Prologue #2
Others realized it, too, because they were already running into the water and swimming. Brody took the time to look to either side of him, seeing both Doogie and Cauley standing next to him.
“Come on, lads,” he said with quiet authority. “In we go.”
He stepped into the water but he was knee-deep before he realized his cousins hadn’t moved with him. He paused, turning to them.
“Into the water,” he commanded softly. “We must swim, lads. Move quickly.”
Cauley stepped in, but his eyes were wide with fear. “I canna swim,” he said. “I dunna know how.”
Brody was close enough to grab him. “Hang on tae me,” he said. “I’ll keep ye afloat.”
Before Cauley could reply, English were suddenly at their backs, rushing forward.
Doogie was still on the shore, a dozen yards back, and Brody watched in horror as his young cousin took a sword to his midsection.
As the man collapsed with a swarm of English around him, Brody dove into the water and pulled Cauley with him.
They were out of time and there was no looking back.
No turning back.
They were swimming for their lives.
Truthfully, Brody was terrified. It was either face the English or the loch and, at the moment, he chose the loch.
He knew it would be just as unforgiving as the English but he didn’t have much choice.
He could see men ahead of him in the water, several of them foundering.
He began to realize the some of his men couldn’t swim and they’d jumped into the loch knowing that, knowing it was their only hope at living.
Perhaps that had been foolish enough to think the loch wouldn’t be too deep for them to walk it, but they had.
In their desperation to flee, they’d overlooked the obvious.
Brody knew he couldn’t save them.
Already, he was struggling with Cauley hanging on to him.
His cousin was a big man, trying to keep his head above water, but he was swallowing more water than he was taking in air.
Brody was swallowing a fair amount himself because with Cauley’s weight, he couldn’t swim efficiently.
The sense of panic was hard to ignore, but Brody had to.
If he didn’t, he’d be lost just like the men around him, sinking into the cold waters of the loch, lost to a watery grave.
On the shore, the English hadn’t pursued them into the water, but they were scaling the hills around them, keeping the Scots from coming to shore and making a run for it.
But even the English could see that the Scots were in a world of trouble, so they slowed their pace.
The loch was going to do their job for them.
Because the hills were so steep around the loch, they eventually came to a halt and just watched the disaster unfold before them.
Men were drowning.
The Scots were dying.
Brody knew that. God help him, he knew it and he was devastated by what was happening. But he also knew he would join them if Cauley didn’t stop being so much dead weight, so he tried to encourage his cousin as he swam along.
“Kick yer feet!” he commanded, sputtering out water. “Cauley, kick! Kick or we willna survive!”
The water was cold and what they wore, the woolen tunics and boots, were heavy. They were dragging them down even as Cauley kicked as hard as he could. But he was kicking in a way that wasn’t helpful because he didn’t know how to propel himself forward.
“I am!” he said, coughing because water was in his mouth, up his nose, and everywhere else. “I’m trying!”
“Do it or we die!”
Cauley was trying so hard, but he simply couldn’t get the same motion no matter how much Brody tried to show him.
“Oh, God, Brody,” he finally said, coughing up more water. “I’m not going tae make it. Help me! Please, God, help me!”
“Cauley, watch me,” Brody said, coming to a halt and treading water even as he tried to keep his cousin afloat. “Watch my hands and arms. See what I’m going? Ye can do this. It will keep ye afloat.”
He was doing a very basic swimming motion, paddling they called it, but Cauley was in too much of a panic to try. He kept grabbing Brody, dragging him down in the water.
“I canna do it!” Cauley cried.
“Ye can!” Brody boomed. “Do it and ye’ll live, I swear it!”
Cauley grabbed hold of Brody’s hair and pulled him underwater, which made Cauley go under as well.
Brody knew that if he didn’t separate himself from his cousin, he was going to drown.
They’d come to that moment where Brody either had to save himself or die alongside his cousin, trying to keep the man from drowning.
He had to let go.
His head came up and he gasped for air, disengaging Cauley’s grabbing hands.
Once he detached his cousin from him completely, Cauley’s eyes widened in terror.
He began gasping in panic, his big hands slapping the water as he grabbed for Brody, and all Brody could do was encourage him to paddle like he’d shown him.
He was about an arm’s length away, fearful that Cauley would drown him if he got any closer.
“Paddle, Cauley, paddle!” he shouted. “Ye can do it, lad! Try hard!”
But Cauley couldn’t. He was too far gone with panic. He tried to grab Brody a few more times before his head went under completely. His hands, his arms, flailed about, but he couldn’t lift his head out of the water. As Brody watched, heartbroken, Cauley slipped down beneath the surface of the loch.
A quiet ending to a violent death.
And it was devastating. Sobbing, Brody began to swim again for the shore on the opposite side of the loch, which was now closer.
He could see a few men still swimming, still making their way towards shore, but at that point, Brody hardly cared.
He’d just lost two men he loved like brothers in Cauley and Doogie and he simply couldn’t face what he’d done.
This was his fault.
He’d done this to them.
It wasn’t the English or the battle for Berwick or anything else that had caused their deaths. This was on him because he’d been arrogant enough to think he could ambush the English and teach them a thing or two. In the end, he’d been the one taught the lesson.
That he was stupid.
Reckless.
That men had died because of him.
Once he reached the opposite shore, he counted only six MacKay men.
Six where there had once been thirty. The loch had claimed those lives…
but nay. He had claimed those lives. He might as well have drown them all himself.
Distraught, and devastated, Brody simply started to walk.
Stagger was more like it. One foot in front of the other.
He didn’t know where he was going, but he wasn’t going back to face his father with what he’d done.
He’d defied the man and it had cost him everything.
He couldn’t admit that he’d been wrong.
The coward in him kept running.