Glens of Stone, Day 30

The second and third cannonballs careened down the Lawnmarket, throwing the crowds into a panic.

Outside, Ewan took off his cloak and strode up to a barricade manned by a group of Highlanders. Seeing his uniform, they let him pass and he made his way forward to the castle gatehouse. His sword scabbard slapping his thigh, Ewan veered towards a corporal. “I am Major Ogilvie, Scots Royals. I have a message for General Guest from his Highness Prince Charles Edward Stuart.”

The soldier licked his lips nervously. “We have orders to admit no one.”

“What’s going on, Corporal?” Robert Marshall appeared through the gate. Quickly the soldier explained. Robert saluted Ewan reluctantly.

“You have some nerve, sir,” he said, glowering. “I should have you clapped in irons right here and now.”

“I’d run you through if you attempted such a thing, Captain. Besides I’ve come, though I don’t carry one, under a white flag.”

Robert regarded him coolly. “The general is inspecting the gun batteries at present, Major.”

“My orders are to speak with him,” Ewan persisted. Robert’s thoughts were teeming. Was it wise to admit this man?

Was he here to spy on the garrison? On the other hand, he would make a good hostage.

Unease

He waved Ewan forward. They marched swiftly through the precincts until they emerged into a compound where, to Ewan’s unease, a line of cannons was trained down Castle Hill.

General Guest was making his way unsteadily from one to the next. Catching sight of the two men, he moved towards them.

“What’s this, Captain?” He stared at Ewan’s uniform. “Since when do we entertain a rebel?”

“Sir, this is Major Ogilvie. He is an emissary of the, er, Regent.”

“That young upstart?” He scowled at Ewan. “Well, what’s so important, man?”

“His Highness wishes to know if you will surrender the castle as he asked.”

Guest snorted, his face livid. “This castle is held in the King’s name and we will die rather than surrender it!” Ewan inclined his head.

“I expected such a response, sir, and accept that honour allows no other.”

The general’s face darkened. “I doubt if honour is a word you and your renegades understand. Let me demonstrate my intent, Major,” he cried. “Captain, give the order to fire!”

“But, sir,” Robert stammered, pointing to the teeming street far below. “They are mostly civilians!”

“Do as you are ordered!” the old man thundered. “The Prince knows I’ve threatened a salvo or two.”

“Just as he knows the palace is outwith the reach of your guns,” Ewan protested. “Marshall, I gave you an order!”

Annoyed at the captain’s hesitation, Guest pushed him aside. “Commence firing!” he bellowed.

Seconds later there was a deafening roar as the first ball whistled downwards to plough into a low wall at the far end of Castle Hill.

The second and third cannonballs careened down the Lawnmarket, throwing the crowds into panic. Screams rose as further missiles hurtled down. “Cease fire!” Guest smiled grimly. “Well, Major, what do you think of my response to the Prince’s demands?”

“Seldom have I seen an act of such barbarism.” Ewan could not hide his disgust. General Guest flushed.

“We are at war, Major Ogilvie. Perhaps the Pretender will have second thoughts now and retreat.” Grim-faced, he turned to Robert.

“Have this man escorted from the castle. And on your return report to me to explain why you should not face a military court for refusing to obey my orders!”

Protection

It was as they neared the sentries that Ewan stealthily withdrew the dagger from his belt and touched its point to Robert’s back.

“We are leaving together, Captain,” he whispered. “Tell the guards.”

“For mercy’s sake, your men will kill me! A Redcoat tunic will incite them.”

“You have my word no harm will come to you,” Ewan assured him. Outside, Robert prayed he could trust that assurance as a crowd pressed around him.

“Captain Marshall is under my protection!” Ewan shouted. The Highlanders saw the cold glint in his eyes and stood back.

Ewan pushed Robert forward through the piles of debris, and as he idly glanced to his left his heart nearly stopped when he saw the smoking remains of the tavern he’d been sitting in a mere half hour ago.

With immeasurable relief he spotted Sandy emerging from the ruins, his face blackened. The two men exchanged looks.

“Ellie?” Ewan asked. “Still in there.” Sandy pointed to the blackened interior.

“McCrae!” Robert stepped forward. “What are you doing here? And did you say Ellie Chalmers is inside?”

“Aye.” Sandy grunted. “You must be proud of yourself, firing on innocent folk.”

Ewan strode across to a group of onlookers and pointed to the ruins. “There are folk buried in there – seek them out.”

As the group set to, Ewan looked at Sandy. “I have to deliver the good captain, but I’ll be back,” he promised. He turned to Robert. “Follow me.”

To his relief, Robert found himself being bundled towards Lady Catherine’s doorway. At least he was to be with friends.

Weapon

Inside, McLaurin was waiting for them. “You have him safe?” she murmured.

“Aye. Your sword, Captain,” Ewan said. Reluctantly Robert surrendered his weapon before being locked in a well-furnished room.

“There’s bad news,” Ewan told McLaurin. “Ellie was in a tavern wrecked by the bombardment.” The old woman gasped. “’Twould be a cruel twist of fate if anything should befall the lass after all this time! Find her, Ewan, for mercy’s sake.”

Ewan thundered down the stairs and made haste back to the tavern, pushing into the dark interior. He made out a figure kneeling.

Sandy was cradling the head of someone lying on the floor. A stab of fear shot through Ewan. “Ellie,” he whispered, taking the girl’s hand. Again he said her name and her eyelids fluttered open. She seemed not to know them, but then a slow smile crossed her face. “Ewan,” she whispered. “Dinna fret; I’m all right.” But her eyes closed again and she grew limp. Quickly Ewan lifted her in his arms. “I must get her to Lady Catherine’s,” he said. “Fetch the doctor,” he told Sandy.

“Turner’s his name. You’ll find him in the Canongate near the Mission. And tell him he’ll ne’er treat another if he fails us!”

More tomorrow.

Glens of Stone was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Mandy Dixon