Ewen continued, “I’m Ewen Cameron, seventeenth captain and chief of Clan Cameron. This is Donald, brother to my late father. And this, my foster brother, Robert MacMartin. ” Each man nodded toward the general at the mention of his name.
“You requested an audience, and we ’ve come, aye?” Ewen ’s nonchalance belied the tension of the moment.
The inside of the General’s tent was as well appointed as any Highland cottage. A small fire burned on one side of the room, vented through the top of the tent by way of a copper stack. Two leather-backed chairs were placed in front of the fire, a half-played chess game sat on a table between them. There was a large cot in the corner, piled high with furs.
The laird slowly paced around the tent, inspecting his surroundings. “Now, shall we get down to business? I haven ’t the stomach to stay here longer than necessary. ”
Ewen paused for a moment to study the chessboard then slowly raised his head to meet Monk’s gaze. “Tell me why you ’ve summoned us and what it is you’d have of the men Cameron. ”
The general was smoothly elegant in a way that Ewen immediately distrusted. He dressed not as a soldier, but as a British nobleman. Ewen sized him up at once, assessing that his wig, the gold buttons on his overcoat, and the silk stockings that hugged his thick calves would cost more than what a Cameron clansman could make in one year working the land. Fine, impossibly white lace framed his face and peeked out from underneath the cuffs of a sky blue coat embroidered with whisper-thin gold threads. His aquiline nose jutted sharply from his face in counterpoint to otherwise jowly features. Although in his early fifties, Monk had a stately air and a physical confidence unusual for his otherwise stout frame. Ewen imagined that he drew the attentions of many a lady and the ire of more than a few young lords.
“Down to ‘business, ’ as you call it. But of course, Ewen Cameron, seventeenth chief of Clan Cameron. ” Monk gave him a well-oiled smile.
“I see you’re dressed for battle, General. ”
Monk’s fashionable clothing was startling in the context of all the hundreds of redcoats waiting just outside his tent for imminent battle.
“Touché ! And ‘Monk’ will do fine, thank you Ewen. You don’t mind if I call you by your Christian name, do you? ”
“As you wish.” Ewen dropped unceremoniously into one of the general’s leather chairs. “Now enough of the niceties, Monk. I’ll not ask you again. Why’ve you called the Camerons to the middle of a redcoat camp? I’m assuming it ’s not for tea and biscuits, aye?”
Monk picked up a decanter from atop a side table at his elbow and gingerly poured himself a snifter of brandy. “Ah, yes. Why indeed have I called you here. Brandy?” Ewen ’s impatient glare answered for him.
“You and your tenacious Highlanders seem to be fighting a losing battle. Even now, those of your…farmer-warriors”—Monk bit back an affected smile, lips pursed in a tight red bow, dimpling his fleshy cheeks “who weren’— t slain have been forcibly dispersed back into your savage countryside with that fellow of yours, oh” Monk fluttered his hand in mock impatience “what — — is his name … General Middleton! That’s it. Those Highland…generals …are so difficult to keep track of, are they not?”
An unctuous smile spread across Monk’s face as he eased himself into the other chair and leisurely swirled and nosed his drink. “Mmm, a noble little vintage. Only once have I enjoyed better—a fine Armagnac aged in the private cellar of some monks in Gascony. Nothing like a little monastic prayer to improve the character, eh? You know, the French call Armagnac their eau-de-vie. They believe it holds therapeutic powers, and after experiencing it, I am loath to disagree. Perhaps when these vulgar proceedings are concluded, you too might enjoy a snifter. ”
“I think not, Monk. Uisge is the true water of life. Your brandy is for men who’ve not the mettle for a true Highland drink. Now if you’re through orating, I ’ll hear what you’re about. ”
“Of course, I digress. I was saying how our fine fighting Englishmen are systematically quelling your little Highland insurrection. Indeed, other of your Highland chiefs and fellow Royalist insurgents have surrendered their arms in recognition of the supreme authority of the English Parliament. And, for my part, I have treated them with great leniency.”
“Och, you mean you bought them. Well, I ’m not for sale.
I ’m not pulled where the tides may take me. Unlike yourself, as I understand it. You were once a Royalist, is that not true? Your father spoke for the king, yet it became …inconvenient for you to do so. Have I the right of it?”
Monk’s genteel façade momentarily flickered, and Ewen continued after only the briefest of pauses. “Now if that ’s all you ’ve to say, our business here is through. ”
“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I were you, laird. That is not all I have to say. I ’m offering an end to the killing of your men and recognition of your custodianship of Cameron lands. All you need to do is order your men to desist in these skirmishes, which though potentially catastrophic for you, are for the English army no more than the harrying of midges. ”
“You offer me lands that I already call mine? The Highlands are not for you to give. ” Ewen rose abruptly. “I ’ll thank you to allow me and mine safe passage out of this camp. ”
Ewen glanced back at Monk from the tent entrance. “White queen to rook four. Mate in two. ”
“Very nice, I was wondering if you’d see that move. ” A tight smile curled the edges of the general’s mouth. “I will see you again, ah, what do they call you …Lochiel? You will soon learn that this is only the beginning. The English Parliament is here to stay, and you have only begun to feel the might of its authority. Cromwell is its arm and I, good sir, am the gauntleted hand that imposes its will. ”
Monk took a slow, deliberate sip of brandy. “You will come to understand that your Highlands are merely a province of England. Your lands merely the commons. If you would keep your people safe and your lands intact, Ewen Cameron, seventeenth captain and chief of Clan Cameron, I recommend you consider my offer. For if you do not, you will be considering a premature grave in its stead. ”
“Till we meet again, then, General. ” Ewen paused before exiting the tent. “And one thing for you to think on. My people have a saying. ‘A shored tree staunds lang. ’ It means threatened folk live long, in case you’ve not the Scots tongue.”
This time only two redcoats caught sight of the Highlanders as they left the camp.
Ewen looked up at the position of the sun in the sky. If they rode hard, they would be back at the Cameron keep in time for a late supper. He would have some good come of the day, even if that only meant ending it with a hot meal. Now they were racing the sun back to Tor Castle, and all they had to show for their meeting were empty bellies and spent mounts.
He had heard that Monk was trying to buy every chief this side of Edinburgh, though he hadn’t fully credited it until his meeting with the man. Word was, more than a few Highlanders were aligning themselves with the general, and Ewen supposed he couldn’t blame them. Offers of money, land, and security were hard to snub, especially as the redcoats showed no sign of halting their trail of blood and destruction through the Highlands. The British soldiers laid waste to land and cattle as they went, cutting men down without mercy, taking others prisoner to send off as slaves to English plantations in the West Indies. If it were merely a matter of property or battles between men and men alone, it would be a different matter. But the redcoats put all villagers to the sword, regardless of age or sex, inflicting horrors dependent on their mood or the depths of their fury and resentment on any given day.
Ewen had hoped to broker peace, but he wouldn’t sacrifice the integrity of his land and his people to do so.
“We are sons of the hound. ” He fingered the brooch his father had given him.