Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:
- Tràth Sa Mhadainn (trah sah vah-deyn) - early in the morning
- Magairlean brothach (mah-ger-lehn bro-hoh) - itchy bollocks
- Eairdsidh à Sealladh (Archie ah sheh-luhg) - Archie the Vanished
- Pìob-mhòr (peeb voor) - great Highland bagpipes
- Gluais do ghoirtag (gloo-ush doh gorsh-tahg) - Move your arse
- Deiseil le cridhe is làmh (gee-shihl ley cree ihs lahv) - Ready with heart and hand
15 August, 1745
The Highlands, Scotland
As we travelled further away from Beaufort Castle, the numbers of our men dwindled. There were many who weren't exactly thrilled with being ordered to go and fight in a war when they would rather have been home tending to their farms and with their families, and those were the ones that disappeared first. We did try to send Young Simon to go and convince them to return by promising land, and for some, it did work, but for others… Unfortunately, it just wasn't enough for them to fight for.
"A part of me thinks yer grandsire planned it that way," I said to Jamie as we made camp. "The only ones desertin' are those brought by Lovat."
"Wouldnae surprise me," Jamie replied. "What I do ken fer sure is Lovat kept his best men in Beauly, so we'll have our work cut out fer us."
"Are ye plannin' on trainin' them?" I asked. "They're farmers. They'll no' stand a chance if they run in terror at the sound of the first gunshot."
"Wouldnae be a bad idea te maybe stop in Kingussie fer a while and get a couple weeks' trainin' in," Jamie replied. "Maybe ye could teach them archery."
"What, me? Ye think they'll listen te me?"
"They might, if ye scare 'em badly enough," Jamie replied with amusement.
"Suppose we'll have te see how many we even have left," I replied, sitting down on the log beside him and letting out a sigh. "Christ, I didnae ken how similar this time was te my own when it comes te war. At the start of the rebellion, almost no one was skilled enough fer fightin', myself included. I was all right with a bow, but no' amazin'. Not as good as I am now, and I'd never picked up a sword or a dirk in all my life. And then my family was killed and with them, my way of life, and… I got turned into a warrior."
"Ye had a reason te fight. These men… Their reasons arenae as strong as yers," Jamie told me.
"If only they kent what was comin', what will likely happen te their land and their families… They'd fight then," I said, and then I let out a sigh. "We never find the reason te fight until it's too late… Until we've lost somethin' that cannae be replaced. Then we're not fightin' te preserve what we have, we're fightin' te protect what someday will be." I glanced over at Archie, who was fast asleep in a little nest made from my tartan. "We fight fer him… Fer Young Jamie, Maggie, Kitty… Fer all the children of this generation, hopin' that they may never ken what it was like te be treated as subhuman by the English."
"We fight fer us, too. Mostly fer him, aye, but we're also fightin' te preserve what we have. I ken I'm fightin' te keep ye safe," Jamie told me.
"It's great tha' ye ken tha," I said, and then I looked out over the camp at the other men, "but they dinnae ken that. They dinnae ken they're fightin' te preserve Highland culture."
16 August, 1745
Kingussie, The Highlands, Scotland
After nearly a full day of travelling, we finally arrived at Kingussie, where the small camp set up by the men from Lallybroch stood, plus the camp from Clan Chattan. Emerging from a tent, Cailean called out to Murtagh and the two of them met us at the front. "Murtagh!" Jamie exclaimed happily while Cailean came to my side to take Archie for me.
"Hello, mo ghille ! Did ye miss yer uncle?" he said to Archie, who simply giggled and clapped his little hands together.
"Pardon me if I forego the wee jig that I had planned in honour of yer arrival," Murtagh told us mildly bitterly. "I wouldae been gey pleased te foot it out five days ago."
"Aye, it took us longer te come through Corrieyairack than I had ferseen. Lots of English, and a lot of cattle. Made me long fer the days of raidin' cattle," Jamie said, exchanging a glance with Cailean.
"Damn, and I missed that?" Cailean asked, earning a playful shove from me.
"The last thing ye need is cattle te raid," I told him. We then turned to look at the men we'd brought from Beauly, who were a bit worse for wear, but still with us.
"I didnae think ye could talk that auld bastard out of a loaf of bread, let alone men," Murtagh said with amusement.
"Ye can thank Catrìona fer scarin' the breeks off of him by holdin' fire in her hand," Jamie replied, causing Murtagh and Cailean both to stare at me wide-eyed.
"Even in our time, I dinnae ken how ye'd do that," Cailean told me.
"Magic," I replied, then turned my attention back to the men. "It sure would take a load of magic te whip this lot into shape."
"Aye, they're no' much te look at, but we'll figure it out," Jamie chimed in. "Lovat kept his best men in Beauly."
"Selfish prick," Murtagh replied.
"Tha's the understatement of the century," I said with sarcasm. "Ye'll need te keep watch. Maybe the lads Young Simon recruited would be good."
"Aye, some thirty-odd tried te desert as we approached Kingussie," Jamie said.
"We'll employ Cailean te scare the shit out of them," I said. "The heir te the Laird of Cìosamul may strike the fear of God into them."
"I think you'd be a better choice, Catrìona. They've heard of yer fiery show and already are scairt of ye. And bein' a Fowlis of Barra doesnae help tha' much," Jamie told me, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Wee Simon's gone back te fetch a few."
"The Younger's with us?" Murtagh asked with surprise.
"Aye, though no' with his father's blessin'. Lovat remains neutral," Jamie told him.
" Tha's the weasel I ken," Murtagh replied.
"Suppose I'll go and greet the men," Cailean said, handing Archie back to me.
" Tiugainn , Catrìona. I'd like te set up the tent fer you and Archie," Jamie told me suddenly, taking my upper arm and leading Archie and I away.
"Why the rush?" I asked him curiously, noticing his cheeks were a little pink.
"Er… My bollocks itch," he said, stopping me in my tracks.
"I beg yer pardon?" I asked him. "Yer bollocks itch?"
" Ist ! Do ye want the entire army te hear?" Jamie hissed at me, and I let out a laugh.
"Nits in yer crotch, aye? Well, let's get that tent up and I'll take care of it," I told him, teasing him, and he let out a low growl before turning back around.
"Milord! Milady!" a childish French accent came from behind us, and just as I turned, Fergus crashed right into me, nearly knocking me off of my feet.
"Fergus!" I exclaimed. "Easy, a leannan ! I'll recover fine from a fall, but Archie may no' forgive ye."
"Oi, lad!" we heard Murtagh call, and I could see Jamie visibly huff in exasperation. "Come and help me wi' collectin' wood!"
"Please help me, Milady. It is horrible with Murtagh! He is forcing me to mend his socks and fetch his meals!" poor Fergus exclaimed, causing me to glance up at Murtagh.
"I'm just tryin' te educate the lad on the finer points of travellin' in the highlands," Murtagh defended himself, and I couldn't help but shake my head and chuckle.
"Why don't ye take Archie with ye? I'm sure he'd love te go fer a tramp in the woods," I said, handing Archie off to Fergus, who had become a very good and protective big brother to Archie.
"Come, laddie," Murtagh said again, and Fergus gave us one last look begging us to save him from Murtagh's grasp before following him with Archie in his arms.
"Right, come along, magairlean brothach ," I said to my husband, who sent me a glare as we went to claim our campsite.
Once we'd had our tent up, I confined Jamie to the tent, instructing him to keep his bollocks from touching any of the sheets and blankets and taking his shirt, kilt and breeks to boil. I entered the tent after checking on his clothes to find him sitting naked on the grass scratching his balls. "Jamie! I told ye no' te scratch!" I scolded him. "And dinnae touch yer hair, either, or ye'll lose that, too." I took his hands and doused them in whisky from my flask, then set them aside.
"What do ye mean, lose my hair?" he asked me right as I pulled an old cut-throat razor out of my medical bag, and his eyes widened. "What the hell are ye doin' with that?"
"Best way te get nits out is te shave yer hair," I told him.
"No! Ye are not gettin' near my balls with that!" Jamie cried like a child.
"Jamie, I'm verra skilled with sharp objects. Dinnae fash, I'll make sure yer balls and yer cock stay intact, but I'll no' have ye in my bed until that infested hair is gone," I told him firmly. That seemed to be enough to get him to calm down enough to stop recoiling from me.
"But men dinnae shave their bushes. I'll be made a fool," he whined.
"Ye'll look a greater fool fer scratchin' yer balls all day," I told him. "Dinnae fash, mo chridhe, speakin' from experience, it'll grow back fast."
"Men," Jamie said sometime later in his clean kilt and his hairless balls beneath it. "We're te stay and rest fer two days. Remember what it is we are doin' here. We are fightin' fer our land, fer our people, fer our families, fer our way of life… Everrathin' we hold dear te us. In two days' time, we'll leave here te meet Clan Chattan at Crieff. Dinnae try te desert again, or ye'll have my wife te deal with." He glanced at me as I stood nearby and the men seemed to shudder just a little at the sight of me. The Lallybroch men knew I was harmless, but the Lovat men feared me after my charade with the fire. Once the group broke up to return to their camps, Jamie approached me, a somewhat uncomfortable look on his face. "My bollocks are cold."
"Oh, ist , ye wee baby," I said, smacking him playfully on his arm. "I told ye once we'd finished, I'd let ye do whatever it is ye want with me."
"Aye, that offer is still on the table, is it?" he asked me, his hands snaking around my waist.
"I promised, didnae I? I do tend te keep my promises," I told him, giving him a kiss, and together, we stole away to our tent.
20 August, 1745
Crieff, The Highlands, Scotland
As the Frasers of Lovat and Broch Tuarach marched on Crieff, we were faced with the ever-pending attack from English soldiers. Once, we were met with a warning by an English sergeant, who dismissed us by mocking the men that marched with us. Other than that incident, we met with little resistance. We arrived at Crieff on the twentieth of August, and Jamie, Cailean and myself rode ahead to be greeted by one of the leaders of Clan Chattan, Seàrlas MacBean, who represented Clan MacBean. "Ye concerned us, Fraser," MacBean said to Jamie as we arrived. I couldn't help but wonder if this Seàrlas MacBean was the same one that I was a direct cousin of, but given the fact that he was a middle-aged man, I doubted it. "We thought ye'd backed out."
"Never!" Jamie replied as he climbed down his horse to greet MacBean. "We met with some resistance a couple of times, but otherwise, no trouble." He held out a hand for me to approach. "This is my wife, Catrìona Fraser."
"A pleasure, Mistress," said MacBean, eyeing my tartan. "Fowlis of Barra, are ye?"
"My brother and I both," I said as I referred to Cailean, who nodded at MacBean from his horse.
"Cailean Fowlis, sir," Cailean introduced himself.
"I'm pleased te meet ye. Yer the ones everraone says are the children of Eairdsidh à Sealladh, aye?" MacBean asked us, referring to my father as 'Archie the Vanished'.
"Tha' we are," Cailean replied.
"My brother married yer aunt," said MacBean, confirming my suspicions that this man was somehow related to my cousin.
"Ah, so I'd thought! I understand I've a cousin also called Seàrlas," I said, then found myself surprised as we were joined by a very tall man with dark brown hair.
"Captain, there is correspondence from the prince," said this behemoth of a man in a deep booming voice.
"Thank ye, Major. I'll be there in a moment. Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, might I introduce Major Gillies Mòr MacBean?" MacBean said to us as even Jamie glanced upwards at the very tall man.
"Pleased te make yer acquaintance," he said, bowing to us both.
"I'll bet ye get a lot of comments about yer tall height, aye?" I couldn't help but ask.
"No more than you likely do, Mistress. Ye are verra tall fer a woman," said Gillies MacBean.
"Touché," I replied.
"So," Jamie said, changing the tide of the conversation. "We've a need te train these men. We cannae bring them te the prince as farmers."
"Aye, I ken. My men arenae equipped for battle at all," MacBean replied. "I see ye've managed te convince the Auld Fox te send some men."
"The worse of his men, but aye," Jamie agreed. "They're in need of discipline, and I have hope tha' we can spend a few weeks trainin' 'em before we march on te Prestonpans."
"A wonderful idea. I should like to discuss plans with ye. Fer now, I must see what his Royal Highness has sent te me," said MacBean. The two MacBeans - the leader and the absolute mammoth of a man - left us.
"Suppose we should dismiss the men te camp," said Cailean, and he turned to return to the men.
"Have ye a plan fer trainin'?" I asked my husband.
"Train them te hold a sword would be a start," he replied.
"Aye, we had te go through that trainin' too, no' that I'm big enough te hold a sword," I told him. "In my time, much like they do after Culloden, the English took all our weapons away, the ones we used against them in the first rebellion. They left the ones in the museums thinkin' we couldnae use them, then set up a blockade when the second rebellion started so we couldnae rely on our allies. Swords from museums and the like were all we had."
"Hm," Jamie replied. "Is that why yer so skilled with a bow?"
"Partially. I'm good at hand-te-hand combat as well, ye ken from personal experience," I reminded him.
"I think ye should train the men in archery," he replied, ignoring the statement.
"Aye, ye said that before. Ye still think it's a good idea?" I couldn't help but ask.
"We may no' stand any chance otherwise," he told me. Given the fact that the English eventually learned that Scots, during a highland charge, raised their sword-bearing arm, revealing a place to be penetrated by bayonets, having archers in our army didn't seem like a bad idea. Getting those men to be willing to learn from a woman, however… That was a challenge that sounded quite fun to me.
21 August, 1745
"Perhaps I can have a word with the other ladies, get them te make more bannocks," I was saying to Jamie as we crossed the camp together. "They'll need them, if they're trainin' as intensely as ye say."
"A sound plan," Jamie replied. "I want ye te start trainin' them in archery in a few days."
"I need te train the ladies in nursin', too. Archers will be useful on a battlefield, but nurses are the ones who will help us maintain our numbers," I told him.
"Aye, I agree," Jamie said, stopping and turning to face me. "The battle tha's upcomin'… When did ye say it was?"
"The twenty-first of September," I told him quietly.
"Then we have four weeks exactly te whip these men into shape, not te mention we're expected by the prince te be there by the fifteenth, accordin' te MacBean," he replied.
"So three weeks," I said. "We can do it, Jamie. We've done the impossible before, we'll do it again."
"I hope yer right," he told me, then he bent to kiss me. "I dinnae ken where I'd be if I didnae have ye by my side."
I was about to reply, but found myself interrupted by a loud, shrill whistle and a gruff voice calling, "Mistress Catrìona!" Jamie and I both turned our attention to the source of the noise to find two familiar and cheerful faces approaching us.
"Blessed Bride! Now, there's a face I didnae ken if I'd ever see again!" I exclaimed as Angus Mhor and Rupert Mackenzie approached us.
"Mistress, I washed my mouth out with whisky in preparation fer a big buss from you!" Angus told me cheerfully as I approached him to embrace him. I went to kiss his cheek instead, but he turned his head in time to catch my lips.
"Och!" I exclaimed, giving him a shove off of me. "I see some things never change."
"It's been long ower, Catrìona," said Rupert cheerfully as I approached him for a hug.
"Aye, it has, Rupert. It has," I said, hearing Jamie greet Angus behind me.
"How are those wee laddies?" Rupert asked, noticing how my face fell just a little. "Oh… I'm sorry, lass."
"We… we lost one of them last June… But Archie is still verra healthy. He's with my brother, cannae get enough of him," I told him. "So… Where's Willie?"
"Oh, the lad went and got himself married!" Angus exclaimed.
"To an Irish lass," Rupert continued. "Sailed off te America with the bride's family."
"Aye, we'll no' mention that traitorous bastard's name!" Angus exclaimed, resulting in a laugh from myself and Jamie.
"Ye ken, marriage could do ye all some good," another familiarly gruff voice said - Dougal. "Have ye no welcome fer yer beloved uncle?" he asked Jamie.
"Dougal!" Jamie said, leaving our group to approach his uncle and embrace him.
"Ye look well, lad. Despite the misfortunes ye've suffered. I heard about the wee laddie," Dougal told him, and Jamie gave a subtle nod.
"Aye… I've never felt more fit," he said to his uncle.
"And Lady Broch Tuarach," said Dougal next to me. "A vision of true loveliness. Last I saw ye, yer belly was swollen te the size of a pumpkin."
"Had the lads not long after our last meeting," I told him, allowing him to take my hand and plant a polite kiss on it. "It wouldnae be the Jacobite uprisin' without ye, Dougal."
"I should like te meet my great nephew," he said to me.
"So, has Colum changed his mind, then?" Jamie asked, interrupting the moment. "Will Clan Mackenzie join the cause?"
"My brother's mind is his own. It is no concern of mine," Dougal replied. "We're here te pledge our hearts and swords te the glorious cause. I'd have joined the Prince's forces in Prestonpans had I not heard my own nephew was leading Clan Fraser te him."
"Just the three of ye?" Jamie asked, acknowledging the three Mackenzie clansmen who were alone with no others.
"Ye didnae question their strength in numbers when they stormed Wentworth Prison in the verra teeth of over two hundred redcoats," Dougal told his nephew. "Or should I say, yer wife didnae question?"
"It was four hundred, actually," Rupert chimed in.
"More likely five hundred," said Angus, who lived to exaggerate everything.
"When I heard ye'd joined the Jacobite cause, I was so proud," said Dougal, ignoring his men. "It was as if my own son was takin' his first steps as a man. Now, I ken we've had our differences in the past, but I've been waitin' fer the day we would fight together on the same side. It's our time… Fer glory and fer Scotland." Jamie smiled at his uncle, seemingly touched by the sentiment, but I couldn't help but smell a rotting fish.
"Then I welcome yer heart," Jamie told him. "And yer swords! And yer skills as Highland warriors. Yer sorely needed, all of ye. My men are in desperate need of trainin', and Seàrlas MacBean, who's leadin' the MacBean division of Clan Chattan, agrees that his men are in need of it as well."
"Should be simple enough. Where's the rest of Chattan?" Dougal asked, noticing that the camp was smaller than he would have expected for all the smaller clans that made up Clan Chattan to be represented.
"Gone on te Prestonpans. Only MacBean stayed behind te wait fer us," Jamie told him.
"Ah, te be expected of a clan made up of other clans," Dougal replied. "Well. Yer men have showed their worth just by joinin'." At this, I snorted.
"Most of them, save fer the Lallybroch men and some loyal friends of the young Master Lovat have joined. The others were forced by the Auld Fox," I said to him. "We've had trouble keepin' them."
"Lovat's son is here?" Dougal asked. "Either way, their hearts are larger and stronger than ten redcoats."
"Maybe so fer some, but they're no' ready fer combat," Jamie told his uncle.
"We'll have plenty of time te teach them that on the march te Prestonpns," Dougal told him.
"That would be great, if they actually marched," I said. "They walk, stroll, and caper aboot. There is no marchin' involved. They're no disciplined. These men are farmers, no' soldiers."
"Aye, and we cannae deliver them te the prince in such a condition," Jamie told Dougal. "They'll need te learn not only how te march, but how te fight before they join the prince's army. These men are cotters, tacksmen and smiths."
"Closest thing most of 'em has held te a weapon was a pitchfork. Most of them have never seen combat, let alone a fight. Maybe a bar fight or two in their day, but nothin' more," I told him. "This here is good land te train upon."
"What do you ken aboot good land te train upon?" Dougal asked me.
"More than you , evidently," I said.
"Catrìona is verra skilled with a bow. I've seen it myself. She'll be trainin' the men in archery," Jamie told his uncle. Dougal seemed unsettled about the idea of staying to train, having been eager to join the prince at Prestonpans.
"Yer mind's set, then?" he asked his nephew.
"Aye, 'tis. Catrìona's brother is workin' out drills fer the men te follow in the comin' days. We'll make a fine group of Highland soldiers. There's no time te waste," Jamie told his uncle.
In the days that followed, we began to drill the men. I certainly won't say it was easy, but it was mildly entertaining to watch Murtagh try to whip the men into shape. "James Fraser and Cailean Fowlis taught me these drills themselves, and believe me, I'm goin' te teach them te you, and yer goin' te learn them," Murtagh said to one group of Fraser men. Beside him, Cailean stood with a pìob-mhòr , or great Highland bagpipe, blowing air into it, producing the continuous squeal that Murtagh had to shout over. "Now! When ye hear this, yer te form two lines directly next te each other!" He then looked at Cailean, who took his cue to play a ceol mor , a form of music meant for marching, for great tunes, for telling the story of history through music, and other formal settings. "Put yer toes there! Line. Get in line!" He entered into the lines and gave one of the men a shove. "Get in line! Kincaid, move yer arse! Gluais do ghiortag! "
"Is Murtagh makin' headway?" Jamie's voice beside me suddenly said, and I accepted a kiss on my cheek from him as I watched Murtagh.
"No' really," I said. "He's a bit harsh, do ye no' think?"
"Do ye think the enemy's goin' fouter away waitin' fer ye te gather?" Murtagh demanded of them harshly.
"And when do we get proper weapons?" one of the men, who was holding a tree branch with leaves still attached to the end of it, asked him.
"First, ye get yer arse into line and learn where te stand. Then ye'll learn how te move," Murtagh answered him. One of the men seemed to chuckle when another whispered something to him, and Murtagh sent him a filthy look. "What are you laughin' at, ye bastard?"
"Can't ye go and, I dinnae ken… talk to 'em?" I asked Jamie, looking up at him and realising he had Archie in his arms.
"Suppose I can," Jamie replied. " Seo , take the lad." I took Archie from him and kissed his face, settling him on my hip while Jamie climbed down the hill to reach the men, who were still chucking at Murtagh. "Foolishness and games," Jamie said when he arrived at the group, who instantly stopped laughing upon his arrival. "That's what yer thinkin', aye? No reason te strut and ponce aboot like the redcoats." That earned him a couple of chuckles. "We're Scotsmen, aye? Brave, strong, with God on our side… So why should we waste time with all this shite?"
"Aye!" one of the men from the group said.
"Aye, I was like that once. I had those verra same thoughts, wonderin' why I had te learn te march te the tune of a pipe or a whistle… Then the man te my left was mowed down by a stray musketball." That seemed to stop the laughter. "In France, I became a soldier. I saw firsthand what a modern, well-trained army can do, and how they survive. It's a pretty sight, aye. Seein' all the soldiers marchin' together, meetin' on opposite sides of a gorge or a field. Their neat rows and columns, music playin', banners wavin'… Then they fire the first volley. First, ye see the flash of metal in the sun. Then, together as one, the entire first line of men raise their muskets, aim, and let loose. The musket balls come tearin' across the field like a sheet of metal rain, cuttin' down men left and right - men ye trained with, camped with… All without mercy. The sound of gunfire is like rolling thunder across the hills, and by the time the last of it fades, the second volley is already on its way. I realised, then, tha' it takes more than courage te beat an army like that. It'll take discipline and a well-trained soldier. An army of well-trained soldiers. So if ye have the discipline te stand together, march together, fight together… then by God, I ken we'll win together."
It was a noble speech, and Jamie was very gifted at speaking. I stood proudly and watched as he addressed his men, the perfect choice to be a leader. Perhaps things could be different. Perhaps we could actually win this war…
But those were only false hopes brought on by a moment of pride.
25 August, 1744
Several days after training began, Jamie asked me to teach the men archery. Cailean had worked on carving out ten bows and a handful of arrows for the men to practice with until they could learn to make their own. The ten men we had selected to be archers - the skinniest or stoutest men of the Fraser clan - were standing by the targets that Cailean and I had made awaiting instructions as I arrived. "Mornin', lads," I said to them.
"We dinnae need any bannocks, thank ye kindly, Mistress," one of the men said to me.
"What makes ye think I'm bringin' ye bannocks?" I said to them, my hands on my hips. "Do ye ken somethin' I don't?"
"Then what are ye doin' here, lass? Cannae ye see we're busy?" another of the men said to me gruffly.
"The hell do ye think? I'm here te train ye in archery," I said. For a moment, the men stared at me in silence, then broke out into a cackling laughter.
"Train us ? In archery?" the gruff one said.
"Yer verra funny, lass! I see why the Laird likes ye," said another, this one from Lallybroch.
"Funny, am I?" I said. I then reached behind me to draw my folded bow from its pouch and snapped it open, then pushed through their group to line myself up at the first of the targets. I drew one arrow, loaded my bow, drew it and fired, hitting the target right in the center.
"She got lucky!" one of the men shouted.
"Did I?" I asked, and then I moved to the second target, firing an arrow right into the center of it. "And if tha's not enough, I can do it blindfolded." I lined myself up with the third target, then pulled out one of the bandages I kept on my person in case of injuries in training, then tied it around my eyes. I loaded my bow, aimed, and fired, and the surprised murmurs around me indicated that I had hit the target a third time.
"This is horse shite!" I heard one of the men shout, and I removed the blindfold to get a good look at whoever it was who had commented. He was standing beneath a tree in the shade, the trunk of the tree directly behind him.
"Ye've got until I aim my bow te apologise fer tha'," I told him.
"Apologise? Ha! Yer a woman, and I'll no' be wastin' my time bein' told what te do by a- AGH!" He let out a cry of shock as my arrow sailed through the air and stuck into the tree mere centimeters from the top of his head, piercing his cap and pinning it to the tree. While the other men stared in terror, I simply stuck my bow into the ground and leaned against it.
"Anyone else have anythin' te say?" I asked them.
"Er… No, M-Mistress," the first man that had spoken to me said.
"Good," I replied, going to the rack where other bows were located, picking one up and tossing it to him. "You first, then. Line up at the first target. If ye split my arrow, ye can go back te yer tent." The first man stood where I had at the first target, then clumsily loaded his bow, drew it, aimed it, and fired… striking the wooden post that the target was fastened to. "Well, at least ye stuck it in wood."
"Is your husband really allowing this?" one man, who evidently still felt the need to challenge me, said.
"He suggested it," I replied. "Now, one of the important things with archery is te keep yer hands steady. Chase yer arrow, see where ye hit and counteract it in yer aim. Ye hit above the target, so ye must aim lower. Line yer eye up with the wee hole. Our line of sight is the best we have, so ye have te get good at it. If ye have puir eyesight, ye'll make a terrible archer. Now, watch me carefully. Watch my form, see where I place my feet, watch my shoulders and how I hold the bow."
"Tha's easy when yer a sight fer sore eyes, lassie!" said one of the men, and a few others chuckled stupidly. Ignoring the remark, I positioned myself, loaded, aimed, and fired, sending my arrow to split the arrow on the post that the first man had fired. Lowering my bow, I turned to face the men.
"It takes skill te hit the target. It takes great skill te hit the center of the target. But te split an arrow, especially one that isnae even in the center of the target, let alone on the target itself… tha' takes mastery," I told them. "Dinnae question me again, or I willnae hesitate te fire one of these into yer bollocks." I didn't receive another vile comment for the entirety of their training. I would have liked to think it was because they respected me, but a more realistic explanation would be the respect they held for their bollocks and the fear of them actually being pierced by an arrow.
29 August, 1744
The men began to train with guns for the first time. They learned how to march well and stand in formation, so now the next thing was learning to use their weapons, which both Jamie and Cailean felt needed the most time to ensure the men wouldn't harm either themselves or others. Jamie, this time, was instructing the men with Murtagh faithfully by his side, while I took a brief pause in my duties to watch. "Place the rod back into the pipe," he was saying to the men.
"Keep a wide stance, these auld things have a huge kickback."
I looked around, wondering where the hell that new voice was coming from, but saw no one around me. Shaking it off, I looked back at Jamie, an excellent teacher for his men. "Keep it in the crick of yer shoulder. Aye, tha's good… Wait fer my command, MacLennan!" he was saying.
"Check yer range. These arenae exactly the most accurate weapons, but the English took away everrathing that was, so we'll have te make do."
"The hell?" I said out loud, looking around me again. I thought, for a moment, that I was hearing the voice of Commander Alexa MacLeod… She had a strong, firm, commandeering voice. I had never met anyone better fit to be a commander than Alexa MacLeod. We didn't get along very well at first, but we came to have a mutual respect for each other later on, even almost liked each other.
"Yer no' bad, Fowlis," she'd said to me after observing the archery division. "Ye look like ye've actually shot one of these before."
"I have," I told her. "My father taught me when I was young."
"Yer father was Captain Fowlis, aye? In the first rebellion?"
"Aye."
"Well… Perhaps it's no' such a bad thing we have ye with us now."
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if sleep deprivation was making me hear things. I looked up again at my husband, an eighteenth century Scottish highlander adorned in a wool jacket and a great kilt, his scabbard by his side carrying his sword. The highlanders of my time fought in uniforms, although they wore their kilts over them. "On my count. Ready? Aon, dà, trì… "
"Fire!" The whole line of us fired our weapons. She had been right - the kickback of these things was harsh. The old gun had kicked back and caught me in the chin, and MacLeod shook her head. "Ye'll not get verra far if ye cannae wield a weapon, Fowlis."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing I'll no' be fightin'. I've been recruited te medical trainin'," I told her.
"Good, I'll no' have te worry aboot ye holdin' us back," she told me. As she walked past me, I glanced at my brother, who stood beside me with his own weapon in hand.
"Cat?" he'd asked me. "Cat? Are ye all right?"
"Huh?" Suddenly, I was back in 1745, my brother actually standing beside me, and lightly shook my head. "Oh… Aye, I'm fine," I said. "Just… Just thinkin' aboot how little has changed when it comes te war."
"Oh, I ken," Cailean replied. "I was thinkin' that, too. All this trainin'… Cannae believe we're even usin' the same guns. I wonder if any of the muskets we used in our time saw action here."
"Hard te say," I answered, and I let out a sigh. "Lookin' at them all… Ross, Kincaid, MacLennan… Bein' trained and turned into soldiers. I think of us, those frightened young kids who lost everrathin', forced te put up a brave front."
"Ye were the brave one, Cat. Hell, ye still are ," Cailean told me. "But ye had te be. Ye had a little brother te care for, who looked up te ye… Who still looks up te ye."
"I dinnae ken how ye can. I fought so hard te stop this war from comin' and I failed. And now that it's here, I'm not sure I'm ready te go te war again," I told him.
"Ye dinnae have to," Cailean replied.
"Yes I do," I said. "They need me. Jamie needs me. The women who will nurse these men when they're injured… I cannae just go back home and pretend this isnae happenin'. No' when there's people I ken and love who could be here dyin'."
"I understand," Cailean told me. "Jamie's verra proud of what ye've accomplished. Neither of us think we'd be here if it werenae fer you."
"Well, I appreciate that," I said with a smile. Suddenly, we were both startled by the sound of screaming, and when we looked up, found a mud-caked and shirtless Dougal, Angus, Rupert, and a couple of the more aggressive Fraser of Lovat men charging down the hill towards the men Jamie was training wielding their swords. The men scattered and screamed as they ran away from the rather terrifying sight, and I watched as Jamie stood aside with a furious expression on his face. Dougal and his men were laughing hysterically at the frightened men that fled.
"Tha's how ye beat the redcoats, men! With a Highland charge!" Dougal exclaimed with his sword in the air. "Ye take them by surprise and put terror in their hearts!"
"Get back in line!" Murtagh shouted at the men, recollecting the frightened men.
"Was only the five of us! Aye, imagine a thousand of us, screamin', descendin' on the pretty redcoats all lined up in a row!" Dougal shouted.
"Dougal!" Jamie exclaimed, approaching him as Dougal continued his speech.
"They'll run like chickens!" Dougal exclaimed.
"Ye'd need surprise fer a charge te work, and I doubt we'll be tha' lucky," Jamie told him. "Dismissed, all of ye! Dougal, a word."
"He looks pished," Cailean said as Jamie pulled Dougal aside to have a quiet chat with him. "Cannae blame him. Dougal's a conceited, narcissistic arse. Cannae stand him."
"Did I ever tell ye he was tryin' te get me te marry him when Jamie was imprisoned?" I asked him, and this made him cock an eyebrow.
"Ye didnae. Does Jamie ken?"
"I never had the chance te tell him," I replied. "Perhaps I should."
"Aye, ye should! His uncle made a pass at his wife when he was still livin'!" Cailean replied. We glanced back at Jamie and Dougal. Dougal seemed quite upset with the conversation, but Jamie was holding firm. The conversation ended and Jamie glanced up at the two of us, then made his way towards us. "Trouble?"
"He says he kens best because he was teachin' men te fight while I was suckin' my mother's tit," Jamie replied, and Cailean snorted.
"What an arse," he replied. "I ken he's yer uncle, Jamie, but ye need te watch him carefully. He's the kind of man te step on yer toes."
"Bloody conceited bastard," I said as I looked down at the Mackenzie men.
"Right, well, I'm supposed te meet with MacBean te plan more trainin'. I'll catch ye both in a bit," Cailean said. He gave Jamie's shoulder a pat, then exchanged a glance with me before leaving.
"Are ye all right?" Jamie asked me suddenly. "Ye've been awfully quite the last few days."
"Just rememberin' my own trainin'," I told him. "Doesnae matter that there were four hundred years between yer trainin' and mine. It's all the same." I let out a sigh. "When ye were in Wentworth… Dougal was the one who told me ye were there. He… He kept tryin' te say ye were a dead man, kept callin' me a widow. Then he… He said tha' he would marry me. Claimed it was because ye would want me te be kept safe, but he and I both kent well it was because he wanted Lallybroch."
"Why did ye no' tell me?" Jamie asked.
"It slipped my mind. At the time, I was so focused on you and gettin' ye safe, then I had the lads… In Paris, I was so focused on Brian, I'd forgotten completely, and only remembered just now," I said. "I told him tha'… Tha' if ye were dead, then I would marry him. But ye werenae dead, so it doesnae matter."
"It matters to me," he told me. "He tried te take my wife and my land."
"And didnae succeed," I said. "I wouldnae have married him anyway. If ye were dead… I'd have fled. Hoped te never see him again. But ye werenae, and that's all that matters." He wasn't looking at me, but instead was standing there seething at his uncle, so I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Yer bollocks still cold?"
"They're itchin' again," he answered me. "Seems shavin' 'em was fer nothin'."
"It's just the hair growin' back in," I told him. "If ye'd like, I can make ye a salve, rub it on…"
"I'd much rather ye do somethin' else," he said, looking at me with a fresh hunger in his eyes. Fuelled by subtle jealousy, he reached for me and grabbed my arse firmly, then held me tightly against his chest and kissed me. "You are mine ," he said firmly, his voice laced with lust. "Seems I'll have te remind my uncle of that."
1 September, 1745
I was in the barn, where we had set up a makeshift hospital for me to train the wives of Clan MacBean - as I was the only woman among the Fraser men - in medicine when I heard the door open behind me. Thinking it was Jamie coming to fetch me for supper, I turned to find myself meeting Dougal's eyes instead. "What do ye want?" I asked him. "If ye've come te me te speak te Jamie, I'll no' hear ye."
"Not fer me," Dougal said. "Fer him."
"Since when is anythin' ye do fer anyone else but yerself?" I asked him, turning back around to continue rolling bandages.
"He's struggling. He needs help. But ye ken Jamie, he's too proud te ask," Dougal replied.
"He doesnae need help. He kens what he's doin', and trust me, it has nothin' te do with the fact that ye were trainin' men while he was nursin' from his mother's teat," I hissed at him.
"I can help him, Catrìona, and he'd realise that if he'd let me. That's why I need ye te speak te him," Dougal replied as if I hadn't spoken, and I couldn't help but scoff.
"I told ye, he doesnae need help, especially not yers" I said. "And why would I help you ? Ye've stepped on his toes more than once in his life. Ye think everraone needs yer help."
"I think he would benefit from my help, and I think he would listen if he kent aboot our agreement tha' we made at Glen Rowan Cross, but I'll wager ye never told him aboot tha', did ye?" Dougal asked me, and this time, I did turn to face him.
"Aye, he does. I share everrathing with my husband. We have no secrets from each other. He kens aboot yer offer, and he kens why I made the choice that I did," I said firmly. "But that agreeent is off. My husband is alive, no thanks te you."
"He took no issue with ye sayin' so?" Dougal asked me.
"None," I lied, but he'd never know. I kept my expression firm and my eyes trained on him. Jamie took great issue with it, so much so that he felt the need to stake his claim and take me where I was currently standing in the barn. I had to fight back the thought to keep myself from blushing as my hand brushed over the surface of the table, where the remnants of his issue with Dougal could likely be seen beneath a blacklight. He hadn't just taken me properly, he'd gotten down on his knees and- Not the time, Catrìona , I told myself.
"Then he's a better man than me," Dougal said calmly.
"Truer words have never been spoken. Jamie certainly would never seek comfort from the fiscal's wife," I reminded him, crossing my arms.
"I see that ye still bear a grudge," Dougal told me.
"She died because of what ye've done," I replied firmly.
"Geillis Duncan wanted me as much as I did her. We were happy."
"And where did that get ye both?" I asked him, causing him to freeze in silence. "Let me make one thing clear, Dougal Mackenzie. If I ever thought of ye, then I might have held a grudge fer all of the things ye've done te me, but I don't."
"And why is that?"
"Because yer no' worth the thought it takes te hold a grudge," I told him. "Ye have an affliction. Ye have an inability te be selfless because ye suffer from narcissism. If ye dinnae ken what that is, then allow me te explain. The term comes from Greek mythology. Narcissus was a man - a beautiful man - who fell in love with his own reflection. He loved it so much, he couldnae pull himself away, and he died of physical starvation, but he wasnae starved of his own face." He stared at me without emotion. "Yer ego and yer self-gratification drive yer desires. Ye had an affair with Geillis Duncan because ye kent she supported the Jacobites and was willin' te steal money from her husband fer ye. Yer a Jacobite because ye want King James on the throne but no' fer Scotland. Fer yer own selfishness . Ye want the king te reward ye with a title of yer own, or strip the title of Chief of Clan Mackenzie from yer brother and give it te you."
"Ye'd best be verra careful with yer words, lass," Dougal told me with a warning tone.
"Or what? What'll ye do with me? Ye ken, my brother never liked ye. He told me so himself, said he got a bad feelin' aboot ye when ye first met."
"Curious he could sense such a thing. But he is related te a ban-draoidh ."
"He is my mother's son, as I am her daughter," I told him. "Back te my point. Stop tryin' te convince everraone of yer patriotism. It's pathetic. I'm no' so sure ye'll grasp the meanin' of this, either, but I dinnae care. Go fuck yerself."
"Catrìona Fraser. What a rare woman ye are. Strong, bold… Everrathing like yer Grandsire. I kent him, ye ken. Durin' the '15, my father had no interest in fightin' the English, but I did, so I went off te the isles, where they were fightin' off the English warships that came. Yer grandsire was a fierce warrior on the sea, like the vikings he likely descends from. I didnae ken if ye were tellin' the truth when ye said ye were the child of his son, but now… Now, I see it. Ye truly are the granddaughter of Eairdsidh Ruadh," Dougal told me with amusement. "Perhaps yer right aboot me. I do love my reflection, but make no mistake… I love Scotland more, and I did love Geillis Duncan. And like her, I will give everrathing I have and ever will have, includin' my life, te see a Stuart on the throne." For a moment, we stared at each other in silence. "I see yer a fierce woman. An excellent match fer Jamie. Ye ken, it was I who proposed ye marry when I heard rumours of the two of ye. I was the one who informed my brother, who forced yer marriage. I hope someday, ye'll thank me."
Without saying another word, he turned and left, leaving me standing in the candlelight staring furiously after him. Entitled arse… He may have helped force our marriage, but he had no hand in the love that Jamie and I held for each other.
7 September, 1745
Murtagh, Jamie, Cailean and I all sat around the fire late at night. I was seated on the ground beside Jamie's knee, Archie lying at his feet and resting his head on my lap sucking his wee thumb. I brushed my fingers through his soft red curls as he slept, glancing up at Jamie when I felt his hand on my upper back and smiled at him.
"So this battle… ye say it's at Prestonpans?" Murtagh suddenly asked. Cailean glanced around to make sure everyone was out of earshot, then cleared his throat.
"Aye, the twenty-first. Two weeks," he replied.
"Do we win?" Murtagh asked him.
"It's a Scottish victory, aye. How we win, though, we cannae say. In our time, it was four hundred years in the past, and unfortunately, all that exists is a verra small number of contemporary accounts from Scots and mostly, an English rewrite of their loss," Cailean answered him.
"It's a swampy gorge, we ken tha' much," I chimed in. "There was a pathway that was found, accordin' te one contemporary account, but no mention of where it was."
"Ye dinnae ken the tactics of battle?" Murtagh asked us.
"We took them by surprise startin' the attack at dawn. They were still asleep," I answered him, looking down at Archie. We heard the sound of footsteps and instantly silenced as Fergus appeared from the dark.
"The men are talking about their whores," Fergus told us.
"Well, I hope ye didnae tell them aboot the whores ye kent in Paris," Jamie told him, teasing him.
"I did, Milord! They did not believe me!" Fergus exclaimed, causing Cailean to snort.
"Good! They shouldnae be hearin' aboot whores from a ten-year-old," I said. More footsteps, very numerous in volume, sounded again, and alarmed, Jamie held up his hand to silence us all.
"Catrìona, take Archie and Fergus te the tent," he told me, and I quickly scooped up Archie and stood, giving Fergus a shove in the direction of the tent.
"No, Milady, I want to help!" Fergus told me.
" Ist , ye'll do no such thing. Come with me," I told him.
"Easy, lass. No need te fuss," came Dougal's voice, stopping me in my tracks.
"Dougal?" Cailean said with surprise as Dougal stepped into the light of the fire, Angus and Rupert behind him.
"I've a pack of new recruits," he said as the men in question came into view. "Ten of them, all willin' te join the cause of the Bonnie Prince."
"How do ten men just walk into the camp without so much as a challenge from the sentries?" Jamie demanded of his uncle, clearly irritated about having his toes stepped on again by his uncle.
"I just smiled and waved and they let me pass. They kent it was me," Dougal told him.
"Murtagh, who was on watch?" Jamie asked without looking at him.
"Ross and Kincaid," Murtagh answered him.
"Bring them te me," Jamie told him. "And post new guards in their place."
"Aye," said Murtagh, and then he stopped by Fergus. "Come, laddie." Together, the two of them disappeared into the dark.
"Jamie, did ye no' hear? I've brought volunteers fer our noble cause," Dougal told him.
"Volunteers?" Cailean asked, looking at the faces of the men. "They dinnae look like they're here out of the goodness of their hearts."
"Here of yer own free will, are ye?" Jamie asked the men, who seemed to be cowering. "Prepared te bleed? Prepared te leave yer families and yer homes fer months, maybe years? Maybe forever? This isnae a war where ye'll risk no more than yer lives in battle. This is treason. If we fail, then all those who support the Stuarts are likely te end up on a scaffold."
"They're true Scots," Dougal told him. "Everra man prepared te fight and die fer their king."
"Let them speak fer themselves then," Cailean told him.
"I much prefer these men fight and live fer their king," Jamie told him, and then he looked at the men again. "I am James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser. I command this army. If ye dinnae wish te be here, then it is my order that ye leave now and return te yer homes. None will think less of ye and no harm will follow." Without hesitation, the ten men left, proving that they had been brought here by force. "The rest of ye are dismissed."
"The rest of us, he says," Angus muttered as he and Rupert passed through our campsite. I stopped Rupert and met his eyes firmly.
"Learn who yer commander is. Sort out yer loyalties," I told him. He didn't answer me, and the two of them disappeared.
"I thought ye agreed te follow my orders," Jamie told him firmly.
"When did ye order me not te recruit new men?" Dougal asked him. "We must conscript as we travel. We need everra able-bodied man in Scotland if we're te win this war."
"I'll not reave another man's clan," Jamie told him firmly. "I'll no' force a man te risk dyin' fer somethin' he doesnae believe in."
"We can make them believe," Dougal said, but I cut him off.
"No, we cannae!" I snapped at him, silencing him as the three men looked at me. "Ye cannae force a man te put his heart into somethin' he doesnae feel. Ye cannae force a love of a prince who's never set foot in Scotland before now. Ye cannae force a love of a king who was already exiled when many of the men ye want te fight by the time they were even born."
"She's right," Jamie told him. "Half of Lovat's men already deserted at the first opportunity."
"A man that fights fer his own beliefs is worth ten that are forced te fight fer someone else's," Cailean said.
"What fine words," Dougal said to Cailean, and then he looked at Jamie again. "Ye ken, all I hear is talk and talk and more talk, but no action. Ye speak of fightin' and talk of makin' soldiers, but where's the experience and the action?"
"These men arenae ready fer action. They need more trainin'," Jamie answered him.
"Oh, and what a braw job yer doin' of that. I just led ten armed men into yer camp," Dougal told him.
"And ye think you could do better? Terrorisin' the men who've never seen combat? Never looked down the barrel of a gun?" Cailean snapped at him. "Yer a conceited bastard who craves nothin' but violence!"
"Cailean! Yer no' helpin'!" I snapped at my brother.
"You watch yer mouth, boy!" Dougal snapped back at him.
"Cailean is an officer in my army! You will respect him as yer superior!" Jamie shouted at Dougal, startling him a little bit. "Ye willnae lead ten armed men into my camp again."
"What's te prevent it?" Dougal asked him, clearly still challenging him.
" You will. You and yer men are now in charge of sentry duty fer the entire encampment. And that is an order ," Jamie told him firmly. Dougal stared at him for a moment in silence.
"Fine," he said. "I'll order my men te their stations."
"Good," Jamie told him. The two of them stared each other down for a moment, and then Dougal stalked off.
"Go on, move!" Murtagh's voice exclaimed, and he, Fergus, Ross and Kincaid appeared in the fire light.
"Ross, Kincaid," Jamie said as the two men were shoved forward. "Ye put the entire encampment in jeopardy."
"But we need more men, my Laird!" Kincaid said to him. Kincaid and Ross were Lallybroch men.
"As I said te my uncle, we willnae reave men from other clans," Jamie told them. "Yer te be punished fer yer carelessness in the morning. Until then, yer relieved of yer duty and are under arrest. Murtagh? Post a guard over them fer the night."
"I'll do it myself," Murtagh told him. The following morning, Ross and Kincaid stood before the rest of the army, both Fraser and MacBean, as Jamie addressed the army.
"We cannae abide carelessness," he was saying. "It could cost us our lives, and the lives of the women in our clans that we have a duty te protect. Ross and Kincaid were neglect in their duties, allowin' ten strangers into the camp last night, and fer that, will receive six lashes apiece. Murtagh."
I couldn't stand by and watch, nor did I want Archie to see, so I turned quickly and made my way to the barn. It wasn't far enough to avoid hearing the crack of Murtagh's belt as it made contact with their skin.
13 September, 1745
We were packing up our things again, as it was time to leave for Prestonpans. Charles expected us in two days' time, which would be ideal for marching. Prestonpans meant the first major battle of the uprising, which meant that we were destined to meet the end of this journey at Culloden. Archie sat in the grass and played with a small stick, digging into the dirt with it, while I folded linens and dumped out the forgotten coffee from that morning. I heard a throat clear and looked up to see Jamie standing near the remnants of the fire.
"Are ye ready te go?" he asked me.
"Nearly," I replied, and let out a heavy sigh. "Do ye think the men are prepared?"
"As best as they can be. We've nearly a week until this battle ye speak of," Jamie replied. "What aboot the women?"
"I've done what I can. Now I'll be relyin' on them te help me train the women of the other clans," I said. "Do ye ken all who's there?"
"MacDonald of Glencoe, the rest of Clan Chattan… Soon, us," he told me. "Last I heard, Cameron was on their way."
"Led by Jenny Cameron," I said with a smile, causing Jamie to cock his brow. "Aye, ye heard that right. She's the eldest daughter of Hugh Cameron of Lochiel, and she'll be leadin' her father's men te join the prince's army."
"A strong woman," he said, and then he let out another heavy sigh. "I dinnae want ye involved in this."
"Aye? Too bad, I'm here, and I'm no' leavin' ye te deal with this alone," I said as I stood.
"Archie shouldna be here," Jamie told me. "We should have left him with Jenny."
"Maybe, but… He's a tough lad. He'll be safe. We'll keep him safe," I said. "Best we get on our way. We dinnae want te be late meetin' our Bonnie Prince."
JAMIE POV
The armies had stopped for the night and were camped somewhere near Crockett Burn, a small river in the middle of the highlands. Jamie was taking a small moment of peace to relieve himself in the woods when suddenly, he felt himself being grabbed from behind. He let out a loud grunt as he fought whoever it was that was attacking him, feeling the sharp pain of a blade touching his neck, then gained the upper hand and grabbed the arm of his attacker. He twisted the man's arm, hearing an audible crack to match the loud cry of the attacker and shoved him up against a tree.
"Jamie!" came Cailean's voice, and he, Murtagh, and a few other men appeared in the woods with a lighted torch, revealing the face of the young lad that had attacked Jamie.
"Yer just a bairn!" Jamie exclaimed.
"I'm sixteen!" cried the young lad in an English accent.
"Sixteen or sixty, ye just made a verra credible attempt te cut my throat," Jamie told him firmly, holding his grip.
"Who are ye, laddie? Why are ye creepin' around at night?" Cailean asked him as Murtagh went to search the pockets of the lad, pulling out a letter.
"This is addressed te General Cope. Tha's an English officer. He's a spy!" Murtagh exclaimed.
"I'm no spy!" the lad squeaked. "I saw the light of your fires and when I came to investigate, I recognised Red Jamie!" The young lad then looked up at the crowd of men who had appeared, addressing Cailean. "And you are Black Collin!"
"Black Collin? Do ye no' ken Scottish names? Get it right, tha's Black Cailean ," Cailean told him.
"You both are unprincipled and traitorous rebels!" the young lad snapped at them.
"I dinnae think yer in a position fer insultin' us, laddie," Jamie told him.
"Not a spy, but conveyin' with an English officer," Murtagh observed.
"Who do ye march with?" Jamie asked him, but the lad didn't answer him, so Jamie pushed on his arm and caused him to cry out. "Oh, is yer arm broken? I thought I heard somethin' snap!" He pushed the lad's arm again, causing him to scream.
"I'm prepared to die!" the lad exclaimed.
"I'd that so?" Jamie asked him, pulling him off of the tree and holding his dirk to the lad's throat. "Well, I'm no' prepared te kill ye just yet. Who do ye march with? I want their number and direction of travel!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Catrìona appear among the crowd, probably drawn by the lad's screams.
"There's nothing you can do that will make me talk!" the lad shouted back at Jamie. Catrìona seemed to push her way through the crowd. "Scottish barbarian!"
"Leave him alone, you sadist!" Catrìona shouted at him in her false English accent as she approached them, causing Jamie to raise an eyebrow at her. The expression on her face was firm and fierce, which was so unlike any expression she'd usually show him. That woman was a genius. "I resisted your advances earlier, but if you let the boy go free, then… then I'll surrender myself to you, you… pig ."
"Pig?" asked Jamie, playing along with her ruse, and then he shoved the young lad at a couple of the men, who grasped him as Jamie approached his wife. "Ye may be indifferent te yer own welfare, but perhaps ye'll have some concern fer this English lady's honour!" He grabbed Catrìona by the wrist and pulled her into his embrace.
"No! Let her go!" the young lad cried out.
"Or maybe I could ravish her," Jamie said next, shoving Catrìona up against a tree. "Right before yer verra eyes…" Catrìona let out a cry as Jamie bent down to bite her neck. "And then, I will give her to my men te do with her what they will!" He forced a kiss on her, earning a firm look from her and a knee in his bollocks. "Ooph! Ye Sassenach wench…" Jamie gave her a look as if to say 'watch it', but her firm look stayed.
"All right! Release the lady and I will tell you whatever you wish!" the young lad exclaimed.
"Good," Jamie said, handing Catrìona off to her brother, who feigned grasping her harshly. "Hold her, until the boy answers my questions." He then looked at the young lad. "Start with yer name."
"My name is William Grey, second son of the Viscount Melton," the young lad, Grey, answered him.
"And whose troops are ye with?" Jamie asked him. "How many?"
"Two hundred infantry, travelling to Dunbar to join General Cope's army," Grey told him. "And I'll warn you, we have heavy armament."
"Do ye?" Jamie said with interest. "How heavy?"
"Sixteen carriage-mounted cannons, mortars and muskets, and a company of thirty cavalry," said Grey.
"Much obliged fer the warnin'," Jamie told him. "And where are these men ye speak of presently?"
"Encamped some three miles west," Grey replied. "Now release the lady!"
"Ye heard her, Cailean. Release yer sister," Jamie said without turning around, and Grey's eyes widened as Catrìona came to stand by Jamie's side, holding onto his arm as Jamie turned his head to kiss her cheek. "Thank ye kindly, my beautiful wife."
"Your wife? " Grey exclaimed.
"Aye, his wife, and before ye go, I'll have a look at that arm, give it a good bind," she replied in her normal accent, surprising Grey even more.
"You're Scottish? " Grey asked.
"Take this lad in the direction he says the camp lies. If the information he gave us proves true, tie him te a tree one mile from the camp so his friends will find him tomorrow," Jamie ordered.
"And if it isnae?" Murtagh asked.
"Then cut his throat," Jamie replied. He then bent a little so that he was face to face with the young Grey, who stared at him bitterly. "I give ye yer life. I hope ye use it well, and I thank ye fer so gallantly protectin' my wife's honour."
"I owe you my life. I should greatly prefer not to, but since you have forced the gift upon me, I must regard it as a debt of honour. I should hope to discharge that debt in the future, and once it is discharged, I will kill you," young Grey said to Jamie fiercely, and Jamie chuckled.
"Then I hope, sir, that we dinnae meet again," he replied.
"A Grey does not forget an obligation, sir ," young Grey spat at him, and then he looked at Catrìona. "And shame on you, you Scottish whore!"
"Get him out of here before I break the lad's other arm," Jamie said, standing up fully and turning on his heel, dragging Catrìona away with him.
"What aboot his arm?" she asked him.
"The lad insulted ye, I'll no' let yet set his arm," Jamie told her firmly. The pair of them went back to the camp, followed by Cailean and a few of the other men. "Cailean, bring all the men te me, includin' whoever was on watch."
"Aye," Cailean said, and then he was gone.
"I could have set his arm in two minutes," Catrìona said once they were alone.
"And whoever their physician is can do the same," Jamie replied. She didn't say anything again, only stood off to the side as the men approached Jamie, including Dougal. "Dougal. Who was on watch?"
"My men," Dougal answered.
"Yer men let that lad get through the lines," Jamie told him, and then he addressed the rest of the men. "We cannae continue with this carelessness, not from anyone! That includes me."
"You?" Cailean asked him.
"Aye, me," Jamie replied. "It was our unshielded fires that drew the lad to us. Murtagh isnae here te give punishments…" He pulled his belt off and handed it to Cailean, who stood there in shock, not accepting the belt. "If ye'll oblige me." Glancing at his sister, who seemed flabbergasted by the exchange, Cailean accepted the belt, and Jamie removed his shirt to bear his scarred back. "Six lashes fer our unshielded fires… and a dozen more fer my carelessness."
He bore every hit with the belt with strength, not flinching even in the slightest. When Cailean was finished, Jamie turned to the crowd to find that his wife was nowhere to be found. "Right," he said, pulling on his shirt again. "Give the same punishment te Dougal's men, and then we will take care of those English troops Master Grey so kindly warned us aboot."
"What are ye thinkin'?" Cailean asked him, still visibly shaken by the punishment as he handed Jamie's belt back to him.
"Slip into their camp, see what sort of trouble we can make," he answered his brother.
"A braw idea," Dougal chimed in as Jamie restored his belt.
"Not you," Jamie told him. "Yer te stay here. Sentry duty. We've a camp te protect." At this, Dougal scoffed.
"So I'm te stay behind like some wretched-"
"Like some wretched soldier who's been given an order by his commander, aye," Jamie told him firmly. "Tha's exactly what ye'll do, and ye'll also be the one te punish yer men fer their carelessness."
"Aye," said Dougal, biting his tongue. "Then tha's what I'll do. Good luck to ye."
CATRÌONA POV
I was jolted awake by the door of the barn slamming open, jumping ever so slightly and disturbing poor Archie, who was slumbering peacefully beside me. "Awake, are ye?" Jamie's voice boomed from the doorway as Archie whined.
"I am now," I hissed at him. "Shh, shh, my lamb, it's all right. It's only yer Da," I said to Archie as I soothed him.
"I'm sorry, my wee laddie," Jamie said as he came into the room, kicking the door closed behind him and handing Archie a metal ring with metal objects attached to them.
"The hell?" I said as Archie picked up the ring and jingled it.
"Loud!" he exclaimed as his father chuckled, sitting on the hay bed beside us.
"What are these?" I asked him.
"Cotter pins," Jamie told me, leaning in closer to me. "Trophies of war ." He pressed his lips to mine, then pulled away, startling me a little - he had black soot smeared all over his face.
"Blessed Bride, Jamie!" I exclaimed.
"Dinnae fash, it's only ash," he said to me. "Didnae have time te wash." He kissed me again, then bent down to kiss the top of Archie's head.
"Da da!" Archie said as he showed his father the pins.
"Aye, I see!" Jamie exclaimed cheerfully, accepting an embrace from his son.
"Where've ye been?" I asked. "How's yer back?"
"Nae bother," he said. "I can handle a thrashin' or two. We went on a commando raid." He smiled at me playfully and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Commando raid… Tha's the right word?"
"It is. Do ye mean te say ye went te the English camp?" I asked him.
"Aye," Jamie replied as he tightened his embrace on his son.
"Did ye go alone?" I asked him again.
"Nah," said Jamie, accepting the cotter pins from Archie. "I couldnae leave my men out of all the fun, could I? We had a verra profitable night. These cotter pins came from the cannon carriages. We couldnae take the cannons, but these pins held the wheels together. Without them, they'll no' go far."
"Can't they fashion another pin from somethin' else?" I asked him as Archie reached for the pins again.
"Aye, they could, but a hell of a lot of good it'll do if they cannae find wheels te put them in," he replied, giving me a sly smile. "We burned the wheels fer warmth."
"Of course ye did," I said, lying back down. Jamie stood up and set Archie back down on the hay bed beside me with the pins in his hands.
"Our success tonight was because of yer wit and yer selflessness, mo ghràidh . It led the lad te confess his camp's location. Ye've saved lives tonight, because a hell of a lot of good sixteen gallopers will do General Cope stuck out in the woods," he told me, and I couldn't help but chuckle as he bent down te kiss me. "It's best ye get dressed. We need te be out soon, before the English camp awakens."
"Ye hear that, Archie? No more sleep fer us," I said to my son, who let out a cheer.
"No bed!" he said, resulting in a chuckle from both Jamie and I.
"I'd best be off te get the men ready. We'll arrive at Prestonpans tomorrow," Jamie said, and he bent te kiss me, then ruffled Archie's hair, stood, and left the pair of us in our hay bed in the barn.
14 September, 1745
Prestonpans, Scotland
We marched through dawn and into the day, marching for hours with the occasional tune of the pipes or a hum, even a soft song sung by the men to pass the time. I rode beside Jamie with Archie in front of me, fast asleep for his mid-morning nap, while Cailean rode behind us beside the men. For a time, all we heard was the marching of the men, the hooves of the horses and the clanking and clattering of belts, weapons, various items, and more.
"Thug hò-ò, laithill hò,
Thug o-hò-ò, an aill libh,
Thug hò-ò, lathaill hò,
Seinn o-hò-ò, an aill libh,
Och 'sa mhaduinn 's mi dusgadh,
'S mòr mo shunnd' mo cheol-gaire,
O' na chuala mi 'm Prionnsa,
Thighinn do dhuthaich Chlann Ra'ill…"
I glanced at Jamie, then turned my horse around to see Cailean singing and the men drawing their attention to him, then nodded to him so he'd ride off to the side. "What are ye doin'? Tha' song's no' been written yet!" I hissed at him quietly.
"No, but it will be soon," Cailean replied. "I'm no' concerned. What does it matter now, anyway? History has proved that no matter how much we meddle with time, it'll meddle back, showin' us that things like this were meant te happen anyway." I couldn't help but let out a sigh.
"It does, doesnae it?" I asked him. "Fine, do as ye like. Suppose we'd best find ways te enjoy whatever of this life we have left." With that said, I rejoined Jamie's side, Cailean leading the men in a rendition of 'Song to the Prince' as we rode. Finally, we came to the hill that lay before Prestonpans. Jamie ordered his men to stop as we looked down at the very large encampment of Scottish Jacobite soldiers.
"Dougal Mackenzie," Jamie called, and within moments, Dougal appeared at his other side. "Do the honour. Ride ahead and announce our presence te His Royal Highness, Prince Charles Edward Stuart."
"As ye say," said Dougal, nodding to his nephew before leading his horse down the hill and into the Jacobite camp. Jamie and I glanced at each other, my grip tightening on Archie in front of me.
"No turnin' back now," I said, turning my attention back to the camp.
"I'd say no'," Jamie said to me. " Je suis prest."
" Deiseil le cridhe is làmh ," I replied. Ready with heart and hand, the Clan Fowlis of Barra motto.