by R. W. Hughes
Fourteen
The following morning after several bowls of warming crushed oats again sweetened with honey, George, Douglas, Fiona and the cab driver left the farmhouse waved off by Branan Macghee and his family. George was leading the way followed by the cab containing Fiona. Well wrapped in extra thick woolen blankets kindly loaned by the farmer’s wife, with Douglas bringing up the rear. There were still the odd light flurry of snow and the wind was bitterly cold, but the storm of the previous day had blown its self out and between the flurries, the sun was struggling to break through the fast-disappearing dark clouds. They quickly left behind them the two slower goods wagons that had set off at the same time as themselves, the severe frost that night had left the track hard and firm under the light covering of snow so different to the mud clinging conditions of the previous day.
They were now in MacKay country and were making good time and exchanging pleasantries with the other travelers they met along the track, many of whom were personally known. However, these were uncertain times, and they were still wary until the approaching traveler could be recognized and made themselves known to either his or Douglas’s challenge. The closer the group neared the MacKay stronghold, the more mixed emotions flowed through his system. He was nervous with the anticipation of introducing his new wife to his sister, brother, uncle and the household at Tongue House, and eager to see how the clan had fared during his absence and the problems that had inevitably arose during this period. It was late afternoon and the wintery sun that had struggled all day to break through the overcast sky was beginning to set on the horizon when Tongue village came in sight and the occupiers of the dwellings that formed the settlement around the granite, fortified Tongue House came to observe the small group that had entered their village admiring the magnificent horses ridden by the riders who they quickly recognized as George, their clan chief, and his companion, Douglas Polson, resounding cheers from the inhabitants followed the party as it passed through the settlement.
It was Reverend Monroe armed with a dirk in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other who greeted the party as it came to a halt at the main entrance to Tongue House. His uncle hearing the disturbance had thought that the village was under attack and had rushed out to organize its defenses. He too by the delight on his face showed how relieved he was to see the safe return of his nephew, and moving forward with outstretched arms to greet George as he dismounted from his horse, he also took in at a glance the powerful thoroughbred animals and the face of a pretty female peering from the curtained window of a heavily mud splattered cab, with its beaming driver who at times had thought he would never reach his destination, but relieved that he had and would now receive his agreed dues and the promised escort back to the port of Wick.
The Reverend was quickly followed by George’s brother, Riavach, and sister, Ailie. Riavach was in tears of relief as he embraced George, the thought that he may have had to take over the clan leadership if any mishap had befallen his elder brother had brought him close to a nervous breakdown.
After a short hug for George, Ailie moved quickly to warmly wrap her arms around Douglas who had no hesitation in returning the warm embrace.
‘Uncle! Allow me to introduce my wife, Fiona,’ he said as he opened the door of the cab and assisted an obvious nervous Fiona to leave the vehicle.
Even though Reverend Monroe was taken aback by his nephew’s statement, and it also caused Ailie to relieve her hold on Douglas and spin around; she had not noticed the occupant of the cab as she had only eyes for George’s companion.
George’s uncle was quick to regain his composure. ‘Come! We cannot dawdle here in the cold; let us enter the house, and Ailie look after George’s wife, the young girl must be frozen travelling those distances in that carriage in this weather.’
While the servants attended to the horses and the cab driver was directed to the kitchens for warm food. George and Douglas followed the Reverend into the great hall, while Ailie organized Fiona’s clothes chests to follow them up the large winding staircase to the guest bedroom.
It was while George and Douglas were standing with their backs to the fire place which under the Reverend’s instruction Riavach had just placed several more logs before being sent to the cellar for a decanter of whisky with further instructions to call in the kitchen and inform the cook, if she had not already been told beforehand by the gossiping staff, that there would be three extra guests for their evening meal George knew the character of his brother and he could not help observe the way he carried out all these menial tasks without any complaints, and it was obvious that he had accepted this position, by doing so he would not have to make any decisions. Making Decisions was what Riavach seemed reluctant of doing; preferring to leave it to others so as not to be held to account if any problems arose.
Riavach returned and soon all four men had a large glass of whisky apiece with the fire was roaring in the hearth now forcing both George and Douglas from their original position to a greater distance from the heat of the flames.
‘On behalf of this household and the members and sects of the clan MacKay I raise my glass for your safe return. Dearth do Chridhe! [Strong in Heart],’ said the Reverend shouting the clan battle cry.
‘Dearth do Chridhe!’ responded George and Douglas with Riavach also joining in rather nervously a fraction later.
‘Now we are eager to hear of your experiences, so start at the beginning and tell us your story,’ asked the Reverend topping up both George’s and Douglas’s tumbler before settling himself in a comfy seat and then topping up his own glass from the decanter.
George started from the beginning of their journey from leaving with the stock on the animal transporter up to reaching the Jacobite Army’s rearguard with little reaction except the occasional nod of approval from his uncle. It was only when George described the incident at the village of Winkle on the outskirts of the Cheshire town of Macclesfield, where young Collain Morgan had met his fate at the hands of the local Militia that the Reverend could not contain himself.
‘The poor bairn he was so young and so far from his home, God rest his soul.’
George took a small sip from his glass before continuing with his story; there was no further interruption from his uncle until he reached the marriage of Fiona and himself onboard the coaster. His uncle’s reaction startled George causing him to step back in alarm.
‘You were married by the captain of a coaster on board his ship!’ shouted the Reverend Munro jumping from his chair. ‘And I suppose this charlatan; this Captain took your money for this fraudulent act of impersonating a minister of the church.’
His uncle’s sentence had left him speechless as its contents slowly sank home. He glanced at his friend Douglas for some support, but the large Highlander’s face looked bemused having not quite grasped the implications of what the Reverend had said, but he managed to stutter out, ‘It was Fiona who paid the captain with her jewelry.’
This statement left the Reverend holding his head in his hands a deep moan coming from between his fingers breaking the deathly silence in the room. However, the Reverend had not finished and carried on with his tirade.
‘Not only have you risked your lives and jeopardized the wellbeing of the Clan MacKay with your absence, but you have also disgraced the previous good character of a young lady which we will have to rectify immediately.’
The conversation was cut short by the entrance into the room of George’s sister closely followed by Fiona. ‘Whose good character has been disgraced?’ Ailie repeated, having overheard the latter part of her uncle’s sentence as she had entered the room.
There was a prolonged silence from both George and Douglas, and Douglas who realizing his friend’s predicament now looked very sheepish. It was left to Reverend Munro to break the silence and explain the problem to the women and then offer a solution.
‘I am afraid contrary to popular belief that capt
ains of ships, unless they are also ordained ministers of the church, which in this case is not so, cannot perform a marriage ceremony at sea. Therefore, I suggest if you so wish, I will marry you at the earliest opportunity, which I suggest should be New Year’s Eve. That will give you both time: to send messengers to inform the clan, for the kitchen staff to organise your wedding meal and for you to arrange accommodation in and around the village for your guests. It will also give time for Fiona’s parents to be contacted.’
‘My parents will not be attending my marriage to George, Reverend Monroe,’ answered Fiona in a clear voice. ‘I would like to accept your kind offer and I am positive that George feels the same as I.’
‘Aye! I do,’ voiced George moving across the room to stand alongside Fiona and his sister.
‘It is the custom of the Clan MacKay that when the chief is betrothed invitations to attend are delivered to all the leaders of the sub clans and septs associated to the clan,’ Reverend Monroe was now speaking to the two couples as Douglas had also crossed the room to stand beside Ailie. But at the same time, he did not show the confusion he was feeling, regarding the fact that Fiona did not want her parents’ presence at the wedding. ‘To not do so would be considered an insult to these men, but these are not ordinary times, and they will understand and those a greater distance from Tongue House would rather stay close to their homes where they can protect their families, properties and livestock. No doubt there will be sufficient of those from the immediate area who will attend to celebrate this ceremony in true MacKay tradition.’ Reverend Monroe smiled as Douglas gave a great war cry and wrapped his great arms around George, Fiona and Ailie trapping all three in a great bear hug.
‘You have much to do, and little time to do it,’ continued Reverend Monroe.
‘Servants have to be sent to the outlying areas of our land to notify all who wish to attend the ceremony, and I suggest with the weather being so bad you organise this forthwith. And then, George, I would like to see you later there are several issues that we need to discuss.’
The group left the room, Fiona and Ailie excitedly making plans for Fiona’s wedding on what the bride would wear and George with his arm around his young brother’s shoulders at the same time in deep conversation with Douglas who was following close behind; they were already planning which servants were to be sent and to where.
Now left on his own the Reverend with his back to the fire thoughtfully pondered on the situation that had presented itself with the return of his nephew.
He knew that, the cab driver would have already been quizzed by the kitchen staff about the young lady that accompanied their clan chief. Another marriage ceremony, when they were supposed to be already married and had been sharing a bed together, would fan the flames of gossip which would be rife in the village, and quickly spread throughout the area. Many would delight in taking the opportunity to deride the MacKay name, especially those whose sympathies lay with the Jacobites. The sooner the ceremony was over and the couple legally married the quicker the gossip would lose its appeal and fade away.
But the news that he had recently received that the Prince with his army intact had re-entered Scotland was worrying information, very worrying information indeed. Still the good news was that in his absence, a company made up of the MacKays and their supporting clans, and led by George’s cousins, John and James MacKay, had been involved and assisted in the liberation of Fort Augustus, with only minor casualties, which at the time had been held by Clan Fraser of Lovat and the Jacobite supporters.
Fifteen
The next few days were a hive of activity in and around Tongue House. Messengers were sent to all the leaders of the clans associated with the MacKays informing them of the coming wedding of their chief, George Charles MacKay to his betrothed Fiona Russel, and they were most welcome to attend the celebrations, but it would not be considered a sign of disrespect if they did not grace their chief with their presence if they felt it was prudent not to leave their homes in the country’s present state of unrest.
‘Most elegantly put,’ commented Douglas as he read a copy of the invitation showed to him by George which was being delivered by riders to the surrounding areas. ‘Even if the leaders decide not to attend, they will most likely send a representative. You are held in high esteem George, your leadership at the battle of Loch Royal and your attempt to return the young Collain Morgan to his family, has made you a hero in the eyes of the clan members, and a grudging respect from those that have leanings towards the Prince.’
‘You were with me on both occasions, Douglas, and without your assistance I could not have possibly succeeded.’
‘You do yourself an injustice, George. You are a born leader and during these uncertain times the clan needs a strong chief, and you have proved yourself on numerous times, your supporters will follow you to the ends of the earth if you so requested.’
‘Your praise embarrasses me. Let us change the subject. We have this message from the French, and after the wedding we need to form a plan of action, as I have yet to discuss our find with my uncle, and it will need a strong force of men to leave our lands which will weaken our defensive position here. My uncle may not feel the risk for the rewards available worthwhile.’
‘Your uncle can advise you, George, but you are the clan leader and hold the title of Lord Reay, so the decision is yours to make and you must follow your instinct.’
What Douglas had said was true, which left him pondering thoughtfully for a moment.
Douglas was correct. At the end of the day he, and he alone, must take the responsibility and make the necessary decisions of either to stay with his men within the reasonable safety of the MacKay borders, or to risk splitting his forces and travelling with only half his men through enemy held territory on what could well turn out to be a wild goose chase.
It was a difficult decision he had to make, he was well aware of the risks involved. If they were discovered and attacked by a superior force while so far from their own boundaries it could end in disaster, also if their enemies were aware that their forces defending their lands were weakened they might feel bold enough to attack, or if they were in sufficient numbers break through their lines to join the Prince’s forces.
He was surprised by the positive and instant response to his wedding invitations brought back by the returning messengers. It seemed that Douglas was correct in his assumption that all the families contacted would be either attending with their families or those on the fringes of the MacKay lands would be at least sending a representative. It was several days later when he was in his uncle’s study finalizing details of the wedding that he broached this subject.
‘We are in uncertain times, George,’ started the Reverend, as he tried to make himself comfortable on the hard chair behind his desk. ‘Apart from the curiosity you have aroused in the area with your return and accompanied with a bride-to-be and her outstanding beauty, which so many wishing to attend to view for themselves, your reputation has been further boosted by the tales of your exploits told by your friend, Douglas, and the more drink that passes his lips the more flowery becomes his story. However, it will also be a rare opportunity for everyone to laugh drink and be merry and forget for a short while this war that is ravaging Scotland, for they all know that if the MacKay clan and its followers are drawn into this conflict, there will be many casualties, and the heads of many families will be lost.’
His uncle was only stating what he was already aware of, and he had decided that once he had discussed and finalised the accommodation arrangements for so many guests, he would show his uncle the parchment and translation of the details concerning the French gold shipment. It was decided that wherever possible families travelling from the outlying settlements would, if they had relations in the immediate area, stay with those. Every other nearby property having spare accommodation would make it known to the Reverend so that wedding guests could be accommodated.
‘There will be many single men from families of clan members, who understandably do not wish to leave their homesteads undefended but out of respect to you will send a representative, and there are not the properties and spare beds available to take so many,’ said a concerned George.
‘I suggest they should be housed in the barns near Tongue House; the conditions would be spartan, but dry, with hot food supplied from our kitchens.’
‘Aye, and if sufficient whisky is made available, they will think they are in paradise,’ George said, relieved that this particular situation that had been worrying him had been so easily resolved.
With most of the pressing details concerning the wedding finalized, he brought up with his uncle the subject of the clan’s finances.
‘The sale of the cattle and the whisky fetched a good price and brought in much needed revenue,’ said the Reverend as he opened a large leather-bound ledger lying on his desk. ‘But with supporting the dependents of the families of those lost or badly maimed in the skirmishes with the Sutherlands, and restocking and building up our supply of muskets and pistols whenever they become available, and black powder which has risen to twice its price since these troubles started, all that money from the cattle and whisky sale is no more.’
‘So my wedding, the celebrations, and the cost involved come at a bad time,’ he said rather sheepishly.
‘It will be a sad time indeed if the day ever arrives when the leader of the Clan MacKay and his bride cannot be given the celebrations that warrant such a joyous occasion,’ replied the Reverend sternly.
It was at this point that he thought it would be an opportune moment to bring up the subject of the French gold shipment. And after a brief explanation which included the nun’s involvement and the appearance of one of the translators from Edinburgh known only as Magnus, who he had seen recently in the company Nicolas Duncan, so they could safely assume that the Earl of Sutherland would have some knowledge of what was happening. He also showed his uncle the two pieces of parchment and the translation also on separate sheets.