The Thistle against the Crown: Chapter 3

Horatio mulls over the hard implications of joining the rebellion.

     The house went quiet after the three gentlemen left to return home. Scott had excused himself to go retire for the evening, which left Dougal, Horatio, and Sinead alone to think about everything that they had just spoken about with their visitors. For some of them the answer to the situation was obvious, but for others it was far more complicated. This wasn’t another war against a rival empire, it was against a country that most of them had considered themselves subjects of for many years. More than that, they would be going to war against an empire that they, themselves had fought for not long before.

     Horatio slowly walked down the hall to the small room that set off of the kitchen. It was meant to be a dry storage for food, but that turned out to be only half its purpose. Horatio and Dougal had agreed to use it as a workshop for their weapons and any other small bit of tinkering that needed to be done around the house. This was where he found his tall friend, working on reassembling the lock of his fowling piece after having scrubbed it down with oil and brown paper.

     Dougal was nearly fifteen years older than Horatio. He had been a friend of Horatio’s father for years while they were in the army. Rumor was that Dougal himself had fought at Culloden during the ’45 Rising. Horatio had never been able to get the truth out of him, but he did know that Dougal’s knowledge of tactics, strategy and the inner workings of the British Army were second to none. Horatio had met Dougal when he’d joined the 42^nd Highlanders as an Ensign. Horatio was only thirteen years old at the time, whereas Dougal, who was a sergeant in the regiment, was in his mid-twenties. Horatio’s father had been a company, and then a battalion officer in the regiment, so he didn’t have much time to teach Horatio the way the army ran, but Dougal had stepped in and taken the lost boy under his wing. He’d taught him how to fight with a basket hilt and a dirk, and he’d taught him how to be an officer and command men that were over twice his own age. After the battle of Fort Carillon, Dougal was made a Sergeant Major in the regiment and Horatio was adopted into the Light Infantry Company. The two had seen hell together, and that bond is what had kept them together after they had discharged from the army, and moved to the colonies.

     “Troubled thoughts?” Dougal said as he finished putting the frizzen back on the face of the lock.

     “Jamie makes the argument sound easy, but it’s not.” Horatio said as he walked in and sat down on the wooden bench that sat on the opposite side of the table from where Dougal sat.

     “Young Jamie makes many things sound easy that aren’t.” Dougal said as he finished tightening the screw, “And you know why that is?” Dougal finally looked up at Horatio and stopped working on the lock, “Because he doesn’t think. The lad is as impulsive as they come, and bless him for having that luxury in his life, but we both know better. It’s not that easy.” Horatio only nodded in response to his friend, who continued, “This isn’t an easy choice, least of all for us. So just like you said to the lad, every man has to make his own choice.”

     Horatio sighed, “Aye.” He ran his hands over his face for a moment and let out a long breath, “What do you think of this whole mess?”

     Dougal put the dog-head back onto the lock and secured it with another small screw before setting the now reassembled lock down, “John Bull has never been a friend to the Scots. For many of us who suffered at the hands of the English after Culloden, joining the army was the only way to get our identity back. It wasn’t that we felt any sort of zeal for King and Country, but it was the only way to be Scotsmen again, to feel like Highlanders again.” He paused, “And then we came here, and we fought the French and the Native allies. We watched our friends die by the hundreds all for the glory of the English Empire. What had the French ever done to us? What had the natives ever done to us prior to that war?” Dougal shrugged, “Nothing, that’s what. And we fought them and killed them and they killed us. What did we get in return? Nothing. Had we stayed in the army, we’d have been sent off to wherever they decided to send us to next, and fight whoever they told us to fight. By the looks of it, we could have been coming back here to fight our own kind. And there’s the rough of it, lad.” Dougal finally paused, “This isn’t going to be a war against a foreign empire, it’s going to be against men we’ve fought with, officers you’ve dined with. And then there’s the other side of that. Were we to join the English and fight against this rebellion, we would be fighting our own kin, our townspeople, and we’d be pissing on the memory of every one of our families and clansmen who fought and died at Culloden, and that… that alone would be enough to seal my decision.”

     Horatio sat quietly and listened as Dougal spoke. His words made sense to him, and touched on many of the troubles that he, himself, had been trying to come to terms with. He had once been an Officer of the Crown. A leftenant in one of the most prestigious Highland regiments in the British Army, and he was now considering active rebellion against the same king he’d fought for just a decade before. He wondered how the world had gotten so crazy, but he knew the English. He didn’t have many memories of Scotland, but he remembered that living there under English rule had been cruel, and Dougal was right, joining the highland regiments, was the only way to regain the highland identity that so many of them took such pride in. “So you want to fight?”

     “Aye.” Dougal said softly, “When you make the call for volunteers tomorrow, I will be the first one standing by your side.”

     “I didn’t even know if I could do it.” Horatio replied, “Call for volunteers to fight in a rebellion against a King that we fought and bled for just a short time ago. That our friends and kin died for.” Horatio shook his head, “But you’re right, the King has never been a friend to the Scots, and by his actions against Boston, and other areas throughout the colonies, he isn’t a friend to the colonies any longer.” Horatio nodded, “So tomorrow we put the word out. We raise the militia.” Dougal nodded and Horatio smiled, “You know, Sergeant, that you’ll have to shave that beard again.”

      “Before we reach the camp in Exeter, I’ll be back to looking the way I did when you met me.” Dougal retorted.

     “You’d have to take a few years off your life before you could do that.” Horatio teased him.

     Dougal took a rag and crumpled it in his hand and tossed it at Horatio, “Ahhh be gone with you. I can’t focus on cleaning our weapons with you haverin’ now.”

     Horatio nodded, “We’ll need to be up early.”

      “Don’t worry about me. Remember who used to wake you up, Leftenant.” Dougal offered him a cocky smile, and went back to putting the fowling piece back together for its final wipe down. He found these small, repetitive tasks relaxing, and it allowed him to focus on the item at hand, rather than dwelling on the important matter that lay before them all. He had made his decision and he wasn’t about to change that thought. He had never felt as though he were a subject of King George. Even though they had all cheered “God Save the King” when he was in the Army, he had never believed in it. The choice was made that much easier by the simple fact that he did not feel the smallest thread of loyalty towards the King of England.

     Horatio walked out of the small room and through the kitchen, before going back upstairs. The lights were low, with only a few candles burning in places here and there to allow those who were still up to move about the house without tripping over their own feet. A few of the floorboards creaked under his feet. He paused and looked into the room where Sinead’s children slept soundly. He offered a soft smile knowing that they were safe, but a small part of him wondered how safe they would be once a war broke out. He knew that the British Army had fought in frontiers like this during the last war, so there was no reason to think that they wouldn’t do the same in this war, which meant that they could come marching down the streets of Berwick any day.

            “Don’t be worrying about them.” Sinead said softly, standing in the door way to her room, just up the hall, looking at her sister’s widower, “They’ll be much better off, without the living under the rule of the English!”

     Horatio smirked, knowing how much Sinead hated the English. It wasn’t surprising, it seemed the only people who disliked the English more than the Scots was the Irish. It didn’t shock him at all that she would rather her children live in danger for a short period of time and have a chance at being free of English rule, than live in relative safety as subjects of the crown, “You’re assuming quite a lot, lass.” Horatio said, “We haven’t gone to war yet and you’re ready to crown us victors.”

            “Honest men, with an honest cause.” Sinead said confidently, “The Lord won’t allow them to lose.”

     Horatio smirked and breathed out a light laugh, “The Bonnie Prince had a lot of honest men, and an honest cause, and look at how many of them were butchered at Culloden?”

      “Oh me arse!” Sinead exclaimed, “There was nothing honest about Charlie, or his cause. He wanted to put his father on the throne of England, he had no intentions of letting Scotland be its own country, and you know it. This is different, this is unlike anything the world’s ever seen before. Ordinary citizens standing up against the might of the greatest empire in the world.”

      “The English have had rebellions and civil wars before. Have you not heard of Oliver Cromwell. I’d have thought you Irish would be very familiar with him.” Horatio replied quietly as he walked up to her and leaned on the opposite side of the door frame from where Sinead stood in nothing but her shift.

      “Oh Cromwell be damned! England wasn’t the giant it is now, and that was a religious rebellion.” Sinead replied sharply, “Now stop playing devil’s advocate. You’ll have plenty of people doing that to you tomorrow. You still have the Campbells to contend with, and you know they won’t turn easy.”

     Horatio nodded and sighed letting the stress drain from his body. Sinead walked up closer to him and put her hand on his chest. The light caught her just right, and her pale flesh became visible through the thin linen of the shift, allowing Horatio to see her bare body beneath. He swallowed hard as she looked up at her with her large brown eyes and ran her pale hand down his chest, “You seem stressed.”

      “It’s not an easy choice.” Horatio replied softly and looking behind him, as though he were expecting someone to be coming up the stairs. These sort of situations with Sinead always made him feel uncomfortable, and emotionally confused. Sinead was his late wife’s sister, and while he was over the death of his wife in childbirth, two years earlier, being with Sinead, in even a physical way, seemed wrong in some ways. It wasn’t, however, unusual at all for a widowed man to remarry the wife’s sister if she was available. He had heard of it happening several times, and even had witnessed it with one of the older farming families on the outskirts of town, but there was still a part of him that thought that something was wrong with the arrangement that he and Sinead had, which was why he insisted that their nocturnal visits remained a secret.

      “No choice worth making ever is,” Sinead said, softly comforting him, “but you don’t need me to tell you that Horatio Cameron.” She smiled softly up at him, and ran her hand up his neck and cupped his cheek, “You’re making the right choice. I’m not just saying that because of my hate for the English, I do believe that this is the right choice.”

     Horatio’s hand went to the small of her back. Despite that part of his mind that always wrestled against the relationship that he and Sinead had, he couldn’t resist her. It was comforting, and a way to release his frustration, the same as it was for her. He looked down at her with her hair taken down and hanging over one shoulder. Her dark brown locks let free as he always felt they should have been if etiquette did not demand otherwise. He felt her body through the linen material and it began to arouse him. Slowly the lust began to take over his mind, and the thoughts that their arrangement was wrong, could not be further from his mind.

     Sinead pulled Horatio’s face towards hers gently and she closed her eyes before pressing her lips to his. She let her fingers travel further up, pressing into his hair as they kept a firm grasp on his head. She could feel her body reacting as his grip tightened on her and he pulled her towards him. Her n*****s began to harden and press against the thin layer of material that covered her body. She felt her womanhood begin to heat up as her plump breasts began to press against her lover’s torso.

     Sinead pulled Horatio into the room and shut the door, knowing now that they were embarked on their nocturnal course. The two continued their deep kiss, once they were inside the room. A beeswax candle flickered on the small wooden tables on either side of the bed giving the room a soft, orange illumination. The room was brisk, and the two wasted little time reaching the bed. Sinead quickly let the loose fitting linen shift fall off her shoulders and down into a small pile on the floor before climbing into the bed.

     Horatio watched her disrobe and it only aroused him more. He quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat but not as eagerly as a teenage youth experiencing a woman for the first time. After several weeks in the wilderness, with no one but Dougal for company, Horatio was ready to be with a woman. He felt his shaft press against the front of his breeches and the ache almost caused him to release an audible moan. Within minutes his waistcoat and shirt were off, and within another three minutes, the rest of his clothes were in a messy pile on the floor and he was climbing into the bed beside her, ready to experience her, as she was waiting to experience him. Whatever had started their exchanges, it was lust that kept it going.

Author's Note

I am so grateful to those of you who have taken the time to read my work. I do work hard on my stories and am always trying to improve them. A persistent problem that has been pointed out to me on several occasions and in several pieces of my work has been that I tend to focus on details rather than the story. It's a problem I've been working on diligently, and I sincerely hope that these chapters are starting to show some improvement on that front.
As always please feel free to leave a review, comment, or critique. I DO read them all and I try to reply to as many as I can.