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by Sharon Michaels It was just before noon, and Colla and I stood upon the deck of Sir James’s galley watching the seamen prepare for departure. The last of the provisions were being loaded aboard: barrels of water, wooden crates filled with food. The town of Ballycastle rose, gray and drear, from the rocky beach, its stone sea-wall snaking out of sight around the point. Warehouses lined the harbor and other ships bumped against the pier. Colla’s own galleys lay at anchor in the harbor, too many to find docking space upon the quay. Only his flagship rested there, her oars raised and stowed below, her deep green sails furled about her mast. Men moved upon her deck, but few looked our way, most were engaged in their own tasks. Far above the town and harbor, Sir James’s keep stood like a watchful parent, one eye always to the sea. The fog had finally lifted, though the skies remained sullen and dark, and a cold wind blew through my hair. The air smelled of salt, and gulls screeched overhead. It was a lonely, haunting sound, and I shivered within my cloak. I could not seem to dispel the sense of dread that had settled upon my heart. The low rumble of barrels being rolled up the gangway was occasionally interrupted by the crack of canvas sails in the wind. My pipes and bag I had stowed in the narrow cabin below, out of the damp. It was a cramped and musty smelling place with barely room enough to turn around, and it would be my home for the next week or more. Assuming we did not meet with disaster and our ship sink like a stone. “Ready to sail, my lord!” called the Captain as the last barrel disappeared below decks. Colla waved and led me back towards the prow. “Are you sure about this, Duncan?” He towered over me, a comforting, protective presence. “ ‘Tis not too late, lad, to have a change of heart. I will find another, should you say you are not up to the task—none shall blame you should you choose to reconsider.” I did not say it, but the time for second thoughts was long past—I had already agreed, and Sir James’s ship stood ready to sail. My pride would not allow me to back out now, though I was sorely tempted. “You know as well as I, my lord, there is no one else. As Sir James has said, I am nigh the only one of your house that John Campbell does not know on sight. It must be me.” Colla muttered a curse, shifting his gaze to the Keep in the distance. “Did I not sorely need the old bastard’s aid, I would never send you. You know that, lad, do you not?” I blinked back tears at the worry in his voice, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Aye, my lord. I do.” He looked long at me, doubt and concern mirrored in his eyes. Finally, he shook his head and sighed. “Then take you care, Duncan, and take no unnecessary risks. I will wait upon your return.” He embraced me then, and I held tight to him for a moment, wishing I could borrow even a small measure of his strength. He released me and stepped back onto the quay. Sailors used their oars to push the galley further into the harbor, and I stood with my back to the shore as we slowly made our way towards the open sea and the coast of Scotland. I could not look back—to do so would unravel all of my carefully wound courage, but I felt Colla’s eyes upon me long after Ballycastle was out of sight. Return to the catalogue. Purchase: eBook |