Morag Mhor was with the men heading for the village, loudly daring them to lay a finger on woman or child, her voice rising as they insisted, grinning, that this time every wee babe would be slaughtered, just. For once, this game had no interest for Kelpie, and she headed straight for the castle. If Mac Cailein Mor was captured, she wanted to be there to gloat.
Everywhere there was clear evidence of surprise and panic. The town and castle, unaware of the approaching invasion, had been celebrating the Christmas season—in their sober Puritan way, of course, with longer and more frequent sermons. Kelpie’s lip curled with scorn for a chief so feckless as not to know what was happening in his own country—or else so sure of his invulnerability that he took no precautions. Och, she could hardly wait to see him taken prisoner! Her small white teeth fairly glittered in her smile.
She had just reached the castle wall when a shout of dismay and fury broke out. Kelpie rushed to a high knoll where she could see. Men were pointing to the small bay. A fishing boat was hastily heading out into the loch.
“’Tis himself is running away!” And Kelpie hardly needed a second glance to confirm it. Her keen eyes picked out two red heads, the short bulk of Lady Argyll, the patch of Cameron tartan that was Ewen.
“Ssss!” said Kelpie in savage regret.
The pipes lifted a wild wail of derision. “Oh, the great Argyll!” someone yelled. “Brave General Campbell! What, will you be away off, Mac Cailein Mor, and us just come to visit?”
Montrose wasted no time fuming over what couldn’t be helped, although he must have been bitterly disappointed. The capture of Argyll this day might have changed history—although he had not the Second Sight to tell him how much. Even Kelpie did not know, for the crystal had not yet showed her the scene to come later, when Montrose himself calmly mounted the scaffold.
His face was calm now as he gave orders to set about taking the castle abandoned by its owner. It wasn’t as difficult as it might have been. One couldn’t expect inspired defense from the men who had been left behind while their leader fled. And once Montrose’s men were in full possession, Kelpie entered the castle through those massive gates she had passed through before—but this time with an arrogant sway to her slim body.
She wasted no time with the fine white bread and wine that had been discovered, nor even with the miserable figure of Mrs. MacKellar huddled on a chair in the hall. She knew where she was going, and she wanted to be the first one there.
Argyll’s apartments were deserted. She walked boldly through the massive oaken doors, on into the inner chamber. There was a fine large cairngorm brooch on the table, mounted in silver, bigger than her fist. Fine, that! She looked around. What else?