Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

  They entered the city through the gates guarded by the pickets who had furnished them with their information, and made their way to the commercial section of the town. When several streets away from their destination, he left Douglas protecting the cart while he went on alone to the address of the agent, who they had dealt with many times before in the past with the sale of their beef cattle and the merchandise they were in the process of delivering today.

  As he stood observing the length of the street from the entrance of a cobbler’s shop, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening. The occasional pedestrian hurrying along the street well wrapped against the bitter wind that whistled down between the narrow buildings, gave the area a sense of normality, allowing him to relax a little. Two sets of three knocks in quick succession was the agreed signal and he was quickly ushered into the office of the agent after the assurances from the agent that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place in the area apart from the fact that the Royalist forces occupying the garrison had departed on the arrival of the Jacobite army many weeks previous and that the castle was in the process of being destroyed, as another load explosion shook the building bringing a fine cloud of dust from the study ceiling.

  He concluded that while people’s attention was being diverted by the action around the castle, this would be a prime time to conclude their business so he quickly went to re-join Douglas. They hurriedly brought their cart into the courtyard at the side of the agent’s, and after he had sampled the contents of each cask, the agreed payment in gold was transacted, and within twenty minutes they were both back in the street with their cart of hens and piglets, less the wooden casks but with a money belt heavy with gold sovereigns securely fastened around Georges waist.

  ‘Well that’s the first part of our mission accomplished Douglas, and the agent wanted to know if we could provide more of our nectar as soon as possible.

  The agent has not changed his views since our last meeting; he still feels like many of the business fraternity that for Scotland to break with England would be a disaster for the Scottish economy. But these minor skirmishes in which the Jacobites have been successful have brought many supporters to their cause. I have told him of our present lodgings, and he will send word if his discreet enquiries will bring any news of a French ship approaching Inverness or the most likely inlet that such a ship may drop its anchor unobserved.’

  ‘You place much faith in this man, George, informing him of our position, support and loyalties seem to change daily like the wind, depending on the success or failure of the opposing forces, and he is aware we carry many gold sovereigns.’

  ‘I understand your concern for our safety Douglas, but I can vouch for this man he has dealt for many years with our family, and I have always found him to be fair and honourable in his transactions with our clan.’

  Douglas shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of his friend’s faith in the agent as they made their way from the commercial area into a less prosperous area bordering the city’s port. This consisted of ale houses and cheap accommodation catering for the sailors and the dubious entertainment industry that bordered all such dock areas.

  Before Douglas could reply, their path was blocked by a group of men tumbling out of the entrance of one of these many establishments and even though it was still quite early in the day, they were obviously in a merry mood from too much intoxicating liquor.

  ‘I now understand why the agent was so eager to obtain new supplies,’ he said to Douglas. ‘He as a full army of customers waiting to be served and prepared to pay a premium for quality merchandise.’

  The group of men congregated around the cart, referring to the similarity of one of their group to the largest of the piglets. Both George and Douglas were tense; under the thin layer of straw were their broad swords and muskets, the discovery of these hidden weapons would cause suspicion and possible conflict. This was the worst possible situation that they could find themselves in, surrounded by a well-armed drunken group, with curious parties of onlookers watching the proceedings from their positions outside the overflowing ale houses that stretched down the narrow street. The street was too narrow to attempt to turn the cart around and return to the quieter area they had just left. To try and race the cart down the street was out of the question; pulling the cart containing the two heavy men plus the other goods, their pony was incapable of raising its pace above a trot and not a gallop, which is what, would be required to take them clear from the centre of this boisterous group. ‘We will bolt the way we have come, Douglas, and leave the cart.’

  ‘I will not leave my father’s broadsword to this rabble and you should not do the same,’ responded Douglas.

  He sighed inwardly at his friend’s stubborn reply, he then took a deep breath and tensed himself as he followed Douglas’s action and slipped his hand under his cloak and grasped the handle of his pistol.

  Help for the two men’s predicament came from an unexpected quarter with a shout from several bystanders behind them.

  ‘The Prince is coming! Bonnie Prince Charles is coming!’

  The group around their cart quickly moved to join the men who had raised the shout, followed by the rest of the men who had been congregating outside the ale houses further down the street. Douglas dismounted from the cart to hold and settle the pony that was getting quite agitated at the large number of bodies pushing passed it. As Douglas led the pony down the now empty street, George stood and looking back above the heads of the gathered throng. He caught the glimpse of a slim well-dressed figure riding a black stallion, smiling as he waved his hat to the now cheering crowds.

  Their exit from Inverness was as uneventful as their entrance; the sentries on the gate not giving them a second glance, and with Douglas leading the pony, they made their way back to a deserted and burnt-out cottage where they had stayed the previous night, which was ideal as it was just a short distance from the main road into the city. They had just bedded their pony down for the night with some hay and a handful of oats when they were startled by the appearance of a group of four men entering the room through the broken doorway.

  ‘We saw the light from yon fire,’ said the man at the front of the group, ‘if you don’a object to our company, we would like to share its warmth on this bitter night.’ Initially relieved that the group on the face of it were only travellers and not a patrol from the Jacobite forces or potential robbers, George gestured with a sweep of his arm for them to make themselves comfortable, as much as was possible in the Spartan surroundings of the ransacked cottage.

  ‘Add some more oats to the porridge, Douglas,’ said George. ‘We can do no more than share our meagre fare with these fellow travellers.’

  This gesture relieved the tension that he had felt when the men had first entered the room; it was relieved even more after Douglas had handed round his flask of strong whisky.

  ‘This is indeed powerful fluid,’ voiced the man who had first spoken and George judged was the leader of the group, as he partook in his second dram from the flask offered by Douglas.

  ‘Yes! We were in the city earlier today and they had just received a supply of this excellent whisky,’ said Douglas as he took the flask and offered it to the man’s companions. With warm food in their belly and the strong whisky beginning to take effect the men were becoming quite talkative.

  ‘We are from the Clan Sinclair and are here to join the Prince and his army. It has taken us longer to make the journey from the Orkney Isles because that bastard leader of the Clan MacKay has men patrolling the passes through his lands.

  ‘The pox on his soul,’ voiced one of the other men bitterly.

  ‘Aye! That’s true. Many more would follow our lead if the passes were not guarded,’ voiced another one of the men. ‘Only small groups like us can risk the journey without out being spotted,’ added the fourth man.

  ‘And you two gentlemen, where do you fit in this jigsaw?
’ said the leader of the men, directing his question at George, and catching him temporarily off-guard.

  It was Douglas who answered as he again handed the man his flask. ‘We are traders; we purchase livestock from the surrounding farms and sell it at the markets.’

  ‘So! You are profiteers,’ he realised that Douglas’s intention of offering the men the extra strong and powerful whisky to make them more affable, had in effect backfired with this particular Jacobite. He was, in fact, becoming aggressive.

  ‘No! No!’ George answered quickly. ‘We are from the Clan Fraser, and we are loyal supporters of the Prince. Do we look like wealthy profiteers?’ he volunteered as he spread his hands to show his worn and threadbare clothes, and lifted his foot to show his big toe poking through a hole in the front of his shoe. His action brought a burst of laughter from the man and his companions and Douglas quickly returned his flask back in the pocket of his large coat.

  The following morning after sharing the last of their porridge, and much to the relief of George and Douglas the four men left for their short journey to Inverness to join the Prince’s Army.

  It was as he was foraging around the cottage for firewood that he noticed a lone figure making his way towards the cottage. The man’s furtive actions made him suspicious, and quickly keeping out of sight, he made his way in a large circle to come up behind the man, at the same time checking that he was indeed alone.

  As he came up quietly behind the stranger, his footsteps deadened by the recent overnight fall of snow he recognised him as the assistant who had opened the gate into the agent’s courtyard the previous day.

  ‘Good day to you, sir!’ George said, smiling as the man jumped around startled at his voice.

  ‘AH! You startled me, sir,’ he replied placing his hand over his heart in an explanation of surprise. ‘I have a message to deliver from my employer, and I was not sure if I had followed the directions correctly that had been given to me. I waited until the other four travellers had departed before I ventured any further towards this building.’

  ‘I compliment you, my friend, as it was most sensible and a wise thing to do.’

  The man rummaged in his undershirt under his heavy over garment and produced a plain folded piece of parchment which he passed over to George.

  ‘I bid you good day, sir. I will return the way I came. I do not feel happy in these surroundings, so many unsavoury characters roam the area.’

  Douglas joined George attracted by the conversation, and both men watched the messenger as he hurriedly retraced his steps back down the faint outline of a path.

  He opened parchment and read the enclosed brief message out loud to Douglas

  Ship in question attempted to enter Moray Firth. Last seen been pursued by HMS Sheerness travelling past Donach Firth.

  ‘Well that concludes our business here, Douglas. That French ship is being chased up the east coast of Scotland, and whatever cargo it was carrying to aid the Prince’s cause, it seems will be lost to him now. I suggest we make all possible speed back to Tongue.’

  ‘I could’na agree with you more. I will not be able to relax until we get back into surroundings we recognise,’ replied Douglas as he set about harnessing the pony to the cart. ‘And,’ he added with a laugh, ‘we won’t have a problem with our next meal; those hens between them have laid four eggs.’

  They made good time on their journey back through the Mackenzie country. It seemed as on their previous journey it was only the main roads through their passes that were being checked. The reason for this they concluded would be that most of their fighting men had enlisted in the Highland Independent Companies that were formed to support the Hanoverian Government, and they would be with the main army. But they did encounter a slight confrontation while travelling through the border of Mackenzie and Sutherland territory.

  The two men had been forced by deterioration in the weather to spend the night in the town of Lairg, and to continue their journey, they had decided to keep to the main passes, as the alternate mountain tracks they had used on their previous journey would be impassable. Also, there was not the necessary need for secrecy. The French ship would certainly have been overtaken and boarded by now, and its cargo, whatever it may have been, would have been seized by the British Navy.

  Snow had started to fall again in ever increasing flurries, and George was leading the pony while Douglas was taking his turn riding on the cart. On reaching a junction in the road near the end of Loch Shin, they were approached by four men, who, as both George and Douglas could see by their dress, were members of the Clan Sutherland.

  ‘Where be you two travellers going in such a hurry and in such dismal weather?’ asked the leader of the group as he ominously cocked the firing pin of a short-barrelled blunderbuss he was holding across his chest. This action in the past against previous travellers had been sufficient to allow him and his companions to search the travellers and their baggage, helping themselves at will to the odd item or food that happened to take their fancy.

  ‘We are making our way back to the territory of the Clan MacKay,’ replied George as he moved to the far side of the pony going through the motions of straightening the animal’s harness, but in reality, he was placing the animal between him and the four men. Douglas had also slowly disembarked on the far side of the cart during the conversation, so that he too had made himself a more difficult target.

  It dawned on the four Sutherland men that it was now their group who were in a vulnerable exposed position, especially as the two men had placed their hand under their cloaks, possibly taking hold of a concealed pistol and in doing so exposing the handles of their broadswords. It showed the four Sutherland men that these two were not the average traveling trader, even though their attire had given that impression.

  ‘I have the authority from the Lord Sutherland to stop and search all travellers passing through his lands during these troubles,’ voiced the leader of the four men with great confidence.

  Both George and Douglas could read what would be going through the mind of the Sutherland man.

  He and his three companions had one blunderbuss between them, they had their swords and a dirk apiece, but those were for close infighting, they were also in an open exposed position. Opposing them were two men, one sheltering behind a cart and the other behind a pony, both possibly armed with a pistol, or even two pistols apiece, so the odds were not in their favour.

  Having seen the group’s uncertainty, George decided to press home his advantage.

  ‘I am George Charles MacKay, Laird Reay of the Clan MacKay and this is my friend Douglas Polson leader of the clan of that name. We do not wish to be stopped, and any attempt by you or your comrades to search us or our belongings will be resisted most violently.’

  Here he stopped to allow his words to be absorbed by the four men.

  ‘So, gentlemen,’ he continued, ‘I wish you good day.’

  Having made his position crystal clear to the four men, he proceeded to lead the pony with his free hand along the track keeping the body of the animal between him and the group of four Highlanders, while at the same time keeping his other hand under his cloak. He was followed by Douglas who also kept the cart between him and the four now bemused men, who it was obvious, had no wish to tangle with two men whose fighting reputation and exploits were now legendary in the Highlands.

  It was when they were well clear of the road junction that Douglas broached the subject.

  ‘Was it wise to inform them who we are and of our whereabouts, George? They will be hot scuttling back to their master with this information.’

  ‘The information of our whereabouts is of little use to them now, Douglas, and they will no doubt have already been informed of the position of the French ship just as fast as we were.’

  Both men arrived back in Tongue on the afternoon of the 24th March; they were cold, hungry and weary after
their journey, but highly elated that they had returned with sufficient funds to keep the Reverend Monroe happy. He could now reduce the clan’s pressing debts which were mounting steadily having to accommodate and feed the men from the Inverness garrison. After leaving the pony and the live contents of the cart in the capable hands of Silthig at the stables of Tongue House, Douglas went looking for Ailie while he made his way to the kitchens in search of Fiona. Not finding her there he raced upwards to the great hall, taking the stairs three at a time. Even though his visit to Inverness had been necessary and most profitable, he was looking forward to their reunion; he had missed tremendously her warm welcoming smile and her pleasant personality during his short absence from Tongue House, and uppermost in his mind was just to hold her close and feel her body next to his own.

  Eighteen

  It was the following afternoon during the regular meeting with his uncle and Riavach that he and Douglas told the details of their experiences in Inverness, and the failure of the French supply ship to join with the Jacobite forces, including the minor confrontation with the Sutherland men.

  ‘Well, we at least now know that they are keeping a watch on their passes,’ commented the Reverend. A heavy knocking on the door stopped further conversation and Riavach being the nearest opened the door, to reveal standing in the opening the old stable hand Sithig.

  ‘Yes, Sithig!’ said the Reverend as the stable hand continued standing in the centre of the doorway struggling to regain his breath after obviously making great haste on climbing the narrow stairs to the study.