When it was time to go, MacLeod gave a few further instructions before giving their traditional parting:“Bàs roimh Gèill.”Death before surrender. To Highlander warriors there was no other choice. They would succeed or die trying. Death held no fear for them. To Highlanders there was no greater glory than dying on a battlefield.
Leaving the two warriors to their icy swim, the rest of the party rode east, skirting the sleeping English army camped along the eastern bank of the river to block the causeway. When they reached a small wooded hill—the site of an ancient ring fort—MacLeod gave the signal to stop. From here they would launch their attack.
Stretched out between them and the river-bound castle lay a wide expanse of boggy marshland, the ground hardened and grasses browned by the cold breath of winter. Though darkness and mist shrouded the English army from view, their presence—sleeping or nay—was evident in the sounds and smells that carried through the night. Piss and shite from fifteen hundred men left its mark.
The enemy was close. No more than a furlong away. But every man there knew the importance of silence. For their plan to have any chance of succeeding, they must have surprise on their side.
For nearly a half-hour no one said a word as they waited for dawn to break and MacLeod to give the signal. Like a horse chomping at the bit, Magnus could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood surging as every instinct clamored to begin.
At last it came. When the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness, MacLeod raised his hand and motioned forward. Magnus and the other members of the Highland Guard took their positions in the front and slowly made their way downhill, using the thick curtain of mist to shield their approach.
The English were rousing. Magnus could hear the sounds of voices, punctuated by the clamor of mail and men moving about. He felt the familiar dead calm come over him. His mind cleared, his pulse slowed, and everything seemed to move at half the speed of normal.
MacLeod signaled for them to stop. Again they waited. More anxiously this time, as every minute the cold light of day strengthened all around them. Worse—disastrously worse—the mist that had seemed so thick only moments before, the mist that could be counted on to stay till midmorning, started to lift. The shield that would hide their presence and their numbers was about to disappear. In a few minutes they would be exposed.
Their dangerous plan had been shot to hell. They were about to become target practice for thousands of English soldiers.
Magnus could see from the look exchanged by MacLeod and MacLean that they were thinking the same thing: how much longer could they wait to see whether MacSorley and MacRuairi had succeeded?
Finally, they heard the surprised shouts from the English as Edward Bruce’s army began to fire arrows on them, engaging them from the front.
MacSorley and MacRuairi had done it! They had their distraction. As the English rushed to get into position, the Highland Guard attacked. But without the mist to hide them, they had to rely on the one thing that they had left: terror.
With a battle cry to chill the blood of any mortal man, they drove into the flank of the English army with a savage ferocity, cutting down everything in their path. The startled cries reverberated through the icy morning. Before the English could mount a defense, the Highland Guard, with Douglas’s men behind them, had turned around to charge again. They sent the knights reeling and bored through the foot soldiers like a stake, splintering the carefully positioned army into chaos. The English army had broken.
Christ, MacLean’s plan had worked! Magnus felt a jolt of victory surge through him, as he saw the causeway left unprotected.
MacLeod shouted to MacGregor to light the signal, and a moment later an arrow shot across the sky in a flaming arch.
As soon as the English started to scatter, the Highland Guard moved into position near the causeway, creating a line of defense for Edward Bruce’s men to leave the island, while Douglas and his men kept up the terrifying assaults on the fleeing English.
But something was wrong. Bruce’s men weren’t coming.
He heard Gordon shout beside him. “The river!”
In between thrusts and blows, Magnus glanced toward the castle.
Ah hell. The mist that had shrouded their attack had also shrouded another: The sea assault they feared had arrived. Three—nay, four—English galleys were approaching the sea-gate, raining a stream of arrows down on any man who tried to venture out of the castle gate. In a few minutes English soldiers would be pouring off those galleys, able to block any attempt by Edward Bruce to escape. There was the added danger of the fleeing English soldiers realizing what was happening and turning around. Fear would no longer obscure their smaller numbers.
“Chief!” Gordon shouted. “Over there.”
MacLeod had seen the same thing they had. “Go,” he said to Magnus and Gordon, understanding the unspoken request. “Take Ranger and Arrow with you.”
They didn’t hesitate. The four men shot across the causeway, heading for the castle, situated on the far side of the islet.
The boats had already started to pull into the jetty under the partially dismantled sea-gate. Ironically, Edward Bruce’s slighting of the castle a few months ago left him in the position of being unable to defend his position.
But as the sea-gate was located on the far side of the castle, the English arrows were now out of range of the causeway, giving them a small chance of escape. MacRuairi and MacSorley had realized the same thing. Magnus could see them ahead, ordering Edward’s army to run.
The burned-out shell of the castle loomed in front of them. Most of the wooden outer buildings had been burned to the ground, including large sections of the wooden palisade that surrounded the bailey. Only part of the stone tower remained.
The English started to pour into the bailey from the sea-gate, stalling the efforts of MacRuairi and MacSorley to get Edward’s men out.
“The tower,” Gordon said. “The wall will block them.”
Magnus took one look and understood. If Gordon placed his powder under one of the partially destroyed walls, it would crumble right into the path of the English. Even if it didn’t block them entirely, it would give MacSorley and MacRuairi added time to clear all of the men from the island trap.
Magnus nodded, and quickly told Campbell and MacGregor what they intended to do while Gordon removed an ember from one of the braziers and used it to light a torch.
