A Voice from the Past

Chapter 11: Gang Aft Agley

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. . . . .

As the little band neared the Castle, the new and vastly improved Captain Randall halted their progress. He dismounted and crouched beside a stately larch, his spyglass in his hand. Expanding it to its full length, he held it to his right eye, honing it onto a dark haired woman walking along the tall grasses. And what ho—he was amazed at his good fortune, for the woman was indeed, Claire, with a basket dangling from her arm, gathering herbs.

Glued to the scene, he couldn't remove the telescope from his eye, since the reason for his folly was in his sights. Nevertheless, he'd come this far, and now it was time to put a plan in place.

Frank got ready to collapse the instrument and put it away when he spotted that tall ginger, Red Jamie, appearing as it were before her. At first, Claire seemed agitated in her manner toward him, and that pleased Frank. But then—to his horror, there was his wife willingly locked in an affectionate embrace with the man. If their union was in truth, coerced, it apparently had morphed into a more amenable joining. What was he to do in light of this new development?

He had imagined he would enter Leoch, and demand Claire be taken into custody under the pretext of interrogating her as a spy, having no interest in Randall's original mission of taking Red Jamie captive. Then, if all went well, he would take her to the stones and return with her to his own time. He hadn't thought about the possibility that his wife could actually be in love with this outlaw.

Waiting until the man accompanied Claire inside, Frank then proceeded with his idea. Either she would come back with him or stay with the husband of her new life. It was as simple as that ... or was it? This was the 18th century. Was Frank expected to fight for her? How did this venture misfire so badly?

. . . . .

Re-mounting Mystere, he gestured with a wave of his hand for his men to move forward.

When they entered the courtyard, heads turned, people froze in their steps, and the normal buzz of voices abruptly faded. By the time Frank and his men had walked their animals to the gate, the warchief had arrived, and confronted them in a most belligerent fashion.

"To what do we owe this official call from the likes of ye Sassenachs?"

Hawkins looked to Frank for his reaction, but his leader remained calm, and responded politely.

Surprising to himself, Frank relished a reversal in tactics ... and little did his troopers realize his prior, secretive goal. He wanted to find out more about this Red Jamie, and why the man had so quickly enamored his wife. "I apologize for this unheralded visit, but I've received intelligence that the outlaw, Red Jamie, is even now being housed here. He is after all, a fugitive from justice, and it is my intention to leave with him in my custody."

Dougal's jaw grew taut and he stood immovable as a damned boulder. "Ye'll be stirrin' op a hornet's nest if ye do. This is Scottish soil, and we're no in the habit o' bowin' to British rule."

A thought occurred to Frank, and he jumped at the chance to meet face to face with the MacKenzie himself.

"I see we are at a stalemate then, Sir. Let me approach the Laird, if I may, and see what he has to say about the matter, hmn?"

"Och ... I expect his feelin's on the matter will nay doubt be a mirror o' my own."

"Nonetheless, I insist that I speak to him."

A grubby little man walked up to Dougal at his summons, and Frank heard the warchief instruct him, saying, "Angus, I need ye to escort the Captain to the speak-about-room. And explain to Colum what transpired here, ye ken?"