Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

  The Reverend read the translation, and as George watched he saw his uncle’s eyebrows rise in amazement, and then as if not to believe his eyes, he read the papers again. Having finished the second reading, the Reverend placed the manuscript on his desk and leaning back on his chair he gazed at George thoughtfully scratching his chin.

  ‘This is a very intriguing situation George, very intriguing indeed. If as it seems this Frenchman did not deliver his message to a representative of the Prince, then it is possible the Jacobites are still not aware of the place or the date of this ship and its proposed arrival on the east coast of Scotland. The nuns, who we must assume are supporters of the Prince, know only that a ship will arrive carrying funds; we must assume this means gold and possibly armaments and they know the approximate date, but they do not know the ships destination port. This Magnus, seen in the company of the Sutherland murderer, knows the destination and approximate date but is not aware of the contents of the cargo. Moreover, like us they are also supporters of the Crown; most interesting. Will he’r the twain meet, that is the question. We must assume that because of the secrecy, the Sutherlands will realize that there is something of great value being delivered by this ship and will plan accordingly. You did well, George. Your training in the law practice certainly paid dividends, as you showed much common sense. The problem is where we go from here. I have no doubt you have pondered over this problem since your return and before. Any amount of that gold that could find its way into our treasure chest would be most welcome, but it is whether to acquire it would be too high a price to pay.’

  Both men relapsed into silence deep in their own thoughts. George, ever since the Jacobite Army had returned over the border into Scotland, had been pondering on the problem which simply kept going around and around in his mind without a solution materializing. He knew his uncle too would be thinking along the same lines, and started to voice his thoughts aloud.

  ‘The ship is destined for the Port of Inverness. You, George, will have to pass through the country of the Frasers who are supporters of the rebel cause. The clans of Macintosh and many of the clan Mackenzie and Rose have also enlisted in his army and are the main clans in the area around Inverness. The town of Inverness, at the moment, is still in the hands of the Royalists and we have eighty or so of our own clan members in that garrison, but now the Prince and his army have returned over the border they may well try to take the town. You would need a large force as many as we can muster to enter that province and expect to fight your way in and a fiercer fight on your way out again. In the absence of so many fighting men from the MacKay lands, we risk opening the floodgates of attacks from Ross and Cromarty in the south and from Caithness and Orkney in the east. These Jacobite supporters deeply resent our presence here that stops them leaving their farms to join the Prince and his rebel army. You may be well looked on favourably by the Crown for bringing their enemies to battle, but you and your followers may well return to a ravaged land and with no guarantee of a successful mission.’

  These words spoken by his uncle were the exact same thoughts that would not leave his own mind, and had caused him so many sleepless nights.

  ‘There is another alternative,’ George said. ‘A small force leaving the area in secret and travelling in small groups through these regions would not arise any suspicions, especially if we gave the impression that we were supporters of the prince. The information that came our way was a stroke of luck; to abandon any action at all we would feel aggrieved for the rest of our lives, of what could have been. I feel strongly uncle we should grasp the nettle with both hands, the rewards for success far outweigh those of failure.’

  George’s uncle looked at the young man in front of him. In the short time since he had taken the title of Lord Reay and leader of the Clan MacKay, he had made an impression of a strong fearless warrior not only within his own clan, but also on the surrounding clans whose lands bordered those of the MacKays. It was this reputation and threat of swift retribution that had deterred followers of the rebel cause from Ross and Cromartie, and the many supporters from Caithness and Orkney from joining the Prince’s Army.

  ‘Well we know the date and the place, so we have ample time to make a decision. In the meantime I suggest you concentrate on the matter in hand, unless it has slipped your mind.’ The last sentence by the Reverend was said with a smile on his lips, before he continued. ‘Which if I may remind you is organizing your wedding, so be off.’

  George rose. He liked these conversations with his uncle, and the decisions that emerged from their meetings were usually based on logic and the knowledge of the situation by the older man, it lay well with him, there were usually no loose ends which placated the lawyer’s section of his brain.

  As he left the house, he stopped to watch the continuous stream of horse and bullock drawn vehicles making their way towards the village of Tongue from the surrounding countryside—either staying in farms and cottages before the village or in the hamlet itself or moving on to nearby relations. Some of the closer members of the MacKay had made their way directly towards Tongue House, where the staff were busy preparing and laying bedding in many rooms that were not bedrooms to accommodate the large influx of guests.

  The ovens in the kitchen of Tongue House were in constant use, cooking hot meals for the never-ending stream of families arriving, who were chilled after their long journey in the winter weather, and hot stews for the single men who had been billeted in the barns and surrounding outbuildings of the large house. George was surprised at the number of the clan that had accepted the invitation of Fiona and himself, neither the bad weather nor the unstable situation in the country had deterred his followers. They obviously had every intention of taking the opportunity of forgetting for a short while the civil war that was about to engulf their country, by celebrating his wedding and no doubt incorporate it in the New Year festivities as well.

  The gathering had the makings of being one of the wildest parties that had been seen in the area for many a year. He wondered what Fiona would think. She was used to the more sedate society of the city, rather than the boisterous atmosphere of a Highland wedding, but he had decided he would just go with the joyous event not even he would be able to control the merrymaking when the revelry started.

  The date set for the wedding was Friday 31st December at eleven o’clock in the morning. This would then continue into Saturday seeing in the New Year of 1746. The Reverend would then take a service in the small chapel for anyone who wished and was also sober enough to attend on the Sunday. Then, after the service, the guests would start to return to their own dwellings.

  The morning of the wedding dawned cold and crisp and a fine clear day. He had decided that his brother, Riavach, would be his best man and his friend, Douglas, in the absence of Fiona’s parents, would escort her to the ceremony. He was in the same attire he had last worn at his father and brother’s funeral, and as he made his way to the small kirk he could see as he approached the male guests dressed for this occasion in their finest MacKay or their own highland clan tartan. They had formed a guard of honor leading to the kirk entrance, and as he came closer, he had difficulty recognizing the men in whose company in the previous months he had spent so much of his time. They had removed their usually untidy beards, and were all smiling broadly as he looked in amazement at their clean shaven and well-scrubbed faces.

  As Douglas escorted Fiona into the chapel, both Riavach acting as his best man and himself had turned at the sudden lull in the low murmur of conversation, which was quickly followed by gasps from the women present. As his eyes settled on Fiona, he could understand why. He doubted if the small kirk had ever had anyone within its confines who looked as beautiful as Fiona did that morning. He felt so elated; he was indeed a most fortunate man, not only because of her beauty, but also her hidden skills of which he had never been aware of: the way she had taken charge of the kitchens and the preparing of the wedding banquet, usi
ng her dressmaking skills to make two wonderful dresses. One had been for his sister Ailie who Fiona had asked to be her maid of honor, and also her own wedding dress.

  But also, there were subtle changes he had noticed taking place in Tongue House that only a woman’s hand could accomplice. In addition, the friendship that had developed between Fiona and his sister, Ailie, as Fiona coached Ailie on the finer mannerisms that were expected of a lady in city society.

  After the ceremony, the guests who had managed to fit in the small kirk followed George and Fiona who led the way under the tunnel of drawn broadswords of the male members of the guests. Then all the people gathered outside joining in the procession as it made its way to Tongue House. It was here in the great hall where the kitchen staff had been working since first light preparing the banquet for the many visitors. In addition, they had erected extra tables outside in the garden for the vast number of the MacKay and their associate clans who could not fit in the main hall. Fortunately, the weather was cold but fine and the several braziers positioned around the garden made it a pleasant position.

  It was here that the younger members of the clan seemed to congregate, and as the evening progressed, the sound of the MacKay battle cry could be heard by the more sedate audience in the Hall. This attracted them to wander into the garden to watch as the younger revelers danced the various Scottish reels around the braziers to the sound of the bagpipes. Then competed light-heartedly with one another to show off their skills of lightness of foot and speed dancing between the crossed broadswords placed on the ground as the pipes played the Clan MacKay’s “Quick Step”. At the same time, they were being encouraged by the whoops and war-cries of their friends, whose spirits were heightened by the ample amount of free whisky readily available. The dancing went on until the early hours of the morning, but not by George and Fiona, who eventually managed to slip away, leaving the younger groups continuing with their partying.

  During the days that followed the wedding, the guests slowly departed to their own homes and the residents of the small township slowly settled down to their daily winter routine. It was a most enjoyable period for him and Fiona, if the weather was suitable, they would spend their time together riding the thoroughbred horses, or they would travel to the nearby passes to take supplies and check on the scouts whose duty was to keep watch for any large body of men that may be attempting to join the forces of the Jacobites. It was also an opportunity to show his new wife part of the territory owned by the MacKay family.

  Sixteen

  It was while he was with Riavach and Douglas Poulson at their weekly meeting with his uncle, that the Reverend disclosed his latest information of the events that were taking place in the Lowlands.

  ‘Over the border in England, the Garrison left by Charles at Carlisle castle on the 30th December, has been retaken by English troops. Following Cumberland’s orders, the officers of the Jacobite’s garrison were publicly hanged in the city’s main square and this given rise to the nickname attached to King George’s son of “Cumberland the Butcher”.’

  ‘This Cumberland has set out his stall; he does not intend to give any quarter,’ commented Douglas, the others in the room nodded and murmured in agreement.

  ‘That is not all,’ continued the Reverend. ‘Several days later, on the eighth of January to be exact, the city of Sterling fell to the Prince’s forces.’

  ‘That will be taken as a good victory by the Jacobites,’ said George. ‘When the news spreads we can expect his supporters from the west and north of us to be more inclined than ever to attempt joining his main army, I think we should increase the scouts at the passes.’

  ‘And I also suggest you consider having a larger armed force based here at Tongue, ready to respond quickly to any such attempt,’ replied his uncle. ‘It is a most logical step, and I suggest you and Douglas make a list of men that will not be missed too much from their farms. This force could be billeted here for quite a while.’

  ‘The spare available men are getting fewer,’ volunteered Douglas. ‘We already have eighty of our force supporting the garrison and township of Inverness, which is surrounded by clans that are suspecting to lean in favor of the Prince.

  ‘It has also come to my knowledge by a very reliable source that the English Navy has increased its patrols of frigates in the Moray Firth and the approaches to Inverness,’ disclosed the Reverend.

  ‘Mmm,’ replied George, thoughtfully scratching his chin. ‘Do you think it’s possible the English are aware of the French supply ship and its destination?’

  ‘Yes, it is a distinct possibility; I can also confirm from another reliable source that Magnus the translator has recently been spending rather freely in the alehouses accompanied by Nicolas Duncan.’

  The mention of Nicolas Duncan, the assassin of his father and brother, caused George to stiffen in his chair and his face muscles to harden.

  ‘If we put two and two together,’ continued Reverend Monroe. ‘Your penniless friend has been rewarded by the earl, but knowing the earl from passed experience I doubt if he would have passed this knowledge on to the English authorities. He will keep it to himself at the present and attempt to benefit and gain personally from this information. No, I think the increase in the navy patrols are just the English tightening the blockade on the Scottish coast, now that Charles’ army has returned to Scotland. And even though at present the town and fort of Inverness are in loyalist hands, with Charles and his army back in Scotland and possibly having knowledge of some part of these dispatches, we do not know what he has planned.’

  ‘I am inclined to agree with you, Uncle,’ replied George. ‘Sutherland is in the same predicament as ourselves. He too cannot send a large force of men into that area, as he would leave his own lands undefended; otherwise, I’m sure he would be prepared to attempt some form of foray to meet the French supply ship.’

  It was at this point that Douglas joined in the conversation. ‘Does that mean we will not be paying Inverness a visit?’ he said with a pained look on his face. George laughed at his friend’s expression and his obvious disappointment of missing a fight.

  ‘I’m afraid as much as I would like to oblige and satisfy your aggressive instincts, Douglas, the risks far out way any possible rewards. We risk discovery every minute we would be in that territory, also the chances of the French ship slipping through the increased English navy patrols in such a narrow channel of water are very slim, very slim indeed. Also, Sutherland is aware of our knowledge of the French ship at the moment, and I have no doubt he is aware of the extra English navy patrols; his spies are watching us very carefully to see if we make a move in that direction. Our scouts at the passes inform me they are being observed from a distance, so we must assume that these are Sutherlands men.’

  A double knock on the study door stopped further conversation.

  ‘Enter!’ shouted the Reverend. The door remained closed until Riavach sitting quietly on a corner seat and being the nearest to the door turned the handle and pulled the door open. The old man that entered was usually to be seen looking after the horses in the stables, and he was obviously embarrassed to be in the company of the men in the study. He looked around nervously then quickly moved forward to hand the Reverend an envelope.

  ‘Yon man said it be urgent, Reverend,’ he said.

  ‘Aye, thank ye, Sithig,’ came back the kind reply, the stable hand nodded then turned and slowly made his way out of the study, while Riavach closed the door behind him. Reverend Monroe looked at the envelope for a few seconds before taking a paper knife from his desk and neatly slicing the top and removing its contents.

  He read the two pieces of paper contained in the envelope, then shaking his head he looked at the three men in the room; all were looking in his direction in anticipation.

  ‘On the 17th of January, the Prince’s Army beat and routed a Royalist force led by General Hawley inflicting many casualties of
officers and men, forcing the remainder to retreat towards Edinburgh in total disorder. They also captured the Royalist Army’s baggage and supplies along with seven pieces of artillery, and they have also taken the town of Falkirk.’

  ‘It is not going well for the Royalists,’ said Douglas stating the obvious.

  ‘No that’s true,’ added George. ‘This victory will be another great moral booster for the undecided and will swell the ranks of the Jacobites. But I must also congratulate you uncle; you have many sources of information.’

  ‘To be pre-warned is to be prepared and you should continue with your inspection of the passes. This alone is a deterrent to the Jacobites’ attempt to join the Prince’s Army. From what I have been told, a total of seventeen of our clan or its sept members have already slipped away and deserted our cause to join the upstart Prince’s forces.’ The last sentence followed them as the three filed out of the study, leaving the Reverend still studying the message from his informant.

  It was as they were negotiating the narrow stairs down from the Reverend’s study that Riavach, who was leading the group, stopped and turned to face his brother who was bringing up the rear.

  ‘What will happen to the families of these men who have forsaken our cause and left to support the Prince?’

  George was taken back for a few moments it was unusual for his brother to ask a question, as he was usually as quiet as a church mouse during these meetings.

  ‘Why! Are you thinking of joining them?’ quipped Douglas before George had chance to reply. Riavach blushed and continued making his way down the stairs.