by Stuart Daly
‘Thanks for stating the obvious,’ Kilt remarked. She turned to Shanty. ‘So how are the boys going to wander amongst the clansmen?’
Roland frowned. ‘Yeah, Shanty, how are we going to do it?’
The dwarf was about to carve off another piece of meat, but paused and looked across at him. ‘You’ll dress as highlanders, of course.’
Kilt waved her hand around the clearing. ‘And look at the stylish selection of plaid shawls and kilts they have to choose from.’ Shanty smirked at her sarcastic comment before returning his attention to the lamb. She watched him expectantly for a moment before giving a frustrated sigh. ‘Okay, I give up. Where are you going to get the clothes from?’
‘Did you notice the small groups of clansmen walking across the glen towards the fort?’ Shanty asked. ‘Well, we’re going to ambush them and steal their clothes. The boys can then walk straight into the fort, study its layout and wait for the best opportunity to sneak inside the tomb. It’s all quite simple, really.’
An impressed smile crossed Roland’s lips. ‘It’s brilliant! Simple, but brilliant.’
Caspan nodded his approval of the plan. It was hard trying to determine the exact layout of the fort from the bluff. They couldn’t see what lay on the opposite side of the mound and the longhouse. As far as they knew, there might be several hundred more clansmen camped on the far side. There might even be another means of entering the tomb. The only way to know for sure was to get down there and inspect the base themselves. Being disguised as highlanders seemed to offer the best way to do it, enabling them to blend in and wander freely around the fort.
Shanty gestured with a flick of his knife over his shoulder. ‘There’s another copse of trees several hundred yards back that way, down in the glen. A track leads straight through it. I saw several groups of clansmen take that route yesterday on their way to the fort. It would be the perfect place for an ambush. The guards in the fort wouldn’t be able to see a thing.’
Lachlan’s lips formed a thin line as he looked at Caspan and Roland. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Roland nodded eagerly. ‘Is the sky blue?’ He peered up through the trees. ‘Well, actually, is it grey and a little overcast?’
Caspan chortled, then turned to Lachlan. ‘Since it’s only us three, let’s hope we don’t get into a fight this time. The odds will be stacked against us.’
Roland motioned towards Lachlan’s powerful arms with a tilt of his head. ‘Only slightly. And don’t forget that we can always summon our Wardens if need be. I should also point out that I’m a master of disguise. The fort is as good as infiltrated and the Dray weapon ours.’
Sara regarded him doubtfully. ‘Oh, really?’ Roland nodded confidently and she asked, ‘And when, exactly, have you had the opportunity to practise this skill?’
‘Oh, never.’ Roland smiled. ‘But I reckon I’m a born natural.’ He picked off a twig from his hair. ‘We should return to the bluff and start looking for some clansmen to ambush. I’ve got first dibs on any blue shawls.’ He started to make his way through the trees, then turned and called over his shoulder, ‘Oh, and that also goes for any bonnets, particularly green ones. I look really good in green. It brings out the colour of my eyes.’
‘This is never going to work,’ Kilt mumbled.
CHAPTER 14
DISGUISES AND ACCENTS
The companions descended into the glen. Keeping low, they hurried across the heather to the copse of trees Shanty had spotted. They then waited in ambush.
It was mid-morning before three groups of highlanders passed by, but Shanty signalled for his companions to remain hidden in the undergrowth that bordered the track. Each group contained over a dozen men, too many for the companions to handle. Even with the assistance of Whisper, Bandit and Talon – who were too big to hide in the undergrowth and had to wait further back behind a patch of thick-trunked trees – they’d run the risk of one of the highlanders escaping and alerting the fort.
Hours dragged by. Caspan was beginning to worry that this was a waste of time when Shanty whistled like a bird, warning of approaching enemy. Everybody hunkered down behind the shrubs and peered through the foliage, eagerly awaiting the unsuspecting clansmen.
Caspan readjusted his grip on his drawn broadsword and licked his lips. He wished Frostbite was by his side, but Shanty had advised against it. The largest of the Wardens, the drake might be spotted and give away their element of surprise.
They waited patiently, listening to the approaching footsteps, then, upon Shanty’s command, sprang from their concealment, catching the three clansmen by surprise. The highlanders didn’t even have time to draw their swords before Roland, Kilt and Lachlan had the points of their blades held threateningly against their chests. The men held their hands above their heads in surrender, their eyes growing wide with absolute dread when the Wardens emerged from the trees. One of them fell to his knees, petrified. Another froze, paralysed with fear.
Kilt prodded one of the clansmen with her sword. ‘I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. Whisper hasn’t eaten yet. And she’s particularly fond of highlanders.’
To add to her threat, the panther drew up alongside the captive, took several experimental sniffs of his clothing and licked her maw.
The clansman gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘We’ll give ye anythin’ ye want,’ he stammered, his voice choked with fear. ‘Just donnae let those beasts near us.’
Kilt gently pushed Whisper away and clicked her tongue. ‘Beasts? That’s not very nice. You’d better be careful or they’ll take offence to that.’
As if on cue, Whisper growled menacingly.
Roland flicked his sword towards the highlander’s kilt. ‘But now that you’ve raised the question of doing anything we want, you can start by giving me your clothes.’
‘What?’ asked one of the other clansmen, unable to extract his terrified gaze from the Wardens.
‘You heard me.’ Roland gave the man an appraising look. ‘In fact, you’re more about my size, and I much prefer your shawl and bonnet.’ He glanced at Lachlan and Caspan. ‘I’ve got dibs on this fellow’s gear.’ When they didn’t object, he turned back to the clansman. ‘Well, we haven’t got all day! What are you waiting for?’
Half an hour later the treasure hunters led their prisoners back to the clearing atop the bluff. The highlanders were gagged and bound and had exchanged clothes with the boys. As an added precaution, Kilt tied the clansmen to three of the largest trees bordering their campsite and ordered Whisper to guard them.
Caspan had wrapped one of the highlanders’ plaids around his waist, forming a kilt, then draped it over his shoulder in a shawl. It provided little warmth, and he was thankful he was still wearing his trusted leather doublet beneath his tartan. Many of the highlanders they had encountered at Mance O’Shea’s Break wore leather jerkins and tunics, so he didn’t think it would draw any unwanted attention. He wanted to wear his cloak, too, but Shanty advised against it. Although it would keep him warm, there was the possibility that a clansman might spot the Brotherhood insignia on the inside lapel. If that were to happen, the boys would be as good as dead. He also had to leave behind his Andalonian longbow, which would certainly arouse suspicion.
Caspan tried to lower the hem of his kilt, which reached only midway down his thighs. ‘This is going to take some getting used to.’
‘Do you think?’ Roland wobbled his legs experimentally. He was the only one out of the three who’d managed to put his plaid on without needing the girls’ assistance. ‘If you ask me, it’s quite liberating. Just keep an eye out for any sudden gusts of wind.’
Lachlan seemed too focused on the task that lay ahead to notice Roland’s jests. ‘Well, at least we now know a little of what’s happening inside the fort.’
Shanty, Kilt and Sara had questioned the captives. They weren’t from this area, claiming to have travelled from a village several days’ walk to the north. This was the first time they had ventured this fa
r south, sent by their laird to add their swords to the army that had answered the call of Roy Stewart, the leader of the mighty Stewart clan. The fort, which they learned was called Tor O’Shawn, was being used as a marshalling point for the army before it moved south.
The companions glanced worriedly at one another when they heard this. Darrowmere had already fallen to the highlanders, and now a second Caledonish army was amassing. This was dire news that had to be reported quickly to King Rhys.
‘It’s just our luck to ambush members of the worst-named clan in all of Caledon.’ Roland screwed up his nose. ‘Strathboogie! Honestly, what type of name is that? It’s no wonder they live at the far end of the country. With a name like that, nobody would want anything to do with them.’
‘It’s for the best,’ Shanty commented. ‘The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself when you’re in the fort.’
Sara nodded in agreement. ‘There’s safety in anonymity.’
‘Ano-what?’ Roland asked. Sara opened her mouth to reply, but Roland cut her short. ‘Don’t worry. I know what you’re talking about.’ He looked Caspan and Lachlan up and down and gave a satisfied nod. ‘Well, we certainly look the part. I don’t think we’ll have any problem getting inside Tor O’Shawn.’ He cocked his bonnet jauntily to one side and winked at them. ‘Ah’m a troo boorn highlander, ah’m, ye wee Jimmies.’
Kilt was helping Lachlan strap the claymore he had taken from one of the captives across his back. She stopped and blinked at Roland. ‘What was that?’
Roland stuck his chest out proudly. ‘Tis mah highland accent, that’s what. Tis the foonal tooch of mah disgoos, ye wee Jimmy.’
Kilt looked at him incredulously. ‘It’s absolutely pathetic.’
‘I have to agree with her,’ Lachlan said. ‘If you ask me, I think pathetic’s being a bit generous.’
‘Let’s see ye doo better,’ Roland challenged.
‘All right.’ Lachlan thought for a moment. ‘How’s this? I doona thunk the way tae toown is doon that yer bonnie rood.’
Kilt gave both boys a reproachful look. ‘You’re both banned from opening your mouths once you’re inside the fort.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’ Roland glanced at Caspan. ‘What do you think, Cas?’
Caspan gave his friends a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry, but they’re the worst Caledonish accents I’ve ever heard. Kilt’s right: you’ll be banned from uttering a word once we enter the fort.’
Roland looked at him challengingly. ‘So who’s going to do the talking then? You?’
When Caspan nodded, he grinned and motioned for him to demonstrate.
Caspan cleared his throat, then said, ‘Och, ah stubbed mah wee toe. Did ye no’ see me do’t?’
Lachlan pursed his lips, seemingly impressed. ‘That’s not half bad.’
‘How’s that any better than mine?’ Roland protested.
‘You sound like a highland yak giving birth.’
Caspan burst into laughter. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s right.’
‘Well, I still say mine’s the best,’ Roland said, pushing Caspan away. ‘We’re hardly going to get far telling everybody you’ve stubbed your toe.’
Sara gave the boys a concerned look. ‘Promise you’ll be careful.’
Roland squared his shoulders. ‘Hey, careful’s my middle name.’ His expression became serious. ‘Don’t worry, Sara. I won’t let anything happen to them.’
‘It’s not them I’m worried about,’ she muttered, turning to Caspan and Lachlan. ‘We’ll be keeping a careful eye on you from up here, but we’ll never get down there in time should things turn bad. Don’t hesitate to summon your Wardens.’ She hugged the boys, then stepped back, chewing her fingernails worriedly.
Roland straightened the hem of his kilt and winked at Caspan and Lachlan. ‘Now, ach, ah guess we shood get movin’, ye wee Jimmies. We’ve goot a bonnie tomb tae explore.’
Kilt shook her head at him. ‘I said it before, and I’ll say it again – this is never going to work.’
CHAPTER 15
INFILTRATING THE FORT
Kilt’s parting words weighed heavily on Caspan’s thoughts as he approached Tor O’Shawn. The fort was much larger than it appeared from atop the bluff. The palisade stood over twenty feet tall, with twin guard towers flanking the main gate. Packs of warriors patrolled the fortifications, clad in mail vests and armed with claymores, spears and basket-hilted broadswords. Most wore the kilts of the Stewart clan, but Caspan spotted a few groups of Wallace and Cameron warriors, who peered down from the battlements at the trio as they approached; hopefully, Caspan mused, because they were curious as to which clan they belonged.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and gave his friends a sideways glance. ‘Now remember – leave the talking to me.’
‘Nooh prooblem,’ Roland said, tapping the side of his bonnet.
Caspan’s heart raced as they neared the gate. Once inside the fort, he believed they’d be able to mingle amongst the clansmen, but they had to get past the guards first. With any luck, they’d be allowed to enter without being questioned. Any such hope was dashed, however, when one of the sentries stepped in front of them and signalled for the boys to stop.
‘Here we go,’ Roland muttered under this breath.
The guard pointed at their kilts. ‘Ah’m no’ familiar with yer tartan, lads. Where do ye hail from?’
Caspan tried his best to smile confidently. ‘Way up north. We’re from the Strathboogie clan.’
The highlander raised an eyebrow. ‘Strathboogie! Weel, ah’ll be.’ He glanced at a fellow guard who was leaning on his spear. ‘Ah thought they’d fallen off the face o’ the earth. Been years since ah heard o’ the Strathboogie.’ He looked at the boys. ‘How fares yer auld laird? What’s his name – Connor?’
Caspan nodded. ‘He’s good.’
The clansman whistled. ‘He must be ninety years auld now.’
Caspan squared his shoulders. ‘We’re tough up north.’
The man grinned, impressed. ‘Ah’m glad tae hear it, lad, ’cause we’ll be needin’ yer sword, that’s for sure. In case ye havenae heard, we’ve crossed the border an’ taken Darrowmere. Now we’re gettin’ ready tae take the rest o’ Lochinbar. That’s why our laird, Roy Stewart, has called on all the other highland leaders tae send men tae gather here. Soon we’ll march south an’ join forces with the army that took Darrowmere. It’ll be the largest gatherin’ o’ highlanders ever seen. Ye’ll be able tae hear our pipes all the way down tae Briston.’
Caspan tried his best to feign enthusiasm, but he could not have been more alarmed. Once he’d found the relic, he had to prioritise informing King Rhys of the new highland threat.
The guard stepped aside. ‘Once through the gate, head left an’ follow the wall. Keep goin’ until ye reach the wagons. Look for the man with the white beard. That’ll be Dougal. He’ll show ye tae a tent an’ get ye settled.’
Caspan nodded appreciatively. ‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, an’ ah wouldnae go wanderin’ over near the stables. There’s a group o’ Glengarry lads over there. We donnae want that feud o’ yers spillin’ over into the fort, so ye’ll keep yer swords sheathed an’ yer mouths closed if ye know what’s good for ye.’ The guard frowned. ‘How long hae ye been fightin’ with them? It must be over fifty years now.’
Great, that’s all we need, Caspan thought. Out of all of the clans we could have ambushed, we had to choose one locked in a bitter highland feud.
He smiled. ‘We’ll keep an eye out for them.’
The boys passed through the gate and made their way into the fort. They kept their heads low, avoiding eye contact in the hope of not drawing any unwanted attention. Caspan wanted to head straight over to the burial mound to inspect the entrance to the tomb, but he was conscious that the guard was still watching them. He hoped this was on account of the novel thought that they were from a clan that rarely ventured this far south. Wary nonetheless, Caspan paused to
remove one of his boots and pretended to shake loose a stone. All the while he studied the guard out of the corner of his eye, and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned to stop another group of highlanders arriving at the fort.
Roland nudged him and whispered, ‘So far so good.’
‘Yeah, as long as we don’t run into any warriors from the Glengarry clan,’ Lachlan muttered dourly. ‘How unlucky is that?’
Caspan nodded. ‘I know. So let’s just get this over and done with. The sooner we get out of here the better. Not only do we need to find the relic, but we’ve also got to warn the King about the Caledonish army that’s on its way.’
He looked over his shoulder to check that the guard was still distracted, then led his friends towards the burial mound. They hadn’t made it far through the sea of tents when they were stopped by a brutish highlander sitting at a campfire.
‘I donnae know where ye think yer goin’, but ye can turn back right now,’ he growled, barring their path with his sheathed broadsword. ‘Ye should know the drill: stick tae the area assigned tae yer clan. This section’s ours.’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Unless ye were plannin’ on stealin’ our food? Now that would be most unfortunate – for ye.’ He tapped the pommel of his sword.
Caspan was sure this comment was directed at Roland, who was licking his lips and eyeing off the lamb the man was roasting on the fire. ‘Ah’m sorry. We just arrived. We’re tryin’ tae find Dougal. Ah thought the guard said he was over this way.’
The highlander pointed to the left. ‘Try over there.’ He shook his head and mumbled to the clansmen sitting near him, ‘Strathboogie – their sense o’ direction is about as good as their bagpipe playin’.’
The highlanders laughed, and the boys turned around and headed back the way they came. For a fort that was full of so many people, Caspan was surprised at how orderly it was. Highlanders were notoriously territorial, and he mused at how Tor O’Shawn was a microcosm of Caledon, with each clan being allocated its own campsite, which they defended passionately.
