Guard Alba and the Ardanach Wedding

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Until the bride was felled by her father’s police truncheon, the wedding had been entirely normal - although her father, the Chief Constable, wasn’t much aware that his daughter, Flora, was comatose, since he had fallen at the next blow. The groom, magnificent in the dress uniform of an officer of the Kincardineshire and Mearns Constabulary, fell to his knees - not because he too had been struck, but more in anticipation - and, as he cowered at the altar steps, he was well placed to see the Minister, who only seconds before had been giving thanks to God for the gift of marriage, rugby-tackled with the violence of a Six Nations prop. 

It occurred to the best man that he ought to intervene, and mouth-to-mouth for the bride seemed appropriate. The groom disagreed, and that’s how the next fight started. The bride’s mother reflected that this was not what she’d been expecting when they booked Ardanach Castle for Flora’s wedding and, as the Minister regained consciousness, he had a similar thought - pondering why he was now tied to the altar rail by the bride’s veil, twisted into a crude rope.

Later - much later - when the bandaging was done, statements taken, rips repaired and fraternal silence agreed, the Chief Constable reflected that he had been right to use the official police photographer for the wedding photos. There was little chance anything would leak to the press: no embarrassments at the next lodge meeting, and every chance of picking up the pieces - of trying again in a couple of weeks. It had been particularly painful for poor Flora, and more so for her mother, but they both understood there was no benefit in the press printing every embarrassing detail. Besides, the groom was by now over his little misunderstanding with the best man, helped by a hip flask produced from the pocket where his police notebook would normally be kept. All was well. Almost.  

What the Chief Constable didn’t understand was the “why?”. He looked across the room at Dimbleby McRust, Guard Alba’s manager of Ardanach Castle and initiator of the assault on the Minister. It was McRust who had lunged from the side of the altar, grabbing the Chief Constable’s truncheon and felling Flora and her father en route to his target. It was McRust who had brought down the Minister and tied him to the altar rail. But why? And who? The Chief Constable knew the face but couldn’t place it. McRust had said little, and when he realised he wasn’t going to be charged, clammed up altogether. And yet the face - there was something familiar about the face.