High on a Mountain (19 page)

“You’re looking fine and fit,” Aodh said to
Ailean, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You look well, too,” Ailean said.

“Coinneach, have you recovered? Are you still
having headaches?” Aodh asked.

“I’m doing well enough. It’s good to see you,
Da. We’ve missed you. But you,” Coinneach turned his attention to
Niall, who appeared thinner than Ailean had ever seen him. “You
look too fat and lazy. Don’t they make you do anything but sit
around and eat?”

They all laughed.

“And how’s your mother?” Aodh asked.

“Very well. Of course, she’s having to work
hard, like all the women, since there’ve been no men to take care
of things except Ailean and me,” Coinneach answered. “We’ve been
working the fields, trying to get them ready for planting, but with
just the two of us…” He shrugged. “How long do you think it will be
before we can all go home?”

“That I can’t say, son,” Aodh said. “But I
hope it will be soon. Maybe we’ll hear—”

“I’m ready to go now,” Niall interrupted. “We
haven’t been doing anything, haven’t had any battles since Falkirk.
A few regiments have been involved in some skirmishes here and
there. But mostly, we’ve just been sitting here. I wish, if we
aren’t going to fight, we could go home…now…I don’t want to be in
this place.”

“Patience, son,” Aodh began.

“I’m tired of being patient. I want to leave.
Now. I don’t like this place.”

“We’ll leave when our chief tells us to
leave!” Aodh’s voice rang out, stern and harsh. He frowned at
Niall. “What have I told you about speaking out like that?”

Niall turned his eyes away from his father
and stared at nothing, his lips compressed into a straight
line.

“Come,” Aodh said to his two older sons.
“We’ll show you where we bed down.”

____________

The next morning, soon after sunup, the
sounds of drums and pipes came echoing through the streets of
Inverness, a summons to arms. Ailean’s pulse quickened. He dressed,
strapped on his sword and followed the others into the gathering
crowd of men.

The MacLachlainn colors fluttered above the
heads of the crowd on one side, and Ailean made his way through the
throng to join his clansmen. When the men had assembled, Prionnsa
Teàrlach Stiùbhart led them out of Inverness, toward the east,
toward Culloden House and Drummossie Moor.

TWENTY-THREE

The march out of Inverness ended in the area
by Culloden House. Ruairidh found a likely place to situate his men
near some woods. He instructed them to find a place to rest, and he
left them.

“He didn’t give us any rations. When are we
going to get something to eat?” Coinneach asked his father.

“I’ll go ask him. Sit down and rest,” Aodh
told him.

Aodh was gone for a long time. He returned
late in the evening, an angry scowl on his face. He sat beside
Ailean without saying a word.

“So, where’s the food? When do we get
something to eat?” Ailean asked him.

After a long silence, Aodh said, “There’s no
ration today.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m so hungry.”

“Surely there has to be
some
thing to
eat.”

His three sons all spoke at one time.

“There’s no ration today,” he repeated.
“Nothing.”

His tone caused them all to fall silent, and
they sat for some time without speaking. The sun moved below the
horizon and the chilly day became a frosty night.

“Try to get some rest,” Aodh said at last.
“We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

Ailean took off his sword and unfastened his
belt and brooch. He shook out his
féileadh-mòr
, wrapped
himself in it and tried to settle in for the night. But he didn’t
fall asleep right away because of the rumbling of his empty
stomach.

Early the next morning, Prionnsa Teàrlach led
the army onto nearby Drummossie Moor and their leaders lined up the
men in their battle positions. For the most part, even though they
were hungry, the men were in high spirits and ready to face the
enemy, but there was no sign of the opposing force.

The men began to disperse. Some returned to
the area where they had slept, while others left for Inverness in
search of food.

Coinneach turned to his father, an
uncharacteristic firmness in the expression on his face.

“Da, I’ve got to have some food. If the
Sasunnach
had marched on us today, I don’t know if I would
have had the strength to fight. I’m going back to Inverness to get
some food.”

“You can’t do that, son. It could be marked
against you as desertion, and—”

“I’m not deserting. I’ll be back. And I’ll
bring some food for you and Ailean and Niall.”

Niall spoke up. “I’ll go with you.”

Aodh didn’t answer. He watched as they walked
away, his shoulders drooping. He turned to Ailean.

“You’re not going with them?” Aodh asked.

“No. I’ll stay with you. If you can stand the
hunger, so can I.”

The sun slid near the edge of the horizon,
allowing night to lay claim to the day. Ruairidh brought food to
his men, a single oaten bannock for each of them.

“Just one?” Ailean asked, but Ruairidh didn’t
answer.

“Be thankful for what you have,” Aodh
said.

“Where are Coinneach and Niall?” Ruairidh
asked Aodh.

“They went to Inverness to find food,” Aodh
said.

“I hope they don’t get shot for deserting,”
Ruairidh said with a frown.

“They didn’t desert. They went to get food.
They’ll be back.”

Ruairidh shook his head and walked away,
muttering to himself.

Aodh and Ailean devoured the bannocks, which
only whetted Ailean’s appetite.

“Da, I’ve never been this hungry. Not even
that year we had a bad crop,” he said.

“Me either, son.”

Ailean sat on the cold ground, hungry and
miserable. He did not undress, but pulled the upper folds of his
féileadh-mòr
over his head for warmth. The longer he thought
about their situation, the angrier he became.

“What’s wrong with the chief? Does he not
care about us anymore? Or has he lost his senses!”

“Ailean! You know better than to speak of
your chief so disrespectfully. I won’t have my son saying—”

“I think the way he’s treating us is
disrespectful,” Ailean said bitterly. “I wonder if
he’s
going hungry, too. Or if he and the other chiefs are having plenty
to eat while we starve.”

Aodh said nothing more. He stared through the
deepening dusk at Ailean as though his son was a stranger.

____________

The sun had set when the chief came from the
council of war with Prionnsa Teàrlach. He told his tacksmen to form
their men into a column and be ready to march when the order
came.

“March? Where to? And how are these men going
to march when they’re half-starved?” Ruairidh asked.

“It’s Prionnsa Teàrlach’s decision, not
mine,” the chief said. “Just be ready.”

____________

Not long after sunset, the order came, and
the columns started to move. Ailean slogged along, grumbling
quietly to himself, wondering what could be the purpose of this
march in the darkness. At last, the column stopped. He lowered
himself to the ground with a groan, exhausted but grateful for the
chance to rest.

After a brief respite, the men were ordered
to move again, and Ailean struggled to his feet. After several
hours of marching through the rough countryside in darkness,
half-asleep on his feet, Ailean heard a distant drum roll ahead and
became alert.

“What do you suppose that is, Da?” he
asked.

“Could be Cumberland’s forces. I suspect
we’ve been marching toward his encampment all night.”

They halted again, but this time Ailean
didn’t sit to rest. He sensed something was wrong. When the men
were ordered to move again, the column veered sharply to the left
and was soon marching in the direction of Inverness. Ailean looked
over his shoulder and saw small dots of fires in the distance
behind them.

About an hour before sunup, in the gray,
pre-dawn light, they were back where they had started from, on the
grounds of Culloden House. When they stopped, Ailean sank to the
ground where he stood and immediately fell asleep.

He was awakened mid-morning under a gray and
cloudy sky. Niall shook his shoulder again. “Wake up! The
Sasunnach
are coming!”

Ailean rubbed his eyes and looked up at
Niall.

“I thought you and Coinneach went back to
Inverness.” He rolled over and pulled the woolen fabric of his
clothing closer over his shoulder and closed his eyes.

“We did. We found some food and came back
during the night and everyone was gone. But you’ve got to get up
now. Ruairidh just told us that they’ll be sounding the call to
arms. He wants us formed up and ready to move.”

The MacLachlainn clansmen gathered round
their banner when the chief’s piper began to play. In spite of his
hunger and exhaustion, Ailean felt the now-familiar stirring at the
sound of the pipes, the eagerness to meet the enemy. He took
several slow, deep breaths, trying to gather strength for what lay
ahead.

Lachlainn MacLachlainn sat astride his dun
horse near his piper, surveying his clansmen as they assembled
around him. Another man, whom Ailean didn’t recognize, sat a horse
beside the chief.

“Look lively, there, lads! We’ll soon give
Cumberland a taste of Highland steel!” The chief shouted words of
encouragement to enliven the weary, hungry men. “Come along,
men!”

The chief turned to the men assembled
alongside the MacLachlainns, around the banner of Clan
Mac’Ill’Eathainn.

“And you Mac’Ill’Eathainns will stand beside
us! The two clans with the fiercest fighting men in all the
Highlands joined as one! We’ll be fighting side by side, in the
center of the front line!” He gestured to the man on the horse at
his side. “Teàrlach Mac’Ill’Eathainn, of your brave clan, is my
second-in-command. He will be your lieutenant-colonel in this
fight.”

Teàrlach Mac’Ill’Eathainn swept his gaze over
the assembled men before speaking.

“Men of Clan Mac’Ill’Eathainn. Today we will
join together with the brave men of Clan MacLachlainn. We will
fight as one to avenge the outrages Cumberland’s Cambeuls visited
upon our families while we have been away from home, serving
Prionnsa Teàrlach. They burned our homes, stole our cattle,
stripped our women of their clothing. We will avenge ourselves and
our families!”

Mac’Ill’Eathainn’s riveting words aroused
Ailean, and his weariness lifted a little when they advanced to
take their positions on Drummossie Moor.

Ruairidh and the other officers arranged the
men three deep. Lachlainn MacLachlainn rode to his rightful place
in front of his clan, an attendant on either side and his piper
standing nearby.

Aodh and his sons were in the front line
behind the chief. Boisil MacLachlainn and his sons Raghnall and
Seumas moved into place to their left. Gabhran MacEòghainn and his
son Gòrdan were in position on the other side of the
MacLachlainns.

Ailean glanced at the MacEòghainns, saw the
spot where Faolan should have been standing. He noticed Niall was
looking at the MacEòghainns, too.

“Do you miss Faolan, little brother?” he
asked Niall. “Are you thinking about how he should be here with the
rest of us?”

“No. I was just wishing I had listened to him
and gone to the colonies with him.” Niall’s face, which usually
bore a veiled and otherworldly expression, seemed stripped of its
protective façade. He directed a sharp, tormented gaze at his older
brother.

Ailean’s eyes widened, and he stared at Niall
for a brief moment in shocked silence. Ailean turned his face away,
shaken by his brother’s response. Why would Niall say such a thing?
Surely he wasn’t a coward,
couldn’t
be a coward.

He turned his attention to the
Sasunnach
forces, trying to distance himself from the words
that still echoed through his thoughts. The enemy soldiers were
more than a mile distant. Ailean watched as they formed their
battle line far away over the moor, then reformed their columns and
marched closer. The delay was draining what little energy he had
marshaled, and he wanted the battle to begin while he still had the
strength to fight.

“I wish they’d hurry. I’m tired of waiting,”
he told Niall.

There was no reply. Ailean glanced at Niall.
He was watching the approach of the enemy with an odd expression of
resignation that caused apprehension to skitter through Ailean’s
gut.

“What is it, brother?” Ailean asked.

Niall faced his older brother. “Ailean, if
anything happens, if I…” he paused and took a deep breath. “If I
don’t survive this, I want you to know—”

Ailean interrupted him. “Don’t talk like
that! You
will
survive! And so will I. You—”

“Let me finish, please. I have to say this,”
Niall said, a shining glaze forming in his blue eyes. “I want you
to know that I love you. You’ve been a good brother to me. Always
remember that. Thank you for everything.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t
let anything happen to you. I couldn’t—” Ailean’s voice clogged,
and he couldn’t continue. He turned away to focus his attention on
the approaching enemy, his breaths coming shallow and rapid. Dread
wormed through his middle, spread upward to his chest.

TWENTY-FOUR

A cold wind, laced with intermittent rain,
buffeted Ailean. He pulled the upper folds of his
féileadh-mòr
over his shoulders and head, seeking protection
from the icy fingers that plucked at his bonnet and snatched up the
loose fabric of his clothing. Some of the men wore
triubhas
and
brògan
, which kept their legs and feet warm, but Ailean
and his father and brothers were poor and always went barefoot and
clad only in their long-sleeved tunics and
féileadh-mòr
.