Scotch Rising

by S. J. Garland

  Reluctantly, Kieran left my side and squatted near the heads of the two bodies. With no lamplight to aid his sight, he needed to lean quite close. After a minute he stood and came back to my side, put one of my shaking arms over his shoulders and tried to get me to walk. I shook my head. “Not until you tell me if you know those two men.”

  The lad hunched his shoulders together, and remained silent for a full minute, the only sound in the night air my own shivering. The boy finally relented. “Aye, I know the two men, it’s the McKinney men.” Kieran sniffed a few times and I could not see if he was crying with his head bent towards the ground. “It’s a sorry place tae find them.”

  All the muscles in my body ached and I felt terribly tired. At this point I could not be sure I would make it back to the road, let alone the cottage. “Let us away, lad. You have done a man’s work this evening. You should be proud.” I clumsily put one frozen foot in front of the other. It was a painful process for both of us.

  The lad required no light to guide him through the small trails around other bogs and pitfalls. Instinct and previous traverse led him through safely and I could only be grateful. I needed every ounce of concentration to keep my fragile body in motion. Conversation might help. “You know the way through the fens well for a lad.”

  “Nae so much a lad.” Kieran shifted under my weight belying his answer. His scrawny shoulders pressed into my side. “I’ll be ten in two months, auld enough tae work at Deoch. Mr Clunes and Beathan dinnae take workers even a day younger, but I’ll be ten and they can nae hae naught tae say on the matter.”

  “The village is surely large enough to support a school.” I thought back on the number of houses in the village along with the workers cottages dotted around Deoch. “Surely there is someone around who teaches the children to read, write and complete sums?”

  Kieran’s voice indicated a frown settling over his lips. “Aye, the faither up at the kirk gives lessons in the morn for those willing tae pay the half shilling a week.” The lad tried to shrug under my weight. “I can read and write and do some maths. I dinnae need any more learning tae work at Deoch with my faither.”

  The urge to sit and lay down on the cold earth became powerful. It required every bit of stubborn pride I possessed to urge my body forward. If I fell now, I would sleep and Kieran could not drag me the rest of the way. He was a brave lad, and I needed to reward his courage this evening with my own. I tried to resurrect the powerful desire to live I had felt in the bog. It fluttered and threatened to blow out.

  We stumbled down and back up a small ditch. I felt the hard packed dirt of the ground through my now frozen toes and feet. I felt struck dumb by the increasing need for warmth, my vision impeded by a black fog on either side and I knew it would eventually spread to claim all my sight. Once this happened, I would be lost.

  “Kieran, where the devil hae ye been, laddie, and what in the name of the guid faither is this?” A stern voice erupted from behind us. “Ye better hae a damned guid excuse fur being out of bed at this time of night. Let alone come out of the fens. Ye better nae been poaching, laddie, otherwise I will take the fine out of yer hide.” Boots crunched on the frozen ground and I tried to turn and face the newcomer.

  Instead of spinning around with my usual grace, my numb feet would not cooperate. I fell to my knees and I used the last of my energy to keep from falling all the way to the earth. Boot steps quickened and Logan’s face loomed above mine. He squatted in front of me and looked at Kieran. “Get up tae the castle at once. Tell them tae send a cart and warm blankets, and tell them tae send word tae Freya.”

  “Faither,” Kieran began reluctantly, holding his sodden cap in hand. “Faither, there is something terrible out in the fens.” He looked to me for help. I opened and closed my mouth several times. The voice I normally commanded gone with the cold.

  Logan slapped his son hard across the face. The boy staggered a few steps and lifted his chin defiantly. “Get up tae the castle and get help. We can nae waste any time on yer fanciful notions right now. If the captain disnae get warm, he will die.” Logan stared at the boy hard and under the pressure of the light blue gaze. He folded and ran with jerky, exhausted steps up the road to the Clunes.

  “I hae nae bloody notion what ye might be thinking of wandering in the fens at night without a guide.” Logan put his hand through his long blond locks, and reached into his sporran pulling out a silver flask, decorated with a stag. “Sit, here let me help ye, take a good drink of this. Mind tae get it down.”

  Shaking my head at first, I did not want to become any more befuddled and I felt more drunk now than when I left the castle. I needed to keep my wits. Logan however remained persistent. I let a couple of mouthfuls choke down my raw throat. At least the burning was from warmth rather than cold.

  I focused my mind on one of my frozen hands, white with cold. I lifted it and grabbed the other man’s wrist with the last of my strength. “Logan,” my voice raw and harsh. “Explosion, I went to investigate.” His face grew interested and he leaned closer to hear my whispered words. “Found two corpses, men, Kieran says it’s the McKinneys.” Shock registered on the other man’s face and another emotion I could not understand as the darkness threated to take all my vision.

  The shouts of men erupted in the distance. I made out the squeaking of a carts wheels protesting in motion. I let go Logan’s wrist, no longer possessing the strength to speak, think or even remain sitting. The darkness waited to take me into its embrace, a nothingness. I fought with the last of my energy. I did not want to go yet. I screamed in my head as the pain in my limbs and body intensified.

  Hot hurried hands found my forehead. They took hold of my hand and burned me with their heat. “Captain?” A small, frightened voice spoke urgently. “It is Phil, can ye open yer eyes?” A violent fit shook my whole frame and she gasped. “He is still shivering which is a good sign, get those blankets around him, quickly. We must lift him intae the cart and get the warm bricks around him.”

  I could feel people rushing around, all business, and brisk movements.Phil’s voice, earnest and instructive, took over the whole mêlée and brought industrious activity. Her small hands chaffed mine in a flurry of strokes, encouraging blood back into the digits. The pain of the cold could be as nothing to the pain I would experience once my body began to warm again. “Logan, ye must hae spoken with him. Did he say why he walked intae the fens at night?”

  “The last thing I said tae him as he left the castle this evening was tae nae venture intae the fens at night.” Beathan’s worried voice came from my feet. Suddenly I felt weightless, suspended in a blanket, carried by a few heaving men and deposited roughly onto the cart, as someone began putting hot bricks around my body. “He is a sensible enough, laddie. I can nae believe he wandered off the road.”

  Logan’s voice lowered, perhaps he wanted to keep the information private or perhaps he felt it required a degree of delicacy I had yet to observe in the man. “Says he saw the explosion and fire. He must have decided tae try and investigate, bloody fool.” He paused and ploughed on, words tumbling over themselves. “He found the McKinneys, Beathan, both dead, he says.”

  A lengthy silence followed, I listened to Phil give the driver instructions. I wanted to know Beathan’s reaction and, from the delay, I guessed Phil wanted to hear it too. Finally he spoke. “Christ, I hoped, I thought they ran off. I knew Robert would never hae left Agnes behind, how did he identify them?”

  “The captain could nae, having never met either of them,” an aggravated sigh filled the night air. “Kieran found him and the bodies, out of bed, probably poaching again. I am sorry fur the lad’s mischief, Beathan. Since his mother passed, I can nae seem tae dae anything right. It will be better once he commences up at Deoch. He will be far tae tired to indulge in any night time wanderings.”

  The rest of the conversation cut away and the cart lurched forward. I could not stay conscious any longer. The pain, the cold, the uncomfortable weight of living w
eighed down my mind and I let it finally drift away, uncaring as to where it might lead.

  Chapter 6

  I could hardly keep my eyes open yet dreadful visions and night terrors stalked across my feverish brain, the two corpses in the fens frightfully coming alive. Pushing me into the murky bog, blurring into the faces of men I killed. To Onatah’s lifeless bloated body, swimming in blood and gore. Her face contorted forever in pain. I could not leave her behind. I could not stay asleep. Jolting awake in a spasm, I shook and took several deep breaths to relax back into the soft bed. Under the covers, I should have been comfortable, however after hours, days, of rest the bedclothes felt itchy. My limbs too languid, I needed to stretch, to stand, to find out more of the McKinneys.

  Testing each of my limbs, I tried to stretch them and gauge how much strength might have come back into them after the illness. Confused images of Phil and Freya swam around in my head, still foggy from the fever, the pain of feeling returning to my frozen limbs unbearable. I tried not to scream as my body felt struck by a million pins. At the time, all movement felt blurred, rushed conversations, quick diagnosis and swift footfalls as scalding bricks were eventually replaced by ice and snow to reduce the fever. Those two women saved my life. Not knowing it was hardly worth their tireless efforts.

  With determination, I moved one leg to the edge of the bed. After taking a short break, I edged my way up the pillows into a sitting position. Even these small movements required extraordinary concentration and I rested before moving my leg off the side of the bed. I breathed in a happy sigh of satisfaction. I could do this.

  “And what dae ye think ye might be up tae, Captain?” The stern inquiry came from the door. I quickly looked up, caught like a naughty schoolboy in some such transgression. Freya held her hands on her ample hips, eyes narrowed, lips pursed as if she witnessed something so appalling it could only bring instant disfavour.

  “Good morning, Freya.” I stammered shrinking back under the covers. Unfortunately I did not possess the strength to lift my offending leg back under the covers. It hung there, a damning piece of evidence to my efforts at escaping from my convalescent bed. “I did not realise you might be around,” thinking quickly. “I need to use the chamber pot.”

  “A guid sign.” Freya announced as she bounced into the room. Fetching the brass pot from under the window, she moved to the side of the bed and rested her small hand on my forehead for a moment. “The heat appears tae hae left ye, yer fever broke late last night. The doctor did nae think ye could bide through another night without some damage.” She began to lift the quilt from the bed.

  “Madam,” I growled, heat coming back into my face, I tried to slap her hands away from my person. “I beg your pardon, I am perfectly capable of managing on my own, thank you.” I reached unsuccessfully for the piss pot, as she moved it out of my grasp, a frown settling on her face.

  “Captain, it’s nae time fur ye tae develop a bit of modesty. I hae been helping ye with the pot fur two days.” Freya sighed loudly as I remained as still as stone, a baleful look directed at her. “Well, I will leave the pot here, mind, and I will stay and watch if ye need help.”

  “Over my cold lifeless body, Madam, leave the pot and get out.” I mustered every ounce of the army captain into my voice. I could not contemplate having my housekeeper stand over me, watching as I took a piss, the whole episode unseemly. “I can manage without your feminine assistance.”

  “It would hae been over yer dead body, Captain, without my assistance, nursing ye day and night. Bringing down yer fever, and if ye think I’ve nae taken a good look, yer mistaken.” Freya nodded giving an edge of spite to her words. Flouncing towards the door, pride and hurt radiating from her body. “I hae got my own brood tae look after, ye know. I can nae always drop everything tae come to yer aid and not even get a thank ye for it.”

  I stared at the pot and listened to Freya noisily stomp back down the stairs, in a clear temper over my lack of cooperation. I sighed and tried to bang the pot on the bed for effect, however my weak arms made it look pitiful. I didn’t even need the damned thing and my resolution from a couple of days ago to make peace with my housemaid shattered over the well-polished floor, even after she saved my life. Feeling comparable to the biggest ass in Scotland, I tried to sit up without the pillows at my back. I only needed to practice, my muscles felt weak from underuse and sickness. Once I pressed them into action, they would naturally return to their former vigour. I would be free to investigate the McKinney mystery further. Perhaps Markinch would be interesting after all.

  “Och, Captain, I think I now know why Freya is in one of her moods downstairs.” Beathan’s voice filled every corner of the room. Glancing at the door, the big man stood in the frame hunched over in order to get through, tray of food in his arms and a tentative smile on his face. “Thought I might come around and look in on the patient. Yer the talk of the town, Captain, or should I say, half the talk of the town.” For such a big man, I never heard him on the stairs.

  The food on the tray reminded me I must not have eaten in days. This could also be the reason I remained weak. Beathan strode into the room and waited patiently for me to stack the pillows behind me. He set the tray down and walked back to the end of the bed, leaning on the poster frame with ease.

  Excitement turned to mild disappointment with the fare, barley broth and a crust of bread. Hardly the meal of substance I needed to get my strength back. I delicately took a sip and found the soup very good. Immediately forgetting Beathan’s presence at the end of the bed. I slurped my way through the bowl with satisfaction.

  “At least yer appetite has nae been affected by your illness.” Beathan chuckled as I wiped my mouth on the napkin and sat back. “However, I think I should enquire tae the reason ye left the road, after we discussed keeping yer delicate ankles from harm?”

  A great feeling of shame and annoyance at my behaviour seized my mind and I thought of all the people who had been integral in saving me from my own foolishness. “I am sorry, Beathan. I truly am. I knew walking through the bloody fens held many different dangers at night. When I heard the explosion and saw the fire. I guess a bit of drunken courage prompted me from the road. I have to say I did not do half bad until I slipped into the bog.”

  “Unfortunately, everybody thinks they hae conquered the fens until one day or night their foot slips and they fall intae one of those damned watery pits.” Beathan grimaced. “Everyone heard the explosion last night. We’re nae such damn fools tae go hunting through the darkness tae find the culprits, I would hae taken ye out there in daylight.” He shook his head.

  “I thought if I caught a couple of illegal still operators my sentence in Scotland might be reduced.” I looked at Beathan sheepishly. “I have an agreement with my superior to occupy this post for one year. After which I can be discharged from the army and go, well, I am not sure where.” My voice trailed away and I stared at the far wall.

  “Ye better take a wee bit more caution if ye want tae live through yer year, I think, ye are hardly a week in and already faced certain death,” Beathan raised his brows. “I hae tae say yer midnight ramblings did set some of Markinch’s residences fears at ease.” I frowned at him. “Ye found the bodies of the McKinneys.”

  The image of the corpses rose up in my vision. “I could not imagine the terrible death they suffered out there in the bog.” Shuddering, as I nearly shared their fate. The relief when the lad saved me. I rubbed a hand across my face. “I was submerged in muck, Beathan, completely covered. I do not know how the lad found me or saved my hide. I can only be grateful.”

  Beathan looked nervous, he shuffled his great weight from one foot to another, and when he spoke. He could not meet my gaze. “There has been an inordinate amount of speculation in Markinch concerning the disappearance of the McKinneys.” He sighed and finally turned to me, “and its probable link tae Mr Turner and his death.”

  “Mr Turner committed suicide, the evidence of his death hangs in my drawing
room downstairs.” I sat up straight and tried to rearrange the pillows into a more comfortable position. “It’s possible the McKinneys could have something to do with it. The rope is tied to a beam too high for Turner to reach unless he possessed a ladder.”

  Appearing uncomfortable again, Beathan took a deep breath and set his chin, resolute to carry the tale forward. “Mr Turner possessed an obsessive nature, by the evidence left downstairs I think ye will agree.” He paused and I nodded my understanding. “He became excessively curious concerning the McKinneys, who run a wee still on the opposite side at the fens from Deoch. Only a third of our production, the Turret still manufactures a good tipple and they sell enough tae keep the accounts ticking over. Turner became obsessed with the notion the two men operated an illegal still or at the very least their buyers were nae as they seemed. He investigated everything tae do with Turret from the grain suppliers tae the distributers in Edinburgh. He never found a stitch of proof against them.”

  I listened quietly to the story, thinking of the man who would work for hours puzzling through a mathematical equation in his drawing room. Mentally ticking off each avenue of solution until he finally found the correct answer. Only to recheck the result over and over until he could be sure of its validity, the McKinneys might have provided a problem he could never solve.

  Lowering his voice to a whisper. “Folk in the village already thought Mr Turner a trifle odd with his mathematics and botanical walks, as he called them, searching fur specimens in the fens and woods. When the McKinneys disappeared, faither and son, leaving the mother, Agnes, tae run the still and with Turner’s suicide at the same time. Well, people are wont tae put the two together.”

  Mind racing for the obvious solution, I spoke quickly. “People believe Turner, fuelled by his suspicions, confronted the McKinneys and killed them when they would not admit to their crimes. After which he went home and, not able to live with his remorse. He killed himself.” the last a statement rather than a question.