By My Sword Alone by David Black (ebook reader ink TXT) 📕

‘Does he look hunted, Gideon?’ James beseeched the farrier for some hint as to what he might expect.

‘Och no, maister. He’s in fine feckle. Full o’ it, like he always is. And demanding tae ken yer whereaboots, so pround o’ ye he is.’

James suspected that last bit was a lie.

However, it was obvious that Archibald was eager for his presence, and not because he was proud. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether you’re not too old yet, tae merit a clip,’ Archibald had hissed at young James, after Gideon had ushered him into the scullery, where Archibald was pacing. ‘I’d ask where ye’ve been if I cared, all I know is you were no’ where ye should’ve been!’

Upstairs, his father was in confab with McKay, the notary, and Mr Cowie. On reaching the head of the staircase, James recognised his father instantly, despite the passage of time. The earl, dressed in dowdy, country clothes and a scratch wig, still managed to outshine his more expensively, but soberly, attired men of business. He was a big, expansive man; a pumped out, greyer version of Archibald, occupying far more space and filling that space with far more noise than his heir ever would.

‘Och, there ye are Archie!’ he bellowed, as his eldest son preceded James across the room. Everything about his father, right down to the theatrical heartiness, was as young James remembered. ‘Stop yer scuttling about and get to the table. McKay here has the Act of Indemnity papers, and Cowie’s here tae be ma other witness when I sign.’

Archibald took his seat, revealing the presence of James behind him. Even then, his father did not bother to notice his youngest son. Instead, James was left in peace to watch this little bit of history unfold, as his father’s pen scratched across a fine legal document, and the others solemnly added their signatures.

The Act of Indemnity, passed by both Houses of Parliament at Westminster two years previous, had granted full pardon to all who were prepared to re-swear allegiance to the House of Hanover, and thus spared from the scaffold many noblemen who had come out in the Stuart cause.

However, right then, young James had no idea what the document portended. Even so, he was mildly surprised that he was actually watching his father doing something, instead of just talking about it.

As McKay blotted the paper, the earl sat back clasping his hands over his stretched waistcoat. ‘Now. A decanter of malmsey, d’ye think, gentlemen? Tae mark whit them in Westminster think’s a surrender, when we ken it’s mair a declaration o’ warr!’

Only then did the earl deign to look over to where James stood.

‘And that’ll be you, eh. Wee Jaimie. Whit are ye daein’ skulkin’ aboot in the corners? Come intae the room laddie and let’s get a look at ye. I heard ye left bit’s o’ yersel up in that glen. Show yer faither.’

James stepped forward and held up his hand.

‘Ach, ye’ve still enough o’ them left tae get yersel fankled in a lassie’s drawers ... now where’s that malmsey?’ said the earl, banging the table for the scullery maid and his drink as if he’d never been away.

And that was it for James, after three years’ separation from his only surviving parent. No embrace, no closer enquiry after his health, nor even a demand to hear recounted his heroic deeds on the day.

Much later, back in the scullery, Archibald had the maid fix James a glass of cordial. James was wondering what new deficiency had been detected in his conduct, and so was surprised to see his brother looking contrite.

‘We have things we are going to expect from you James,’ said Archibald, at last. When he used his full name, James knew his brother was about to address matters that went beyond mere filial niceties. ‘Therefore, even though you are still little more than a child, you are deserving of an explanation. The king over the water has written to our father. In his own hand. There are plans in motion, in which King James expects our father to play a role. That is why he has ordered the earl to take up the offer of the Indemnity Act.’

Archibald, deep in thought, had taken to leaving long spaces between his words. James found it disconcerting.

‘The country is riven with tittle-tattlers,’ continued Archibald. ‘The word abroad is that two sons of Branter were at Glenshiel. The government already has proofs that father was not at Glenshiel. So the earl is safe from any renewed Hanover vengeance. Everybody knows David was there. But he is already gone to Spain …’

‘David is safe!’ cried James. ‘In Spain! He made it! Nobody told me.’

Archibald pursed his lips at the interruption, then furrowed his brow. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. But I could not write and tell you, James. Letters are not safe. And as it is to be my case that I am not out, I should not know. And nor should you. Which brings me to my point. Father and I agree we want you to have no part in our great enterprise. So that if you are ever interrogated, we want it to be that you know nothing of our … commitment. And that must continue if the king’s plan is to proceed.’

‘If I am interrogated, dear brother, no interrogator is going to miss my wounds.’ James held up his ruined left hand. ‘He will want to know how I came by them.’

Archibald was becoming impatient. ‘Have you been run through with a pike, Jaimie? Lost your leg to a cannonball? Two fingertips gone is all there is to be seen. People don’t remember the unmemorable. They wounds might have stung like the devil when you got them, Jaimie, but they are not such as to create a stir abroad. “Have ye seen