‘Where do you normally go?’ she said. ‘By God, I’d think you’d have to travel far from the Highlands not to hear insults. Three hundred men! You led them into a trap that a child could have seen. Or did no one mention cavalry to you? Did your scouts not see their hiding places? Come to that, Torgan, did you even send out scouts?’
‘I don’t answer to you.’
‘That is where you are wrong,’ Sigarni told him as, dismounting,
she walked towards him. ‘You answer to me, Torgan, because you have wasted three hundred Highlanders. Thrown their lives away in a moment of crass stupidity. Aye, you’ll answer to me!’
Stepping in close, she slammed a right-hand punch to his chin. The blow shocked him and he stepped back, trying to ready himself. She turned away from him, then spun back and leapt, her boot cannoning against his jaw. Torgan hit the seat and fell heavily, striking his temple against the cold flagstones. Dazed, he heard her carrying on speaking as if nothing had happened. Only she wasn’t talking to him, she was addressing the Farlain. ‘In eleven weeks,’ she said, ‘an army will come to these Highlands of ours – a murderous force intent on butchery. If we are to destroy them we need to act together, under a single leader. The fool lying there will lead you to destruction. I think you already know that. Pick him up!’
Torgan felt strong arms lifting him to his feet, then sitting him in his chair. ‘The position of Hunt Lord can be passed from father to son,’ he heard her say, ‘but that has not always been the Highland way. We are in a war, and it is up to you to choose a Hunt Lord who can best serve the needs of the people. the people – Farlain, Loda, Pallides and Wingoras. I do not care who you choose. But whoever it is will serve under my leadership.’
‘By what right?’ asked a tall, broad-shouldered warrior with a silver moustache. Torgan blinked as Harcanan stepped up to stand before the woman. His uncle would put her in her place. He was a man of iron principles, not one to be fooled by this whore in scarlet.
‘By what right?’ echoed Sigarni. ‘By right of blood and right of battle. By virtue of my sword and my skills.’
He shook his head. ‘I do not know of your blood, Sigarni, but your battle was one skirmish fought at Cilfallen. As to your sword and your skills, I have seen no evidence that you can carry a fight with either. I say this with no disrespect, for I applaud your defence of Cilfallen and your determination to fight against the Outlanders. But I need more proof that you are the war leader we should follow.’
‘Well said,’ she told him. ‘And how would you like this proof delivered?’
‘I cannot say – but one battle does not convince me. Even now the Outlanders are camped on our land, their position impregnable. A war leader should be able to free us of their presence.’
‘What is your name?’
‘I am Harcanan.’
‘I have heard of you,’ she said. ‘You fought at Golden Moor. It is said you killed twenty Outlanders, and led the King to safety.’
He smiled grimly. ‘An exaggeration, Sigarni. But I was there the last time the clans gathered against the Outlanders and I will be there the next time, God willing.’
‘So then, Harcanan, will you follow me?’
‘I have already said that I need more proof.’
Sigarni stood silently for a moment. ‘I will make a bargain with you, Harcanan,’ she said at last. ‘Pledge yourself to me, and then I will show you proof
‘Why not the other way round?’ he countered.
‘Because I require your faith, as well as your sword.’
He smiled. ‘I hear you require men to bend the knee to you, as if to a monarch. Is that what you are asking?’
‘Aye, Harcanan. Exactly that. As in the old days. But you will not need to lead me to safety; you will live to see the Outlanders crushed and broken, begging for mercy. Now give me your pledge.’