by Alisa Adams
She turned back to Neely, who was staring at the ground. Her cheeks were bright pink.
Swan took a step towards her but Kaithria stopped her.
“Milady,” Kaithria said in a near whisper, “there is a very large...wolf...playing...with the children. I believe it is a wolf, and it does seem to only be playing with them.”
Swan sighed and looked over. The dog had indeed followed her and Peigi. The children were giggling at the dog’s antics. He was laying on his back, his paws in the air, offering his fuzzy belly. The children were petting and rubbing him, and the dog was squirming and wiggling with joy.
“Tis not a wolf, tis a wolfhound,” Beak spoke around his pipe that was still held securely in the corner of his lips as he studied the dog.
“What is the difference?” asked Neely as she kept sharp eyes on the wolfhound.
“He is not wild,” Swan said, crossing her arms across her chest as she watched the huge dog.
“He looks like the beast that came with the last soldiers, Lady—” Neely said but Swan cut her off.
“That animal lying there playing with the children does not look like a dog that would harm a child,” Swan said quickly.
“Perhaps only a man,” Kaithria said in her usual quiet, husky voice.
Swan looked at her. “Perhaps only a man that is attacking us,” she said succinctly with a sharp nod of her chin and a meaningful look at the two other women.
Neely gave Swan a challenging look. “Will the dog obey us, Lady Swan? Begging yer pardon milady, but will he obey ye?”
Swan looked over at Beak. He just shrugged his shoulders again and blew another smoke ring that billowed about his head.
Swan looked at the dog. She took a breath. “Here boy, come here!”
The dog instantly sat up and looked at her, its tail wagging happily. It took a hesitant step towards her.
“Come to me boy!” she said and patted her skirts.
The dog was at her side in an instant, staring up at her adoringly with his tongue lolling out of its mouth. Swan reached into her pocket. The bread was gone but there was a small bit of oat and bean cake. She reached out her hand with the small cake in it. The dog took it gently and politely, swallowing it in one bite. Then he burped quite loudly.
The children laughed in hysterics.
Swan stared at the dog with her mouth open.
Beak was cackling around his pipe. “What did ye give that hound Lady Swan?”
Swan looked up from the dog to Beak. “A bit of bean cake is all.”
“Beans!” Beak cackled.
The dog obliged them by burping again.
Beak cackled again uproariously. “Beans!” he cheered, pointing at the dog.
The children gathered around the dog, hugging and petting him and calling him Beans.
Swan sighed. For such a noble, huge, and intimidating animal to be named Beans did not seem fitting.
But Beans it was.
“We will leave in the morning,” Swan said to them. “Gather all the food ye have, and fill the waterskins with water. Bring yer blankets and anything else ye may need. Beak, see to the horses’ needs for the journey.”
“But where are we to go milady?” Neely demanded of Swan.
“We go to Fionnaghal Castle. The Ross sisters have taken in others that have been displaced due to the Clearances and they are aligned with the Black Watch Army.”
“The Ross sisters? More women trying to defend a castle,” Neely said with disgust. Her cheeks pinkened and she hastily added, “Begging your pardon, milady.”
Beak did a little dance as he let out an exuberant laugh. “To Fionnaghal we go!” he cheered. Then he looked down his sharp nose at Neely. “They are not just women defending a castle! Dinnae be disregarding a woman who can fight. Women fought in the vera old days, right beside their man, they did. Now these times demand it! Yer own Lady Swan fought for us all right here, ye just missed it, tucked away in yer cottage for the first of the attacks.” He heaved a sigh and smiled with excitement as he turned away from Neely. “Now these Ross sisters are fighters as well. They saved their castle and aided the King. They are the fiercest of warriors and wear the plaid of the Black Watch Army. They are vera powerful! I am surprised ye have not heard of them!” He was having trouble containing his excitement. “And, they breed the giant Clydesdale horses, and ride them into battle!” He started scurrying around, gathering things. “Off we go! I want to meet these Ross sisters. I have heard so much aboot their horses! Make haste! To Fionnaghal we go, we go!”
Swan breathed out a sigh. She hadn’t been brave at all. She had been terrified. She hadn’t fought, she had just stood on the castle’s walls with Brough warriors. Hiding her trembling fear. And directed men to their deaths it seemed. So many had died, and still, Brough was lost. Because of her.
At least Beak was on her side.
3
Wolf looked over at the rugged Highlander riding beside him. Keir Inan Gunn was his cousin and his best friend. Keir had decided he had nothing better to do than accompany his friend on this secret quest the King had sent him on. Wolf had told him very little. Only that they were looking for a child for the King. Keir had thought it was extremely amusing that the King would send his very best warrior on such an errand. And because of this, Wolf also knew his friend well enough to know that the only reason Keir was with him was that Keir knew there was something else going on that Wolf was not, or would not, tell him. Wolf was happy to have his company though. Keir always had his back, and there was no one better in a fight than Keir, for Wolf knew this was no easy errand the King had asked of him.
“Boy or girl?” Keir asked Wolf.
Wolf looked over at Keir with a white-toothed grin. His long brown hair blew over his shoulders, covering the pin that kept his black and navy tartan attached across his left shoulder. It had been a gift from the King long ago. The silver broach flashed in the sun now and then, as the lion and unicorn’s rampant jeweled eyes caught the sunlight. “Why so curious?” Wolf asked Keir.
“Come, you must at least tell me if we are looking for a boy or a girl?” Keir said with a laugh.
“And if I reveal the answer what next will you pester me for? The name, the age of the child?” Wolf said as he shook his head.
Keir threw back his head and laughed. His black hair blew out behind him. He sobered and turned serious, dark eyes to Wolf. “You know the secret is safe with me Wolf.”
“Aye, that I know. But in truth I dinnae know much and I dinnae want to get ye killed. Tis best the less ye know Keir.” Wolf stared straight ahead. His hands were easy on the reins as he sat on his big brute of a stallion. His stallion threw his head and skittered sideways at what Wolf knew not. He settled him with a soothing pat.
Keir studied him. “What are ye not telling me cousin? You and I have been through far worse than this, certainly? You fear my death over a child? You who have never lost a battle, you who sits on that big, ugly, mean, battle-scarred stallion of yours?” Keir laughed again, nodding towards Wolf’s stallion and its one eye that was horribly scarred. “Have ye ever seen me lose a fight? I have taken on twenty men and walked away with nary a scratch on my perfect and most handsome chin.”
Wolf glanced over at his cousin. He gave him a crooked smile as he shook his head. It was true, Keir was deadly in a fight. He was a terrifying warrior in battle, one that Wolf was always glad to have on his side. He was indeed a handsome man, with that curious cleft in his chin and a dimple that ladies seemed to go silly for. He also had ridiculously long black eyelashes for a man. Wolf shook his head again and smiled his wolfish smile, once again calming his ornery horse, who was throwing his head this way and that again.
“My stallion is ugly?” Wolf asked, looking pointedly at the horse Keir was riding. Keir’s stallion was missing half an ear and its body was crisscrossed with as many scars as Wolf’s brown stallion. The color of Keir’s horse was somewhere between muddy brown and grey. It was a mottle of colors and
scarred hide that no longer had any true resemblance to a specific color. “My stallion is brown, yours is...mud.”
Keir just laughed. “Are ye sworn to secrecy? Because ye are not answering me question,” Keir pressed him.
Wolf sighed. No, he was not sworn to secrecy with his cousin. “Tis a boy, though I do not know his age or his name.”
“Sards!” Keir exclaimed. “That could be any boy in the Highlands!”
“A young boy. In the northern Highlands, displaced. He and his nurse,” Wolf clarified.
“Oh, I see,” Keir said dramatically. “Weel now that helps. So we are looking for a young boy and an old woman. That should eliminate so vera many young boys, at least those without their mithers!”
Wolf ran a large, rugged, scarred hand through his hair. He growled softly. “He was sent to a priory and the priory was cleared out. It sat on good grazing land. How many priories are there in the North?”
Keir’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his cousin. “They cleared a priory?” he said in disapproval.
Wolf’s jaw tightened. “Aye, they cleared a priory that held orphan children, and not for Jacobite reasons, but for the land I am sure,” Wolf said in an angry growl. Then he added, “Word is that he may be traveling with a nun, or his nurse, or his nanny.”
Keir went silent. “They could be anywhere, my friend.”
“Aye,” Wolf said, “and all this for a child, as well as to protect the feelings of a woman. Sards,” he growled in disgust.
“Interesting. That is a bit more information. I gather that this boy is an indiscretion that must stay covered up to protect the feelings—as ye say—of someone’s wife from finding out? The King?” He waited but got nothing from Wolf. He tried again. “You cannae tell me if it’s the King's own son? He asked ye not to tell that part, didnae he?” Keir stared intently at Wolf but got no response from his stubborn, stoic warrior friend.
“My word is truth,” answered Wolf.
Keir grunted in frustration. “Tis normal to want to help a child and to preserve the soft feelings of a woman, particularly one you love, Wolf,” Keir said in a droll voice. “Ye have been a warrior far too long. Have ye no heart left Wolf? Or was your heart left on the battlefields long ago?”
Wolf stared straight ahead. “Aye.”
They rode for several days through the northern mountainous region of the Highlands. As they descended down from the mountain fog and mists the land became flatter.
“Mind yer horse. Do not wander off the track. The bogs here are treacherous,” Wolf said firmly. His harsh face was watchful and intent.
Keir stayed close behind him, making sure his horse matched the steps of Wolf’s stallion.
“We’ll be heading through Strath Na Vern with the Sutherland Lands to our south,” Wolf explained. “We ride to Loch Naver and the River of Bagistry. We’ll be passing through the parishes of Farr, Toungue, Durness, Ederachillis, and part of Reay. Be aware that the roads will get vera troublesome. We’ll be obliged to cross many a time in just a few miles due to the adjacent boggy grounds at this time of year. We can ask in the parishes about any priories that have been recently cleared out.”
Keir studied the stern visage of his friend. “How do you know all this? Ye seem vera familiar with herabouts.”
Wolf rode on without answering. Finally, he answered tersely, “I was raised here. North of us is McKay land.”
Keir went silent. I should have known, he thought as he looked around.
Though the King had the Black Watch Army to manage the Highlands, he had let the McKays form their own regiment as they had been so invaluable to him. They were the most powerful warriors of any of the clans and so large they had enough warriors to fill out their own regiment. Wolf had left his clan’s lands when he was a very young man, as had Keir. Neither had been back in many years.
Keir realized where they were. “Home.”
Wolf grunted.
Keir looked around, wide-eyed, taking in the flat land, the many changes. “Tis strange and yet good to be home, if I can still call it that. What of you Wolf? Any interest in settling back down here, no more war, only a wife and your own little ones?”
Wolf did not even glance at him, he just let out a short, hoarse laugh. “That life is not for me, never that. War and fighting where my King bids me is my life.” He nodded his chin once as Keir started to ask something else. “My word is truth,” he grunted, letting Keir know that he would no longer speak on that topic. “We will pass the McKay lands and continue north.”
“Are we going all the way beyond the Highlands up into Caithness then?” Keir asked. “The Clearances have been devastating to the Highlands. Tis dangerous. We are only two.”
“Aye. I told you. We go north.” Wolf frowned at his friend.
“You didnae say to the vera most northerly place we could ever go, so far north that tis inhospitable and dangerous,” Keir said with a grumble.
Wolf looked over at Keir with a slight tipping up of his lips. “Ye sound like a woman complaining.”
“I thought we were going home,” Keir said. His voice held just the wistful hint of disappointment.
“Aye, past home and north,” Wolf said sternly. “Depending on how far north this boy has been taken.” He turned narrowed eyes on Keir. “But twould be where I would go if I was trying to hide someone. To the far north of Caithness. Where no one wants to go, as ye said yourself. I am not afraid, as you sound like ye are. No matter the danger, or that we are only two. Tis just to retrieve a boy, and this I will do as my King has bid me.” He grinned as Keir started to say something else. “My word is truth.”
Keir only grunted in response, knowing Wolf was done talking. “How hard could it be to retrieve one small boy?” he mumbled to himself. He heard Wolf’s hoarse laugh in response.
They reached the flatter lands of the Caithness shire after exhaustedly traversing the bogs of Strath Na Vern. Some of the bogs had a rudimentary bridge of some logs and peat and stone as a pathway across the worst of the bogs. Wolf knew these too would eventually sink in the rainy season. The land was crisscrossed with these makeshift bridges over the land and made the going slow and dangerous for the horses.
Many days later, they finally came upon a village church and had to ask only a few questions about priories, orphans, and Clearances before they got their answer.
They had an idea where to look now.
It had been easy.
Much too easy, thought Wolf.
Who else had found the same information as they had on the boy?
They rode north for days that became a fortnight, and then another and another. They passed more and more villages that had seen the evil of the Clearances; empty of life, ransacked and burnt to the ground, the dead buried where they fell.
They followed the western coastline along some coach roads which became rough dirt tracks that traversed back and forth along more of the treacherous peat bog bridges.
They were heading to the most northern part of Caithness, where no one else would want to go.
4
Swan sat upon Peigi, her lips stiff and immobile as she listened to the complaining of the others riding behind her. She held the reins firmly as Peigi, even after days of riding, was still not tired. She was as difficult as the first day, but then she was young. Very young and very big. Swan was asking so much of the mare. She had needed the wise, old, black war horses to carry Beak, Kaithria, Neely, and the children—leaving Peigi for herself to deal with. In his day dear Beak was the best horse trainer in Caithness, but now he was far too old and brittle to ride the tempestuous and exuberant large, young mare.
“But I dinnae want to be on a horse named Dummy! I want to ride the one named Teeth!” whined the little boy named Bhric for the tenth time.
Swan could hear Kaithria say something softly to the three little boys, and not for the first time. They were full of complaints and all kinds of comments and observations as they rode along the road.
&nb
sp; Kaithria was riding with the three little boys—Albie, who was on her lap and the youngest, with Bhric and Charlie behind her. They were on the big, old, black war horse named Dummernech. They had giggled hilariously when Beak said the horse’s name was Dummy.
“I dinnae want to be on Dummy!” Bhric whined again. The other two boys instantly joined in as Kaithria tried to hush them.
“Now then young men!” said Beak in what was almost a shout. “Dummernech was one of Castle Brough’s most famous and brave war horses. He stood by his fallen rider in the midst of battle, cannons going off around him, being struck by arrows and burning embers from the fires, never leaving his side until another warrior pulled and pulled and finally was able to lead him away.” Beak glared at the little boys as they became silent, listening to the tale of the old war horse they rode.
“We want to ride Dummy!” complained the eldest of the girls. Grissal was ten years old and was given the responsibility of holding the reins of the aging war horse the three girls rode. Grissy frowned at the boys. “We will trade our horse for your Dummy,” she said loudly.
The three girls—Effi, Fiona, and Grissal—were on Inchturfin. The ancient horse’s face was full of grey hairs. His once proud neck and high stepping trot was no longer. His ears bounced in time with his walk as if they were loose and ready to fall off, or he was just that relaxed now in his old age with three little girls on him.
Beak sighed loudly and dramatically. “Your horse is Inchturfin. Old Inch has been through as many battles as old Dummy. He is just as brave and was just as devoted as any war horse can be. Behave yourselves and later I will tell you the stories of the horses you have the honor of riding.”
The girls all went quiet. Grissy petted Inch’s neck. “He’s a war horse too,” she whispered reverently back to Effi and Fiona. “We must take good care of him,” Grissy told them.
“Aye, I shall braid some lovely flowers into his mane next we stop,” said little Fiona.
