Chapter 20 - Torin
TORIN
The world was wet and chilled me tae the bone. I was stiff and achy. There were soldiers already guardin’ the perimeter as we planned. Uncle Ryan was with them, havin’ come with the first group.
All was well, except I hurt everywhere.
I groaned as I pushed upright, my palms sinking intae thick, dew-heavy moss. The air smelled of peat and pine and verra auld. I put elbows on my knees, hangin’ m’head in despair, but raisin’ up a bit tae take stock of the other men. Aenghus was here, Charlie would come with the next wave of men.
And Max was here, just beginning tae stir.
Max said, with his arm across his eyes, “Och, I daena like doing it.”
“If I hae tae travel in this hellish way and lay in the mud in a primeval forest, then the prince has tae…”
I wasna sure twas true, but I was in a complainin’ mood.
Aenghus said, “Aye, here we are, once again, wallowin’ in the mud in the middle ages.”
My vision was blurry — I brushed m’hair from my eyes with a muddy hand.
“At least we cleaned up for the occasion.”
Fog drifted low across the moor, curling around us. I could barely see beyond our group. I joked, “And the weather is verra fine, just as ye said.”
Aenghus said, “Twill clear.”
Ryan stalked over. “Everyone alive?”
Max groaned.
I said, “What dost ye mean by alive?”
Aenghus held his hands up, as if counting his fingers. “Aye. We’re here. Saints preserve us — tis 1308. I can feel the weight of it.”
Max pulled himself up tae sitting. “Ye hate it, Uncle Aenghus?”
“Aye, I grew up in a century not far from here, unlike yer other uncles who hail from a land called Florida, a miraculous place, with bonny maidens and bountiful food.”
Max said, “I haena ever seen it, but I would like tae.”
Ryan said, “We must get up, we need to be on the move. Charlie’s unit is arriving in the west. They’ll have our vehicles and more weapons.”
Aenghus lumbered up. He spoke to the six soldiers. “Grab yer arses and raise em tae the sky, men, there is a field wantin’ a victory on the other side of the day.”
He was keepin’ the meanin’ light, but I was feeling the weight of the hour.
We had survived thus far, but the battle hadna begun.
We kept low, our boots sinking into the marshy ground, guns slung across the soldiers’ backs — we trudged. Fog swirled around us.
I clapped Max on the back. “Ye ready, m’laird?”
“Aye. I hae lived for this moment.”
“Good.”
We crested a hill above the fog.
Ryan passed Max a device. “Here, look.”
He asked, “What is this?”
“Called binoculars, put them to your eyes and look there.” He pointed.
Max raised them to his eyes and said, “Och, I remember these, Da used tae have them.”
Ryan nodded. “We have his pair somewhere, if I find them they’re yours.”
Max’s jaw clenched.
Ryan asked, “Do you see the castle?”
“I do, tis a wee castle.” Max sneered. “We will hae this done by lunch. Dost ye want tae see, Torin?”
I said, “Aye,” and he passed the binoculars tae me. I held them the way he had held them.
Max said, “Ye see it?”
I was trying tae focus, searching in the direction he pointed, then I froze.
Ryan said, “Yep, now he sees it.”
I checked the horizon with m’eye, I couldna see the castle, but then put the binoculars back up tae my eyes. The castle was a black shape surrounded by fog, makin’ it look darkly menacing. But also wee. “Tis nothin’. We will take it afore we’ve even drawn our swords.”
Ryan said, “I don’t know, looks big to me. Built of stone. Not going to be easy.”
I joked, “Tis so small the whole of it fits in this wee device.”
Aenghus, gettin’ the hang of it, said, “Aye, I will hae the castle in m’pocket in the pub tonight and will trade it for ale.”
Max said, “Good one, Uncle Aenghus.”
Then he told Ryan, “This is what Torin and I do, we mock our enemies afore we strike.”
I looked in the binoculars one more time. “The silhouette of Dunstaffnage Castle, squatting on its promontory. Wee torches flickerin’ along the ramparts, must be full of wee men, with wee little lances.”
Smoke billowed from a chimney on the inside of the east wall.
Ryan said, “Wee little Dunstaffnage, Rannald’s murder castle.” I passed him the binoculars.
“Aye,” Aenghus said, “The foul, flatulence-filled seat of Rannald the dishonorable puttock.”
Farther off, a horn sounded — a long, low, mournful tone. It carried across the moor giving me a sense of dread.
Ryan said, “Scouts are about, as soon as the third unit arrives, we pass out the weapons and go.”
A flicker of movement at the treeline caught my eye — riders passing just below us.
I glanced at Ryan, he held up three fingers. Three of them. Then another finger and another. Five men.
Aenghus grabbed Max’s arm, pulling us all behind a jut of granite. All our soldiers were absolutely still and quiet.
Aenghus peered out.
Finally Ryan exhaled. “They passed, we’re good.”
And then we settled in tae wait for Charlie’s unit tae arrive.