The army stayed at Torcastle for two days while Camerons came flocking to the call of their chief. If any had misgivings about Argyll’s possible revenge on them, they did not show it; nor did Lochiel, that stern old man who held his head so high. Kelpie did not wait to see the Glenfern Camerons arrive, for she had sudden misgivings about seeing Ian again. Instead, she went back to the tower room at Inverlochy Castle in a very thoughtful frame of mind.
For several days she stayed at the castle, enjoying her solitude, and getting her food from homes nearby with surprising ease. For the very people who had once regarded her with deep suspicion were now delighted to give food and hospitality to the wistful lass who had been a prisoner of Argyll, who had been helped by Ewen Cameron himself, and who had even got away with Lady Argyll’s fine cloak. Food, scanty though it might be with the men away in the army, was shared, and there was not a home where she was not urged to bide awhile.
But she shook her black head. Och, no, she said. She was away up the Glen. But she would take her leave marveling at such openheartedness to a stranger—even one who had not yet stolen anything. After thinking about it, Kelpie decided not to take anything at all. Somehow the good will seemed more valuable than anything she might steal.
Then the mild weather turned into sudden bitter cold. The night wind hurled blasts of snow against the tower walls, crept up the winding stairs, and whined outside like the banshee. It was so cold that Kelpie thought she might put away misgivings and go to Glenfern after all. Surely Lady Glenfern would not refuse her shelter in this cold!
She was heading back to Inverlochy in the early dusk when she decided this. Her stomach was comfortably full of hot broth and scones from a generous young Cameron wife, she was a trifle sleepy, and it would be good indeed to sleep tomorrow night or the next in the comfort of Glenfern, under the same roof with Wee Mairi.
It was fortunate that Kelpie’s senses remained alert even when her mind was on other things. Even so, she had nearly walked up to the castle gate before she realized that something was wrong, and she never knew exactly what it was that warned her. But suddenly she stopped, alive to the sharp feel of danger, her small figure dark and taut against the faintly luminous patches of snow. An instant later she simply was not there, and the Campbell soldier who came running out of the gate, under the impression that he had seen something, shook his head and cursed the weather.
Kelpie lay in the snow where she had thrown herself behind a small hillock, not daring to raise her head but listening as if her life depended on it—which it did. Soon there was no doubt. Inverlochy Castle was being occupied—by Mac Cailein Mor and his army!
With sick dismay she pieced things together. Someone called for Campbell of Auchinbreck. Then there was a harsh and authoritative Lowland voice. And by crouching behind a thick clump of juniper and twisting her head cautiously, Kelpie could just make out a galley with black sails silhouetted against the gray waters of the Loch.
Oh, there was no doubt whatever! The Campbell had gathered his courage and his army and had come after Montrose.