They would head south, that much Finlay had gleaned, and meet up with other troops mustered at Earl John Randolph’s command.
They filtered out through the gate, and the sea spread before them, great and limitless and eternal. Love of Scotland seized Finlay’s heart. He undertook this for love of a woman, aye, but this place lay anchored almost as deep within him.
An ironic smile twisted his lips and words appeared in his mind.
The minstrel boy to war has gone,
In the ranks of death ye will find him.
His father’s sword he has girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him.
Nay, he was not the first to take this path, nor would he be the last.
They moved out so slowly, it seemed impossible they could ever march so far as England. Women and old men followed them, the women wanting last words with their men. The clinging of hands.
He had no idea where Katrin might be. He had lost track of her. Somewhere near the front, he did not doubt.
I will find ye. I will find ye always.
“Wha’ are ye doin’ here? Are ye no’ the harper?”
The man marching next to Finlay had light-brown hair and brown eyes. He carried a spear.
“Aye, so. I am going to war now.”
“Are no’ we all? D’ye ken how to fight?”
“I used to.”
A bright picture flashed into his mind.A far-off green land. An Erin chief declaring him first among his warriors. The unwanted glory and responsibility of it. His skill, inborn, came from the gods. He had never exercised it for gain.
He would not now, save for the gain of Katrin’s heart.
“Aye, well, I am more farmer than fighter, me, though they ha’ given us training, all o’ us fro’ a young age. I am hoping when we get to England there will be so many o’ us wild Scots, the English will turn butts and run. Aye? We will soon be home again.”
Finlay could not help but grin. “Aye.”
“Gregor is the name.” The fellow stuck out a broad hand.
“Finlay.”
“I ha’ heard o’ ye and the stories ye tell, though I was no’ there to hear them. Mayhap ye can tell some on the road, eh, to lighten the way?” Gregor’s face clouded. “I ha’ stayed much at home of late. My Kerra is to birth our first anytime. It has no’ gone well.”
An agony, to leave. The man could be no older than Finlay, quite likely younger.
“I hope for her sake and yours, we do come back soon.”
“We are to march south o’ Inverness first, so I hear, where Earl Randolph or his captains will collect us.”
It was more than Finlay knew.
Aye, well, anything could happen before they reached there. Those in high places could well change their minds. He prayed so.
That day, though, proved a slog. The mist lifted and a cool breeze chased them from the north. They walked and paused and moved on again while a sense of unreality rose to Finlay’s head.
Where was Katrin? He’d still had no glimpse of her. Did he occupy her thoughts even as she did his?
