Chapter 21 #3
We walked through the crowd surrounding George and his men. The horses began sidling, ears flat, and George looked up and saw me coming. He laid a hand on his horse’s neck to soothe it and raised his eyebrows at me.
‘I wanted to say goodbye,’ I said.
George’s eyes flickered over all the people standing around and beckoned me closer.
I went as close as I dared, because my proximity was making his horse swivel into half-rears and I had the feeling that only the fact that one of the foot soldiers was holding the bridle was keeping it from bolting out through the postern and down the track.
George leaned over the sweating neck. ‘You talked a lot of sense,’ he half whispered, under cover of soothing the horse. ‘I look forward to Scotland’s freedom.’ Then he winked at me.
‘You’re leaving Jamie here?’ I tried to avoid the impossibility of being trodden on as the horse was almost manic with fear now and only George’s horsemanship and the ferocious hold on the bridle was keeping him from being dumped on the muddy ground.
‘He’ll follow later. He’s to spend Christmas with us: his sister and our girls. Poor Jamie, his father lost all his inheritance to gambling after Isobel and I were married. He likes to play King of the Castle here, I’m well aware, and who would begrudge him his little pleasures when he has so few?’
He tightened his grip on the reins, tipped his hat to me with one finger, and then turned to his men.
‘We ride.’ He touched silver spurs to his horse, although I had no idea why as the beast was so insane at my presence that it would have launched itself off the cliff at a whisper, and the small party moved forward.
Two soldiers rode a distance in front with George, upright and secure despite the plunging beast, bringing up the rear.
Jamie did not come to wish him well. Out of the corner of my eye I could still see him over at the old gatehouse. He stood alone, almost as though nobody wanted to be associated with him.
‘Well, that’s that, then.’ Mal, David and Kaylinn joined us. I could see the small child tussling with the goat, which was still trying to get to Mal. Kenna took the rope to help and the pair of them fought the surprisingly strong creature.
‘Looks like it.’ David’s voice was flat. Kaylinn started to cry again.
‘You said we’d go back.’ Mal sounded fierce.
‘I want Mom!’ Kaylinn wailed. ‘And I have to be at Ashleigh’s wedding!’
I just stood, my arms loose by my sides. I had nothing to offer that would make this all right.
The riders had reached the postern now. They stopped to allow the two soldiers leading the way to thread individually through and to start down the steep cliffside path.
George paused here to address the men staying behind, giving them what looked like a rousing speech.
There were a few cheers and some noisy leave-taking, caps were waved and a general air of bonhomie and joy pervaded, which was presumably relief that battle wasn’t going to be in their near future.
Before his entrance into the tunnel of the postern, George turned in his saddle and his eyes found me, his smile broadened and he touched his hat to me again in a jaunty way that onlookers would have taken as him bidding farewell to the castle. Only I knew it was meant for me.
I raised my hand and waved. As I did so, something moved over at the gatehouse and caught my attention.
It was Jamie. Half hidden by the ruined stonework and leaning out so that he had a direct line of sight around the headland to the postern gate, he was brandishing something metallic that gleamed in what little sunlight filtered between the clouds.
And still I didn’t understand what I was looking at, not until I heard the gunfire, an odd boom of a noise, and I saw the cloud of smoke rise from where Jamie was leaning out of the gatehouse now, trying to shoot across to the postern track.
Even then I assumed he was firing a salute, because nobody really seemed to react.
It was only when he came running, his black coat flapping out behind him like devil’s wings, reloading his pistol as he came, that I realised it was more.
‘What is he doing?’ We all turned to watch as Jamie moved, fleet-footed, barging his way through the attendant crowds who were now returning to their tasks.
Some looked up but quickly averted their eyes, bending their heads to show that they saw nothing, afraid to be seen to notice what was going on.
Their posture spoke loudly of not interfering with the gentry for fear of the consequences. Maybe they hadn’t heard the gunfire.
Whatever their reasons, nobody even attempted to question Jamie.
He tore across the yard, past the milking women and the uppity goat towards the postern gate, where George rode alone, having allowed his soldiers to go on ahead presumably to check that the track was clear of whatever might cause danger on a one-in-four descent apart from the descent itself.
As he sped past us, I saw the ornate pistol casual in Jamie’s hand and I just knew…
‘He’s going to kill George!’