The boy hurried off, and Eamon was satisfied that The Scots would be cared for. He didn’t want to see them starve or freeze to death on the eve of battle. He kept silent as Dougal began speaking of happenings in the area, from cattle thieves to murderers. “My men do the best they can, but it is becoming too much for them, I believe. It seems that the unrest is growing. And nae in any small part tae the flyers I have been seeing nailed up in various parts, calling for a new rebellion against the British.”
Eamon’s eyes snapped up to Dougal’s face, and he thought of the young boy, knowing now that Cutler was close. They sat in a small room on the far side of the main hall, and food was brought to them. A woman came and filled their wine glasses as well before scampering off wordlessly. “How recently have ye seen these papers, and where did ye see them?” Eamon asked, and Dougal looked taken aback at such an interruption. “Laird MacManus,” Eamon added quickly and stole a glance at Sean.
Dougal pursed his lips as he watched Eamon thoughtfully. “It has been for a few weeks now, but only in the last day have I seen it as close as a half-day’s journey from here. For some reason, the informant is spreading their news here. Did they nae hear of Culloden? Did they nae see the bloodshed or know what ties we lairds had tae take tae save our clans?” Dougal shook his head, and Eamon almost agreed with him.
The boy was yet young and had not seen enough of life yet to know that sometimes it was simply cruel or even worse. Hopeless. The British had won Culloden and so had tried to squelch every last bit of Highland life from the Northern lands. There were still tiny rebellions, but to call upon a revolution was a strange and mighty thing indeed, even if it did make a fire burn in Eamon’s heart.
“That means Cutler is close, Sean,” Eamon whispered to his brother, and Sean nodded.
Eamon drank his wine while Sean spoke. His fears were growing by the moment, and the thick liquid helped to ease the building tension. “Laird MacManus, I am glad ye too have seen the papers that fill the countryside. It is related tae our reason for coming here. We believe we know who is posting them. We have a warning of someone who comes tae kill.”
Chapter Four
Dougal furrowed his thick eyebrows and said, “What is this, Wanderer? What do you mean?”
“I mean that a Lord Cutler, a nobleman sent by the King, comes to this area tae kill the Scots and me in return for what we have done in the past. The King’s former proxy was killed as well as his nephew, Sir Henry of Shefford, as you know. He comes for revenge, and he will leave nae survivors. We have been told of his coming by my brother and his spy.”
Dougal sighed, but his face remained lined and furrowed. “He comes for ye, lad? And in so doing, he may pass by our clan along the way?”
“Aye, laird, and that is one of the reasons why I call upon ye. We plan tae meet him on his journey so that he will nae find the village nor meet with yer clan lands. But we hoped ye might send men with us as reinforcements.”
Dougal nodded, his lips pursed again.
Eamon waited, looking at Sean, but Sean did not look his way. After a pause, Dougal said, “I would like tae give ye more, but many of my men are gone, collecting taxes from the other parts of our lands. I can only spare ten men at this time.”
Sean smiled. “Thank ye, laird. That will be enough. They are well-prepared tae battle with the British?”
Dougal chuckled. “Aye, they have nae reason tae nae wish an Englishman dead, I can tell ye that. Come men, let us eat, and we will discuss yer plans for battle.”
* * *
Isabelle knelt down behind a section of tall grass in the dark, her heart in her throat. It had been so close tonight, but she was able to nail a few more of the posters to the surrounding trees, closer to village areas, and she had made contact with another spy. Her breasts were aching as they had been pressed hard against her skin so that she appeared more like a man. It had been a busy evening, and she was ready to return to her tent and become herself again.
But some of the men were still awake and roaming about the camp. She tried to quiet her breathing as she waited for a chance to run to her tent. She couldn’t get caught by them. Her father would fly into a rage, and then who knew what he would do to her once he had her in his grasp?
She turned her head back to the camp, and it looked silent for a moment. She could see Loch Ness glinting in the moonlight beyond the tents. The men were simply keeping watch over the area by night. There was a far worse reason why she couldn’t get caught by the men. They might take her for themselves for the evening, threatening to reveal her secret to her father if she did not comply. She would never give a man the chance to take what was not theirs to give, but if she was overpowered, she shuddered to think of the consequences.
In the space of silence, Isabelle stood and ran through the tents, searching for the marker of red ribbon she left on her own tent. They were all the same canvas, and by the dim light of the moon and the fireplaces, she knew it would be hard to find hers and Arya’s tent once more.
There was another crunch of footsteps from the men, and she laid her back flat against the canvas of one tent away from the sound, hoping it wouldn’t make too many ripples in the fabric alerting the occupant inside. The footsteps passed behind her, and she saw the flash of red she had left tied around the tent stake, and she rushed behind its canvas flaps. Inside, Arya was standing pacing around, her blonde hair flying about her. “Mistress! You’ve returned!” She reached out for Isabelle and grabbed her by the arms as if to see if she was real.
“Yes, Arya,” Isabelle breathed, trying to keep her voice quiet. She began to undo the buttons on her waistcoat and said, “Help me, please! I have spent too long in these cloth trappings!”
Arya tsked and helped Isabelle undress and put on her white shift. “I wish you would not take so many risks, Mistress. I keep thinking about what would happen if you were caught, or if your father came looking for you in the night! What could I possibly say?”
Isabelle laid down on the straw mattress on the floor. “You would say what we’ve discussed in the past. That I must have left while you were sleeping, and you were preparing to come and let him know.”
Arya nodded but looked sorrowful, and Isabelle felt guilty. She had been asking her dear friend and lady’s maid, Arya, to help her for many years in her tiny rebellions. Arya had dressed her, covered and distracted others for her, and helped her to remain hidden as she enacted whatever it was she decided to do. It was a true friendship, but Isabelle knew that Arya was still quite young and had not the heart for breaking the rules. Isabelle knew that she was putting Arya into impossible situations.
Sadly, she had no other option. Until she could find a way to rebel openly, she needed Arya to help her. She turned on her side to face her young friend as she laid on her mattress. “Arya, I am sorry to make you worry, but I think you’ll be happy. I put up more posters, and I made contact with the Highlander’s spy.”
“You did? How is that possible?”
Isabelle laughed lightly. “It must have been divine intervention. I was in the middle of nailing a poster to a tree, and a Scottish rider was going by. He stopped to ask me about the posters and who I was with. Once I explained, we were amazed that we both had messages for each other. Eamon, the Highlander I am in contact with, is at the MacManus clan. He is trying to get enough men to fight, but he has only been able to find 26. They plan to move towards the camp tomorrow.”
Arya said, “But your father, he has more than 30 men, all armed with muskets and ruthless hearts.”
Isabelle nodded. “I told the spy as much. Surely we can think of something. Perhaps Eamon can orchestrate a sort of meeting beforehand in order to make terms?”
Arya was grim. “You know your father would never agree to terms.”
Isabelle sighed. She had felt hopeful after meeting Gareth, the Scot, but now, it all seemed to darken before her. Had she just led Eamon into a bloodbath? But what else was she to do? Without him knowing, her father
would have slaughtered his brother and all of The Scots.
Despite the somber tone of their discussion, Isabelle smiled at Arya. “I have hope. These Highlanders are brave, and they persevere.”
Arya smiled back lightly. “I don’t think I understand you quite well, Mistress. It could be that these nightly wanderings and rebellions are getting to your head. You are an Englishwoman, and yet you wish to fight for the freedom of Scottish people, even at the cost of getting caught. Not only that, but I think you might be falling in love with the Highlander you meet with! Your face is all aglow with admiration and concern for his welfare. This cannot be just for the Scottish in general.”
Isabelle sighed and laid back. “It’s not love, Arya. It can’t be. At least not yet. He does not even know who I really am. But there is something about him that calls to me. He is strong, brave, fearless, and he wishes to save his kinsmen. That is honorable, is it not?”
Isabelle’s eyes were eager as she watched Arya’s reaction. Arya sighed and then said, “Yes, it is honorable. But I do wish you wouldn’t get yourself hurt in more ways than you need to be. What would your father think if he heard you speaking thus about a Highlander?”
Isabelle laughed. “He has far worse things to concern himself with, Arya. I just wish that somehow Eamon can find a way to survive tomorrow.” She clasped her hands over her stomach and let her mind wander to the dark hair and impossibly dark eyes of Eamon Wilson.
* * *
Later, after the sun had set, Eamon and Sean stared at the flames of their campfire while the rest of their camp slept. Dougal had given them blankets and tents, and they planted themselves outside the fortress walls, everyone’s mind full of the battle that would rage tomorrow.
“I wish Gareth would return soon. We need tae ken how many men ride with Cutler. Here we have 22, not including us, and then with my men, we will have 26. That may nae be enough.”
Sean nodded, his elbows on his knees and his jaw set with thought. “It is what I feared, brother. But we will have tae make do. We will meet yer men on the morrow then?”
“Aye. I wait for word from them too.” Eamon couldn’t sleep. He knew Sean couldn’t either, while the fate of his newly found life hung in the balance, and so both of them watched as the sun set below the mountains and a heavy darkness settled over the land. While they waited in silence. Eamon wasn’t sure of the time. It could have been minutes or hours, but he almost hoped that the night would be endless so that he wouldn’t have to bring these men into battle.
After a long while, Eamon said, “Sean, I know ye dinnae forgive me for what I did many years ago. I can never release myself from that guilt, but I am glad tae go intae battle with ye tomorrow. There is naeone else I would wish tae have by my side.”
He waited, his hands in fists as he let the words float out into the darkness. His brother remained stoic as he watched the fire. Once he began to speak, Sean did not lift his eyes to Eamon. “I only wish that I could say the same, brother. That is the fear that rages in my chest. I cannae deny that I am glad tae see ye again after all these years, but how do I ken that ye willnae desert me when the sun rises, and the battle is before us?”
Eamon looked down. The moment had finally come for the conversation he had envisioned in his mind for so many years. In his imagination, it had gone a myriad of ways, and he thought he was prepared for whatever Sean would say in return, but even still, Sean’s words cut him deeply. The old guilt resurfaced with a vengeance.
While it had always lingered, now it came back afresh, pulsating with pain inside of him. Why had he fled? That question had filled his mind for years afterward, and he had tried to harden himself to the past, but he found he could not. It was so long ago. It felt like he was a completely different person then. He knew that he would not run now, but how did Sean know? And how could he prove it to him?
He cleared his throat, finding it slightly thicker after Sean’s stark words. “Ye are right tae doubt me, brother. I can only say I am sorry for the past. I was a fool, and I have regretted it every day. But I have come tae ye now, and I wish tae prove tae ye by my actions that ye can trust me. I would put myself in the line of fire for ye, brother, and yer new life away from all this.”
He watched Sean’s face, his eyes pleading for him to look up and see the truth in them. Sean did, and a moment passed between them. He knew his brother was still wary, but Eamon felt that he would be given a chance. Sean sighed. “I suppose I dinnae have any choice. It was a long time ago when ye fled our home once the other Scotsmen came. Father is dead now, and so is my wife and child, but it was nae solely because of ye. Anger burns in me against ye, Eamon, though. I dinnae ken that I can relinquish it.”
Eamon nodded. “I ken. I dinnae ask ye tae do so. I only ask that ye dinnae send me away if we are successful against Cutler. I want tae be near. I want tae meet yer child. Give me that chance, brother.”
Sean’s jaw clenched, and tiny movements crossed over his face as he digested Eamon’s words. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of horse’s hooves entering their tiny encampment interrupted him. Both Sean and Eamon stood and clasped their swords, peering into the dark. Then he spotted the figure of Gareth hurriedly dismounting and moving towards the men.
“Sean,” he breathed hurriedly. “Eamon. I have met with the spy.”
Eamon clasped onto the man and laughed with glee. “Ye are brilliant, lad! Tell me everything!”
Gareth kept trying to catch his breath. “I have never ridden so fast. My head spins.”
“Come now, this is urgent business.”
Gareth nodded. “I have met with yer men at the tavern. They will meet ye come morning as we pass by. As for the spy, I met him while he was in the act of nailing up the posters.”
Sean turned to Eamon, “So ye were right. It is yer spy who asks for treason.”
Eamon nodded, satisfied that his theory had been correct, and so relieved that the boy had been out at just the right time. He knew Sean’s man could find his men, but he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to find the spy.
“The spy says that Cutler comes with over 30 men, some of them redcoats. They camp on the Loch taenight and will ride taemorrow just as we do. The spy worries that ye may nae have the numbers.”
Eamon sat down. His fears had been realized. “26 against more than 30? All armed with muskets?” The hopelessness in his voice was evident, and to his surprise, Sean chimed in.
“It is still possible. If we attack from the sides, hidden in the forest with bows and arrows as we planned.”
Gareth said again, “And I agreed with the boy that we will meet at the same place taenight if something changes.”
Out of the darkness, an unfamiliar voice arose. “What is this? 26 against more than 30 Englishmen with their fiery weapons at their sides? Nae, we willnae do this. It is certain death!” The voice called from the side of the fortress, and to his dread, Eamon could hear others around him stirring from their beds. He knew it would put fear into their hearts, and they might wish to turn back as Sean had predicted.
The man stomped forward, and then his face was in the light of the fire. He wore the colors of the MacManus. “Our laird would never allow us tae go nae when a brutal man comes tae slaughter ye all. We had nae idea of the numbers we fight against, and it is all for ye! We thought only it was tae kill a few Englishmen. But this…” He shook his head and rushed back to the castle.
“He goes tae tell Dougal, nae doubt,” Gareth said, resignation in his voice.
“Aye. I was afraid this would happen. The numbers are too much for us.”
The rest of the camp had awoken because of the raised voices and were moving towards the lone firelight. Sean turned to Eamon. “I am sorry, brother, but many of them may have tae turn back if MacManus’s men will nae join us. We may need tae think of a new plan.”
Chapter Five
Early the next morning, Dougal MacManus did his best to look apologetic as he stood by the men on the outski
rts of the fortress. “I cannae afford tae lose the men when the numbers are as dire as these. I thought on it last night in bed, and then when I heard my man’s news, I ken I couldnae give them tae ye. If Cutler’s men come here, then we will be left unarmed entirely with the others off in other parts of the country.”
Eamon and Sean nodded in understanding. Inwardly, Eamon was cursing his desire to hear from the spy last night. They could have gone and attacked Cutler’s men in secret. Even if they would not have succeeded, at least they would have killed many of the English men. That would have counted for something. Now, they were at a loss with hardly any fighters by their side after they’d run off in fear. If it wasn’t so dire, he could have smiled at the way he cursed MacManus for the very same thing he had done and to his own family.
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 4