“Nairne,” her mother hissed, but Murdoch had already turned upon her.
“The rightful Laird? I am the rightful Laird, and I assure ye, lassie, that there will be no question as tae who is tae be victorious in this battle. The Mackintosh’s have always defeated the Cameron’s in war and today will see an end tae them and tae their cause. Dinnae ever speak in that way again, ye hear me? I am Laird, and if ye dinnae think I should be, then ye are worse than a traitor.” Catching his daughter by the neck, he pulled her up close. “No treachery,” he whispered, and letting her go, she fell back into her mother’s arms, gasping for breath, as Murdoch called his men to arms.
“Listen now, men, we ride out tae war, show no mercy and offer no charity, today we defeat the Cameron’s, come what may,” and with a cheer, the men issued forth from the Great Hall and out into the courtyard, the banner of the Mackintosh’s raised high above them.
Chapter Thirty-One
‘An Anxious Wait’
The Cameron’s marched throughout the day towards the castle. They feared no one, and instead of moving stealthily through the trees, made their way along the wide paths of the forest which led down through the glen. It was this route the Mackintosh’s had taken during their raid of the crofts, and the Cameron’s were determined that they too would show such boldness in their attack.
Andrew walked at their head, the banners fluttering behind him and to his left and right his uncle and stepfather marched with him, reassuring him as they went that a great victory would soon be theirs.
“We surely outnumber the Mackintosh’s by a great number and see how the forest folk are joining us as we come through the woods,” Duncan said, pointing through the trees to where several men had just emerged, welcomed by the army which now marched to war.
“Murdoch will not expect us tae have such numbers. He has always thought his position is safe, that the castle is impregnable, and we must hope that he dinnae even know we are coming, though it hardly matters now. We shall have him surrounded in the castle, and there will be no hope for him in calling for reinforcements. He will find himself trapped there and the villagers will not seek tae come tae his aid, they despise him as much as we do,” Stewart added.
“And would ye see yer own brother killed this day?” Andrew turned to his stepfather.
He had never addressed him in such terms before, but neither had he commanded the respect of the clansmen before. His coming of age had brought a new sense of authority, and Andrew knew that, despite his lack of confidence, others saw in him a leader, one that could command respect. Stewart paused for a moment and looked at Andrew.
“After all these years, ye should know the answer tae that question, laddie. I have no brother, I lost him many years ago. Murdoch was once a man with a decent enough heart, but the love of power corrupted him, and he became greedy. I ceased tae call him my brother when he subjected yer dear mother tae such wicked plans, and I will have no sorrow in seeing him cut down upon the field of battle if that is tae be his destiny.” They walked on in silence, others joining them as they went, until the men of Andrew’s army seemed a vast host behind him. Marching along the tracks towards the castle, a castle they knew to be rightfully theirs, the banners fluttering in the breeze.
* * *
“Andrew will be killed, mother, I know he will,” Nairne cried, as she and Una watched from her mother’s chamber as Murdoch rallied his men below.
Murdoch had ordered them upstairs and away from the preparations, repeating his instructions that they would be kept inside the castle and leaving the guards to act as their protector. But it was not to protect them that Murdoch had so readily left his men to guard his wife and daughter, the men were there as jailers, and both Una and Nairne knew that they were prisoners inside the castle, for as long as Murdoch wished.
“He may still prevail, look at yer father’s men, they are nothing but thugs and mercenaries. There are few a who are true Mackintosh’s. Over the years, yer father has seen to it that those once loyal have found themselves on the receiving end of his anger and abandoned their loyalty in favor of others. Andrew may not have the experience of a warrior if what ye say about him is true, but I am sure he has the courage of a man who has no wish to see himself defeated. Have faith, Nairne, we must bide our time.”
Nairne did not share her mother’s confidence, and she watched as her father paced up and down amongst his men, calling out orders and issuing instructions. The sun was at its midpoint when he cried out to them to depart for the battlefield. They would face the Cameron’s outside the village, where the paths from the forest emerged, and a place which Murdoch hoped would catch the young pretender off guard.
Nairne and Una watched, as Murdoch called forth his men, riding upon a black horse, his sword already drawn as though his foes awaited him through the gates. She wondered just what would become of them all on that fateful day. Would Andrew be killed? Would she ever see him again? Or would her father face the punishment which was rightfully his and find himself on the end of a Cameron sword. Despite their blood ties, she could only hope that it was Andrew who was victorious and that this day would see the defeat of the clan it had been her misfortune to be born into.
“I cannae bear not tae know what is happening, mother.” Nairne watched as the last of Murdoch’s men disappeared through the gatehouse, and the castle gates were shut tight.
“Put it out of yer mind, Nairne, we shall know soon enough,” and seating herself before the fire, Una began to spin.
Nairne was silent for a moment and crossing to the door she paused, turning to her mother who had started to work the wheel, the thread passing through her fingers as she hummed a little to herself.
“Mother, I am going tae walk in the gardens, I will not be long.”
Una looked up and fixed her daughter with a questioning look.
“If ye think ye will be able tae escape from the north door yer father has had it covered with boulders tae prevent any unexpected visitors, but go and walk if ye wish to.”
“I am not planning tae escape mother. I am planning tae see this tae its end,” and with Nairne left the room, hurrying downstairs and out into the courtyard below.
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘The Road to War’
“Steady now men, we are close,” Stewart called back, as the party approached the edge of the forest, “we shall take a rest here for a moment, break out some food and supplies, see tae it that every man has his fair share now.”
Andrew looked around nervously. He recognised this as the spot where he and Nairne had emerged after being captured by Murdoch’s men. He had been terrified that day, but his fear then was as nothing to facing Murdoch’s army. In a short while they would be in the heat of battle and as he took some bread and cheese his stomach felt sick to its core, his palms sweating and his mind confused and unsure of itself.
“Ye will be alright laddie,” his uncle smiled encouragingly as though reading Andrew’s thoughts, “ye have the blood of Iain Cameron in ye and ye are not alone. Yer stepfather and I have been hard upon ye these past years, but only because we believe in ye and that ye be the rightful Laird of this clan. It is ye, not Murdoch Mackintosh who is Laird of this glen and today we shall see tae it that yer destiny is fulfilled. Or die trying.”
Andrew nodded and was about to reply when a runner came hurtling through the trees, breathless and staggering as he stopped in front of Andrew and the others.
“What is it, laddie?” Stewart caught hold of the runner who could not have been much more than twelve years old, a slight wee boy chosen for his speed to scout out ahead of them.
“Our plan is known, the Mackintosh’s are gathered on the fields outside the forest, they are not in the castle as we thought they would be,” he glanced nervously at Andrew.
“Then someone has told him of our plans,” Duncan looked around in anger, as though the culprit were one of them.
“It matters not where the enemy is, what matters is that
we face him bravely,” Stewart added, “well-done laddie, ye have done well,” and he patted the young lad on his shoulder.
“So, we face him on the battlefield, so be it,” Duncan turned to Andrew, “are ye ready, laddie? Ready tae do yer duty to this clan and lead us intae battle.”
“I … I am,” Andrew instinctively placed his hand upon his sword hilt as if to steady himself for what was to come.”
“Well done, we shall be at yer side, dinnae worry,” Duncan replied, and turning back he cried out to the men behind, “Cameron men, let us follow our Laird now and win the crown of victory.”
“Aye,” came the reply, as with one voice the Cameron’s shouted in support of Andrew and his cause.
Now the clan made its way once again through the forest, its banners going ahead, pipers playing their tune, an army marching to war.
* * *
“Have the men set up their positions,” Murdoch pointed across the battlefield, “we shall rout the enemy as he emerges from the forest and rain down such force that they will be scattered intae the trees. They shall be easy targets to pick off one by one. Have the archers assemble behind us and let fly a volley of arrows as soon as they emerge. Show no mercy.”
“Aye Laird, the soldier barked orders to the men now assembling across the field.
The castle was behind them and the village down to their left, the wide-open field-leading on towards the forest beyond. Clouds were rolling in across the sky, and there was a little rain in the air, as Murdoch took up his position some distance away from the field itself. He would advance only when Andrew Cameron appeared. It was he that Murdoch Mackintosh wished to kill, him and him alone.
He had wondered long and hard what it would be like to face his brother once again. Those fleeting moments in earlier skirmishes were nothing to this. Finally, after all these years, he would come face to face with the brother who had betrayed him. If he could kill them both then so much, the better. Murdoch had long harbored the desire for revenge. Gradually it had consumed him, made him bitter and twisted, but today his heart felt lighter than it had done for many years. Today would see an end to the Cameron threat once and for all. There would be no more hiding in the forests or on the mountainside. No more tit for tat battles or fragile peace. Today, Murdoch Mackintosh would be victorious, and, in that victory, he would finally be master of this glen, the rightful claimant to both Mackintosh and Cameron. A man with power who would command respect.
“The Cameron Laird is mine,” he said, as the soldier returned from issuing his master’s orders, “see tae it that no harm comes tae him, he is mine tae kill, ye hear me?”
“Aye, Laird, the men are talking amongst themselves. They say that the forest folk have joined the Cameron cause and that we shall be outnumbered.”
“Are these men cowards?” Murdoch replied quietly.
“No, sir but …” the soldier stammered.
“Are ye a coward?”
“No, sir, but I …”
“Then dinnae act as one, what possible threat could a few lowly forest dwellers be against a well-armed and trained force such as this, ye are pathetic tae even mention such a thing, away with ye,” Murdoch pushed the soldier away and stared grimly towards the forest, “ye are no match for us, Andrew Cameron, no match at all.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘A Soldier?’
Nairne had not thought through her plan, in fact, it had only just occurred to her, but there are times, particularly in the heat of battle, when spontaneity, rather than a rational mind, can win the day and Nairne hoped that today would be such a day.
Despite her father’s promises, there were few men stationed around the castle. The gates were barred shut, and she found her mother’s words about the north garden door to be correct. Murdoch had secured the castle, and those soldiers left had been ordered to guard the gate, as much for those wishing to leave as those wishing to enter.
Cautiously, she made her way from the gardens across the courtyard and stole into the armory. It was a scene of chaos, where her father’s men had hurriedly made themselves ready. Armor and helmets were strewn across the floor, and any number of weapons lay discarded around the place, a sign that Murdoch’s men had left in haste, ill-prepared, whatever the Laird might say, for the coming battle.
Nairne bolted the door behind her, but all seemed quiet and taking off her tunic, began to search through the detritus. Much of the armor would not fit, designed for rough and ready clansmen whose physique hardly matched her own. But she managed to gather together enough to make a plausible outfit, pulling on pieces of armor and a coat of chain mail.
The armor was uncomfortable, though she reminded herself that it was not designed with a woman in mind, and placing a helmet on her head and a cloak around herself she imagined to look like one of her father’s soldiers. Though shorter in stature and without the appearance of one who had spent their life engaged in the work of a soldier. Still, she hoped it would be enough to convince the guards that she was a straggler, rushing to join the others on the battlefield.
She drew the sword she had selected from its hilt, it was a short sword, designed for close combat and whirled it around several times, lunging and ducking, wondering whether she would be forced to use it. Nairne had not thought of such a thing when the plan had first occurred to her, and the sudden realization that she would be a target on the battlefield caused a chill to run through her.
But Nairne was braver than that, and she was doing this for Andrew. She so desperately wanted to see him and if she had to step between her father and him then so be it. She would.
The courtyard was quiet as she emerged from the armory, and glancing up towards her mother’s window, she made her way quickly across to the gatehouse. If her mother saw her, even in disguise, she would recognise her and Nairne did her best to draw herself up and walk with the swagger of a soldier.
As she reached the gatehouse, one of the soldiers stepped forward, looking her up and down with suspicion.
“What is this? Were ye left behind, laddie?” he fixed her with a puzzled expression.
“Aye …” Nairne said, in as deep a voice as she could manage, “Aye, I … I had my sword tae sharpen, but I must get tae the battlefield.”
The man looked her up and down again, and Nairne prayed that he would not ask her to lift up the visor on her helmet. But he simply nodded and signaled to another of the men to open the gate. Nairne made no further reply and walked quickly through the gates, where the sound of her father’s army could be heard from the battlefield beyond.
* * *
Nairne had never seen battle before, despite the presence of Murdoch, the castle had always been a peaceful place, and she had grown up in the relative safety of her father’s protection. At times he had ridden out to war, supporting his fellow clansmen in this or that conflict but the battle had never come to the gates of the castle before, and she was taken aback by the sight.
Laid out before her was Murdoch’s army, divided into two parts, as though he intended to come upon the enemy from two sides and rout them in the middle. But his forces were not significant, no more than a hundred men, divided into two and, like her, they were dressed in an assortment of armor and equipped with all manner of weaponry.
Murdoch and his closest men sat on horseback upon a slight ridge above, and she watched as her father surveyed the scene around him. He was watching the path leading into the forest and had drawn his sword as though ready to strike as soon as the first of the Cameron’s emerged from the forest.
Nairne was fascinated by the sight, but it seemed that her father’s bravado over his forces would come to nothing. This was not the army she had imagined her father to have rallied and if the Cameron’s were as strong as Andrew claimed them to be, then surely victory was assured?
“Ye, soldier, where have ye been?” came a shout from across the field and Nairne turned to find one of her father’s men advancing towards her, “well, what have ye tae say f
or yerself, a coward are ye?”
“No … No,” she replied, her voice sounding deep, “I … I was late.”
“Late soldiers are worth nothing, go and join the others over there and mind ye pull yer weight, there is a battle tae be fought, and the likes of idle men like ye will not win it,” the man shook his head as he returned toward her father’s position.
Nairne wished to draw no further attention to herself, and she hurried across to where a detachment of soldiers stood, waiting for the enemy. Positioning herself towards the back, the men around her shifted uneasily, all eyes upon the forest.
“They will outnumber us,” a soldier to her right cried, “the Laird said he had mustered a great force but look at what is here, boys and old men, ye cannae be anything but a wee laddie underneath that armor.”
Highlander's Rightful Claim (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 21