Twilight Hollow

Just posting the first few pages of a book I plan to get published - if this isn't the right place to do so, then sod it, it should be

But first, a quick introduction to what the book is about:

www.consanguinecurse.webs.com

Good. Now, the actual opening for it:

It was a surprise for Seonaidh as he stepped through the doors. He had not been expecting, even of Macdonald, such a glorious display. The decoration was so extravagant and the attention to detail was so spectacular that there was nothing in the great hall that was not beautiful in the most elegant and dazzling way imaginable.

There were many pillars around the hall, with intricate interwoven mystical designs featuring flowers, fascinating geometry, and bizarre combinations of creatures. But their beauty and prestige was accentuated - there was not one pillar that was not draped with silk banners with an assortment of slogans and dazzling standards, with the symbols of the empire embroidered in gold and silver.

Seonaidh looked around, at the walls and at the floor, at the archways to the sides. There were always people to be seen, with their conversations and laughter. The men wore ankle-length robes with beautiful designs around the hem and sleeves in the richest colours, always in contrast with the colour of the rest of their attire. The women wore kerchiefs and the most dazzling jewellery which was the pinnacle of design, combining beautiful art, the same designs as the pillars, with exotic gems. Their cosmetics made their faces radiant in the torchlight, their eyes sparkling like rubies, emeralds, or sapphires, or whatever colour eyes they had but as the precious stones the torchlight made them out to be.

Those who were not standing were seated at the table that went from one end of the great hall to the other, conversing over silver plates of rabbit, pheasant, venison, whale meat, and glasses of red wine and local whisky, both of excellent quality. The rabbit was smothered in honey, everything else decorated with fruits and scented plants, or accompanied with freshly-baked bread.

The servants of Macdonald himself were rushing about from chair to chair, carefully minding the hardy Norse oak which the furniture was made out of, with its decorative but practical design. Their whole manner of handling both the pitchers and the glasses they poured the whisky into showed their familiarity with serving many guests.

But they went about their work with jovial dignity, and an air of pride. By their clothes alone, they could barely be told apart from the retainers, generals, nobles, and foreign scholars who crowded the room. Only by knowing them personally or by watching their actions could you see that they were servants.

One of them who walked in front of Seonaidh?s gaze grabbed his attention. He reached out, and put a hand on her shoulder.

?Raghnailt?? he asked, surprised. The girl whirled around, lucky not to spill the contents of the glass she was holding. Her dutiful face lit up.

?Seonaidh? I thought you were...? she said, her voice trailing off when Seonaidh nodded.

?I was, but the Tighearna nan Eileanan summoned me here,? he replied, referring to Macdonald by the Lord of the Isles? official title. ?Speaking of him, I need to see him before he begins the feast, and I was wondering if you could tell him that I?ve arrived??

?But?? the girl began, as Seonaidh gently pushed past her.

?I?ll be waiting for him wherever the starters are,? he continued, briefly turning back to her with a smile. ?You go on, you?re needed somewhere.? He looked around, searching for a way through the crowd. He eventually decided that keeping close to the chairs was the best idea, so he shuffled courteously past two friends in the way and continued, eyeing everyone in the crowd as he pressed on towards the far end of the great hall.

It was astonishing just how many people he did not recognise. There were only a few faces he thought were vaguely familiar, and almost no-one in the room was an actual acquaintance whom he had any sort of discussion with.

He looked around, shuffling past people with almost continuous polite apologies, trying to get a glimpse of their faces in the vain hope of seeing someone he recognised. Even the faces across the table from him were either hidden by a kerchief, behind a wine glass, or turned to someone else. That or they were the dull and dutiful faces of soldiers that Macdonald had scattered about the crowd for some reason, sitting in their dirty saffron-coloured leines and soaked plaids, looking quite bizarre when seated next to men and women in elegant silk and cotton.

Seonaidh eyed them curiously, a little nervously, as he walked, paying no attention to the crowd who seemed quite accustomed to their presence. Why Macdonald would place soldiers in the crowd, where only his most trusted subjects were present, and in peacetime no less, was beyond him.

He was disturbed enough by it to be jumped when a seated man he was about to walk behind sharply pulled out, as if trying to knock him over. He leapt back in a rage, and was less than a second from screaming at the guest, but he thought better of it. His confusion at what they did next dispersed any anger there was left.

Before Seonaidh had a chance to say anything, the man, still seated, put a hand on his shoulder and addressed those he was seated with. He didn?t even wait for them to be paying any attention.

?And here he is, just as expected. I give you Seonaidh Mac An Sporrain!?

Those who were listening burst into whistling and wild applause, which swept along the length of the table. People cheered and whooped and clapped their hands, and even the soldiers from one end of the table to the other got to their feet.

The crowd had joined in, raising their glasses. Seonaidh whirled around, bemused, before turning to confront the man again. But now he could see his face, he again decided against it. Instead, he gratefully received a friendly embrace as the man got to his feet.

?Gabhaibh mo leisgeul,? he said, asking to be excused. ?I?ve heard the good news, you see. Congratulations, and give my sister my love.? Seonaidh laughed, trying to prise himself free.

?And your nephew, I take it?? Seonaidh smiled.

?Of course. Come on, take a seat and have a drink with us, and take my leine.? The man pulled off his knee-length leine, handing it to Seonaidh, as Seonaidh did likewise. The two leines were exchanged, and the crowd began to applaud again, as the man offered Seonaidh his seat. ?Good times and prosperity are ahead. May I ask what you have called the baby??

?You are his uncle, Uilleam, I?d be glad to. We didn?t go for anything special, mind. His name is Iain.?

?It has meaning to you, right? Your father?s name, isn?t it??

?Yes,? Seonaidh replied, helping himself to an untouched glass of whisky that had obviously been prepared for him. ?Eilidh suggested it. Doing my father an honour is not something I?d be very keen on, you know that.?

?Oh, I know,? Uilleam replied apologetically. ?But even so, the name has meaning. And it?s not the worst name my sister could have came up with, either. She used to be keen on Keir!? he chuckled.

?Keir? Damn, she has bad taste!? Seonaidh joked. ?You do know you have no seat now? Or was that the intention?? Uilleam shrugged, and looked apologetic.

?Sorry, friend. I need to tell Macdonald you?ve arrived. Just a warning, but don?t say I told you - he?s going to mention the birth of your baby in his speech.?

?He?d have heard the applause! And thanks for telling me.? Uilleam turned to walk away, but Seonaidh grabbed his arm. ?What are the soldiers here for?? he asked. Uilleam shrugged.

?I don?t know. I?ll be right back,? he replied, before disappearing into the crowd. Seonaidh took another sip of his whisky, wishing he could taste the food before Macdonald began the feast. He looked over at one of the soldiers briefly, before thinking better of asking and turning back to the people who were seated around him.

?I?m guessing you?re all Uilleam?s officers, then?? he asked. Most of them, including the people opposite him, nodded with enthusiasm.

?His officers or his retainers,? one of them explained. ?Most people in this room have something to do with his family or yours, Seonaidh. Hardly any of them are complete strangers.? Seonaidh looked puzzled, and the statement simply slipped from his lips.

?You?re all strangers,? he said. ?Besides Raghnailt and Uilleam, I know no-one in this room that well.?

?Ah, but I?d wager some of them you recognise, correct?? a lady asked, amused.

?Yes, but?wait, what about???

?You?ve been fooled,? the lady explained. ?This is a little party before everyone else arrives here for the more formal celebrations tomorrow. Sure, you?ll get a few complete strangers here, but they keep to themselves. Don?t even speak the language. They?re only here to look at the architecture,? she said, removing her kerchief. ?This was beginning to distract me. I was tempted to tell you earlier.?

?Scottish?? Seonaidh asked, noticing a few of the foreigners in the crowd. The lady briefly turned around to look at them.

?English,? she replied. ?So, how is Eilidh??

?She?s fine. A bit tired. The clansmen and their families are glad to help out, though, and Seasamain is as enthusiastic as ever.

?You?re lucky.?

?I suppose. Are you alright? You?re Iseabal, right?? Seonaidh asked.

?Oh, you do remember. I was going to ask,? she said with a cheeky grin. ?I actually couldn?t be better.? She reached out, and took a sip of her own whisky.

?Any prospects for children of your own then?? Iseabal almost spat out her drink, swiftly putting the glass back on the table, looking around in a panic to see if anyone had heard.

?No!? she whispered.

?Hard to see why,? Seonaidh continued, teasing. ?Are you sure??

?Yes!?

?Fair enough,? Seonaidh smiled, half-expecting her to throw some whale meat in his face. If they had not been in Macdonald?s great hall, she probably would have done.

Post any comments or questions below. The Gaelic phrase used here is the formal way of asking to be excused (although that's not the literal translation), so don't ask about that rolleyes