by Deb Kemper
He turned the hilt of his sghian dubh towards her. “Take it and turn back around slowly.”
She complied. He reversed a short distance and watched the area.
A tall man, in Innes breacan walked to Mallow. She glanced up and coughed. He saw she was still there and looked around. “Where’s the guard?”
“Willie went to the wood.” She gestured to her left with a tilt of her head.
He nodded and grumbled, turning back to the hotter fire.
She felt Collin’s hand on her shoulder. “Come now.”
She spun and slipped off the rock she’d sat on for more than four hours. She crouched, as Collin pointed her in the direction of a thicket.
He pulled a dead man to Mallow’s rock and laid him near it, covering him with a blanket. Then he followed Mallow.
Once they were opposite the camp, Collin led the way, back to the edge of the glen. He lifted her to the saddle and mounted behind.
Coot snorted and backed a few steps. Collin drew his dirk. A man stepped out of the brush.
“Who the hell’re ye?”
Collin flung the dirk, at the man and hit him in the chest. He yelled as he fell. Alarm struck the camp. Men scrambled for horses.
“Damn!” Collin turned Coot toward the glen, slapping his flank with his hand. “I aimed fer his throat. Now we’ll have to outrun ’em or stand and fight.”
“There’s a cairn just over that rise.” Mallow pointed down the path ahead with Collin’s sghian dubh. “My fingers are broken. I won’t be much help.”
“As long as ye’re not much trouble, I can handle ’em.” Collin guided Coot toward the cairn.
Coot put distance behind them, to make the cairn in good time. Collin reined him in. “Hoh, there’s a good lad.” He inspected the cairn from all sides. “I don’t believe Coot’ll fit in there, with us. I’ll hold MacGregor’s men here. Ye ride ahead as fast as he’ll carry ye.”
“Nay, I’ll no’ leave ye here, Collin. If ye don’t make it out, how could I ever explain my desertion to Ceidra?”
“I give the instructions, lass. I’ll hold them here and ye get home. Ye can send me help. Will that do?” He lowered her to the ground and slid down behind her. “Now, le’s get ye back in the saddle and on yer way.”
She crossed her arms, holding her left hand away from her body. “Nay, I’ll stay and help ye.”
“Right now ye’re a hindrance, no’ a help. Get on the horse, li’l lass and go home.”
Mallow turned bright red. “How dare ye to talk to me so, Jeremy Collin! Ye should shew me respect.”
Her frown made Collin smile.
“I’m about to shew ye my belt on yer behind, lass. Get on the horse and go. It’s yer last warnin’.” He untied his rifle and checked the sight down the long barrel. Afar off he could barely make out riders, headed their way. “I thought ye said there were but three.”
Mallow sat down on a nearby rock and mumbled. “No’ leavin’. Three was all I spied.”
“There’s at least six headed fer us. We’re about to have company and they ain’t comin’ fer tea.” Collin reached for Mallow to hoist her to Coot’s back.
She brushed his hands away. “I said I’m no’ going.”
“Fine, I’ll go and ye can stay here.”
“Leave me the rifle, then.”
“Oh, ye’re a dandy shot are ye?”
“Well, I don’t ken.” Mallow admitted.
Collin slapped Coot’s flank with the palm of his hand. “Go, fetch help, Coot.”
The stallion leapt into action and reached the tree line in moments. Collin turned to Mallow. “Get inside the cairn, yer majesty, before the brigands arrive. If they overwhelm me ye’ll have a hell of a time explainin’ why ye didn’t leave, to yer father.”
Mallow searched out the entrance, ducked her head, and entered the low rock structure. “It’s eerie in here.”
“Ye’re the one who chose it.”
“Aye, but I didn’t ken how dirty it’d be.”
“Too late now.” Collin arranged his weapons. “If ye can manage to reload fer me, I may not tan yer rebellious hide, when we get outta here.” He laid his pouch of balls beside the powder horns.
The moon was about to set. Sunrise was only an hour away.
****
The MacGregor’s crew stopped at the cairn and circled it twice.
“We can’t see where they went, now can we? We need light to track the horse. Come, Hamish, let’s go back to camp and try again after light.” A thin man with white hair complained to a younger man who appeared to be the leader.
“Aye, but this is as good a place as any to camp.”
“There’s no wood fer a fire, lad. I’m going back. It’s a short enough ride in an hour or so.”
“I’ll stay, take shelter in that cairn. Ye go on back to camp.”
Collin waited by the entrance to the rock hut, dirk in hand.
The others rode away.
****
“Hamish!” The older man called out. He and four companions rode up on the cairn. He dismounted his horse and headed toward the entrance to the cairn. “Daft bugger, ye prob’ly sleepin’ off yer drunk.” He ducked his head and entered the low portal.
Collin clapped a hand over the intruder’s mouth and slit his throat, lowering his body to the ground. Mallow looked away and covered her own mouth, with her hand to keep from vomiting. She glanced back at the bodies of two men. Only four more to kill and they could leave this wretched place.
“Innes?” Another rider left his horse and crept toward the cairn.
Collin laid his finger to his lips and glanced at Mallow.
“Innes?” The man ducked into the portal.
Collin clapped a hand to the man’s mouth, but not before he squawked. Collin made quick work of killing him and placed his body on top of the other two.
“Hamish? Innes?” The remaining riders circled the cairn, calling out the names of the fallen, for several minutes, before backing away to reconnoiter. Their horses smelt the blood of their comrades. They whinnied and pranced, hooves digging at the ground.
Collin turned to Mallow. “Here’s where it gets interestin’. Are ye well, lass?”
She gulped and glanced at the bodies stacked like firewood. “Aye, sir.”
Collin turned back to the entrance and prepared to defend their position. “Ye need to lay flat on the ground. Less chance of a stray ball hittin’ ye.”
Mallow obeyed, making herself as small as possible, as far away from the bloody bodies as she could manage. Blood seeped onto the ground, from the stack of corpses.
Chapter 47
Garth mounted Coot and tied Jack’s reins to the saddle. “Le’s go, horse.” He slapped the black stallion’s flank and they shot out of the barmekin and through the gate, with ten men in their wake. Garth heard Grayson’s call to raise the bridge and secure the premises. Villagers interred behind the walls would wait until the laird’s return, to go home.
Gordon, Perry, and eight more fighting men followed to rescue Collin and Mallow from uncertainty.
An hour into the ride Coot turned off the main road. Garth let him have his head. They tore through brush and wound through the forest. After a bit they approached the glen. Coot stopped at the edge of the flat green and gazed off toward the hills.
Garth spotted four men hiding behind a crop of rock in the near distance through his spyglass. Their horses were loose, grazing nearby. Garth motioned for his men to move forward.
Gordon was first by his side. He kept his voice low. “Aye, sire?”
“Gordon, return to the forest and move a half mile further east, along the glen. Take Perry wi’ ye.” He turned in the saddle to motion more men forward. “Walker, Phineas, ye canter off to the west, about a quarter mile. When ye’re in position, we’ll move in on ’em. They’re dead ahead a half mile. If they see ye we’ll be in fer a fight. Employ stealth, lads.” He glanced at the remaining warriors. “Stay close. We’ll ride whe
n ye’re all situated.” Coot backed into heavier cover. They waited.
Movement near the rocks, brought Garth around. He lifted his spyglass and spotted three more riders approaching the hide. The MacGregor was among the newcomers. Garth smiled. Thank ye, God, ye brought my enemy to face me. Give me a steady hand; make me swift, sure, and bold.
He saw his men moving into position. He led the charge, fast and low to the ground, Coot flew toward his master.
****
Mallow listened intently for any sound coming from outside. She whispered, “Collin, do ye hear anyone?”
“Aye, the men from the camp are no longer alone. Three riders just joined ’em, movin’ in from the west, more of MacGregor’s men. Though, if me ears don’t deceive me, The MacGregor himself is amongst them.”
She nodded and laid her head back on the moist ground. How she longed for a bath and a good book.
****
Garth drew a loaded pistol from his belt with his right hand and reached for his claymore, with his left, his thighs snuggly gripping Coot’s heaving sides. He drew a bead on a horseman, as he approached the group.
Startled, the fresh group of men dismounted and slapped their horses’ flanks, scurrying round the rocky outcrop, for protection. They spotted Garth’s frontal assault.
Gordon and Perry moved in from the east, pinning them in, from that direction. Walker and Phineas progressed from the west.
MacGregor’s crew realized their error in judgment when gunfire erupted from all sides. Collin fired from the cairn, The Mackintosh men, from every side. The MacGregor, realizing he was ensnared, stood and threw his hands over his head, in surrender.
“What’re ye doin’?” His champion jerked his arm down and pulled MacGregor to the ground. “We ain’t bloody giving up. We ain’t fought yet.”
“I’ll not be slaughtered, man! I have a kingdom to run. We live to fight another day.” MacGregor snatched his white kertch, from his pocket and tied it to the end of his rifle. He waved the kertch in the air, above him.
Collin took aim on the flag of surrender and pulled the trigger. The kertch drifted on a breeze, when it separated from the rifle.
Garth pulled Coot up short and yelled, “MacGregor?”
“Aye, Mackintosh?” MacGregor sought to stand, but his champion pulled him back to the ground.
“Come out now and face yer doom, ye coward, and we’ll let yer men pass.” Garth scanned the rock wall. Coot pranced, shaking his great black head.
“I surrender, Mackintosh. Ye shan’t kill me. I beg yer mercy, laird. I come out, with no weapons.” MacGregor finally made his feet and stood. Both arms shot up into the air.
“I prefer ye be armed. It’ll make me feel justified fer killin’ ye, as though I needed a reason.” Garth watched the man he battled, for months, begin to walk from behind the crop of rocks. “There was a time, no’ long ago when we settled our differences over a tankard of mead and parted friends, but those days are past us, John.”
A shot split the air and MacGregor crumpled to the ground. Garth glanced round at his men and saw not one had fired. He dismounted and strode toward his adversary. In the small of MacGregor’s back, a pistol protruded, along with his dirk.
MacGregor’s men, realizing the game was up, stood with their hands in the air.
“We surrender!” MacGregor’s champion shouted.
“I reckon I can accept that. All of ye get out here, leave yer weapons behind.” Garth let Coot’s reins trail and stood with his weapons at the ready. He met the champion’s eyes. “Was it ye pulled the trigger on yer master?”
“Nay.” The man shook his head. “Shot came from the cairn.” He tilted his head toward the rock hut.
Garth grinned and shouted. “Collin?”
Collin shouted back. “Aye, laird?”
“Le’s go home, man. I’m tired of chasin’ ye all nigh’.”
“Ye may have to carry yer daughter. Her highness fainted.” Collin ducked through the portal dragging Mallow behind, her head resting on his back.
Garth rushed to take the burden from his champion.
Gordon guarded MacGregor’s men, while they relinquished their weapons.
“Wha’ took ye so long?” Collin gladly unloaded Mallow into her father’s arms.
“We came as soon as we could put a posse together. I figgered ye coul’ hold ’em ’til help arrived, since ye travel wi’ a bloody arsenal.” Garth lowered his daughter to a rock, as she began to show signs of coming around.
“I admit I’m glad to see ya. I’d of fought ’em to the death, but damned if that lass didn’t make me wanna join ’em.” He scratched his scruffy face and gathered his weapons. He tied his rifle onto Coot’s saddle. “God, save me from daughters. Come on, Coot, le’s hie to the bothy.” He threw up his hand, waving. “We’ll see ye then.” He tapped Coot’s flank and left a trail of kicked turf in his path.
Mallow looked up, into her da’s face and cried. “Oh, Da, it was so awful. Collin made me lie down, on the ground in there, with dead bodies. There was blood running right fer my face when he said I couldn’t move.” She wept in his arms.
He smiled, patting her back. “’Tis fine now, lass. We’re going home.”
Garth looked around at Gordon, his weapon covering MacGregor’s men. “Gordon, let ’em take their laird’s body with ’em. There’s been enough killin’ today.”
“Aye, sire.” To the champion, Gordon tilted his head in MacGregor’s direction. “Ye heard the laird, get yer man and go.”
Garth led Mallow to Jack and helped her mount. “Now, le’ me finish this and we’ll head home.”
He turned back to watch MacGregor’s men load the laird, on the back of his horse. His head hung at an odd slant, his neck broken, by the shot Collin placed at the base of his skull. Garth shuttered.
Chapter 48
A month after Mallow’s rescue, Garth stood on the dock, in Inverness, watching his daughter board with Collin, Ceidra, and their sons. Mallow turned to wave, grinning. Millie waved demurely, from the deck, with a smile. Once aboard, Collin threw him a salute. He laughed and glanced down at Amalie, a wistful expression on her face.
“Ye want to go, as well?”
“Millie will enjoy her sister. They’ve not seen each other for ten years.” She glanced up at the laird. “It’d be grand to go to Ireland, for a visit, sir.” She smiled sedately.
“We have to make the trip to the Livesey’s, upon Mallow’s return.”
“I know, but mayhap someday.”
“My love, we will go. Do ye realize we’ve not had a journey, from home, in almost two years? What say ye to deliverin’ the children to yer parent’s care, as soon as the twins wean? We’ll sail to Ireland and tour the country, come home through the Hebrides.” He lowered his face to hers, for a kiss. “Mmm, it’s good to have ye to myself fer the day.” They set out for the coach.
Amalie hesitated. “I enjoy your company, husband.” She grasped her bonnet, as a gust of wind swept through the quay. She hesitated, glancing round the dock once more, recalling the day she arrived, as a slave—a bright sunny day, much like this one. She sighed.
Garth glanced down. “What, darlin’?”
She shook her head. “Just rememberin’ the first site I had of this harbor. From the deck of the merchantman, my hands tied, feet chained—dirty, hungry, and scared.”
The laird studied his lady for a long moment then turned her into his arms. “Never again, my heart.”
He stepped away from her and bowed low. On standing, he addressed her formally. “Lady Mackintosh, may I accompany ye to yer coach?”
She curtsied. “You may, milord.”
Glossary of terms for Scottish books
A bairn is a baby or baby doll.
The barmekin or bailey is the plaza inside the castle walls. The operations necessary to fortify the castle against sieges and provision for everyday life lined the interior walls. The streets were generally cobbled or stone to keep wagon w
heels from sticking.
A bard is the keeper of the oral history of a people, through song, poetry, and the telling of legends. It is an ancient tradition. He had to know the clans’ history and keep track of new events amongst the people, writing songs and poetry for future generations.
A boineid (bonaje) was a Scottish bonnet, fitted around the crown of the head, puffy on top with a pom in the middle. Ribbon allowed for the adjustment of the crown. Lowlanders wore the ribbon dangling. Highlanders preferred the ribbon tied into a bow.
A bothy is a small cottage or shack.
Men usually wore their clan’s breacan or tartan plaid in a kilt.
Women also wore kilts, but often wore the breacan, plaid, in the form of a cape or shawl pinned over the shoulder with a brooch.
A brochette is a rotisserie set over fire in a large hearth.
Brogues are boots or shoes.
Burn is water, a creek or stream.
A cairn is a rock hut. Believed to possess magical or miraculous powers, a large number of castles built towers, the first construction on those sites. Abbeys, in particular, built over cairns with the idea they’d control the activity.
Careg is rock or gravel.
Ceilidh (kay-lee) is evening entertainment: musicians, jugglers, magicians, etc. in the great hall or bailey.
A chatelaine is the woman in charge of organization and operation of the castle and occupants.
A cockernonie is a woman’s snood or bonnet.
A dais is a platform, in the great hall. The high seat of the chief, where he held judgment, and the high table were on the dais.
Two weapons were constantly at hand, a dirk, a twelve-inch blade sheathed in a holster worn under the arm and a sghian dubh (skee-an dew), a six-inch blade with a short handle worn tucked into the top of the sock or stocking.
