Chapter 12 #2
"The riders are ready below," Duncan said quietly, dusting a fine layer of sand over the document to dry the remaining ink before folding it tight. "I chose Colin and young Jamie."
Fearchar raised an eyebrow, leaning his forearms onto the desk. "Jamie? He’s barely nineteen."
"He kens every deer path between here and the Tay," Duncan answered, slipping the sealed parchment into an oilskin sleeve to protect it against the Highland rain.
"And more importantly, he daesnae look like a laird's messenger. If Robert’s scouts spot two men on mountain ponies wearing rough wool, they'll think they're drovers pushing cattle. "
Fearchar stood up, the heavy wood of his chair scraping softly against the stone floorboards. He walked over to the narrow window, looking down into the inner courtyard.
Below, in the darkening shadows of the curtain wall, two horses stood saddled.
Their stirrup irons were wrapped in oiled rags to deaden the clatter against stone, their bridles plain hemp instead of silver-studded leather.
Two young men in mud-splattered plaids stood by their mounts' heads, checking the cinch straps in tight, disciplined silence.
"Call them up," Fearchar commanded.
Moments later, the heavy oak door opened again, and the two young riders stepped into the solar, pulling their bonnets from their heads. Colin was stocky and broad-shouldered with a weathered face; Jamie was leaner, his eyes wide and bright with the nervous energy of youth.
Fearchar didn't stay behind his desk. He walked down the two steps, stopping directly in front of the pair. He reached out, his broad hand coming down heavily on Jamie’s shoulder. The boy straightened instantly under the weight.
"This parchment goes tae the Lord Chancellor at Holyrood Palace," Fearchar said, his grey eyes locked onto the young rider’s face, his tone quiet, absolute, and devoid of grand rhetoric.
"It carries the King's seal and me name.
If it reaches Edinburgh, the Crown recognizes Strathglass as legally secure under me house.
Robert Cameron becomes an outlaw the moment the royal court reads it. "
"We'll ride hard, me laird," Colin said, touching his knuckle to his temple. "We can be past Perth in four days."
"Ye will nae take the south road," Fearchar interrupted sharply, his voice cutting like a blade.
Both riders blinked in surprise.
"Robert has men at Glen Cannich," Fearchar continued, turning his gaze toward the window that faced the southern hills.
"He kens as well as I dae that our first move is Edinburgh. He’ll have scouts watching the main pass at the Great Glen and the ford at Spey.
If ye take the highway, ye'll be strung up from an oak tree before midnight. "
He stepped closer, pointing a long finger toward the east. "Ye take the high ridge past the black loch.
Cut through the pine forests of Glen Affric, cross the high pass above the clouds, and dinnae come down tae the low country until ye're well past Cameron territory.
Ride by night. Nay fires. If ye see smoke on the horizon, ye circle five miles wide. "
Jamie swallowed hard, his throat working, but he nodded firmly. "Aye, me laird."
"If Robert’s men catch ye," Fearchar added, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with stark truth, "ye destroy the parchment. Ye burn it, ye eat it, ye drop it in a roaring burn, whatever ye must dae so it daes nae fall intae his hands. Dae ye understand me?"
"On me life, Laird Fearchar," Colin swore quietly, patting the oiled leather pouch tucked inside his tunic.
Fearchar looked at them both for a long, heavy second, seeing the quiet resolve in their young faces, the same resolve he had seen in a hundred young men in the western trenches. He reached out, shaking both their hands with a firm, crushing grip.
"Go," Fearchar murmured. "And keep tae the shadows."
The two men bowed quickly, turned on their heels, and slipped back out the door, their soft leather boots making no sound against the stone corridor. Duncan followed them down to the courtyard to oversee their departure.
Fearchar remained standing by the narrow window embrasure, leaning one forearm against the cold stone frame.
Outside, the last rays of the setting sun had died away, leaving the sky a bruised, deep violet above the black silhouettes of the mountains. Below, in the courtyard, the heavy timber gates creaked open just wide enough for two horses to pass through.
Colin and Jamie led their mounts out into the dark, stepping quietly across the drawbridge without a single lantern to light their way.
The heavy gates groaned shut behind them, the iron bolts sliding home with a dull, final thud.
Fearchar watched the darkness beyond the walls. The two riders vanished almost instantly into the thick pine forests.
He stayed by the window long after the sound of their horses' hooves had faded into the rushing roar of the distant river. The parchment was away. If the King’s clerk registered the union, Robert Cameron’s rebellion would be stripped of every shred of legal pretense, leaving him nothing more than a common bandit in the eyes of the law.
Fearchar drew a long, deep breath of the cold mountain air, his fingers tightening against the stone sill. It was a race now between the king’s parchment riding south, and Robert Cameron’s poison spreading through the glens.