Scotch Rising

by S. J. Garland

  “You’ve got the right of it.” Beathan shook his head. “As I said on the first night we met, there are rumours going around regarding Turner I did nae believe. I could nae hae thought him capable of murdering two men and hiding their bodies with such success, he was, as ye said, a small man, but now . . .” he let his voice trail away.

  Finishing his thought. “The wounds inflicted on the McKinneys could only have been made with lead balls, one to the body and one in the head. A man of any size could easily have fired a gun. As you mentioned, his familiarity with the fens makes him a suspect. Perhaps he lured them out there.” I sighed and let my head fall back on the pillows. “We will never know, all parties are dead, with no evidence pointing in either direction. I will need to go back out to where I found the bodies, search for any further evidence left by the killer.” I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “I searched for anything out of place when I slipped into the damned bog myself. I did not see anything in lantern light.” Thinking furiously. “I need to have a look at the bodies before they are laid to rest.”

  Beathan frowned, “Robert and Everett’s remains are in a grisly state.” I did not change my expression. “They are laid out up at the kirk, all done with the proper ceremony, though I can nae say if Faither Tadgh will let ye make a close inspection of them. He follows the kirk’s rules strictly.”

  “I respect the rules of the Church, however my need for justice circumvents it in this case. I worked with a Dr Mathews in Boston a few times, an army consultant. He happened to be skilled in finding evidence of a man’s death and the nature of his killer through close examination of the remains as well as the circumstances a body might be found in.” I grimaced at Beathan. “It is the age of science and if it can solve the murders of these two men. I will use all my limited knowledge.”

  Freya’s brisk voice cut through the silence, “I am happy tae see ye finished yer lunch, Captain.” She bustled towards the bed and picked up the tray. “If ye manage tae keep the broth down, I will bring more up after ye rest.” She stared pointedly at Beathan. “The doctor left instructions the captain would need rest tae recover fully.”

  Bowing slightly to Freya, and looking over at me, “I would nae disobey ye or the barber’s orders.” Beathan grinned at me. “Mind ye rest those delicate ankles of yours, Captain, I’m nae sure how appropriate it is fur ye tae entertain men in yer nightshirt.” He howled with laughter at his own wit and after receiving a scowl from me went out the door.

  “Ye never mind what Beathan says, boys, I’ve got four of my own, nae daughters tae soften them.” She huffed as she walked through the door. “The taunts become worse if one of them is sick or injured in some way. I sometimes think the male brain works in a completely different fashion than a woman’s.”

  We are not irrational and taken to flights of fancy, I thought as I listened to her steps descend the stairs and the door close in the kitchen. I glanced around the room, not the least bit tired. I probably would improve more by getting out of bed. Unfortunately, I could not be sure of Freya’s reaction if I decided to run for my freedom, nor regrettably if my body would betray my flight. Only giving the woman more excuses to incarcerate me. I gazed up at the ceiling, I needed some occupation otherwise I might go completely mad.

  Eyes falling on the nightstand, I leaned over and opened the drawer, hoping to at least find pen and paper. I should relate my current circumstances to Colonel Manners. He might relieve me of my duties for my completely foolish behaviour. Maybe something good could happen from this debacle. Fishing through, I found a couple of graphite pencil stubs, shavings, a few loose leaf papers completely marked on both sides with mathematical equations and a leather bound notebook in the very back of the drawer, by the finish on the binding it must have been done in London at considerable cost.

  Letting the pages open naturally to the middle. I found row upon row of numbers, without any break, flipping through the half-used book. I discovered all the pages contained the same neat scrawl of numbers. A comparison with the loose pages revealed the same hand must have written it, none other than Mr Turner. The information written in this book was important enough to Turner for him to take the trouble to write it in code. Whether it contained formulae for a mathematical discovery or his personal thoughts. He could only use so many ciphers.

  I tore a page from the back of the book and wrote the alphabet along the top lengthwise, underneath I wrote the corresponding number from one to twenty-six, my time as a member of the Royal Society taught me the best explanations remained the simplest. I began to replace the numbers with the corresponding letter of the alphabet under the cipher. I wrote out a whole page. Hoping to make some sense out of the stream of letters, however after trying different letter breaks, using one number as a space and even turning the pages upside down. I could not break the code.

  On the opposite side of the torn sheet, I once again wrote out the alphabet, and underneath wrote in the corresponding numbers, this time from greatest to least, twenty-six to one. I worked my way through the same page, scribbling down letters until the page was full. After trying to connect letters to make words into sensible sentences, I gave it up as a fruitless endeavour, unless Turner double coded his thoughts, this did not appear to be the cipher either.

  The morning wore on, though by the light of the windows, it would be hard to tell without my pocket watch on the bedside table. The sky only lightened briefly, the dark clouds too dense for the autumn light to penetrate. I lay back and tried to think of the next best cipher. Tucking the torn paper into the back of the book, and turning to a random page, I commenced looking for common groups of letters. Four or five that might be the same word repeated over and over. This way I might find a small key to the whole puzzle.

  I worked for hours making hardly any progress until I heard noise coming up the stairs. I quickly hid the pencil stubs and book under the covers, laying back into the pillows and trying my best to appear restful. My mind raced, going over different ciphers and possible solutions.

  Freya made enough noise coming into the room to give me an excuse to open my eyes. Her own gaze took in my state and if she guessed I did not spend the morning sleeping. She did not comment on it. Instead she fluffed the pillows at my back. “I’ve brought another tray fur ye, more broth, bread and a bit of cheese. I know ye must be hungry.”

  “I’m starving, which is why I think you can dispense with the broth and substitute it for a nice roast leg of lamb or a pork pie.” I waved at the contents of the tray. “This is all very well for an invalid, however I think my chances of recovery will be greatly improved with heartier fare.”

  “Ye will eat slowly and what is prescribed fur ye.” Freya placed her hands on her hips. “I truly dinnae think ye realise how close tae meeting the good Lord ye came. Never mind the miracle Kieran performed to save yer sorry hide. I thought the fever would finish ye, you’ve got something strong in ye, Captain.” She patted the bed and turned to leave.

  Sighing with irritation and resolution. “Freya, thank you for saving my life.” Taking a deep breath, I continued. “Sometimes I take for granted what a stubborn bastard I can be, the only person I ever tried to accommodate in any way died. I will try to be more cooperative. ” She did not turn around; instead she nodded her head and whistled as she went down the stairs.

  A few minutes later I heard soft footsteps on the staircase, I put my spoon down, straining to hear any sound. It could not be Freya or Beathan, though the latter was lighter on his feet than his bulk suggested. These steps were as hesitant as a bird’s. The intruder suffered a slight pause of indecision at the top of the steps. I thought to call out to them before a boy’s apprehensive face appeared in the doorframe, cap in hand.

  “I heard Beathan tell my faither ye regained yer wits,” Kieran bobbed a quick bow. I motioned him to come further into the room. He took up the place by the end of the bed, the same place Beathan had vacated in the morning. “I thought I might come down and see fur myself.”r />
  “Thanks to you, my boy. I am hale and becoming more hearty by the minute.” Gesturing to the tray of food. “Have you eaten? I can get Freya to bring something up for you.” The boy’s expression became worried and he shook his head furiously. I smiled. “Does Freya know you’re up here?”

  “Nae, I’m supposed tae be up at the castle with the cooper helping him bend the wood fur barrels. My faither says I’m tae stay put, punishment fur my night time wanderings.” Kieran puffed his chest proud of his work. “It’s heavy work fur the rest of the afternoon and he does nae need me. As long as I fetch him a hare from my traps this week, he will keep quiet tae my faither.”

  “I will always be grateful to you for saving my life.” I did not want Kieran to think me unappreciative. “However as my own experience must show you, roaming through the fens at night is a dangerous occupation. I would never want to hear of a similar accident befalling such a clever lad. How did you find me?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Kieran half sat on the bed, staring at the floor. “I needed tae check my lines. Darkness provides cover. I saw yer light coming through the fens, following my hare tracks.” An apprehensive look on his face, “I thought ye might be looking fur poachers.” His face turned red. “So I hid. I never thought ye might try tae reach the fire at the other end.”

  “Kieran, if you saw the fire and heard both explosions, were you not tempted in the very least to check for the source?” I asked, exasperated. He did not turn his face towards mine. Instead he steadily worked the toe of his boot into the wooden floor. “Is it because you already knew where the fire came from and who started it? You must tell me. It is dangerous for the village to have such goings on in the night. Think of the danger if the fire spread through the fens to the village.”

  The lad remained silent. He worried his lip thinking over his options. I could well understand he felt the need to protect whoever caused the incident on the fens. I remained an outsider. A Sassenach, not even a Scots, if I wanted a test of loyalties, I found it in Kieran. He could not betray his own to me.

  “I must ask this, as an officer.” I waited until the boy’s full attention finally rose from the floor to my face. “In your previous journeys through the fens, did you ever come across the McKinneys’ bodies before, or have you ever come across anyone who might be trying to hide something?”

  My questions remained vague, the sagging of the boy’s shoulders and his attempts not to look me in the eye spoke of his unwillingness to part with any information if it meant he might get in trouble for it. I needed another route to the information. “Did you ever seen Mr Turner out in the fens?”

  Kieran looked sharply at me and nodded slowly. “Mr Turner spent many hours walking through the fens and the woods. Said it improved his constitution. Nae sure what he meant by it, but his cough scared away most of the game.” The boy scratched his head. “He would pick different ferns and flowers and press them intae a great book he carried in his shoulder satchel.”

  The boy did not seem exceptionally afraid of Mr Turner. If he went mad with his suppositions of the McKinneys’ guilt over an illegal still, it might be fair to say the boy knew of its existence and might be wary of the man. “Did you ever see Mr Turner speak with either of the McKinneys or anyone else out in the fens?”

  A sigh and a look at the roof before shaking his head, the boy knew something, however he felt he could not reveal it until he knew me better. I decided to finish my soup and let him look around the room at my belongings for a few minutes. His eye caught the regimental sword I inherited from my father and he went to stand next to it for a better look.

  Clearing his throat, he spoke in a small voice. “I would be fond of going to the Americas one day, fight with Indians against the French. I would hae tae go as a foot soldier. I hae nae money tae buy a commission and can nae be an officer.” The boy sighed and traced his finger down the fine filigreed silver and gold workmanship of the sword.

  “The New World is a wondrous place. As you enjoy spending time in the fens and woods.” I grimaced. “You would probably feel right at home in the deep, dense forests surrounding Boston, much more than I did at first.” I hesitated for a second. “However, fighting is a terrible thing, war is a blight on all it touches. I hope it might never come here and taint you.”

  He turned to look at me, a curious and fierce expression on his face. “Men gain honour and spoils in war. They fight and it means something tae their folk and people drink tae them even after they are long dead.” Kieran thought for a moment. “Men who fight in battles never die. Their stories are told next tae the fire in the evening.”

  Kieran might be young, however I knew he did not get his ideas about fighting and honour from haggis out in the fens. It sounded as if Logan’s stories might be influencing his son’s impressionable mind. Some men who died in battles could be immortalised. Apparently his Markinch ancestors kept Logan and Kieran company on more than a few nights. Having already made Logan’s acquaintance. I wondered to what kind of woman might have married him. I remember him telling Beathan she was dead. “Was your mother from Markinch?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Kieran walked back and leaned his hip into the bed once again. “I dinnae know, I never asked my faither. She died when I was young, my grandmother cared fur me until she died too. It’s just me and him.” He grinned. “It’s fine because I dinnae hae tae wash like the other boys and I dinnae hae tae mind my manners.”

  “I can see how it might be appealing.” I thought of my own lonely childhood. “I lost my mother as a small child and my father, who fought in many battles against the French and is part of the reason I joined the army.” The contemplation of my own innocence made me cringe inside, yet if I never went to the New World. I never would have married Onatah and my sacrifices even now felt worth the trade.

  “It’s getting late.” Kieran announced looking out the window. How he could tell the change in the sun’s position in the flat daylight. I could not judge. “I must go and check my snares. Faither complains about the poaching, but he enjoys the coney stew all the same.” With a wink the lad stuffed his cap on his head.

  “Thank you again, lad. I would have died in a murky watery unmarked grave.” I felt a tingle walk up my spine and settle behind my neck. “You saved my life and I owe you a blood debt, as I said on the night. You must come to me with anything, I will help you.”

  The heavy weight of the promise embarrassed the lad. He ducked his head and quietly stalked from the room. I did not even hear the door to the front of the cottage open and close. The lad definitely possessed a talent, and it would lead him into trouble if Logan could not keep a better eye on him. The father’s help saving my life not withstanding, I do not think he would take advice on how to raise his son from me, a Sassenach.

  Good fortune meant Kieran and I met with Logan as soon as we clumsily found the road. The boy and I were exhausted. We needed a firm hand to take control of the situation. I wondered what he might have been up to out on the road so late at night, looking for his son or waiting near where the McKinneys laid half-hidden for another purpose. I did not know. I believed Kieran when he said he never saw the bodies before the night I found them. Considering his proclivity to roaming the fens it might be hard to believe, however closing my eyes I remembered the look of shock on his face after I forced him to identity the men, his surprise genuine.

  My head hurt, I lay back on pillows and tried to get comfortable, closing my eyes, I thought of the events of the last few days, Markinch could turn out to be far from the sleepy village in the Highlands of Scotland portrayed by Colonel Manners in London. Perhaps Turner had warned him, there was definitely a puzzle in need of some attention.

  Chapter 7

  Checking the road lay empty on either side of the cottage, I stepped into the world once again. With the knowledge Freya needed to run errands for most of the day and she hopefully would not find me gone until my return. Rupert and Everett’s corpses were due to be interred in
the evening. The bodies might hold evidence, which could solve their murder. Another slate grey day, the threat of snow oppressive, I walked slowly and evenly, stretching my limbs after the illness and forced rest, the porridge consumed sticking to the sides of my belly, providing a thick coating of warmth. The fens on either side of the road looked as they had on the night of my accident. Beautiful and unthreatening in their rugged expanse, stretching and pulling towards the horizon.

  I could hear the workday at Deoch bustling with activity before the red buildings became visible above the rise in the road. The white writing greeting me once again and reminding me where I existed, not in any village or town in the Highlands, in Markinch, at Deoch. As on my previous visit to Deoch, men studiously kept to their business, carrying grain sacks, walking with brooms, some speaking in groups. Today a farmer stood and waited for his grain to be milled, while another with the help of a young man shovelled wort into the back of their cart, presumably to feed their livestock.

  Kieran waved furiously alerting the rest of the workers to my presence. So much for passing unnoticed. He shouted and every man turned to look from him to me. “Captain, I hope yer nae heading out intae the fens today.” Turning his face towards the sky. “Storm coming from the north.”

  The men quit their occupation to listen to our shouted conversation. Years had passed since I felt such embarrassment over my actions. I berated myself for my lack of foresight in walking through the fens and stared up at the sky. The air remained still, no wind from the north. I looked back at Kieran. “Taking a walk up to the church.”

  Several of the men nodded their heads. Kieran frowned and began to walk over, wooden rake in one hand. “Going tae thank the Lord fur saving yer skin?”