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  Swiftly they worked, packing vegetables, flour, salt, eggs, the remains of joints and cooked pies, with other provisions, into panniers. Lady Emrey added some preserves and medicines from her stillroom, and a few bottles of wine. William hoisted two casks of ale onto one of the ponies, added two mattresses and bundles of blankets, and eventually they were ready.

  At the last, moment Blanche remembered the sword of Angus Macdonald and ran back to rescue it from the small room where John had placed it.

  Dressed in an old grey gown she had almost outgrown, Blanche led the way from the stableyard and through the kitchen garden. She guided the leading pony, and keeping close beside the hedge that hid them from the sight of anyone watching the front of the house, went towards a belt of trees that gave them further cover.

  They gained the shelter of one of the steep paths that wound between high banks towards the upper hills, and had soon reached Lizzie's cottage. There had been no time to warn her, and she exclaimed in dismay at their story, bustling round to unload their provisions and make room in her tiny cottage for them. William took the ponies, promising to hide the panniers in a small cave not far away where they would be undiscovered, and then turn the ponies loose before departing for his daughter's home some miles distant across the hills.

  *

  The next few days were strange, and for Blanche, exciting. She had never imagined what it would be like to live entirely in one room, with only a small loft, reached by a ladder, which Lizzie insisted she and her mother used to sleep in.

  'Ye'll be safer, my lady, apart from more comfortable,' she insisted, and indeed there was no space to lay out three beds in the downstairs room.

  Every morning and evening Blanche walked to a spot where she could look down on the Manor and reported the soldiers appeared to be in no haste to move on.

  'What if John returns, unaware of their presence?' she asked on the third day. 'He'd walk straight into a trap! Mayhap they are waiting for him.'

  'Do not fear, Blanche. William promised to watch for him. His daughter lives on the road John must take. I've no doubt William will warn him and tell him where to find us.'

  Satisfied, Blanche returned to her task of helping Lizzie cook an appetizing stew made from rabbit and wild herbs, eagerly asking the old woman what uses the herbs were put to.

  John arrived as it was growing dusk three days later, anxious and furiously angry. Once satisfied they had not been harmed, he was for storming straight into the Manor to confront the occupants, and was only dissuaded when Lady Emrey pointed out that then the soldiers would be bound to discover Blanche's hiding place.

  'Then I'll go and see the Rector, Mr Henderson. I'll not be seen, for 'tis dark and moonless. He'll tell me what is happening.'

  He departed, to return an hour later with disquieting news.

  'The house and all its contents are confiscated by order of Parliament,' he told his mother and sister. 'I am looked for, with a substantial reward offered, and the leader of the troop has been boasting at the inn of what he'll do when he discovers Blanche. It seems he has been preoccupied until now, but means to begin a wider search for her tomorrow.'

  'John, he's a devil! She must not fall into his hands!'

  'Indeed not, Mother. We must leave here early tomorrow.'

  'Where can we go? Did you have any success with Mr Askew? Could we go to him?'

  'No, I fear not. He died a year back of smallpox, and leaves no family. We will have to go to Ireland, and when I have seen you safely with your people, Mother, I will return to avenge this insult.'

  They were discussing the best way to take when Blanche remembered the sword and withdrew it from its hiding place behind a roughly carved settle.

  'You must take this to Scotland,' she reminded John. 'Had you forgot?'

  John stared at her. 'You saved it? My dear, I am so grateful. I have been puzzling how I might retrieve it, for I had sworn to Angus I would return it to his family. It gives me an idea. His father is one of the Macdonald chieftains on the mainland, and from there and with his help we could travel through the Isles, also ruled by Macdonalds, to Ireland.'

  *

  Chapter 2

  Early on the following day they set off. John had been able to catch one of the ponies grazing nearby, and Blanche rode this while Lady Emrey rode pillion behind her son. Later, he hoped to catch better horses for them, for several they had turned loose were still roaming in the hills.

  The journey through the most northerly parts of England and far into the central Highlands was long and arduous, despite the better mounts they soon obtained, and sometimes it was dangerous. Some of Lady Emrey's jewels were sold to enable them to buy saddles and bridles, warm cloaks, and food. They sheltered at small inns or cottages, and once beneath a haystack when they were far from human habitation. It was more than two weeks before they reached their destination, for they had to travel by the less frequented roads and keep a constant watch for roving bands of soldiers.

  'A year since we might not have been able to cross the border,' John explained, 'for the Covenanters guarded every mile. Now, most fortunately for us, they are kept occupied by Montrose. Since he changed sides to support the King he has inflicted some severe defeats on them, aided, incidentally, by the Macdonalds. They follow some of the Irish clan who came over to his support.'

  As they passed from the rolling hills of the Lowlands into the more rugged mountains the way grew more hazardous, and they frequently came across people who spoke no English. They made progress, however, and once they entered the Macdonald lands John obtained swift and efficient guidance by showing the sword he carried and explaining he brought it to the chieftain.

  They arrived at their destination late one evening, to find the many-turreted castle, silhouetted against the rose and orange streaks of the setting sun, perched on top of a rocky promontory that fell sheer on two sides to a wide loch that curved around it in a crescent shape, enfolding it protectively. On the landward sides there was a huddle of grey stone houses with turf roofs, enclosed by a rough wall that went right into the waters of the loch. A few houses sprawled outside the main gateway in the centre of the wall, but several of these looked derelict, and none appeared to be inhabited. Dominating the little town, set proudly on the hill behind the wall, was the castle, its entrance consisting of twin grey stone towers, dwarfed by the massive keep built right on the summit of the hill.

  Lady Emrey was near exhaustion, and smiled weakly at Blanche as they passed through the little town, across the marketplace in front of a squat stone church, and towards the castle. John hammered on the gate and a small grill was uncovered from within.

  'Who is it?' a gruff voice demanded, and John held up Angus' sword.

  'I bring the sword of the Macdonalds to its home. Conduct me to your chieftain!' he announced, and the man stared at him in surprise, then turned to confer with a hidden companion. He reappeared, nodded, and the gate creaked open. John led the way into the large inner courtyard and dismounted, turning to lift Lady Emrey down. Blanche slid out of her saddle and stood looking about her in awe. She had never seen so magnificent a fortress.

  A man, tall and powerfully built, appeared on the steps before the main entrance to the castle and looked down on them. He walked slowly down the steps, gazing steadily at the sword John held.

  'Greetings, strangers,' he said quietly. 'I am Hugh Macdonald. I understand you have something for me. I beg you to come with me.'

  He gave his arm to Lady Emrey, whom John introduced, and then turned to lead the way through the vast doorway, across a high, vaulted, stone-walled hall, and through into a smaller apartment, comfortably furnished with tapestries and upholstered chairs. He led Lady Emrey to one of them, and indicated that Blanche took another, then he turned to John.

  'You have, it would seem, grievous news – of my son?'

  John bowed his head. 'Indeed, I fear so, Lord Hugh.'

  Quietly he told the bereaved father of his son's death after the ba
ttle of Naseby, and described Angus' last few hours, repeating his messages for his family. Lord Hugh listened courteously, no emotion visible on his face apart from a certain tautness about his mouth.

  When John had finished he stepped across the small room holding out the sword, and Lord Hugh received it from him.

  'I thank you, for your friendship with Angus, and this last sign of it you have offered him. I will have rooms prepared for you and the ladies.'

  He clapped his hands and a small, wiry man appeared from an inner room. Sir Hugh spoke swiftly in Gaelic and the man nodded and waited.

  'Davie will conduct you to your rooms. I will see you at supper in a short while. I must go to my daughter first.'

  Admiring his courtesy amidst his grief, they left him and followed the little man Davie up some steep, winding stairs. He led them to small bedchambers, comfortable but oddly shaped, for they were on the outer wall of the keep, their narrow windows overlooking the loch through thick, solid walls.

  Blanche's room connected with her mother's, and John was on the other side. Davie, who spoke English with a thick accent, said that maids would bring hot water immediately.

  'Is there aught else ye need? Ask me if so, and I'll fetch or send for it,' he told them. 'I'll wait outside and take ye down to the hall for supper.'

  Thankfully they washed, removing the travel stains, and changed into fresh gowns.

  As Blanche finished brushing back her hair, weird sounds came to her, apparently from just outside the window, wailing, painful sounds.

  'What is it?' she called to her mother.

  'The pipes, child. 'Tis a custom here, when there is a death, to pipe a lament.'

  Blanche listened to the wild, eerie music, and found it extraordinarily difficult to prevent her own tears from flowing as the agony and longing in the sound penetrated her mind.

  *

  As it finished with a dwindling wail Davie and John appeared and the Emreys followed the little man, somewhat reluctantly, to join Lord Hugh in the hall.

  He came forward to greet them, then led them over to present them to his daughter, a girl of Blanche's age.

  'Fiona will see to your comforts, Mistress Blanche,' he said, and the girl bowed her head gravely. She was slightly taller than Blanche, with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She was not a beauty, but there was a quality of quiet confidence about her, and her chin was raised in an attitude of determination that was most attractive. She was composed, but there was a suspicious brightness in her eyes.

  However, her voice was steady as she murmured greetings and John, studying his friend's sister with compassion, felt a surge of admiration for her courage.

  After the first few minutes conversation was restricted, for the two pipers entered the hall, their plaids of soft reds and greens pleated and belted round their waists while the ends were flung over their shoulders.

  They played their lament throughout the meal, marching up and down the length of the hall. Fiona made some pretence of eating, but Blanche, full of sympathy for the bereaved girl, was herself unable to swallow more than a few morsels of food.

  At last the meal was over, and Lady Emrey tactfully pleaded exhaustion and carried Blanche off to bed, leaving Lord Hugh and Fiona with John, for Lord Hugh had asked John to tell Fiona himself of her brother's messages.

  'She bore it so bravely,' he later told his mother. 'For so young a girl, but a few months older than Blanche, she showed great powers of self-control. Angus was proud of his sister, but I did not think she had such a noble courage!'

  Lady Emrey was to judge that herself, for on the day following their arrival at the castle Fiona sought her out to talk with her about her brother.

  'You tended him at the last, and I hope you will tell me of him,' she said simply.

  That evening at supper Lord Hugh asked what the Emreys' plans were, and John explained he intended to escort his mother and sister to Ireland before rejoining the King.

  'Ireland? Your relatives are Catholics?'

  'No. My family came from Cheshire and my great-uncle, a younger son, settled near Belfast when he was a young man,'

  Lady Emrey explained. 'As the rest of my grandfather's branch of the family are dead, they are now my only kin.'

  'I think Ireland is unsafe. The Confederates are not sending aid to His Majesty, despite his dire need. The Earl of Ormond cannot persuade them, for they demand the return of cathedrals, and freedom to practise their faith. They will turn against the Protestants soon.'

  'The King's cause appears lost,' John said gloomily. 'Have you heard news out of England?'

  'Aye, and bad news. Carlisle has fallen, and Pomfret and Scarborough surrendered. It is only from Montrose that help can come.'

  'He is still successful?'

  'Undoubtedly. He plans now to march southwards, to invade the Lowlands. Why do you not join him, Sir John? You'd serve the King best that way, by swelling a victorious army.'

  'It is something to be considered. I may return after escorting my mother and Blanche to Ireland.'

  'As to that, I have another proposal. I do not relish the thought of sending you on to Ireland in its present unsettled state. Will you remain here and bear my daughter company?'

  Lady Emrey looked at him in astonishment.

  'You are generous, Lord Hugh!'

  He smiled sadly. 'Not so. Fiona needs a woman's guidance, more so as she is now my heir. I had intended, later, sending her to my brother's wife, but she must begin to learn about my lands. Besides, she has taken a liking to you and your daughter, and your companionship would help her recover from her loss.'

  After more discussion Lady Emrey agreed that it would be the best plan. She did not know her cousins in Ireland, and Lord Hugh's warnings of unrest there disturbed her. Here in this Highland fastness they would be safe, and in close touch with John when he joined the Marquis of Montrose.

  Blanche was delighted with what she had seen of the castle and heartily approved of the plan. The next day at breakfast Fiona asked whether they would like her to conduct them on a tour of the castle. John was eager to ride away to join Montrose, but willingly agreed to postpone his departure until the following morning.

  Fiona smiled at Blanche. 'I am glad you are staying so I shall not have to go to Aunt Katriona. Father says we may study together, and I shall enjoy having a companion at my lessons. But now I want to show you the castle. It is a rambling place, for our ancestors have frequently added to it in the past few hundred years, even building a maze of rooms in the rock below. I expect it will take time for you to learn your way about. Let us go down this way, then we can walk along the loch terrace, which gives a wonderful view of the surroundings.'

  Chatting composedly, showing no hint of her grief for her brother apart from a grave, unsmiling countenance, she led the way. Blanche gasped as they came out onto the terrace, for spreading before them and stretching for miles was a wild, mountainous country, the lower slopes of the hills covered with forests, while the loch spread away on either side, the eastern part winding through the hills, while to the south it gradually widened as it neared the sea. Leaning over the wall she saw the sheer, dizzy drop to the water, making the castle impregnable on two sides. Fiona led the way up onto the battlements of the keep so that they could see on the other side the little town sprawling down the slopes of the hill and around its foot. A rough wall enclosed most of the town, apart from the few houses they had seen, apparently abandoned, outside. Blanche asked why none of them seemed to be occupied.

  'The people are afraid to live outside now,' Fiona explained. 'Since the troubles with the Covenant there has been much lawlessness and we have suffered, for our enemies take the opportunity of raiding us for cattle and whatever else they can steal. The Campbells especially have been troublesome since Inverary Castle, the main stronghold of Argyle, their chief, was burned by Montrose last winter. There were many Macdonalds with him, you see, and the Campbells want revenge. We are uncomfortably close to Campbell la
nds.'

  *

  The two girls soon struck up a firm friendship and spent nearly all their time together. Lady Emrey busied herself, at Lord Hugh's request, with the welfare of his people, and John was away with Montrose's army.

  He was in time to join the Marquis' gallant attempt to restore the King's fortunes by marching southwards, and fought in the victorious battle at Kilsyth in mid August, then marched on to occupy Glasgow.

  It was the pinnacle of Montrose's achievement. In a year he had formed an army from nothing, fought and won six battles with the loss of barely a couple of hundred men, and after each had been compelled to recruit again as his Highlanders drifted back homewards with the cattle they had seized as prizes, this representing all the pay they could expect and the livelihood of their families. All but one of the Covenant's armies were broken, but that one under David Leslie returned in September and inflicted on Montrose his first defeat.

  John came with the news.

  'We were surprised in our camp at Philiphaugh, early in the morning,' he explained grimly. 'Alistair Macdonald and his Irish were not with us, and their absence proved disastrous. Our horses were still grazing and we could not reach them. Most of us, indeed, were still in Selkirk. The Douglas band fled, leaving it to the rest to mount a defence. Poor devils! They were butchered, even those who surrendered on promise of quarter were afterwards lined up in rows and shot. Leslie ordered the women to be slaughtered, hacked to pieces, and those who survived were taken to Linlithgow and thrown into the river.'

  'How do you know this?' Blanche asked, horrified.

  'A few escaped. Montrose himself had to be dragged from the field. At first he was disheartened, wishing he had perished with the others, but now he plans to raise another army. His name alone is worth an army to the King. I have come to ask your men to help yet again, Lord Hugh.'

  More men were recruited, and Montrose tried to regain the initiative. The astounding news that Prince Rupert had surrendered Bristol to the Roundheads came, then a message Digby was coming north to meet Montrose on the border.