Back Aa

Witch of the Glens

<h2 id="Chapter_12">12. Meeting at Pitlochry</h2> “’Tis sorry I am to see you away, wee dark love, but you must be putting more distance between yourself and the Campbells. And you must be searching for your own true family. To think of it! And you say Mac Cailein Mor was telling you himself that ’twas from a chief he stole you?” “And I but a bairn,” agreed Kelpie firmly. Having Callum and Alsoon believe her tale so readily almost made her believe it herself—and, after all, might not some of it be true? She tucked the little bundle of oatmeal and scones into her belt, and hugged the rough warmth of her new plaidie about her shoulders, pleased that it was the neutral black and white of the shepherd’s tartan and would not associate her with any particular clan. Luck was with her again, she reflected, that she had found these kind and simple people, willing to give her the food from their mouths and the clothes from their[147] backs—much simpler, if less exciting, than stealing. It made her feel odd to be given things this way. Perhaps if all folk were like these, or like Ian and his family, there would be no need to steal. Warm with a novel sense of gratitude, she was careful not to take anything from Callum and Alsoon that they had not given her. They stood just outside the low doorway in the brightness of the summer evening. The rain had become mere clouds glowing to the northwest, where the sun would soon dip briefly below the hills. The old couple regarded her anxiously, not at all happy to see her set off in the white gloaming. “Look you, now,” repeated Callum, “you must be going south and east for a bit, through Drummond and Stewart country, and then north through Murrays and Menzies, and when you reach Pitlochry, just be finding the home of my daughter Meg, at the tanning shop next the Tey River, and tell them I sent you, and they will care for you until you are away again.” “Aye, then,” murmured Kelpie, anxious to be gone. She had heard these directions at least twice before, and in any case she knew the country far better than she dared to let Callum know. “Haste ye back,” they said, and this Highland phrase was never used unless truly meant. No one had ever said it to Kelpie before. She caught her breath, turned her head away, and hurried off. [148] Traveling, she found, was easier without Mina and Bogle than with them, in one way. For folks had only to take one look at those two to know the worst. But Kelpie, as long as she kept her eyes lowered and her lip tucked demurely in, looked quite innocent, so that, even on the edge of the thrifty and Kirk-trained Lowlands, people were usually willing to give her food—and when they didn’t, Kelpie simply helped herself. Now and then she picked up rumors about what was going on in the Highlands, particularly concerning Argyll, who was, it appeared, still away in the west, chasing an elusive Antrim. As nearly as Kelpie could make out from bits here and there, Argyll had chased Antrim back to Ardnamurchen, where the latter had left his ships. But the ships had been spirited away by the English, just as Lorne had suggested, and since then the two forces had been playing catch-me-if-you-can all over the Highlands, with Antrim trying to rouse the clans against Argyll, the clans either afraid or quarreling among themselves, while Argyll tried to catch Antrim’s small army before it should become a larger army. “Aye,” said an old man, chuckling, in a voice not meant to be overheard. “Argyll will never be fighting a battle against more than half his number if he can avoid it.” “Dinna mock him!” whispered another. “Ye’ll no be wanting yon wild foreign Hielanders crossing the mountains[149] wi’ their wicked screechin’ pipes and attacking us, will ye?” “Dinna fret, they’ll no come. ’Tis too busy they are wi’ their own heathen fighting; Papists, the lot o’ them.” “They might, if Montrose could stir them up tae fight for the King against the Covenant.” “They would never do that. He’s a Graham from the East Coast, and those savages in the West would never stir a foot for any but their own chiefs. Anyway, they say Montrose is vanished altogether, and no doubt dead.” They both bent lowering gray brows when they saw the shamelessly eavesdropping Kelpie. She scurried away hastily, lest they think her a spy. She wandered on, begging, stealing, and listening, until she came at last to Pitlochry. There seemed a braw lot of people in the narrow streets of the town, and, surprisingly, many of them seemed to be wearing Gordon or MacDonald tartans. Whatever were those clans doing here? And those two young men striding along the street toward her.... “Dhé!” said Kelpie, and they all stopped short. They stared at one another with mixed feelings. “Why, whatever will ye be doing here, at all?” demanded Kelpie with astonishment. Alex recovered his wits first. “Why,” he said with the old mocking grin, “we were missing you and your bonnie friends so badly that we had to come away to look for ye.” [150] “Sssss!” remarked Kelpie, concealing her pleasure at the old bantering and reminding herself that Alex was a treacherous enemy. Moreover, she was never again going to permit herself the dangerous luxury of caring for anyone at all. Having told herself this, she turned to look at Ian with delight. A braw lad! Did he carry a grudge against her? she wondered anxiously. “And are you all right, Kelpie?” he asked kindly. “Mina and Bogle are treating you well?” “Sssss,” she said again. “They are wicked uruisgean, and I have left them this long time ago. I did not want to be leaving Glenfern whatever,” she added hopefully. Ian looked pleased, but Alex laughed. “Aye, it was a good enough life you were leading there, after all. But you seem to be doing well enough for yourself the now. Where were you stealing the gey sober gown and plaidie?” “I was not stealing them whatever!” Kelpie was outraged more by his manner than by his words. “But you would be saying the same thing even if you had,” encouraged Alex with a straight face. Kelpie’s lips began to curve upward as she remembered the teasing at the loch-side at Glenfern. She tried to frown, for it was not right to be teasing with Alex when they were no longer friends. But she could not help it. “Of course,” she agreed cheekily and grinned. “Och, the wicked wee lass!” Alex chuckled. “She’ll never change!” [151] “No, now, but she has changed!” Ian objected. “She could not laugh at herself when first she came to Glenfern.” “Are you sure ’tis herself she’s laughing at?” gibed Alex. “Or is it ourselves, just, for being ready to forgive her so easily—and after she was breaking the ancient code of hospitality.” “It was not my fault!” protested Kelpie. “Mina was threatening to put a curse on you all if I did not come with them.” “Och, how tender you are of our welfare!” said Alex derisively. “And that, I suppose, is why you were so quick to tell her all about how Ian and I met the King and Montrose in Oxford?” There was no use trying to explain, for he would never believe her—not that she cared a groat what Alex MacDonald thought, anyway. Perhaps she would be able to tell Ian about it some day, with Alex not around. An idea was growing in her mind. After glowering at Alex, she turned to Ian and looked up at him meltingly through long lashes. She had never before set out to beguile a lad, but Janet had put the thought in her head, and she might as well try now and see could she do it. Some deep instinct awoke, so that she seemed to know just how to go about it. “And what is it you are doing so far from Glenfern?” she asked softly. Was it her fancy that Ian’s smile seemed a wee bit[152] warmer than usual? “Why,” he said, “we are with Colkitto’s army, up at Blair Atholl, and—” Kelpie forgot about beguiling him. “Colkitto!” she yelped. “You mean Antrim?” “Aye, ’tis what we call him; Alistair MacDonald, Earl of Antrim, who has—” “Fine I know that!” interrupted Kelpie. “But where will Mac Cailein Mor be, then? On your tail?” There was alarm in her voice, and both lads regarded her curiously. “Na, na,” Ian said soothingly. “He’s away back to his own country, raising a larger army, no doubt, since some five hundred Gordons have joined us. Are you afraid of him, Kelpie? And what are you doing here, and where are you living?” Kelpie looked wistful. “I am all alone, and nowhere to five.” She sighed and then smiled up at him brightly. “It is in my mind to come along with you,” she announced. Alex laughed. Unprincipled little thing though she was, he did enjoy her shameless, incorrigible audacity! The workings of her mind fascinated him, and even though he could see through her so easily, he could never remain angry for long. Ian looked thoughtful. “Well, and why not? We’ve nearly as many women and bairns as we have men, for Colkitto brought the whole of his clan over with him to take back their land from the Campbells. And Lachlan brought his wife Maeve along to be cooking and nursing[153] and caring for us, for she does not trust Lachlan to do it properly. You’d be far safer than wandering alone. What about it, Alex?” Alex shrugged and lifted a red eyebrow. “Ou, I’ve no doubt at all that she can look after herself,” he observed dryly. “But I’ve no objection; only, Ian avic, let us not be trusting her as far as tomorrow, for there is no loyalty in her.” The lazy mockery of his voice had a whiplash in it, and Kelpie flinched, unexpectedly hurt by it. She lashed back, remembering the scene in Loch nan Eilean. “You!” she fumed. “You, to be talking of loyalty, who would strike down a friend from behind!” Alex gaped. It was the first time she had ever caught him out of countenance, and it gave her great satisfaction. Ian looked distressed. “Och, now!” he protested hastily. “Let you both be saving your fighting for the Covenant armies. Come away back to the camp, now, and we’ll talk as we go.” They started back, out of Pitlochry and over the narrow road lined with tall blooming thistles. The heather, just preparing to bloom, glowed rustily under the patchy sunlight. Alex strode along frowning, still smarting and dumfounded over the outrageous flank attack. What could she have meant by it, the wee witch? She had seemed genuinely indignant, too. For once she was not acting; Alex had been matching wits with her long enough to be sure[154] of that. Then what under the great heavens could he have done to draw such a denunciation, such withering scorn from an unprincipled gypsy lass who would doubtless betray her own grandmother for a bit of copper? It made no sense whatever. And although Alex reminded himself that the opinion of a wee witch could scarcely matter, he found that it rankled. “Dhiaoul!” he muttered under his breath and knit his brows in annoyance, leaving most of the conversation to Ian. “And why is it you’re so concerned over Mac Cailein Mor, Kelpie?” Ian asked. “Have you been studying more politics since you left Glenfern?” Kelpie hedged. “Is it likely I’d be wanting to run into the head of the Covenant army, and him death on gypsies and all who do not belong to the Kirk? No, now”—she shifted the subject—“tell me what has been happening, and why Colkitto has his army at Blair Atholl.” “Well, so.” Ian thought for a minute, his sensitive profile clear and grave against the mauve and russet and olive of the August hills. Kelpie tilted her own face to look at him as she kept easy pace while Alex walked, brooding silently, behind. “Did you know,” began Ian, “that Colkitto brought over his whole clan to fight for the King against Argyll and the Covenant, and perhaps take back some of the MacDonald land from the Campbells?” [155] “Fine, that!” murmured Kelpie, remembering that day at Inverary. “And Argyll away after him all over the Highlands.” Ian nodded. “And the English burned Antrim’s ships, so that he must stay here, will he, nil he. So he has been trying to get the other Highland clans to join him. He’s not had much luck, for some of the clans fear the Campbells too much, and some others have decided that they hate the MacDonalds even more than the Covenant—for the moment, at any rate. Lochiel doesn’t dare call out our clan yet, with Ewen still in Argyll’s hands, and—more important—with Argyll’s army so near to Lochaber. Can you imagine what would be happening to our women and children at Lochaber if Lochiel took the men away to fight the Covenant?” Kelpie could imagine, easily. Her blood ran cold at the thought of Wee Mairi in danger, and she nodded soberly. “Some of us Camerons have come along anyway, and so have some five hundred Gordons who are wanting revenge against Argyll,” continued Ian. “But most on this side of the mountains think we Western Highlanders are a band of wild savages, like the Red Indians of America. And even Stewart of Atholl—although he hates Argyll and the Covenant—will have nothing to do with the Irish MacDonalds. So—” He grinned at Kelpie mischievously. “We have just borrowed Atholl’s castle from him, and now we sit[156] and wait.” He sobered again. “I do not know what we will do next. There is a rumor that Graham of Montrose is still alive, and perhaps he is our hope. But to tell the truth, things do not look very good, and the Covenant armies will not sit still forever.” Kelpie’s lip lifted in sudden anger. “Och, ye will be losing this war, just!” she predicted despairingly. “For yourselves, and for the folk like me who want only to be left alone. You cannot get together even to save your own lives, but must always be quarreling clan against clan, and so ye will lose!” Ian looked depressed, but Alex came out of his black reverie with a laugh. “Listen to her, just!” he taunted. “The lone lass who lives for herself and no other will be giving us a lesson on cooperation! But even though you don’t practice what you preach,” he added somberly, “you’re right.” A puffy cloud blew over the sun, darkening the bright hills, and the thistles waved in a sudden sharp breeze. The small army was spread over the hill and moor near Blair Atholl, looking somewhat dispirited. Some men were hopefully cleaning their gear, polishing the huge two-handed claymores and battle axes which struck such terror into Lowland hearts. Others just sat, or wandered, or gambled, or talked. Women were busy gossiping, sewing, cooking,[157] arguing; but one tall, gaunt woman brooded alone. Children ran about playing tag or hanging about the men. A ragged, motley crowd it was, but fierce-looking enough, no doubt, to folk on this side of the mountains. Kelpie frowned suddenly. The whole scene looked familiar. “We’ve set up our wee camp spot over yon, just near those rowan trees,” said Ian, pointing to a spot partway up the hill. But before they were halfway there a flurry of excitement near the edge of the moor turned into an uproar. Men began shouting, running. A single shot was fired, and then several more. “It couldn’t be an attack!” Ian frowned, staring across the moor, “but what is it?” “’Tis he!” shouted Alex. “’Tis Graham of Montrose! Look you there!” “The King’s Lieutenant!” “He’s come!” “My Lord of Montrose!” The words were being shouted back and forth, and the sound swelled into a thunder of cheers. Kelpie found herself running with the lads toward the center of the excitement. As nearly as she could see through the crowd, the Lord of Montrose seemed to be a slight young man in groom’s clothing, with brown hair and a bunch of oats stuck in his bonnet. Dhé! She had seen him before! And now from the wooded hill a red-bearded giant in the MacDonald tartan—Antrim—rushed down to clasp the hand of the slight[158] young man, and Kelpie remembered. She had seen it in the crystal, that first morning at Glenfern. And so now they had come together, Antrim and Montrose, totally different and yet fighting for the King’s cause. What would be the outcome? <hr /> [159] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.