by R. W. Hughes
‘This captain is a wealthy man, George. The up-keep of these gardens alone could feed my village for the year.’
‘Yes! But observe the armed guards patrolling the property and outbuildings. I feel this captain has had previous visits from our countrymen. His horses will be in the stables, which I suspect will be through that gate and in the high-walled courtyard.’
‘Nothing as easy as two horses loose in a paddock,’ grunted Douglas.
‘You need to look on the bright side, Douglas. At least the horses will be close to the saddles. It’s the armed guards who are the problem, so we need a diversion but we cannot separate. It will take one of us at least half an hour to saddle two of the horses, and that would be far too long.’
The plan had already formed in his mind but it was risky. Both friends could end up dead, wounded, captured or locked in some stinking English jail facing a hangman’s noose for theft.
‘We will make our move just before dawn, Douglas. Hopefully by then after a long night, the guards will not be as alert. If we’re successful, we’ll be riding the horses in the early morning light and not blindly in the darkness.’
Douglas just grunted as he settled down for an uncomfortable night. He had stopped being impressed by the calculating brain of his companion; he now just took it all for granted.
They waited until the faint light could be seen in the eastern sky before they made their move. They were fortunate that it was an overcast night and no moon as they made their way silently towards the farthest paddock. A previous inspection of the outskirts of the property had showed several small haystacks a short distance from the outbuildings. Using their flint and steel, they started a fire where they had dug deep into one of these mounds to find dry material. They had chosen one that was positioned on the opposite blind side to the building, knowing it would take quite a while and be quite established before it was observed by the armed guards. Moving back past the closed gate leading into the courtyard, they found a stretch of wall more weathered than the rest with gaps where the mortar between the stone blocks were missing, this gave George, with a lot of noisy scrabbling against the stonework and grazing his knees and ripping his trews in the process, access to the top of the wall but this was only achieved with the help of a hefty push from Douglas. It seemed inevitable that the noise they made in the process would be heard by the two watchmen, but there was no shout of alarm, and all remained still and quiet.
Lying flat along the wall, he could see the entire courtyard below him. ‘There’s no sign of the guards,’ he whispered loudly down to his companion, ‘but there’s a light showing in one of the barns.’
He was now getting concerned, as there was the distinct smell of smouldering hay in the air, and the horses in the stables were also getting agitated as they too smelt the smoke that was drifting over from the smouldering haystack. The restless horses had disturbed the armed watchmen who had been shirking their patrol duties and sleeping in one of the stables. They both appeared in the courtyard; after a short discussion, they left using a small door built into the wall, following the smell of burning hay that would lead them towards the distant paddock.
‘They’ve left the courtyard,’ George whispered to his friend as he climbed back down to join him. ‘The way to the stables is clear.’
By the light of the oil lantern, they could see there were four horses in the stables, and the two men had never before seen four animals of such outstanding quality and condition. Settling the nervous animals down, they quickly saddled two of the horses.
‘I doubt if I can mount, let alone ride, such a large beast, George,’ confided Douglas as he tightened the girth strap on the animal that towered even above him.
George also had misgivings, but he put on a brave front for Douglas’ sake.
‘Have no fear Douglas! It’s just like riding a big pony; just let the horse do the work.’ But as he had told Douglas previously, they had no choice if they wanted to get back to the Highlands as quickly as possible. ‘As my uncle would say,’ he said, ‘we’ve set out our stall come hail or fine weather, the dice have been thrown, and the outcome is in the lap of the gods.’
When they entered the courtyard they had fully opened the large doors. It was Douglas that came rushing back into the stables as George finalised the fitting of his saddle.
‘The guards are back; they’re standing by the open doors.’
‘Release the other two horses and prime your pistol, Douglas. We’ll mount up in the stable, drive the other horses before us and keep low in the saddle, and don’t stop for anything. I repeat, Douglas. Don’t stop!’
Even though he had been emphatic in his last statement, he knew that Douglas would well ignore his instructions, as he would if his friend was in difficulties and needed assistance. The two spare horses released into the small courtyard were nervous. It was not quite light and the strange shadows created plus the strong smell of smoke that was still in the air were unnerving them. As he followed the loose horses and entered the courtyard from the stables, he fired the small pocket pistol in the general direction of the watchmen who were in the process of closing the large barn-like courtyard doors.
The crack of the pistol had a twofold effect! The watchmen dived for cover leaving the gateway clear; and the loose horses in turn panicked by the explosion galloped first around the courtyard then bolted for the opening, sparks flying from their iron shod hoofs as they encountered the stone cobbles followed quickly by both George and Douglas hanging on their new mounts for grim death, as their horses followed the loose animals that had bolted through the opening.
The watchmen were in a quandary. They had been forced to stay in their place of cover by the loose horses charging wildly around the courtyard, and it was more than their jobs were worth to injure their master’s horses with wild shooting. By the time they reacted and had reached the open doors, both George and Douglas were through and following the two loose horses that were galloping down the lane. Douglas was several yards in front of him as both men desperately hung onto their mounts like grim death. He took the opportunity to take a brief glance behind as lights appeared in the first floor windows of the nearby manor house and at the same time he saw the flashes of the watchmen’s weapons as they fired blindly after the disappearing horsemen.
That’s just for the benefit of their employer.
He thought, as the shots whistled harmlessly through branches above their heads. Fortunately, it was now light enough to see ahead and as they galloped along the lane the horses slowly calmed down, and they managed to eventually gain control of their mounts. This allowed himself and Douglas to adjust a little to the speed and gait of the larger animals. Farther down the lane, they came across and even managed to catch and tether the other two loose horses that they found grazing at the side of the grassy bank, and these settled down quickly, keeping calm at the familiar smell of their stable companions.
One of the Scottish wagon drivers carrying sacks of oats, who had about turned his transport on news of the Prince’s retreat, was desperately concerned of who was going to pay for his full complement of supplies. The man could not believe his luck when he was offered a thoroughbred mare in exchange for two sacks of oats and some other minor provisions.
Both men left the happy waggoneer towing the horse at the rear of his large cart, while they continued their journey with the sacks of oats strapped across the rear of their spare mount, enjoying the pleasure of riding two of the finest horses in the county, much to the envy of the bedraggled foot soldiers of the Scottish Army they passed as they travelled along the main highway leading to the city of Edinburgh.
‘I see you’ve stopped looking behind you, Douglas,’ commented George as they stopped at a camp of waggoneers who were attempting to cook the carcass of a full sheep on a spit, struggling in the heavy rain to keep their fire burning.
‘Yes, George! I had visions of Captain Th
ornton tracking us with his band of armed Militia.’
‘Captain Thornton will be struggling to follow anyone, considering we have all his horses. When we arrive in Scotland you can send the captain a letter, thanking him for putting at your disposal such magnificent animals, and apologise for the fact you could not keep the appointment that he had arranged outside the Priory.’
The thought of the look on the face of Captain Thornton if he received such a letter caused both men to burst into uncontrollable laughter. They were oblivious of the odd glances from the dejected group of men around them who wondered what anyone had to laugh about in such miserable conditions.
It was an incident that night that caused the two friends to decide not to share the camps of the retreating soldiers in future, but to bivouac independently, and away from the main road. George was having trouble sleeping, possibly because his stomach was having difficulty digesting the half-cooked mutton he had eaten earlier, but the snoring of his friend told him that Douglas was having no such problems. It was the nervous whinnying of one of their horses that set his alarm bells ringing. Quietly rising from under the wagon from where he had been sheltering from the worst of the heavy rain, he cocked his small pistol and crept in the shadows to their tethered mounts. What he saw sent a shiver of panic through his frame. There were two men, and one was attempting to untie one of their horses from its fastenings but was struggling to control the big animal. His companion holding a musket was anxiously acting as look-out, cursing his friend to keep the animals quiet so they didn’t alarm the whole camp. There was no time to go back and wake Douglas. The thieves could be well on their way in a matter of minutes taking with them his and Douglas’ speedy transport back to the Highlands. He had little difficulty keeping to the shadows making his way to within several steps of the lookout, who seemed more concerned with watching his companion struggle with the horses and cursing him under his breath than perform his duties. Two quick steps placed him at the side of the guard; pushing the man’s musket away with one hand, he placed the end of the barrel of his small pistol against the temple of the surprised man.
‘You and your friend have the option of leaving in one piece or your brains will be scattered in the grass behind you and your friend will feel the sharpness of my sword.’ The man knew when the odds were stacked against him, and with a warning shout to his companion to abandon their attempts of horse theft, he dropped his musket turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him; to be swallowed in the darkness. But his friend was made of sterner stuff and was not prepared to relinquish such a rich prize without a fight. Releasing the ropes of the horses he made a grab for a pistol stuck in his belt. George took several paces forward, and as his opponent cocked his firearm, he fired the small pistol into the man’s large frame. Even though the calibre of the ball was small, at such a short range the force was sufficient to spin the man around, banging into the flank of the very nervous horse, which reared knocking the man to the ground. But despite the gunshot wound in his shoulder, the man was up in a trice, running after his companion; he was also swallowed up by the night. The discharge of the pistol had awakened the camp, who thought they were under attack from the local Militia; the bleary-eyed men struggling in the darkness to find and cock their weapons.
‘Be calm! Be calm! My friends,’ he shouted, walking into the centre of the camp with his hands out stretched. ‘Have no fear. It was just two thieves attempting to steal our belongings, and they have now departed.’ The last thing he wanted were men who were still half-asleep firing blindly in the dark at shadows and possibly at one another, eventually he managed to calm the men and the camp settled down once more.
By the time they had re-saddled their horses and loaded the spare with their supplies dawn was breaking, both men departed the camp leaving the remaining occupants some oats to be boiled for their morning meal.
During the following day, he confided in Douglas his observations.
‘On our return journey northwards Douglas, I have observed the men we have passed on the road. There is no spirit left in the followers of this Prince. I believe they are already a beaten force before they ever come in contact with the English Army.’
‘I agree with what you say, George. They look indeed a pathetic broken bunch of Scotsman. But do not underestimate these men, when the time comes, they are still capable of fighting as good if not better than any other soldier in the known world.’
Douglas’s reply surprised him, the fact that his friend could show such feelings and respect against so many sworn enemies of his own clan.
They had made excellent progress, due in no small way to the thoroughbred mounts. Rotating the horses regularly they ate up the miles and within a few days were camping off the main road on the outskirts of Edinburgh.
He had been pondering all night deciding a course of action, which he knew would not go down well with his friend.
‘I have friends in this city, Douglas who will translate the rest of this document. I will travel alone on foot, these fine horses will draw to much attention, and they could well be confiscated to serve in the English or Scottish cavalry. All being well, I will return before dark, but if I don’t, you will know that I’ve fallen foul of the Prince’s supporters that are patrolling. That being the case, you must make your own way back to the Highlands.’
Douglas’s strong protests and pleadings gainst his friend going into the capital on his own fell on deaf ears, and George left at first light of dawn, on his way into the Royalist controlled city of Edinburgh.
He found the city of in a state of disorganisation and the troops there on the verge of panic. The soldiers occupying the city had only heard exaggerated rumours of the Prince’s retreat, with several English armies in hot pursuit, the threat of an attack on the city seemed imminent. He was surprised as he was never questioned or apprehended as he entered the city. He had difficulty finding his friend Kean, who had acted as a go between Fiona’s and his own correspondence to and from the Americas. He had moved lodgings several times since university. But his perseverance eventually paid off, and after many false calls he was directed to a large house that had seen better days set in its own walled, but very untidy garden situated on the outskirts of the city.
The building had at some stage had been converted into small single bedrooms being rented to anyone who could pay the low-rent demanded for this poor-quality accommodation. He was greatly relieved when it was his old friend Kean who answered the door to his loud frustrated banging on the iron knocker. He was made most welcome, especially as he had brought some of the provisions traded previously for the horse. Food being extremely scarce in the city, Kean informed him the residents felt they were living under siege conditions. Work as a shipping clerk, which was his profession, was very scarce in the present uncertain times.
‘My neighbour speaks fluent French, George. I know he his short of money and struggling to pay this month’s rent, so I am sure he will translate the document willingly for a small fee’.
This is not what George wanted to hear, his own funds were depressingly low, but he was desperate to have the document translated.
‘Can this man be trusted, Kean?’ he queried of his friend.
‘Of the short time I have known my neighbour, I have found him to be honest, but these are strange times and I can vouch for no one a hundred percent these days.’ George pondered for a while.
The document was of little use to him if he did not know its contents, and without knowing its contents, he could not decide or plan a course of action.
‘Ask your neighbour to translate the document Kean, but find out the cost first if you please. My funds are at a low point also, and there is a long journey ahead of me.’
He had refrained from mentioning the fact he was travelling with a companion, he could trust his friend but idle gossip could make his task harder.
After the usual trivialities and introducti
ons, the document was duly passed over to Kean’s neighbour, who had unfortunately been placed on short time by his employer the previous day, and had just returned from looking around the city for cheaper accommodation. He was most eager to earn some extra money, as he too had debts to settle and outstanding rent to find. George observed the translator’s eyes widen as he read the document and scribbled the translation onto a plain sheet of paper. But he was immediately put on his guard when the man asked to see the other half of the document, being most persistent, even when he steadfastly refused. This set alarm bells ringing in his brain causing him to be highly suspicious of the man’s intentions.
As he left the property, looking back on the large house as he closed the gate to the garden, he observed the translator watching him from his window above Kean’s room. Even though he had obtained the information he required, there had been something about their meeting that had left him with a great feeling of trepidation. Kean from his window on the ground floor also watched his friend depart down the narrow street, he looked a sorrowful figure in his ripped and dirty clothes, hardly the attire he thought, to visit your prospective father-in-law without a prior appointment and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Also watching George leave the property from his window on the floor above, the translator Magnus Duncan thoughtfully rubbed the stubble on his chin with his thumb. if George had known this man’s surname, he would have definitely declined his friend Kean’s offer of approaching his neighbour who was a member of a clan bordering the MacKay lands.