The Thistle and the Rose(56)

“Good people of the Campbell clan,” Colin proclaimed loudly, holding Celia's hand tightly. “I give you...Lady Campbell.”

The tumultuous shouts and cheers that followed overwhelmed Celia, and her tears were streaming down her cheeks as Colin swept her up in his arms and kissed her before the entire village. From the ships in the harbor, cannons fired an ongoing salute to the delight of the crowd, and Celia felt as if she were walking on a cloud as they began their procession back up through village festivities to the Castle looming benevolently above.



The wedding dinner in the Great Hall was a sumptuous feast accompanied by dancers, musicians, and minstrels. Colin and Celia were inseparable, in spite of all efforts to include them in the ongoing entertainment. Colin held her hand tightly and glared menacingly at any who approached to kiss the bride with anything but the most respectful attitude. And he was particularly threatening when Alec Macpherson took momentary possession of Celia's hand.

“Celia,” Alec said in a confidential tone, ignoring Colin's ominous presence. “I was just having an interesting conversation with the Archbishop about annulments.”

“Macpherson...” Colin growled over Celia's laughter.

“Everyone! Please come into the South Hall!” Dunbar called out. “We have a wee bit of entertainment for you.”

The priest looked over at Alec and Colin, each holding one of Celia's hands, and shook his head questioningly. “Lord and Lady Campbell? Would you and Lord Alec care to join us?”

Without any attempt to hide the action Colin detached Alec's hand from Celia's and put himself between the two as they started for the South Hall entrance.

Everyone filed through the double doors and took places along the wall beneath the windows as Runt disappeared through the entrance and returned in a moment, giving Father William a nod. All was ready.

“Lord Colin, if you would be so kind as to play the part of the Lover,” the poet priest requested, beckoning Colin to a place a bit more than halfway down the hall from the entrance. Colin stood undecided for a long moment, to the obvious enjoyment of those looking on.

“And if I could borrow your lovely bride, just for a short while, to play the part of the Lady Beloved,” Dunbar continued.

Runt took Celia's arm, and Colin stopped him with a look. “If anything happens to her, Runt...” the giant warned.

“It's a happy ending, Lord Colin.” Runt smiled weakly. “I will not take my eyes off her.”

With a grunt of grudging resignation, Colin let go of her hand, and Runt led her from the hall.

“Lord Hugh, Lady Agnes, Lord Alec?” Father William continued. “If you would kindly accompany the exquisite Lady Campbell...or rather, the Lady Beloved...to your preordained position.”

As Celia passed Colin, her smile was enough to warm the entire hall, and everyone in attendance felt it—but none more than the bridegroom. Colin found himself wishing this day to be over, and all the guests either gone or safely tucked in, especially Alec. As his eyes followed the beauty...the Beloved...through the entrance, Colin found himself wishing...

“Ladies, lords, gentlefolk of the Campbell lands!” Dunbar called out from his place at the center of the hall, drawing the guests’ attention. “This evening, through the gracious generosity of Lord Hugh Campbell, to help celebrate the union   of two loved ones, we present to you a masque, a pageant, a play.”

Father William paused for effect, then swept his arms like a magician conjuring up a new world, a world of imagination. The guests were so quiet that the only sound was the crackle of the fires in the great hearths. Then the music of lyres, oboes, and trumpets floated harmoniously in the air.



“Just as the star of day began to shine,” the poet began, taking Colin's hand and leading him in a small circle and ending where he began. “The Lover rose up and by a rosebush sat down to rest, for no sleep had he for many days or nights.

“When up sprang the golden candle of Dawn, with clear, crystalline beams of light. And before Phoebus had risen and shed his cloak of purple, the lark, heaven's minstrel, in joy called out to the Morn.

“Then, angel-like, the birds sang in the green, green bowers, and the fields were a blanket of colors. Enameled with dew, the meadow gleamed red and white with the May flowers so bright and new. The sun shone on the young rosebuds, the dewdrops burning like ruby sparks. And the birds skipped in the branches in the glory of the spring.”

Dunbar took a few steps toward the entrance and turned once again to face the enraptured guests.

“Beside the spot where the Lover lay,” he proclaimed, gesturing with his hand toward the entrance end of the hall. “A blue and glittering loch washed the green banks of the meadow.

“There, suddenly,” Dunbar called out dramatically in a loud voice, “the Lover saw, as if in a fantastic dream, a sail as white as a blossom upon a green spray, and a ship of gold sped as quickly as a falcon to the shore.”

To the surprise of all the guests, what appeared to be a small, golden boat glided halfway into the open double doors of the hall entrance, a white sail fluttering above.

“And to the Lover's amazed eyes, a hundred fair maidens in clothes of purest white, their glittering hair whipped with golden threads, tripped gaily from the ship and, like dancing lilies, frolicked in the meadow green. Homer and Cicero, with tongues sweet, could not describe the beauty of this paradise.”

Two servants quickly placed a plank on the low railing of the boat, and stood by to lend a hand as a dozen or more girls and young women from the village skipped down from the ship and out into the hall, to the appreciative applause of the surprised onlookers.

“And then entered Cupid the King and love's queen, Venus, on his arm,” the poet continued, directing the audience's attention back to the ship, where Lord Hugh and Agnes were walking in majesty down the plank and toward three chairs that had been placed at the end of the hall. “And with the company came the lusty knight, Duty, who carries with him the magnificent Golden Targe of the gods.”

With great pomp, Alec, as Duty, strode from the boat and stood at his place behind the third chair between `King Cupid' and `Queen Venus.' On his arm he bore a brilliant, round shield, the Golden Targe, which he held aloft to the crowd's murmurs of approval.

“And then the Lover spied the Lady who, with her handmaiden, Beauty, entered the meadow to do homage to the spring.”

Colin hardly heard the loud cheers as Celia entered the hall. Like a glorious queen, she glowed with a majesty that literally stopped the breath within him. She was like some divinity sent from above. And Celia’s eyes never left him as she and a village girl made their way to where Hugh and Agnes awaited them. The young maiden, as Beauty, sat demurely before her Lady.

“As these lovely ladies danced and played, the Lover hid himself among the green leaves, content to watch the merriment...and the Lady. But then, Venus herself spied the spectator and called on her party to arrest the Lover.”

As Agnes stood and pointed at Colin, the maidens formed a line to attack him.

“But then the warrior Duty, in armor of plate and mail, with shield of gold, came to the aid of the Lover and defended the noble knight,” Dunbar continued, and Alec crossed the room with the gilded shield held high.

“Into the press pursued Youth, Green Innocence, and Obedience. On followed Nurture, Patience, and Steadfastness. A cloud of arrows fell like a shower of hail.”

When the warrior reached Colin, he held the targe up, fending off the invisible arrows that the attacking maidens were launching in pantomime at the Lover. The white-clad ladies encircled the Lover and Duty, his defender. Again and again they pretended to press forward and then fall back as if repulsed in their efforts.

“Alas, their efforts were rebuffed. The Golden Targe allowed none to find their mark. To Venus and the king they retreated.”

Like trained dancers responding to the sound of the music, the village women flew across the floor to Venus and the others. The village maid, as Beauty, rose to her feet at Agnes's beckoning.

“Then Venus the Queen called out for the damsel Beauty to lead her troops once more into the fray.”

Crossing to Duty and the Lover, at the head of her legion, Beauty held her fist up in the air, as if holding something in it, and, on the poet priest's word, pretended to throw it at Alec.

“Then Beauty cast a powder into Duty's eyes, and he staggered unseeing as a drunken man. Alas, when he was blind, they played the fool with him and led him away.”

With a shout of cheerful merriment, some of the ladies spun the `blind' Duty around and led him playfully away.

“And Beauty took the defenseless Lover as her prisoner,” Dunbar went on as the young girl took Colin by the hand directly to Celia, who was now standing between Lord Hugh and Agnes.

“She led him to his Beloved, where he pledged his life and his love to her service.”

Great cheers went up as Colin took the blushing Celia by the hand and kissed her soundly before the entire assembly.

Father William approached the couple and whispered a word to them. Then, leading Lord Hugh and Agnes and the entire group of performers, the wedded couple paraded hand in hand before the guests and stopped in the center of the hall.

As they came to a halt before the assembled host, Runt and Ellen entered with Kit and delivered the infant to Celia, who in turn handed the smiling baby to Colin. Colin carefully held the child aloft for all to see, and then gave the infant back to Celia. The crowd applauded happily.