Part 2 (2/2)

Ben turned on him. 'You're a right shower, you are.

What have we done? Nothing. And what have you got against them two? They lost a battle, right? Doesn't that make them prisoners of war?'

Algernon turned slightly towards Ben and spoke over his shoulder coldly. 'Rebels are not treated as p-p-p-prisoners of war,' he said. He turned to the Sergeant as he drew out a lace handkerchief from his sleeve, holding it to his nose against the close smell of the cottage. 'Right, Sergeant, you may prepare to hang them.'

The Sergeant saluted. 'Sir.' He turned to the men. 'You, you, take 'em through there and hang them.'

Ben could hardly speak, he was so astonished. The Doctor stood back, considering, as two of the troopers pulled Colin to his feet, still half conscious, and dragged him out of the door. Jamie tried to run up to them but the other two men held him fast.

'Ya canna do that,' he said. 'He's...'

'And take him too,' said the Sergeant. 'He's next.'

The Doctor stepped forward. 'I vould advise you not to do this,' he said. He turned. 'Ben here and myself, ve are witnesses, no?'

Algernon turned to consider him for a moment. 'Yes,'

he said, 'that's right,' He called after the Sergeant. 'And when you're done with those two, you can hang these riffraff.' He turned and walked out of the room.

Solicitor Grey was sitting on the high seat of a supply wagon for the Duke of c.u.mberland's British Army. He had been watching the battle through a telescope, which he now shut up and placed back in a leather case beside him on the seat. He was a tall, thin man with a face the colour of his name. In fact, everything about the solicitor was grey, from his mud-spattered coat to his long, lank grey hair carefully held back in a bow in the manner of the period, and his long grey riding boots. His voice had the dusty echo of the law chambers and the penetrating edge acquired from years of pleading cases in court. There was a dangerous stillness about the man. He never allowed his feelings to get in the way of his business, and everything was considered in a purely logical light without the softening shadow of ordinary humanity or human feelings.

He turned to look down at his clerk, Perkins, who was standing by an upturned barrel on which he was spreading out a cold lunch for his master. Perkins was a complete contrast to his master. His clothes were mussed up and untidy compared with the solicitor's neatly tied cravat and well-b.u.t.toned waistcoat. Perkins, a short, slightly fat man, looked as though his b.u.t.tons were in the wrong holes. His pockets bulged, his sleeves were ragged at the ends, and his hands were covered with inkstains because Perkins was a solicitor's clerk, and his main duties were the endless copying and drafting of legal doc.u.ments.

Grey started clambering down from the wagon. 'Not a very inspiring battle, wouldn't you say, Perkins?'

Perkins looked up. 'Don't really know, sir. I've never seen a battle before.' He spoke with a slight c.o.c.kney accent, in contrast to Grey's neutral, even tones.

Grey shrugged his shoulders. 'This one was over in but a brief hour. I have never seen brave fellows so poorly led.'

He brought out a handkerchief and wiped dust from the wagon off his hands. 'Now,' he continued, 'our brave Duke's troops are busy bayoneting the wounded. Such a waste of manpower.' He shook his head in disgust and handed the telescope to Perkins, who carefully put it away in the large food hamper beside the barrel. 'Well,' said Grey, yawning and stretching, 'at least it's given me an appet.i.te. I think I'll have a little wine.'

Perkins rubbed his hands enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up at the mention of food. 'Oh, yes sir, yes sir.' He indicated the barrel top on which he had laid out cold chicken, ham, bread, and a bottle of red wine. He started to pour a gla.s.s of wine for his master. 'I'm quite ready for it, sir,' he said. 'It must be this sharp northern air, sir. Gives one quite an appet.i.te, doesn't it?'

As he talked, two soldiers came along, half dragging the wounded Highlander and urging him on with kicks and blows. As he pa.s.sed, the Scot turned and looked longingly at the food.

'You'll get plenty to eat where you're going, old mate, never fear,' said one of the soldiers, laughing at the man.

'Yeah,' said the other soldier, 'worms, most like. Get on with you.' And he kicked the Highlander again as they walked away up the path.

Grey sat down on an upturned crate set beside the barrel and held the wine up to examine it for pieces of floating cork. 'All these fine fellows,' he said, 'st.u.r.dy, used to hard work and little food. Think what a price such men would fetch in Barbados, or Jamaica, Perkins.'

Perkins, who had been trying to stuff a piece of chicken in his mouth while his master was distracted looking at the wounded Highlander, swallowed it hastily. 'A pretty penny, no doubt sir. No doubt at all.'

'Indeed,' continued Grey. 'And I'll have them, Perkins.

I did not leave a thriving legal practice at Lincoln's Inn just for the honour of serving King George as his Commissioner of Prisons.' He picked up a napkin Perkins had neatly folded and placed on the barrel, and fastidiously tied it around his neck. Perkins had filled a plate for his master with meat, cheese, onions and bread, and handed it to Grey.

'I thought there was more behind it, sir.'

'With Mr Trask and his s.h.i.+p at our service, we may expect to clear some measure of profit from this rebellion, eh Mr Perkins?'

'Oh yes, sir.'

'Depending, of course, on how many of these wretched rebels we can deliver from His Majesty's over-zealous soldiers.' Grey took a mouthful of the red wine and then, suddenly rising as he tasted it, spat it into Perkins' face.

Perkins started back in surprise, gaping at his master as he brought out a handkerchief and started wiping his face.

Grey dabbed at his mouth with a fine lace handkerchief he carried in his top pocket and as though nothing untoward had occurred, said, 'I thought so, Perkins. The wine was corked. If you wish to continue in my service you'll have to be more careful, won't you, Perkins?' He turned and glanced at the frightened little man beside him, and for a moment the sinister force of the lawyer became apparent as Perkins shrank back. 'You'll have to be much much more careful, won't you, Perkins?' Grey repeated. more careful, won't you, Perkins?' Grey repeated.

Perkins nodded apologetically, stumbling over his words. 'I'm very sorry, sir. My apologies. It really won't happen again, I promise you, sir.' As he spoke there was a ragged burst of musketry. Grey mounted the step of the wagon and looked over in the distance.

The mist was beginning to clear and around them they could now make out the dimensions of the battlefield of Culloden Moor, with small groups of Redcoats scouring the brakes and pitches for the few knots of Highlanders still left.

Grey frowned. 'We must be about our duties, although we've nothing but corpses left on the battlefield.' He looked down at Perkins and smiled a cold smile. 'And corpses are little use to us, eh Perkins? Come,' he said, 'let's go.' Without more ado, Grey jumped from the wagon and strode off, leaving the small, fat clerk hastily shoving the food back into the hamper.

Perkins picked up the wine and held it up to the light, but couldn't see what his master was annoyed about. He shrugged and, raising the bottle to his mouth, took a deep swig.

'Perkins!' Grey's urgent tone came back to him. The solicitor was striding away across the moor. Perkins, almost choking, flung the bottle away in the heather then, grabbing the hamper, scrambled after his master.

4.

The Handsome Lieutenant Following the Scots girl's intense gaze, Polly looked down towards the cottage to see the Redcoats and the soldiers cl.u.s.tered around an oak tree which stood just outside the front door.

'What are they doing?' asked Polly.

Kirsty brought the Laird's telescope out of her pocket and steadied it against her arm. Through the eyepiece she could clearly make out her father and Jamie, and the rope with the noose hung over a branch of the tree. She turned to Polly and pulled her arm, dragging her down into the heather. 'What did you do that for?' gasped Polly. She looked over. 'Who are those two men?'

Kirsty turned furiously back to her. 'Dinna pretend ye canna recognise English Redcoats when ye see them, even at this distance.'

'English?' said Polly. She started to rise. 'That's all right, then, we're safe.'

Kirsty pulled her back down beside her. 'Do you want to get us both killed... and worse!'

'I don't understand.'

'Look,' said Kirsty. 'Look through this.' She handed the telescope to Polly. 'They're going to hang our men.'

Polly took the spygla.s.s from her and looked through.

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