“It was September when I got a letter from him, or rather from my business acquaintance Adam Featherstone, telling me that the package he’d gone to enquire about had unfortunately been lost at sea, and that he was going on a short trip and then would continue with business as before. I knew then that you were dead, and I was trying to think of a way to tell the others without giving away that I knew about Alex, when Jane got a letter from Sarah two days later saying that you’d been transported and died on the way to Antigua.
“I’ll be honest with you, Beth, I haven’t heard anything of him since then. I don’t know what the short trip was, and I can’t imagine how he must have felt, thinking you were dead for the second time.”
Beth sat quietly for a while, thinking this over.
“I don’t know what the short trip would be, but you said he’d taken the revenge oath, and that you hadn’t reached the number when he left?”
“No. I wasn’t keeping an exact count. Angus was, but we were a good way short of the two hundred.”
“Then the ‘business as before’ is his oath. He would keep that, no matter what. Which means that he went home after his trip. So I have to go to Scotland. That’s where he’ll be,” she said.
“If he’s still alive,” Graeme pointed out gently.
“If he’s still alive,” she agreed. “But if he isn’t, then if the MacGregors don’t know, no one will. So I’ll stay here another day or two, because it’s lovely being here and because I need to go and get some more of that gold you buried, and then I’ll leave. In fact I think we should tell the others about the money and bring it back here. Now Richard’s dead, and as far as the authorities are concerned I am too, no one’s going to look for it. I expect they think Sir Anthony gave it all to the prince to buy swords. I’ll take as much as I can carry without raising suspicion, and you can all have the rest. I’ll write to tell you what happens, whether I find the ‘package’ or not.”
“No you won’t,” Graeme said. “Before you fainted so clumsily into my arms yesterday, I told you I’d take you to him, and I will.”
“You don’t have to,” Beth said. “I know the way. And you’ve got cabbages and things to plant, surely?”
“Ben can manage that,” Graeme said. “I’m teaching him everything I know, so he can take over the heavy digging when it gets too much for me. Not yet,” he added, cutting the retort about old men off before it could be uttered. He really did know her. “And I got very fond of the purple popinjay, once I got to know him properly. I’d like to see him again. And that big redheaded bastard that kept trying to make me wear a skirt. I want to see what he looks like in breeches now it’s against the law for the Scots to dress like women.”
Beth laughed so hard at that that she almost fell off the log. And from Graeme’s point of view it had the desired result; it stopped her raising any further objections to him accompanying her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Scotland, April 1748
Angus was sitting part way up the hill above the MacGregor settlement, ostensibly to get a little peace to complete his birthday present for Morag. His excuse was partly true; it was virtually impossible to concentrate on carving an intricate and detailed wooden model of a fox, with Simon and Janet’s small but intensely curious and energetic children asking him questions every few seconds. It was a lovely sunny day too, a perfect one for sitting outside. Up near the top of the hill, in the saucer-shaped depression which led to the cave, Alex, Iain and Kenneth were talking, probably planning the next raid.
Some of the other men had gone off to practice their fighting skills and had asked Angus to join them, but he’d declined. Truth be told, he didn’t need the practice and was sick of fighting anyway. It was one thing going on a cattle raid, killing redcoats who were raping and slaughtering villagers and burning their homes, or killing in battle as he had at Prestonpans, Falkirk Muir and Culloden; but it was quite another waiting outside the towns to ambush soldiers who had broken their officer’s curfew to go and have a few drinks or meet a sweetheart. Which was what they were now having to do to meet their tally.
He had tried to resurrect the rage and hatred he’d felt when he’d found the charred remains of the women after Culloden, when he’d held Maggie in his arms as her life had ebbed away, helpless to save her. But he had realised that it was impossible to maintain a killing rage for two years, especially when you had other things to live for, like your wife and son and another baby soon to come.
One hundred and ninety-two. Eight left to kill to fulfil the oath.
Very carefully he carved the features into the tiny face, hunched over on the ground, focussing completely on his task for a while. Morag would love this. He had already made her an owl, an otter and a wildcat, which were all proudly displayed on a shelf out of the children’s reach.
The eyes and nose complete, he reached down, picking up the flask of water and the bannock he’d brought with him, and whilst eating stared out across the loch thinking about the other reason he’d wanted to be alone today. He needed to think about the clan meeting Alex had called two days ago, and the private talk he’d had with Angus after it.
Alex had called the meeting because he’d had a letter from Cluny MacPherson, who was still living in a cave on the side of Ben Alder and who had received a communication from Prince Charles which he was passing on to relevant and trustworthy clan chiefs.
“Charles is telling his followers to be ready to rise again at short notice, because he believes that when the Elector dies Cumberland will try to seize the crown from Frederick. He says that if that happens, the whole country will be thrown into turmoil and it would be the perfect time for another rising.”
There had been a moment’s silence as everyone processed this.
“What do you think, Alex? Ye ken them all better than most,” Iain said.
“Better than Charles does, I’m thinking,” Kenneth added.
Alex had scrubbed his hand through his hair, which hung loose around his shoulders and which he only tied back now when on a raid so it wouldn’t obscure his vision at a crucial moment.
“I dinna ken for sure,” he’d said. “It’s possible, but no’ likely. George hates Frederick and always has done, and Frederick has caused him a lot of problems – Leicester House where he lives is virtually a rival court to George’s. And Cumberland is definitely his father’s favourite son. But in fairness to Cumberland, he’s never shown any signs of wanting the crown for himself; he’s a military man, as we all ken to our cost. And the brothers, though they’re no’ close, havena taken against one another.
“If ye ignore the fact that the whole family have no right to the throne, then Frederick’s the rightful heir to George. And if ye add to that the fact that Frederick already has sons of his own to carry on the line, whereas Cumberland isna even married yet…no, I think Charles is clutching at straws. The only chance would be if George names William Augustus as his heir; in that case he might make a bid, to fulfil his father’s dying wish.”
“Of course for this to happen, George has to die first,” Angus pointed out.
“True.”
“But he’s an old man, is he no’?” Allan asked.
“He’s sixty-five, aye. But he’s no’ in his dotage yet. Remember he led his troops at Dettingen five years ago. But also, Fred is quite popular, and rightly so, for he’s a good man. He’ll be a fine king when the time comes,” Alex said, to everyone’s surprise. He looked around at the shocked expressions on his audience’s faces, and smiled.
“I didna say he’ll be the rightful king,” he explained. “But he’ll be a good one. And I owe him a debt, so I hope I dinna have to fight against him one day, although I will of course, if I have to, for I’ve sworn my allegiance to King James.”
“What debt do ye owe him?” Peigi asked.
Alex’s face closed immediately, telling everyone that it was something to do with Beth, although he didn’t utter a word to suggest that.
“So t
hen,” he said, ignoring the question completely, “I dinna think we need to do anything other than what we already are. If there’s a rising we could be ready in a matter of days anyway, if it came to it. I just wanted to tell ye what Charles said.”
Once the meeting had been declared over, everyone had dispersed except for Angus, because Alex had expressed a desire to have a private word with him. They went to Simon and Janet’s house, as Alex was still living there, having dismissed Simon’s assurances that he was well enough to move back to his own place.
“I’m fine where I am,” Alex had said. “You make the most of the fine bed and the good fire. We’ll see how you are at the end of the month.”
Alex sat down on a stool near the small central fire, from which a lazy curl of smoke rose to hover in the roof space before making its way eventually through the thatch. He beckoned Angus to sit opposite, then sat looking into the fire, clearly thinking of how to word what he wanted to say.
In the past Angus would have waited for no more than ten seconds before becoming restless and pressing his brother to speak. The fact that he now sat quietly for a good three minutes patiently waiting for Alex to say something, spoke volumes of the change in him.
“We’ve nearly reached the total to fulfil our oath to Maggie and Beth,” Alex said at length, still staring at the fire.
“Aye,” Angus replied. “Eight left to kill.”
Alex nodded.
“What will ye do after that?” he asked.
Angus’s brow furrowed. Surely it was obvious?
“I’ll go back to what I was doing before,” he said. “Well, before the rising, that is. Except for having Morag and wee Sandy, of course.” He smiled warmly at the thought of what that life would be like. He was ready to settle down. There would be raids, of course, but that was just part of normal life. “Is that no’ what we’ll all be doing?” he added.
“I canna,” Alex said softly. “I canna go back.”
He looked up from the fire then, and the expression on his face broke Angus’s heart.
“Ah, shit, Alex, I’m sorry, I shouldna have said that. It was thoughtless of me,” Angus said. Alex waved a hand dismissively.
“Dinna fash yourself. I’m no’ so easily hurt. I made my decision a long time ago, after…I just wanted to be sure ye were ready, to see it for myself, and ye are.”
“Ready for what?” Angus asked.
“Once we’ve finished the killing, I intend to call a meeting and formally declare you the chieftain of the clan. But of course I have to have your agreement to it. I ken the clan will be happy – no’ a one of them has brought a complaint to me about how ye led them when I was away.”
Angus wasn’t so sure that the clan would be happy with that decision. He certainly wasn’t.
“Alex,” he said, leaning forward earnestly, “I dinna want to be the chieftain. I never have. I never thought to do it; it was always you, and if no’ you, Duncan. I havena the wisdom for it. Ye’ve always said I was reckless, and ye’ve the right of it.”
“Aye, well, ye’ve changed a lot since Culloden.”
“We all have.”
“That’s true. But ye’ve changed for the better. In some ways. I miss the carefree boy ye were, I’ll admit that. But ye’d have grown up anyway, in time. I’m sorry it had to happen in such a way, though.”
“Maybe, but—”
“And ye’re far more fit than I am now,” Alex interrupted.
“What? No!” Angus protested. “Ye’re just grieving, again. I ken it’s hard for ye, especially having had the hope that…well, ye ken. But ye’ll recover. Ye just need time, that’s all.”
Alex leaned forward too, then, bracing his elbows on his knees and looking at his brother, his expression intense.
“Angus, listen to me,” he said, “for I’ll no’ speak of this again with ye after today, and never with anyone else. When I thought Beth dead the first time, the only thing that kept me going was the blood oath. I tellt myself that I’d recover, that I could go on, afterwards. But it was a lie. When I looked to the end of the oath, all I could see was darkness. So when I found out she was alive, it changed everything. I dinna think I realised how dead I’d been inside until Richard brought me back to life. But ye ken what happened in London. And now I canna go back to normal. There is no normal any more. There’s nothing.”
“I dinna ken what happened in London, Alex,” Angus pointed out gently. “I ken that ye found out she was dead after all, and today ye tellt us ye owe Frederick a debt, which I assume is to do wi’ that time, but that’s all. Did he find out that she’d died?”
Alex scrubbed his hand through his hair again.
“Ye dinna have to talk about it,” Angus said hurriedly.
“Aye, I do. I see that now. For if I dinna, ye’ll no’ understand why I must do what I’m going to do, and because ye need to ken why I want ye to be chieftain, that it’s no’ so I can go and grieve to death as I wanted to after Culloden. I’m past that, at least. But this is between you and I alone.”
Angus nodded, at which Alex stared into the flames again, this time for so long that Angus wondered if he’d changed his mind, or somehow fallen asleep sitting up. When Alex finally spoke, he jumped, startled by the sound.
“I’ll no’ go into the details,” he said, “and there’s some things that are no’ mine to tell. When I got to London I found out that Beth had been transported to Antigua, but that the ship was captured by French pirates and all the prisoners were taken to Martinique. I had to wait in London then, because my informant didna ken if Beth and the others would be released and if they were, whether they’d stay in Martinique. It’s a French island, and as we’re at war wi’ the French I thought it likely she’d be freed. But I couldna go half way round the world only to find out she’d been sent to France or some such nonsense.”
“You’d have sailed to the Colonies?!” Angus exclaimed. Even the thought of going on a ship made him feel nauseated.
“I’d have swum there, if I’d had to. We’re no’ all seasick like you,” Alex replied, smiling. “But even if I was, aye, I would have done. Because she thought I was dead. She believed that was the reason I didna keep my promise to her. What that bastard Richard tellt me was true. She was in the Tower, and interviewed by Cumberland and Newcastle, but she didna give me up, didna give any of us up. So they put her in Newgate Prison, which is a hell hole, and when she still wouldna talk Newcastle sent Richard to her. They didna ken she was with child, no’ till…afterwards, when she lost the bairn. Newcastle refused to allow her to be treated properly, and she was left in a cell to starve to death.
“None of her friends or family knew she was even in London. But then Sarah found out, and she went to…some other friends, ones with influence and in the end it was Prince Frederick himself who rescued her, and who picked her up out of the filth and saved her life. From what I was tellt, she was worse than Simon, couldna even sit up or feed herself when he found her.”
“That’s why you owe him a debt,” Angus said, awestricken. He had never heard Alex use the royal title of any of the usurper’s family before. That he had now showed how high his opinion of the man was.
“Aye, that’s why. He sent his own surgeon to her as well, and they brought her back to life, against her will, for she tellt them she wanted to die, to…to…” He stopped speaking, and took a huge, shuddering breath.
“To be with you,” Angus supplemented.
Alex stood abruptly, and for a moment Angus thought he was going to stop the story there, and if so, he would not have pushed him to speak of it again, for he could see what a toll this was taking. He waited while Alex walked up and down the room then stood by the doorway for a while, breathing deeply. Then, having recovered a little, he sat back down and continued.
“Aye. She recovered, in time, and then she found out that Richard was threatening Sarah, and that stupit wee fool Ann that married him. So she decided to go and tell Newcastle that Richard was a traitor,
that he knew I was a spy but accepted a commission in the army to keep quiet. She believed that he’d be court-martialled, and she was probably right. If he’d lived, that is.
“But she still wouldna say anything about me, so Newcastle had her transported, because he wanted her out of the way, and he couldna do anything to her in England because Prince Frederick had taken an interest. He no doubt hoped she’d die, either on the voyage or soon after, and he got what he wanted. He must be feeling verra pleased wi’ himself right now. And that’s why I’ve tellt ye all this, so ye’ll understand why ye must agree to take over the chieftainship after the oath is fulfilled.”
Angus thought for a minute, but was none the wiser. He opened his mouth to ask the question, but Alex, observing him closely, had already read his mind.
“When we’ve fulfilled that oath, I’ve another to do. I mean to go to London and stab that bastard through the heart,” he said.
Angus’s eyes opened wide.
“What?! Ye canna kill the Duke of Newcastle! He’s one o’ the most powerful men in the land! Ye’ll never get away wi’ it.”
“I dinna mean to. I just need to see him, alone. Ye mind Sir Anthony could go anywhere he wanted, and Tobias Grundy rode out of Fort Augustus wi’ two thousand cattle. It’ll no’ be difficult to get a private interview wi’ the man. As for afterwards, I dinna much mind. If I can, I’ll provoke the guards into killing me. If no’, then I’ll be executed anyway. Either way, there’ll be an end of it, and I’ll be happy for that. But I’ll be a lot happier if I ken I’m leaving the clan in good hands.”
Angus wanted to scream that he would not take on the chieftainship, that he would not let Alex go and kill himself in this way, that it was stupid and pointless. But he didn’t, because he knew that if their positions were reversed, and it was Morag and her unborn child who had suffered and died because of a vindictive bastard, he too would want to kill him, whatever the cost. With every bone in his body he wanted to stop Alex from leaving; but he couldn’t. So he gave his brother the only gift he could.
Tides of Fortune (Jacobite Chronicles Book 6) Page 42