"I'm sorry," she said, blushing. "It's just so typical of him though, isn't it?"
"Aye, it is, the bloody idiot," Alex said. "Tae arrive in Scotland wi' no men, no weapons, and be told that two of the biggest clans willna support ye, and then refuse to see sense. That's just what we need in a leader." He stood up. "Let's get out of these stupid clothes, Beth. Duncan, you take a message to Isabella to say that Lady Elizabeth is indisposed, but it's nothing serious. Alasdair, have yourself a wash and a bite, and then we'll all meet back here in half an hour or so."
"Right, then," Alex said later. "Tell us everything. Then we can decide what we're going to do."
They were all seated round the kitchen table, bowls of stew in front of them, cups of ale at their elbows. Alasdair, having already demolished one bowl while the others were changing or delivering messages, gratefully accepted a second helping. The food at the inns had been indifferent, to say the least, and his funds meagre.
"Aye. Well, as I said, he landed wi' his seven men, and then the news spread like wildfire. Boisdale came tae him the next day, and then Charles moved on to Borrodale, to a farmhouse there. He sent letters out to all the chiefs, and a good few came and tellt him the same thing Boisdale did, to away off hame. But he wouldna go, and then Clanranald declared for him. Once he'd done it Glencoe and Keppoch joined too."
"Glencoe?" Beth said, her eyes wide.
"Aye. It was from your cousins at Glencoe that we heard about the prince landing in the first place. Kenneth was all for me riding down to ye that night, but then we thought he might still go hame, so we waited a wee while to see what transpired."
Alex was counting furiously.
"That's still only six hundred men," he said. "It isna enough to inspire the rest. Ye said MacLeod and Sleat willna commit. Lochiel willna either, and Lovat'll no' bring out the Frasers unless … "
"Lochiel's declared for the prince," Alasdair interrupted.
Alex stared at him in shock. The Camerons were a big clan, and powerful.
"No," he said after a minute. "No. I dinna believe it. Donald wouldna do that, no' without the French."
"He has, though," insisted Alasdair. "He rode up himself to see Charles, and they had an awfu' long talk, so I heard, and Lochiel wasna keen, tae say the least. But the prince won him round, and he's bringing the Camerons out. That's when we decided to come and tell ye, because once Lochiel agreed, we knew others'd join. Glengarry already has. Charles is raising his standard at Glenfinnan on the nineteenth, and they're all meeting him there, wi' their men."
The nineteenth. And today was the tenth. Nine days.
"This is it, then," said Iain in wonder. "After all these years of waiting, this is finally it."
"When do we leave?" asked Angus, his eyes bright with fervour.
"Wait," said Alex, holding up his hand. "I need tae think."
"Think?" cried Angus. "What's there tae think about? The whole of Scotland's rising for Charles!"
"No, it isna, ye bloody fool," said Alex, rounding on Angus so fiercely that he flinched backwards. "I wouldna hesitate for a second if it was. A wee bit o' Scotland's rising for him, that's all. I canna believe Lochiel's been bewitched by him. Christ, we're no' ready. It's suicide."
"Aye, well I'm sure it will be, if everyone thinks like you," retorted Angus scornfully. "If we wait for the French, we'll all die of old age, wi' our swords rusting under our beds and Geordie mouldering on the throne till he's ninety."
Alex lunged, grabbing Angus by his shirt with such force that he lifted him from his seat.
"And if we rise now, when we havena sufficient arms or the northern clans behind us, and no support frae the French or the English, we'll all die in the field, wi' our weapons rusting in the mud and Geordie's kin ruling forever, wi' no one to stop them." He threw Angus back down on the bench with a thud, and only Duncan's arms wrapped round the young man's chest stopped him from retaliating.
"It's no' the time, Angus," Duncan said quietly. "Leave it."
There was silence for a few minutes. Alex rubbed his hand through his hair again. Angus's breathing slowly returned to normal. Everyone looked at their chieftain with anticipation.
"Have ye no' heard anything of what's going on, down here?" Alasdair asked.
"There have been rumours," Beth said. "But there are rumours all the time. If we believed them, then we'd be in a permanent state of readiness for war. A couple of days ago the Elector put up a reward of thirty thousand pounds for anyone who captured the prince, and it was said there were vague rumours he'd embarked from France. Otherwise, no, there's been nothing substantial."
"It's no' such a stupid time as it seems, though, is it?" said Iain. "Wi' most of the British troops in Flanders, and losing, too. They're being pushed back all the time. Cumberland's away, and Geordie's in Hanover. If we strike fast we could be in London before they can get the army back to stop us."
"That's true," said Maggie. "Ye said yourself, Alex, that there's no more than seven thousand troops in the whole of Britain right now."
Alex showed no sign of having heard any of this. He sat at the table, head bowed, soup congealing in his bowl.
"If we leave tomorrow, we could make it tae Glenfinnan in time, just," said Angus.
"I canna go," Alex said quietly.
Angus shot to his feet.
"What do you mean, ye canna go!" said Angus.
"What I said." Alex looked up at his brother. "I canna go. Nor can Beth. No' yet. We'll have to stay a while, and see what the British intend to do when they find out what's happening. I've got arms coming in too, that I've tae pay for and arrange to get up to Scotland." He sighed. "Duncan, it'll be up to you to raise the clan for Charles. But only those that really want to go, ye ken. No one's to be coerced, and no boys under fifteen, no matter how they plead. And if ye get to Charles and find he's only got a handful of men after all, I want ye to go home, taking all the men with ye." He looked pointedly at Angus.
"We canna do that!" said Angus. "We've sworn to support him. We canna betray him now!"
The others half expected Alex to go for his brother again, but he merely looked at him, and when he spoke, his tone was calm.
"Angus, you're a man now. Think like one. Aye, I swore to support him, if he had French backing. And I'll support him without that, if I think we've a chance of success. But it's no betrayal to prevent a man from killing himself when he hasna a hope in hell of winning. James will never come to claim the throne himself, now. He's too old and sick. Charles is all we've got. And he'll only get the one chance. If he canna see when the time is wrong, it'll be up to his friends to do it for him."
"Do you think the time is wrong?" asked Beth.
"I dinna ken. Iain and Angus have a point. The French may never give us troops, and most of the British army is tied up abroad right now. But if enough of the clans willna commit, then I'll no' get my men killed out of misguided loyalty. We've had enough aborted attempts at a rising before. The next one must be a success, or the Stuart cause is lost. That's my view."
"What will you do then, if Duncan takes the men home?" asked Beth.
"I'll go up there and tell Charles myself why we'll no' fight for him. I owe him that at least. I wouldna expect anyone else to tell him such a thing to his face."
"Would he be awfu' angry, do ye think?" said Maggie apprehensively.
"No," smiled Alex. "He'd be awfu' persuasive. He is. I've nae doubt that's how he's won Lochiel over. He could persuade the devil himself to sing psalms if he'd a mind to. That's why he's so dangerous. If he'd as much sense as he's got charm, I'd no' be worried."
"I'll stay here too, Alex," said Maggie. "Ye canna keep up the pretence of Sir Anthony wi' no servants at all. I can at least do the cooking, and keep the important rooms clean. Ye'll have to hire a man for the heavy stuff, though."
"No," said Iain. "I'll stay with ye."
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
"It'll no' be for long, I'm sure," he said. "Duncan has to go, he's the next in line after Alex, and the men'll listen to him, and wild horses wouldna keep Angus away, that's obvious. I can wait until ye're ready, Alex."
"It could be a few weeks," Alex said.
"Aye, well, ye'll be needing a footman, I'm thinking. If ye hire a coachman, he can live out, and then ye'll no' need to be Sir Anthony all the time when you're at home."
Alex smiled, slapped him on the back by way of thanks, then lifted his spoon, looked at the soup, and put it back down on the table. There was another short silence, during which Angus positively fizzed with excitement, and the others displayed various expressions, beneath all of which was the dawning realisation that it seemed the rising was, at last, finally about to happen.