Scotch Rising

by S. J. Garland

  Holding my breath I listened for noises in the hall, after what seemed an eternity. I heard a click from the door closing opposite. Counting to ten, I gently turned the knob and opened the door a fraction and with one eye I strained to identify the figure hurriedly making his escape. Broad shoulders and blond hair tied with a leather strap at the back of his head. I did not doubt it was Logan. I could not see the end of the hall and I counted to thirty before opening the door wider and glancing back down the hall.

  It appeared empty again. Logan must have used the passage to join the rest of the revellers in the ballroom. I closed the door behind me and crossed the carpet. I tried the door and it did not open, the bolt remained firmly in place.

  Swearing in frustration, I tried to use a bit of force. Hoping it might be stuck, however in the end I conceded defeat. Logan must either have a key or he was proficient at picking locks. Something, of which I only possessed the vaguest knowledge, and that, at this moment, seemed odd, as they were only tiny mechanical machines.

  “Captain, I dinnae know what ye are up tae here in the family quarters.” A young girl’s voice sounded from the end of the hall and I winced in response. My carelessness had caught me out.

  Thinking quickly, I staggered a couple of times and turned to face the young girl, whose eyes widened at my exaggerated drunken state. “Ah, girl, it is well you found me. I have been looking for the privy for ages. Must have taken a wrong turn some whereabouts. Might you point me in the right direction?”

  Turning red at the word privy, the girl came forward a few steps and coaxed me forward. “Och, ye surely hae taken the wrong way. Ye can nae use Master Beathan’s office, as a privy tae be sure. Bring the whole castle down around our heads, ye will. Ye follow me and we’ll both stay out of trouble.”

  At least I now knew what lay behind the locked door. Unfortunately it only raised more questions. Why would Logan be visiting Beathan’s office during the New Year’s Eve party? The rational part of my brain insisted it could be nothing. He could have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there alone. He could be conducting Deoch business, for example. I followed the small maid back down the main staircase. She pointed to another door leading from the front of the hall, curtsied and I gave her my thanks. At least none from the party saw my descent from the upstairs rooms.

  I walked back into the ballroom and searched the crowd. I watched as Phil spoke with an extremely animated Freya, whose glass tipped precariously with every sudden embellishment, and on to Beathan who stood with several of the workers from Deoch. I finally found Logan whispering in low tones to one of the workers I had seen around Markinch, who kept to himself. Logan looked up and caught my eye. For a minute we stared at one another across the hall. He must be aware of my suspicions, know I followed him. My mind might be trying to convince me of one thing. As Logan looked back to his companion, my gut told me he broke into Beathan’s office for some reason of his own. The man I watched had a plan.

  Chapter 14

  I wriggled my shoulders a couple of times, and walked through the boisterous New Year’s crowd. Musicians set up on the dais at the other end of the hall encouraged dancers onto the floor and the whole appeared as a jumble of tartan and men’s legs. Every so often a buttock might make an appearance to the hilarity of most. After my failed attempt to stalk Logan above stairs and discern his mission in Beathan’s office, I decided to keep a close eye on him. The crowd made it easy to blend, the alcohol compelling people to be friendly and accepting, I spoke with several of the villagers as I walked over to Tavish and Magnus.

  I found the two arguing over the best consistency for wort. With one eye on Logan’s position in the room, I interrupted their conversation. “Magnus, a happy New Year and thank you for opening your home to me this evening and, Tavish. I thoroughly enjoyed your at home, thank you.” I gave the older men a short bow.

  Magnus nodded his grizzled head. “Thank you, my dear boy, please forgive me if I dinnae stand. These bones became tae auld years ago,” I could see tiredness creeping into his eyes. “I am very happy ye decided tae join us fur the celebrations. I dinnae think Mr Turner thought much of parties.”

  Tavish peered up at me with bright eyes. He appeared to have garnered a second wind since he first arrived at the celebration. “I think he might hae been misunderstood.” He paused for a moment. I searched his expression, an emotion passed over his features, regret, sadness, guilt, it flew away in the next instant and I could not be sure of what I saw. He continued. “Seventeen hundred and eight is our year. Going tae be the best year fur Markinch and fur Deoch we ever had.”

  “Hear, hear,” Magnus raised his glass in salute. Tavish and I followed suit with cheers of our own. I only hoped Tavish’s prophecy would be correct. Too much death had visited Markinch already. Yet with Francis Stuart causing trouble, there could be more hardships to come for the village.

  “Ye out tae find my daughter, Captain.” Magnus winked up at me. “I never saw her dance half as well as I did when she stood in yer arms.” I caught myself before I could let my expression turn to schoolboy embarrassment over his cheek.

  All three of us turned towards the group of people dancing and laughing. My gaze wandered to a couple making use of a dark corner to indulge in a quick New Year’s kiss. I quickly looked away and directly into Magnus’s over-perceptive eyes. I coughed a few times to hide my thoughts, however, I felt sure he knew I imagined his daughter in my arms in the same dark corner. Doing precisely as the couple.

  “I believe I will find Beathan. I have not spoken to him since the beginning of the evening and it is growing late.” I bowed to each of the men and they nodded in return. “I do not want to stay abed all tomorrow.”

  Glancing around the hall, I realised I had lost sight of Logan during my short conversation with Magnus and Tavish. Turning quickly on my heel. I scanned all the faces in the crowd until I finally found him standing under the arch of the doorway to the entrance hall. He did not face into the ballroom, rather into the entranceway. Something prompted him into quick action and he strode the rest of the way through with a determined gait.

  Whatever might interest the deposed Laird of Markinch. Would also interest me a great deal. I tried to tack as quickly as possible through the drunken villagers. All of who decided tonight they would put their English prejudices aside and claim the excise man as one of their own. It would have been endearing if I had not been in such a rush. I did not want to lose Logan again. He could escape to any part of the house or even outdoors and I would not find him.

  Extracting myself from the hard hug of one of the mill workers, I walked briskly into the entrance hall; it remained empty except for the sour butler. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to follow Logan, I put aside my objections to the man and asked. “Did you see Logan come through here? Which way did he go? I have business with him.”

  The lie could be true. He managed Deoch after all and I collected the tax. The fact it might be close to two in the morning on New Year’s Day did not signify much. The other man turned and went out of the room. My shoulders slumped at the rudeness.

  Walking towards the drawing room, intending to continue my search. The butler came through another secret door with my frock coat. He held it out and I decided to humour him. As I slipped my arms into its sleeves, he said in a low voice. “Master Logan left the evening’s entertainment nae ten minutes past. I believe he meant tae head home fur the evening.”

  Relief at finding Logan’s direction turned to disappointment. I could not follow him home. What excuse did I have for stalking him through the night? “Thank you, I suppose I will also retire, please give my regards to the family.”

  The butler nodded his reply and opened the door. The evening’s chill burned my cheeks. The Scotch should have fortified them for the cold. The large door closed behind me and I stood on the front porch for several minutes. I lost my quarry once again, cursing into the night. I obviously needed some practise navigating ballrooms and par
ties, yet I felt sure Logan acted as if he followed someone.

  Not wanting the butler to open the door and find me still standing on the steps. I descended and walked slowly through the now empty courtyard. The fires in the cauldrons burned lazily, most of them would not reach the morning. Shrugging further into my lined coat for warmth, I walked under the portcullis and looked right and left. No souls remained outdoors, if the butler told the truth of Logan’s plans. He might well be home by now. Settled in bed for the coming New Year. It might be best if I followed suit.

  Striding briskly down the road, I looked out over the fens, remembering the previous evening I dined at the Castle, I had left drunk and in an argument with Phil. This time I might be less intoxicated, yet she and I still fell into an argument. An odd sensation of familiarity came over me as I passed the spot where I previously entered the fens. Any trace of the events swallowed by the snow and the changing temperament of the landscape.

  Whimsy prompted me to say a prayer under my breath for the McKinneys. I might have shared their grave for eternity without Kieran’s bravery. I gave another prayer hoping 1708 would be a year of beginnings rather than endings. I would put the tragedies of 1707 firmly behind me. Turning on my heel, I continued down the road. The first shadowy shapes of Deoch loomed in the distance. The torches lit to guide the revellers now extinguished, only the light of the moon remained.

  My thoughts drifted to Phil. She had looked fetching this evening and she might have welcomed a second dance if Beathan had not mentioned the militia. I cheerfully damned him, slipping on a patch of ice invisible in the moonlight. I felt myself falling as a shot rang out above my head, and I hit the solid ground with a heavy thud. The healed gunshot wound in my arm throbbing dully after the impact. Instinctively I rolled to the side of the road as another shot rang out and the lead ball struck the place I fell. Heaving myself into the ditch. Luckily it remained frozen in the night air. Freya would never forgive me for another bout of fever so soon after the last one.

  Breathing heavily I reached down and unsheathed the dagger at my ankle. I always carried a weapon of some description, never believing I would ever need one at a party. However I thanked Hania for his persistent teachings. Lying in the snow, hiding from an unseen gunman, appeared to be a frequent occurrence for me in Markinch. After a minute, I took stock of my position. Only two shots fired. Luckily each of them missed, though the first one only by the luck of providence. If I had not slipped on the unseen ice, my brains would be decorating the road.

  I took long steady breaths until I could listen for any noises in the night. I couldn’t even hear the scratch of animals. They must have been frightened away by the sound of the gunshot. Heaving over onto my stomach. I searched through the hard-crusted snow until I found a clump of heather. I pulled it from the frozen ground with a grunt and slowly lifted it above the lip of the ditch and waited. Nothing happened, the moon only gave enough light to make out shapes in the distance. Not enough to lend aid in deciphering the object. After another full minute, I discarded the bush and carefully rose to my haunches.

  All remained in silence as I rose to my full height and took in the rest of my surroundings. Stepping over to where the lead ball hit the road. I searched through the debris until I found it. Using the knife I dug it from the ground. The force had made it flat on one side. This ball of lead intended to end my life. Once again, I made the choice to take on the fens. Would I make it out for a third time? Searching through the side of the road until I found a bridle path. I stepped from the safety of the marked road and into the uncertainty of the Highlands.

  A noise from behind forced me into a crouch. Without much brush to shield my presence I remained vulnerable. However, if it were merely a reveller making their way home for the evening, they would miss my presence. I needed to remain still. My position only a few yards from the road. The light and the way the ground rolled made it difficult to watch for the newcomer. I tried to hide the clouds my breath made. Become my surroundings, as I listened to heavy boots rapidly striding down the road.

  The newcomer stopped near where I escaped the shooter. It might be a coincidence, yet they stopped for nearly a minute. I watched with shock as the shaded person left the road in precisely the same place I used. Presumably following my tracks. Heart beating quicker, I felt my muscles tense, hand-to-hand combat was a specialty of mine. I learned many tricks in the New World, finally a challenge in Markinch I could tackle with experience. I controlled the outcome of this battle, eyes straining, legs ready to lunge, arms and hands ready to grip, the knife held at a deadly angle, mind primed for the challenge. I felt alive again.

  The dark shape noticed my presence too late. Without a noise, I pounced, punching the other man in the groin. He immediately fell to protect himself and I kneed him in the face. He howled in pain as I pushed him face first into the icy snow and kicked him in the kidneys. Using my cravat I quickly tied his hands behind his back and used his familiar hair to pull his face from the ground.

  Logan coughed and choked. I knew all three blows I gave him would hurt like the devil. I leaned down and said, in a rough voice. ”Why are you following me? Did you fire those shots?”

  The other man groaned and tried to speak through his newly broken nose. After a couple of failed attempts, he managed. “Heard the shots. Came tae investigate. I dinnae fire any weapon. Check my hands, nae gunpowder marks.”

  With my knee pressed painfully in his back. I inspected his bound hands. The lack of light once again made it difficult to see and I leaned down and gave the cuff of his frock coat a sniff. No gunpowder, the smell would linger in garments for days. “So you did not shoot at me. It does not mean you did not have someone do it for you. Are you working with the McGreevys? Turner left behind some interesting theories. Did you kill the McKinneys? Did you kill Turner?”

  Shaking his head vigorously in denial, Logan tried to keep his head from touching the cold ground. “Nae working with the McGreevys. I dinnae hae anything tae do with the McKinneys’ or Turners’ deaths. Brought it upon themselves. They operated an illegal still. Nobody knew of it, not even Agnes, I tried tae investigate.”

  I stared up into the night sky, the stars twinkled back and a shooting star raced across. Looking down at Logan’s back it all made sense. “You knew the McKinneys received more grain than they could possibly use, you mentioned to Turner something odd might be happening up at the Turret distillery. Unfortunately, Turner was a clerk sent to do a soldier’s job and did not have the skills to carry out a proper investigation. He stumbled upon the truth, and confronted the McKinneys, however this does not explain his death.”

  “Yer half right. I pushed Turner towards the McKinneys. I had nae idea he was nae a foot soldier. Though I should hae known. A scholar by the looks of the drawing room at the cottage, I was told he could do the job.” Logan shook his head. “He never stood a chance, though I dinnae think he killed the McKinneys.”

  I stood and undid the binds around Logan’s hands. “You’re Colonel Manners’ spy. You are the one who told him of my misadventure and of the McGreevys’ possible involvement in operating an illegal still. You are the one responsible for possibly bringing the militia down on us. After all your bluster over how much you hate the English yoke. You are helping us gain a stronger foothold in your own community.” I spat on the ground, disgusted by his duplicity.

  Hands on his thighs, breathing slowly, Logan spoke to the ground. “It’s nae as simple as ye say. I do hate the English. Ye took my birthright from me. I hate someone more than I hate them. The family who eats sleeps and breathes in the home I would hae owned if nae fur the English and their damned civil war.” Logan stood to his full height. “Colonel Manners promised me I would hae my inheritance back if I provided a service tae him, everyone knows the true King is coming back. Francis Stuart. He will sweep through the Highlands and trample the English.” A feverish light entered Logan’s eyes, made all the more disturbing as his nose still bled. “And the Scots w
ill take their rightful place.”

  “Is Colonel Manners aware of your leanings?” I watched the other man cautiously, uncertain of his motives. “I should not think he would want a spy who hoped for the old pretender to take the English throne.”

  “Och, well, as ye know, Manners has his spies all over the Highlands, England, the world, for all I understand,” Logan rubbed his nose with his sleeve and winced. “He knows I would do anything tae hae Markinch back under its rightful family.”

  Eyeing the other man warily. “Why did you break into Beathan’s office this evening?”

  Logan looked unsurprised. “I knew ye followed me, ye certainly hae been awfully interested in my goings of late. If only Manners told ye I spied for him, ye might hae been able tae catch the real killer.”

  “And who is the real killer?” If he knew or had a suspicion at least all my week’s work would not be in vain.

  “I hae a pretty good idea of who it might be, but I can nae make any accusations yet.” Logan sighed heavily. “Which is why I came back tae investigate the shots, hoping they might lead somewhere. When I saw the lead mark in the road and evidence of someone avoiding being shot, well, I followed the path and found ye, lurking in the fens.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I would not apologise for taking the other man down. I thought he might be the shooter. Instead I said. “I think we better work together. Manners is not one for idle threats, if we do not find the murderer. The McGreevys. He will send the English Militia and I guess you want to avoid this possibility as much as I.”

  Turning back towards the road, Logan spoke quickly. “I hae a lead, however we must follow it tonight, I think.” He looked up at the sky. “There is nae much light, yet we must find the McGreevys with their still. It is the only way tae get the answers we need.”