The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)(20)

It was clear he was not going to let her go, so she sat down. Even if she had full use of her arms, she couldn't overpower him. As it was, she didn't even know if she could manage to make the bread, she ached that much. Duncan moved away from the door and sat down opposite her.

"They've accepted ye, Beth. They think ye're accustomed to such work. If ye go out there today and collapse, they'll ken that ye've overreached yourself, and why ye've done it. They'll still admire ye, mind, but that's no' what ye want, is it?"

"No," she said. "I just want them to stop treating me differently, that's all."

"Well, then," he said. "Stop now, while ye're ahead. And ye dinna need to pretend to me that ye're no' hurting. I'll no' tell a soul, and neither will Alex or Angus." He smiled winningly, and she gave in. He was right.

"I'm not sure I can even knead the bread dough," she admitted in a small voice.

"Dinna fash yourself," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm an expert. Away off back to your bed for a couple of hours. It'll be a long night, if things go as normal, and ye'll want to be awake to see the fruits of your labours."

* * *



Once the harvest was in it rained for a few days and then the sun came out again. Everyone made the most of it; it was September by now, and was probably the last time they'd see the sun, or the warm sun at any rate, for some months. The grain had been ground, peat for the fires dug, the cattle brought down from the hills, and the knowledge that their diet would be supplemented by the generous provisions Alex had brought from England rendered the MacGregors carefree and relaxed. Whatever problems the winter brought this year, starvation would not be one of them.

Today the clan was occupied in various leisure pursuits. Most of the children were swimming in the loch, their mothers watching and chatting, some of the men had gone hunting, and Alex, Duncan, Angus and Dougal, the lazy Robbie's eldest brother, had gone off into the hills to practice fighting. Beth had asked if she could accompany them, as she had no children to watch, and had never seen Highland swordplay.

Permission having been granted, Duncan, Alex and Beth were sitting on a large flat sun-warmed rock, observing Angus and Dougal as they went through their paces.                       
       
           



       

"It seems awfully realistic," Beth observed, as Angus ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated by Dougal's broadsword. He drove his targe into the other man's stomach, temporarily winding him, and then paused to allow Dougal to get his wind back.

"There isna any point in holding back," Alex explained. "If ye canna hold your own against one man who'll give ye the time to recover yourself, ye'll no' last five minutes on the battlefield. Ye're slipping, man," he said to Dougal, who had regained his feet. "In a real fight Angus would ha' finished you off now."

"He's improved since I last fought him," Dougal acknowledged.

The two men circled each other for a moment before closing in again, Dougal more wary now. They had stripped off their shirts and their muscles bulged and rippled as they thrust and counter-thrust at each other. Even Beth could see they were well-matched, in size and strength, at least. As far as technique went, she had no idea, but they both seemed pretty accomplished and ferocious to her.

"He's put on bulk," Alex said, eyeing his youngest brother's muscularity with admiration.

"Aye, he's a man now," observed Duncan. "In the body, at least."

Beth sat between her husband and brother-in-law, watching closely. She had expected some sort of fencing competition with rules, not the free-for-all battering and gouging contest she was now witnessing. She waited with trepidation for the blood to spurt, and wished she'd thought to bring some bandages with her.

"Do people often get injured in these play fights?" she asked.

"Oh aye," Duncan said nonchalantly. "But it's no' normally that serious."

Alex looked down at his hand.

"That's how I got yon wee scar there, that gave my identity away to ye," he said.

Beth looked at the ‘wee scar', and wondered what a big one would look like.

"Who were you fighting?" she asked.

"Me," replied Duncan. "We were eleven and thirteen, and thought we were men. So we borrowed da's claymore, without telling him of course, and went away off tae play at soldiers. Keep your arm up, man, ye're tiring!" he shouted suddenly to Angus, making Beth jump. Dougal's sword smashed into the younger man's targe with arm-numbing force, and Angus leapt nimbly backwards out of striking distance.

"Ye could hae taken him then, Angus, his right side was unprotected!" Alex said, shaking his head. Angus acknowledged the truth of this with a rueful smile, not taking his eyes off his opponent, and shook his head. Droplets of sweat flew in all directions.

"What happened?" Beth said after a minute.

"What? Oh, well, we took it in turns to use the claymore, swinging it about like mad things while the other one leapt away or used his dirk to parry. Christ, we were stupid, were we no'? It's a miracle one of us wasna killed." Duncan smiled at his brother, remembering.

"So you hit him with your father's claymore?" Beth asked.

"No," Alex cut in. "He did it wi' his dirk. We'd both had them as presents a few weeks before, and we were awfu' proud. We kept them razor-sharp. Well, a claymore's a mighty heavy weapon, around fifteen pounds or so, but da used to wield it as though it was a feather. After a wee while of swinging it around and running at him, I got tired, so I planted the sword in the ground for a wee rest."

"Just as I went for him wi' my dirk. He couldna get his arm up in time, and I laid his hand open to the bone," Duncan said. "I thought I'd cut it off at first, there was that much blood."

"Aye, and while I was bleeding to death on the grass, all he could think of was that Da'd kill him when he found out what we'd been up to!" Alex laughed.

"I did tear up my best shirt to bind it up with!" Duncan protested. "Ma never forgave me for that. And I've still got the scars from the flogging I got, too."

Alex looked at him sceptically.

"Scars of the mind," Duncan said firmly.

"We both got those," Alex said. "Da flogged Duncan that evening. I thought I'd get away wi' it, being injured an' all, but he just waited till my hand was healed before he beat me. That was worse. Not only did I get a beating, but I got to look forward to it for a week as well. And that wasna the end of it, either."

Duncan creased his brow in puzzlement.

"I dinna remember anything else from it," he said.

"Aye, well, ye werena there when the scar got me a broken nose, were ye?" Alex said, looking at Beth, who coloured violently.                       
       
           



       

"You asked for it," she said. "You should have told me who you were before you married me."

"I didna get the chance, wi' Isabella and co fluttering around morning, noon and night. And anyway, I needed to have the legal power as your husband to lock ye away if ye'd taken exception to marrying a Jacobite traitor."

"Would you really have done that?" she asked.

"I dinna ken. Aye, probably. For a while. Anyway, it's irrelevant. You're here, and you're happy, are ye no'?"

"I suppose so," she said, with intentional insincerity. She was happy. In fact she could not remember when she'd been happier. She thought she'd like nothing better than to live like this for the rest of her life, looking after Alex and his brothers, enjoying the affectionate bickering, sitting round the fire at night drinking whisky and telling stories, before returning to her own home to make love to her strong, gentle husband. Of course life was not always peaceful like this, she was continually being told. Hence the ‘playfighting' between the two sweating protagonists in front of her, which now appeared to have turned into a wrestling contest, their weapons having been abandoned on the grass. Dougal had just managed to trap Angus's arm over his shoulder, and was in a perfect position to break it, although he obviously had no intention of following through and doing so, to Beth's relief.

Duncan leaned over and picked up the skin of ale from the shadow at the side of the rock.

"This is where Angus should really kick Dougal in the balls," he explained to Beth, taking a deep pull from the flask before passing it to her.

Both combatants heard the advice, and Angus shifted position slightly.

"You try it, ye wee gomerel, and it's your neck I'll break, no' your arm," Dougal growled.

The two brothers on the rock groaned in unison, half a second before Angus did just what he'd been warned not to do, as they'd known he would. Dougal let go of his adversary, twisting his lower body to deflect the blow, which caught him on the thigh. Then he leapt at Angus, gripping him round the waist and driving him backwards to the edge of the grassy clearing. The two men teetered on the edge of the slope for a moment, then lost their balance and fell over the side, rolling off down the hill in a flurry of oaths, green and brown plaid and bare buttocks, before disappearing out of sight.