“It couldna be the army,” said an Edinburgh voice soothingly. “Gin ’tis Montrose at all, which I doot, ’tis a mere handfu’ o’ wild Hieland thieves he could ha’ brought, and we’ll wipe ’em oot the morn.”
“Still and all,” came another voice, “it might be best for you to be going on board your galley, your Lordship. You’ve an injured shoulder, remember, and you’re too valuable to risk your life in a mere skirmish.”
“You may be right.” There was unmistakable relief in Argyll’s voice, and Kelpie lifted her short lip in contempt. “I can put you in charge, Auchinbreck, and send commands from my galley. Who is that over there?”
His voice rose sharply, and Kelpie’s hair stood on end until she heard Hamish’s apologetic answer. “Hamish Campbell, just, with a MacDonald I found skulking up near the Spean River, and I thinking you might be wanting to see him.”
“A MacDonald?” Auchinbreck’s voice was incisive. “Aye, he’s likely a scout for Montrose and may be able to tell us something. Will you speak to him, your Lordship?”
“Later,” said Argyll. “Take him down to the shelter by the loch and stay there yourselves on guard. See that no one goes near the galley, and I’ll question the prisoner before I go board.”
There was a crunch of snow as Argyll and his party started back toward the castle, and then a pause. “Why isn’t he tied?” came Argyll’s voice accusingly.
“Och, your Lordship, he has a hurt foot, and it would be too hard to carry him this whole way if—”
“He could have been shamming, you fool!” Argyll was furious. “Tie him now.”