threw himself, fully clothed, on top of his bed and cursed the hold Katrine Murray had over his heart.
Years later, when he stopped to recall the relentless pace of the next two days, he would shudder and wonder, not for the first time, if he’d been afflicted with temporary madness. Or perhaps the tales of witchcraft in the Murray family were true. From the first moment he had seen her, Katrine had bewitched him. There could be no other explanation for such a deviation in his normally excellent judgment.
At first light, they traveled north, skirting Edinburgh, and crossed the Firth of Forth at Grangemount. They spent the night at an inn near Dollar. The following day they passed through Perth and changed horses at Blairgowrie. Duncan argued for stopping at Blair Castle, hoping that Janet Murray would convince her daughter to end her journey there, but Katrine would have none of it. She ordered the coachman to continue on to Drumossie.
And so it was, that in the early hours of April 16, the Forbes travel coach bearing its long-suffering master, a squalling infant, and his bone-weary mother, rolled into the courtyard of Culloden House. It was close to dawn.
Bidding her host good night, Katrine closed the door of her room and, for one blissful moment, closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the engraved wood. Thank God the bairn was taken care of. After feeding him, Katrine had handed him to Duncan’s housekeeper with a sigh of relief.
There was no time to lose. Pushing away from the bracing support of the door, she looked for her trunk. It was tucked away in an alcove beneath the window. She knelt before it and lifted the lid. Every muscle in her aching body protested as she pulled on a warm cloak, woolen stockings, and sturdy boots. She stared down at her belly, the puckered flesh extended from childbirth, and grimaced. The breeks would never fit. She must brave the cold in the loose dress she had worn on the journey from Traquair.
Less than a quarter of an hour later, in the light of a brilliant dawn, she rode her horse past the rallying Jacobite troops toward Nairn. Foot soldiers were drawn up in two lines, the cavalry in the rear. The prince’s meager artillery, only thirteen assorted guns, were on the left, center, and right of the front line. Even an inexperienced observer like Katrine could tell that the men had lost heart. Many were still asleep. She bit her lip and urged her mount forward, praying that Cumberland’s army had not yet begun their march.
On the knoll near Leanach Holding, Katrine heard the unmistakable sounds of horses’ bridles and boots marching in cadence. She reined in her horse and listened carefully. It could only be the government troops. She was too late. Richard would never leave his command, even if it meant facing her father across a broadsword. Patting her mare’s heaving flanks, she turned back toward Culloden. There was a vantage point near Leanach Cottage, where she could watch the battle undisturbed.
The two armies did not face one another until almost eleven o’clock. Katrine caught her breath when she recognized the man on the gray gelding. Charles Stuart in his tartan coat and cockaded bonnet looked as jaunty as ever. His front line consisted almost entirely of clansmen, standing from three to six deep. On the right of the front line, Katrine recognized her father commanding the Atholl Brigade, which included Camerons, Stewarts of Appin, and Frasers, all wearing their clan tartans. In the center, she saw the Chattans, MacLachlans and MacLeans. She frowned. What were the MacDonalds doing on the left? Since Bannockburn, their position had always been on the right. Katrine knew what such a mistake would mean to the proud Highland MacDonalds. More importantly, the position put them at a serious disadvantage. The two front lines were not equal in length. The right of the prince’s army was perhaps one hundred yards nearer Cumberland’s front line than the left. In a charge, the MacDonalds would be slaughtered.
Katrine bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, squinting at the lines of Cumberland’s men. Where was Richard? She searched the six regiments from right to left. On the flanks were the cavalry and then came the second line of infantry. It was then that she saw him, and her heart turned over. His hat was off and his fair hair glinted silver in the sunlight. The Campbell militia was