by Jane Yolen
Which one, I puzzled, is the true prince and which only a wooden copy? And would any of us know the difference?
The prince got up and nodded to me. “One day,” he said, “I hope to see you a captain in my army.”
“A captain,” I mused aloud, and he seemed satisfied with that.
Then he walked over to Lochiel and Archie, finding a spot by them where the stones were not too hard.
A captain, I thought, as I lay down and folded myself up in my plaid and slept. I dreamed I was wearing a bright blue uniform decorated with gold piping. I wore a wig like a gentleman, and a three-cornered hat with a white cockade pinned on. My sword was a gentleman’s sword, with a basket hilt and watering down the blade. I had a sken dhu in my stocking, not a poor man’s dirk, and it, too, was made of the finest steel. A musket poked its handle from my belt.
I woke suddenly and found myself staring up at a sky full of stars, thinking: It’s fine to be a captain in the army, as long as there’s no war.
37 GLENROY
Angus and McNab had us up before dawn. “Up, lads, up,” they said. “Before the redcoats wake.”
A mouthful of oatmeal stirred in a cup of cold water was all the breakfast we had time for before we were clambering once again over heather-clad hills. This was to be the last leg of our journey; the weight of it—and the hope—kept us all from speaking.
When we came over the top of one hill, we could see the River Roy below us. The crimson glow of daybreak shimmering on the running water had turned it bloodred, like a river in one of the old ballads.
I hoped it wasn’t an omen, and shivered at the thought.
Once we’d reached the riverbank, Angus Ban paused, looking about carefully. “We canna stay out here in the open.” He turned to me. “This is yer country, lad. Show us the way.”
It was true. I was home.
“This way,” I told them, pointing. “There’s the best place to cross. Over the rocks, beneath that outcropping.”
I took them to a spot a quarter mile upriver, where a natural fortress of stone guarded the ford. A series of flat rocks made a path across the river and a man could follow them step by step to the other side without so much as wetting his feet. Even for the limping Lochiel the going would prove easy. It fact it was an easier passage than many we’d had up till that time.
“I dinna like it,” Iain said. “We’re too exposed to any soldier on the hills. Let me go first to draw any fire.”
“Do it,” Angus Ban said.
So Iain went across, but though we watched the hills carefully, there was no movement, no flashes of light. Still, we each looked around before making the crossing and I went last. As soon as we reached the far bank, Angus Ban hurried us on brusquely.
“Have a care, Keppoch!” the prince chided him. “The gentle Lochiel still bears the wounds taken in our cause. The poor man can go no faster.”
I saw Angus Ban bite back an impolite reply. “Yer pardon,” he said. “I was only thinking of Yer Highness’ safety.” He pointed to the surrounding hills. “There may be eyes everywhere. We do not have time to tarry now. It is more open here, more dangerous.”
It was a reverse of their argument a day before, with the prince cautioning us to slow down, and Angus Ban pushing us forward with haste. They were both right, of course. We had little time to spare. But we needed Lochiel well enough to travel. And there just might be English soldiers hidden among the crags or tucked down in the bracken and heather. They’d been there only days before, burning Keppoch House.
I glanced around at the familiar hillsides, my eyes alert to any movement, but I saw no sign of redcoats anywhere. “Sir, it seems safe to me.”
The prince waved his hand at the glen. “See, dear Keppoch—Lord Loudon’s men are still abed. We have plenty of time.”
“Haste is still the wisest course,” said Angus Ban, drumming his fingers on the butt of his pistol. “They’ll awake before long, and there is nae telling where they have set their cordons.”
“And we still have a long ways to go before—” I began.
Just then something exploded from the undergrowth. Startled, we all scattered for the trees before we realized it was only a dusky-coated deer, its hooves drumming on the ground. After it came a second, smaller deer.
My heart was nearly bursting my chest.
The prince was first out from behind his tree, chuckling to himself. “I take your meaning, Angus. No need for such a demonstration.”
We all laughed, but quietly.
“This way,” I said, once my heart stopped hammering. I pointed up the hill where a narrow path led through some trees.
“Good start,” Angus Ban said. “The path, not the deer.”
We climbed up the far slope, winding past the rock fortress, clearly going too slowly for Angus Ban’s liking. I could read his face now, and his lips had thinned down, a sure sign he was upset. But Prince Charlie was strolling up the trail casually, chatting with Lochiel and Archie, admiring the scenic glen. He had such a confident air, as if he were already safe on the deck of a French ship. Angus Ban, who was next to Cluny and me, shook his head and made a tch sound with his tongue. Then he went back to chivy them along.
I had moved closer to Cluny’s side at the head of our little company, and we’d just left the shelter of trees under the grey sky and come upon an open heather- and rock-strewn hilltop. He drew a sharp intake of breath.
“Damn!” he swore, and whipped out his pistol, cocking it in the same movement. Then he turned around and shouted to the prince and Angus Ban and Lochiel and the others, “Fly! Fly! We are discovered!”
I turned to my left and saw what had alarmed him. On a hill down below us, to the west of where we stood, a party of redcoats was just topping the summit. Their scarlet uniforms made them easy to spot. Their captain had seen us as well, though in our dark plaids we would have been less easy to find. He was crying “Halloo!” to bestir the rest of his men, who must have still been out of sight over the brow of the hill.
The prince stumbled, then paused to straighten his wig and bonnet. The rest of our party surrounded him, to shield him from the sassanachs’ view. If they only thought they had rebels to chase, they might just come after us in a haphazard manner. But if they knew it was the prince, they’d race over the hills and never stop.
I had to think fast. If we went back into the sheltering trees, we could only go down and perhaps meet the soldiers coming up. Yet to make our way over the slope of the open hill, skirting heather and rocky scree, gave us no cover. But over the next hill stood our shieling. And from there, I could lead us all to safety. I was sure of it.
“Follow me,” I cried, and began a scramble up the hill, staying as low as possible. They followed right behind me.
Now on the brow of the distant hill, the redcoats set their muskets to their shoulders and fired raggedly, without time for a straight and ordered battle line. At this distance, they had little chance of hitting us, but the noise of their guns would surely summon any other soldiers in the area.
“Hurry!” Angus Ban cried, though none of us needed urging.
One of the McPherson men stopped to turn and shoot back. Cluny slapped him about the head and pushed him on. “Yer wasting good powder!” he growled.
“We have to get over the brow of this hill!” I cried, and Angus Ban nodded, herding us on with a frantic wave of his pistol.
We passed swiftly over the crest so our pursuers couldn’t get a clear shot at us, then we huddled all together for a quick plan.
“Which way now?” McNab was panting heavily. The question was for me.
Before I could catch my breath and answer, another shot rang out.
I searched behind to see how the redcoats had managed to close so quickly, but it was Archie who saw where the shot had come from.
“There! There!” he cried, pointing.
A second squad of sassanachs was making its way along the hilltops from the other direction, from the north. The
soldiers outnumbered us by a dozen or so.
“We’ve fallen into a trap!” Lochiel exclaimed.
The prince drew his sword and pistol and shook them resolutely. “I’ll fight on till they kill me,” he declared. “I’ll not let them take me prisoner.”
I pulled out my dirk. “Nor I,” I said, the captain by his king.
38 THE GLOAMING POOL
I was sweating now and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. We had soldiers on either side of us.
Angus Ban faced the prince squarely, determination writ large on his homely face. “It’s best no to die at all when there’s nae call for it,” he said. Turning to Cluny, he added, “Ye and yer boys hold off the ones on our tail. The rest of us will mix shots with the others, then lead them off.”
“Aye, we’ll give them a fight,” Cluny agreed.
Angus Ban turned back to me and said sharply, “Duncan, ye know these hills better than any of us. While we keep the redcoats off yer backs, ye must lead the prince to safety.”
To safety? When there was none?
“Will ye try, lad?” Angus Ban said.
“I’ll try.”
Placing a hand on my shoulder, Angus Ban’s tone softened. “Duncan, keep him safe. All Scotland is depending on ye.”
I nodded, but my heart was suddenly racing.
“It is not in me to leave the rest of you fighting in my stead,” said the prince.
“If anything happens to ye, then we’re fighting for naught,” said Angus Ban. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can, then we’ll make a run for it. We can outrun these sassanachs easily.” It was a boast, of course, but true.
Lochiel added, “The English can march and turn, but there’s nothing for speed like a Highlander on his own hills, sir.” Then he smiled, and all the weariness on his handsome face disappeared. “Ye know the cove on Loch Lochy?”
“I know it,” said Prince Charlie. “I’ll look to see you there.”
“Tomorrow eve at the latest,” Lochiel said.
“It is done,” the prince said. He offered his hand first to Lochiel, then Angus Ban, and they shook like parting friends. Just in case, I thought, he might be saying a last farewell.
“Come on, sir,” I said, tugging at his sleeve.
This time he was the one to wipe the mist from his face.
Cluny and his men took up positions among the boulders on the slope behind us, aiming down the length of their muskets. A shot rang out and then a second, but we were doing the firing, not the English. A small breeze brought me the acrid smell of gunpowder and I was suddenly, horribly reminded of Culloden.
I said a small prayer under my breath.
Angus Ban grinned. “That old poacher will show them a thing or two.” He nodded at me. “We’re off, lad. Now the prince is yers.” Without more ado, he and the others turned and went back over the hill to face the troops who were closing from the north.
“Come, sir,” I said to the prince. “Follow me.” Then, crouching low so we were masked by the heather, we left our companions to fight. “Dinna worry, sir,” I said over my shoulder. “These are the very hills where my father’s cattle graze. I know every track and trail.”
We crawled further through the heather, the little purple flowers grazing against our shoulders. “With luck,” I called back to him, “the redcoats will be too busy dodging bullets to see us separating from the rest.”
“With luck,” he repeated.
“Here’s a track I know well, sir, along this waterfall course. The small trees will hide us till we get over the next hill.”
We rested for a moment under the trees. Behind us we could hear shots being exchanged.
I spoke more boldly than I felt. It was true, I knew these hills. But I also knew they wouldn’t hide us for very long. They were too open. We needed the cover of real trees. “Hurry, sir.”
We continued up the waterfall, our feet splashing through the pools, but the trees got even sparser as we neared the top. Their straggly branches seemed to be pointing at us like traitorous fingers.
“Only a little further, sir,” I called, encouraging us both, but we would soon be out in the open again. “Then a quick run over the hilltop and into my family’s shieling.”
“Shieling?”
“The summer meadow where we bring our cows, sir.”
“You do know this country,” he said.
We ran with our heads down as if a demon horde were behind us. As we ran, I could still hear the crack of firearms echoing over the hillsides, and I glanced back to see if there was any sign of our companions. But there was no movement at all, except for some buzzards flying lazily overhead.
Then we crested the hill and made it down the other side. Standing under a stunted pine, we tried to catch our breaths.
“See, Yer Majesty,” I said, when I could speak again, “now we have the whole hill between us and the others.”
“God keep our friends safe,” said the prince, making the sign of the cross over his breast.
I repeated his prayer to myself, thinking at the same time of all those who hadn’t been kept safe: Ewan and his da; the Keppoch; Sandy, the man with the white eye; all the Highlanders facedown in the mud of Drummossie Moor; and those burned up in the hut where the Keppoch lay. I tried not to think of them because thinking made me angry at the prince. Now I liked him and now I needed to keep him safe. But that didn’t stop me from keeping a running tally of the dead as we walked along the shieling.
“Where do we go now?” he asked.
“Down this path”—I pointed—“lies our village. But before we get there, there’s a cutoff that goes west.”
“And west,” he mused, “is Loch Lochy.”
I thought about Loch Lochy and how I’d leave the prince there and return home. Home, I thought, suddenly wondering if Ma and Da were worried about me. If they’d given up on me. If they’d gone looking for me. And because I let my thoughts go wandering off, I nearly got us killed.
As we rounded a bend where my cows had often strayed, well past the Gloaming Pool, we found ourselves suddenly confronted by three burly redcoats. They appeared without warning on the path below us, about a hundred feet away.
Immediately, the tallest soldier spotted the prince’s sword and pistol and cried out, “What! Hoi! Rebels!”
The nearest of them had a pair of rabbits slung over his shoulder and I guessed they had risen early to go foraging for game. At the sight of us, the near one shrugged off the rabbits and raised his musket, pulling back the hammer as he did so.
I lunged at the prince and gave him a shove as the gun cracked the air. The bullet tore through my left sleeve and cut across my arm like a hot blade.
For an instant, I reeled back with the shock of it. I wanted to shout to the prince to run, but my teeth had clenched with the pain and I couldn’t seem to unlock them. As I swayed, a firm hand grabbed my arm and hauled me back up the slope.
“Come, young MacDonald,” the prince urged, “you’re not done with me yet.” The courage in his voice lent me fresh strength and I hurried with him.
“One side there, Hawks!” barked another of the soldiers. “Let me get a clear shot!”
A second musket boomed out, but in his haste the man had aimed wide.
“Come, sir,” I called to the prince, taking over the lead. We clawed up the heathery slope. Scraping through the brambles, I cut my palms on jagged pieces of flint, but it hardly mattered. I could barely remember the pain from that shot along my arm. I had no time for it. We had no time for it.
A third musket fired and I heard the smack of a bullet on a nearby rock.
“Which way, lad? Which way?” the prince demanded urgently as we scrambled over the crest of the hill.
“Just follow me.” I could only think of one route of escape, the last place in the world I wanted to go.
Not taking time to reload, the redcoats had shouldered their guns and were now climbing up after us. They couldn’t be more than a coupl
e of hundred feet behind us.
“Over there!” I gasped. “That copse of trees.”
We bolted through the trees, glad to put something between our backs and the guns of our enemies.
“Where to now?”
“I know the very spot,” I said, breaking into a run once again. The prince kept pace with me, though he almost lost his bonnet and wig as we ran. “But we’ll have to keep ahead of them for a bit longer.”
“Go, lad, and I will follow,” he said.
Then we were both quiet, saving our breath for the run.
Another musket boomed somewhere behind us. The redcoats must have stopped to reload. Every reload gave us extra time.
“Where is this place?” the prince gasped. “Is it soon?”
“Ahead,” I replied as we sprinted up a steep rise.
We threw ourselves over the top and went sliding down the scree on the far side. Waiting below us was the one thing that might yet save us: the still, grey, peaty waters of the Gloaming Pool.
“What are we doing here?” the prince asked, his voice rising in confusion. “There’s no cover. They’ll see us as soon as they top the rise.”
“Nae,” I said, pulling him by the sleeve, which—in any other circumstance—could have cost me my head. “Just come with me.” I dragged him over to where the hollow reeds grew.
Grabbing two reeds, I tugged them out. “We’ll hide under the water. Ye can breathe through this.” I handed him a reed and stepped into the pool, wading out to where it was deep enough to hide us, in a patch of other reeds.
Prince Charlie followed. “I understand,” he said. “It’s a desperate game, but perhaps the gamble will win.” Quickly, he took his bonnet and wig off, stuffing them down the front of his shirt. “And I suppose we’re as well drowned as shot.”