Highland Soldiers: The Enemy (14 page)

Charlie clapped his hands over Hughie’s eyes. “Dinnae look, laddie. ‘Tis no sight for young eyes to see.”

Hughie ducked and swatted his older brother away.

With no warning, Duncan announced, “I’ll be leaving.”

Everyone stopped to stare.

With a dismissive shrug, Duncan said, “I’ve signed on with a merchant ship.”

No one seemed quite able to find words, except Mari. “But why?”

He glanced about, but without making eye contact with anyone in the room. Gruffly, he said, “Adventure. New scenery.”

Hughie and Charlie exchanged looks of disbelief. Alex studied Duncan intently.

“Duncan, do you ken what you’re doing?” asked Callum.

Duncan shot a look of annoyance at him. “Aye. I ken well what I’m doing.”

Mari softly said, “Forgive us, but it’s a wee bit sudden.”

Duncan stood abruptly. “Sudden or not, it’s my decision to make, is it not?” The subject was closed. “Thank you for a fine supper, Mari. Callum.” With barely a nod, he was gone.

Callum stared at the door. He had known Duncan since they were boys. When something was wrong, the other one knew it, whether or not they spoke of it. This was different. Something was wrong, and he had not a clue what it was.

Alex rose and went over to Mari and took both of her hands. With a light peck on her cheek, he said, “Thank you, lass. Dinnae fash yourself about Duncan.” Charlie and Hughie started to get up, but Alex waved a hand, urging them to sit down. “Stay, lads. I’ll go find him.”

The next day, still drunk and head pounding, Duncan walked along the Leith docks to a ship bound for Poland. He boarded and did not look back.

Callum took Mari walking that day. The first falling leaves of the season swirled about their feet, looking as restless as Mari now felt.

“I want him to be happy,” said Mari.

“I’ve kent Duncan a long time. He’s a tough man, even by Highlander standards. He will work out what’s bothering him.” Callum gave Mari’s hand a pat where it lay on his arm, and they walked on, enjoying the day.

*

Edinburgh’s stone buildings cast shadows over the narrow streets as the bare trees stretched up to the darkening sky. It was a November evening, already dark when Callum came with news. Since Duncan had gone weeks before, Callum had taken his place guarding the prisoners housed in Greyfriars Kirkyard.

“Come, Mari. We’re going to visit your brother.”

“Jamie? Oh, Callum!” She threw her arms about his neck. “Truly?”

“Aye, lass, but we must make haste, and be quiet when we get there. I’m breaking the rules, ken.”

Mari bundled up what was left of a loaf of bread and some bannocks. “I wish I had kent. I’d have cooked for him.”

“Dinnae worry. I’ve seen that he’s gotten the food that you’ve sent. He’s better off than many.” Mari stopped at the door. “He’ll need another plaid.” She rushed to the bedroom and returned with a plaid.

A nearly full moon lit their way through the dark night as they wended their way through the kirkyard. Skulls and crossbones carved into gravestones and mausoleums peered at them as they passed by, while skeletons seemed to stop in the midst of grotesque dancing to watch them.

“Och! ‘Tis a dismal place!” whispered Mari.

Callum looked at her patiently. “It is a graveyard, Mari.”

“Aye, but to make good men bide here alive is not right.”

“It’s a bad business for all of us.”

They arrived at the gate, where a guard stood concealed by the grotesque shadows from tree limbs overhead.

“Hughie?”

“Aye, Callum.” Hughie opened the gate, let them in and then closed the gate quietly behind them.

Callum told Mari, “Wait here with Hughie.”

Mari nodded, bright-eyed with excitement. It had been over seven months since she’d seen Jamie.

Callum gave her shoulders a squeeze and, with a steadying gaze, released her and went in through the gate. He walked down a stone path, leaving Mari behind under the shadowy limbs of an old oak. She shivered, more from nerves than the cold. Yet she could not shake off the uneasy feeling that someone was watching. A sudden flutter of wings taking flight overhead jarred her senses. When the sound of footsteps drew near, she stood still.

“Marion?” came the familiar whisper.

“Jamie!” She threw her arms about him. “Och! You’re so thin!” She took a step back and stood holding his hands.

“Marion, I’ve missed you!” His smile looked weak in the shadowed moonlight.

“Is it very bad, Jamie?”

He lied. “Not as bad as it was. There are only three hundred of us left, so it isnae so crowded.”

“Good.” Mari looked at him, knowing their time would be short, yet finding it difficult to broach that which loomed largest between them.

“Jamie, it’s so good to see you.”

“Aye.” As he gazed at her, memories returned of their last time together, and his eyes shone with the tears he choked back.

“Och, Jamie. How could you let us believe you were dead? We grieved for you so.”

The roar of shouting rose up from the prison. “Stay here with Mari,” Callum told Hughie as he ran. The sounds of fighting grew louder.

Jamie grasped Mari’s hands and pulled her further from Hughie and spoke in a hush. “Listen, we havenae much time. I must get out of here.”

“I’m trying, Jamie. But you gave up your best chance.”

“What? To sign their bond an oath saying that we were wrong to fight back? Never. Not after what they did to Ellen.”

“But Jamie, it’s only paper. You’d be free! Ellen would want that.”

“I’d liefer spit on her grave.”

“Jamie!”

“Nor will I sign an oath saying that Archbishop Sharp’s death was a murder. It was justice.”

“You dinnae ken that.”

“Aye, I do.”

The moonlight caught the cold pride in his face, and it made Mari shudder.

The sounds of scuffling grew louder as a brawl escalated around the corner. Hughie said, “I’d best see what that is.” He headed down the short path and around the corner.

Mari studied her brother, now a stranger before her with a look so hard that she wanted to turn from him. “Jamie, they’re hanging five men for the murder of Archbishop Sharp.”

“I ken that. And I ken that they’ve got the wrong men.”

Mari was afraid to ask, but she had to. “How do you ken?”

“Those men were not there. I was.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Och, Jamie, what have you done?”

“Whisht.” He glanced down the path toward Hughie, and pulled her closer.

Mari shook her head slowly, not wanting to believe him, but she knew he was speaking the truth.

He said, “Those men are innocent—and the royalists ken it.” He glanced down the path again and lowered his voice. “They’re just hanging them to make a point. It does not matter to them if they hang the right men, do you not see? They will punish the cause even more this way. Faint-hearted men will give up—signing oaths—out of fear that they could be next. But what they dinnae grasp is that they will just make the rest of us stronger. Those who cannot be moved by ideas alone will be moved by their own moral outrage. The more martyrs there are, the more people will join us.”

“But they’re innocent men. They did not choose to be martyrs. You must do something.”

“What? Give myself up?”

Mari did not like that choice either. “It’s wrong to let innocent men hang.”

Jamie said, “So not only would you have me die, but you’d have me betray those who were with me?”

“Is there no way to let the authorities ken that they’ve got the wrong men without turning yourself in?”

“Mari, dinnae be daft. Forbye, it would weaken our side, and we cannot have that. No, it’s better this way.”

A brilliant light shone in his eyes, and its harshness frightened her. “Jamie, you’re weary. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Marion, listen. I’ve got to get away from here. There’s still a chance that someone could come forward and say I was there. If that happens, I cannot be here. They would kill me for certain.”

Mari did not know what she wanted herself. If she urged him to sign the oath, he would run from his duty to those innocent men who would die for his crime. But in saving their lives, he could die. He was her brother, she could not wish for that.

He grabbed hold of her shoulders with a bruising grip. “You must help me.”

“How can I?” Mari wished Callum would come back. She was frightened. This was not her Jamie.

“That guard of yours.”

“Callum?”

“Make him let me go.”

“Make him? I cannot make him do anything.”

“Oh, Mari. You could. You could talk him into it.”

“No, Jamie. I wouldnae use him like that.”

Jamie sneered. “And why not? He’s one of them.”

“Because I love him.”

“Och, wake up! He’s just using you, Mari. And when he moves on, he’ll leave you. You’re just one more dragoon’s whore in his eyes.”

Mari slapped him. He reflexively pulled back his arm and backhanded her, the force of which landed her against a tree. Mari held her stinging cheek and looked up in shock. She had never known him to be cruel.

He glared. “Dinnae be a fool, Mari. He’s one of them. They dinnae think like we do. They are brutal. They murdered my Ellen! How can you not see that? And by sleeping with them, you’re no better.”

“Sleeping with them? He's my husband!” Her face stung where he'd hit her. Still, she tried to forgive him. The strain of confinement had weighed heavily on him, but it was still a poor excuse. She said softly, “You dinnae understand.”

“Aye, I do.” He took hold of her face with one hand and loomed close as the words caught in his throat. “You’re his plaything. Something to amuse him between murdering decent people like Ellen.”

Bitter tears streamed down Mari’s cheeks as Jamie went on. “If you cannot see that, you’re an eejit—no better than a royalist camp follower. And the sooner you’re rid of him, the better.”

Two hands clamped down on Jamie’s shoulders and hurled him to the ground. “You’ll not speak to her like that.”

“This is a family matter and none of your business.”

Hughie reached down and lifted Jamie off the ground by the collar. “She’s my kin, too—Clan MacDonell. And I will not allow it.”

Jamie spat in Hughie’s face.

His full anger now at the surface, Hughie landed his fist in Jamie’s jaw. With a glance back, he said, “Sorry, Mari, but I’ll not let him talk to you like that.”

In that moment’s distraction, Jamie pushed back and regained his advantage. He kneed Hughie in the groin, and landed a blow to his jaw that sent Hughie back to the ground. With a dull thud, his head hit a stone and he lost consciousness.

“Jamie, what have you done?” Mari looked up to see light catch a blade in Jamie’s hand. It was Hughie’s dirk. He must have taken it during the struggle. Jamie was poised to sink the dirk into Hughie, when Mari threw her weight against Jamie’s side. He fell with a grunt, and then he lay still. Mari went to him and saw the dirk stuck in his side. “Oh, Jamie!” She called out for Callum, but the brawl, though subsiding, was too loud for anyone to hear her. She turned him over to look at the wound. The dirk had not gone in far, and his breathing was steady.

“Callum!”

A grunt drew her attention to Hughie. He stirred, but then went still. She reached over to check him. He moved when she touched him.

“Mari?” murmured Hughie.

“I’m sorry, Hughie, but Jamie is worse. I must tend to him.” Turning to her brother, Mari tore a wide strip from her shift and then wrapped one end around her hand. She took a deep breath, braced herself, and then pulled out the dirk and pressed the wadded bundle of cloth to his wound. As blood seeped through the fabric, she wrapped the bandage tightly about Jamie’s abdomen. As she pulled the ends into a knot, he moaned. “Are you trying to kill me?” He opened his eyes, and groaned as he put his hand on the bandage. “What happened?”

Mari forced a smile, but even in the moonlight he looked pale. “You fell on the dirk. It’s not very deep.”

A quiet moan drew Mari’s attention to Hughie. Wiping the blood from her hands, she felt his head to determine how badly he was hurt. With a loud groan, he swatted her hand from the large lump on the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” she hastened to tell him.

As she leaned over Hughie, she was pushed to the side with a force that took her breath away. She looked up to see Jamie step on Hughie’s slumped body and struggle to boost himself over the wall. With a grunt, he landed on the other side, on the ground. Gasping for air, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered away until his uneven footsteps grew faint in the distance.

Hughie fell unconscious as Mari cried out for help.

*

The next day, Hughie sat, with a headache to match the large lump on his head, beside Callum, Charlie, Alex, and three other guards who had been on duty the previous night. Before them was Captain of the Guards. Having heard their account of the prisoner’s escape, Captain Lumsden completed his examination of the other three guards. There seemed to be little doubt that the prison brawl had been staged to provide a distraction so Jamie could escape. He looked first at Callum, and then studied Hughie. “The events seem to hinge upon you two men. I now read from the Order of the Privy Council, under which we serve here:

… And that for that end they shall put them into the inner Greyfriars churchyard, with convenient guards to wait upon them, who are to have at least twenty-four sentries in the night time, and eight in the day time; of which sentries the officers shall keep a particular list, that if any of the prisoners escape, the sentries may assure themselves to cast the dice, and answer body for body for the fugitives, without any exception; and the officers are to answer for the sentries, and the town of Edinburgh for the officers. And if any of the prisoners escape, the Council will require a particular account, and make them answerable for them.

“Private,” Captain Lumsden said to Hughie.

“Aye, sir.”

“Tell me again how the prisoner came to be so close to the wall that he was able to climb over.”