Page 34 of Highlander’s Sloth

Battle and Siege

The old footman could barely breathe, he had ridden back to the lodge so fast.

“Sir,” he wheezed to Callum, “we saw them. They are here—well, no’ here, but only a few hours’ march away at the very least!”

Callum patted the old man’s arm and offered him his water flask. The footman took a thirsty swig of the water, wiped his lips, and continued saying while handing the flask back to his master, “They are all on foot, no horse, and MacEnroe and meself counted around one hundred spears.”

Callum thought to himself that even fifty spears would be enough to take the gate and overrun the lodge, but he kept this opinion to himself as he saw Kirsty running out of the house to where he was standing. For one moment, he was tempted to tell his wife to go back inside, that this was men’s business and not fit for her ears, but then he remembered that Kirsty was made of stronger stuff than the average woman and was not likely to fall into hysterics on hearing the news.

“They have a hundred spears and no horse,” he said to her in a calm voice when she reached his side.

“That seems a little excessive,” she remarked. “The laird must be aware we have no standing army and no defenses of which to speak.”

“Aye,” Callum replied. “It’s a show of force. He wants us to roll over and give up, and I cannae say I blame him. The lodge must look like rich and easy pickings for any laird with warlike tendencies. All the same, dinnae tell me parents this news, but begin to take everyone inside down to the cellars. The empty cellars, the ones containing no spirits. I don’ want me parents burnt to a crisp if they decide to set the lodge aflame.”

Callum turned back to the footman, saying, “Take the rouncy back to the other lookout, and both of ye ride to the north side. If ye see sign of Laird Gilbert MacGill’s approach, set a pile of green branches on fire. I will have a man searching the sky for this good news. When he sees the smoke rise into the air, we will ken help is on the way.”

Kirsty did not say anything but trusted that her brother would reach them in time. She went to pace the small watchtower next to the gate, and her vigilance was soon rewarded with the sight of a troop of soldiers marching over the hillcrest.

The lodge sprang into action. They were twenty able-bodied men all told, and each man was handed a sword or a spear, and whatever protective gear had been unearthed during the hunt for armaments. The blacksmith hammered the last nail into the gate barrier and then ran to take his position next to the wall. Every wall post had had a makeshift wooden tower placed behind it, and on each platform, a man stood with sword or spear poised, ready to slay anyone trying to climb over. As long as the gate held, and as long as Laird Duncombe did not give his man the order to use fire arrows, the chance was high that Macanroy Lodge could hold off the invasion for many days.

At least, that was what Callum told his men to put the heart into them.

As Callum ran around the lodge perimeter, from platform to platform that circled the wall, he would shout out, “Looking strong, looking steady, man. Well done! Hold yer spear down, with the point facing the enemy, and lunge forward aiming at the neck and the face. There’s a good fellow!”

Kirsty’s heart would have swollen with pride to see how brave and busy her husband was if she had not been so consumed with fear. She had to believe Gil would come and help them; the thought that he would be happy to watch them all die was not possible. She thought of dear old Gearr Drever, once her brother’s trusted captain at arms and good family friend—now retired and settled with a loving wife of his own—but Gearr would never allow Gilbert to turn his back on helping them, would he? Would he?

Callum came to her. “Time for ye to go inside, love. Me parents need yer strong words of encouragement more than I need ye here. I will send the kitchen spit turn-boy to and fro from me to ye with news as I come by it, so have no fear ye’ll be left there with no way of knowing what is happening outside.”

Staying indoors and leaving her fate in the hands of others went against every fiber in Kirsty’s being, but she had to trust Callum would keep his word, and besides, he was right: his parents needed her more. She threw herself into his arms, saying, “Cal, love, I trust ye. I ken we can do this.”

He gave her a loving kiss, saying, “No matter what the outcome of this day, Wife, dinnae ever forget I love ye forever.”

And on those words, he turned from her and walked toward the gates, not looking back.

For one terrible moment, Kirsty was tempted to stay in the courtyard, disobeying his request—anything so long as she was able to see the battle—but she bowed to her better nature and went inside to look after Laird and Lady Macanroy.

Callum went to stand on the palisade next to the gate and watched as Laird Duncombe’s troop marched closer. It was just as the old footman had told him; around a hundred soldiers with spears, and probably swords too, and the only horses seemed to be pack animals, weighed down with food enough to withstand a long siege. This gave Callum hope; if Laird Duncombe settled in for a siege, it would give Gilbert MacGill time to come and help them.

Duncombe’s soldiers settled themselves on the hillslope in front of the lodge, and he watched as they began to light fires and fetch water from the nearby streams, in no hurry to set about breaking through the lodge defenses. It was a clever tactic; the lodge would expend its energy keeping watch and staying at their battle stations, ready for the blow to strike while the attackers would have the upper hand, resting and eating, knowing the lodge inhabitants could not go outside the walls or lead an attack up the hill. Callum had the feeling this cat-and-mouse game gave the edge to Laird Duncombe, but all he could do was sit and wait it out.

“What d’ye think they are waiting for?” the captain asked Callum.

“I have no idea,” he replied, which was the truth. If he had been in Laird Duncombe’s position, he would have rushed to attack the lodge with full force. It made little sense to sit on the hill and make camp.

As the day passed into the evening, Kirsty came to speak with her husband. “Why do they wait?” she wanted to know.

He shook his head, never taking his eyes from the troop of soldiers camped on the hill. He wished he had left one scout to watch the south road. Callum did not like the idea that he had no way of knowing what might be coming from that direction now.

“Someone comes.” Kirsty pointed, and when he looked, Callum could see a small band of riders and one coach trundling down the road from the south, kicking up the dust from the road into the air, creating a dark cloud as they rode closer.

The little party made a small diversion and met up with a contingent from Duncombe’s troops, and then made their way together toward the gate. It was a parlay.

As the negotiation party got closer, Callum and Kirsty were able to see the men’s faces. One man was old and grizzled, with a fierce demeanor. The other man was Baron Lloyd, his face wreathed with a smile.

“Well met once again, dear Mister Macanroy...and your dear wife is still as pretty as ever, I see.”

Callum said nothing, just kept looking down at the small party of riders with no expression on his face.