Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Suddenly a man at the head of their column drew his sword and ran up the hill; he was immediately followed by others. The Highlanders arrived at the top of the hill, greatly to the consternation of a body of three hundred English light horse and chasseurs who found themselves mistaken for an army; they galloped off in haste, kettledrums and trumpets suddenly silent.
But Sara’s relief was only temporary. Two miles farther on, the Macdonalds in the rear were suddenly attacked by two thousand of Cumberland’s cavalry. Luckily the road was lined by thick hedges and ditches, so that the horsemen could not get round their flanks. The Macdonalds valiantly repulsed the attack with their swords, turned and ran down the road until they overtook the wagons, then turned and repulsed Cumberland’s cavalry again. By constantly repeating these tactics, while the wagons before them fled as quickly as they could, the Scots came into Clifton with very little loss.
“Get the women into safe quarters and then join me,” Lord George ordered Fraser. “I mean tae see how many men Cumberland has following us.”
But Sara was not content to remain safely indoors. The experience of being outside with cheerful, energetic men had given her a strong distaste for a household containing a scolding housewife and two whining daughters. As there was no separate room where she and Betty could withdraw, she decided an hour’s walk in the night air would be preferable to their company, and after a quick meal, she left the abode of her sullen hosts.
“You can’t mean to go walking about like we were in London,” Betty protested. “There are men out there with guns.”
“They’re to the south of town,” Sara assured her. “We’ll stay to the north.”
What Sara couldn’t know was that Lord George had taken his men out of Clifton in search of Cumberland’s army, only to find four thousand of them approaching from north of the village. Lord George cunningly concealed his men behind the network of hedged enclosures along the very lane where Sara and Betty were walking.
The English couldn’t get to the Highlanders because of the hedges and ditches, so five hundred of them dismounted and advanced in skirmishing order from ditch to ditch and hedge to hedge, keeping up an irregular fire. Sara and Betty found themselves caught between two advancing armies.
“Merciful Jesus!” cried Betty. “We’ll be killed right here!”
“We’ve got to get through the hedge,” Sara said, pushing her frantic maid toward the side of the road. They tumbled into the ditch and scrambled up the other side, but could find no opening in the hedge.
“We’ll never push our way through without an ax,” groaned Betty, giving herself up for dead.
“Keep looking,” Sara whispered fiercely. “If we don’t find an opening, we’ll have to hide in the ditch.”
“But it’s full of water.”
“Would you rather be wet or dead?”
But Betty wasn’t required to decide whether she preferred to die of pneumonia or a musket ball. Sara found a weak place in the hedge, pushed Betty through, and followed herself just as the enemy came into view.
“There’s someone behind us,” Sara whispered moments later, when she heard sounds of stealthy movement through the hedges and enclosures behind them. Betty dropped to her knees and began praying, earnestly begging forgiveness for every sin she could remember committing.
“No one is going to harm us,” Sara insisted. “One of those armies belongs to Lord George, and the other is supposed to defend English women.”
Confident in their numbers and the superiority of their fire, and well-hidden in the wan, moonlit darkness, Lord George brought his men up to the road through the hedges behind Sara, allowing the enemy to draw closer. By now the light had faded, and the dragoons could scarcely see the sights on their muskets when the cry, “Claymore!” followed by a succession of wild yells coming from both sides of the road, warned them of a Highland charge. Jumping the hedges, swords held high in the air, the Highlanders were on top of them in a moment.
Sara couldn’t stay hidden, and she squeezed back through the hedge. What she saw stunned her. This was no imaginary battle; men were being killed, swords plunged through their bodies, limbs severed from the trunk with a single swing of the broadsword. One man fell to the ground, his unprotected skull split to the teeth by a single blow. Suddenly it seemed to her that the whole world was smeared in blood.
Out of the melee Sara recognized Lord George, standing back to back with Fraser, fighting on foot. She watched fascinated as they parried sword thrusts with their targes (small, round wooden shields covered with leather) and drove their opponents back with powerful swings of their broadswords. Their alternate advances and retreats had the precision of choreographed movement; then unexpectedly one of them would vary the rhythm and a protagonist would step back with blood streaming from a fresh wound. Terrified, horrified, and fascinated, Sara watched the gory combat, the full meaning of war and what it could do to the human body coming home with crushing effect.
In that moment both Fraser and Lord George turned toward a fallen man, and Sara was jerked out of her trance by a sudden rush of a government dragoon against their unprotected backs.
“Look behind you!” she screamed, and clambered out of the hedge. She was unable to reach the dragoon, but the unexpected sight of a woman rushing out of the hedge caused him to falter. That was all Lord George and Fraser needed, and they converged on the unfortunate man. The end came quickly. The dragoon turned to drive back a thrust from Fraser, and Lord George caught him from behind with a single, powerful swing of the broadsword. His severed head tumbled from his shoulders and rolled toward Sara. It came to a stop at her feet, his eyes still open and staring.
Sara screamed and fainted.
The Esk River separating England and Scotland was running high when they reached the border. Sara had been declared a heroine for her part in the battle outside Clifton, and the Prince had insisted that she ride with him. She appreciated the comfort of this favored position, but she was even more grateful for the companionship, which kept her mind from dwelling on the unforgettable horrors of the battle.
“Highlanders will cross a river where a horse will not,” the Prince gaily informed Sara, as she watched column after column of men enter the river. Though the water rose to the men’s shoulders, they crossed one hundred abreast, just as they marched, holding one another by the collars, until above two thousand were in the water at once. It was a thrilling sight, and Sara was proud to be part of such an intrepid band of men.
The Prince and all the men on horseback went in to break the force of the current, so it would not be as rapid for the soldiers on foot. Then he recrossed to escort Sara to the far side.
“We can cross on our own,” Sara stated gallantly, as she watched the swirling water whip the men about like bobbing corks.
“Never will you insist, milady, if you have any feeling for my poor self,” wailed Betty, petrified by the swift-running waters.
“You could cross on foot, and the water would reach no higher than your waist,” remarked the Prince, who had never accustomed himself to the size of the towering female. But before they reached the bank, the Prince caught sight of several infantry who had lost their footing and were being swept downstream towards them. He sprang forward into the river and caught one poor soldier by the hair, supporting him until he could receive assistance, then helped another to the bank. When he reentered the water to bring out a third man, the men cheered him warmly.
“The Prince and his Highlanders seem to be of the same intrepid spirit,” Sara said to Fraser.
“’Tis a thousand pities his generals canna share his spirit,” remarked Fraser bitterly.
But his sour mood evaporated quickly. Some of the men had waded into the water fully dressed, while others held their clothes above their heads to keep them dry. On reaching Scottish soil, the pipers began playing a reel, and all the Highlanders danced naked on the bank to dry themselves.
Sara didn’t know where to look. She was surrounded on every side by an endless tide of men indulging in a display of unfettered natural exuberance. Betty was scandalized, and insisted that Sara close her eyes, but she stubbornly kept them open. It seemed foolish to be ashamed of something that thousands of men were doing without the least hint of embarrassment. Maybe that was part of the difference between men and women. Men could accept the sensual part of their nature, while so many women were determined to deny it.
Too, she found herself unconsciously comparing them to Gavin, and as always, they came off wanting. Among the thousands of men that surrounded her, there might be one who was as handsome, another with more powerful shoulders, and still another who was taller, but no one man combined all the attributes which made being held in Gavin’s arms a shattering experience. In the days that had passed since she joined the army, her remembrance of Gavin had grown more vivid, and she found that nearly everything that happened made her think of him.
Sara’s gaze fell upon some gaily dressed women who had preceded the army across the ford, and were now enjoying the nude dance with whoops and shrieks of delight. She didn’t remember having seen them, and she was puzzled as to why they should have appeared now.
“Who are they?” she asked Fraser.
“You’re never asking after
them,
milady,” scolded Betty, maneuvering her horse until she had positioned herself between Sara and the women.
“But I’ve not seen them before. Where have they been?”
Fraser could barely contain his bottled-up amusement.
“No
lady
has any call to know of the likes of them,” said Betty horrified.
“Are they respectable?” Sara asked Fraser, certain she wouldn’t get an unprejudiced answer from Betty.
“I’m afraid your maid doesn’t think so,” he replied.
“I should say not,” Betty snorted. “It is unfitting that milady should even know about them.” Sara studied the women again. She, too, felt a slight sense of disgust, but there was also a flurry of excitement. These women were sought out by men because of the pleasure they gave. These were women who purported to
like
the same kind of things that men did, things that
nice
women merely endured. Memory of her own wedding night came flooding back, shorn of some of the fear and anger, and her curiosity increased.
“I would like to talk with one of them,” Sara said, astounding Betty and Fraser alike.
“Milady,” gasped Betty, “you would
never
disgrace yourself by passing words with those hussies!”
“If the officers deem them fit company, I don’t see why I should not also,” said Sara, unsure of herself, but unwilling to relinquish this chance to satisfy her curiosity.
“I think that wouldna be wise,” said Fraser, agreeing with Betty. “None of the men brought along their wives.”
“Then who’s responsible for those women?” demanded Sara.
“Nobody has to hand around invitations to go where there’s men,” said Betty, condemnation in every word.
“There’s never been an army without women,” said Fraser with a half grin, “but the Prince willna allow them in his company.” Sara reluctantly gave up the idea of being able to talk with the mysterious females, but she didn’t forget them.
“It’s just like men,” she muttered as she turned away, “always ordering up pleasures for themselves, and then forbidding their wives to even be curious about it.”
“That’s because the sly beasts know they’re disgusting, and want to protect you,” said Betty.
“Is that the real reason?” Sara asked of Fraser.
“Pretty close,” he replied, struggling not to break into a roar of laughter.
“Well, I’m not sure I believe you,” she replied. “You’re a man, too, and everyone of you is in league to keep your secrets to yourself. But I warn you, if there’s something going on, I will find out.”
“There’s nothing going on with those hussies a lady would care to know,” announced Betty loftily, but Sara had seen enough of men in one week to convince her that they rarely put up with anything they didn’t like, particularly when all they had to do was turn their backs and walk away. There was some secret hidden from her sight, and she was sure she would have to find out what it was before she could ever understand men, particularly Gavin.
Five days later, the army halted, and the Prince went hunting in Hamilton Park. It was the custom that ladies were not included in these parties, so Sara was left on her own for the better part of a day. The Duke of Hamilton had placed his entire palace at the Prince’s disposal, but there were no females present, and Sara was soon starved for company. After having wandered over the palace and rejected the only harpsichord as impossible to play, due to its being out of tune and damp to boot, she wrapped up carefully and went for a walk in the garden. She extended this to the park beyond, and it was while she was in the park that she came upon one of the women she remembered seeing at the Esk.
Sara’s first impulse was to avoid such a meeting, but upon consideration, she continued her walk. This might be the only chance she would ever have to speak to one of these women, and she felt certain her future happiness depended on her understanding this woman and the attraction she had for men like Gavin.
The woman saw Sara coming and appeared to accept her hesitation, but when Sara came forward once again, unquestionably intending to meet her at the intersection of their paths, the woman became confused.