by Alisa Adams
Cat shook her head adamantly. “I dinnae want to fight with a stick!” she said indignantly as she took the sword with a surprising strength.
“I think I am going to boke,” Swan said with dread as she held her stomach.
Neely whirled her head from the sounds of the hoofbeats coming towards them to Swan’s white face. “Sing Swan! Sing like ye used to when ye were afraid,” she said quietly.
“But they’ll hear me Neely!” Swan said worriedly.
“Ye must stay strong, like ye did when we ran from Brough!” She paused, thinking hard. “It doesnae matter, do ye ken? They’ll hear a woman’s lovely voice singing and think we are no enemy but only poor, weak women, not the fierce warriors we are. Like the Ross sisters, aye?”
Neely smiled encouragingly at the other women, nodding. They stared back at her with wide eyes.
“I have heard Swan sing. I am sorry, but ’tis not a lovely voice she has,” Cat said in a calm whisper. She shrugged her shoulders when the others turned to her and scowled.
Neely stifled a groan. “Weapons ready ladies,” Neely said in a quiet voice. “Swan, a song if ye please?”
Swan moaned quietly. “Neely, I really dinnae think— ”
The mist swirled and partially lifted in front of them. Two very large men with pistols shoved into the belts of their kilts were coming towards them on foot. Behind them they led a packhorse loaded down with rain-soaked sacks and behind the pack horse a small, white, very wet and skinny donkey with huge, long ears standing straight up in the air was being pulled along reluctantly.
The men stopped.
They stood there, feet braced, fists at their sides. They looked like twins, for they each had the same dark hair pulled up on top of their heads and tied with a strip of leather. They also had the same long, rough beards that were also tied with a leather string. Each had huge barrel chests covered by a soaked-through tartan and plain, dark kilts. They had matching evil smiles on their faces as they looked over the four women in front of them. They looked like they had just come upon a feast.
“Sing Swan! Now,” Neely ordered, as she blinked multiple times to clear the rain from her eyes.
Instead, Swan vomited violently over the side of her horse.
4
Neely groaned softly.
The twins took several steps back.
“Whit is wrong with thon woman?” one of the barrel-chested twins demanded.
“She be sick,” the other said with a matching scowl as he angrily wiped the rain from his dripping face and hair.
“Sing Swan,” Neely hissed urgently. “Or vomit again!”
“I cannae control me stomach,” she whispered back to Neely. She looked at the others. “Help me sing girls,” Swan pleaded in a whisper as she sucked in great gulps of air to still her stomach. She weakly began to sing, very fast.
“Though hurricanes rise, though rise ev'ry wind,
No tempest can equal the storm in my mind.
Though loudest of thunders, on louder waves roar,
There's naething like leavin' my love on the shore.”
“Noo thon woman that retched is singing,” the first twin said angrily as he glared at Swan.
Cat looked over at Swan, listening for a moment. She shook her head. “I dinnae know that one,” Cat whispered to Swan.
Neely rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘Farewell to Lochaber.’ Everyone knows that one!” she whispered back.
“But I dinnae know it!” Cat whispered.
“Pick another, Swan!” Neely whispered with a huff of frustration.
“To leave thee behind me, my heart is sair pain'd,
But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd.
And beauty and love's the reward of the brave,
And I maun deserve it before I can crave,” Swan sang.
The twins stared at Swan with their mouths hanging open. “Why is that one singing?” one of them asked.
Cat leaned towards Swan. “I dinnae know that one either,” Cat whispered to her.
“Nor do I,” Kaithria added.
Neely looked over and glared at them. “Sards!” she growled. “Ladies! Please!”
Swan started singing again, weakly, as she held her stomach. It did not work. She leaned over the side of Old Inch and vomited again.
The two men made a vulgar sound. “She just retched again! Whot is this?” one of them growled. He rested a big, beefy hand on his pistol as he eyed the women.
A clear, bright, beautiful, velvet voice rose up in song.
It was Kaithria.
She lifted her face to the rain and sang.
“The hearts of men adore thee,
The de'il he cou'dna skaith thee.
Or aught that wad belang thee.
He'd look into thy bonnie face,
And say, I canna wrang thee.”
“Now that one is singing,” one of the twins spoke loudly. “Why is she singing noo?”
“Doesnae matter. Whit are ye doing on our road?” the other man demanded of Neely in a loud roar. “This road is ours! Ye cannae pass until ye pay our toll!” He smiled wickedly at her and let out a booming laugh.
Neely reeled back from the din of the man's deep, roaring voice and laughter.
“What toll? There is no sich thing,” Neely shouted. “This road belongs to one and all who travel upon it!”
Behind her Kaithria sang sweetly and hauntingly.
Neely kept her eyes on the men in front of her, but she heard Cat whisper loudly, “Ye have a beautiful voice Lady Kaithria, for one who usually doesnae speak much.”
Neely also heard Swan lose her stomach again.
Kaithria stopped for a moment. “Thank ye. We had to sing in the convent,” she added before her voice rose in song again with Swan weakly joining her.
“Didnae ye say ye wernae a nun?” Cat whispered.
Neely whirled her head around and glared at Cat, mouthing for her to sing.
Cat shrugged her shoulders at Neely and started humming along, loudly and off-key. She did not know the words of this song either apparently, nor that they were in danger.
Neely rolled her eyes and jumped when the voice of one of the twins boomed through the air again.
“I say there is a toll, so there is a toll!” he repeated even louder. “I will take thon horses, and one of ye fer me and one fer me brother,” he said as he lowered his head like a bull and sneered at Neely. “But not the one that is hurling,” he added quickly.
His brother shoved him in the shoulder and pointed at Cat, shaking his head. “And not thon one with hair like a boy.”
Cat let out a squeal of anger and started to say something, but Neely cut her off before she could speak.
“We will leave the road,” Neely replied quickly and calmly with her chin in the air. “And walk around ye.”
“Ye willnae. Ye are naught but wee, defenseless women and must do as ye are told by men!” one of them thundered angrily. “Ye have no right to be aboot unaccompanied by a man so ye have to obey our command.”
Rain ran down Neely’s face as she studied the men in front of her.
They smiled again, evilly, anticipating that their commands had to be obeyed.
Anger welled within Neely. Anger and frustration that these men thought they had the undeniable right to order her and the other ladies to do their bidding. Just as Steil had. That a woman could not take care of herself, much less go anywhere without a man. And these men were demanding they obey their toll and do their disgusting bidding.
There was no way they were taking her horse Mentieth, or any of her friends.
Neely’s mind flew back to her stay at McKay Castle. She had spent time with Ina and Ceena, two of the Ross sisters. They had taught her some things about fighting. Ina had taught her some of the old language, for when she was very angry and could not say something she would like to say, else be considered unladylike.
Neely gritted her teeth, trying to control her seething anger. She knew
leaving the road meant the inevitable. They could not see very far in front of them in this fog and rain. She could not risk her friends or their horses taking a step onto what appeared to be firm ground, only to sink beneath the floating peat and be lost forever in the dark, brown, peat-soaked water beneath. She knew this part of Caithness was Flow Country, with the floating peat bogs and brown pools and streams stretching everywhere.
She glowered at the twins.
“Ye are a pair of bowfin, boggin, bampots!” Neely seethed at them. “Ye are naft, numpty, sleekit, scunners! Cacans, tolla-thons!”
Kaithria stopped singing. “Neilina,” she spoke quietly and calmly, “I dinnae believe that is helping.”
“Och, nay!” Cat said. “Keep going Lady Neilina!” she said exuberantly as she lifted her sword slightly in both hands. “Those are fine sweary words!”
“Ye dare?” roared one of the twins.
“She just called us idjuts, and evil and foul smelling and disgusting and shites and arse— ” said the other twin.
His brother thwacked him hard in the head. “I know what she called us!” He looked at Neely again from under his thick, dark brows. Rain dripped from those brows down his nose and onto his lips, blending with the spittle that flew in the air as he screamed at her. “Twill be ye I take first, and that fine black beastie yer lovely bum sits upon,” he said in a sneering growl.
“There are others coming behind us!” shouted Neely hastily. “Ye daren’t touch us!”
“I dinnae believe ye. There is no one behind ye but more weak women!” he spat.
Cat nudged Peigi up beside Neely. “Ye are right, there is no one. But we are not weak women! We dinnae need someone to help us!” she yelled at the two men as she raised her old sword slightly in both hands.
Neely groaned.
Swan trotted Old Inch slowly and dramatically in his high stepping trot, up beside Neely. “I am Lady Swannon McKinnon, Lady of Brough Castle, now the wife of Laird Wolfram McKay, chieftain of the McKay clan,” she declared, trying to keep her stomach still.
The men looked up at the white-faced, red-haired woman who had been retching. It was clear she was trying not to spill her stomach again.
“The Wolf?” they asked in unison.
“Aye,” declared Swan, “and she is the wife of Laird Greysteil McKinnon of Brough Castle.”
Neely spun her head to stare at Swan. Her grey eyes were wide with surprise.
Swan nodded encouragingly at Neely.
Neely turned back to the men. “Aye, I am Laird Steil’s wife!” she said quickly. When they looked at each other and back at her, she added, “He is the rider of the great black stallion Ben Nevis!”
The two burly twins gasped.
“Ye arnae!” one of them roared.
“I believe her. Dinnae ye see the horses they ride?” his brother said as he smacked his twin on the head.
“Of course I do, and I’ll have one of them black fancy horses for meself! Just like the great Ben Nevis!” He hit his twin brother back, viciously.
“But they said Brough,” he whispered to his brother.
The two men became uneasy. When they turned back to stare at the women it was with lowered brows and a grim intent on their faces.
Neely felt Teeth’s back bunch up under her seat and legs. The horse’s ears were pinned tightly to his head in anger and he was grinding his teeth. He started doing a very animated trot in place.
Swan looked over at her and gathered Old Inch’s reins. She put her legs into his sides and he too started trotting in place.
Kaithria did the same with her horse as she too brought Dummy beside them.
Cat did not know how to get Peigi to trot in place. But the talented and dramatic mare did it all on her own.
The four horses formed a line across the road, blocking the twins' way. The horses’ necks were held high and arched as elegantly as a swan’s neck. Their long, black forelocks covered their eyes and fell past their noses, swinging in time with the high trot they were doing there on the road.
The horses very slowly and dramatically started trotting forward in the misty fog and rain. They stayed in formation.
Some grey was showing in their black fur. They had women wearing skirts upon their backs, not knights in heavy metal armor, or strong, muscular warriors in kilts. They were still, as always, proud and intimidating battle horses.
Trotting high and slow.
Closer.
Intimidatingly closer.
Towards the two men.
The twins started backing up.
The horses came closer in their huge trot, and then closer still.
Mentieth gnashed his teeth at one of the twins.
The man quickly scuttled backward with a frightened scream, falling to his backside. His brother grabbed him and yanked him back to his feet.
The twins looked at each other and then as one they lunged at Neely, reaching out to grab her down from the horse’s back.
“That was yer first mistake!” Neely shouted at them angrily as she kicked out at them and swung her golf club. “Teeth!” she hollered.
Mentieth snaked his neck out and latched his teeth onto one of the twins’ shoulders.
The man let out a high-pitched scream and beat his fist into Teeth’s head.
“Och! That was yer second mistake!” Neely screamed. “Dinnae touch me horse!”
She used her targe to bash the twin in the forehead and then knocked his fist away from her horse with her club. But he kept swinging at the big black horse, trying to dislodge the horse’s teeth.
“Dinnae ye touch me horse!” she screamed again, as she raised her golf club. She started hitting him in the head as the man tried to hit Teeth’s face over and over with one fist and swing at Neely with the other.
The second twin tried to reach up to grab the club that Neely was hitting his brother with, at the same time that he reached for the pistol in his belt. He was unsuccessful as the angry woman on the black horse was swinging away at his brother in fury.
Neely kept up her screaming at the man, yelling at him to stop hitting her horse as she whacked at him again and again with her club.
She could hear Swan yelling at the man. Heard Cat cheering her on. And she could see Kaithria out of the corner of her eye trying to get in closer.
Mentieth had his teeth firmly in the man’s tartan and was yanking at him, oblivious to the man’s fists on his face. The horse was making it hard for the man to reach Neely with his other hand. Mentieth suddenly yanked harder and the man went flying to the ground, his pistol bouncing off the road. It sank into the dark boggy waters and disappeared.
The other twin grabbed Neely’s leg as he held the pistol at her.
“That was yer third mistake!” Neely yelled powerfully.
“Aye!” Cat added.
Cat instantly lifted her heavy sword up in the air with both hands and swung it clumsily at the man's head with a whoosh of breath.
The man stilled, letting go of Neely’s leg. His hand reached up to the top of his head.
Cat stared at him aghast.
“Och, oh me goodness. I am so sorry, so sorry!” Cat said as she stared at his head.
The burly twin held his hair by the leather strip and lifted. She had sliced his hair clean off his head above the leather ties.
He let out a roar of rage. His bushy black eyebrows were raised in fury, and his newly short hair was sticking straight up. Along with those incredibly thick eyebrows that seemed to be growing up into his forehead, he was an almost comical sight.
Cat stifled a laugh at the sight of him, until he turned his pistol on her.
Kaithria quickly kicked Dummy forward into the man, striking him down with Dummy’s muscular chest. She flung her booted foot out as the man fell, kicking the pistol out of the man’s hand and sending it flying off into the bog.
It came to the same fate as his brother’s pistol, sinking into the dark brown water and disappearing.
Both
of the men went still where they lay on the road.
The four women on their horses gathered around the two men laying prostrate on the road.
“I will assume ye will let us wee, defenseless, unaccompanied women pass?” Neely tried to say calmly as she looked down at them. Her chest heaved though, with all the exertion she had spent by hitting the one twin repeatedly with her club.
“Aye.” One of the brothers nodded quickly as he stared up at them in awe and fear.
“Carrying pistols is illegal in the Highlands, by the way,” Neely added. “As are Jacobites.” She glanced over at the sacks on the pack horse, and then back at the men. Neely reached over and took Cat’s sword out of her hand and pointed it down at the men on the ground. “Are ye part of the Clearances? Have ye been robbing or pillaging from villages hereabouts?”
One of the twins shook his head adamantly. “Nay, we just been trying to feed our families is all.”
Neely stared hard at them, then she slowly gave the sword back to Cat.
The women started to back their horses away, but Cat paused. She held the sword in both hands as she pointed it back at the men on the ground. “Ye should be happy we didnae kill ye,” she said.
The heavy sword bobbled dangerously in her hands as she tried to change her grip to hold it outstretched towards them as Neely had. She almost dropped it.
The men scuttled on their backsides away from her in alarm.
Cat regained her grip and lowered the heavy sword to her lap. “I really am sorry about your hair, though I do think it looks much better shorter,” she said with a sweet smile.
The man frowned at her in disbelief. He ran his big hand through the short hair that was sticking straight up on his head.
His brother looked at him and nodded with a smile.
The short-haired twin thwacked his smiling brother on the head in return.
“Oh,” Cat added, “I’ll be taking this sweet, tiny white donkey with us,” she said cheekily, and grabbed the donkey's rope as they walked past.
The two men just stared at the women as they walked their horses past them, as calmly as if they were the queens of Scotland.
5
