“Still, at least we havena got Mirabel to bugger things up for us,” said Kenneth to mutters of agreement.
“No, that’s true,” said Alex. “It was a damn shame that Grant was killed. It was down to his planning that Lochiel took Fort Augustus so easily. Wi’ Mirabel directing the siege at Fort William, the Camerons’ll have died of old age before they get in.”
“So will we,” said Robbie Og, who was feeling depressed again, having spent the whole day trying unsuccessfully to avoid digging a trench. He flexed his shoulders, which were stiffening from the unaccustomed work.
“No we willna,” said Alex. “We’ll starve them out soon. Or freeze them out. They havena got any fuel and their food’s running short.”
“So’s ours,” moaned Robbie, determined to persist in his dour mood.
“No’ while there’s coneys daft enough to pop their heads up in my sight,” said Angus, smiling. “Cheer up, man. Ye’ll no’ have any digging to do the morrow.”
“Are ye sure?” said Robbie, perking up. Maybe he’d get a chance to fire the cannon, or take pot-shots at the windows whenever anyone appeared.
“Aye. Tomorrow ye get to guard them all day, in the rain,” said Angus mischievously.
This time Robbie’s gloom could not be alleviated, even when he found a particularly large chunk of rabbit meat in his bowl, placed there by Beth who felt sorry for the boy. Even if he was lazy, he was very young, and put up with the constant ribbing good-humouredly most of the time.
Robbie did not in the end have to guard the newly-dug trenches all day. The next morning an urgent message arrived from the convalescing Prince Charles, calling all the men back to Inverness as fast as they could ride or walk. Similar messages had been sent to Lochiel at Fort William and the MacGregors in the north. Intelligence had been received that the Duke of Cumberland’s army, numbering some nine thousand, was about to move out of Aberdeen. The prince, with only three thousand men in Inverness, needed reinforcements, and fast.
As they marched north at breakneck pace, the mood of the men was still buoyant. Although they had not succeeded in taking Blair Castle, the month of March had been one of unmitigated success for the Jacobites. They had captured nearly all their objectives, and had taken hundreds of prisoners. Their ranks had been swelled by new recruits. Lord George was now convinced that a well-managed spring campaign could retake Scotland for the Stuarts. Anything was possible.
Of all the men, perhaps the one with the widest grin was Iain. Once they were in sight of Inverness Maggie told him her good news. It seemed Sarah had been right when she had commented on that tragic night last year, that once Maggie’s womb knew what it was there for, she would be pregnant every year. This time, she promised the anxious father-to-be, she would rest if she felt tired. And yes, she would go home as soon as it was practical to do so. No, she did not feel tired now. In fact she had never felt better.
Beth, walking behind the couple as they conversed, Iain’s arm wrapped protectively round his wife’s waist, smiled sadly to herself and wondered when her own womb would realise what it was there for. Or if it ever would.
* * *
Inverness April 15th, 1746
“It’s a good idea,” Alex said defensively. “Better than waiting around for him to come to us.”
If March had been an unmitigated success for the Jacobites, April seemed to hold nothing but disaster. The MacGregors had arrived back at Inverness to discover that the food shortage was universal, and what bread and meal there was was being inadequately distributed, since Broughton had fallen ill and the inexperienced John Hay of Restalrig had taken over his secretarial duties. Everyone was on half rations, murmurs of discontent filled the air, and Alex, being a council member knew, as the men did not, that Charles and Lord George could not agree on a suitable battlefield for the Jacobite forces to fight the rapidly advancing Duke of Cumberland, now situated at Nairn, a mere twelve miles away, where it was hoped he was celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday in style.
Beth looked at the gaunt, tired face of her husband and putting down her hairbrush, got up from the boulder she’d been sitting on and moved into his arms.
“But you’re so tired,” she said, “standing on Drumossie Moor all day, waiting for Cumberland. And hungry too,” she added as his stomach rumbled.
“Aye, well, be glad we didna go wi’ Lochiel to Fort William,” said Alex. “The poor Camerons are in a much worse state than us.”
While Lord George and his troops had arrived back at Inverness several days before, Lochiel and his men, with much further to come, had only arrived in Inverness the previous day after a fifty mile march over the hills, to find themselves having to assemble in full battle order almost immediately. Many of the clans were still on their way and the current muster of men in Inverness amounted to no more than four and a half thousand.
“You’ll be walking with the Camerons, if you do this,” she reminded him.
“We havena a choice, I think,” he said. “This is the best chance we’ll get, surprising Cumberland. He willna expect us to march on him. It worked at Prestonpans and Falkirk. And we have to do something, Beth. There’s a few days supply of food left. After that the men will have to disperse or starve, and Cumberland will have won.”
Better that than all be killed now, Beth thought, but could not say. It would make no difference, and Alex did not need a Job’s comforter at this time. He knew how desperate the situation was without her reminding him of it.
“What exactly are you going to do, then?” she asked.
He smiled and wound a lock of her hair around his finger. He knew exactly what she was attempting, and went along with it.
“We light a lot of fires on the hill here, which you and the other women can tend to make it look as though we’re camped here. And then we set off over the moor, through Culraik Wood, and then over the ridge and down to Nairn. If we make good time we’ll be on them around one or two in the morning and can attack them while they’re asleep. Wi’ luck they’ll have been celebrating Cumberland’s birthday and be a wee bit drunk as well. Even if they’re no’ drunk or asleep we’ll still have the advantage of surprise, and our spies tell us that the infantry and the cavalry have separate encampments, so they willna be able to support each other. It’s a good plan, Beth.”
It did seem a good plan. Better than standing on Drumossie Moor waiting to be slaughtered by nine thousand well-rested and well-fed Hanoverians. But he was still so tired, and hungry. And he could still be killed, even if the battle was won. But that is the way of war, she told herself. It was a woman’s job to boost the men’s spirits, and tend their wounds afterwards. She had known that when she had accompanied him into the rebellion. But knowing it was one thing. Living it was much harder. Impulsively she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. His hand was large and warm on her back, and then was suddenly moving lower, pulling her against him.
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked softly, bending his head to kiss her forehead. She turned her face up to his and met his eyes, dark with sudden arousal. He kissed the tip of her nose, then wound his fingers in her hair and bent his lips to hers.
“You need to save your energy,” she said shakily a minute later, when she could. “And there are too many people around.”
They were standing in the middle of the encampment on Drumossie Moor, where the men were starting to build the fires, pulling up the heather and anything else they could find that would burn. Alex looked around, then came to a decision. Lifting her off her feet, he strode across the moor, jumping over a ditch and coming to a halt behind a small clump of gorse bushes.
“There,” he said, placing her on her feet before taking off his plaid and laying it on the ground. “It’s no’ ideal, but it’ll suffice. I doubt we’ll be disturbed, and if we are, it doesna matter. We are married, after all.”
“I know,” she said. “And you’re still tired. You should be saving your energy…�
��
“The day I havena got the energy to make love to my wife is the day I’ll be ready to die,” he said, drawing her down to the ground and grinning. “But if ye want, I’ll be quick. Will that satisfy ye?”
He wasn’t quick, but it did satisfy her. For the rest of her life she would remember that evening, as the first stars rose in the darkening sky, sparkling in the branches of the gorse bushes that scantily shielded them from view. She would remember the strength and tenderness of his hands as he undressed her, the slight rasp of his day-old beard as he nuzzled into her setting her body on fire for him, and the fall of his chestnut hair soft on her cheek as he came breathlessly to his climax. In the distance there was laughter and the sudden skirl of the pipes. Here there was only the two of them, his body warm and heavy on hers, the clean smell of linen and wool, the musky tang of sweat and sex. She wished desperately that they could stay like this forever, just the two of them, safe from the world and all its horrors.
After a time he rolled carefully on to his side, taking her with him so they were still joined, their legs entangled, her face pressed against his chest listening to his heartbeat slow from its frantic pounding to a more measured, soothing beat.
“Tha gràdh agam ort, mo chridhe,” he said softly.
“I know,” she replied, turning her face up to his. His eyes, lit by the fires which were now blazing all over the moor, were a hazy slate-blue, his long lashes casting small shadows on his cheeks as he blinked and smiled at her. “I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else,” she said. “I couldn’t bear it if…”
She stopped and looked away before she could say the words that would be tempting fate. He put his finger under her chin, forcing her to look back at him.
“You’ll no’ lose me, Beth,” he said gently. “Tend the fires and wait, and I’ll come back to you the morrow.”
They tended the fires and waited while their men, in a long hungry line, fortified by only one biscuit throughout the whole day, marched off to Nairn. Incredibly, they were full of enthusiasm, and would have been laughing if there was not a need to remain as quiet as possible. This was the sort of thing they enjoyed. Activity, and a fight at the end of it. True, it would be better if they’d had a good meal and a few hours sleep, but they had all been on raids before where sleep and food were in short supply. And the reward would be well worth it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They returned the following morning and the moment Beth saw them coming across the moor, covered in mud and dragging their feet in their despondency and fatigue, she knew that things had not gone well. Alex dropped to the ground beside her as though unable to stand any more, and held his hands out to the fire to warm them. The other men followed suit, many of them lying down where they dropped and falling immediately asleep.
“What happened?” asked Beth in a low voice, although she could have bellowed at the top of her lungs without disturbing the men’s slumbers.
Alex rubbed his hand over his face to try to rouse himself. His eyes when he turned to her were red-rimmed with exhaustion.
“We never got there,” he said. “We were at the front wi’ Lord George and the Camerons, but it took a lot longer than we thought it would. We had to make detours round the farms and wee houses so that no one would see us and run off to alert Cumberland. And then we kept getting messages from behind, asking us to wait a while until the others caught up. We hadna thought of the fact that the Irish Piquets and the French under Drummond wouldna be used to this sort of night march. We’ve had years of experience at this sort of thing, wi’ reiving and suchlike, but they havena, and the fog didna help either. Anyway, they couldna keep up wi’ us and by the time we were about half way there we realised that if we waited for the rest, we’d never get to Nairn before daybreak.”
He sighed and wrapped his arm around Beth’s shoulder, pulling her in close against him. Angus, who had been staring glassily into space, now gave up the struggle to stay awake, and drawing his plaid over his head, curled up at his brother’s feet and went to sleep. Alex gazed into the fire for a moment.
“So Lord George called all the chiefs that were nearby together, and we all agreed that even though the van could get there in plenty of time, we’d only be about twelve hundred men and even wi’ surprise on our side we couldna beat the whole of Cumberland’s army. And if we waited for the rest to catch up, it’d be full daylight and we’d be massacred anyway, for they’ve twice our number, and they’d be fresh. We had no choice. We had to come back. Only O’Sullivan was in favour of going on, the bloody loon.”
“I’ll bet Charles was pleased,” Beth said.
Alex laughed hollowly.
“Aye. Lord George sent Lochiel wi’ the message, because Charles respects him and he thought he’d take the news better from a friend. O’Sullivan went wi’ him. Charles sent O’Sullivan and the Duke of Perth back to reason wi’ Lord George, but as soon as they got there Perth could see it was hopeless, so we turned back. The only reason O’Sullivan wanted to go on was because he kent that was what Charles wanted. That’s the problem now. Charles is surrounded by too many men who tell him what he wants to hear and no’ what he needs to hear.”
During this monologue Alex, without realising it, had been slowly leaning into Beth, until she could no longer support his weight.
“Alex, for God’s sake get some sleep,” she said.
He jerked, pulled himself upright with an effort, and immediately started to slump again.
“Aye,” he said. “I’ll have to. I’ll have a few hours, then I’ll go to Inverness and get us some food. Wi’ a full stomach and a good night’s sleep we can still beat Cumberland tomorrow, if we fight over there.”
He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the river then slid sideways, landing with his head in Beth’s lap, and was immediately asleep. Beth looked across at Maggie, the only other person still awake. She was surveying the sleeping MacGregors all around her with troubled green eyes, then she turned to gaze across the moor where the men were lying in huddled mounds everywhere, overcome by fatigue and hunger. Finally she looked back at Beth and then scrambled to her feet and picked her way over the bodies to Beth’s side.
“Ye stay here and watch over them a wee while,” she said. “I’ll away off and see if I can find some food for when they wake.” She placed her hand on Beth’s shoulder and squeezed it, then she turned and was gone, but not before Beth had seen the glitter of tears in her eyes.
She swallowed back her own and looked down instead at her husband. She had never seen him sleep this deeply before. Normally he slept like a cat, maintaining an awareness of his surroundings, and would wake at the slightest unfamiliar noise. But now he slept with all the trusting abandon of a small child, sprawled on the rough grass, his arm flung out to the side, long fingers loosely curled. Gently she brushed the hair back off his face, smiling at the impossibly long thick lashes she was so envious of, now resting softly against his cheek, and at the dimple which he had taken such pains to hide when he’d been Sir Anthony. His resemblance to Angus was even more marked now that he was completely relaxed, the tension lines etched by the burden of chieftainship temporarily erased by deep slumber. Now, more than at any previous time, she could easily imagine the small child he had once been, running barelegged through the hills, laughing and tussling with Duncan, who was now sleeping as deeply as the rest of the men a few yards away. Her heart contracted with love, not just for Alex but for all of them, and the pain was almost physical.
After a while it started to drizzle, and unclasping her plaid from round her shoulders Beth pulled it over her head, huddling over Alex and making a small shelter of it with her arms so that the raindrops would not fall on his face and disturb him. The corners of his mouth turned up in a brief smile and he sighed softly, turning onto his side before settling again, his head still on her knee. It was a wonder to see all this strength, of mind and body, rendered so childlike and vulnerable by sleep. She smiled, and then the t
ears came, sliding silently down her cheeks as she kept watch over him.
* * *
Prince Charles, in spite of having spent the night of the fourteenth making battle plans, and the night of the fifteenth on the abortive march to Nairn, did not go to bed on arriving back at Drumossie Moor shortly before dawn on the sixteenth, but instead, aware of the desperate need of his men for food, rode straight for Inverness. Once there, he cajoled, pleaded, and finally threatened to burn the town if they did not get waggons of food to Drumossie Moor immediately. Then he rode back, reeling in the saddle, to Culloden House at the northern edge of the moor, to be confronted by Lord George Murray demanding that they discuss what was to be done next.
“It seems to me that we have three choices, Your Highness,” he began before they had even finished walking across the hall into the library, where Charles flung himself into a chair. Lord George remained standing. If he sat down, he would sleep, and there was no time for that now.
“We can go back to Inverness, where the stores are,” he continued. “It wouldna be difficult, wi’ the men we have, to barricade it. We could force Cumberland to a siege he canna maintain, and if he tries to storm the town we could decimate them.” He paused for a moment to await the prince’s response to this suggestion, and when none came he glanced briefly at the young man to ensure he was still awake before continuing.
“Or we could melt away into the mountains,” he said. “Many of the men live only a day or so away from here. They ken the territory, and if Cumberland tries to come after us he’ll lose his supply lines. Then we can reform again in the spring. That’ll give a chance for the other men to get back, and we can drum up more recruits, too. We could put at least ten thousand in the field by the end of next month, I think.”
“We can’t,” said Charles, speaking now for the first time. His voice was thick and slurred with fatigue. “We don’t have enough food at Inverness to feed the army through a siege. And the men are too hungry to fight their way back home. I can’t pay them, and I don’t believe they’ll come back in a month unless I can. It’s my view that we must stand and fight. If we don’t, it’s over.”
The Storm Breaks (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 4) Page 32