Written In Stone

after Bettina and her maid were shown to their rooms. "I'll marry her, then send her back to her own clan. I have no use for a child in my life. I agreed to the marriage for the peace it might bring to our lands, but I dinna agree to raise the Llewelyn's daughter for him."
    "What about yer lineage? Yer own sons?" His father reminded him of his family duty once again.
    Muredach burst into laughter. "Da! Look at her! She barely reaches my knees! If I bed the lass, I would surely break her in two! And if I dinna break her, the bairn surely would upon his birth. The bairn would likely be the same size as the lass!"
    Fergus chuckled at the thought and nodded his head. "Fine then, send her back to her clan, but know this, ye'll never be able to marry another. Bettina will be yer legally wedded wife 'til death."
    "Aye, I know. That bothers me not. I've never felt the need to marry a wench in the past."
     
    Two weeks of betrothal parties passed, and the Mor clan sat on one side of the abbey with swords at the ready. The Llewelyn clan sat on the other side with swords drawn. The feud between the two clans dated back before Muredach's birth, but he was well aware of the story.
    The Mors and Llewelyns both, were in Jerusalem the same time as Christ and witnessed the Crucifixion. At the moment the Roman soldier pierced Christ's side with his spear, while the only begotten of God Almighty hung on the cross, Dongart Llewelyn took it upon himself to club the Roman soldier and take the spear from him. In the mêlée that soon followed, the spear remained on the rocky ground as the Roman guard dragged Dongart away, and Gabhran Mor slipped around and picked up the spear, spiriting it away unnoticed. It remained with the Mor clan and ever since, the Llewelyn clan tried to recover it, claiming the spear was rightfully theirs.
    The current laird of the Llewelyn clan had a new plan to retrieve the spear: his only daughter, Bettina. The Llewelyn didn't know, however, that Muredach had no intention of living with the girl after the ceremony, and another mêlée was sure to erupt once the truth came out.
    Muredach stood near the altar with the priest as Bettina walked down the flower-strewn aisle. She was pretty as a picture in her blue and silver dress. It was the colors of the Mor. The blue satin dress included a delicate silver lace overlay, and Bettina wore delicate blue flowers woven into a wreath sitting on the silver lace veil covering her head and face. She was a lovely child, Muredach thought, watching her walk toward him. But a child nonetheless, and a child belonged with her parents, not in the wedding chamber with a man. Especially, not a man whose leg was bigger than she was!
    Muredach took Bettina by the hand. She never once raised her eyes to look at him but kept her face looking at her feet as much as possible. Never answering the priest, she merely nodded woodenly. She's scared to death of me , and why wouldna she be? I'm a giant compared to her! Muredach looked at the priest when he said his vows and answered "Aye." The priest announced them wed, and Muredach turned to his wife and lifted her veil. He leaned to place a chaste kiss on her cheek then walked out of the abbey with her beside him. Once outside, Muredach turned to Bettina and told her to stay with her mother, then he went to speak with the Llewelyn.
    "Once the wedding feast is over, I'll be returning Bettina to yer clan," Muredach informed his father-in-law.
    "What is this?" Llewelyn shouted. "She is yer lawful wife. She stays with ye."
    "Nay, she goes home with ye. She is a child and I'll not be raisin' her for ye. Ye tupped her mother, not me. Ye raise her. The marriage shall stand in name only."
    Llewelyn cursed loudly enough that the priest heard him. "The marriage is not legally binding until ye've bedded her," he reminded his son-in-law.
    "It'll not be happening. Look at me then look at your daughter! Do ye wish her dead on her wedding night? Even if she survived the tuppin', I might roll over and squash her during the night!" That brought a raucous round of laughter from the Mor clan, and another round of cursing from the Llewelyn.
    Fergus Mor stepped up beside his son. "My son has spoken, Llewelyn, and fact that he will be laird here one day might have ye rethinking yer decision concerning this matter. And considering ye be on Mor land now, outnumbered five to one, ye may want to sit back and enjoy the feast while ye be able." Then to Muredach, he said,