Come! Waste not your time in grieving. Let us go to King Fingal and entreat him to help us free your brother. I know the way to Morven, the kingdom of Fingal. I will go with you and be your guide."

So they set out together, halting their journey only for such sleep as they needed and for such food as they could find on their way.

When they came to Morven they found King Fingal in his castle at Selma, sitting in his chair of state among his chiefs. Fingal called them to him, bidding them welcome if they came in peace, and asked them who they were, and whence and for what purpose they had come.

Calum answered that he was a son of Cathmor of the Clutha and his companion was his friend Dionach, to whom he owed his life. They had come from the Tuatha to ask Fingal's help against Dunthelm, the chief.

"Son of Cathmor?" said Fingal. "They told me that Cathmor and all his family and his people perished years ago in a battle with the warriors of the Tuatha."

"Cathmor and his people were slain," said Calum, "but not in battle. They were attacked without warning and unarmed when Dunthelm and his men came down upon them suddenly. But Cathmor's sons still live. I am Calum, the younger, and my brother Colman is being held prisoner by Dunthelm. It is for my brother's sake I ask your aid."

"Calum, Son of Cathmor," said Fingal. "Lay your grievance against Dunthelm, the chief of the Tuatha, before us that we may judge if thy complaint be just."

Thus at Fingal's bidding Calum and Dionach made their accusations against Dunthelm and to every offense laid at his door by Calum, Dionach added another, until the chiefs of Morven marvelled that one man alone could bear such a load of iniquity.

They spoke, but Fingal heard them without breaking his own silence. He made no comment and he asked no question, as the tale unfolded. Only by narrowed eyes and the set, grim lines of his face did he show his increasing wrath. But the silent anger of Fingal was more terrible to behold than would have been the unleashed fury of a lesser man.

When the accusers of Dunthelm were silent at last, Fingal rose from his chair. Standing to give judgment he spoke of the ancient friendship between the fathers of Fingal and Cathmor. The arms of each had hung through generations upon the walls of the other, and their children had been exchanged in fosterage. When word of the death of Cathmor had been brought to Fingal he had mourned for him as he would have mourned for a brother. Not until this day had he known that Cathmor was slain, not in battle, but by Dunthelm's treachery. From time to time Fingal had heard of the misdeeds of the chief of the Tuatha but he had not learned the full extent of his wrongdoing before. It had been in his mind of late, however, that the time was approaching when Dunthelm must be called to account for his actions. Now, Fingal said sternly, the time had come. It should be attended to.

Then, to avenge the death of Cathmor and for the sake of the sons of Cathmor, Fingal called up his mightiest warriors. He arrayed them in shining armor and armed them with shields and spears in their hands, and broad swords and dirks at their sides. He divided them among the chiefs of Morven, one hundred warriors to each chief, and sent them against Dunthelm.

So they marched, a terrible army, across the land, turning neither to left or right, nor staying on their way until they came to the shore of the Tuatha and saw on the other side the stronghold of Dunthelm with the evening mists from the river just beginning to settle down upon it.

When he heard the noise of Fingal's army as it approached the opposite shore, Dunthelm brought his men out and drew them up on the plain before the fortress to face the warriors on the other side of the river.

Then the bards, as was their custom, advanced from the line of the army of Fingal and went down to the river. Standing at the edge of its waters they shouted out the challenge to the chief of the Tuatha across its flowing tide.

"Hear and heed, O Dunthelm!" cried the bards.

"Hear and heed, O Dunthelm!"

"Hear and heed, O Dunthelm!"

"Deliver Colman, the son of Cathmor, to Fingal of Morven, or prepare to perish at the hands of the warriors of Fingal the Mighty!"

Three times the bards repeated the challenge, and their voices rang loudly across Tuatha's stream. Then they turned and rejoined the army to await the answer of Dunthelm.

Dunthelm's answer came swiftly. Driven mad by rage, he ordered two of his men to raise Colman from the pit and bring him to the bank of the river. There Dunthelm slew Colman with his own spear before the eyes of his brother Calum and all the army of Fingal on the opposite shore.

Calum, seeing Colman fall and his life blood pouring out to stain the sands upon which he lay, rushed forward. Plunging into the river he crossed it swiftly and hurled himself upon Dunthelm. With a mighty shout the warriors of Fingal pressed close behind him, and thus the battle began.

Swords flashed, spears leaped to their marks, shields clanged under the blows that rained upon them. Dunthelm attempting to defend himself from the furious attack of Calum, found that he was no match for the younger man, whose strength had grown sevenfold through his determination to avenge, once and for all, the deaths of his father and his brother, or to perish himself in the attempt.

The cowardly Dunthelm, unused to standing against an opponent who was not weaker than himself, sought safety in flight but Calum pursued him and despatched him with one last thrust of his sword.

Dunthelm's men knew they were outnumbered and when they saw their chief fall they gave way and attempted to retreat to the fortress. But they soon found they were cut off from that refuge for the men of Fingal had contrived to surround them on all sides.

When the battle was over and Fingal's warriors entered Dunthelm's stronghold to make certain that no stragglers were hidden there, it lay silent and empty. The chief of Tuatha with all his men lay dead on the river's shore.

There was not a living soul left in the fortress or in the town, for the women had taken the children and fled, when the battle began, to hide in the woods and the caves. No one sought to find them or harm them. Fingal's men, unlike Dunthelm and his warriors, did not make war on the weak.

By the time the battle ended, night had fallen. The men of Fingal made for themselves a mighty torch. They laid fire to the fortress and by the light of the flames they tended their wounded and gathered their dead, waiting until the daybreak to return to Morven again.

At dawn, they took the body of Colman and those of their companions who had not survived the battle and crossed the Tuatha to start their journey home.

There they found the young knight called Dionach who had come to Fingal with Calum. Now they discovered that he alone of all the warriors had not crossed the Tuatha, but had watched the battle from the safer side. They found Dionach wandering up and down, dragging behind him a spear which had been discarded for the sword by one of Fingal's men when the battle began.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Claymore and Kilt by Sorche Nic Leodhas. Copyright © 1967 Leclaire G. Alger. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

INTRODUCTION,
THE TALE OF THE SONS OF CATHMOR,
THE TALE OF COLUMBA AND THE ANGEL,
THE TALE OF THE ROYAL EXILES,
THE TALE OF THE RIDDLE SENT TO BRUCE,
THE TALE OF THE WRATH OF GOD,
THE TALE OF A DEBT REPAID,
THE TALE OF THE LADY OF THE ROCK,
THE TALE OF THE GABERLUNZIE MAN,
THE TALE OF THE LAIRD OF LOGIE,
THE TALE OF THE RESCUE OF KINMONT WULLIE,
THE TALE OF THE KING'S JEWEL,
About the Author,