Prince Across the Water Read Online Free Page A

to the laird ?”
    â€œKing George will call us traitors, Da says,” said Ewan, “and that’s how he’ll treat us if he wins. As traitors. He’ll send the redcoats to take away our land. And burn our women in our houses. And spit our babies on their English swords.”
    The German lairdie win? I had never even considered the possibility that King George’s redcoats might beat us. I shook my head violently. “He canna win. He willna win. The bonnie prince will be victorious. He has to be. After all, he has God on his side. And all the Scottish clans.”
    Ewan nodded, the redness on his cheeks now a paler pink, the tears gone, resolution replacing sorrow. “With God and all the might of Scotland, the bonnie prince canna possibly lose!” He gave a high yell that set the cows in the byre lowing again.
    We both grinned at that. Nothing could stand against Highland warriors with their great swords and their sturdy targes and their skirling pipes behind them. Nothing!
    â€œAnd when ye come back, will ye tell me what ye saw?”
    â€œAye, I will,” I promised.
    â€œEvery bit of it?”
    â€œEvery bit.”
    â€œYou swear.”
    â€œOn the head of the bonnie prince himself.”
    Then we grabbed hands and clasped shoulders, friends again. Our quarrel was forgotten, the harsh words blown off in the wind.

5 THE MARCH
    Soon the Donald men were on the march along the road that wound down through our glen.
    On each side of the path, tall red-barked pines stood guard. I looked up, hoping for an eagle, seeing none. It would have been a good sign. And then I thought: Who needs a sign? Everyone knows the Highlanders will win .
    Da and Uncle Dougal were at the head of our column of men, while Granda and I took up the rear. We were to stay in the back with the humblies , the poorer village men who were armed in the simplest way—with a dagger or hatchet or scythe.
    Beside us, tossing flowers and singing in her sweet, wavery voice, came Mairi. “Tell the prince to come quickly, Duncan,” she begged. “Tell him I’m waiting for him.” She grabbed up my left hand.
    I tried to shake her off, though gently, but she would not let go.
    â€œAway, Mairi!” Granda said firmly. “Yer brother’s marching with the fighting men of Donald now. This is nae place for a lassie.”
    Reluctantly Mairi let her fingers slip from my hand. I glanced back and saw her waving good-bye. All at once, she seemed to waver in the air, like an image reflected in water. I couldn’t move. It was as if I had become rooted to the spot.
    â€œGranda,” I began, turning to find him, to tell him what I had seen, for surely he would know what it meant. But he was already well ahead. Tearing myself away, I ran to catch up, startling a hare off the path. It loped out of sight, its great ears wagging.
    â€œThere ye are,” Granda said, when I got to his side. “I was afraid ye had decided to stay at home with the girls.”
    I laughed. “Not I, Granda. I’m off to see all I can see.”
    He laughed as well. “I didna really think so. After all, yer my blood.”
    We marched on together, he limping and me careful not to excite myself so much that I fell into a fit.
    As we went along, I had time to really look at the weapons my companions carried. The humblies, of course, had little of interest. But a few of the men further ahead of us carried great Lochaber axes, long poles crowned at the top with a broad blade. Others—like Da, Uncle Dougal, John the Miller—were armed with broadswords and targes, leather shields each with a wicked-looking steel point sticking out of the middle. Da also had a dirk that he had honed to an edge so sharp, it could cut a single hair in two. Oh, he had a musket as well, but I doubted he’d use it. He liked to say, “A man goes hand-to-hand. Only a coward kills without seeing his foe’s