Prince Across the Water by Jane Yolen & Robert J. Harris

Author:Jane Yolen & Robert J. Harris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media

23 BATTLE LINES

“We’re away!” Ewan cried, speeding after Angus Ban. I had to practically run to keep up.

As suddenly as it had come, the sun was gone, and cold rain once again spit at us, this time slowly turning to sleet. A horseman galloped by, splattering us with mud. Six men, with badges proclaiming them to be Camerons, raced past, nudging us to one side. “Out the way! Out the way!” one cried and Ewan gave him a look as sharp as a dagger.

Still we kept up our pace and Angus Ban said, pointing, “My father argued against this ground, saying it’s too flat and open.”

Flat? Open? As we ran by, I looked with horror at where he was pointing. We were on the side of a large, featureless moor. Sleet sheeted down into our faces, obscuring the other side. But I knew from my previous glimpse that the redcoats were lined up facing us, patiently waiting for a signal to advance. I could still hear their drums beating: rat-a-tat-tat.

We dodged around a huddle of men standing quietly in thin tufts of yellow grass.

“There’s a bog in the middle,” Angus Ban was saying. “That suits the English horse and cannon too well. A Highland man wants cover, and high—”

“High, solid ground and the wind at his back to charge from,” I finished for him, remembering Granda’s lesson. And suddenly I worried if this battle was an awful mistake, being here on the low, boggy ground, the wind spitting sleet in our faces. Oh, Granda, I thought, ye should be here to give them all advice.

“We’ll charge home whatever the ground,” said Ewan, raising his sword as high as he could manage and slicing through the sleety air. “We’re MacDonalds!”

We hurried briskly past an enclosure, beyond which a line of Atholl Highlanders stood, their faces grimly fixed on the enemy. I looked where they looked and shuddered. The English still stood as imposing as a stone wall. They would take some beating.

“The MacDonalds are further on,” Angus Ban said.

Beyond the Highlanders and to their rear, I spotted a small group of horsemen trying to steady their mounts. In the middle, I caught sight of a tartan coat.

The prince!

I wanted to run to him, to tell him how we had spoken at Glenfinnan, wanted to touch the hem of his coat. But Angus Ban kept pushing us on.

“A wee bit further, lads,” he said, heading us past the first group of men.

I had expected to find our clan assembled there, in the place of honor by the prince’s right, but as we passed by, I quickly realized by their banners and badges that a different clan mustered here.

“Where are the MacDonalds?” I asked, looking about. “I thought we always battled at the prince’s right hand.”

Angus Ban made a grimace. “Away over there, on the left.” He spat the words out. “Robbed of our place of honor by the men of Atholl.”

I was appalled and thought: The other side of an honor is an insult.

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