Highland Soldiers: The Enemy (13 page)

Callum’s fierce eyes glimmered with anger. “If this is not a real marriage, then that was not a real kiss.”

For two days the prisoners marched until they arrived in Edinburgh. Jamie was imprisoned, along with the bulk of the Covenanters, at Greyfriars Kirkyard. There was no shelter there, but the Highlanders thought little of it. No Highlander reached manhood without having slept out in the open air. Snow and freezing temperatures made no difference. They would wet down their plaids, which would freeze and block out the wind. Having heard tales of this, Mari dreaded finding out what her Edinburgh accommodations might be. But Callum surprised her by bringing her to some rooms he had rented on the third floor of a merchant’s land on High Street.

“Oh, Callum!” she exclaimed as she rushed from one room to another. Large windows looked out over the street. The last room she found sported an iron bed with a thick mattress. She sat on it and sank into bliss.

“Eiderdown! Callum, it’s grand!”

The door latched with a click, and the mattress shifted as Callum stretched out next to her. He leaned on one elbow beside her and stroked the edge of her bodice. “Since we’ve been married, we’ve not had a proper bed to lie in.”

She looked into his eyes, which had a mischievous glint. “Aye.”

Callum sat up and seemed to be preparing to leave, much to Mari’s surprise.

“Well, I’m glad you clarified that fine fact,” said Mari, confused by his sudden inattention. She had not seen him removing his hose and shoes.

Callum turned and leaned over Mari’s feet. First he slipped off one shoe, and then the other, then one finger’s length at a time he slid her hose down until they lay pooled at her ankles and soon after slipped to the floor. Mari helped him unwind his plaid and let it fall in folds. Wearing only his leine, he knelt straddling her, taking care to favor his wounded leg. Mari took up the hem of his leine in her hands while Callum slid his palms up the length of her thighs. She drew deep breaths as she held onto his muscular shoulders, and clutched at his back while he touched her and fed her longing. The need to be one drove them together. And after their passion was spent they lay entwined, having gasped and whispered their passion until all that remained was to breathe in like cadence. In the midst of the hush that settled upon them their love bound them to one another. No matter what might befall them, that love would bide well and forever with them.

*

Mari tried daily to visit her brother, but no visitors were allowed. She left food for him each time, but suspected that he got very little of it. Callum’s clansmen were among those assigned to guard the inmates of Covenanter’s Prison. With Callum at home, they came often to visit. Mari soon made a habit of entrusting them with food and supplies to take back to her brother. She welcomed their visits, not only for what they could do for her brother, but for the way Callum’s spirits improved in their company—not only from the wee dram or two that they shared, but also for the laughter they gave him. Sometimes they brought news from home. Nellie had returned safely home to the Highlands, and all was well there.

Ten days had passed since they had arrived in Edinburgh, and the lads were over for supper with news. The Privy Council had issued an order offering liberty to prisoners if they would sign a bond promising not to take up arms against His Majesty again. When she heard it, Mari jumped with glee and threw her arms about Hughie.

“Does Jamie ken yet?”

“Aye,” said Hughie, smiling. “Duncan told him not an hour ago.”

Then Mari threw her arms about Duncan and kissed his cheek. Callum sat across the room with his feet propped up and watched, laughing as Duncan took Mari’s elbows and gently stepped back an arm’s length from her.

“Jamie’s going to be free!”

Hughie pulled out his fiddle. “This calls for a ceilidh!”

Duncan gave him a dark look.

“For Mari,” said Hughie.

Charlie swept Mari into a dance while Alex played the bodhran. Soon he begged off, claiming fatigue, but Mari saw through him. He wanted a drink. With gentlemanly flourish, he offered Mari back to her husband, but he declined.

“Oh, Callum, dance with me!” said Mari.

“No, lass, my leg’s not up to it.” He noticed Duncan leaning on the mantle, a drink in his hand. “Duncan, this fine lass needs a partner.” Callum held out Mari’s hand. Mari’s smile faded to see Duncan’s reluctance.

“Callum, no,” Mari said, her eyes darting toward the frowning Duncan.

Duncan surprised her by coming over and taking her hand. Mari smiled, and his frown nearly dissolved. They danced about the room. To Mari’s surprise, Duncan was a fine dancing partner. Whatever had troubled him was gone now. Mari’s joy seemed to spread to everyone present. Charlie took a turn dancing with Mari. In the midst of the song, Callum set down his whisky. It landed too hard, causing the music and dancing to stop. All turned toward him in silent expectation.

“Sorry,” said Callum as he took pains to slowly stand up. “I’m going to bed.” His balance faltered.

“Steady, lad.” Charlie laughed.

Alex chimed in, “Whisky willnae cure your leg, but it fails more agreeably than most.”

Everyone laughed except Callum, who stared with a look of confusion and then sank to the floor.

Charlie was closest. Still laughing, he knelt down to pat Callum’s cheek and drag him up by the armpits. His broad grin changed to alarm. “It’s not drink that ails him. It’s a fever.”

Alex and Duncan helped carry him to bed. As they set him down, his plaid folded over, exposing the putrid bandage covering his leg wound.

“Mari!” Duncan called out, but she was already on her way into the room. “How long has it been like this?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Over a week. The doctor said there’s no more we can do but keep it covered and wait for it to get better.”

“Or worse,” Duncan muttered. He left, and returned an hour later with a professor from the University’s College of Medicine. How Duncan found him and got him to come so quickly, no one knew or dared ask. A dirk poised at the poor man’s back would not have surprised anyone there, but there was none. He, in fact, seemed to have come quite willingly, which impressed Mari even more with Duncan’s skills for persuasion.

The surgeon applied a mixture of egg yolk, oil of roses, and turpentine to the wound. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on his progress,” he told them. Duncan showed him to the door and pressed something—money, Mari presumed—into his hand. Closing the door, Duncan turned to find Mari before him.

“Thank you,” she said, looking weary.

His reply was brusque. “What else would I do?” His mood changed as he looked intently at her. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He abruptly left, closing the door behind him.

Callum remained feverish, barely talking—and then only in fits of delirium. The doctor came back daily; at what cost, Duncan would not say. Duncan, in fact, said very little, which did not go unnoticed by Mari. The one time he spoke at any length to her was the day after Callum fell ill.

“I’ve been guarding the inmates at Greyfriars Kirkyard.”

“Have you seen Jamie?”

“Aye. Sit down, Mari.”

This prompted immediate alarm. “Tell me.” She searched his eyes as she placed her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand in annoyance. Remembering herself, she removed it at once.

“He’ll not sign,” Duncan told her.

Mari looked up, and then closed her eyes. She knew her brother. Although not surprised, she was deeply troubled. “No, he would not, even though it would buy him his freedom.”

“He refuses to sell his conscience for comfort. He’s one of the few. Your brother has strong convictions,” Duncan said with respect.

Mari buried her face in her hands. “First Callum. Now Jamie. It’s too much.” She wept as Duncan sat silently by. When she had calmed down enough to speak, she said, “How many are left?”

“Lass?”

“How many prisoners are left?”

“Of the nearly twelve hundred, a little more than three hundred remain.”

“What will they do to him?”

“I ken not. It’s best not to think of it until we know for certain.”

Mari looked at him gravely. “They could hang him.”

Duncan was reluctant to agree, but he would not lie. “Aye. Or transport him.”

“And what good will his conscience be then?”

“He did send a message.”

“What is it?”

“He asks that you not tell your parents. It would be better for them to go on believing he is dead than to suffer another death, should it come to that.”

“There is no chance of my telling them anything. I have written to them. They sent me one letter, their last. I’m not to write to them again.”

He scrutinized her as she looked away. Tears filled her eyes and one trailed down her cheek, and another. His hand twitched as though he might reach up and wipe them away, but he did not.

Her voice wavered as she tried to hold back her emotions. “I’m losing everyone I hold dear.”

“Not everyone, lass.”

As she wiped tears, she said, “If I lose Jamie, I’ll have lost my whole family.”

Duncan said, “You’re one of us now. We’re your family.”

Moved by his words, she reached out and gripped his arm as she turned away and covered her face and her now uncontrollable sobbing.

“Och,” he murmured as he touched his hand to the base of her neck. She spun around and buried her sobs in his chest. Duncan held her in his arms until she was cried out, and lifted her chin.

Mari looked in his eyes. “You’re a good friend.”

His expression grew grim, and he looked away. “Aye.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he took a step back. “Goodbye, Mari.”

He turned from her and left without looking back.

*

The lads stopped by increasingly often, so that someone was always there with her. It worried her that they felt Callum was so ill that they could not leave her alone for fear something might happen. Duncan came with one or more of them daily to check in on Callum, after which he would slouch in a chair by the window and wait for the others.

On one such day, Alex once caught Mari studying Duncan. “Dinnae worry about him. He’s in a dark mood, is all. It will pass.”

But the dark moods continued. When the doctor had left one day, Mari closed the door gently. “What have I done?” She turned around to face Duncan. He looked at her with a dark and unreadable expression.

“You are Callum’s friend. He thinks highly of you and of your opinion. And I see that something’s changed, but I dinnae ken why.”

He held her gaze long enough to scowl and say, “I dinnae ken what you mean.” He turned away and walked to the window.

“I think that you do.” Mari waited. “Duncan, I love Callum. He is my life. I will never hurt him. Why will you not trust that?”

Impatiently, he glared at her. “Have you not got enough to worry about without me?”

Hurt but persistent, Mari walked over behind where he stood at the window. “No.”

Duncan bristled.

Growing desperate, Mari said, “I can see you no longer approve of me, or perhaps you never did.”

“Dinnae be daft, woman.”

She said, “Callum’s friends should be my friends. Am I daft to want that?” When he did not respond, Mari put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Duncan? Look at me.”

He whirled about. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and glared. His look frightened her.

Callum called out from his bed. Duncan released her, and they both rushed to the bedroom. Callum was fully awake for the first time in days. His fever had broken. Duncan watched from the doorway as Mari smiled and brushed Callum’s hair from his forehead. A moment later, the door closed and the latch clicked behind him.

*

In the lingering light of a summer evening, the MacDonell lads arrived to see Callum. They brought armloads of food, which was their habit. For Mari, they brought the surprise of a new shift, jacket, collar, and petticoats.

When she tried to refuse them, Alex said, “You were looking a wee bit tattered there, lassie.”

Charlie added with a wince, “We could not take any more of it, dearie, as we were the ones forced to look at you!”

Feigning offense, Mari said, “Oh, I see! Well, alright then. If I must, I’ll accept these—but only to spare the likes of you sorry lot.” She looked up into his mischievous eyes with a smile as she took the parcels of clothes and started toward the bedroom.

Hughie called after her, “It had nothing to do with two shop girls they followed—or with needing an excuse to go into their shop and make their acquaintance.”

“Och, hold your tongue, Hughie!” said Alex as he swatted Hughie’s head.

“Dinnae listen to him, dearie!” said Charlie. We were only thinking of you.”

Several minutes later the men sat talking and laughing with Callum, whom they had brought to the sitting room and propped up on pillows. The laughter stopped as one-by-one they saw Mari, just arrived in the room and enjoying the sight of them laughing with Callum. They were pleased by the sight of her too, as she stood in fresh clothing with a warm glow about her. Callum clasped her hand and smiled. His eyes swept over his Mari as the men showered admiration on her. She accepted their words with grace, even though she had not been raised to receive such attention. Her eyes settled on Duncan, who had been silent. Their eyes met. He seemed almost to smile. It was not much, but Mari took it as a semblance of acceptance.

*

Days followed in which Callum grew stronger. He and Mari went on walks. By summer’s end, Mari could no longer keep up with him. He was climbing the steep closes and wynds at a near running pace. He would wait at the top and scoop Mari into his arms and steal kisses in shadows.

The lads were over for supper one night, teasing Mari about Callum’s renewed vigor while she cleaned up after supper.

“Mari, lass, that broom will do you no good now that your man can outrun you,” said Alex.

“Aye, then I’d better put it in your more capable hands. And dinnae miss that corner over there,” she said as she placed the broom in his hand.

Callum circled Mari’s waist from behind and said, “A man would be mad to run away from this bonnie lass.” He planted a kiss on her neck.