Clandara (9 page)

As they sat down in the narrow library, panelled in oak and filled with books from the floor to the ceiling, Katharine whispered to Annie who stood behind her chair, “Now, can you find one word of complaint? Come, woman, tell the truth without spleen … Isn't this a house you will be proud to live in with me?”

“I'm proud to live anywhere with you,” Annie retorted “Whether you end in a croft or a palace like this, masquerading as a simple Scottish dower house. And I've no spleen, milady. It's a fine house and so long as you're happy in it, so shall I be. But I don't like yon dour Macdonald … he's over full of himself if you ask me. But have no fear … I'll bring him down to his right size when the time comes.” And Annie contented herself with waving the Macdonald serving maids aside and seeing that her mistress had all she needed.

It was a long day, for Katharine wanted to see everything. She inspected the kitchens and walked through the fine gardens, talking earnestly to Ian Macdonald, until Annie's legs ached and the sun was sinking behind the purple mountains.

When they remounted and the grieve parted from them at the bridge where they had met, old Angus muttered disagreeably under his breath that he had never seen a place less like a Scottish house nor met people meaner with the whisky to an old man who had been ridden off his legs …

“Ach,” Annie snapped at him, “hold your tongue, grandfather … It's no matter if ye don't like it. I dare say there'll be servants enough for her ladyship there and ye won't be coming!”

It was dark when they reached Clandara, and Katharine went up to her rooms and changed out of the creased and dusty riding dress into a warm cloth gown trimmed with miniver.

“What a beautiful house,” she said again as Annie brushed and combed her hair and dressed it simply round her head. “I never imagined that I would live anywhere so beautiful! I do wish James could have been with us – I can't wait to tell him how I love it. I wonder who the visitor was that kept him?”

“Och!” Annie shrugged. “Who knows, milady? There's always business of one kind or another for the chiefs. Your own brother is out tonight; I heard the steward ordering some supper to be sent to your father's room.”

“Then you can bring mine there too. I'll go and see him now.”

The Earl was sitting by a blazing fire, for the nights were cold even in July, and Katharine was surprised to see that he had left his meal half finished. She came over to him and, bending down, kissed his cheek. He glanced up at her and he looked suddenly very old and tired.

“You're late, my child. Did you have a good journey?”

“Very good, Father. And worth every mile to see Kincarrig!”

“I hope it's a fitting home for you,” he said. “Sit down a moment, I want to talk to you.”

“Won't you let me tell you about the house?” she asked gently.

“Later, Katharine. I know you're pleased with it and that's enough for the moment. Did James Macdonald meet you there?”

“No,” she said. “No, he sent a message. He was detained at Dundrenan. Where's Robert? The steward said he was out.”

“Robert is at Dundrenan too,” her father answered. “A messenger came not half an hour after you left this morning, summoning both of us to the Macdonald's house. I felt too tired to go; besides, Robert deals better with them than I do.”

For a moment there was silence between them; the Earl was staring at the fire; he hardly seemed aware of her.

“Father, what is wrong? I know something has happened … why has Robert gone to Dundrenan?”

“The Macdonald's messenger brought this,” he said, and he opened his hand and held out a crumpled piece of white silk, sewn into the shape of a cockade.

“The Stuarts!” Katharine exclaimed. “Oh, Father, no!”

“That is their emblem,” he answered. “Thirty years ago one of these was brought here to my father in the dead of the night and he rode out as Robert has done. When he returned he had sworn himself to the cause of the King. Before he gathered our people and went out to war, he sent me by ship to France. I was his only son, Katharine, and he knew if he fell that I might be spared if I had taken no part in the Rising.”

“Father, what is going to happen? Has the King returned?” She was as pale as the silk she twisted in her fingers.

“I don't know,” he said slowly. “But it's certainly not the King who's coming. He's old and retired from the struggle. I believe it's his son, Prince Charles, who's making the claim for him this time. And it's a claim we will not answer. That's why I sent your brother. If the Stuarts are coming back to bring war and ruin to Scotland, the Frasers of Clandara are not going to join them. We lost all in the '15. Our lands and people could not survive another failure. And by God I know it will fail, whatever the enterprise!”

“But he cannot come back,” she said. “We've been at peace for all these years … nobody wants to fight now!”

“You speak for yourself and for us, my child,” he said. “But that's not the thinking of men like Alexander Macdonald and others. There have been rumours that the Prince would land with a French army for the past six months. I thought it would come to nothing, but now I fear it has. And there will be men mad enough to join him and destroy themselves and beguile others to destruction with them.”

“But what was the message, besides this? Did the man say nothing?”

“He brought a summons from the Macdonald of Dundrenan which he said was one of many going out to families all over the glens. And he gave me that cockade.”

“Has the Prince landed? If not, surely there is still time to dissuade him. Oh, Father, I cannot bear it! When will Robert be back?”

“By dawn tomorrow,” the Earl said. “As we are not joining, there is naught to keep him there.”

She looked down at the piece of silk which was now pulled and torn loose from its design. Her voice was very low.

“Do you think James will fight?”

“You know him better than I,” he said shortly. “Do you think that his love for you and his wedding and the fine house will keep him or any of his kin out of a battle? He'll fight, my child, don't doubt it. They'll come out and call their clansmen with them if there's any prospect of a war. Nothing could stop them. And I'll not let you marry into a family that will soon enough be ruined and hunted down for vengeance by the English. My name would not protect you then. If he wants you, let him remain neutral.”

“James does not know the meaning of that word,” she said slowly. “You know that, Father. And what he elects to do, I shall do also. I shall be his wife, and if he fights for the Prince I shall fight with him.”

She stood up and held out the white ribbons to him.

“What shall I do with this?”

“Throw it on the fire! I want nothing connected with this business in my house!”

“When Robert returns tomorrow we will know more,” Katharine said. “It may not be as bad as we fear. But, whatever befalls, nothing will stop my marriage to James. I want you to know that. Good night, Father.”

She slept little that night, not even confiding her fears to Annie, who slept on her straw palliasse outside her mistress's door. If James joined with the Stuarts, then she would follow James. She had no doubt of that. Her love and allegiance were given to him and she would travel to the battlefield with him in common with the other ladies and the poor wives and children of the clansmen, to succour their men or to mourn them when the fighting was over. She rose before dawn, and Annie found her watching by the window as the sky grew light, and then at last she told her in whispers that her brother was returning with news of a new war which would alter all their lives. But the dawn became day and the Castle was full of the sounds of ordinary activities; it was mid afternoon and Robert had not returned to Clandara.

The Great Hall at Dundrenan was full of men. Robert arrived early and stood drinking whisky and talking to James as one after another the heads of the local families and their sons came to Dundrenan.

Macdonald of Keppoch was already there, with his brother Donald and the two brothers of the lord of Kinlochmoidart, Ranald and Clanranald Macdonald. The Macgregor of Macgregor, a small redheaded man with a notoriously fiery temper, sat speaking to David and Hugh Macdonald and from time to time they laughed among themselves. The Glengarry chieftain came, and Robert greeted him; they were cousins by blood and old friends. The last was Cameron of Lochiel, a tall and splendid figure in coat and trews of tartan, head and shoulders above all but James, with the piercing eye of the Highlander and hair tied back in a stiff queue with a white ribbon.

“Now, gentlemen!”

Sir Alexander stood and addressed them all. “We are all assembled, I think? James, is anyone else expected?”

“All are here, Father.”

Robert turned to Glengarry.

“Whom are we brought here to see? What more do you know of all this?”

“Nothing, save the summons and the badge that came with it. As for the reason, I'd not be surprised to see Prince Charles himself come through the door!”

“Hugh, bring in our guest!”

They were prepared for anything, but the man who walked in and shook hands with their host was an anticlimax. He was certainly not the twenty-four-year-old heir to the throne of Scotland, but a lean, tall man of fifty years, with a pale, aristocratic face and light green eyes that travelled swiftly over them all without a flicker.

“May I present to you Sir John O'Reilly, emissary from His Royal Highness Prince Charles Edward!”

The stranger was introduced to them one by one, and when he came to Robert he shook hands with him and said quietly: “Fraser of Clandara. It is a noble name. Your grandfather did great service to the King.”

Robert bowed without answering. There were always men like O'Reilly in the courts of exiled kings; mercenaries without home or fortune, driven from their native Ireland by English strictures and persecution and ready to serve anyone who might unseat their enemy in London and restore them to their lands and titles. There were many Irish in the entourage of the King in Rome; tutors to the young princes, military advisers, adventurers of every kind. This fanatical aristocrat was one of these, sent on to rouse the Prince's countrymen to war on his behalf.

“You have all received a summons,” Sir John O'Reilly said. “And you must know from whom. But first, before I make my mission clear, I ask that all of you will take an oath of secrecy.”

Each man drew his dirk according to the custom and kissed it as he gave his oath.

“Swear that you will keep every word spoken in this room a secret until such time as it is publicly proclaimed!”

“On pain of dishonour and eternal damnation, we swear! May we be stabbed by this same dirk if we dishonour our oath!”

“And now,” the Irishman said, “I will deliver my message. I come to bring you this!”

It was no ordinary crucifix he held up before them, but a cross made of two sticks bound with white cloth, and when they saw it there was a murmur and a stir among the men assembled there.

It was the cross of war; the cross which each chief lit and then extinguished, the fiery cross which was carried from man to man across the glens, summoning the clansmen to arms. “The moment of delivery has come,” Sir John continued. “The hour for which you and all loyal subjects of the rightful King have waited for thirty years has struck again for Scotland. Gentlemen, the Prince landed at Eriskay four days ago! I have come from there myself.”

“In Scotland! Good God, man …”

“The Prince himself … Glengarry, did you hear that, the Prince is here among his own!” That was old Keppoch, his face suffused, his eyes alight and filling with tears.

“Aye, here among us,” Alexander Macdonald shouted. “Speak up, SirJohn; tell us his message.”

“Quiet, quiet, if you please. First let me tell you that the Prince came here by ship from France. That ship is now anchored in Loch nan Uamh, where His Royal Highness is receiving other chieftains.”

The Macgregor spoke up then.

“What troops has he brought with him?”

The pale eyes glittered at him and there was a note of contempt as O'Reilly replied.

“If you are hoping for a French army, sir, then I must disappoint you. There are no troops. France would not help him. The Prince has returned to Scotland with seven men. That's all.”

There was a moment when no one spoke then, and at last Robert broke in upon the silence.

“What arms and ammunition, then?”

“Hardly enough to equip a hundred men,” the answer came. “There is nothing aboard but the Prince and seven others. There is no money, no stores, no foreign troops. There is only the Prince. So great is his trust in all of you,” he added.

“In that case,” the Glengarry said, “the enterprise is madness. Without men and money, there is not a hope for the Prince or for anyone who joins him. For the love of God, sir, persuade him to go home!”

“The Macdonald of Sleat used those same words to him, and do you know the Prince's answer? ‘Thank you, but I am
come
home!'”

“Well spoken!”

James stood out in front of them all, ranging himself beside the Irishman. His eyes were blazing.

“God's life and death, look at you all, standing there with your mouths open like a lot of shivering women, bleating about foreign troops and foreign money! Is he or is he not the Prince of Scotland? What man among all of you here can quibble about guns and silver and a lot of mercenaries when our own prince is landed and waiting for our help!”

He swung round to O'Reilly and drew his broadsword.

“Give back my answer to the Prince,” he shouted. “If no other man in the Highlands will draw his sword for him I will, and I'm ready to die for him!”

“And I, by God, and all of mine to the last man!” That was Macdonald of Keppoch's cry, and at once every man in the room was shouting and swearing allegiance, including Glengarry who had tried to withdraw a moment before.