There was a murmur from behind him. Already some of those who followed Leckenbie were backing off. I believe most of them followed him only from fear of what he might do if they did not, although undoubtedly some were as much the rogue as he himself.
“Rafe … ?” It was the same one who had advised letting up on me. “There’s always another time.”
Leckenbie hesitated, but he liked not the pistol nor the firm resolution of Andrew. He turned his mount. “We will come again,” he threatened. Then he looked at me. “And you … I will slit your gullet in my own good time.”
“You will not have to come looking, Leckenbie,” I said, “for I shall be back to find you. I have thought over our bout of yesterday, and now I know I can beat you!”
“Hah!” he laughed unpleasantly. “The man does not live who can best me, least of all you!”
Of course, I had boasted when I said I had thought over his actions and knew I could now best him. I knew certainly I could do nothing of the kind, but I also knew that in time I should. I would study, learn, work much with the blade, and then I would seek him out.
They rode away, and two dozen of Andrew’s men mounted and followed at a short distance to see them gone. Several of them looked to be stout fighting men who had served in the Queen’s forces by land or sea. I doubted not they could take care of themselves against the rabble who followed Leckenbie.
“I must get on my way now,” I said. “You have been kind, but I have far to go.”
“Indeed you have, lad,” Andrew put a hand on my shoulder, “but I’d forget your promise to come and find Rafe Leckenbie. He’s an evil one, and time will take care of bis kind.”
“We shall see.” I paused. “I wish to make for Scotland now. Which is the best way?”
“There are fishing boats at the Esk that go north up the coast, but if I mistake not, Leckenbie will expect you there, so I would suggest you go north on land. I will see you on your way. I have friends at Workington Hall.”
“I know the name.”
“Aye, a few years back Mary, Queen of Scots, took refuge there. Perhaps we can find a letter for you that will open a way for you among the Scots.”
“You are too kind.”
“If you wished to stay, we could make a place for you here. You are a good lad, and should not be wandering about the country like any gypsy or vagabond.”
“I have a way to go,” I said.
“Aye,” he replied gloomily, “one I might have taken myself at your age, but then I met Mary.”
“You did well,” I said, “as did she.”
He smiled. “Aye. Now we will have up some horses and ride north.”
“You do not fear to leave after all this?”
He chuckled grimly. “If they wish to return, let them do so! My lads will be about, and they are a rough lot. My father had a ship and was often at sea. Many of these men here sailed with him. They have endured many a hard-fought battle. You’ll not find their like this side of the Highland clans!”
He was a careful man, and north we rode by starlight that we might not be observed from afar. At dawn we rested and ate at a drover’s cot, a cozy, hidden place among the gray rocks and green rolling hills where a burn came down from the rocky hills, chuckling and babbling through the green hummocks and among wildflowers; a pleasant land, but a waiting land, too, for often had fierce Highland raiders come this way.
At Workington Andrew found a fisherman he knew, a Scot, by the name of Jamie, and fresh down from the west Highlands. “Aye, I will take him awa’, and gladly.” Jamie looked at my face and hands. “You’ve had a rough go of it, lad. What is it you wish for now?”
“To be well again and to find a fine swordsman who can teach me.”
“And then?”
“Then I shall return.”
“There speaks a true man. Well, he used you hardly, but not with a sword, I’ll mind?”
“A sword it was. This is but from a fall I had, although thankful I was to fall, for it saved my life. A moment more and he would have had me.”
“Was he so good, then?”
“The best.”
“Aye? Wait until you’ve met MacAskill, lad. He’s one of a fighting lot. Lead the MacLeod’s in battle, they do, and a brawny, fearsome lot they are, but the one to whom I’ll take you … he’s another matter, for he has served in armies abroad, and is a terrible man in a fight.”
“If he can teach me, I will go to him.”
“If he will teach you! I doubt he will. He’s man of independent mind and thought. He teaches no one … but he could. You are a brawny lad, surely, and we’ll take you along to him. He can do no more than say no.”
“And who is the man?”
“Fergus MacAskill. He’s fought in the clan wars in the Highlands, but upon the Continent as well. ‘Tis not only the claymore for which he’s known, but every kind of a weapon.”
“The MacAskills are to be found on the Isle of Lewis in the Hebrides, and some perhaps on Skye. I’ve not been there m’self, but they are allied to the MacLeods and have the name of strong fighters, always.”
Andrew added that comment and then arose. “I’ll leave him to you, Jamie, and do you see him well ashore, for he seems a good lad and I’d like as much done for me was I left as he is.”
“I am obliged,” I told him. “You shall see me again one day.”
Jamie led the way down to his boat. “Have you been upon the sea, then?”
“A time or two, and far from here, but upon water not unlike this.”
“Good! You can help me then, for it looks to be a braw, bad night upon the water.”
And a braw, bad night it was, to be sure. The wind howled down the firth as if to bury us by its sheer force, and a driving rain with it. When I came ashore at last there was not a dry stitch to me, but I was in Scotland and free of my enemies.
And there was a man for me to find, the great fighting man, Fergus MacAskill.
Tomorrow, with dry clothes, a night’s sleep, and a meal under my belt, I would begin.
12
Alone upon the shore I watched the fisher’s boat turn to take the wind, and lifted a hand to bid farewell. I did not know if he saw me, but I stood and watched him go, then turned to walk up the path. I was in Galloway, with nothing in my hands and no place to go.
Yet a man must move, and I have discovered it is always best to keep putting one foot before the other, and so I did now. A gloomy, foggy, mysterious place it was, and a fit one for the seeing of ghosties and ghoulies in the night. Boylike, I was wary of such creatures, wanting none of them.
After walking a bit I saw a light, but when I knocked upon the door no answer came and the light went out. Although I waited and knocked again there was no opening of the door nor any welcome.
A mile or more beyond I saw a cluster of lights. One belonged to a place that passed for a tavern, for as I came near a man emerged, weaving somewhat from the cargo he carried, which was shifting him about like a heavy sea. I hailed him and asked if there might be shelter for the night and a bite of something.
“Aye,” the man swayed like a willow in the wind, “and good food it is, too, if you’re of a mind to eat, but his ale’s the better bargain. Sure, and I think the man is heir to that Pict who is said to have jumped from the cliffs yonder o’ the Mull, holding the formula for heather ale.”
“I’ll speak to him then,” I said, and went to the door and opened it.
The room was low of ceiling, heavily timbered, and there was a huge old fireplace with copper kettles and such, and a few benches about and a long table at which some men sat, boatmen, fishermen, and the like, each with his mug of ale before him.
“Why, it’s a lad! And a sorry wet one, too! Come in, now! Up to the fire wi’ y’!” The speaker was a wide man and deep, with reddish whiskers at his jowls and a queer sort of flat cap to his head. “John! A bit of something for the lad, now!”