The Thistle and the Rose(60)

But they were clearly heading north. Alec's message exuded confidence that the Macphersons would be able to stop the farther advance of the invaders, but he wanted the Campbells to be forewarned in case the marauders turned west toward the coastal countryside and the Campbell lands.

When John was finished, Colin stood and went to a large cabinet by the wall. Opening the front, he revealed a criss-cross of pigeonholes filled with scrolls. Selecting one of them, he brought it back to the table, unrolled it before Celia and the others.

Looking at the colors, the symbols, and the lines on the parchment, Celia recalled her own father's coveted maps. Once, their ship had lain at anchor in the gray harbor of a once thriving Danish seaport, now smoldering and desolate in the wake of a Swedish invasion. She had stood at her father's elbow as he explained that the red circle on the map represented the ruined city before them. Celia remembered his grim look and the way he had taken her in his arms when she had so seriously asked why there was no smoke on the map.

Celia smelled that foul smoke now. She felt it stinging her eyes and hindering her breathing. There was no smoke depicted on this map, either. Nor was there any indication of the death and the suffering that one man can inflict on another. No sign of the agony of losing someone that you love—one that you depend on, for strength, for sustenance.

There was no blanket of gray smoke pictured over the men, the women, and the children scratching out their meager lives in the lands to the south of Benmore Castle. But Celia knew that smoke was there. And she felt the cold grip of it on her own aching heart.

“We need to reinforce them,” Colin said. “At the very least.”

“Aye, lad,” Hugh agreed fervently. “We owe it to the Macphersons. But even if we didn't, it would be a crime to allow the butcher and the traitor to traipse unopposed through the Highlands. We need to stop them.”

Colin placed his hand on Celia's shoulder and pointed out Kildalton Castle. Running his finger to the northeast, he indicated Benmore Castle. To the south of the Macpherson's holding, Celia could see the Grampian Mountains stretching to the east. Between the mountains and the Campbell lands along the western coastline, Colin placed his index finger.

“This is where Alec figures Danvers and Argyll to be,” he said. “If we do not reinforce the Macphersons, and Benmore Castle falls, then there is nothing to stop the invaders from either knocking off the clans one by one to the north or from driving directly west to Kildalton Castle.”

“Why haven't they done that already?” Celia asked. “Marched to the west, I mean?”

“Because they do not want the Macphersons at their back,” Edmund put in.

“Aye,” Lord Hugh agreed. “But if they're able to hurt the Macphersons, then the entire Western Isles are far more vulnerable.”

“But it's Kildalton and everything we have here that Danvers and Argyll want,” Colin added.

He leaned forward on the table and scanned the attentive faces around him. “This is what we'll do. Emmet and I will take a force from Oban by boat up Loch Linnhe to the River Spean, and march overland to join Alec's forces at Benmore Castle. That way we can cut off Danvers and Argyll from pushing any farther north or west.”

“Aye,” Edmund put in. “The English will need to travel south or east through the Grampian Mountain passes to avoid a major battle.”

“Nothing would make me happier than to send a force south to cut off those mountain passes,” Colin said pensively, looking down at the map. “With the Macphersons to the north, and Campbell fighters to the west and to the south, we could close off the raider's retreat and engage them where they stand.”

Celia watched as Colin weighed the possible outcomes of such an action in his mind.

“But we cannot,” he decided after a pause. “The risks are too great. We've got to protect Kildalton castle, and a force large enough to trap the butchers would leave the Castle and the western lands far too vulnerable.”

“There may be something else,” Celia said quietly. “They may be trying to lure us out.”

“That's very true,” Colin considered, looking thoughtfully at her. “Though I do not think they'd try to attack Kildalton from the sea, even with a smaller number of defenders here.”

“Maybe they just do not want to fight us at Kildalton at all,” Emmet suggested.

“We'll charge that to cowardice on their part rather than wisdom,” Lord Hugh responded. “Argyll's capable of treachery when he thinks you're not looking, but he hasn't the guts to take you on face to face.”

Lord Hugh squeezed her bloodless hand, but Celia's heart was pounding in her chest. The thought of Colin going out to face these vile and desperate marauders was terrifying. She wanted to cry out against the plan, but she knew that she couldn't. Colin's plan was sound and his friendship with Alec inviolate. With supreme self-control, she tried to fight back the overwhelming fear that was lodged in her throat like some great stone, that clogged her lungs like thick, gray ash.

Looking at Colin and trying to hide the worry that she was feeling, Celia saw the determination on his face soften into a look of reassurance as he returned her glance.

“Then it's settled,” Colin said. “We'll bring back all but a handful of fighters from Argyll's castle. And the day after tomorrow, Emmet and I will take a thousand or so men from Oban.”

He looked around at those at the table.

“And Celia and Edmund and the rest of us,” Hugh rumbled, with a look of tenderness at his new daughter, “we'll guard the loved ones here at Kildalton.”



The next day was gray and threatening. As Celia sat with Colin in the garden, the cold, wet wind chilled her to the bone in spite of the heavy cloak and the giant's arm around her.

The cherry blossoms all lay plastered to the ground from the night's rain, and the dark green of the tree's young leaves was a poor substitute against the shiny black bark of the wet branches.

“When the king left for his fight with the English,” Celia said, her voice calm and controlled. “The people of Scotland lined the streets, cheering and celebrating a victory before the battle was even fought. The men marched out, handsome and dashing in their armor, the long spears flashing in the sun.”

Celia paused as she recalled the vision, a tear running down her cheek.

“The women were weeping as they cheered. I remember thinking that they must be so proud, even in the thought that danger lay ahead for their men. I remember thinking then that I could see their emotions, but I couldn't feel what they were feeling. All I could feel was hope that everyone would return with their honor and their lives. But I never dreamed that Flodden would mean the end of the world as the Scottish people knew it. As these women knew it.”

“Nobody could have known what it would mean,” Colin agreed, holding her close. “Nobody could have known that the number of deaths would be so high.”

“Colin, those deaths caused misery that should never again be repeated. I saw those women...I heard them...shrieking in agony. Wandering the streets, their eyes blind with anguish, their faces the same dead color as the corpses they once called...husband... brother...father.”

“Celia, we are not going to our Flodden,” Colin said in a low voice. “This is not the same. What happened on those wet fields last fall is not going to happen here.”

Colin looked out into the mist that lay like a shroud over the cliffs beyond the wall.

“We have to use what we have learned,” he said firmly. “All of his life, James fought for a Scotland that would stand together. He used his charm, his guile, and his strength to achieve that goal. A unified Scotland is what you and I believe in, as well, but we will not make the same mistakes that he made.

“When the battle began, James gave up his role as commander of the forces under his control. It was his fatal error. Without his leadership as king, as the symbol of strength and authority, the army broke into the factions that it was comprised of. Like Scotland itself, without a central power to hold it together, they fell away...clan by clan, village by village, man by man. And when traitors like Argyll and the others should have engaged the English, they lay back and watched the king fall as well. James died at Flodden because he fought like a common soldier rather than as a leader, as a commander, as a king.

“But James never had the woman that I have now. I have fought these battles many times before, but I have never had so much to come back to. I am the commander of these men and a leader of the people of these lands. They depend on me to live and to bring them prosperity. I will not die a soldier's death in the hills around Benmore Castle. I will come back to you, the woman I love.”





Chapter 16





Kildalton Castle was a solemn place in the first days following the fighters' departure.

Celia, Lord Hugh, and the others waited anxiously for news of Colin and his men, but when it came, by way of a daily messenger, there was never anything of importance. Although a speedy messenger could reach the Macpherson holding in less than a day, the Campbell troops were progressing slowly and carefully toward Benmore Castle. The only signs of the enemy were the constant streams of refugees limping into the northern hills.

Finally, the message arrived that Colin had reached Benmore Castle, only to find it under siege by a combination of English troops fighting alongside Gregor clan and Macleod clan warriors.