by King, Susan
"Come ahead, then." He held out his hand.
She stepped past him, went out the door ahead of him and walked decisively toward her cousins.
"My father once said to me, never show your fear. He must have learned it from the Frasers, I think," Duncan commented, walking behind her. She threw a disparaging look over her shoulder and marched ahead.
Magnus, Kenneth, and Hugh cantered toward them on their garrons. Expressions of obvious relief were on their faces as they waved and halted the garrons.
"Elspeth, are you well?" Hugh asked.
"I am fine," she said.
"Duncan Macrae, we thank you for seeing her safe," Kenneth said. "I am sorry, Elspeth, to have left you alone."
"Where were you?" Magnus asked. "We went back to Glenran, and have been searching ever since the rain stopped. It has been hours."
"We took shelter in the shieling hut," she said.
"The shieling hut?" Magnus asked.
"The shieling hut, all the afternoon?" Hugh asked.
Elspeth shrugged and nodded. She saw Magnus look hard at Duncan and start to say something. Then he closed his mouth and looked away.
Hugh scratched his head and looked at Duncan. "She is fine, my cousin?"
"She is," Duncan said. "Ask her yourself."
Hugh tilted a brow at her. Elspeth huffed an indignant sigh. "I am well and fine, Hugh Fraser, and you need not ask."
"The girl saw to her own safety today," Duncan said. "You should be proud of her courage." His eyes sparkled. "Ruari MacDonald will not be eager to face Elspeth Fraser again."
"Ruari MacDonald!" Magnus said. Elspeth told them what had happened in the birchwood.
Hugh frowned. "It is no true surprise that you met Ruari, then. When we got back to Glenran, we learned some grim news." He looked solemnly at them. "The MacDonalds raided in a part of Glenran last night. We were up and out at the hunt so early that we did not hear of it until now. Several farms were raided, a barn was burned to the ground, and an old couple were injured."
"Well over fifty cattle and sheep were taken," Magnus added grimly.
"We will counter-raid tonight," Hugh said. "I will send out gillies to run the fiery cross through the territory and whistle in our kinsmen to ride with us. We will meet at the Fraser yew." Duncan shook his head. "You cannot do that."
"And who will stop them?" Elspeth asked.
He glanced at her. "The queen's lawyer."
Chapter 13
Ay through time, ay through time,
Ay through time was he, lady,
Filled was wi sweet revenge
On a' his enemys, lady.
—"Rob Roy"
"If we do not retaliate, the MacDonalds will call us old women," Ewan insisted, leaning on both hands and glaring across the table at Duncan.
"We keep our pride if we return this raid," Callum said. "Whether or not we sign your bond, the MacDonalds will continue to harm our people and our livestock if we do not stop them."
Listening, Duncan tugged at his gold earring thoughtfully. He had been hearing much the same from the Frasers since they had returned to Glenran after the hunt. He glanced toward Elspeth, who sat silently in the increasing twilight shadows.
The clear gray of her eyes seemed shadowed, too, and a slight frown divided her brows. Duncan frowned, a match to hers, and looked back toward the Fraser cousins.
"We will raid tonight," Hugh said emphatically. "You may come or stay, Duncan man, but you cannot convince us that this raid should not be returned tenfold."
Duncan rose from the bench and leaned his hip against the table, looking down at the Frasers from a position of greater height, an advantage he had learned in courts of law. This invitation to join them on the raid was the opening for which he had been waiting. Their acceptance assured his chances of getting the cursed bond signed and delivered to the Council.
The Frasers were angry over the recent raid, and he would have to convince them to proceed carefully. "I know you want an immmediate counter-raid," he said. "But remember that there are legal raids, and there are raids outside the law."
Callum blinked. "I thought they were all illegal."
Duncan shook his head. "Angry counter-raids such as you plan to run go against the laws of Scotland. But deliberate raiding is sometimes within the law." He paused. "Sometimes." His audience, seated on benches around the wide table, grew agitated, shifting and murmuring to each other.
Magnus leaned toward him. "Tell us, man!"
"The Scottish parliament has recently reviewed the matter of raids and counter-raids, which are a constant problem along parts of the Lowland borders. They declared that immediately following a raid, a `hot ride' is allowable if certain conditions are met. It is already too late for that," he cautioned, holding up a hand. "But if a few days have passed since the first raid, a particular kind of pursuit, called a `cold ride', is acceptable."
"Hot or cold, we ride soon," Ewan insisted.
"Counter-raiding in anger," Duncan went on, "without the supervision of the law, and which results in harm to humans or livestock, is never regarded as legal. Do not ride out in a high temper as soon as it is dark enough. You do not need charges of thievery and murder brought against you, just after a bond of caution has been written out for your clan."
"Then explain this cold ride," Hugh said. "And remember that we have not signed your bond, and can do what we choose."
"If you ride cold, you will need a warden, a man appointed by the sheriff."
Kenneth groaned. "There is no time to send a request to Inverness for the sheriff to ponder and set aside. I am with Ewan—we should ride now, tonight, hot or cold."
"And risk fighting MacDonalds when the bond has already been issued? That is a quick path to fire and sword," Duncan said. "There is another way."
"He is right," Magnus told the others. "Go on."
"The sheriff of Inverness has lately been renamed. The titular sheriff is now James Stewart, Earl of Moray, the queen's half-brother. And Moray is the man who sent me here to you."
Callum whistled low. "We are in luck, I think."
"Perhaps you are," Duncan said mildly. "As the queen's lawyer—and the sheriff's man—I can supervise the raid and make certain that it is legally done."
"We do not care if it is legally done or not," Ewan grumbled. "That is south-country thinking. Just see that it is done to good effect."
Magnus looked at Ewan. "South-country laws can ruin our clan, should the crown send out an order of fire and sword. Listen to Macrae. If we do what he says, we will have the cream from both buckets."
Duncan scratched his jaw as he pondered his next step. "I have seen your raiding style," he said carefully. "There was much of the high and low, the left and right, to it. Silence only if it suits you is not the way to run a good raid."
Judging by the blank gazes returned to him, Duncan realized that the Frasers were unaware that their free, impulsive style of raiding was not the most effective method. Indeed, they looked as if the idea of raiding techniques had never occurred to them. Elspeth, too, stared at him open-mouthed.
Duncan recalled, watching them, that the Glenran Frasers had been raised in a wild pack, with only Lachlann Fraser, who, from what he had heard, had been more scholar than fighter. With so few older men available to teach them hunting, fishing, fighting and raiding, they had taught themselves, developing their own unique approach—at least in raiding. He sighed, knowing that he could teach them much, given the time to do it. The Frasers were anxious to get on with the counter-raid.
"You will need experts," he told them. "One or two at least on the MacDonald terrain. Another several experts at the bow and arrow. Trackers, and someone with excellent night vision. Seers will not do," he added, glancing sternly at Elspeth. She scowled at him from her seat in the shadows. Suppressing a smile, he continued. "Gather together your best men, those most skilled with claymores, dirks, and lances. Summon your cousins from around Glenran. We will need twenty or thir
ty men."
They nodded, one or two at first and soon all of them. Duncan went on. "Always send out the man who knows the terrain first, and let him scout the way for you. Send with him someone with sharp sight and keen hearing. Follow them with men who can flow like wind through heather on pony or on foot. Be silent and quick and clean. Always know where you are going and what you intend to do. Do it as fast and as stealthily as you can. And always know more than one way to get back home again."
"How is it that a lawyer knows cattle reiving?" Hugh asked.
Duncan looked at each of them in turn. Deciding to reveal something more of himself, he felt a frisson of discomfort. Trusting only cautiously as a rule, he had come to trust these Frasers quickly, with their honest, boisterous loyalty. "I had brothers once. We raided on MacDonalds in the western Highlands. I have cousins, too, several of them," he said. "We rode together in the borderlands. My mother's family are Kerrs."
Hugh nodded, his brows lifted. "I have heard the name. The scourge of the Lowlands, the Kerrs. Border raiders. Men who ride outside the law."
"Interesting kinsmen for a long-robe," Callum said.
"Exactly so," Duncan said. The Frasers were looking at him with complete amazement now, as if he were a hearthside dog who had suddenly stood up and spoken with the voice of a man.
"You will act as warden on this cold ride?" Magnus asked.
"More than that," Duncan said. "I will teach you to raid like Border men."
* * *
They rose before dawn and did not sleep until well after dark, and spent most of that time out on the moors and the hills. For three days, Duncan divided them into groups, welcoming every Fraser cousin who came to Castle Glenran, summoned by gillies who ran out with the word that the MacShimi needed them.
Some drilled on horseback, galloping sturdy fast garrons up hills and down in tight, neat packs, riding through thick, snaggy heather whenever possible to soften the sound. Others set up targets on hillsides and moors and practiced shooting with bows and arrows. Still more paired off to play at swordfighting and lances. Duncan directed them frequently to switch places, so that everyone spent time practicing each skill.
When the luminescent darkness of late summer fell each evening, their work intensified. The drills continued as they strived for the same clean perfection in darkness that they had easily achieved in daylight.
During some of the training sessions, wanting to spare his own stallion another injury, Duncan rode a garron pony, a dappled gray with a thick, creamy mane. He had ridden garrons years ago, in the western Highlands, and remembered quickly the ease with which these animals could climb steep hills and gallop through snaggy patches of heather. But he doubted, now that he had ridden tall English-blooded horses, if he would ever again feel comfortable having his long legs hang so far down that his toes sometimes brushed over tall heather plants.
On the third morning, a drenching rain convinced him to gather everyone in the great hall for the afternoon, where he asked them to describe the MacDonald terrain and the MacDonald holdings. Those Fraser cousins and kinsmen who had come from other parts of Glenran, Duncan discovered, had much to contribute to the discussion. When he asked for paper and pen and ink, Flora eagerly bustled off to find some so that he could draw a few basic maps.
Listening as they talked about the MacDonalds, Duncan had drawn the maps, inking in dotted lines to indicate possible routes for the cold ride to follow. As he did so, he had become aware of a deep satisfaction. Along with the contentment of a skill shared and taught, he also felt the ice-hard resolve of revenge begun at last.
With each passing hour, he thought of his own reasons for wanting to ride out against the MacDonalds. He remembered Ruari's face as he had looked at Elspeth, and that alone was enough to stir Duncan's blood to a surging rage. That recent incident had roused in him a long-buried desire for revenge.
He could never forget that a group of MacDonalds had crossed into Kintail to kill his father and his elder brothers. And he had not forgotten that they had wounded him as well, almost to the death. When he had seen Ruari threaten Elspeth, when he had heard of the latest raid, the wild Scot side of him had begun to grow stronger, responding to this infusion of fresh anger.
True, a different branch of Clan MacDonald harassed the Frasers. The revenge was theirs, not his. He knew that the Frasers were determined to see the debt paid well. But Duncan had begun to anticipate the raid with a fervor that did not suit his role as the queen's representative. He should be riding along only to see that the law was met. Unable to deny, now, that he had other reasons as well, he kept that knowledge to himself.
By the third day, Duncan had taught the Frasers the basic principles of cautious and clever reiving. He had seen the Frasers quickly apply their fine archery and riding and fighting skills, and apply their deep enthusiasm, too, to the tasks.
Elspeth had worked as hard as her cousins. She rode faster than the others, being smaller and lighter in weight, and she had a fine, keen hand at the bow. She had no good skill with the broadsword, for each one she lifted was too long for her arms and slender body, and far too heavy, though she would not admit it. Duncan had noted that she stubbornly and consistently tried to handle the broadsword in practice sessions. One afternoon, though, he stepped up to stop her.
"The blade is too long, and you might hurt yourself or one of us by accident," he said, lifting it from her hands. She pulled at the silver handle, resisting, but then relinquished the cumbersome weapon.
"Well, it may be too large for her," Kenneth said, walking up to them, "but I would not come near her if she was holding a small blade in a fit of temper. Elspeth can outdirk any man here, and we all know it."
"Can she, now," Duncan murmured, his eyes locked to hers. He remembered his first night at Glenran, when he had awoken to the gleam of a dirk in her hand. And he recalled the ferocity with which she had struck Ruari MacDonald in the face with a knife blade. "I will remember that," he said.
"And remember, too, that if we had time and the coin to have a sword made to fit her, she would soon be our equal," Kenneth said.
Elspeth grimaced triumphantly at Duncan. A smile teased his own lips, and he saluted her with a bow of respect. She passed by him with an intriguing and wholly unconscious flounce of her plaid. He smiled again, and turned away.
He was well pleased with the Frasers' skills, and with their enthusiasm and ready intelligence. He knew that they were nearly ready to take their newly reorganized skills onto the night moor. But he wanted to be certain.
On the fourth afternoon, five or six of them rode out to the farthest edge of the marches between MacDonald territory and Fraser land, near Bethoc's little croft. Reaching the crest of a high hill, they surveyed the open lay of the land below them. The spectacular view of misted hills and silver rivers matched well enough with the sketched maps that Duncan had brought.
Heading back to Castle Glenran, they stopped briefly at a crofter's cottage. The young wife there, her brown skirts kilted high to reveal her bare legs and feet, offered them oatcakes and bowls of cool milk. As he stood sipping some of the fresh milk, Duncan heard Elspeth thank the woman. He turned to see the young wife smile.
Elspeth tilted her head to one side, a curious look on her face. Her eyes, in that moment, were almost as clear as water, with a deep sparkle. Duncan watched her covertly, fascinated.
"You will have a child before the first spring blooms are through," she said to the woman. "A healthy boy, who will have your fine brown eyes."
The young wife blushed a deep rose. "I have not told anyone yet that I carry a child," she murmured. "I just became certain myself not long ago."
"All will be well with you both," Elspeth said. She reached out and laid a hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "This will not be like the first time. You will carry and birth easily, and will do so again."
"Thank you," the wife whispered. "I lost my first child early. But no one ever knew that."
Duncan stared
at Elspeth over the rim of his bowl. She flicked her eyes toward his, a direct, open look that sent a shivering warmth down his spine before he lowered his gaze.
Elspeth Fraser astonished him. Did she indeed have some heaven-bestowed gift that allowed her to see into the mind and heart of another? Into that person's future? Duncan frowned; he could not easily accept such a possibility.
Perhaps, being female, Elspeth had seen some bloom in the woman's face to which men were simply oblivious. There had to be some private language of posture or gesture that only women understood.
But she had known intimate secrets that this woman had not spoken aloud to anyone. And she had already guessed, though he knew not how, that he had been seriously wounded by MacDonalds long ago.
He shook his head slightly as he set the bowl down. No one, simply no one other than his closest blood relatives, knew the truth of the scar on his back. He could not explain how she knew a MacDonald had wounded him. That she had predicted his death by execution was an extremely uncomfortable thought—if he accepted her ability.
Trained by the law to deal with logic and clearly defined premises, he found himself challenged to understand this girl. She was haunting, magical, made of contradictions, mist and sunlight, a twist of cool silver and warm gold. He was fascinated and enthralled, and confused.
He knew she had some indefinable power; he just was not ready to admit that she could foretell his future. To admit that her Sight was true would be to face his own end.
Elspeth spoke softly with the young woman, laughing now. Duncan turned to answer a question from Magnus, who had to repeat it twice.
All Duncan had heard was Elspeth's light laugh, floating up to chime with the wind.
* * *
Riding home, Ewan began a song that the others soon joined. Duncan listened, content to enjoy the song, but was soon elbowed by Kenneth, who urged him to sing. He shook his head vigorously.
Elspeth, riding on his other side, leaned over. "If you claim to have a Highlander's blood, then sing with us."