Suddenly Kaelin’s good humour came flooding back. He would need to be a great deal better at his arithmetic to tally such a sum. What a pity it was not thought worthwhile to teach the clan children mathematics. Perhaps he should ask old White-Wig for private lessons. The thought was so ridiculous that Kaelin slowed to a stop and burst out laughing. How would the conversation go? ‘I’m planning my vengeance on you. So would you kindly explain the multiplication so that I may lash your back to the exact number required?’
His laughter pealed out once more, then faded as he heard hoof-beats. Moving to the side of the trail he waited. Five riders emerged from the trees. All of them were soldiers of the Moidart – beetlebacks, as the highlanders called them, referring to the black breastplates of baked leather they wore. The lead rider was a portly officer named Galliott. He was known widely as Galliott the Borderer, since his main role was to track and capture criminals and outlaws before they could cross the borders that marked the limit of the Moidart’s jurisdiction. Just behind him was the sallow-faced Sergeant Bindoe and three other soldiers Kaelin did not know.
Galliott drew rein and smiled at Kaelin: ‘Cold to be going without a coat, Master Ring.’ His voice, as ever, was friendly and warm, and Kaelin found it difficult to hold a dislike for the man. But not impossible if he worked at it.
‘Aye, it is, sir.’
‘Perhaps your uncle Jaim will buy you one.’
‘I’ll ask him next time he visits, sir.’
‘You’ve not seen him then?’
‘Has he broken the law, Mr Galliott?’
The officer chuckled. ‘Always, boy. He was born to break the law. Two nights ago he was in a fight at the Cock Crow tavern. Broke a man’s arm and stabbed another in the face. Fellow was lucky not to lose an eye. If you see your uncle tell him the owner of the tavern applied to the magistrate for damages to three tables, several chairs and a window frame. Costs have been set at one chailling and nine daens – plus a two chailling and six daens fine. If it is paid by the end of the month there will be no charges against Jaim. If not, I am to arrest him and take him to the Assizes for judgement by the Moidart.’
‘If I see him I’ll tell him, Mr Galliott.’ Kaelin shivered.
‘And get yourself a coat,’ said the officer. Heeling his mount, he rode away. Kaelin watched as the riders cantered towards the town. Sergeant Bindoe glanced back, and Kaelin could feel the malice in the man. Beetlebacks were hated and feared in the highlands. Most – though not all – were Varlish, and over the years had been responsible for many outrages. Only a month previously a woman living in an isolated cabin had walked into town and reported to the magistrate that she had been raped by three beetlebacks, one of whom was Bindoe. Her story had not been believed and she had been birched and jailed for two weeks for fabrication under oath. After all, it was said, what self-respecting Varlish soldier would touch a lice-infested highland slut?
Kaelin waited until the beetlebacks were out of sight then ran on. The wind was less fierce within the woods and he was soon sweating as he ran. The trail wound up, ever higher. He stopped at a break in the trees and gazed down over the hills below. Hundreds of small dwellings dotted the countryside, and many more, he knew, were hidden from his gaze, their sod roofs blending into the landscape. Cattle and sheep and goats were grazing on the new spring grass, and, some way to the west, Kaelin saw more beetlebacks riding the Eldacre Road where it met the shores of the lake.
Cutting away from the main trail he darted up a side slope, hurdling a fallen tree, and sprinted along the final stretch to the crack in the cliff face. It had rained in the night and, glancing down, Kaelin saw that he was leaving footprints in the earth. He continued to run along the line of the cliffs until he reached higher ground, then climbed to the vertical rock. The face was sheer for some fifty feet, but Jaim Grymauch had taught him to overcome his fear of heights, and to glory in the joys of the climb. Wedge holds, hand hams, pressure holds, all were second nature to Kaelin Ring now and he smoothly ascended the wall of rock, traversing back until he was once more alongside the crack in the face. Swinging himself inside he edged along the narrow gap then climbed again, emerging into a deep cave. A fire was burning in a rough-made hearth and a man was sitting beside it, gently burnishing the blade of an enormous broadsword. Kaelin leapt to the floor of the cave and ran to the fire. The man glanced up. He had but one eye, the other covered by a strip of black cloth wound around his bald head, and his face was scarred and pitted. There was a large, purple bruise upon his cheek and a cut to his lip was almost healed. Splashes of dried blood had stained the black cloak and kilt he wore.