“We should sacrifice a virgin, appease the barefoot man before it is too late.”
More agreement, this time louder.
“We cannot stay here.” This voice shrill, panicky, coming from the back of the room.
Cam stood up, raising his voice over the hubbub. “I am your Laird and I will have silence while I speak.”
The voices died down but the silence felt mutinous. He had never felt so out of control of his own clan. This was taking far more work than it had ever done before. Whoever was riling them up was doing a good job. It was all he could do to retain control over the mob.
“The patrols are due back any day. Until then, you must be patient and have faith in the strength of MacGregors, blessed by the Lord himself.”
“What about the prophecy?” a voice shouted from the back of the room. “A sacrifice will save us.”
“You ken as well as I ken that life is about the choices we make. No prophecy can overrule that.”
“Your father believed in the prophecy.”
“My father is dead and I am Laird now. He would have those who speak of running strung up by nightfall if they had not already died of shame for suggesting it. Let’s hear nae more talk of running south. What do you think waits you down there in English arms? A warm welcome? To the north may be unknown but to the south is death most certain at the hands of the Normans. None will find shelter in that direction.”
The door at the far end of the hall burst open and Tor appeared, shouting across to him. “They have caught a deserter, my Laird.”
Cam pushed back his seat, crossing the room quickly. “We will continue this discussion later,” he said to the clan as he went. He left them talking loudly as he followed Tor out to the courtyard.
“It was Martin,” Tor said as they went. “Ran from the patrol. They got word to us just now from Wicke.”
“I will deal with him at once. Any word of the rest of the patrol? What of Angus? It would take a dozen men to bring him down.”
“He says they were all wiped out.”
“A likely story. Get my horse ready.”
“Already done.”
“Then I shall see you soon, God willing.”
They shook hands before Cam crossed to the stables where his horse was waiting.
Harry was standing proud, a huge black destrier none would dare try to ride except Cam. Straining against the stable-boys, four of them held him in place as Cam climbed onto his back. “Come on then,” he said, “let’s stretch our legs.”
The stable-boys let go and then he was off, wind in his face as he rode out of the castle and headed rapidly north. Harry threw up great clods of earth behind them as together they made rapid progress to the village of Wicke.
They were there within an hour. Martin was being held in the blacksmith’s cage. “That’s not been needed since my father’s days,” Cam said to Martin as he brought his horse to a stop. “What did you think you were doing? You ken the penalty for deserting a patrol.”
“Death is coming,” Martin shrieked, his hands gripping the bars tightly. “It’s coming for you all. You must run before it’s too late.”
“You will join me back to the castle,” Cam replied. “You will face justice there and can make your case as you see fit.”
Cam nodded to the blacksmith who unlocked the cage. “Out you come,” the blacksmith said, poking Martin with a long stick.
Martin looked warily around him as if he thought it might be a trap. Then he immediately took off, twisting away from the blacksmith’s reaching arms, sprinting up the hill that led away from the village as if it were no hill at all.
Cam swore as he leaped back onto his horse, giving chase at once. Martin had no chance against a destrier yet he almost made it, running without pause until he reached the top of the hill, skidding to a halt at the edge of the crag.
The sheer escarpment looked down onto the icy cold loch far below. Martin stood on the very edge looking back at his Laird. “You have to run,” he said, a note of pleading in his voice. “Before it’s too late. He’ll kill you all.”
“Come back with me,” Cam said. “I swear you will have fair trial before your peers.”
“You dinnae understand,” Martin said, his eyes wild. He was foaming at the mouth as he spat out the words. “ You cannae stop him. He’s no man at all. He’s a demon.”
