Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “But ye can prove it,” said Alice. “Whit about yon paper that Faither Colum gied tae ye as we were about tae flee frae the great hall? Was that no’ a certificate o’ marriage, signed by witnesses?”

  “Good Lord, I’d forgotten all about it!” She fumbled in the bosom of her jerkin, and there it was, folded up small and tucked away. It was a little worse for wear, but it was clear enough. The ink was fresh and black, and there was her name and Murdo’s, the priest’s, and several witnesses.

  Emily let out a whoosh of air from between pursed lips.

  “I will need to keep this secret. If I pull this out and give it to Clairmont he will just take it from me and destroy it; deny its existence. I must keep it secret, for I will only get one chance to use it.”

  “And you, Alice. I will not let them hurt you again. Let him marry me if he must! I will see to it that you are kept by my side. If he refuses, then by God, I will kill him before I let him hang you. I swear it!”

  Alice smiled wanly. “Mak’ nae promises ye cannae keep Emily, though if it comes tae it, I would thank ye if ye could keep me frae the gallows. I am young yet, and if I’m going tae die soon, I’d rather dae so wi’ mair purpose than that.”

  It was a bitter joke, but they both laughed anyway. Emily sighed.

  “Why do they do it?” she asked. “Your people have been resisting and fighting for so long now, but the English just keep pushing. Why? What good does it do? Sometimes I wonder if it is worth it.”

  “Why,” asked Alice incredulously? “Ye hae seen it yersel’, the contempt, the cruelty, the thievery. What makes any person resist tyranny? But there’s mair tae it than that. It’s no’ just resistance against occupation. It’s deeper than that. We dae it for the love o’ the land, ye see. For the love we bear the lochs, and the hills, and forests; for the love o’ the glens.”

  “For the love of the glens,” Emily repeated thoughtfully.

  * * *

  Evening deepened into night, and the inside of the cell was becoming gloomy when both heard the distinctive sound of footsteps outside in the corridor. The steps halted outside the door, and there was the jingle of keys before a heavy fist banged three times on the wood.

  “Prisoners, stand back from the doors!”

  They sat frozen as the keys clanked, and the door swung open. Framed in the doorway and flanked by two burly guards, stood Emily’s father. Her heart leapt with a sudden flash of hope. Surely he would not see her mistreated?

  Captain Nasmith looked grey and tired. His usual powdered wig was gone, and his short-cropped, thinning brown hair stuck up above his knitted brows. His eyes were puffy, through drink and lack of sleep. His uniform looked rumpled. Taking a few steps into the room, he gave a theatrical sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He was aiming for a stern, fatherly disapproving look but missed it by a mile and instead came across as tired and somewhat harassed. Nor could he hide his relief at seeing his daughter safe and sound. Neither of the women moved.

  “Well, we meet again,” he said.

  “So we do,” Emily spike warily. “Father, are you well?”

  He sighed, walked into the room a few paces, looked for a place to sit and found none.

  “I am well, my dear, yes, though I have been frightfully worried about you these past few weeks. If it were not for Major Clairmont’s diligence, I don’t think we would have got you back at all.”

  She laughed, bitterly, at his idea of Clairmont’s ‘diligence’. Emily knew well how his ‘diligence’ had played out for her. The laugh made him angry, and he clenched his hands into fists.

  “You have behaved like a foolish child and whether this maid put you up to it is neither here nor there. We are at war with this rebel scum, and you two have ben in cahoots with them. What possessed you? You were not captured by them, you deliberately left and went with them! It beggars belief!”

  “Father, you do not understand. If you would just let me explain…”

  “You are damned, right! I do not understand, and I have no wish to do so. I will let it pass as foolishness, but I have no wish to hear your explanation.”

  She opened her mouth to speak again.

  “No!” he said firmly, holding up one hand. “By rights, you should both be tortured, since you have valuable information which could help in our fight to bring peace to this damned land, and then you should both be hanged for treason! But Major Clairmont seems to have other ideas, and I have convinced him that you should be given a second chance, both of you. We have determined that you and he will be married and that Alice Murphy should be married to one of his household. He will choose in due course. It is a Christian act of mercy that has caused him to listen to my entreaties, and I have prevailed on him to allow you both out of this cell and move into private rooms higher up in the keep. You will be fed and clothed as befits a lady and her maid, and treated as such. You shall not be prisoners, save that you shall not leave the castle grounds. All you must do is pledge to me your good behaviour, and swear that you will make no attempt to leave, nor cause any trouble for the garrison here, now or in the future. Will you swear this?”

  They glanced at one another, knowing the answer.

  “I shall,” said Emily.

  “And I shall swear it too,” said Alice.

  Captain Nasmith looked at them for a long moment, then he sighed and nodded.

  “I am disappointed in you both. I have seen what happens to traitors, and it is not pretty. I hope you are both sensible to the great mercy being shown towards you. You are being given a second chance. Such a chance is seldom given. Think on that. Now, here is the castle steward, Thomas McCrimmon. He will show you to your new chambers.”

  Nasmith stood aside to reveal a wizened dried-up, weather-beaten man, dressed in a tattered, dark uniform with a set of keys hanging from his belt. Nasmith took one last look at them, before shaking his head and striding away, leaving them in the care of McCrimmon, who leered at them through rheumy eyes.

  “Weel, weel, my lovely ladies! And ye hae been sore badly treated, so they tell me, and are tae be gied comfortable rooms up in the keep! Come wi’ me then, follow auld McCrimmon up the stairs and he shall show ye tae yer chambers!”

  The old fellow turned and, with a wave of his hand, gestured them to follow. With his hunched and twisted frame, he made a good pace, and Alice and Emily followed in silence, arm-in-arm.

  * * *

  The rooms were comfortable, not opulent but perfectly acceptable, and a significant improvement on what they had been expecting. It took them a little while to adjust to the sudden change in their circumstances. Both women had expected things to go from bad to worse, but now it seemed that they would be able to relax, at least for the present.

  The night was dark outside, and the wooden shutters were closed. A little fire burned on the hearth, and there were two low, clean beds and hot water and fresh clothing laid out by the fire for them. When McCrimmon asked if they would require anything else, Emily asked him for bandaging and salve, and he brought them without question. She had been put off at first by the little man’s leering stare and unpleasant appearance, but when she realised that the small room’s amenities were entirely his doing, and when he went quickly for the bandages, she found herself warming to him.

  “Yes, I saw tae it a’ mysel’, Mistress,” he said proudly when she expressed her pleasure at the cosily-prepared room. “’tis ower lang since we hae had a lady here at Fort William castle. Men – and military men especially – dinnae appreciate the wee touches o’ good housekeeping that a lady appreciates.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. McCrimmon. It is all lovely, and we certainly do appreciate your concern and labour.” She smiled at him, and he fairly glowed with pride at the compliment.

  “Weel, Mistress,” a conspiratorial glint came into his eye, “I hae been assigned tae look efter ye baith personally. Now I willnae lie,” and he lowered his voice glancing back into the empty corridor, “yon Major hae telt me tae keep a wee
eye on ye and tae tell him if I see anything... untoward. But, Mistress, I understand that ye were wi’ James MacPherson and his men at Inveraray some weeks back and that it was Major Clairmont whae sacked the town o’ Kinlochetrick. Weel, I hae cousins whae live at Kinlochetrick, an’ I’m no’ likely tae feel weel disposed toward a man whae pillaged the hame o’ my kin. Emily made to speak, but he continued. “Now dinnae mistake me!, I’m nae traitor, beggin’ yer pardon and I willnae be daeing anything tae compromise my position here at Fort William. I like my job as the steward here and I wouldnae hae it any other way. But I just wish ye tae ken that yon Major willnae learn anything frae me about yer movements or yer talk, and if ye require anything-anything at a’ – ye hae only tae ask, and I will see tae it wi’ naebody is any the wiser. Now, I hae said my piece and must be awa’. Good night tae ye baith.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and marched away down the corridor, singing hoarsely to himself as he went.

  “Well, what do you think of that?” Emily pondered as she closed the door behind him.

  “I think we should be wary tae trust him too far,” replied Alice, “and yet it’s weel kent that few o’ the smallfolk and serving people in the highland castles hae much sympathy wi’ the English garrisons. They may serve, and may no’ actually rebel, but maist o’ them are mair than likely tae turn a blind eye tae the actions o’ others mair active than themselves if they think there’s trouble for the English brewing. I believe him when he says about Kinlochetrick. These Highlanders dinnae lie.”

  The bandages and salve lay on the low table by the fire, next to the clothes and hot water. They took turns to wash properly and then dressed in the clean garments. Emily took the bandaging and cleaned, salved, and bandaged the wound on Alice’s leg that was looking decidedly better. There was a comb and brush there too, and together they worked the knots and bits of twig and moss out of each other’s hair. Alice’s straight, dark hair was easily enough worked, but Emily’s think red tresses had worked itself into a mass of tangles. When Alice had completed the ritual of carefully working through the knots, they both relaxed.

  They ate the food that had been laid out for them then sat in low chairs on either side of the fire, thinking silently for a while.

  “Weel,” said Alice eventually. “I dinnae ken about the future, nor whit will happen wi’ either o’ us, but just for now I dae feel better.”

  “Me too,” Emily agreed. “But I’m not easy in my mind. I may have promised my father to behave myself and not cause trouble, but tomorrow I will look around this castle, and if we see an opportunity to break free of it, I mean to take it. I will get back to my husband, Alice, no matter what happens.”

  “Aye,” Alice, nodded. “and I wi’ ye. I’ll no’ sit here like a prisoner, nae matter how weel we are looked efter. That Clairmont is a cruel and bitter man and I willnae see ye married tae him, not if I can help it.”

  “Then we’re agreed?” asked Emily.

  “Aye,” said Alice. “The first chance we get, we’ll escape.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Tae me!” Murdo roared, grabbing his sword and glancing around the great hall for his new wife. There she was, with Father Colum, James, Alice, and his step-mother, Eilidh. They would know what to do and get his wife to safety. He moved toward the door, Ewan at his side, and the MacPherson men, swords at the ready crowded behind him. On his order, they charged through the door.

  They were met by a hail of rifle fire, most of it pattering ineffectively off the wall behind them. Murdo did not stop, but charged up the little rise, meeting the raised bayonets of the red-coated soldiers like a wave breaking against a dam. His men surged up behind them, but the redcoats gave way before quickly fleeing back up the hill.

  “They must hae taken the bridge and the watchtower by stealth,” Ewan bemoaned beside him. “Oh, man, this will be the death o’ us. Why dae we always hae tae be at war? Sometimes I would gie nearly anything tae be free o’ this.”

  “Dinnae weaken on me now, man!” cried Murdo, as there came a thundering of hooves to their left. The MacPherson men formed up and charged bravely against the oncoming cavalry, but it was a hard thing. The English mounted soldiers attacked with the force of a hurricane, the Highlanders swept aside and forced back.

  “Where is my faither?” shouted Murdo.

  “Here, lad, here!” cried James and ran to Murdo, his sword running a deep red.

  “Look there!” James pointed over Murdo’s shoulder. Flames and smoke were leaping from the outbuildings to the side of the house.

  Murdo looked on in disbelief.

  “The grain store! We must save it!”

  “We havenae the men tae spare! Look, here come the English soldiers again!”

  The MacPherson men regrouped and charged again, this time they managed to hold their line against the wave of cavalry. The mounted soldiers crashed into them, but they did not have enough room to manoeuvre and quickly pulled back. James gave the order to counter-charge, and with a great roar, the Highlanders powered forward like a clap of thunder. The English infantry appeared again, firing a volley of bullets and charging full-tilt into the oncoming mass of Highlanders. The melee was joined, quickly becoming a messy and bloody affair.

  Amid the fighting, the sound of a horn blown three times rang out across the night, cutting through the clamour of arms, the din of shouting men and screaming horses. Again, the horn sounded three times, and the redcoat infantry formed up and began to withdraw. Murdo and his men charged after them with fury, but on James command, they returned.

  “The fire! We must put out the fire! Let the redcoats go, man!”

  He was right. The horns blew again, and the redcoats on foot broke into a run. Their horses were not far away, and they leapt into the saddle and thundered off back in the direction of the bridge. The MacPhersons did not give pursuit.

  It took a long time to put the fire out. James was wounded, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. Many of the MacPherson men were dead or wounded, and those who were not had to work hard and fast to douse the flames. Over an hour passed before the blaze became under control. Murdo had sent Ewan to go and find Emily and Alice. He appeared as pale as death and trembling.

  “Weel,” demanded Murdo, “speak out, man! Whit is it?”

  Before Ewan could speak, they were startled by a roar of fear and anger; like the sound of a trapped animal. They turned and ran toward the sound. In the courtyard between the main hall and the rest of the building, James knelt beside a huddled figure. A torch burned on the ground beside him, and in its flickering glow, they could see the fallen bodies in the gloom.

  “Whit’s a’ this?” cried Murdo in horror. “Faither, whae is yon?”

  “’tis yer step-mither!” wailed James, “’tis my wife, my Eilidh! She is deid!”

  Murdo tried to comfort his father whilst Ewan dropped to his knees beside the fallen body of Eilidh. He pushed her collar back and felt for a pulse at her neck.

  “She’s no’ died,” he said after a moment. “She no’ died James, there’s a pulse. We need tae get her intae the warm, an’ we need tae find out whit has happened here. Murdo, that’s whit I came tae tell ye. The lassies, Emily and Alice... I cannae find them anywhere. Naebody has seen them. I ran through the courtyard, and didnae see Mrs MacPherson here in the dark, but we’d better check these other bodies and try tae find out whit happened here.”

  James’ shout had brought more men running into the courtyard. Murdo set them to carry Eilidh MacPherson into the house and up the stairs. James went with them, and Murdo sent Ewan to oversee the firefighting. A cold terror mixed with a terrible anger took root in his chest and spread into his belly. It filled him as he took control of the situation, dispensing orders and picking up the torch from the ground. The sky had clouded over, and the torch was his only illumination. It threw fantastic, eerie shadows on the rough stone walls.

  Murdo checked the bodies one by one. There were three of them, all Engli
sh soldiers and dragoons by their uniforms. They had all died from stab wounds, and the last had a long dagger lying next to him. He picked it up and recognised it immediately as belonging to his step-mother. So, she had fought them and been knocked over the head for her trouble. They must have been waiting in the courtyard and ambushed Eilidh and her companions as they left the great hall for the relative safety of the main house. It must have happened quickly; otherwise there would have been a shout for help, or for one of the party to run for aid.

  Where is Faither Colum? He stood up, holding the torch high to cast its light into the corners of the courtyard. There was one more body in the courtyard.

  Father Colum was sprawled near the entrance to the courtyard, his body hidden by the shadow of the high stone gable of the house. He lay on his face, and as he brought the torch close to the ground, he could see the blood pooling on the ground around him. It looked black in the flickering yellow light of the flame.