Chapter Twenty
WE RAN STRAIGHT INTO them, among them, swallowed up by Wilkie’s clansmen, absorbed, amazingly, into a sudden sea of safety.
And I could see that Campbell’s men were in such close pursuit and were caught so off guard by this sudden materialization of an enemy army that several of them rode right into the Mackenzie masses.
As Wilkie turned our horse, I caught sight of two Campbell officers being cut down, impaled by the swords of a number of Mackenzie warriors, who may have attacked out of sheer surprise more than anything else.
Campbell was livid and appeared almost crazed with his many frustrations, yelling, “Pull back, men! Pull back! The Mackenzies are too many!” He swore loudly at the sight of two of his men being slain, then he repeated his orders in a high-pitched shrill. “Pull back!”
The remaining soldiers of the combined Campbell and Ogilvie forces followed their leader’s order, retreating and forming a row that faced the front line of the now-halting Mackenzie troops.
In the center of the Mackenzie front line were Laird Mackenzie, Kade and Fergus flanked on either side by two Munros, the distinctive bright red color of their Munro tartan standing out among the mass of blue and green of the Mackenzies.
For several seconds, no one spoke, and only the sound of the horses’ stomping feet and puffing snorts could be heard.
But then Laird Mackenzie’s gruff, loud voice rang out.
“Campbell! You are outnumbered by at least ten to one. You cannot win this. I would take great pleasure in killing you here and now. Unlike you, however, I value honor, and I will give you one chance and one chance only to make your way peacefully back to your keep, and stay there. You have no rights nor jurisdiction over either this lass or Ossian Lochs, nor will you.”
Campbell’s retort was inflected with bile; he was not only a sworn enemy of Laird Mackenzie, but he was clearly highly miffed at the unexpected turn of events.
Disappointment featured heavily in his body language.
“I would take as much pleasure in avenging my own father’s death as you would, Mackenzie. ”
“Aye,” said Laird Mackenzie. “Which is why our best course of action might be to let their war die with them. And your rebellion along with it. The lass is the rightful heir to Ossian Lochs. We have already summoned the king to have him officially confirm the identity of his lost child, Roses Stuart.”
The king! The thought of meeting him was but a drop in the ocean of overflowing emotions I felt in this moment.
As the lairds addressed each other, Wilkie had walked our horse back up to the front line, stopping to stand between the horses of his two brothers.
I caught Kade’s eye. I might have imagined it, half blinded by the glint of his shield, sword and all the other shiny paraphernalia strapped to him, but it almost looked as if he winked at me.
Wilkie addressed Campbell. “Any unwelcome notions you might have entertained, Campbell, to take her as your own in your bid to obtain rights to Ossian Lochs should now be decisively laid to rest.”
Laird Mackenzie continued, “If there’s a bone of honor in you, Campbell, you’ll recognize that this matter is now settled, and we can all endeavor to maintain peace.
You are not the rightful heir to Ossian Lochs.
Accept it and return to your own lairdship—a plentiful, well-appointed keep, at that.
Use your energies to prosper among your kin. And let us do the same.”
I couldn’t determine whether Campbell had been convinced or not by the Mackenzies’ suggestions.
Either way, it was clear that he and his remaining ten guards, along with a pathetically small turnout by the Ogilvie army, were not in any position to dispute Laird Mackenzie’s proposal. At least not today.
Laird Mackenzie added, “We will therefore be allied not only with the Munro army and the Stuarts, but also with the Morrison army. You have no chance of defeating our combined forces, now or at any point in the future. Go home and stay home.”
Regardless of whatever his future plans were, Campbell’s rebellion, for now, would not bear fruit.
This was as obvious to him as it was to the rest of us.
But his parting words were ominous indeed.
“This is not the last you will see of me, Mackenzie. Watch your back. This is not finished. The lass, even if she is the daughter of the king, is illegitimate issue. She is not entitled to anything, least of all the king’s Highland estate. ”
“That is a matter,” said Laird Mackenzie, “for the king to decide.”
“We will take our leave of you,” Campbell said, somewhat loftily, as though he was in fact doing us a favor. “Men, we ride.”
And with that, the Campbell warriors and their Ogilvie conscriptions turned their horses and galloped into a fading distance. We all watched them for many minutes, until they were but tiny dots on a faraway horizon.
And so, this battle was over.
Relief rushed through me as an almost physical surge, and Wilkie, too, seemed almost overcome with it; his big, intense, hard-muscled body fairly slumped over me.
Laird Mackenzie contemplated me and his brother.
“Roses. Wilkie,” he said, more quietly as his army began to disassemble, laughing and loudly discussing the easy victory.
We were in our own conversation now: Laird Mackenzie, me, Wilkie and Kade.
And Laird Mackenzie shocked me greatly with his next words and the slight bow of his head as he spoke.
“Daughter of King William, I will ask for your forgiveness. I did not believe you worthy of my brother, and I was mistaken. I hope you will accept my humble apology.”
I would have stopped him sooner, but I was almost too stunned to reply. “I— Nay. There’s nothing to forgive, Laird Mackenzie. You were acting in the best interests of your family. I have every respect for your motives.”
“Please,” the laird said, “call me Knox, if you will. You are family now.”
I was speechless and could only nod, wide-eyed, at this massive, fearsome, highest-ranking nobleman who was now humble and apologetic before me, and soon to be my brother.
The laird continued, rueful. “If only you’d shared with us your mark...”
“Aye,” countered Kade, “but she did not know of its meaning. Wilkie has good instincts, it seems.”
Wilkie, whose pain, exhaustion and relief may have combined to make him as surly as he’d ever been, said, “My instincts were all about Roses’s spirit and nothing to do with her royalty.”
Laird Mackenzie contemplated Wilkie, and he almost smiled—the very first time I had ever seen him do so.
“Mackenzies,” said the laird. “We return now to Kinloch to prepare for the arrival of the king, and to arrange two weddings. I assume you would still like your marriage to take place at Kinloch?” He may have noticed the inclusion of the minister among our getaway party.
“Aye,” I confirmed. As much as I wanted to marry Wilkie, and as soon as possible, I knew he was in fact too weary for riding his horse a pace farther, let alone participating in a marriage ceremony.
I also liked, now that it was an option, the idea of marrying Wilkie in a chapel, surrounded by his family, as a wedding was meant to be.
“Laird Mackenzie,” I said. “I beg you to reconsider and to camp here tonight. Wilkie needs rest. And his wounds need to be tended to. If they’re left too long, they might get infected.
We’ve brought the Ogilvie healer with us—Ismay—and she’s highly skilled and prepared with medicines.
His injuries are severe, and he hasn’t slept in several nights. ”
The laird looked at Wilkie, seeing perhaps only now the damaged, exhausted state of his brother.
He glanced once in the direction of the Campbell troop departure and seemed to decide that my request was reasonable and safe enough.
I hadn’t noticed it before, either, but the daylight was beginning its wane; the sun hung low in the hazy sky.
“So be it,” the laird said. “Summon your healer. I’ll notify the men.”
Laird Mackenzie gave me one more respectful nod, then he and Kade dismounted, speaking to their troops about the night’s arrangements.
And I spotted Ismay, still astride Ritchie’s horse with Ritchie’s arms wrapped around her. At Laird Mackenzie’s lead, Ritchie dismounted and made a move to help Ismay.
It didn’t take long before we were all assembled together, laying out sleeping furs, with fires being built and food and drink being passed around.
A messenger party consisting of twenty men was sent back to Kinloch to give news of the outcome of our escape and our victory.
Laird Mackenzie wanted the remainder of the army to camp the night, as a defensive measure.
And I was glad of it. We would leave at first light.
“Now,” Ismay said, taking a brief survey of Wilkie’s lashes, bruises and cuts.
“These wounds will need to be cleaned, and well. Take him down to the river while I prepare the medicines. You can assist him with cleaning, Roses. Once that’s been attended to, then we’ll wash the wounds with alcohol—which will likely cause him quite a bit of pain.
But it must be done. Perhaps we’ll summon some assistance—he might need to be held down. ”
Wilkie eyed Ismay. “That won’t be necessary.”
Ismay ignored this, having treated many equally severe wounds and also witnessing the reactions to certain methods of treatment. “His brothers might be called for. Then I’ll treat and wrap the wounds. And we can administer several tinctures that will help prevent the fever.”
She poured a cup of whiskey, handing it to Wilkie. “Drink this,” she said.
“All of it?” I asked.
“Aye,” confirmed Ismay. “It will dull his pain when I treat his wounds.”
Wilkie tipped back the drink.
“Here is some medicinal soap,” Ismay said, handing me a small brown cake. “It shouldn’t sting too much. That will come later.”