Chapter 17
Up at the castle, the rider on the tired horse had arrived. His reception told us that he’d been expected, because George was there, with Jamie, talking to the man as he slid from the saddle.
I could tell it was serious from Earl George’s fixed expression and the anticipatory relish on Jamie’s.
No one else looked overkeen to hear what the new arrival had to say, although I saw Fergus shaking his head as he led the exhausted animal away to the stable.
Dark was drawing itself around the castle now, an early winter’s evening, which made the glow of the firelight that spread from the hall every time the door opened look even more appealing, and the gathering darkness seemed to be reflected in the general mood.
‘This must be the signal they were waiting for, to march to Stirling. Does that mean there’s going to be a battle?’ I turned to Lachlan.
‘I think so.’ He led the way down the stairs to our cellar.
A small fire was smouldering sulkily in the grate in the far room.
Nobody ever appeared to question why there seemed to be so much going on in that room without anybody ever being down there, which was fortunate for us.
‘And, as we can’t leave the castle and we weren’t all sent to Stirling in the first place, our job is to stop the earl from riding out to join that battle. ’
At that point David and Mal came clattering down the steps. ‘They ride tomorrow,’ Mal said, slightly breathlessly. ‘Everyone is gathering to fight.’
‘We’d worked that out,’ Lachlan said dryly.
‘Ah, but we listened in, like the shameless hussies that we are,’ Mal went on. ‘They’re riding south to do battle, so that when they win, James can sweep on down into England, where he will enter London and take the crown. Or something like that.’
‘And I think they’ll meet at Sheriffmuir,’ David burst in. ‘This must be 1715, and if they’re about to fight the Battle of Sheriffmuir – which was, as your dad so eloquently put it, Pax, a no-score draw – then this is it. This is the pivotal part of the uprising.’
Both Mal and David were looking at me now, with a kind of manic delight.
‘So?’ I asked, rather disappointing them, I felt. They seemed to want me shouting ‘Eureka!’ and leaping up and down.
‘So?’ Mal took me by the shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘So, now we know for definite why we’re here! We stop the earl riding into battle, stop him fighting for James and having his lands seized by the crown for being on the wrong side, save the castle, go home! Isn’t it obvious? Now we know!’
‘If they’re riding out tomorrow, then all we need to do is stop them leaving and it’s all over and we go back,’ David added. ‘No more nights in a cellar.’
‘There’s just the wee matter of how we stop them,’ Lachlan said dryly. ‘The good earl does not seem receptive to our Pax’s charms.’
‘I’ll talk to him again,’ I said. ‘There must be something I can say or do, because if it’s utterly impossible, then why are we here?’
‘Torture?’ Mal raised his eyebrows.
‘Him or us?’
‘You could try it.’
‘Mal,’ I said with the careful weight of one explaining yet again to a particularly determined Year Eight that dropping a really big lump of magnesium into water will probably blow up the science lab, ‘I can’t touch him.
There’s not much torture that can be brought to bear when I can’t even poke him in the eye. ’
‘Oh, true.’
‘No, I’ll try talking to him again.’
‘What can you say that you didn’t say last time?’ Lachlan interrupted.
‘I don’t know! What happens after this battle of Sheriff whatever, David?’
David, looking put on the spot, frowned.
‘Hang on. I think that neither side wins, not really, but the King – that’s George, not James – outnumbers the other side and that the other king – James, not George – basically gives up and goes back to France.
Which, in my view, is punishment enough, unless he really likes croissants. ’
‘And presumably anyone who fought for James gets their lands seized,’ Lachlan finished. ‘Seems straightforward enough.’
‘Right, so I’ll tell George that. He can’t want his children disinherited, surely?’ I found I was biting the inside of my lip with urgency.
‘But he didn’t care last time,’ Mal pointed out. ‘He must have known it was a possibility, and he does seem dead set on fighting for James.’
‘I’ll sit him down and tell him how rubbish my life is, then,’ I said. ‘I should be heir to all this and instead I’m teaching chemistry to kids who don’t want to learn it.’
‘Yes, not sure that’s entirely going to convince him.’ Mal raised his eyebrows at me. ‘You might want to show him some benefits for him, rather than obsessing about how dreadful it is for you.’
‘Where is he?’ I rounded on David.
‘Up in the office, with the lad who rode in with the news. Who’s half dead with exhaustion but giving all the latest troop positions to the earl.’
‘Right.’ Careless of whoever I was walking through, I marched up to the castle doors and on up the stairs. The earl was pacing the floor of the office while a grey-faced young man propped up against the wall waved his hands and muttered.
George saw me and stopped pacing. ‘Oh no, not again!’
‘I beg pardon, my lord?’ Grey-faced man was obviously trying hard to stay upright.
‘Nothing.’ The earl sighed deeply. ‘You go down to the kitchens, get them to give you a hot meal and a bed. We ride tomorrow.’
‘Aye, my lord.’ With great effort the young man dragged himself from the room and George looked at me.
‘Well?’
‘I’ve come to try to persuade you again not to go.’
‘Have you, now?’ George shook his head. ‘I told you, I ride to fight for James, for the honour of the McKells.’
‘But there won’t be any honour! I’ve seen what happens…
’ This was a slight fib, I was still a little bit hazy on the outcome of the battle of Sheriffmuir, but I certainly had had what happened afterwards drummed into me repeatedly by Dad: the McKells losing everything.
‘Don’t you want your son to inherit all this? ’
George jerked his head. ‘My son? I have no son. Just the two wee girls.’
‘But what if you go back to your wife now, and – well… you know? There could be sons.’ I cleared my throat.
I wasn’t clear on how inheritance worked, but I did know that even if one of his daughters inherited then the land would pass into her husband’s family when she married.
‘The castle should stay in the McKell name…’ I trailed off rather sulkily.
‘Are you telling me that I will die in the coming battle?’ He shifted slightly in his chair. ‘Arrangements are made. I am not afraid to die.’
‘Even if you don’t die, do you think King George would let you keep all this?
’ I swept an arm around to indicate the walls.
‘You will have everything taken away from you. If you… die, your wife will remarry and it will be as though you never existed, and if you live everything the McKells ever had, or were, will be gone! This lovely castle will become a muddy little headland falling quietly into the sea, piece by piece.’
George took a deep breath. ‘A son,’ he said. ‘Who will inherit all this? You are certain?’
‘Well, I’m a McKell, and we think I must be a direct relation because you can see me.’
‘You are a McKell?’ He almost laughed now. ‘Truly?’
‘We don’t come out of the womb in battle armour and waving a flag, you know,’ I snapped, because his amusement scratched at nerve endings already raw from the need to make him understand.
‘So you must have a son, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, would I?
And we know that the castle passes out of the family hands…
’ I let the end of the sentence hang so he could do the work.
The possibility of paradoxes were stacking up and I half expected something dramatic to happen – a roll of thunder, a cracking of stones.
There was nothing more than the noise of two dogs scrapping on the staircase and someone laughing down in the hall below.
I didn’t let my mind dwell on the thought that had suddenly struck me, that if George died, if there were no sons, what would happen to me? Would I and my entire family stop existing? Would we simply never have been?
‘A son,’ George said again, almost wonderingly.
‘I was beginning to think Isobel could only bear me girls.’ Then he glanced at my face.
‘Not that there is anything wrong with girls, of course,’ he added hastily.
‘I love my daughters as much as I would a son. But – the name… Would that I could see the name continue.’
‘Well, then.’ I thought I had him then. ‘Isn’t James a Catholic cause? Are you even Catholic?’
‘What I am, is pragmatic,’ he replied, perching on the corner of his desk for all the world like our head about to launch into more cost-cutting exercises.
‘I worship in whichever way is expedient.’ He smiled.
‘I think God isn’t too fussy, as long as we try to do our best.’ The smile died.
‘But we ride tomorrow, nonetheless. I’m sorry, lass, but I see no benefit in staying here but the promise of riches and glory in battle. ’
‘But you’re going to lose.’
He shrugged. Oh God, I was going to fail. Everything hung on me changing his mind and I was going to fail. I wondered how the future would look for me now – would we still be sent back to our own time? Back to teaching chemistry…
Hold on. Just hold on one second. I thought faster than I had ever thought in my life. ‘What about if I can promise you riches if you don’t fight?’
George gave me a kindly smile. ‘You would give me fairy gold? That evaporates in the light of day?’
‘No! No, I can do better than that. I can give you something that will make your fortune.’
Now the earl was frowning at me, but it wasn’t a dismissive frown.
It was an expression that showed a thought process torn between glory and possible death in battle and potential riches and a son.
If only he believed me, and had the streak of slight financial greed that had made Lenny wax lyrical about how much our potential hotel enterprise could earn.
I’d had ponies and a drive to win rosettes. Perhaps acquisitive lust ran in the family.
He had to believe me. I held my breath.
‘I need you to prove this.’ All amusement was gone from his voice now, the slight tone of teasing replaced by a purely businesslike approach. ‘And you swear on your spirit realms that you speak the truth?’
‘I will swear on anything you want, George.’
He looked around the room, at the painted walls, the intricate tapestries.
‘Have you any idea how difficult it would be to withdraw now? The clans are marching, the standards are on the move, we’re expected to ride south and join battle.
’ Now George came right up close to me, his eyes scanning my face.
‘You are certain, are you, aye? That our forces loyal to James cannot win?’
‘Yes. You can’t win. All that happens is a rather sad and pathetic loss of life and then the loss of everything else.
I’ve seen it, George. I’ve lived with the repercussions.
’ Hope made my voice forceful. ‘Don’t ride out tomorrow.
I’m not saying you have to fight for King George, but if you just don’t take sides…
we’re hoping everything will work out all right and we can go home. ’
George turned and went to the window, staring out across the castle headland.
I could see only his back view. His hair was tied back by a black velvet ribbon at the nape of his neck and his shirt was all ruffles and lace.
It ought to have looked feminine, but there was something very stoic and male about his broad shoulders and straight back.
‘But there’s the family name to uphold. Our principles, our belief that King George will not do what’s right for Scotland.
’ He turned around. ‘Can you tell me that he will?’
Now I really began to wish again that I’d listened to Dad’s stories. ‘Scotland gets its own parliament,’ I said, slightly weakly. ‘Eventually. Has it lost it yet?’
I got a sardonic smile now. ‘Aye. The Act of Union.’ Now George looked as though he wanted to spit, but didn’t like to in the presence of a lady, even a lady wearing boots and an expression of hopeful irritation.
‘But we regain our ability to govern ourselves? Without the English trying to starve us out?’
‘Yes.’ Bearing in mind that he was edging towards listening to me, I didn’t feel that it was in my interests to admit that they’d have to wait a few hundred years to get their parliament back.
‘Come on, George, you can’t want to see your men die and your family losing everything!
However strong your principles are, that’s just madness!
What will happen to your children if you get killed? ’
George blinked at me. ‘Jamie will take over the care of them,’ he said. ‘I have no brothers of my own. Jamie would become their guardian and care for their inheritance. He will stay away from the battleground to ensure his safety, should anything happen to me.’
‘What are their names?’ I asked, gently.
George smiled again, a smile with memory tugging at its corners. ‘My eldest is Anne, for my sister,’ he said. ‘My wee one is Isobel, for her mother. You have given me hope for more, for boys to inherit, and the first of these would be Lennox, should we be so blessed.’
I felt myself starting to smile. Lennox. A name that travelled down through the years. ‘Well, that’s… nice,’ I said, a bit feebly.
A long finger reached out as though to touch my face.
Of course, it went right through and George snatched his hand back.
‘You look so real,’ he breathed. ‘So solid, and yet… I don’t understand.
’ My lungs still weren’t sure whether I could start breathing again or not so when he nodded slowly, all the air came out in a rush that sounded like a sigh.
‘Show me what you promised,’ George said.
‘Tell me how I may make my fortune and keep my castle.’
It was as though my whole body had restarted. Breathing, heartbeat, everything resumed normal functions although my legs felt weak with relief. ‘Give me some paper, a pen and some ink,’ I said.