The Last Sunset (24 page)

“Way tae go, Sam,” he murmured into the cold
darkness.

Andy edged his way through the crowded
cottage to where Alistair lay, surrounded by a little group that included Mary,
Rhona and Colin.

Alistair’s frame of mind had improved since Andy
had spoken to him earlier that day. He greeted the soldier warmly, insisting
Colin pour him a large dram. Mary smiled shyly at Andy as she took his hand,
able to acknowledge the existence of others, now that her patient was on the
mend. The other ladies also took his hand, before retreating behind that
familiar air of reserve. There were some thirty people crammed into the cottage,
many clutching bowls of food or tumblers of
uisge beatha
.

“Ah take it ye’re feeling better this evening?”
the corporal asked.

“Och, a man on his deathbed would be thinking
all’s well if he had an angel such as this for his nurse,” Alistair replied.

Colin translated this into Gaelic for the
ladies. Mary’s friends reacted with shocked delight, as though the bold
Alasdair
Mhor
had stolen his first kiss. Mary studied the floor, a self-conscious
smile on her face.

“…Thanks to Mary I should be up and about in a
day or two,” continued Alistair, “but tell me this and tell me no more, Andy
Macmillan; is it true what himself has been saying; that today is only the
twelfth day of April?”

“Aye, it seems we got the dates wrong by eleven
days. Ah take it Colin has told ye what they’re planning?”

Alistair looked proudly at his brother. “Indeed
he has; I pray to God they reach Drummossie Moor before the sixteenth. They
have given themselves no more than three days to travel sixty miles.”

“Drummossie?”

“It was the old name for Culloden,” Colin
explained.

Alistair went on: “My brother has also said you
have volunteered to remain behind with ourselves in case the English come
back…”

Andy nodded. “Sam and Shawnee think it’s only a
matter of time before they return tae finish the job they started.”

To Andy’s surprise Rhona echoed his anxiety.

“The devil’s servant may have repented his sins
but the devil’s work continues,” she said darkly. “Even as that creature sought
forgiveness for his crimes he warned us others would return to complete the
business.”

Rhona saw the surprise on Andy’s face and added
disapprovingly: “He looked chust as yourself is now. As if one of the beasts of
the field had spoke to him in his own tongue.”

Andy realised he was staring and smiled
apologetically. “Most of the beasts Ah’ve met in Glen Laragain have been in
uniform. Maybe when this is over you could help me learn some Gaelic.”

The little touch of diplomacy seemed to satisfy
Rhona. “ ’Twill be my pleasure, sir; and perhaps I should also help my cousin
Ishbel learn some of the English tongue?”

“Does everybody know about that?”

“All know the Lady Ishbel has accepted your
suit, sir. All know yourself has been spoke for.”

Only then did Macmillan understand why the women
had been so reserved with him. He took a gulp of whisky, and felt the fiery
liquid burn a path into his stomach. As the warmth spread into his bloodstream
he took another gulp, draining the glass. The whisky wasn’t as volcanic as
Achnacon’s brew, and Andy guessed it had been watered down for Alistair’s
benefit. Colin offered a refill but Andy shook his head. He turned to Rhona:

“What was he like, this officer in charge of the
redcoats?”

Her lip curled as though she’d smelt something
putrefying. “He carried the devil’s own brand on his face. He has nursed a
hatred of The Gael since he was marked by a claymore at Gladsmuir.”

“Gladsmuir?”

“Prestonpans,” explained Colin. “It was the
first battle of the forty-five, when the English were driven from the field
like sheep.”

“ ’Twas a pity yon claymore did not split his
skull; perhaps
Gleann Laragain
might have been spared this terrible
day.”

Andy decided not to disturb Rhona’s illusions;
coming to terms with what had happened might be easier if she carried the image
of a face she could hate and revile.

“It must have been Lieutenant Longholme,” said
Alistair.

“You know of this man?” Rhona asked sharply.

“I’ve read about him; Cumberland gave the
original order, but it was Longholme who carried the can for the massacre…”

“Carried the can?”

“Took the blame. Cumberland later denied issuing
the order so Longholme was made the scapegoat.” Alistair grimaced, aware he’d
made extravagant use of the past tense.

The faux pas had not been lost on Rhona. “Your
manner of speech is most curious, sir. The Lady Shaw-nee, spoke in similar
fashion, as if…” She shook her head. “…She possessed a book so terrible to
behold even that devil himself almost swooned at the sight of it. ’Twas the
contents of that book that made him call off his hounds.”

Macmillan’s eyebrows rose in sudden interest.
“D’ye know if she still has this book?”

“I know not; perhaps it was left behind with
him…”

“Och, I think the English will have learnt their
lesson,” Colin interjected. “I see no reason why they would risk another defeat
in Glen Laragain. Especially now the main battle will be fought on Drummossie
Moor.”

Macmillan’s scepticism was plain for all to see.

“You think those who set out for Drummossie
tomorrow embark on a fool’s errand?” observed Alistair.

“Ah think they’re playing at being God; toying
with history.”

“You think our history is worth preserving? You
think, given another chance, ourselves would not benefit from some of the
terrible mistakes we have made?”

Andy shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. Or maybe
we’d always mess things up, no matter how many chances we had. But that’s not
why they’re off tae Culloden tomorrow, is it?”

“Alistair and myself grew up in a land that was
emptied by Cumberland’s army,” Colin put in, “and by a hundred years of
dispossession and eviction. If the world benefits from righting these wrongs so
much the better.”

Alistair nodded approvingly. “Some would argue
that the benefits might have been felt far beyond these shores if the dice had
fallen differently in this land. I only know that in the world that grew from
this one I, myself, have seen hell on Earth. And now Colin tells me it was all
for nothing; that there would be a second great war, where cities would be
destroyed by bombs falling like rain from the sky, where camps would be created
for the sole purpose of putting innocent people to death… women, tiny babes… in
their thousands and millions…” Alistair was almost upright in his bed now, his
face contorted in pain. “What an awful low opinion you have of the human race,
Andy Macmillan, if you think that is the best ourselves are capable of…”

Mary gently stroked Alistair’s head as he sank
back into the mattress. Andy was conscious of the looks of disapproval he was
receiving from the others gathered round the bed.

“When d’ye plan tae set off?” he asked Colin
gruffly.

“At first light. We need to travel at least
twenty miles a day to arrive at Drummossie before the sixteenth.”

“Do Jamie and the others know this?”

Colin shrugged. “Och, I have seen neither hide
nor hair of them since I came in here. I had hoped to ask your friend,
Achnacon, if he could spare some of his people. I had thought, perhaps,
yourself might have had second thoughts…”

Andy shook his head. “Jamie seemed determined
tae make the journey and he’ll no’ let ye down. As for those other two; Ah’m not
sure Ah’d even want them on ma side, but if you’re serious you’ll need their
firepower.”

“…Yourselfs will be needing someone who is
familiar with the road to Inverness,” Rhona interrupted softly.

Andy looked at her in dismay, uncertain how much
she’d gathered. “Ah don’t think it would be a good idea for a lassie tae go
along; it’s gonnae be dangerous enough for the men…”

“…I was not asking your permission, sir,” she
said sharply. “ ’Tis the foolish adventures of men which has brought the wrath
of the English down upon our heads. All I have left in the world is two
brothers who face the English at Inverness and I will not chust sit here, like
an old
cailleach
, while the last of my family is took from me.”

Andy looked helplessly at Colin, whose
responsibilities were growing by the hour.

“It would be an honour if yourself was to come
with us,” he told her, his cheeks aflame.

Rhona nodded sharply and quickly composed
herself. She spoke to the other women grouped around Alistair’s bed, and with a
soft rustle of skirts all except Mary glided towards the door.

“Surely they’re not all going with ye tae
Culloden,” said Andy in disbelief.

Colin shook his head, the colour fading from his
cheeks. “Rhona is the only one travelling with us. Herself and the others are
away to prepare food, blankets and horses. Trust the lassies to take over and
start organising everything…”

Andy groaned, his soldierly senses outraged at
such unmilitary goings on. He appealed to Alistair: “The idea was daft enough
before, but now it’s just a disaster waiting tae happen; ye know that, don’t
ye?”

“If I could I too would be going with them,”
Alistair said firmly.

Beside the smoking peat-fire an old worthy was
recalling some epic adventure that was probably as old as the language itself.
Before the story was complete Andy noticed Sam guiding Shawnee around the rear
of the crowd towards them.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Sam whispered as
they reached Alistair’s bed. “We saw Rhona and some of her girls; where are
they off to in such a hurry?”

Andy looked to Colin, as the keeper of the dread
secret.

“They are away to make preparations for our
journey tomorrow,” the young man explained.

“What are you guys gonnae do?” asked Andy.
“Nobody would blame the pair o’ ye if ye just took off. As you said earlier,
this isn’t your war.”

Sam looked to Shawnee, murmuring; “yeah, I say a
lotta stuff, but y’don’t wanna listen to anything I tell yuh.”

Shawnee listened for a moment to the toneless
voice of the old bodach. His audience had probably heard the story many times
before, but they sat spellbound before him, like disciples before the Messiah.
She smiled wistfully and turned to Sam. “I think if these people would allow us
I’d like to stay here. If that’s okay with you…?”

Sam smiled gruffly and kissed Shawnee on the
lips.

Something was definitely different here, Andy
decided. Gone was the usual prickly repartee. It was only when he noticed a
wisp of straw tangled in Shawnee’s hair that it struck him in what sense things
had changed. Shawnee must have seen the comprehension in Andy’s face because a
faint flush rose into her cheeks, as if a little part of her soul had been left
bare. Andy smiled back, unable to tear his eyes away, helplessly basking in the
warmth of another’s fire.

Colin, meanwhile, was trying to explain to an
irate Sam that he had no control over every daft lassie in Glen Laragain.

“…She is a law unto herself, that one. If it’s
yourself that thinks she should not go, then you may speak to her yourself, for
she will pay no heed to me!”

“It’s a crazy idea; at least while Rhona’s here
we can try to protect her, but out there…” Sam turned to Shawnee. “You’ve seen
what those sons of bitches are capable of…”

“Rhona wants to go to Culloden with the guys?”
Shawnee said, horrified. “Oh my God, no! Andy’s guys are trained soldiers, they
can defend themselves… But Rhona? I was even hoping we’d be able to talk Colin
out of going.”

The young man stiffened indignantly. “I am not
skulking around here while the men go off to fight.”

“You’re my kin, for Godsakes. I don’t wanna find
you and then lose y’again in the same week.”

Colin looked to his brother for help. “Alistair
says he would also go if he had the chance. Himself is your kin as well.”

Shawnee looked at Alistair as if noticing him
for the first time.

“I was wondering when somebody was going to
introduce us.” The older brother held out his hand. “Colin has told me we are
related, in the queerest of ways.”

Shawnee’s response was a lot more muted with
Alistair than it had been with his brother. She held his hand, a poignant smile
on her face.

“You have my dad’s eyes. Colin has too, but it’s
more pronounced in you. I’m glad to see you’re a lot better. We were all
worried about y’there for a while. Mary wouldn’t leave your side ’til your
fever had broken. I’d say any man who’s earned devotion like that is a very
lucky man indeed.”

Alistair nodded in agreement and translated for
Mary’s benefit. Unexpectedly she responded in her native tongue, her voice soft
and deferential. Even before she’d finished Alistair had begun to reply.