When Fate Dictates (27 page)

“Sorry, Corran, I don’t mean to. Are you both
alright?”

I frowned, thinking sadly that it would be a
long time before Eilidh would be alright again. “Aye, we are fine,
where is Duncan?”

“I don’t know exactly but I expect he is on
his way back to the house with Thomas,” he replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Angus could
be outside this minute, watching us.”

“No Corran, he is not here now but that
doesn’t mean he won’t come back. We are leaving here now and Eilidh
is coming with us.”

“How can you be so sure he has gone?”

“Because I stabbed him, in the shoulder with
my dirk and he made a run for it. Bloody man didn’t even have the
decency to give the knife back to me before he ran off like a
frightened child.”

The sound of the door opening again caused us
all to cast a wary glance in its direction, but it was only Duncan
with Thomas.

“Simon, whatever is the matter?” Thomas asked
as Duncan ushered him into the kitchen.

“Sit down my good friend I have something I
must tell you.”

“Eilidh’s parents are both dead. It was the
Red Coats, but they came for me, not Connor and Shonagh. Corran and
I need to leave here, now. I have left the papers in the office,
signing the farm over to you and Miriam.”

“Don’t go Simon, we can fight this together,”
objected Thomas.

“No, my friend, I must go.” Simon held his
hand out. “Here, take the key to the office. Give us until midnight
and what I leave is yours. Take care of it Thomas and take care of
yourself and Miriam,” he said, patting his old friend
affectionately on the back.

“And you Simon. Wherever it is you are going,
I bid you a safe journey.”

Once Thomas had left the room Simon turned to
Duncan. “Son, today you grow up. Gather the strongest four horses
and saddle them, hitch two of them to the cart and bing it up to
the house. I will meet you outside. Corran and Eilidh, we don’t
have much time. Pack up some crates with what you think we will
need and arrange some food and drink.” Turning to face me he took
my hand in his. “Corran, I am sorry. Sorry for wanting to take you
into war, sorry for nearly destroying our family and sorry that it
is my blood that has brought this trouble to our door.”

I squeezed his hand in mine. “It doesn’t
matter my love. All that matters now is that we get away before he
finds us again. Eilidh and I will be ready.”

******

“Simon, where are we going?” I whispered as
he helped me onto the cart.

“I honestly don’t know, Corran. We need to
get out of Scotland but I am not sure which way General Mackintosh
has gone. The border will be crawling with soldiers. When the
general was here, he couldn’t make up his mind whether to head into
England or back to Edinburgh. If I am not careful we will end up in
the middle of the rebellion. I think we should head toward Berwick
and cross the border around there.”

“Where do you think Angus is?”

“He won’t be far, Corran, and he will follow
us, but I am prepared, don’t worry.”

“You know if I had a penny for every time you
had told me not to worry I would be a very wealthy woman right
now.”

I felt more than saw his smile, as he reached
up to the cart and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

“Keep safe wee Corran,” he said, laying a
pistol on my lap. “Come on Duncan,” he called, handing his son
another pistol. “On your horse, lad, it’s time to get these ladies
safely out of here.”

“You alright Eilidh?” I asked, glancing
across at the shadowy figure of the girl sitting next to me in the
cart.

“Aye, Mrs. Lamont.”

“Eilidh, do me a favor?” I asked. “Please
stop calling me Mrs. Lamont?”

“Sorry.”

“No, lass, don’t be sorry. It’s just that you
are not a little girl anymore. I would like to be your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lamont... I mean Corran,”
she said. “I would like very much to be your friend too.” With that
I clicked the reins and the horses pulled us gently forwards, down
the hill beside our home and out onto the open road. Simon moved
his horse behind the cart and Duncan set out in front of us. We
kept our pace steady and calm but all four of us knew he was out
there, somewhere in the darkness of the night, just waiting and
watching. We did not stop until we were well clear of Berwick and
then, it was only to rest the horses. Tiredness pulled at my eyes
and I rubbed my forehead in an effort to ward off sleep.

“Corran, it might help if you eat something,”
said Eilidh, handing me a stick of dried meat.

“Thank you sweet, but I am not hungry. I am
sure Simon and Duncan won’t say no. Let them have it.”

“Did I hear the mention of food?” said
Duncan, moving swiftly toward Eilidh. I smiled to myself, thinking
that some things never changed.

Simon came up behind me and put his arms
around my waist. “You alright lass?”

“Aye,” I said, simply.

“Have you had something to eat?”

“No, I am not hungry. Where the bloody hell
is he, Simon?” I asked, staring at the road ahead.

“I don’t know, Corran, but he will come back,
of that I am certain.”

I watched as our son and Eilidh shared a
flask of whisky, his red hair sparkling in the sunshine.

“Do you see it Simon?” I asked.

“Aye, Corran, I do now,” he replied. “Thank
God he has taken after his grandfather and not his father.”

“Are we going to tell him?”

“Aye, I think we should,” he said.

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight,” he finished, moving his arms from
around my waist. “Come on, we need to get moving.”

That night we set up camp on the side of the
road. Simon and Duncan had a small, warming fire going in no time
and Eilidh and I set about rationing the food we had brought with
us. I settled next to Simon, on a rock near the fire, and watched
as the flames hungrily fed off a piece of wood.

“Mr. Simon, how can we sleep when we don’t
know if that man is going to come for us?” Eilidh asked.

“Don’t worry Eilidh. Me and pa and are going
to take turns sleeping. We won’t let any harm come to you or
ma.”

I smiled across at my son, so grown up and
unafraid. I hated what we had to tell him but he had the right to
the knowledge.

“Duncan,” said his father. “There is
something I need to explain to you.”

The boy looked across the flames of the fire
at his father, his eyes suddenly serious.

“What pa? What is wrong?”

I held out my hand to Simon and he took it,
squeezing it gently for strength.

“How much do you recall from when you were
shot?”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t
know really. It is all a bit of blur. One minute I was looking at
the back of the man with red hair and then I saw his face, very
briefly, before the shot hit me and I fell to the floor. I had a
dream though,” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair. “That a
great highland stag with silver antlers was at my side. It nudged
me gently and encouraged me to wake. But that is really all I
recall.”

“Duncan, you know you were born in York?”

“Aye, so you have told me, pa.”

“Well what your Mother and I have not told
you is that we found you, as a tiny baby, only a few hours old, in
a basket on the banks of a river in York.” Simon paused, eyes fixed
on our son.

“Duncan, you were a precious gift from God to
us, but when we found you, we thought for sure you would die.
Somehow, you didn’t,” I said, moving my eyes across to meet the
boy. “The thing is Duncan; you were named after Simon’s uncle,
because right from those first, precious moments of life, Simon
knew you were his blood.”

“Although it has taken me nineteen years to
admit it,” Simon interrupted.

“Your real father is the red-haired man who
shot you in our kitchen. He is also Simon’s brother,” I
finished.

“The stag you saw when he shot you is what
saved you as a baby. It has saved your mother and me and it would
seem, your blood father too. What you must know Duncan, is that it
can’t save you twice from your first death, and I think for you
that was, starvation. For your mother, it was freezing and for me
it was the wound of a bullet. For the man who is your blood father,
it was a blade of knife,” Simon finished.

“That’s right boy. It was the cut across my
throat that took my first life.”

Slowly out of the shadows of the trees,
walked Angus, his pistol trained on Simon.

“So there we have it, Simon. When I pull this
trigger you will die forever,” he paused, scanning the circle of
people around the fire. “But,” he shouted theatrically, “we
wouldn’t want to end the fun so soon.”

I moved my eyes toward Simon and caught the
sleight of his hand as it slid to his side, where I knew he had a
dirk.

“So, the woman is immortal too? Well that
explains a few things, but doesn’t concern me right now.”

“Leave my family out of this Angus. It is me
you want, not them.”

“Oh, but that is where you are wrong little
brother... if I heard right, then you have my son.”

“You may have fathered him, Angus, but he is
nothing like you!” shouted Simon as he edged his way toward the
man.

“He seems to have inherited my ability to
live, but then our father gave you that curse as well. Did you know
it was a family curse, Simon?”

“I remember the stories that Duncan told us
both, if that is what you mean but I hardly see how the highland
stag’s gift of immortality can be seen as a curse?”

“Aye, you recall that pretty little tale of
the stag and its ‘gift’ of immortality to Highland families, but
what about the curse little brother, what about the catch?”

“I take it you are talking about the legend
that says the stag can only save one generation in a bloodline at a
time?” growled Simon.

“Aye, little brother, and that is why you and
the boy must die.”

“So that you can reclaim your immortality?
You are a sick man, sick,” snarled Simon.

“Sick or not, Simon, I intend to live forever
and I can’t do that while you and the boy live.”

“Then why did you shoot me in York, if you
knew you would lose your immortality as soon as I called on the
stag?”

“Well you see, Simon I had to do it to know
the manner of your first death, so that I could use it again to
finish you for good.” But what I could not be certain of, until I
overheard your cozy little chat, was whether I had got to you
first.”

“Aye and you didn’t know of Duncan either,”
Simon whispered.

“No, little brother, that I didn’t. A small
complication, but now I know the manner of his first death I can
finish you off and deal with the boy later. The final prize will be
mine, Simon, all mine.”

Suddenly I understood. Angus was no longer
able to call on the stag, which meant the man could die, just like
any other. My mind whirled in frantic calculation. I knew what I
had to do. Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the two men, I reached
for the pistol on the floor beside me.

I screamed as the sound of a fired gun echoed
in the air around me; I smelled the musky smoke of the powder and
watched as the man with the red hair fell heavily backwards.
Slowly, as though in a dreamy haze I turned to see my son holding
the fired pistol. Simon turned and slowly walked toward his
son.

“Give me the pistol, son,” he said, holding
his hand out, palm side up. “Come on boy, let it go,” he whispered,
laying his hand over the curve of the barrel. Gently he removed the
weapon from Duncan and strode purposefully toward the lifeless form
of his brother. He towered over the body, staring down at the
bloodied mess.

“He isn’t dead,” he said, eventually.

“What do you mean he isn’t dead?” I
questioned desperately. “He isn’t immortal anymore, he must be
dead.”

“No, but wee Duncan isn’t much of a
shot.”

“Finish it Simon,” I yelled, “Get rid of
him.”

He shook his head, slowly. “No, Corran, I
won’t shoot a man who is defenseless.”

“Dear God, Simon, if you don’t shoot him now
he will come back for us, and next time it could be you or Duncan
lying dead.”

“The wound may yet kill him, Corran, but I
won’t shoot him in cold blood.”

“So you don’t mind the fact that he will come
looking for you again then?” I snapped.

“Oh, aye, I mind very much, but not so much
as I would mind killing the man when he can’t defend himself. I
will fight him fair and square but I won’t take his life whilst he
is down.”

“Well what do we do now then?” I spat. “Sit
here and nurse him back to health so you can have a fair fight with
the man?”

“No, we leave him and hope the wound kills
him. Smother the fire Duncan and saddle the horses. Corran and
Eilidh pack up the camp, we must leave now.”

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my skirt
and felt the cold sharp blade of my dirk. Absently I wandered
toward the injured man, kneeling beside him. My finger ran along
the hard steel edge and I felt the sticky damp of my blood as it
seeped from the cut. I stared into his unconscious face, and then
let my eyes wander across the blackened mess of his arm. I could
end it all with one simple slice of the blade.

“Don’t do it Corran.” I lifted my head to see
Simon standing across from me.

“If you won’t kill him, Simon, then I will,
because I can’t live with the fear of him finding us.”

“If you do, Corran, then your cross will be a
lot heavier. Fear you can fight, but guilt is a terrible thing to
live with.”

He moved beside me and bending toward me put
his arms gently around my waist. “Come, Corran, leave him,” he
coaxed, guiding me toward the cart.

“Damn you Simon,” I growled.

“Eilidh, take the reins, we must go before
someone stumbles upon this mess. Angus is still a soldier of the
British King and I don’t really want to be explaining what he is
doing in this sorry state.”