April 28, 1746 Isle of Treshnish
Mari clenched her teeth, anguished in the grips of labor. Her mother was wiping her forehead, trying to stay out of the midwife’s way. Catriona stood at the door, wringing her hands, looking frantically at her mistress. “Word is, the English are no more than a day’s ride from Oban. They could be here any day!” she said, frustrated with herself for not being able to offer more help than to alert their pending doom at the hands of the English.
“One more, lassie! There ye go, almost. Aye, aye! Keep pushing!” said the midwife, keeping up a steady litany of encouragement.
Mari let go a horrific wail.
“Oh, aye! Here comes the head. One more heave, lassie! There!” shouted the midwife triumphantly. “Och, look lass, ye just birthed a wee baby boy!”
Mari tried to feel relieved, but then, barely moments later, she felt the contractions start up again. “Sweet Jesus,” she wheezed, looking up at her mother. “What’s amiss?”
The midwife’s eyes lit up. “Och, lass, keep at it. I think ye may have twins on the way!”
Mari pushed again for another twenty minutes, and at last, another head emerged. This time, a baby girl.
~//~
They barely had time to swaddle the newborns before soldiers arrived at the door.
There were naught but women and children in the house, and each one ready to defend herself and her bairns to the death.
“All rebels outside!” yelled the commanding officer from the front door.
Mari’s mother, Mrs. Duncan, was the first to protest. “We here are none of us rebels. Ye’ve already butchered or imprisoned our men, why canna ye leave us be?”
“Blood’s blood and you’re all rebels far as the Crown can see. We’re to leave no wife or daughter or even sweetheart of a rebel left on the isles. But you are merely wanted for questioning. Your necks are safe for now.”
Most all the women were in the front room, ready to do battle for the wee bairns that lay just beyond a door. But Mari wasn’t willing to wait and argue for the lives of her children. Sore and weak as she was, she managed to wrap the two bairns in a sash and carried them about her neck. She could barely walk, but her mother’s instinct was intent on survival. With a heave and a low grunt of pain, she managed to get out of the low window and down into the yard. She saw trees ahead and hoped they would bring her safety.
Mari felt tears burn in her eyes at the pain she was in, and looked briefly down at her babes. “See the bairn safe,” Robert had said. Well, there were two bairns now, and no doubt Robert would want both of them as far away from the English as possible. As she limped down the yard, she felt something warm ease down her leg, and wondered only vaguely if it was blood.
“It doesna matter,” she said to herself through clenched teeth, a steely taste in her mouth. “I will see them come to no harm. No’ while I have breath!”
She tripped on a rock, falling, and for a brief, horrible moment wondered if she had crushed her babes. But they were wailing away, proof enough of life.
“I suspect feeding time is soon, wouldn’t you?” said a terribly clipped English voice from behind. She heard a pistol cock behind her, and wondered if this is how it would all end.
She turned around slowly, dreading what would meet her. It was a dragoon, alone. And in her state, he was one too many.
“What kind of man are ye now, to point a pistol at a lady with bairns?” she said, her voice rumbling low with fear and anger.
He grunted a laugh but kept the pistol pointed at her. “Oh, I know all about a woman’s instinct to protect her children. I see you were even willing to abandon your other womenfolk in the quest.”
She glared at him, still on her knees at his feet, her babes swinging under her arms in the slings. “What will happen to them?” she asked quietly.
“Pardon me, what did you say? I didn’t quite hear?” he asked, evidently enjoying his power over her.
She gritted her teeth, being in entirely too much pain to put up with his taunting. “You kent bloody weel what I said, lad. Now tell me.”
“Oh, I suspect the officers will have their way with the whores, as well as they deserve. Perhaps they’ll end up in prison or even----“
He didn’t see it coming. He was too wrapped up in his own self not to see her lunge at his calf and sink her teeth into it.
“Bloody bitch!” he shouted, the gun shooting off into the air. He slapped her to the ground and she protectively fell over her daughter, her son swinging between her arms. She was horribly weak and suddenly very dizzy and tired.
Moments later, a few other dragoon soldiers arrived.
“What have you found Lieutenant?” asked the commander.
“A bloody bitch what bit me,” he said tersely.
“Jesus,” breathed the commander. “The women said the girl had just birthed twins… My God, what have you done to her?”
“Only what she deserves,” he muttered.
Because the commander showed just an ounce of compassion, with a little effort, Mari managed to sit up a little to say, “Please, sir. Don’t hurt my babes…” before she fell into oblivion.
~//~
When Mari awoke, she was alone. Even her babes were gone. She looked around desperately, horrified, and began to weep as helplessness took over. She didn’t know what had happened, but a sickening feeling was in her stomach and she feared the worst.
“No!” she whimpered, her hands fisting in the grass beside her. “Not my bairns! They couldn’t have taken my bairns!” she sobbed wearily.
Somehow Mari managed to stand. Though still hurt, she summoned what little strength she had to stumble back to the house, hoping that somehow, she'd find her wee ones.
Her eyes were now dry, but only because the pain and fear in her breast went deeper than tears. She only kept hearing Robert’s command, like a litany, over and over in her mind. Keep the bairn safe. Keep the bairn safe!
She at last made it back to the cottage, finding it deserted. She wondered how long she had been lying on the ground, unconscious.
“Hallo? Anyone here?” she called weakly, leaning against the door frame, her voice tired and crackly.
She heard a noise from the bedroom, and wished to God she had some sort of weapon to hand. If it were an English soldier behind that door---
But it wasn’t. It was Catriona. She appeared suddenly, looking a fright. Her bodice was torn and her hair a mess. Blood was drying on her lip, and her left eye looked as if it’d been struck. But Mari could tell by looking in her eyes that something much worse had happened to the poor girl.
“Oh, Cat!” she cried, heading towards her, limping forward despite her own pain. The two women embraced, each taking strength in the other’s presence.
“What happened, lass? Can ye no’ tell me?” Mari asked softly.
At last Catriona nodded and led them to a small sofa.
Tears began again, but at last she began to speak. “Yer bairns are safe, ma’am. At least when they left here, I kent that they would be safe.”
Mari grabbed Catriona’s hand and squeezed it in appreciation.
“And the others?” Mari asked, bracing herself.
“They were all taken for questioning. None were harmed, save---“ but she couldn’t finish.
Mari drew the girl closer, sighing. She knew what the girl had faced, her worst fear since the same had happened to the girl’s mother years ago.
“Lass, I know it’s hard. But ye must get the words out. Ye must tell me what happened. Otherwise, it will eat at ye, as ye live it over and over. Now, tell me.”
Catriona began to sob, and Mari thought she wouldn’t hear what she knew the girl had to say. But at last, in halting words, the girl spoke.
“Most of the women were taken out to the wagon, a few of the others they actually let go, as they had no family in the area, so the soldiers didn’t think they were connected with the Jacobites. Which surprised us all… I think the commander is a good man, loath as I am to say it about an Englishman.”
“Aye,” Mari said encouragingly.
“Well, I stayed behind, afraid to face the s-soldiers. I went into the bedroom and hid in the closet, cursing myself for a coward. Then, I heard footsteps. A soldier, I knew. I held my breath, but he found me.”
She shivered close to Mari. She told the rest calmly and distantly, as if it hadn’t happened to her. “He came at me, taunting me. Then he swung at me, and pulled me to him. He hurt me, ripping my bodice. And then he began to—to—“
“Ye can stop there, child. I kent what the man did,” Mari interrupted, contradicting herself because she couldn’t bear to hear more. Then Mari had a sudden thought. A chill went up her spine. “What did the man look like, lass?”
“Verra tall, dark hair and hateful, keen eyes… But he wasna able to---well, he didn’t finish, I guess is the word. The commander came in and reprimanded him sorely. He shouted, ‘Didn’t you have your fill of rape under Cumberland’s command? Get off her, man! Now! When we get back to London, I’ll deal with you.’ And so they left.”
The women were silent a moment, each lost in thought. Mari shivered as she realized the man who raped Cat was probably the same man who she met outside, and would have meant to do the same to her, even in her state. Then Mari spoke, lighting on the one thing Cat said that might give them their next option. “Catriona, do ye ken whether they were heading straight to London? I mean, was that their immediate destination?”
Catriona thought a moment, and then shook her head. “No, I remember now… The commander had told the women that they would all be brought into questioning in Edinburgh.”
“Aye?” Mari said, thinking. She reached for the locket that usually hung between her breasts, thinking on the secrets it contained, and was shocked to suddenly find it gone.
“Cat! My locket, did ye see anyone take it off me during the birthing?”
“No, why? What’s so important about a wee locket?”
Mari got up and began searching the bedroom, stumbling over furniture in her weakened state. It wasn’t to be found. “That ‘wee locket’ has a map to the Stuart treasure! Grant it, it’s a wee bit vague, and hopefully the English wouldn’t piece the puzzle together, but it’s verra important!”
Mari, feeling moved to purpose, though still horribly sore, motioned to Catriona. “Come lass, let’s to Duart. We’re off to Edinburgh to save my bairns and find that locket.”
“And my lord? Aye? We should look for him.”
Cat saw for the first time a look of fear in Mari’s eyes. “Aye,” she said softly. “But only if I find my bairns. I dinna think I could face him otherwise.”
~//~
Edinburgh
Edinburgh Castle, May 2, 1746
Robert cursed himself for a fool. Not only was Hector arrested for being an accomplice with the Jacobites, but he himself now faced charges. He was tucked away in Edinburgh Castle, with nary a way to get word to Mari. He felt his heart in his throat at the thought of her. Had she fared well birthing their child? Was she safe from the English? He thought of those last hurried hours and prayed the gold would be safe. They had hidden the gold, putting a map-- or more like a key-- to its location in Mari’s locket. Only the most astute would be able to decipher the candid symbol he had scribbled. But regardless, the gold was useless to him now. He was stuck here in this prison till the Last Trumpet for all he knew. He looked down at Maclean’s ring, which he had hidden from the guards when he was arrested, and wondered what had become of Hector.
Most of the Jacobite prisoners had either been hanged or deported, and he dreaded what he may face because they were taking so long in deciding what to do with him. If anything’s worse than certain death, then it’s uncertain death. Once again, he was drawn to the tiny slit at the top of his cell. He couldn’t reach to see what happened in the courtyard, but he could hear well enough the foreboding sound of drums. More than likely, another execution. He crossed himself, and said a prayer for the poor soul dying at the hands of the English. He strained to see if he could hear anything else from the courtyard. Sometimes, if the wind was just right, he could catch a name here and there. He had memorized the few he had heard: Edward Mackenzie, Hamish Stewart, Angus Fraser, Alexander Duggan, and Dougal MacNab. None he knew personally, but he kept the names safe in his memory in case someone ever needed to know what had happened to their kinsman.
“—tor Maclean,” he heard borne on the wind. He sat up straighter, feeling a knife in his gut. Were they executing Hector? Oh, God! Robert thought about when he first arrived in Edinburgh, trying to seek where Hector Maclean might be. He had knocked on one door too many, for the magistrate got word of his inquiry and arrested him along with the other Jacobites. But as far as Robert knew, Hector wasn’t even aware he was there… and Robert wished he could offer him that solace, that a kinsman was present to offer some comfort at such a time.
Then Robert heard his own name being called, and strained to hear more…
~//~
“Do you know the prisoner Robert Maclean?” asked the guard of Hector.
Hector had a look of shock upon his face, and then shook his head.
“He is held prisoner here, for seeking you, a known Jacobite. Do you have anything to say in his defense before you are executed?”
Hector didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He deduced that the only reason Robert would have sought him here was because his father was dead, which was a devastating enough blow. But what could Hector say in Robert’s defense, to save him from the same fate he himself now faced?
“The lad has a wife and a wee bairn on the way, sir,” he said quietly.
“Could you speak English, sir?” said the guard with boredom.
“Robert Maclean has a wife and a child, sir,” he answered, his voice thick with emotion.
“I don’t care for the man’s marital status. What the Crown wants to know is if he was party to the rebellion on Culloden Field. Now, answer! You are already condemned, so your answer cannot save you. Talk!”
Hector swallowed, already feeling the noose about his neck that was to end his life in a matter of moments. Aye, he was a condemned man, but Robert wasn’t, not yet.
“Tell us why he was seeking you here.”
Hector thought a moment, and blessed his people for being so canny. He eyed the magistrate keenly and began a spiel he hoped would save Robert’s life. “Sir, Robert Maclean was never on Culloden Field,” he began clearly. “It would take a good week to reach Mull from Culloden, and then at least another week to reach Edinburgh. He was sighted here in the city no more than a week and a few days after Culloden, searching for me. And it was noted by many people that he had been searching for me here for a number of days. It would be impossible for him to have been to all three locales in such a short interval. I ken he was at Mull because he wouldna have cause otherwise to seek me unless something happened to my father. And as man doesna travel fast in the Highlands, word does. No doubt word of my father falling in battle fled like fire from crofter to villager’s tongue and reached Robert on Mull. Then, he took it upon himself to inform me of my father’s death. No’ an incriminating task, tho’ be it an unpleasant one. Sir, the man is innocent.”
~//~
No more than ten minutes after Hector’s execution were the soldiers in Robert’s cell, questioning him.
“You swear that you had no part in the rebellion at Culloden Field?”
Robert felt his palms sweat. How could he lie? How could he not own up to the same fate as his countrymen? Wasn’t it his fate to die for the cause? He sighed deeply, and thought of Mari and the child. Hector had given him an out, made him innocent in the eyes of the law. Could he let that be in vain? All for the sake of the truth?
Finally he shook his head no. Resigned, but sick to death with the lying. It was only the hope of seeing Mari’s face again that made him do it. To see her and their wee bairn… He would lie for them now, when he hadn’t sacrificed for them before. Mari was right, he should have taken the gold like John had intended.
“All right, you are to swear to the Crown and give us the names of at least three other Jacobites. It’s your bail, in a sense,” smiled an officer kindly.
These English had no mercy. First he was to betray himself and now his friends!
“What am I to swear to?” he asked cautiously.
“Can you read?” asked the officer doubtfully.
Robert nodded curtly. “Aye.”
“Then read this aloud and sign it,” he said, handing him a parchment.
Robert took the paper and read it, his belly turning in disgust at each word. “I, Robert Maclean, do hereby renounce the Jacobite Cause. If ever I took part in its Efforts, I regret my Actions in any and all part to usurp the Crown. Forthwith, I will proclaim my Allegiance to King George of England, acknowledging Their Divine Right to rule over all of Great Britain. In return, I will keep my Lands and my Family shall live in Peace.”
He stumbled a bit at the last, but read clearly. And it was the last bit that got him to sign his name to the cursed document. I will keep my lands and my family shall live in peace. Christ! What sacrifice!
And after he had signed his name, they again asked him to name three other Jacobites. So he thought a moment and then answered with a slight smile, “William Wallace, Robert Roy MacGregor, and… Charles Edward Stuart.”
Suddenly a knife was at his throat. “Sir, this is not a game. Answer, or that document is null and void. And then we will hunt down every one of your kinsman till you are wiped from the face of this earth.”
He nodded, and the man with the knife relented, letting Robert speak. “I dinna know anyone, and anyone I may know is either dead or arrested already, or more than likely one or the other.” Then he sat up. Of course! The list of those who died since he’d been in prison, he’d name three of those names, and by the time they figured out they were all executed prisoners, he’d be miles away!
“Actually, I do ken some names,” he began carefully, not wanting to sound too practiced. For he had said the names to himself, over and over in the prison, praying for those men’s lives… “They are Aeonghas Friseal, Dùghall Mac an Aba, and… Alasdair Dubhagan.”
He gave them their Gaelic names, spelling them each out carefully. And he felt it was somehow a tribute to those men, to make these English pigs suffer through the slippery Gaelic to eventually realizing they’d been tricked. Hopefully they wouldn’t find out until Robert was quite on his way. But the guards were just happy to have three more names to hunt, that they didn’t stop to wonder who these men might be to Robert.
“All right, Mr. Maclean. You’re a free man.”
