He crept around the base of the Hall, looking for a way in.
All at once a sound came from the direction of the stables. Sandy ducked out of sight beneath a large shrub. A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
It was the old groom! Sandy jumped to his feet and hurried forward before the man reached the house.
“Baillidh,” he whispered.
“Who is it?” exclaimed the startled man.
“Baillidh, it’s me—Sandy Gordon.”
“By the heavens, m’lord!” exclaimed the groom in a low voice. “Ye mauna be seen, or ye’ll be arrested on the spot.”
He turned. “Come wi’ me,” he whispered, walking quickly back into the nearest of the stable buildings. Sandy followed. As soon as they were safely inside, the loyal Jacobite, whose master had never suspected his allegiance to the Stuart cause, turned toward his surprise visitor.
“What are ye doin’ here, m’lord?” he asked. “’Tis not safe.”
“I only now returned and learned what the traitor Tullibardglass has done to my mother,” replied Sandy. “I came to see Lady Culodina and perhaps kill her father at the same time.”
“Ye’re too late on both accounts, m’lord,” replied Baillidh. “My lord whisked the lass away directly after the battle.”
“Away . . . away to where?”
“His estate near Carlisle.”
An exclamation of frustration burst from Sandy’s lips. His foe had outsmarted him yet again. No wonder his mother had heard nothing about Culodina. Tullibardglass was keeping her south of the border in England, with no Jacobite loyalists for miles. If he hoped to see her, the peril would be even greater than coming here on this night.
“We had heard that ye escaped the sword yersel,’” said the groom. “But my hert aye grieves fer yer puir father, bless him. He was the best man in Badenoch.”
“Thank you, Baillidh,” said Sandy. “I will tell my mother what you have said. It will comfort her.”
“An’ the Bonnie Prince, m’lord?”
“He was safe when I left him,” replied Sandy, “bound for Skye. But they were searching for him everywhere. We may yet see him again—who can tell?”
“Ye maun tak care, m’lord Sandy. My lord’s factor is under orders not t’ spare yer life gien ye show yer face at Cliffrose.”
Sandy nodded. They shook hands and parted.
Forty
Sandy tarried two weeks with his mother, making sure she had what she needed, acquiring for the cottage what few additional items of furniture he could without raising suspicions, and using the time to secretly renew old friendships and find how many in the area he might still be able to depend on. At the end of that time, well disguised and with false identity papers made up for him during his two months with the prince on the Long Island, Sandy said good-bye to a tearful Aileana and set out for England.
It took him most of another week to reach Carlisle and discreetly inquire into the location of Tullibardglass’s estate. His mother and Baillidh had been right. Soldiers were everywhere near the border. The very sound of his speech was often enough to arouse suspicion and send uncomfortable glances his way. But the disguise, which he hoped made him appear ten years older, and the papers proclaiming him to be a Glasgow linen merchant, in most cases proved sufficient to deflect undue questions.
In the dead of night, the moon temporarily hidden by clouds, he finally scaled the wall surrounding Murdoch Sorley’s estate. A warm wind was blowing the trees about in a mounting frenzy. He hurried through them, then sprinted across an open lawn to the two-story stone house, ducking hastily into the shadows beside it.
The front door was bolted fast. He crept around the circumference of the place, trying doors and windows, glad there were no dogs about and that all the inhabitants, however many there might be in addition to Culodina and her father, were sleeping soundly.
Unsuccessful, at length he found a rock the size of his hand, crept for a second time to the back of the house, and stopped at what appeared to be a service entrance. With one quick blow he shattered the lowest pane of the nearby window. Reaching carefully through, he managed to get hold of the edge of the door latch. A minute later he was inside.
He sat down to wait. If the sound had disturbed anyone, he would let sleep return before proceeding further.
He remained where he was for twenty minutes, hearing nothing. At last he rose again, his eyes now accustomed to the blackness, and took stock of his surroundings.
He had obviously entered some kind of storage room off the kitchen. From the exterior layout of the house, he had judged the private quarters to be on the first floor, probably facing the front. He crept out of the room, feeling and inching his way. The main staircase should be easy to locate.
Ten minutes later he stood on the first floor, at the top of the stairs. A thin light had broken in through a window on the landing, from the moon now partially visible in the blustery night sky.
He glanced about, glad for the illumination. Three doors presented themselves as likely to lead from the wide landing and adjacent corridor into Culodina’s room.
There was nothing for it but to silently probe the latches of each one. If they were unlocked, he hoped the hinges were well oiled and that no creaking floorboards gave him away. He should be able to tell within a second or two whether he had guessed correctly, had stumbled into someone else’s room, or worse, had blundered into the viscount’s chamber. In any event, after two attempts he should know where Culodina slept.
Stealthily he crept toward the first door.
Suddenly footsteps sounded behind him. The landing flooded with light.
Sandy spun around.
There stood Culodina’s father, lantern in one hand, sword in the other, a wickedly cunning smile spreading over his lips.
“You young fool,” he said with disdain. “Did you really think I didn’t know you would eventually try something foolhardy like this?” He set the lantern down on a sideboard and slowly approached. By degrees the point of the sword rose menacingly toward Sandy.
“Tullibardglass,” said Sandy. “It pains me that it has come to this. But when we last met, it was not as friends. We were enemies, and you were a murderer.”
“Say rather a patriot who honors and obeys his King,” spat Sorley angrily.
“It is only the lowest of men who betrays his own,” replied Sandy to Sorley’s statement. “And when you killed my father, you forced me to defend my family’s honor.”
“Your family has no honor!”
“To prove you wrong, I will either kill you or spill my blood on your floor in the attempt.”
Tullibardglass laughed in derision, then strode forward clutching his sword in readiness. Sandy’s hand moved toward the handle of his dirk.
But Culodina had wakened from the harsh words. Confused and frightened at first, she had quickly thrown on a wrapper and come to her door, not dreaming who was arguing with her father. Now, seeing what was happening, she dashed from her room.
“Sandy!” she cried, running between them.
Startled by her sudden appearance, her father paused momentarily. “Stay where you are, Culodina!” he shouted.
But she continued to Sandy’s side. Keeping his eyes locked on her father, Sandy stretched out his free hand and drew her to him.
“I’m so sorry for what I said to you,” he said softly. “I was not myself.”
“I know,” she replied. “We will not speak of it again.”
“Culodina, come here!” demanded her father, inching forward again. “Get away from him before you are hurt.”
“No, Father, I won’t!”
“He is a traitor and a wanted man. If I do not kill him, he will hang from Argyll’s gallows.”
“Father, you are the traitor,” said Culodina. “I know what you did at Culloden. You killed your best friend!”
“He was never my friend. His grandfather was a thief who stole Cliffrose from us.”
“That’s
a lie, Tullibardglass!” rejoined Sandy heatedly.
“I don’t believe you either, Father.”
“Silence, you little—” began Sorley, advancing quickly toward them with heavy stride. The fire in his eyes indicated clearly enough what was in his mind.
“Sandy, quick!” cried Culodina.
She yanked him by the hand toward her room. A lethal whoosh of her father’s sword whizzed through the air behind them, its tip missing Sandy’s back by inches. Sandy followed her inside. Culodina slammed and bolted the door. The next instant her father’s fist exploded upon it.
“Culodina!” he shrieked in a rage. “Culodina, open this door or suffer the consequences. I will not be able to protect you if you continue this madness!”
Even as he pounded, shouting curses and threats, Culodina grabbed a dress and cloak, then led Sandy to the open window. Within seconds they were climbing down the slope of the roof. Sandy leapt to the ground, then did his best to break Culodina’s jump as she followed. By the time Tullibardglass realized he was yelling at an empty room, they were sprinting through the trees for the perimeter wall.
Enraged yet further as the truth dawned on him, Sorley spun around, sent the sword clattering across the floor, and stormed down the stairs, hurriedly rousing every available man in his employ and the three soldiers he had arranged to be stationed on the premises. The gates of the estate swung open five minutes later, and the viscount of Tullibardglass galloped off after the renegades with eight armed men.
Their orders regarding Sandy were “kill on sight.”
Forty-One
Racing on the back of Sandy’s horse across several miles of rolling hills, then through the deserted streets of Carlisle, with Culodina holding on around Sandy’s waist for dear life, the two fugitives turned onto the northern road and were galloping back over the Scottish border within an hour. The southern Lowlands, however, were no safer than the English countryside. Anything out of the ordinary was sure to raise the suspicious eyebrows of Lowland Scots eager to curry the favor of the nearby redcoats.
The first thing they had to do was procure a horse for Culodina. Then they might travel as brother and sister, calmly, and without apparent fear or urgency. These days, the worst thing a Jacobite who was desirous of staying out of jail and off the gallows could do was look like a man on the run.
Pausing for several hours in a protected hollow, they managed to get three or four hours of sleep. They bought a horse in a nearby village the following morning, then struck out east across the southern mountains, where they knew Culodina’s father would not look for them. But Sorley was certain to know their eventual destination. Therefore, Sandy was in no hurry as they made their way back to Speyside. Along the way, they tarried at what Jacobite homes still existed, gathering what news he could of the failed cause and the prince’s plight.
Two weeks after Culodina’s rescue, they finally approached the familiar glen. The hour was late. They left their horses in Robert MacGregor’s byre and stole to Aileana’s cottage sometime after midnight.
Again the door was not locked. They walked in.
Waking suddenly from the press of her son’s hand against her mouth, Aileana was nearly frightened out of her wits.
“Mother . . . Mother,” said Sandy in an urgent whisper, “it is me—do not be afraid. I did not want you to cry out.” Slowly he released her mouth.
“Sandy!” she exclaimed, trying to rise from bed. “What are . . . but let me light a candle.”
“No, Mother, please. We mustn’t be seen or heard.”
“But who is that behind you?” said Aileana, sitting up and noticing a figure in the shadows of the thin moonlight that fell through the one window.
“Aunt Aileana . . . it is me,” said Culodina softly.
“Culodina! Oh, my dear child!” exclaimed Aileana, bursting into tears. The next moment they were in one another’s arms. “But . . . how did—”
“We will tell you all in the morning, Mother,” said Sandy.
“Your father was here, Culodina.”
“I thought as much,” nodded Sandy with concern. “How long ago?”
“Ten days, perhaps. He was furious and full of threats. But eventually I think he believed me that I knew nothing of your whereabouts. After that, as far as I know, he left Tullibardglass Hall and returned south.”
Sandy sighed. The situation remained dangerous. “At the moment we are near exhaustion,” he said. “If we might simply have some oatcakes and milk, and then sleep, we will think what to do in the morning.”
Already Aileana was on her feet and gathering her wrapper about her. The opportunity to minister to their needs with her hands and heart acted as a tonic to her spirits.
Suddenly she had a family again!
Forty-Two
SEPTEMBER 1746
Having committed Culodina to the care of his mother so as to make sure neither of them would be endangered by his presence, Sandy again made preparations to leave Baloggan.
“I have made arrangements with Baillidh at Tullibardglass Hall,” he said. “He will know if Sorley returns again and will get word to you, Mother. If that should happen, take Culodina to Sarah MacGregor or Sally MacKenzie. Baillidh will find a way to alert me. If I hear of danger to you, I will return immediately. But until such time, you are both better off if I am not here.”
Sandy disappeared into the night. He was gone for ten days. When he returned, the glow in his eyes told his mother he was preparing for a fight. She feared what might be the result. Dissuading him, however, proved useless.
“I must do what I can to clear my name, Mother, and to get Cliffrose back. What kind of man would I be to just let things remain as they are?”
“A man who is alive, Sandy, and free,” urged his mother. “Why can you not at least give my way a chance?”
“Your way—what is that?”
“While you were gone, I wrote to make appeal to my cousin, Duncan Forbes, who is now the Lord President,” explained Aileana. “With your father gone, I am hopeful he will feel I have paid a sufficient price for his involvement.”
“Bah! Forbes was Cumberland’s lackey, like all the others. Why should he care?”
“My mother was a Forbes, remember, and Duncan’s own aunt. He saw well enough what it was like for her after his uncle, my own father, died at Killiecrankie. Duncan always loved my mother, though their stations in life were vastly different. I think he will have sympathy with my similar plight.”
Sandy took in her words thoughtfully.
“Your father was well thought of on both sides of the conflict,” Aileana added. “And there are rumors that Duncan and the duke of Argyll have had a falling out since the battle.”
Sandy nodded. He had heard the same thing from his own contacts.
“I am hopeful that Argyll’s name on the forfeiture document,” continued Aileana, “and the fact that it was so hastily drawn up will weigh favorably on my cousin’s mind.”
“You are a crafty one, Mother, I will say that,” laughed Sandy. “I will think about what you say. But I make no promises as yet. Cousin or not, the good Mr. Forbes supported Cumberland, and that is something for which I will have difficulty forgiving him.”
Even as they were speaking, a soft knock came on the door. Sandy and Culodina jumped up from their chairs to hide in the next room. Aileana went to the door.
There stood the longtime groom of Tullibardglass Hall.
She gasped in alarm. “Baillidh!” she exclaimed. “Has Murdoch returned?”
“Not yet, m’leddy,” he replied. “Word is, hooever, that we’re t’ be expectin’ him soon.”
“That is a relief for now, at least.”
“I’m sorry to be so late, m’leddy,” the groom went on, “but gien ye ken the whereaboots o’ yer son—”
Sandy now appeared in the doorway.
“Baillidh, do you bring news?” he said.
“Ay, m’lord. ’Tis aboot the Bonnie Prince . . . he’s comin,
’ m’lord, jist like ye said.”
“Coming where?”
“He’s bound fer the glens. He’s in the care o’ Lochiel. But one o’ his men has come sayin’ he needs oor help t’ hide him while he waits fer transport t’ the Continent.”
Sandy thought a moment.
“We’ll hide him in the cave on the loch,” said Sandy. “They’ll never find him there.”
“I’ll pass word back t’ the chief, m’lord.”
“Tell Lochiel to bring the prince to Gordon’s Cage. All the provisions he needs will be supplied. Tell him to wait for me there.”
“Ay, m’lord.”
When the word came some days later, again Sandy prepared to depart, leaving the two women yet again alone in the small cottage.
“I know it is a trial for you,” he said, “but Culodina, you must remain inside and not be seen in the village. Your father has many friends. Word must not leak out that you are here.—Mother, you do understand how important—?”
“We will be safe, Sandy,” she said. “I am more anxious about you.”
“I must still be loyal to our prince. Whatever has happened, his father remains the rightful King and is still due our allegiance.”
“Be careful, Sandy!” said Culodina.
They embraced and held one another tightly for several long seconds. Then Sandy kissed his mother and walked out the door into the night.
For the next eight days, between the third and tenth of September, Sandy Gordon played host to Charles Edward Stuart at the prince’s final lodgings in Scotland. They were also the most unusual quarters he had occupied during the long sojourn that had begun the previous year or any place he had slept during his recent five months of wandering the Highlands and islands. The great cave, high on the cliff edge of the southern slope of Ben Alder, overlooking Loch Ericht, had been a favorite haunt for Sandy in his youth. Some ancient Highland wanderer had no doubt first discovered the place in an era long past in Caledonia’s history. Now it was known as Gordon’s Cage.
After eight days came word that the French privateer l’Heureux was awaiting the prince in Loch non Uamh. Again the two young men parted, the prince and his three guides embarking overland to the coast. Having eluded every effort by the British government to capture him, the prince finally sailed for France on September 20. He would never again set foot in Scotland.
An Ancient Strife Page 16