Beneath a Winter Moon (2 page)

“Good Lord, man! What is it, now? What have you not told me? What more could there be?”

“Well, sir. I know you are His majesty’s man, and of a higher station than any man here…”

“I should say so…” Alastair interrupted.

“Aye. Well, the thing is…sir, the Innkeeper will not let you come in. Your belongings have been placed outside the
Inn
,” he held up his hands at Alastair’s once more open mouth. “…under constant guard, sir. I would not let them bring the property to my home because if anything were missing, I would surely be blamed. I cannot hang, sir. My wife and my young one would starve.” He put his hands together as if her were praying to Alastair. “I have only done right by you when no one else would. I have taken not a stitch from you. Not a stitch.”

Alastair thought that was amusing. Indeed this man had not taken a stitch. In truth, his wife had added a great many
stitches
.

 The amusement quickly passed, however, and now was the time to demand more. “
Camran
, you will tell me everything, and I do mean everything. I don’t care what you believe or why you believe it. If you do not know the answers, then tell me who does, but I want to know
everything
that you know.” He snapped his fingers.

Camran
sighed deeply. “Then we best go back inside to sit down,
so’s
I can tell you proper.”

The thought of going back inside the stinking hovel made Alastair shiver. “You will tell me on the way to the
Inn
, by Christ! I will not wait another moment.”

Camran
shuddered, then bowed. “Aye, then. It’s not a long walk, but there’ll be time enough. It is this way.” He pointed North, down a muddy road.

After telling his wife they were leaving,
Camran
and Alastair began walking toward the
Inn
. “I best tell you straight away why the keep will not allow you back in,”
Camran
began, “You’ve heard some of the old Highland legends, then, being a Scot and all?”

“Of course, of course,” Alastair lied.

“Well, then, you might have heard the legends about the man-beasts?”

“
Hmmmm
, well, of course it depends on the beast. I’ve heard tales of the wee folk and of centaurs and of half-ram, half-man…”

“
Och
, aye. Well, then, this is a half-man, half-wolf.”

Alastair stopped, looked at
Camran
, and laughed. “Surely, not! Surely, you are not saying that the people of your village think the attacker was a
wolf man
of some sort?”

Camran
stopped and for the first time, looked Alastair in his eyes. “It’s not just that, sir. You were bitten…indeed, you were mangled up more than a just a bit. Do you know what that means—or at least what a lot of folk believe it means?”

“It means you are all out of your minds!” Alastair exclaimed. “Good Christ! Here I stand, right in front of you—unharmed and in perfect health, and you want me to believe I was bitten by some mythical man-beast two days ago?” He stomped a foot. “It’s preposterous man!” He wagged a finger at
Camran
. “I don’t know what you and your Godforsaken people are about, but I assure you I will
not
accept it, nor will I
play along
. If I find foul play, I promise you that those involved will lose their very heads!”

“Aye, sir, I understand,”
Camran
stammered, “and that is why I took you in. We would all be punished if you did not return the King. You do not understand, sir…you are still in grave danger so long as you remain here.”

That caught Alastair’s attention.

“Danger?”

“Most assuredly, sir. Why, James McDonald wanted to cut off your head and burn you in a pyre. William McGregor agreed and I assure you that a McGregor hasn’t agreed with a McDonald about
anything
for a hundred years, sir. And then Duncan Roberts said that the only proper death for you was that you burned at the stake…
whilst still alive
.”

Alastair felt faint again. The green grass on the sides of the muddy road began to swirl and he staggered.
Camran
caught him. “Aye. There, now.” He righted Alastair. “Now you can see why I helped you. They’d have killed you, for sure. It was only your station, being a king’s man and all, and my oath to watch you night and day until you leave the highlands—well it was the only reason they let you live. If you had been of lesser station, they would not have hesitated long enough for me to protest. Aye, you’d be ash and dust right now.”

“But…but why, man? Why? What offense have I committed that would have them put their lives, and the lives of their families at risk by doing murder upon me?”

“They say you will become that which has bitten you.”

“Good God, but you are all insane.” He threw up his hands. “You’ve all been overcome and lost your wits to old superstition and nonsense. It’s like a disease that has spread out among you.”

“Sir,”
Camran
began, “I agree with you. I do not believe the superstition. But I cannot let them know that…and you cannot speak that way to any of the others. They
will
kill you. You have no officer, and you have no man to help you, save me, and they will sweep me aside easily enough.” He took Alastair by the shoulders, and then quickly released him, realizing his offense. “You must get your things, man your horse, and leave here in haste and without saying anything.” He paused. “Do your worst later. Come back if you want, with your king’s men, but please, I beg of you to remember my kindness and that of my family.”

Alastair saw that
Camran
was completely serious and he now believed every word the young man said. This peasant was not crazy—though the others obviously were. A sudden fear washed over Alastair. A fear unlike anything he had ever felt before. He would indeed leave this place as swiftly as he could. He would not aggravate the senses of these backwards, uneducated, superstitious peasants. He would say nothing. He would load his horse and ride out without so much as a word.

They were both silent the rest of the way to the
Inn
.
Camran
helped Alastair load the horses, which had been hobbled outside the
Inn
, with his property and that of his two dead companions. A few men and women came out of the
Inn
and the small shops surrounding it to glare across the street at Alastair.

Camran
held up his hands, a pistol in each. “These belonged to your officers, sir. The Keep has seen to it that they have been reloaded.”

Alastair took the pistols, cramming one into his sash and the other beneath a strap on the saddle. He mounted his horse and then opened a small leather slot, hidden in the saddle. He pulled out a gold coin and tossed it to
Camran
. “Bury my men, proper,” he said in a low voice. “It may be that someone will want to retrieve them, however—and that must not be refused. Is that clear?”

Camran
rolled the coin over in his hand, and tossed it slightly, as if judging its weight. He tried to hand the coin back up to Alastair. Puzzled by this, Alastair wanted to ask why, but his inquiry was cut off by
Camran
. “They burned them, sir. Their bodies have returned to the dust of the Earth.”

“Sweet Jesus Christ,” Alastair moaned. Then, not wanting to stay another moment, he straightened himself up, and pushed
Camran’s
hand away. “You keep that, and tell your wife she has my thanks for the hospitality.” He paused, “And you do, as well,
Camran
Shaw.” It was the kindest thing that Alastair McLeod had ever said to a man of
Camran’s
station.

Alastair led his band of horses away, and as he reached the end of the village, he heard a man shout, “Beware tonight’s moon, man! For your family’s sake, beware the full moon!”

Alastair shuddered.
Damned fools
, he thought. Soon enough, however, he would return to the backward village, this time with a platoon of English soldiers to deal with each one of these backwards people. Theirs were the ways of the devil—Alastair was sure.

As Alastair rode away,
Camran
laughed aloud and tossed the coin into the air. “Bloody fool,” he said, as he watched. “King’s man, tax man...cursed man.” He saw the look of disgust coming from a shopkeeper. In return,
Camran
bared his teeth and then spit, staring into the man’s eyes all the while.

Alastair worried that he might not make it to
Edinburgh
by nightfall, and the thought was especially alarming to him because, being a man alone with three horses and property, he would be an easy target for thieves. He decided that if necessary, as dusk neared, he would stop at the first decent home he could find, and was relieved when he saw the buildings and lamps of
Edinburgh
just as the sun began to wane on the horizon.

He collected his thoughts as he rode into the town. He decided to wait until morning to report the terrible events of the past few days. Tonight he would reunite with his wife and son, clean himself up, and perhaps start on a written account of his days at the village.

His wife and son greeted him with the same great affection that they had always shown, a reassuring love that Alastair savored and kept close. He was convinced that he and his family were happy and that he was indeed, a good and honest man. The adoration bestowed upon him by his wife and son, even by his own servants on occasion, was what Alastair lived for. He knew he would never rise above the station he currently held, which was a high enough rank, to be sure. Alastair was a tax collector for His Majesty, the only true Scot to hold such a rank in
Edinburgh
. His specialty was the law, for which he held a degree from
Oxford
. The position of Tax Collector was the culmination of years of ridicule and hard work, and Alastair was proud of the achievement. Though he hated his father, who had been dead for many years, Alastair had to credit the man.
Aonghasan
McLeod had forced his family to live as Englishmen, forsaking all things Scot and adapting to every English mannerism and belief, and had he not, Alastair would likely have become a tradesman or artisan, laboring for years to accomplish nothing. Alastair’s mother died when he was young, and there were whispers that she had killed herself after her family disowned her for her marriage to Alastair’s father.

Aonghasan
McLeod was a known thief before he reached the age of ten. He lived alone in the dilapidated hovel that had been left to him by his father, a traitor to
England
.
Aonghasan
had adored his father in life, but hated him in death. His father, named
Aonghas
, had died with so many other great men in an uprising against the king.
Aonghasan
had been left alone with the cattle and chickens while his father had ridden off to battle—never to return.
Aonghasan
never knew his mother, who died giving birth to him, and, after the death of his father in that great battle where so many of his clan died, there was no family willing or able to take another mouth to feed.
Aonghasan
, a mere boy of eight, was left to survive…or to die…on his own.

One afternoon, a lucky day for young
Aonghasan
as he was actually
at
his father’s old, run-down hovel instead of thieving, a procession of the King’s men arrived on horseback. There were perhaps twenty men, followed by two large wagons carrying several young boys. Alastair thought they came to arrest him and take him to the courts for his deeds, which would surely lead to a hangman’s noose, so he had ran. One of the horsemen promptly caught up with him, hitting him hard on the back of the head with the flat of his sword. He was dragged before the leader of these men, who explained that the King, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, had decided to take in twelve Scottish orphans from the
Highlands
. They would be brought to
Edinburgh
, given a home and schooled so that one day they could serve His Majesty and the great country of
Scotland
.