7 Chapter 7

Suddenly Peter stood up and removed his priestly robes, stripping down to undergarments. Picking up

a towel and taking a bowl of water he had initially put out for washing in the morning, he began to

wash our feet. Rose began to speak in an unknown tongue, and the messenger boy started to cry. We

then took communion together as more of Peter's followers began to gather in the small chapel. Some

stood, some sat, and some knelt, and a few even lay face down on the ground in prayer.

Peter then stood up and began to preach:

Love will win.

No matter what happens

Love will win in the end.

We all need compassion.

We all need hope.

This is it:

That love will win.

We have a duty to make this a better world.

No, it's more than a duty.

It's destiny.

Embrace your destiny.

Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.

We are one family

We are one world.

Love will win in the end, dear friends.

Love will win.

There are whispers of a word.

Amidst the chaos and confusion of a dark

and angry world, it echoes through the

mist.

My heart heard this misunderstood little

word.

It heard and was blessed.

The word 'love'caused my heart to skip a

beat and my soul to become merry.

Could it be that even in man's darkest

hours, love still lives?

Indeed it lives and breaths all things pure.

But what is the meaning of such a word?

Could it be the joy of babes playing a

merry little din?

Is it the splendour of a spring morning?

Or the beauty of a maiden's face basked in

sunlight?

Or perhaps it's just a word we use in

season to gain something in return?

Maybe it's just a word the poets like to

write?

Nay, it is more.

Surely true love is self-sacrifice.

It's the laying down of one's life for a

friend.

Even an enemy.

It's the will to bless those who curse us

To love our haters

To forgive our debtors as Jesus forgives his.

Love is not some superficial myth, but a dream of things better.

It was love that allowed God's own Son to

give himself into man's angry hands.

It was love that sent him beyond this realm to prepare a peaceful place for us.

Our Promised Land, our Paradise.

Yes, behold, it is love that is the greatest thing!

I sat in awe, knowing the power of God was at work in this place. There was hardly a dry eye in

the chapel. Yet, I could feel a fresh anger arise within me as one of the friends began to explain

what Paul had done. That night he was meant to be visiting Kilravock Castle. So I decided to go and

surprise him. Deep down in my conscience I knew this was a bad idea. A storm was starting to brew

inside. This coward had cost the life of my family and friends.

That night, I approached the castle and noticed on the wall of the west wing the Rose Clan family crest. It was a boar's head with three

symbols that looked like music notes and the words

"Constant and True." I pondered this phrase, and it

got me thinking about my own clan's motto. The MacLeod crest is a bull's head and the words "Hold

Fast." Both these phrases seemed sound advice given the time of crisis now upon me. But the phrase that influenced me most in this time of need was another that I saw on the west wing. It was the words "Non est salus nisi in Christo. Soli Deo

Gloria." This stone had originally been part of a bridge across the river Nairn, but one of the barons

had moved it, fearing it would be destroyed in a storm along with the bridge. It now stood boldly as

part of the castle wall. The translation of these Latin words is, "There is no salvation except in Christ. To

God alone be the glory."

As I pondered these things, I was welcomed into the castle by a kind servant who showed me

through to the drawing room where a party was going to be held. It was such a lovely room, with a

large window facing west, and there were a few people already gathered. I did not see Paul. There

was a little debate among the guests as to when the musicians would arrive, and then they mentioned in

hushed tones that the one known as Bonnie Prince Charlie was going to come to the castle that night.

It was at that moment I desired to leave-

this man had brought a war to our region. Whatever the rights or wrongs of the Jacobite rebellion or

those who wished to crush it, I had decided to have nothing to do with either. I couldn't see Paul

anywhere anyway, so I politely made my excuses and left the castle. As I was coming out the west

driveway, I met a man on a horse who looked at me thoughtfully while caressing a dagger.

"Not for you then, these Jacobites?"

Unsure if he was for or against, I gave him the honest answer, "No."

"Not for me either. Cumberland shall hear of this. I am going to see him this minute at the Rose's

Townhouse. How strange that they should support the rebels in a castle and at the same time

Cumberland and his government troops in a house?"

I looked at him confusedly, so he explained,

"It would appear that the Rose Clan have not taken

a side. They have a rebel in one home and my lord the duke in another."

I was worried for the safety of this

diplomatic family, so I retorted, "Baron Rose told me he did not have an army to withstand the prince's visit, and furthermore, they are a hospitable people who are seeking peace in a country at war."

"Prince? He is no prince! Be gone with you, peasant!" The man spat.

"Gladly," I said, walking away from this unpleasant stranger.

I stayed at an inn in Culloden the night before the battle, but on hearing the suggestion that

the English troops opposed to the Jacobites planned to use this inn after the fight, I left early. But in my

grief and anger, as I walked out I saw Paul. My conscience said Forgive him as Christ forgives you.

However, at that moment a louder, primitive rage

within was saying Avenge your beloved. He had to

pay-he had to suffer for all he had done.

I headed for the battlefield, following him discreetly as he followed the government troops.

But even as I walked, I began to argue within myself about what I planned to do. Paul had not

only handed the village and my family over to the

redcoats, but he was now heading out to fight on their behalf! I could not abide it any longer. He had

to die. As I disputed within myself, I lost sight of Paul.

From a distance I observed the Battle of Culloden in all its brutality begin, and I decided that

if Paul survived the battle, I would take his life. And

so I found him alive near the edge of the field as the

wounded were being slaughtered. I found myself at

the end of the battle, holding a gun to my friend's

head and trembling with the conflict that warred

within me. But I couldn't do it. How could I kill

him? It would be inconsistent with my love and

inconsistent with my beliefs. As I knelt hugging

Paul, I thought about everything that had happened.

I remembered the words of Condon, the story I had heard of Matthew Campbell being martyred, my

marriage to Jenny, how I had met Paul, how my

family was now dead and my beloved in prison. I

had a choice of how to react: choose despair and

revenge or choose hope and redemption.

Getting up, Paul threw off his red coat and

charged toward the British soldiers whose task it

was to kill the wounded. The scream of a young boy

being given some final death blows punctuated

Paul's steps. I understood in an instant: in his grief

and regret, he was throwing himself into the

Jacobite cause. He had seen and heard enough, he

was becoming a deserter and an advocate for the

dying men of this field of blood. I protested, calling

after him, insisting that this was not real repentance.

But I do not know if he heard my words. He was

instantly shot by a soldier who, seeing me, charged

toward me also.

I managed to flee the bloody battlefield,

traumatised.

As I fled, a Jacobite who thought I was a

deserter unfaithful to the rebellion attacked me. I

managed to defend myself by using my arm as a

shield. I so much wanted to fight back, but if I did

my entire belief system would be useless.

Then suddenly I cried out:

"I am not a Jacobite or a redcoat! I am a

follower of the peaceable kingdom."

This outburst at first seemed to have little

impact, but when I said it a second time, adding the

words "Father, forgive," the man stopped his attack

and helped me off the ground. He muttered, "It is a

difficult day in which to remain neutral."

"Oh, I am not neutral. I am just not wrestling

against flesh and blood."