Highland Storms

by Christina Courtenay

  Marsaili urged the ponies into a trot, following the dog’s loping stride. Please, dear God, help us find Brice quickly, before it’s too late, she prayed silently.

  As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness of the pit he found himself in, Brice began to look for a way out. Since oubliettes were obviously supposed to be escape proof, he wasn’t too hopeful. It was at least four yards from top to bottom, which meant that no matter how high he jumped, he’d never reach the rim. And with a hurt ankle, he couldn’t jump much in any case. The circumference of the hole was also too large for him to be able to brace himself against opposing sides and thereby climb out. There was one thing in his favour though – it looked as though this particular castle had been a ruin for quite some time. That meant the elements had wreaked havoc with the original construction, and fortunately this proved to be the case in his primitive prison as well.

  The walls were made out of stone, smoothed and mortared so as not to give anyone a handhold for scaling them. However, rain, wind and the occasional hardy weed had worked on the mortar and loosened it considerably in many places. Brice noticed one side of the pit in particular was crumbling more than the others. He went over to test it with questing fingers and then tried to climb a short way up.

  ‘Fan i helvete,’ he swore softly in Swedish when he put his weight on the damaged ankle. A red-hot streak of pain sliced through it and he had to grit his teeth in order to conclude his experiment. A short while later, there was no doubt in his mind he could escape that way with a bit of luck and perseverance. The wall held and if he searched with his fingertips, he was able to find enough of a hold to progress upwards. Thankfully, this didn’t dislodge the actual stones of the wall, which seemed able to bear his weight.

  The ankle was his main concern, because he needed both feet, but there was nothing he could do except try to endure the pain. To make it more bearable, he tore strips of material off the bottom of his shirt and tied the ankle securely. This strapping helped a little, although it made it difficult for him to put his boot back on. In the end, he succeeded by sheer force.

  Now all he had to do was wait for an opportune moment. The soldiers would no doubt have a meal, then most of them would bed down for the night somewhere within the castle walls. They weren’t stupid, they would leave someone on guard, but as long as he took them by surprise, it should be possible to take care of one or two men, Brice thought.

  It had to work, because he sure as hell didn’t want to stay here.

  Marsaili felt as if she’d been riding for days and since her behind wasn’t used to it, she was getting sore. There was no point thinking about it, however, because she wasn’t going back until she’d found Brice and rescued him. Quite how she was going to do this, she had no idea. She was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t been too hasty though, setting off on her own like this. There were men in the township who seemed to have accepted Brice and she might have been able to persuade them to help her.

  ‘Well, it’s too late now. I’ll think of something,’ she muttered to herself. If she turned back now, the soldiers would be too far ahead. Once they reached Fort George, there would be no chance of freeing Brice. She gritted her teeth. ‘I’m not letting those accursed Redcoats treat him like a criminal.’

  She had honestly thought the hunt for possible Jacobites and their weapons had come to an end. Most people she knew of were either just getting on with their lives or leaving for the Colonies far across the sea. It had been a long time since she’d heard of any Jacobite plotting and she knew well enough the charges against Brice were false. She was also in no doubt as to who lay behind his arrest. Seton, damn him! He couldn’t have done it without the English captain though, and it seemed this Sherringham fellow was more tenacious than most.

  ‘May he rot in hell as well,’ she whispered. She’d like to have the pair of them horse-whipped.

  At first, she had been riding along the new English road, which she knew made it easier for troops to reach the three forts strung out along the Great Glen to the north. She kept her senses on alert and rounded every bend with caution, but never caught so much as a glimpse of the troop. She guessed they must be travelling a lot faster than she was and they had a head start.

  She continued even after it started to become dark as the moonlight made it easy to follow the wide road. After a while, however, Liath veered off to the right and Marsaili had to peer down at the ground to make sure she didn’t send the ponies straight into a bog. The hound seemed to be following a narrow path, snaking up into the hills, and Marsaili wondered why. She didn’t doubt his sense of smell. The dog looked like he was on a hunt and never wavered. She only hoped he wouldn’t get over-excited if he did catch sight of Brice, thereby giving her away to the enemy.

  ‘Easy, boy,’ she admonished. ‘Be quiet, all right? And slow down!’

  At long last Liath came to a halt and stood sniffing the air, whining softly.

  ‘Good dog,’ Marsaili slid off her pony’s back and patted the hound. ‘You’ve found him? All right, hush now, hush boy.’

  She peered through the darkness and saw what looked like an old ruined keep up ahead. Near a doorway she glimpsed a small fire and now and then people moving in front of it, blocking the light. She led the ponies round to the back of the ruins where she found a copse of trees that had perhaps once been an orchard belonging to the house. She tethered the garrons to a sturdy branch and then grabbed Liath’s collar, setting off up the hill.

  ‘Come on, Liath, let’s see if we can come up with a plan.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brice waited patiently until the sounds from the soldiers became few and far between. Then he waited some more and at last all was quiet apart from the hooting of an owl. He had found a largish stone to sit on, thus sparing him from the mud at the bottom of the pit, but it was uncomfortable and hard. His ankle was throbbing and he knew it was badly sprained. He had a feeling his boot would have to be cut off or else be stuck until the swelling went down.

  ‘Could have been worse,’ he told himself. If he’d broken his leg, he would have had no chance whatsoever of climbing out and escaping. At least now all he had to do was bear the pain.

  When the soldiers had been silent for some time, he began the attempt to ascend the wall. It was hard going, but his arms were strong from climbing the East India ship’s rigging and he knew he could do this. He refused to even contemplate failure. The pain in his ankle sliced through him and all the other cuts and bruises made him suck in a sharp breath each time he moved, but he blocked it out, concentrating on finding hand and footholds. It seemed to take him for ever, especially since he had to stop each time he dislodged a small stone or handful of mortar, in case the noise brought his captors to check on him. Nothing happened.

  He was only about a foot away from being able to reach the top edge when suddenly an eerie howling noise echoed round the surrounding hills. All the soldiers scrambled to their feet, running this way and that, obviously startled out of their slumber. The sound rang out again and seemed to be coming from quite close by. It sent shivers down Brice’s back.

  ‘What in the name of God …?’ he muttered. He hadn’t thought there were any wolves left in Scotland. The Redcoats obviously did, however. To a man, they stampeded outside the castle’s courtyard, shouting and swearing.

  ‘Where is it? Is it coming this way?’

  ‘Shoot it! Over there, I see its evil red eyes!’

  ‘Imbeciles! There are no wolves here.’ That was the captain’s voice, trying to sound firm, but not succeeding very well.

  ‘But sir, you can hear it for yourself.’

  ‘And Houghton saw something moving. There, sir, look.’

  A couple of shots rang out, but the howling continued afterwards. Brice didn’t wait to hear any more. Gathering all his strength, he pulled himself up the last few inches and grabbed hold of the pit’s edge. He heaved his body over the side and rolled quickly away from the hole, into the deep
er shadows of a wall. There, he got to his feet and moved stealthily towards the opening. As he glanced out, he saw the captain and his men all gathered outside the main building, still arguing while the howling went on. The noise seemed to be coming from a different direction now, confusing them and causing more dissension.

  Brice hobbled into the next roofless room and turned left, hoping to find an opening in the back walls of the castle ruin. Just as he rounded the corner, he collided with something soft which emitted a small noise of surprise. Damnation! Why wasn’t this one outside, Brice wondered. He didn’t stop to ask though, instead he pushed the person around and twisted one of his arms up behind him. Brice then put his own hand over his captive’s mouth. The man tried to bite him.

  Brice drew in a harsh breath of surprise and the combined scent of heather and lavender assailed him, making him freeze momentarily. Taking his hand away, he turned the captive round and peered through the darkness. ‘Marsaili?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes. Now let go of me and let’s get out of here,’ she hissed back, giving him an impatient push.

  Brice was so stunned at finding her here, of all places, he did as he was told. He felt her grab his hand and pull him along, back in the direction she’d come from. ‘Is there a way out at the back?’

  ‘Yes, but hurry. Liath won’t keep them occupied for long.’

  ‘Liath? The wolf?’ Brice wanted to laugh out loud, but knew this was neither the time nor the place. He limped after her as fast as he could, once again gritting his teeth against the pain shooting through his ankle every time he set his foot on the ground. She was right, they didn’t have much time.

  A tumbled down stone wall appeared in front of them, the faint moonlight outside showing Brice he had a hill to descend now. He pulled air into his lungs, preparing himself for yet more pain while they clambered over the loose stones. Marsaili set off at a run, with Brice following as fast as he could, half running, half hopping on one leg. He saw her glance over her shoulder and stop to see what was taking him so long, but he motioned her on. If anyone was going to be caught, he didn’t want it to be her.

  Thankfully, there were no cries of ‘prisoner has escaped!’ and at last Brice reached the small copse of trees where Marsaili waited. He was thrilled to find two ponies there as well and sent up a swift prayer of thanks to God. There was no way he could have continued much further on foot.

  ‘What’s wrong with your leg?’ Marsaili whispered.

  ‘Not my leg, twisted ankle. I’ll tell you later.’ He mounted one little horse while Marsaili untied the reins from a branch, then he watched her pull herself onto the other. ‘How do we get Liath back?’

  ‘I’ll whistle for him as soon as we’re halfway down the hill.’

  ‘But the Redcoats will hear you,’ Brice protested. He couldn’t bear the thought of being caught again now he was so close to freedom.

  ‘I doubt it. The sound I’ll make is like that of a small bird. I’ve trained Liath to heed that, as well as a normal whistle.’

  ‘Just like you taught him to howl on command?’ The thought of her doing this amused him and made him realise how strong the bond was between her and the hound.

  ‘Of course. It seemed like harmless fun at the time, I never knew it would come in useful.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s as obedient to your whistling.’

  This proved to be the case and Brice was relieved to see Liath come bounding after them a short while later. He swore he’d give the faithful hound a dozen juicy bones once they were back home again. He deserved that and more. And as for his mistress and her foolhardy rescue mission which could have gone so wrong … well, he’d think about that later.

  ‘Which way?’ he asked as they reached the large road which headed north east towards Inverness.

  ‘Straight across,’ Marsaili said firmly. ‘If they discover you gone, they’ll think you’ve gone back home or to Edinburgh to find help, so we need to throw them off the scent. We’ll take a long route, just to make sure, as high up the hills as possible.’

  ‘Very well, makes sense.’

  Brice urged his pony into a trot and crossed the road, heading what he guessed was south-west. Anywhere was better than the oubliette he’d just left.

  Travelling in the Highlands could be treacherous even in daylight, so Marsaili knew they would have to be careful or they’d end up either falling down a hillside or stuck in a bog. Liath didn’t seem to hesitate, however, so in the end they let him lead them along narrow paths only he could see in the darkness.

  ‘I think we can trust him not to go anywhere unsafe,’ Marsaili said to Brice and he agreed.

  ‘Yes, he seems more intelligent than most hounds.’

  All went well until Marsaili’s pony stumbled on something and began to limp.

  ‘Oh, no! Stop, Brice, I need to check the garron’s hoof.’

  She dismounted and tried to feel the pony’s leg. He shied away from her hands and whinnied, turning to nip at her arm. ‘Hey, none of that, if you don’t mind.’ To Brice she said, ‘I think he’s hurt. I can’t quite see, but it looks like he can’t put much weight on it.’

  ‘Seems to be the night for sprained ankles,’ Brice sighed. ‘Do you think this one can manage to carry both of us? Otherwise we’ll have to take turns walking.’

  ‘I suppose we can try, they’re strong little creatures.’

  ‘Come on then, up you get. We can’t afford to waste time.’

  Brice helped her to mount up behind him and she wrapped one arm firmly around his waist while holding the reins of her own pony with the other.

  ‘I hope he can at least walk without any weight on his back,’ she muttered.

  Brice’s pony carried on, although at a slower pace. At one point he too stumbled, and Marsaili held her breath waiting to see if he’d been hurt, but he seemed fine. Instead she realised she’d heard a grunt from Brice, which made her frown. She squeezed his waist again on purpose and was rewarded with a curt, ‘Don’t!’ Then he seemed to remember his manners and added, ‘Please.’

  ‘Why? Where else are you hurt? Did you fall over when they pulled you along?’ Concern for him flooded through her, giving way to outrage once more at the treatment meted out to him.

  Brice chuckled, but it was a rather strained sound. ‘I ache everywhere,’ he admitted. ‘But I didn’t fall.’

  ‘You mean …?’

  ‘The Redcoats decided to have some sport with me, yes. Before they pushed me into a very deep pit, which is how I came to twist my ankle.’

  ‘Damned whoresons!’

  Brice turned to peer at her through the gloom. ‘Such language!’ he teased, pretending to be shocked. ‘And here was I thinking you were a lady. Tut, tut.’

  ‘I don’t care, it’s what they are,’ she muttered. ‘What gives them the right to treat you like that? They’ve not even proved your guilt yet.’ Which reminded her. ‘You didn’t hide any weapons, did you? I mean, I know your father’s a Jacobite, but you never said …’

  ‘No, I didn’t. That’s not to say I wouldn’t, if my father asked me to, but in this instance, I’m innocent. I have a fairly good idea where they came from though.’

  ‘I know. Seton,’ she spat. ‘He’ll pay for this, so help me God.’ And she told Brice what had happened after his departure.

  Brice groaned. ‘Damn it all, woman, the entire household will know about the secret tunnels soon. Then what will be the point of them?’

  ‘It’s not as if I had a choice,’ she huffed, then heard another chuckle. ‘Oh, you’re teasing me again.’ She punched him lightly on the arm, then remembered his injuries as he drew in a hissing breath. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot.’

  ‘It’s all right, just try to restrain yourself from now on, please.’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t hold onto you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I’m not having you fall off. Besides, I like your hands just where they are. For now.’ Another chuckle.

  Marsaili muttere
d under her breath. ‘Men, hmph.’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t like holding me now? That’s not how it seemed when I came back from market.’ She heard amusement in his voice and wanted to hit him again, but refrained.

  ‘Think what you like. You surprised me, is all.’

  ‘Hmm, long surprise, eh?’

  ‘Hold your tongue, Brice, or I’ll squeeze your ribs again.’

  ‘Promises, promises, never anything else with you, is there,’ he sighed.

  ‘Brice!’ She tried to make her voice sound threatening, but probably didn’t succeed very well since he laughed again. He did stop teasing her though, and she allowed herself to just enjoy holding him tight. His stomach felt hard, yet warm, under her hands and it was very tempting to lay her cheek against his broad back. Eventually she gave in to the urge and didn’t regret it. It was almost as though she belonged there.

  ‘We’ll need to stop soon,’ Brice said eventually. ‘The ponies have had a long day and night and must be very thirsty, as am I. Any suggestions?’

  Marsaili thought for a moment. ‘Shieling huts?’ she ventured. ‘If we go a bit higher up, there ought to be some and they should be empty. Everyone will have brought their kyloes down long since.’

  ‘Good idea. Help me look then.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It took them until the break of dawn, but eventually they came upon a couple of deserted shieling huts. Thankfully, they were also in the lea of a large outcrop of rock which shielded them from view.

  ‘Unless Sherringham has tracker dogs, he’ll never find us here,’ Marsaili said.