Page 5 of Highland Spy

Chapter 2

“Now where in the name of the devil did I put my cloak?” asked Bridget’s father as they added a few things to the travel bags attached to their horses for the journey to Hermitage Castle in the Lowlands. They were lucky to have escaped the bandits on the road but, in doing so, most of their belongings had been stolen. If they had been in a wagon instead of on their own horses, they never would have been able to outride the bandits. Only by throwing down some of their belongings to distract them, were they able to escape the men.

“Da, it’s right here,” said Bridget with a sigh, picking up the cloak and handing it to her father. “This is gettin’ bad,” she said, her eyes scanning the surroundings. “I dinna ken how much longer we’re goin’ to be able to hide the fact that ye can barely see.”

“Nay, we’re fine, Daughter.” Brigham reached out and took the cloak, patting her on the shoulder. “No one will ever have to ken.” He tried to don the cloak but couldn’t find the top. Bridget reached out and helped him, shaking it out and wrapping it around his shoulders. Even her father’s actions lately had become concerning to her. He also seemed to be forgetting simple things that would never have slipped his mind before. Something with his health had changed drastically in just the past few weeks.

“We are no’ fine, and ye ken it,” she told him. “We’ve managed to keep yer secret for now, but that Caleb MacKeefe is far too nosey and is always hangin’ around me and askin’ a lot of questions. I dinna want him comin’ with us to Hermitage Castle. It’s only goin’ to mean trouble.”

“Now, now, Bridget, ye’re overreactin’,” said Brigham, straightening out his cloak. “We could use the protection. So havin’ the MacKeefes along as escorts as we travel to the Lowlands is a guid thing. Besides, I like havin’ Caleb around. He’s funny. And that weasel of his is meddlesome but ye have to admit it’s cute.” He chuckled to himself as he tied closed his cloak at the neck. “Slink certainly does get into a lot of trouble.”

“It’s no’ goin’ to be funny when Caleb discovers what we’ve been tryin’ to hide and tells everyone – includin’ King Robert,” she said in a half-whisper. “And as for Caleb’s doitit weasel, did ye already forget it stole my best quill?”

“Ah, there ye are,” came Caleb’s voice from behind her as he walked into the stables. She cringed, wondering what the man wanted now.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked him, seeing him with a travel bag slung over one shoulder. His pine marten was cradled in the crook of his arm. “It’s been over an hour now and we should be on the road already.”

“Calm down, lass. We’re goin’ as soon as I return the last thing that Slink stole,” Caleb reported. “It took me a while to find everythin’. Guid thing I ken all of Slink’s favorite hidin’ spots,” he said with a chuckle. Reaching down into the bag he pulled out the feathered quill, holding it proudly in the air.

“My quill!” she cried, rushing over and snatching it from his hand. “The feathers are dirty and wet and the tip looks to be broken!” She scowled at him.

“Yer quill?” Caleb asked in question. “I thought it belonged to yer faither.”

“It does,” she said, feeling her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She had to be more careful with what she said. If not, he was going to discover that her father couldn’t see well enough close up to write the chronicles anymore. It had been her doing it in secret for quite some time now. No one, especially not the king, would ever accept the fact that a girl was acting as the Royal Chronicler. It was not allowed. And if they were caught, they were sure to be punished. “Here’s yer quill, Faither.” She turned and held it out to him. Her father walked over smiling, not even looking at the quill, probably because he couldn’t see it. He tripped on a bucket someone had left there, but righted himself quickly. Bridget closed her eyes and released a breath.

“Aye, everythin’ of mine I share with my daughter,” said the man. “So my quill is her quill, so to speak.”

“Ah, I see,” said Caleb, even though he didn’t sound like he understood it. “Well, here comes Logan and Rhoswen now, so we should get goin’. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

When Caleb turned to greet his friends, Bridget slipped the quill into the bag she carried on a long strap over her shoulder. In the bag were the ink and the book of the Highland Chronicles. She always kept this with her and was only thankful that the bandits hadn’t gotten hold of it. If so, her father would need to report it to the king and there was no telling if he’d be punished for losing it.

“Faither, quickly, get on the horse,” she whispered, guiding him to it and putting his hands on the saddle. Her father’s sight had been getting worse these past few months. He could still see far, but when it came to seeing things near him, he was worthless. Even since the last time they’d visited the MacKeefe camp a few months ago, her father had regressed. “Once ye’re atop the steed, stay close to me and yer horse will follow.”

“I’ll be fine once we’re on the open road,” he whispered back, climbing up into the saddle.

“Logan, let’s go,” shouted Caleb, mounting his horse and heading over to the stable door. Something made him glance back over his shoulder. When he did, he saw Bridget whispering to her father. Something was odd here, but he didn’t know what. He’d have to keep a close eye on those two.

“Och, Caleb, it seems we’re the ones waitin’ for ye, so stop yer bellowin’,” grumbled Logan. He and his new wife, Rhoswen, were atop their horses with their travel bags already packed for the journey. “Come on, Jack,” shouted Logan, and his wolf darted out of the shadows at a run. “Ye are no’ bringin’ that troublesome weasel with ye, are ye, Caleb?”

“My pine marten,” he said, stressing the words, “is goin’ on the trip whether ye like it or no’.” He opened the pouch he held and let Slink crawl out and settle atop his lap. “And for yer information, I found and returned everythin’ he stole.”

“Aye, and thank you,” said Rhoswen, in her English accent. “But it seems my husband, is still not wearing the braies you returned to him.” She winked at Logan and giggled.

“Only because they now need mendin’, thanks to Slink.” Logan turned his horse and rode off in a hurry with his wolf following right behind.

“Have a safe trip,” called out Clarista, the chieftain’s wife, waving at them from over by the campfire. “I gave Rhoswen some extra food since I know how you and Slink like to eat.” Clarista was another Sassenach. And old Ian’s son, Storm had married an Englishwoman as well, so the clan was truly mixed.

“Thank ye, Clarista,” Caleb called out, running a hand over his pine marten as it settled itself atop his lap. Usually Slink slept during the day and rode in the travel bag, being very calm and content atop the horse as Caleb was there, too.

“We’re ready,” announced Bridget, riding out of the stables slowly with her father on his horse right next to her.

“Well, if we’re goin’ to get there in two days’ time, ye’re goin’ to have to move a little faster than that,” said Caleb.

“Two days?” asked Bridget. “I thought it took three days to get to Hermitage Castle.”

“No’ the way I’m takin’. Now stay close to me and dinna lag behind. I’d hate for ye two to get lost or to be attacked by bandits again.”

“Dinna worry. We’ll be able to keep up,” said the girl, making Caleb groan inwardly as she fussed with her braids. She also kept looking over to her father and didn’t seem to pay much attention to Caleb at all. He could ride away right now and she’d never even notice.