Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

  ‘Tell the captain when he regains conciseness he has paid his debt,’ George shouted, as he and Douglas slowly backed towards the rear entrance, followed by the hateful glances of the crewmen left in the room.

  ‘I think our devious Captain Barnes will have some explaining to do to those men he cheated at cards when he surfaces,’ laughed Douglas, as they made their way down the street to their lodgings.

  ‘Aye, Douglas, our Captain Barnes was indeed a charlatan of the highest order, but like all swindlers, they all have their true colours nailed to the mast in the fullness of time.’

  It was the following morning and he was paying his bill to the surprised landlord who was wondering where the man in front of him had suddenly acquired so much cash, not only for the night’s lodging for the group but sufficient to pay in advance for the bond requested by the carrier.

  It was Douglas bursting loudly into the room who interrupted their conversation. ‘The Prince’s Army have avoided the English forces under General George Wade and the Duke of Cumberland. They are retreating in good order towards the border back into Scotland.’ Douglas was about to continue but both men turned as Fiona looking rather flustered also entered the room.

  ‘Fiona! You look upset,’ he exclaimed as he moved quickly towards her at the same time reaching out to hold the frail shoulders, and then gently pulling the slim body gently towards him.

  ‘Hannah has gone!’ said Fiona handing him a half sheet of paper. He read out loud the message scribbled on the note paper.

  Dear Mistress, I feel I can support you no more; I have struggled with my conscience but have decided you are now in safe hands with your beloved, and I must now follow my own destiny. I miss the soldiers that are barracked there and the life and excitement in the city of Edinburgh. I fear that I will die of boredom trapped in those far windswept Highlands. I wish you both well and much happiness.

  Your faithful maid. Hannah Snell.

  It was Douglas who broke the silence. ‘The transporter left at dawn on its return trip to Edinburgh, and Hannah must have been on board. There is also more bad news; rumour has it that French troops have landed at Montrose under Lord John Drummond.’

  That news came as a shock to George as these rumours were usually exaggerated out of all proportion, but there was usually an inkling of truth in their origin. It was now more important than ever that he made his way back to their stronghold, Tongue House, and the lands controlled by the MacKays as quickly as possible to organise their forces and defend their borders.

  ‘Have you checked the horses, Douglas? If they’re sound and have their land legs, we leave as soon as the driver and trap arrive!’

  ‘They’re in fine fettle George! All saddled and raring to go, the innkeeper as also managed to provide two horse blankets much larger than the ones used for the smaller local ponies. He says these thoroughbred animals of ours won’t be used to the severe weather expected in the next few days, and without this extra protection, they could well collapse from under us without any warning.’

  On hearing this from Douglas, he made a mental note to thank the innkeeper for his thoughtfulness before they left. It was at that moment the sound of the carriage could be heard as it pulled up in the courtyard at the front of the inn. But as he went to the entrance of the inn, he was not as confident as his friend as he looked at the carriage driver with several layers of thick woollen cloaks and head coverings in preparation for what he knew would be a long and bitterly cold journey. And above him the dark leaden grey hominess sky that looked as if it was full of snow the distinct sign of a storm brewing. Even though he did not show or voice his feelings as he did not want to alarm Fiona, he knew it would be a treacherous and difficult journey ahead on poor roads at this time of the year. And with just a few hours of daylight and restricted by the slowness of the trap, they would be hard pressed to reach Thurso before dark.

  If there were any delays it was possible they could be marooned on the high moors with no shelter and that could well prove to be fatal. If it was just the two of them, he would not have been concerned especially with the quality of the animals they were riding, but they were restricted by the speed of the trap. He could sense the same thoughts must be going through the mind of the trap driver, who looked not only uncomfortable but miserable.

  The man would have preferred not to have offered his services, but work was scarce and he had pressing bills to pay. But even so, he was having second thoughts and would have liked to change his mind, but that was too late now. Anyway; these men would just take his trap if he refused; he would be left, never to see his form of livelihood again. No! He would have to carry on, even though his instincts screamed at him not too.

  George was relieved to clear the outskirts of Wick. Even though there were many Royalist supporters in the town, he knew there were also many that had sympathies for the Pretender’s cause. He, along with his fellow travellers, would be prime targets for the Prince’s followers if they had stayed in the town for too long. Information like the Royalist chief of the Clan MacKay was lodging in the town would be already spreading like wildfire.

  As the small party struggled along the water-filled, pot-holed track on their way towards the coastal town of Thurso, they pulled their cloaks tighter against the biting wind and the flurries of snow that swept across the exposed moorland.

  Back in the town of Wick and outside the same inn that George and his party had vacated earlier the same day, Magnus Duncan was counting his coppers to make up the charge for a room instead of sleeping rough as he had been forced to do in the freezing winter conditions for the two previous nights. He was several coppers short of the basic room. And that’s all it was: a room. No breakfast. No evening meal. No fire. Nevertheless, times were hard, and the publican may accept his offer, after all he had no choice, and it was all he had to his name, and as the light faded he shivered as he felt the drop in temperature, he knew one more night in the open and he may well not awaken in the morning.

  Twenty miles to the north on the Thurso road, George was feeling the pangs of panic in his stomach. He had previously called Douglas over to the cab where he had been sitting on his horse talking to Fiona.

  ‘Douglas! The weather is closing in and we have very little daylight left we can play safe and find accommodation in the village of Halkirk. If we decide to go to the village, we travel down this side track or press on along the main road for Thurso. We are taking a vote.’

  ‘I vote we press on,’ replied Douglas without hesitation.

  ‘I vote with Douglas,’ voiced Fiona from the open window of the cab.

  ‘What is your vote, driver?’ asked George to the driver who was surprised the fact he was being offered a vote.

  ‘I vote we play safe and find accommodation in Halkirk. We have rough ground to travel, the light is fading fast and like you say there is bad weather ahead.’

  George felt all eyes were now on him. His survival instincts were telling him to play safe and go with the driver, but something else much stronger was telling him to press on to Thurso, even though the daylight was fading fast and the gaps between the snow flurries were shorter. He looked across the moorland and he could see the track was being quickly covered in a layer of fine snow. ‘We make all possible speed; we go on to Thurso.’ Even above the howling wind he heard the groan that came from the direction of the driver.

  He was concerned for Fiona, had he made a fateful decision, even though she was sheltered from the worst of the weather by being inside the cab. She still must have been chilled to the bone, although she had not uttered one word of complaint. Not so the cab driver who was sitting at the front of the cab and taking the brunt of the weather, previously, he had been constant in his bitter complaints. But now he just perched on his seat as if frozen to the spot. He reflected if there had only been himself and Douglas they would have found a spot sheltered from the wind wrapped their shawl around
themselves and braved the night. It would have been uncomfortable and extremely cold but they would have survived until the morning, but he could not expect Fiona to endure such hardship.

  One hour later his thoughts were broken by a shout from Douglas who was riding at the front of the group. ‘Lights ahead! I see the lights of the township of Thurso.’

  There could not have been a more favourable statement from his friend and after a few more strides of his own mount he could also see the group of lights in the distance between the flurries of snow, seemingly becoming brighter as the last rays of daylight quickly diminished. They had made good time. The ground had hardened in the severe cold and the drop in temperature had made it easier for the trap as it was not constantly getting stuck in clinging mud. He breathed a deep sigh of relief; his worst nightmare had been avoided. They would have a hot meal and spend their night in a warm bed and not be struggling to survive the cold on the bleak moor as he had envisaged.

  Thirteen

  As Magnus Duncan made himself as comfortable as was possible in the cold attic of the inn, he was feeling very depressed and was regretting what he now considered a foolhardy mission. He had spent his last few pennies obtaining the room and this was the last of all his funds raised at the pawnshop in Edinburgh. He had not eaten for two days and had not succeeded in reaching his destination. He surveyed the bleak situation in which he found himself. He had nothing else left he could pawn, no money left to buy hot food or complete his journey to the lands controlled by the Clan Sutherland. If the snows came as was the talk he had overheard and he was trapped with no finances, he would die of exposure in this attic in the town of Wick. It was time for him to make a decision.

  As he made his way down the rickety staircase, he rehearsed what he would say to the innkeeper knowing the town had divided support both for the Crown and the young Pretender; he could well find himself beaten with a cudgel or worst if he was not extremely careful. As he entered the main bar of the inn, he was met by a blanket of warmth from a log fire at the end of a short bar. There were five men in the room several sitting at a table near the fire and two more standing at the wooden bar with the innkeeper. He could not help but notice all the four men were well armed with sheathed broadswords projecting from beneath their long shawls and the butt handle of pistols above their belts.

  The murmur of conversation stopped as Magnus entered, and they all turned to stare in his direction, making him feel very uncomfortable under their unwavering gaze as he made his way towards fire at the far end of the room. Exclaiming to all, but no one in general, ‘What a bitter cold night it was.’ There was no response from any of the group in the room.

  Seeing that he posed no threat the two men at the table carried on eating the hot broth in front of them, the aroma of which he could now smell drifting at that end of the bar making him feel faint with hunger, looking around he occupied an empty stool set near the fire.

  The other two men standing at the bar turned their back on him and carried on their low conversation with the landlord. He was still feeling faint but at least he was now warm this was giving him courage.

  ‘Landlord!’

  The innkeeper stopped in mid-conversation looking at Magnus who was now standing behind, and partially hidden by the two large Highlanders who dwarfed his small frame. They slowly moved aside to give him more room. Magnus took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m looking for the Earl of Sutherland or his agent.’ The landlord looked at the two Highlanders then without saying a word, turned and walked towards a door behind the bar. Magnus watched as the landlord reached the opening smiled at him, and then slowly closed the door behind him as he left the room.

  The two Highlanders at the bar had turned to face Magnus who slowly backed away towards the far wall and fireplace, aware also that the other two men at the table had also moved towards him.

  ‘You have business with the earl my friend.’ The comment came from the tallest of the four men who was obviously their leader. ‘Who are you? Are you a Jacobite?’

  One of the men spat from the side of his mouth at the sound of the name. This did not go unnoticed by Magnus.

  ‘My name is Magnus, Magnus Duncan I have information for the Earl of Sutherland; it is for his ears only.’

  ‘And what information would the likes of you have that might interest the Earl?’ The leader of the four men was standing in front of Magnus but he could sense their attitude was not as aggressive as previous.

  ‘In Edinburgh, I had a visit from a George MacKay; he had a document in French which he paid me to translate.’

  At the name of George MacKay, the tall Highlander stiffened. The reason he was at the inn was when word had reached him that Lord Reay, the Chief of the Clan MacKay was in lodging there. He had made all haste to the town with several of his armed followers. However, he had arrived too late and George and his party had departed several hours earlier. Nicolas Duncan had driven his mounts so hard they were in no fit state to follow, so he had been forced to except that he could not continue until they had been fed and rested.

  ‘The contents of this document would be of great interest and financial benefit to the earl,’ Magnus continued. ‘And good sir if you could loan me sufficient for a dram and a bowl of the hot stew, I will repay you most handsomely when I have had my meeting with his lordship, who is a distant relation of my family.’

  Nicolas Duncan pondered on what the man in front of him had to say. It placed him in a predicament, at first light in the morning he should be striving to catch George MacKay and his group. He had a score to settle with the upstart new chief of the MacKays and could not spare a man to escort this Magnus Duncan to see his uncle.

  Nicolas Duncan smiled then burst into laughter as a solution materialized that would kill two birds with one stone. ‘We too are chasing this George MacKay, my friend; bring back the landlord.’

  His order to one of his companions sent the man hurrying out of the door to carry out his leader’s instructions. He returned a few moments later closely followed by the innkeeper.

  ‘Give this guest of yours a dram and a bowl of stew; he will need his strength for his journey across the moor in the morrow.’

  Nicolas Duncan then turned to face Magnus whose look of bewilderment suddenly changed to one of fear as it dawned on him that it was him who would be traveling with the group of Highlanders across wild open countryside on their journey of vengeance. They would be in pursuit of George MacKay who at present was obviously unaware of the danger that he and his small party were in. From what Magnus had seen personally of this man and from the gossip he had also heard, George MacKay was a man who would not submit willingly without a fight of any threat to himself or his party. Therefore, he, Magnus, would be trapped in the middle of an encounter that would definitely end in a bloody conflict and possible injury to both parties, and this fear of personal injury at the forefront of his mind prompted Magnus in a desperate attempt in persuading Nicolas Duncan not to take him with them in their pursuit of George MacKay and his small party.

  ‘But, sir, the information I carry is of vital importance to the earl, and if my life should be placed in danger, the earl will not be pleased.’

  The reaction from Nicolas Duncan frightened Magnus, as it was obvious that he was not used to having his decisions questioned. He grabbed Magnus with both his hands by his jacket collar and lifted him off the ground, forcing his head against the wall with a dull thud.

  ‘The alternative my friend is to beat this information you prize so highly from your scrawny frame and leave your carcass for the stray dogs to chew on.’

  This statement brought peals of laughter from his companions still standing at the bar who were greatly enjoying the entertainment taking place before them.

  As he slowly rose from the crumpled heap on the floor where he had found himself after Nicholas Duncan had released his hold on his jacket, the room was
still spinning from the blow on his head. He staggered from side-to-side stuttering his apologies to the man standing in front of him for questioning his authority. Then slowly he made his way to the table where the innkeeper had just placed a bowl of steaming stew and a tumbler of whisky.

  He settled down on the wooden form, and while he was wolfing down the hot food that was in front of him, he had time to think of the alternatives.

  He could slip away during the night, but to where; he had no money, and if by any stroke of good fortune he managed to get back to Edinburgh, all he had waiting for him there was a debtor’s prison. He dreaded the thought of riding a pony; he had only ridden previously as a child and had painful memories of being thrown by the nasty beast. Nevertheless, if he survived these trials, the financial rewards he was sure would be well worth the risks he would have to encounter. As the large tumbler of whisky began to take effect Magnus felt much more confident as he formed a plan. He had decided if the group he was being forced to travel with did eventually catch up with this MacKay fellow, he Magnus Duncan would drop back out of harm’s way. And if they didn’t manage to overtake the MacKay party it would have at least looked as if he had helped his kinsfolk the Duncans, which no doubt would go down well when he had his meeting with the Earl of Sutherland. With these thoughts foremost in his mind and on a full stomach and the whisky now making him feel quite drowsy, Magnus had the best night’s sleep since his journey had begun, with pleasant dreams of returning back to Edinburgh in a position to pay off his many financial debts, and still having money to spare.

  George had no difficulty finding accommodation in the township of Thurso especially for someone who had cash to spend, and as he paid the landlord for their lodgings as was requested in advance, he smiled to himself at the incident in Wick that had provided the funds and the expression on the sea captain Barnes’s face as he had removed the man’s winnings from under his nose.