Prince Across the Water (27 page)

“I'm as sure as ye are of yer own name,” McNab whispered back. “John McPherson himself told me to come here. The prince is waiting for us.”

Angus Ban rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Duncan, lad, go up and take a wee peek in the window.”

“Me?” My voice choked the word.

“Yer harmless looking,” said Iain. “Tell them ‘gulls' eggs and terns' eggs' if they ask.”

Angus Ban stifled a laugh.

“Suppose whoever's up there doesn't think me that harmless, say?”

“Then run like the devil and we'll give ye cover,” said McNab, grinning.

“Or see ye avenged,” Angus Ban added mischievously. He waved the pistol by way of reassurance, but it gave me little comfort.

I stood and started toward the bothy, keeping low and fixing my eyes on the door. It seemed a long way down and too open by far. I didn't betray those behind me by so much as a glance back. A hoodie crow flew off to my left, which made me flinch, but otherwise I kept on until I was close enough to be spotted by anyone inside.

Realizing then that I was coming upon them like a bandit or an enemy, I straightened up and held my arms out from my sides to show that my hands were empty and I had no weapons concealed about me.
Except Da's knife
, I thought, which was stuck in my hose and hidden under the awful trousers.
Well, at least they're good for something
.

I stood stock-still, awaiting some reaction from inside the little shelter. My heartbeats measured out the time as I waited for the crack of a pistol. I took one step more toward the bothy, then another, until I was no more than an arm's length from the door.

Surely, the prince has long since moved on
, I thought.
Or, more likely, McNab has been misled
.

I took another step closer.

But what of the chimney smoke?
my more cautious nature warned.

The last remnants of an old fire
, I told myself.
See how thin it is
.

I turned toward a low window and at that moment the door was flung open. Out jumped a red-bearded figure in Highland garb. He wore a dirty sark with a plaid wrapped round it, a black kilt, and worn boots held together with string. A plain blue bonnet sat on his head, like a bird perched on a tree limb. On his belt hung a sword in its sheath and a pistol was stuck down in the belt. Thin and young as Angus Ban, his eyes burned as if he were possessed.

I stared for a second, then stumbled backward, tripping over a mossy rock. “Yer … Yer Highness,” I stuttered in Gaelic as I fell.

The prince let out a rich laugh as two men with muskets emerged from the holly bushes at the rear of the bothy and two others came out the door.

“I told you not to worry. Here's your redcoat scout, gentlemen,” the prince told them in his halting English. “It turns out he's a fine Highland lad.”

Brushing off my clothes, I got slowly to my feet and then looked down to hide my embarrassment. Prince Charlie didn't seem at all like the grand figure I'd seen at Glenfinnan and Culloden. Still, he was a prince. I stood and touched my forehead. “Yer Highness,” I said again, this time in English.

A tall, handsome man with sharp cheekbones and gentle eyes limped to the prince's side. I recognized him at once. It was Lochiel, who'd stood between the prince and me that night at Glenfinnan.

“There's nae shame in being cautious, Yer Highness,” he said.

The guards suddenly raised their muskets and squinted down the barrels. They'd spotted Angus Ban and McNab climbing toward us.

“Easy, lads,” said Lochiel in Gaelic, placing a finger on one of the guns and pushing it down. “Even in this light I recognize the old Keppoch's son.”

Angus Ban hailed Lochiel, then he and Iain and McNab fell on one knee before the prince.

“Up, my friends, rise up,” the prince told them. “If there are spies hiding on the hilltops, you'll be telling them exactly who it is stands before you.”

I took a deep breath. At least I hadn't been the one to make that mistake.

We were ushered into the bothy, where, by listening to the conversation and asking a few whispered questions of Angus Ban, I soon learned who the prince's other companions were.

The stocky man who stayed close to Lochiel was his brother, Archie. A doctor, his services had been sorely needed when Lochiel had been carried off the field of Culloden, shot through both ankles.

Then there was Cluny McPherson, hawk-nosed and fierce, of whom I'd already heard tell. Also his brother Donald, Aeneas MacDonald of Lochgarry, and Allan Cameron, a young officer of Lochiel's clan.

There was scarcely room for us all in the bothy. It was lucky, I thought, that Cluny's four retainers were outside on guard duty, or we'd hardly be able to breathe.

At one end of the room a brace of pheasant had been spitted over the fire, the reason for the smoke. The smell was so delicious, my belly began to growl.

When he saw me eyeing the birds hungrily, Cluny told me proudly, “Prince Charles snared them himself.” He sounded as if he were bragging about his son rather than his prince.

“I've always been a keen huntsman,” said Prince Charlie, “but never before have I had to hunt to keep from starving.”

“Starving?” Lochiel said. “Why, just three days ago, my lord, I served ye a feast in another hut. Ye said, as I recall, ‘Now I live like a prince.'”

Prince Charlie smiled. “A feast, yes—with mutton and an anker of whiskey, butter and cheese. Such cheese. And ham. And minced collops, too.”

There was a wave of good-natured laughter at this description, and a jar of whiskey was passed round the company. I couldn't tell if there had really been such a feast or not.

“Take a care, lads,” Lochgarry added, “and dinna drink yerselves silly. The prince is a fine tippler. Why, as he tells it, he drank cold brandy out of seashells at Corradale and sent the others to bed, standing alone at the end of the night.”

Everyone but me laughed again, the prince heartiest of all. It seemed an odd thing to do, laughing about being drunk, when all about us lay danger. I suppose after all these months, the prince and his friends had become used to this outlaw life, but I doubted I ever could.

Angus Ban must have understood my concern, for he clapped me on the shoulder. “Have ye never heard it said, lad, ‘Laugh at leisure, ye may weep at night?'”

Indeed I had. “My ma says it often, sir. Usually when there's plenty to weep about.”

They laughed even harder.

The pheasants were cut into small portions and given us to eat by hand, along with some stale bread and a few crumbs of cheese. The prince ate a whole piece of white breast meat, sitting on one of the two stools in the bothy. Lochiel sat on the other. Everyone else stood around, sharing the rest of the pheasant. Even Cluny's retainers had a bite. It was the best meat I'd ever had, even if it was only a couple of bites.

Once the meager meal was over, and everyone had wiped their hands on their plaids or breeches, Angus Ban gave me a nudge. “Give the prince what ye have, lad, and tell him yer name.”

The prince looked up at me. “Have? Have?” He shook his head. “Do I understand this
have?”
But he said it smiling.

Cautiously I approached him. My heart was hammering as hard as it ever had in battle. I held out the brooch.

“What is this? I recognize this.” The prince turned to Lochiel. “Do I recognize this?”

Lochiel leaned forward to see what was in my hand.

“I am Duncan MacDonald of Glenroy, my lord. This comes from the Keppoch MacDonald. He died for ye, sire.” I glanced quickly back at Angus Ban, who nodded for me to continue. “His widow says that …” I hesitated, trying to remember exactly what she'd said, though I remembered her face clearly. “That ye'd have greater need than any of us for it.” I took a deep breath and the rest came out all in a rush. “And she said that ye could use it as a charm or sell it for food or use it as a bribe, and her prayers go with it.”

The prince took the brooch in his hand and admired how it shone in the glow of the hearth fire. “This lion, he reminds me of the old Keppoch himself,” he mused. “Steady-eyed and brave.” He suddenly seemed of two minds whether to accept the thing. “This was a gift,” he said, “and surely must pass to the widow, or to you, Angus, the son.”

I wondered what Angus Ban would say. For how does one say no to a prince?

Angus Ban waved the brooch away. “I knew my father's mind, my prince, and if he were here among us now, he would press the brooch upon ye with all the strength he had. There may be one last favor needed to get Yer Highness to safety, a favor that canna be bought by loyalty but gold would make the difference.”

“It's true, true,” the prince answered solemnly, “that on a few occasions, when I was out of money, there were those unwilling to shelter me.” He smiled wryly. “Though how can I blame such poor souls? They feared the fire and the lash.”

For a minute I was furious. “Some refused their prince shelter?” I said. “What of Highland hospitality? What of honor?” And then, remembering how only that morning I was hoping the prince would soon be gone, and no longer endangering Scottish lives, I felt deeply ashamed. I was lucky the fire was already too low for anyone to see my cheeks burn with the memory.

“Well said, lad,” Lochiel interrupted, “but remember there's nae Highlander who's spoken a word to put the redcoats on the prince's trail, neither for fear nor greed.”

The prince turned the brooch over in his fingers. “It is true there's a march of hazards ahead,” he said, “and a bauble like this might serve me well.” He looked directly at me. “I'll keep it for now, and I'll remember your honesty, young Highlander. Duncan, you say?”

At the mention of the march, the men all suddenly turned to business and I was no longer in the prince's eye. We made a circle around the prince and Lochiel, shoving the table to one side. The doctor poked up the fire with a stick and it flared to life again.

“What's the route?” asked Angus Ban.

“North and west,” replied Lochiel, “to my house at Achnacarry. Or what's left of it since Cumberland's men passed that way recently. Only we must go over the hills and not along the main roads.”

“Of course,” Angus Ban agreed. “If your poor legs can manage.

Lochiel gave him a dark look. “They'll manage.”

“Then we should go soon,” said Cluny, making a fist of his right hand, “and use the cover of night. Sleep will be a luxury. No telling how long the ship can wait for us. Days perhaps. A week may be too long.”

“How will we find our way at night?” I asked. I said
we
, though I didn't really expect to be taken along.

“That's why we need men who know the country well,” said Cluny. “McNab for here, and ye others as we go further west. Even ye, laddie. A body on his own land is the real jewel in the prince's hand. Not that bauble, for all it's a pretty thing and well meant.”

I knew he was right, but still it rankled. For the widow's sake, if not my own.

“Ye could stick a bag over McNab's head and with his bare feet he could feel his way from here to Loch Trieg,” Angus Ban joked.

“Further,” said McNab in his growl of a voice.

It was just the right thing to say, for we all laughed heartily and any lingering tension about the coming trek west was immediately set aside. And I knew that I would go with them whatever the consequences.

36 JOURNEY BY MOONLIGHT

In fact we waited till after midnight before leaving the bothy. McNab had us take the time to bury the bones of the pheasants and scatter the ashes of the fire. We overturned the stools and set the table against the hearth. The place looked as if no one had been there for ages.

“I dinna expect the Butcher to find his way here,” McNab said, “but one canna be too careful.”

We left single file, with McNab, Cluny, and the prince at the fore, and Lochiel and his brother at the rear.

It was hard going for five hours, with black tree branches slapping us in the faces, and us startling at every sound. We got as far as another, even smaller, bothy, where we spent the bright hours of the day sleeping curled up on the floor. The little building echoed with snores.

I was soon ready to believe that Angus Ban had spoken in truth, not in jest, when he said McNab could lead us with a bag over his head. Even through the thickest of red pine woodlands, or over small heather-spattered mountains, or down the narrow glens where water gushed over rocks into tumbling cataracts, he led us as surely as if the sun were shining. I wondered if I would be so certain of the way when we reached Glen Roy and it was my turn to lead. Of course, I knew the shieling meadow well, and the paths up and down into the village. And I knew how to go around the Gloaming Pool. Well around, for Mairi's spirit still haunted that place. But as for the rest … well, I would worry about that later. For now I had trouble enough keeping my head down and watching where my feet were planted.

The only delays we had were when we rested from time to time to allow Lochiel to catch up. Leaning on his brother's shoulder, he made a manly effort for one who'd been so badly crippled, and I never heard him complain. In fact, Lochiel was always the first to insist we carry on, even though the prince urged him to spare himself.

“Ye'll need me to get across to Achnacarry,” was all Lochiel answered.

Several times the prince tried to move on before the men thought it safe, and he was cautioned by them all.

“We canna be sure where Cumberland's men will be,” Angus Ban explained.

“Or the Butcher himself,” Lochiel added.

Each time the prince heard them out, then turned and smiled at me, shrugging. “Young Highlander,” he said, as if he'd forgotten my name, “I have been through this before. These men are not so much my subjects but my councilors. I must be ruled by them.”