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Achnacarry, Saturday 22nd May
Roused from a deep slumber by the sound of an urgent knocking on the door, Alex at first had no idea where he was. This was so unusual for him that he felt an unaccustomed panic clutch at his chest. He sat up, heart banging, then felt the pain start up in his leg, and suddenly his mind cleared and he knew he was at Lochiel’s, that he had just had his first deep sleep since regaining consciousness after Culloden, and that it was still dark, so must be very early in the morning.
“Come in,” Lochiel’s voice sounded in the darkness. There was the sound of steel on flint, and then a flare of light as he lit a candle from the tinder. The flame flickered as the door opened, casting wild shadows round the room, then a Cameron clansman entered, holding a candle of his own. His kilt and shirt were sodden, and his blue bonnet, heavy with water, drooped over one eye. The man put his candle down on the table, pulled his bonnet off impatiently, wrung it out without regard for the polished wooden flooring, and put it back on. This lack of regard for his chief’s property told both Lochiel and Alex that the news was certainly worth waking them up for.
“I’m sorry to wake you, my lord,” the clansman said, “but there’s a large body of troops moving along Loch Lochy in this direction. I thought ye’d want to know straight away.”
Lochiel pulled himself further up in the bed. Alex swung his good leg out of bed and used his hands to move his splinted leg across to join the other one. Then he reached for his shirt.
“Which side of the loch are they on?” Lochiel asked.
“The south. We lost sight of them just before Letterfinlay due to the fog and rain, but they’re doing a deal of complaining about the weather and the state of the ground even though they’re on the road.”
“D’ye think they’re heading for Fort William?”
“Aye, it’s possible, although ye’d no’ expect them to be moving at dead of night in this rain,” the man replied.
“What time is it?” Alex asked. He was struggling to don his plaid, and wishing he hadn’t taken it off the night before. He hadn’t expected to have to dress hurriedly this morning.
“About four,” said the Highlander.
Lochiel thought for a minute.
“It’s verra likely that they’re making for Fort William to join wi’ Argyll’s Campbells,” he said. “I dinna want to wake the men for a false alarm. How many others are out there watching, Jamie?”
“About ten or so. I’ll head back out myself,” Jamie offered.
“No, away and dry yourself a bit and get something tae eat. Come and tell me immediately when there’s more news of their route.”
The man nodded, picked up his candle and left the room, leaving a trail of rainwater behind him.
“Are ye going to try to sleep some more, Donald?” Alex asked. He was wide awake now. He’d use the time to do a few exercises.
Lochiel rubbed his hand across his face and yawned.
“No,” he said. “It’ll take me a while to dress. I’ll at least try to do what I can for myself. I hate that I have to be carried everywhere like a wee bairn.”
Alex smiled in empathy.
“Aye, well, it’ll no’ be for long, if we’re careful. Are ye healing well? No redness or fever?”
Lochiel shook his head.
“No, the wounds are closing well, and the pain is more tolerable. But it drains the spirit, ye ken?”
“Aye,” Alex said simply, feeling honoured to be the recipient of such a confidence, aware that the Cameron chief would have died rather than admit that to anyone else, and was only telling him because he was also injured and would understand, and because he trusted Alex not to speak of it outside this room.
With the aid of his crutches Alex managed to make his way to the hearth and get a fire going, then they both finished dressing and waited for others to awaken.
By the time the second scout returned with the news that the troops were most definitely not heading to Fort William but had left the military road and clearly intended to cross the River Lochy, the sun had risen and a lot of the men were up and breakfasting.
Those who weren’t were rudely awakened by the pipers playing Cogadh no sìth, or War or Peace, which alerted everyone to the fact that an attack was imminent. Within minutes they were battle-ready and assembled in the grounds of Achnacarry, awaiting instructions.
Lochiel, Alex and Broughton had already conferred, and Lochiel instructed the men to head for the River Lochy as quickly as they could and see if they could stop the redcoats crossing, then watched as the clansmen, fired up to do battle, ran off, both chiefs feeling frustrated and ashamed that they could not charge at the head of their men as they wanted to.
They sat by the window and listened until the skirl of the pipes faded away in the distance, then sat a little longer in silence as the rain slowly eased to a thin drizzle and then stopped, although the clouds were still dark and heavy with the promise of more rain to come.
“I understand now,” Alex murmured to himself, only realising he’d spoken the words aloud when Lochiel asked him what he understood.
“When we were leaving to fight Cope at Prestonpans, it was the first battle where Beth had been with me, and she asked me how to cope wi’ waiting for the men to come home. She was always one for action, hated waiting for anything. I said I hadna a clue. I was impatient tae fight, and didna think overmuch about what she was going through.
“We’ve been here maybe an hour now, and I feel I’m losing my mind waiting for news. She and the other women had to wait four days to find out if we’d won. I ken now how she felt.”
“Ye miss her verra much,” Lochiel said softly.
“Aye,” Alex said. “Aye, I do. At times it hurts more than the pain of my leg, just in a different way.”
“It’ll get easier wi’ time,” Lochiel replied.
“So they tell me,” he said. But the grief showed no sign of abating; it was just that he was learning how to live with it now, instead of giving in to it.
He did understand Beth’s impatience now. He also truly understood for the first time Duncan’s grief at the loss of Màiri, Kenneth’s grief at the betrayal of Jeannie, and Iain’s for the death of Maggie. And he understood now that if you truly found your soulmate, the pain of their loss never went away; it became a part of you, which you carried with you to the grave. He did not believe the burden became lighter with time. You just learned how to bear the weight of it.
A short while later Angus returned, streaking across the grounds like lightning. He crashed through the door then stopped when he saw them, his chest heaving as he fought for breath.
“It isna any good,” he gasped. “There’s too many o’ them. And no’ just redcoats. Munro of Culcairn’s clansmen are there too. We havena a hope against so many. We started to retreat, but they sent me ahead to tell ye, to find out what ye want us to do.” He was looking at Alex as he spoke, but as the vast majority of the men were Camerons, Alex waited for Lochiel to speak.
“We’ve lost enough good men already fighting a battle we couldna win,” he said after a moment. “We must retreat, I think. We’ll go to Loch Arkaig, where we can get a good view of the country and see what they intend. Better to save our men now, until we can join with Keppoch and the MacPhersons, and then we can give them a proper fight.”
Angus listened, then glanced to Alex, who nodded his head; and then he was off again, running across the grounds at full speed to take the news back to the clansmen. Both men watched him with envy.
“We’ll be back to full strength soon enough,” Alex said.
“You will be,” Lochiel said. “I’m no’ so sure about myself. I’ve twenty years on you.”
“You will, man. Ye’re in fine health otherwise. I’ve seen men of sixty injured and recover. And ye’re needed, as am I.” Alex smiled. “Ye’ve no choice in the matter.”
Lochiel laughed.
They were not laughing a few hours later as they congre
gated at the foot of Loch Arkaig. Being unable to ride at any speed above a slow walk, Lochiel had been carried by two of his clansmen while Alex had submitted to being thrown over Kenneth’s shoulder like a child. It was humiliating but practical, and this was not the time to stand on his dignity.
Now they stopped and watched in horror as the enemy swarmed across the Cameron lands and billowing smoke started to rise from the villages as the houses were set on fire. They were too far away to see what was happening to the people, but they had heard enough of the reprisals being visited on other parts of the Highlands to know that any men found would be killed out of hand, and the women stripped and turned out of their homes with their children if they were lucky, raped and possibly murdered if they were not.
“How are they setting the fires?” one of the younger Camerons asked. “The thatch is soaking.”
“From the inside where it’s dry,” said Alex. “The heat dries the outer layer. That’s why there’s so much smoke. Let’s hope they’re allowing the people to leave wi’ their belongings before they fire their houses.”
“The Munros are Highlanders too. Surely they’ll not treat fellow Highlanders too badly?” Angus said hopefully.
Lochiel’s mouth twisted in a parody of a smile.
“It was Camerons who killed Sir Robert and Dr Duncan Munro at Falkirk,” he said. “I doubt Culcairn will have forgiven or forgotten that we killed his brothers. Even if it was in battle.”
Alex could feel the change in the mood of the clansmen as they watched the smoke from the burning houses thicken, and was just about to suggest that they move on before the men charged into a fight they could not win regardless of the consequences, when another scout, covered in mud, approached, stumbling with fatigue and momentarily relieved that he did not have to run another few miles to Achnacarry.
“There are redcoats coming from the north,” he said. “We think about two thousand or so of them. A lot. They’re making heavy weather of it, up to their arses in mud and water, but they’re maybe an hour away, if that.”
There was no more time to lose watching their houses burn. They continued their retreat, down the track which ran along the north of Loch Arkaig to its head. It was clear now that this had been a highly organised attack, intended to wipe out the Camerons altogether. Had they disputed the passage of the River Lochy, they would have been trapped by the troops sweeping down from the north and massacred. Instead, once at the head of the loch, they had a short discussion, after which Lochiel ordered his men to disperse into the hills for now, and await further orders.
Then he turned to Alex.
“Will ye come with us?” he said.
“Where will you go?” Alex asked.
“We’ll head over toward Loch Shiel,” Lochiel said. “The redcoats’ll no’ find us easily there, and I can get messages out to Cluny and his neighbours tae tell them what’s happened here and to advise them to separate and wait for news from the French, who will surely help us.”
“D’ye truly think they’ll send help now?” Alex asked.
“I have to think that. Charles will be on his way there now. He’ll talk the king round. Ye ken how good he is at persuading others to do his will. And we must keep ourselves in readiness.”
“I hope you’ve the right of it, Donald,” Alex said, the doubt apparent in his voice. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll head home. The redcoats’ll no’ venture so far south as Loch Lomond yet, because they’ve no fort to live in and get supplies from unless they can rebuild Inversnaid. We can hide out more easily there and still be ready if ye send us news that the French have landed.”
“It’s no’ finished yet,” Lochiel said with conviction.
With that sentiment Alex could most certainly agree. It was by no means finished yet.
“What are ye intending now?” Iain asked after they’d said their farewells to the Camerons and were headed south, making a wide detour around the Cameron lands, which were now shrouded in a thick pall of black smoke. Alex was still being carried by Kenneth in case they should need to make a sudden run into the mountains. Angus walked to one side of him carrying Alex’s crutches, Iain to the other.
“I’m intending to go home, as I said, and get myself walking again as soon as possible. And then I’m intending to make a start on fulfilling my oath. As I told Donald, the redcoats’ll no’ come as far as Loch Lomond yet. And they dinna ken the land at all. Put me down a minute, Kenneth.”
They had come to a small clearing, and Kenneth carefully lowered Alex onto a fallen log. His men gathered round.
“I ken well that ye all agreed to join wi’ the Camerons to try to continue the fight. Ye’ve seen how that’s worked out. For now all we can do is keep ourselves fit and ready to fight, and wait to see if Louis will send troops to help us rise again.”
“D’ye think he will?” Alasdair asked.
“I dinna ken. I’ve no great hopes of it myself,” Alex said candidly. “But he did send us supplies for a summer campaign, so maybe I’m wrong. But it seems to me we’ve a number of choices. We can surrender, give up our arms and hope that Geordie will be merciful.”
“Geordie merciful? Tae MacGregors?!” Kenneth said incredulously.
The outburst of laughter that followed this proposal and Kenneth’s retort gave Alex his answer.
“Or we can go home, carry on living as we did before, or as best we can, anyway, and hope Cumberland’ll be satisfied wi’ burning the lands he can reach from Fort Augustus and Fort William, and will leave us alone.”
“D’ye think that likely?” Angus asked. Alex pondered for a minute.
“I’d no’ say likely, but it’s possible, aye. I think William’s hitting hard at the clans he can reach because he wants to bring us to heel so he can go back to Flanders as quick as possible. It’s likely that, once he thinks we’re cowed he’ll leave someone else in charge and head back to England with as many men as he can spare.”
“So we can all go back to our families and carry on as before?” Alasdair said.
“Aye. Here’s what I think. Those of you with wives and bairns should go back to them and start the spring planting, which is already late, although with the weather we’re having, that’s no bad thing. The women can go up to the shielings wi’ the cattle, but their menfolk’ll need to keep an eye on them in case the soldiers come. We canna in fairness go reiving our neighbours’ cattle, for they’ll be suffering as much as we are.”
“Even the Campbells?” someone asked.
“We may make an exception there,” Alex conceded, to general approval.
“And those of us without wives and bairns?” Iain asked. Alex glanced at him, and caught the sparkle of tears in Iain’s eyes before he ducked his head and looked away.
“That’s for each of you to decide for yourselves,” Alex said. “For myself, as I said to Iain a minute ago, I intend to get fit and walking, as fast as I can. Then I’ve a blood oath to fulfil. I’m thinking that right now the redcoats are staying together in large groups for the most part. They’re being careful. Even so, Angus has already killed one o’ the bastards. Give them another few weeks and they’ll start to get over-confident, and careless. And then we can start taking them out, a couple here, a couple there, and be gone almost before they know they’re dead. That’s what I intend to do.”
“And me,” said Angus immediately. Iain nodded his head. Alex smiled grimly. It would be just the three of them, as was right; they were the only ones honour-bound to fight by the blood oath of vengeance they’d taken.
“I’ll come too,” said Alasdair to a general chorus of agreement from the other men with families.
Alex held up his hand and they fell silent.
“No, Alasdair. Ye’ve no’ taken the oath. And ye’ve a family,” he said. “I want the men wi’ families to go home to them. The women and bairns have suffered more than enough, waiting for ye all to come back. Before ye object,” he continued on seeing the reluctant expressions all around hi
m, “we need the MacGregors to continue, and to do that we need children, and to do that we need…well, if ye dinna ken that, I’m no’ telling ye.” He fell silent for a minute and they all laughed. “But those of us still fighting will also need feeding, for if we’re to get our two hundred redcoats before we all die of old age, we’ll no’ have the time to raise cattle and oats too. And we’ll need scouts to keep an eye on the land and tell us if soldiers are coming.
“The sort of fighting we’ll be doing now is verra different to what we’ve done for the last year, as ye ken well. Sneak attacks in the night, lying out in the rain for hours waiting for an opportunity to hit, and without the support of an army round us. Sometimes we’ll just need a fireside to sit round and tell stories, wi’ people who are living properly, to keep us human,” he added with disarming candour. “And for that we need you to be wi’ your wives and bairns, so we’ve something normal to come home to. If the French do land and Charles comes back to lead us again, then we’ll decide together what to do.”
There was general agreement, and after a short rest they set off again at a brisk walk, all of them eager to be home now they knew what they would be doing once they got there. Alex was glad that they’d agreed so readily to his proposal; he was tired, in body and mind, and not in the mood for an argument. Once they got back Angus and Iain would move into his house and would make it their base of operations, from where they would plan how to start fulfilling their oath.
“I’m coming with ye too,” Kenneth said suddenly.
“Aye, well, I hope so, because there isna another man who can carry me home alone, and it’d take me an awfu’ long time to hobble back.”
“I dinna mean that, as ye ken well,” Kenneth said. “I’ll join you in your blood oath. Jeannie was a vain wee lassie, but I loved her well, and if it hadna been for a redcoat bastard turning her head wi’ his flattery and false promises, I’d still have her wi’ me now. I need to do this, Alex,” he finished, as though Alex had already forbidden him to.
Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5) Page 9