“Bar the door and burn the church down.” murmured the MacDonald through the sound of singing, that oozed through the walls of the little church. The sun was out, the wind forcefully as ever, making the long haired raiders look even more fierce. They held their weapons ready, at the back of the church, away from the strong winds, the men lit their torches. Unseen from the MacLeods inside.
“We revenge our dead, our folk hiding in that cave when you raided our island, the Isle of Eigg! You massacred hundreds and hundreds shall die!”
When they barred the heavy wooden doors, the sound of singing stopped. The MacLeods inside were suddenly silent as corpses. Not a single cry could be heard. Until MacDonald torches hit the thatched roof and smoke poured
in heavy clouds from the ceiling onto the congregation. There was no way out. They held a last prayer before they all died, burning or suffocating in the smoke. No escape, the pain and fear unimaginable.
They all died but a girl, who managed to escape the flames and raise the alarm. Only to die of her wounds soon after.
The MacLeod Chief in Dunvegan unfurled the Fairy Flag and led his men up North, to the Waternish peninsula of the Isle of Skye, where Trumpan church was burning.
The MacDonalds had taken too long to ensure that all had burned down and no one had escaped. They had missed the girl who did and they had missed their time to get away. The MacLeods found them in Ardmore Bay less than a mile away from the smoldering remains of Trumpan church. Their boats were captured and all the MacDonalds were killed.
Their bodies were buried beneath a dyke.
They had no resting place in the churchyard of the MacLeods.
