The Pretender's Lady

by Alan Gold

  Flora burst out laughing, a signal for the two groups to come forward and embrace. But Flora continued to hold the prince’s hand for a moment or two more than necessary. She liked its touch, hard from his rough living yet sufficiently tender and gentle to show that he had no need to prove himself a man. And the prince looked deeply into Flora’s eyes and saw a girl masquerading as a woman, her eyes delighted at just looking at him, her manner coy and retaining a reserve which was right and proper. It was he who removed his hand from hers.

  An hour later, the food was served, the light of its fire and the rising smoke hidden by a brushwood fence and a high canopy of bracken and ferns that caused it to be dispersed by the crown of branches high in the trees. The parties continued to exchange information, knowing that the chances of their being spotted were very slim. For the better part of the hour, the prince and his attendants, especially Alistair Macdonald, told how they had evaded the English troopers since Culloden Moor. As Alistair embellished, so the prince denied any bravery on their part, and instead paid tribute to the bravery and loyalty of the Highlanders who had given them food and occasional shelter, knowing the risks they faced from the Butcher duke’s barbarians.

  When they’d eaten and drunk and rested sufficiently, Hugh Macdonald said, “And what are your plans for quitting this Island, Your Highness?”

  The prince took a final drink from a flask of ale and wiped his mouth. “I am assured by loyal messengers who have managed to reach me that the French have a ship which will be waiting for me when I reach the Island of Skye. I have to get there soon, for then I will return to Paris where I will demand of King Louis that he provide me with the arms and treasury he once promised to support my claim to the throne. Be assured, my friends, that had the king of France been true to his word, I would have beaten the English and would at this moment be sitting on the throne in St. James’s Palace.”

  The party from Uist looked at each other in surprise, but Hugh indicated that he didn’t want any debate on any future military mission. Instead, he said, “Prince Charles, have you any idea as to how you’re going to evade the Duke of Cumberland’s troopers and sail to Skye without being seen? General Campbell’s men are everywhere on Uist and it won’t be long before they’re swarming all over Skye. The man’s closing in on you fast. God knows that Uist isn’t the largest island in the world and there are only so many places where you can hide. But with so many caves and in such rugged terrain, it’s unlikely that he’ll find you until you execute your move. Forgive the example, but you can’t see a rabbit or a hare until it bolts from its burrow, and that’s when I’m afraid you and your followers will be caught. When you make the dash for your boat and put to sea, then you’ll have nowhere to hide and your life will be imperiled.”

  The prince nodded and said, “I was hoping that you gentlemen . . .” he smiled and acknowledged Flora sitting at the edge of the circle, “and lady, could advise me as to the best way to evade capture when I’m on the coast of the Island.”

  Alan Macdonald said, somewhat too abruptly, “You managed to find your way here. You shouldn’t have too much of a difficulty finding your way from the coast.”

  Reacting to the tone, Alistair Macdonald asked, “I’ve been wondering this past hour why it is that two supporters of the English are here helping the prince. You, Hugh Macdonald, lead the Militia on Skye, don’t you. And you, Alan Macdonald, are a member of that Militia. For what reason are you here in support of our cause?”

  Without hesitation, Hugh answered, “The lives of innocents have been wasted every hour of every day since your defeat at Culloden Moor. Scottish blood is staining the heather. The only time we’ll be safe is when the prince leaves the islands and the Highlands and returns to France and Italy. Forgive my bluntness, sir, but your pretensions have brought Scotland naught but misery.”

  “And His Highness’ victories brought the Scottish people naught but pride, Hugh Macdonald,” said Alistair angrily. “It was because the king of France and the Welsh and the Irish and even the Scottish themselves stabbed us in the back with the dirk of treason that we lost at Culloden. But don’t forget our victories at Prestonpans and . . .”

  “I forget none of your victories, Alistair Macdonald. But I deal in the present while you relive the past. And in my present, innocent Scots men, women and children are being slaughtered. And the only way to put a stop to the pain is for us to help the prince leave this country as quickly as possible.”

  Alistair sat up in sudden anger. “Are you mad, Hugh Macdonald? Are you insane? The prince and his father are the rightful kings of this country and of England. Every loyal Scot should sing their praises. If we’d been properly supported . . .”

  “Alistair,” said the prince softly, “I beg you to keep your temper. Hugh Macdonald speaks his mind, and for that, he must be respected. I assume that Hugh speaks also for the rest of you?”

  Alan Macdonald and most of the party nodded in agreement with Hugh, except Angus and one of the other villagers. It was as the prince had feared. The Highland loyalty he’d enjoyed on the mainland hadn’t been reflected since he’d arrived on the Western Isles. But suddenly Flora spoke up.

  “Your Highness, I don’t agree with my father or my fiancé or the others here. I believe that you are the true and rightful heir to the throne of Scotland and that as loyal Scotsmen and women, we should support your claim and rid England and Scotland of the Hanoverians and their breed. What more proof do you want of the wrong-headedness of the Germans being in charge, father, than what’s happening in the Highlands right now. Innocents are being murdered by the butcher Cumberland. Surely that fact alone must give you cause to change your loyalties and support the prince and his father.”

  Prince Charles looked at Flora in admiration. She was both beautiful and passionate, and Alan Macdonald was either a lucky or a very unlucky man.

  “You’re mistaken, daughter,” said Hugh. “I have no loyalty for the English. I’m a loyal Scotsman. But a Scotsman who predicted what would happen when the prince landed not fifty miles from here a full year ago. And I’m a loyal Scotsman who is now particularly keen to prevent the same massacres which are killing Highlanders, from happening to my people in the Isles. And the only way to do that is to assist His Highness in quitting Uist and Skye and sailing back to France where he becomes somebody else’s problem. Forgive my plain speaking, Prince, but that’s all you’ll get from me.”

  Prince Charles could feel the anger rising from his party of supporters, but knew he had to force them to keep their tempers hidden. One enemy on the Island was sufficient cause for concern, but to have both the English and the inhabitants of Uist against him would mean his certain capture and death. And to make matters even worse, he’d been informed the previous day by a villager who’d come to the abandoned croft where they were staying to give them supplies, that several bounty hunters had arrived on the island intent on earning the £30,000 ransom on his head.

  “I admire your honesty and candor, Hugh Macdonald. And you, Miss Flora Macdonald, have been equally brave and forthright in face of opposition from your father and fiancé, which shows me your true spirit and determination. But I am still left with the vexed question of how I shall remove myself and my party from the island of Uist and repair to Skye. Might I purchase a small sailing boat, and set off in the dead of night?”

  Angus Macdonald laughed. “Do that and we’ll be scraping your bodies off the rocks come morning. The tides here are treacherous and at nighttime, you’ll mistake an inlet for the channel to the open sea and come to grief. No, sir, you’ll have to sail by day and be guided by somebody born on Uist who knows its ways.”

  “And you can’t take your party of ten men with you, sir,” said Hugh. “Such a large gathering would be bound to cause a stir which would quickly come to the attention of the English. No, sir, you’ll go to Skye with a guide and nothing more. You’ll farewell your party here, and we’ll ensure that over the next few weeks, we ferry them safely back to
the mainland where they can find their own ways back to their homes.”

  His party was about to object, but when they saw the prince nodding in agreement, they remained silent. Alistair Macdonald softly grumbled to make known his feelings about abandoning the prince at the most dangerous time of his escape.

  “And when shall I leave,” he asked.

  “When I can find a guide willing to risk his own, and his family’s life to save you,” replied Hugh simply. After a moment, he added, “And most probably the lives of his village.”

  “But father,” said Flora, “the prince must be in disguise. He can’t be allowed to appear as he is, even in those filthy clothes, for he’ll quickly be recognized by the troopers. If he’s not disguised, how will he get past the guards who are stationed at all the jetties all around the island?”

  Hugh looked at his daughter and asked, “What disguise are you talking about, lass?”

  She smiled. “The troopers are looking for a prince. Not a princess. Why not use some of my clothes and disguise him as a woman. He could be an Irish seamstress. We’ll call him Betty Burke. We could say that Betty is the seamstress to the daughter of the captain of the Loyal English Militia on Skye, Hugh Macdonald. That’ll make it even more unlikely that he’ll be stopped and searched by the troopers.

  “And I’m certain that once His Highness has washed and shaved, he could easily pass for a woman; he has fair skin and with the right clothes he could make a very handsome lass. That’ll fool the English guards for certain.”

  Everybody, especially her father and fiancé, looked at her in amazement, and for a moment, Flora was mortified that she’d said entirely the wrong thing and had offended some arcane royal protocol of which she was unaware. But then the prince beamed and smiled and nodded and said, “You’re a very smart and perceptive young woman, Mistress Macdonald. That’s an excellent idea, and one in which I’ll heartily participate. And will you be joining me on the voyage to Skye as my employer?” he asked.

  She looked at him in shock. “Me? Under no circumstances. I’m here with my fiancé, Mr. Alan Macdonald, to visit my birthplace as is the tradition of my people, and we’ve hardly left the baile of Milton since we arrived. No, sir, but as an engaged woman, soon to be married, all thoughts of adventure must be put out of my mind. I have certain important responsibilities now to my husband to be.”

  He nodded and said softly, “A pity, but I quite understand.”

  Part Two

  Chapter Seven

  THE TOWN (BAILE) OF MILTON THE ISLAND OF SOUTH UIST

  JUNE 22, 1746

  Flora Macdonald looked from one to the other, trying to appreciate what they were saying to her. She understood the words well enough, but how her father and her fiancé could even countenance such a proposition was beyond her ability to understand.

  They were in the front parlor of the small croft. Elizabeth, Angus’s wife, and their children were in the recently added extension to the house created by Angus for the additional space needed since the birth of their last bairn. He’d built it during the previous year and was now thanking the Lord because his house contained sufficient room for his stepfather Hugh, Flora’s fiancé Alan, and of course Flora herself who was given pride of place on the floor next to the fireplace in the front room. His new addition was in the back of his existing house and joined to it by a narrow corridor. But when he sensed the tenor of the conversation his stepfather was embarking upon, he had quietly absented himself from the front of the house, leaving Flora alone with just her husband to be and her father. She didn’t even notice his absence when she looked around the room, shaking her head, trying to clear away any misunderstandings.

  “But why?”

  “Because,” said Hugh, “a maid doesn’t travel without her mistress.”

  “So call the maid the mistress. Don’t say that she’s an Irish seamstress but that she’s a lady returning to Skye. Or if you must, say she’s my maid visiting Uist from the mainland and now that her visit is finished, she’s returning to her husband and family.”

  “No,” Alan interrupted, “don’t you understand, darling. We could call her the Queen of Egypt for all it matters, because in whatever guise the prince takes, he’ll arouse suspicion. A woman doesn’t travel alone in such dangerous times. You’re known on this Island as well as on Skye, and it won’t seem out of the ordinary if you travel accompanied by your maid. To do anything else will arouse too much suspicion. It’ll all be for naught unless Betty Burke travels back to Skye with you, her mistress.”

  “But why can’t you say that my maid is returning to my home in order to be with me. But why do I have to go?”

  “They know you’re here,” Hugh insisted. “They know you’re on Uist. If Betty Burke travels without you, they’ll want to know why, and the moment they begin to ask questions, the prince’s identity will be discovered. He can hide in caves, but he can’t hide his manhood.”

  “But father, they’ll know I traveled here with my fiancé Alan, and not with my seamstress Betty Burke. I can’t travel back with the prince, father. Surely you can understand that.”

  “We’ll say she traveled back from Ireland where she was visiting her family and came to Uist in order to meet you and your fiancé here. We’ll say that Alan is remaining on Uist but that you have to return to Skye to be with your mother,” said Hugh.

  Suddenly annoyed at all the contrivance thought out without consulting her, she snapped, “I’m an engaged woman, father. It’s unseemly.”

  “These are difficult times, Flora darling,” said Alan. “If the prince remains here and is caught, the entire population of Uist, including your brother and his family, may be slaughtered by the bastard English. Your father and I have talked this through at great length, but we can’t see an alternative.”

  “And what of the danger . . .”

  The two men remained silent. After a moment, she continued, “the seas and the tides. By rowboat. I’m not a sailor.”

  “Ach, girl, you’re more sailor than some Admiral of the Fleet. Since before you could walk, you’ve been rowing and sailing around Skye,” Hugh said.

  “Aye, around Skye which has calm waters but not around Uist. This is an altogether different sea, father. You know the currents and the winds around here. They’re a dozen times worse than they are on Skye. And you surely know the monstrous tides and waves. Skye’s arse is protected from the Atlantic storms by North and South Uist and the outer Western Islands, as though God had placed a blanket around it, but there’s no such protection for Uist. It suffers the full force of the winds and storms of the Atlantic. You know how many Uist fishermen have been lost to the terror of the sea. What’s to protect a small rowboat putting out from these waters? There’s nothing between Uist and the Americas but a thousand miles of fiercest ocean and the wildest weather in all of Christendom.”

  “Darling, do you think I’d risk the life of my most precious Flora unless it was safe. Firstly, Neil MacEachan has agreed to row you and the prince. He’s strong as an ox and has done the journey a hundred times. He’ll be another one of your so-called servants, though you must treat him kindly when you’re alone, as he’s taking a great risk. Treat him as a servant when you’re passing an English trooper of course, but remember that you’re only acting. Neil deserves the respect and regard of every Scotsman.

  “Secondly, you’ll set out in the early morning before the winds freshen, and by the time the winds strike up in the early afternoon, they’ll blow you safely into the harbor at Skye. And thirdly, it’s summer. It’s June for God’s sake. How often have you seen murderous winter’s weather in June? It’s stormier on a duck pond in the middle of a village than it is going out in the warm waters of summer.”

  Flora remained silent as she pondered her father’s face. She turned to her fiancé. “And you, husband to be. Are you happy for your future wife to risk her life and liberty in such an adventure? Is this the sort of man I’m marrying? One who disregards his wife’s safety?�
��

  “Flora!” shouted her father. “What a terrible thing to say to Alan . . .”

  “No, Hugh,” Alan responded quickly. “She has a right to ask and a right to be told. At first, I was vehemently against the idea of your traveling with the prince, for all the reasons you’ve espoused. I said you and the prince should return to Skye on the larger boat as paying passengers. But as your father said, the English are now searching every boat that leaves the Island and he’s sure to be found.

  “Then late last night, your father explained to me precisely what he’s just told you and asked for my endorsement of your participation. Darling girl, there’s far less danger to you in accompanying the prince than there is danger to you in staying here while the duke’s men are rampaging all over the Island, sticking their bayonets into anything that resembles a body. And your going with the prince gives him a much better chance of escaping, and that means that the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of Scotsmen and women will be saved. Would I risk your life for no good reason? Of course not. But on balance, it’s right for you to go.”

  She sighed. “Where is the prince now?” she asked.

  “He’s in a disused barn half a mile from here. He’s well hidden,” said her father.

  “Take me to him,” she demanded.

  “No, the risk is too great. The English troopers are everywhere, and the local people can’t be trusted, especially after the hangings up north. The fewer people who visit him, the greater the protection . . .”

  “I said take me to him. I want to know whether or not he agrees with your decisions. I shall not go until I’ve spoken, alone, to Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

  Although it was a sunny day outside, there was a deep gloom inside the dismal barn. She’d insisted on entering alone once her father had spoken the password to let the prince know that his visitors weren’t the hated Englishmen.