“It is a pitiful thought to ruin a fine feast over such useless words,” Rowen stated, hardly masking her disappointment with her brothers. They simply stared at her; this, the lady so boldly speaking to them now, was their little Rowen Kerr. The hour and a half of marriage had changed her. But, they would never claim it, nor would they claim their fault in the events of the evening.
One punch was thrown, and no one saw who threw it. But, in classic Scottish fashion, no reason was needed and a fight ensued.
This occasion was looked forward to for decades as the union of two border clans of Scotland. The wedding of Sir Hamish Wallace III and now Lady Rowan Kerr Wallace. The wedding was beautiful and the ceremony complete. The reception, held in the great hall, was a boastful feast not seen in Scotland in a century.
The guests lined a brilliant table covered in traditional Scottish delicacies as well as imported goods. They laughed, they drank, and they celebrated the joyous union of the clans.
Somewhere in the distance of the hall, critical words were said, and they were abruptly met with a fist. From there the entire event fell into chaos.
Food flew, furniture slammed into bodies, as the fight came to a painful peak. Unexpected items became weapons and no one knew why. After a few minutes, the lady stood on the table with a knife in hand. With one flick of the wrist, the knife spun, and hit the table, lodging the blade deep into the surface.
Silence.
No one moved.
. “There!” Rowen stood, her thick accent carrying through the hall. “That’s done. We had our fill of fighting, and now it’s time to settle down. Now, everybody loose your hold, lower your fists, and act like civilized men!”
Confused silence settled over the hall as men were placed back on their feet, fists unclenched, and furniture was returned to its place.
They looked around at each other in amazement, but none more stunned than Hamish. He stared at her, jaw dropped low. In the fifteen years, he had known her, he had never witnessed her courage or boldness. Suddenly, a wave of apologies spread through the crowd, followed by a burst of heavy laughter.
From there the guests resumed their meal, but the guilty party had been located. Rowen stood above her two brothers - twins, two years older than her. The two were inseparable partners in crime, and therefore constantly bickering about something. Apparently, the whole thing had started with a harmless quarrel, until one meant to punch the other in dreadful aim, hitting a man from clan Wallace.
