Carn Mo'r Read online

  I leaned over. Her eyebrows rose. ‘What’s even more barbaric, lass, is that each weapon you see upon these walls has been blooded.’

  ‘What!’ she turned to view a line of Zulu spears on the wall. I winked at her father over her head.

  ‘You mean they’ve all …’ she hesitated.

  ‘Taken human life, yes.’

  She pulled a face. ‘It’s disgusting.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ I agreed.

  We turned the corner and she squealed in surprise, I grinned.

  ‘Isn’t that an old maxim?’ asked her father.

  ‘It is that.’

  ‘From the first world war?’

  ‘No, before that, this hall is dedicated to the Zulu and Boer wars.’

  He touched the big black machine gun. ‘It looks ready to fire.’

  ‘It is.’

  Robyn screwed up her face again. ‘Why, do you expect another war to break out?’

  ‘There are always wars and men needed to fight them, although my fighting days are over, thank God.’

  ‘All these weapons must take a lot of maintenance,’ her father realised.

  I nodded. ‘We all pitch in at times, although generally it is mainly the province of the old men of the Glen and those who were wounded or maimed in the wars.’ Robyn opened her mouth to say something but I beat her to it. ‘It gives those men employ, where there would be none.’

  ‘Ohh!’ was all she managed. ‘Is the whole Castle like this? Isn’t there anywhere … more comfortable?’

  I grinned. ‘All the family rooms, living areas, bedrooms, bathrooms, etc. have been decorated by the women of the household over the years.’

  ‘Oh! I see,’ there was a question in her eyes but she never voiced it.

  The Doctor was peering at the brass plate on the gun. ‘This says John Buchan VC.’

  ‘That’s right, it was captured by his grandfather. Many of the items you will find labelled. Some were captured by members of my family, some the Buchan’s, others by men from the Glen.’ I stretched my hands out. ‘This house has been used by the people of the Glen as a sort of museum for centuries. Indeed, my ancestors have been known to complain greatly. Instead of adding to the house to hold a burgeoning family, it has been expanded to house this massive collection.’

  The Doctor laughed. ‘It is impressive. Have you never considered giving it to a museum or selling it?’

  ‘It’s not mine to sell or give away. It belongs to the whole Glen. We also receive many guests each year to study it.’

  I opened a door. ‘This is your room Miss Colwin.’ Then opened the one directly across. ‘Doctor, would you like to unpack yourself Sir, or will I send someone up?’

  ‘No leave it, I’ll do it.’

  Robyn stood in the middle of the room looking lost. ‘Oh it’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

  ‘It was my mother’s,’ I admitted.

  ‘And your father’s?’

  ‘No, just my mother’s. She did it up for herself after my father died. She couldn’t face sleeping in the big room all by herself.’

  ‘The big room?’ She asked surprised.

  ‘Yes this one’s quite small.’

  ‘Really?’ Her tone was quite sarcastic but it didn’t last long.

  She leaned over the four-poster to test the softness of the mattress. A fire lit in my veins and scorched my body at the sight of those small round buttocks. As she turned back to me I grabbed a poker and settled the fire Connie had lit earlier to hide my embarrassment.

  ‘I must insist when you go to bed you settle the fire and place a guard before it. It’s something we insist of all our guests. We also have electricity here so no candles please. They’re just for decoration.’

  ‘In case of fire?’

  ‘Yes, most of the interior is wood, hundreds of years old and dry.’

  ‘I understand.’

  I had recovered enough and turned, smiling. Her head dropped and her eyes swivelled up in a coquettish manner and the hunger was upon me.

  She flushed. ‘Your mother had good taste.’

  I had to drag my mind off the beauty before me. ‘Yes she had,’ was about as much as I could manage. The Doctor walked in, saving me.

  ‘Are you two hungry?’ I asked.

  ‘Famished,’ he answered.

  ‘Then let’s go eat.’

  ‘I much prefer art,’ she ventured on the way down.

  ‘It’s the one thing we almost have as much of as we do weapons. There are some very interesting paintings and sculptures.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes I’ll give you a tour if you want?’

  ‘I’d love one.’

  ‘What about you Doctor?’

  ‘I would love to but first I seem to remember you telling me something about an amazing library.’

  We had an informal lunch in the kitchen with John and Connie. The atmosphere soon became light and jocular, as I’d hoped. The women were quickly joined in conversation, often in hushed whispers. The Doctor and John also got their heads together. They had been a lot better acquainted than I.

  I found myself keeping my own company, but I didn’t mind. It was like wakening from a strange dream. Or was this the dream? All around I could feel the ancient stones of CarnMo’r take a deep breath. The first in five long years.

  Chapter 11

  I could hardly bare to keep my eyes from her lithe form as I walked her round. It was hard not to smile at her enthusiasm as treasure after treasure was revealed. Indeed it was infectious.

  The hunger was hard upon me again, for it had been a while since I’d been with a woman. Two winters this year since I’d last visited Madam Kitty’s in London. Winters could be harsh in the Ladder hills. Since coming back from the war it was a habit I had afforded myself.

  As a young subaltern recovering from the defeat of Dunkirk, I had been drowning my sorrows in a seedy bar in London with the surviving junior officers from my regiment and there I was seduced by the prettiest whore in London. What had followed was a weekend of unrivalled sexual exploration. I was besotted.

  It was weeks before the truth of her situation was revealed to me. It ripped my soul apart and much grief did it cause my young heart. But alas I was hooked on the devilish things she practiced on me.

  Once the war was over I still visited Madam Kitty’s, and once in the darkest days I invited her up to CarnMo’r. She had laughed in my face. Not for her the bleakness of the Grampian Mountains.

  Two winters past had been my last visit. The years of sin had begun to take their toll on that once beautiful countenance. Fat had begun to lair beneath dulled skin with too much liking for the finer things in life. Pink champagne and chocolate had finally laid waste to her figure. Even the most expensive of corsets couldn’t quite cope. That and the smell of her breath from teeth beginning to rot and left untreated finally made me see the light.

  With a resounding farewell and a lie on my lips, I left Madam Kitty’s forever. Last winter I had travelled to the killing fields of Europe and visited my old comrades. A solemn journey, full of bitterness, tears and memories.

  We arrived in the corridor in which my own room stood. On the walls was the memorabilia we had sent home.

  ‘Oh my God, is this what I think it is?’

  ‘I believe it’s a Picasso.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Suspicion grew in her eyes. ‘Where did you get it?’

  I grinned. ‘John and I dived into a shell hole to avoid some nasty Germans who were shooting at us and there it was.’

  ‘In the hole?’

  ‘Yep, in the bottom of a bloody great bomb crater.’

  ‘You looted it,’ she laughed.

  ‘No, we rescued it. Such a thing couldn’t be left to the mercies of the elements or the war. It would have been a crime against humanity to do so.’

  She laughed. ‘You still looted it.’

  It was my turn to laugh. ‘It’s a f
amily tradition, what can I say?’

  A big oil painting of Hitler stood between two Nazi flags. Her face fell a little. ‘Why do you keep this?’

  ‘Merely a memento, I was lucky to get it. Rule of war, if you found one you left it well alone. The common German soldier loved to booby trap them. This one had been kindly crated up by its former owner. Very considerate of him I thought.’

  The smile partly returned, ‘as long as you’re not a secret admirer.’

  ‘Good lord no. I saw firsthand what he did to Europe and his own people. I could never support anyone like that.’

  ‘I’m glad. What are these, why did you take home broken guns?’ She frowned at the two rifles with bent barrels.

  ‘They aren’t broken; they’re for shooting round corners.’ I could see the look of disbelief on her face and could only grin. ‘Believe me - and they work too. Very imaginative, the Germans.’

  I was in a strange kind of hell. Guilt and desire coursed through me. How could I possibly posses this woman and remain loyal to the memory of the men who died on that dusty road and the people of the Glen? My fevered mind churned over the problem.

  ‘What on earth is this supposed to be?’ she laughed, holding up the base of a smashed bust, ‘it’s some trophy.’

  My face fell for a moment. I plucked it out of her fingers. ‘It was a bust of Hitler.’ Then I remembered John’s face when I decided I wanted it and a slow smile spread across my face.

  The transportation in mind was an easy thing.

  *

  I found myself once more passing through that sun drenched ruined village. Dust lay heavily on the ground and in the air.

  One of the men coughed, my head snapped round. ‘You all right Mc Donald?’

  ‘Fine Sir, it’s just this dust,’ the young private replied. He was exhausted. We all were.

  ‘Keep it together lad, we’ve a long way to go and I doubt if we’ll ever be back again.’

  ‘Do you think so Sir?’

  I nodded. ‘The Russians are knocking on Hitler’s door. One way or another he’s finished. Word is, the Nazis are fleeing Berlin and Germany. You’ll be lucky if the war lasts a few more days. By the time our rest period’s over, it will be finished.’

  ‘Heard that one before,’ Black Tam muttered.

  ‘Have you ever heard me say it before Tam?’

  ‘No Sir, can’t say I have.’

  ‘Well I’ve said it now Tam.’

  He cracked a rare grin. ‘Good enough for me Sir.’

  ‘What do you think he’ll do now Sir? Hitler I mean,’ Mc Donald questioned.

  ‘He has three choices; escape, surrender or kill himself. If the crafty beggar gets away I don’t know what will happen; but if he doesn’t, here’s hoping he’ll probably kill himself.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Surrender isn’t an option for the likes of him, Mc Donald. Maybe if it was the western army knocking on his door, but the Russians would drag him screaming and hang him from his own balcony, and he knows it.’

  And there it was, right in front of me. A bust of the murderer himself, sitting as nicely as you like on top of a big pile of rubble. I had to have it. I held up a hand and men dove for cover.

  John scrambled up. ‘What is it?’

  ‘There.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘No, look, right in front of us on that pile of rubble.’

  His eyes focused and his face fell. ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘I am. I want it.’

  ‘No way Alasdair, it’s probably connected to an ammo dump. Touch it and you’ll probably send the whole town sky high.’

  ‘I know. I’ll un-booby trap it.’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘Aye, so?’

  ‘Then you can do it your bloody self then.’

  ‘Ok.’

  I walked over to the bust and started examining it. After a few minutes John appeared at my side shouldering his Thompson. ‘I swear to God Alasdair Sinclair, if we die this day of all days I’m going to kick your arse all the way down into hell.’

  I laughed and slapped him on the back. ‘Friend John, take a good hold and don’t let it slip.’

  We lay down either side of it. John’s muscular arm wrapped itself around Hitler’s neck in a deadly grip. ‘If only it were the murderer himself,’ he muttered darkly.

  I slowly began to clear away the debris from around its base. Halfway there and there was still no sign of a wire. A splash landed by my arm. I looked up into John’s lathered face and shoved a fist into the hole to help support it and cleared one side completely, there was still no sign of a device.

  I pulled away the last brick, my heart in my mouth. Nothing, it was completely clear. By now John’s clothes were soaked in sweat.

  ‘That’s it, it’s clear.’

  He rolled onto his back and pulled the bust on to his lap. ‘It wasn’t booby trapped?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Jesus!’ he breathed. I laughed. John pushed his face into mine. ‘One day Alasdair Sinclair, I know not when, I’m going to give you the biggest beating of your life, and when you wake up you’re going to know it was for this day and for this moment.’ He thrust the bust into my lap, ‘and you can bloody carry it yourself.’

  Still laughing I opened my rucksack and placed it inside, padding it well.

  *

  ‘That was cruel of you,’ she accused.

  ‘I suppose it was, but if I hadn’t picked it up I would be dead now. Killed by that…’ my words faltered and the darkness descended. I felt the black rage rise from the depths of my greatest despair. She stepped back in fear from my look.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I whispered. I had to get out. Almost running I grabbed a shotgun from a rack in passing and headed off into the hills. My feet found their way to that ancient circle of stones. I felt their power radiate into me.

  ‘Why, why, why?’ I screamed. But those silent sentinels never answered. Why should they? They’d probably been asked that question many times before.

  Chapter 12

  John saw the Laird almost run from the house and knew instinctively his destination. He ran up the stairs. On opening the door to the corridor he found Robyn sitting on a stool with the bottom of the bust still in her hands.

  John’s heart froze. That bloody piece of stone! He should never have gone back and fetched it. The Doctor heard the commotion and came to investigate.

  There was fear in the girl’s eyes. ‘What did I do, why did he just run away?’

  John held out his hand and she placed the piece on it. The Doctor leaned over his shoulder. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘Aye Doc, it’s what’s left of the Hitler bust.’

  ‘Oh dear. It had quite an effect on him in hospital.’

  ‘Still has if he dwells on it for too long.’

  ‘What’s wrong? He was telling me about how you found it and then … he changed. He was even laughing.’

  John smiled but it was bittersweet. ‘It’s a sad tale really. Much of it is guilt at surviving when so many lost their lives. We had done so well. Throughout the war almost 80 men from the Glen served with us. We only lost 10 outright. Another 15 or so wounded in one way or another.’

  ‘That’s pretty good, considering,’ admitted the Doctor.

  ‘There were over 50 men from the Glen with us that day. Oh we were so proud of ourselves. Of that number only 10 men made it back to CarnMo’r unscathed. Another 15 with various degrees of wounds.’

  ‘You lost half your number!’ asked Robyn shocked. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The Gods of war decided the men of CarnMo’r had gotten off too lightly was what happened. We were 20 miles behind the front line, on our way home we thought. The Laird had declared the war would be over in a few days. He was right. Within a few days Hitler committed suicide and the Germans surrendered, but we were out of it and all of us felt it. Our spirits were high and we were only a few miles from where we were to be
picked up. Young Rory Mc Donald had only been with us for a few months and wasn’t quite as hardy as the rest of us. He fell out.’

  *

  Alasdair turned as young Rory staggered to the side of the road. ‘Keep them going John, I’ll see to the lad.’

  ‘Ok’

  ‘How are you doing young fellow?’

  ‘I’m sorry Sir.’

  ‘No need to be sorry lad, but we’ve only a few miles to go. Do you think you can keep up?’

  ‘I’ll try Sir.’

  Alasdair checked the young man’s equipment and tightened up a few straps, took his own water bottle and poured half the contents over Rory’s head then gave him a drink. ‘Better now?’

  ‘Grand Sir, thank you.’ Rory managed a weak smile.

  They tagged on at the end of the company as an American P51 Mustang roared over the column and circled. The men waved and the pilot wagged his wings in acknowledgement before disappearing.

  There was no warning; surprise was complete. Alasdair and Rory were the first to fall; Alasdair smashed to the ground, and Rory cut in two. Cannon and machine gun fire swept through the marching men. Only those at the front had any chance of taking cover.

  John dived head first into a ditch. A cannon shell exploded next to him peppering his side with metal fragments. He barely felt it. A jeep mounted with a 50 calibre had swerved out of harm’s way. He sprinted to it. An American sergeant had stood up in the back and was frantically waving towards the aircraft.

  John’s fist lashed out and the sergeant tumbled out over the tailboard.

  ‘Hey, what the hell?’ shouted the driver. John’s boot caught him just under the chin. The man’s head shot back with a click and he slumped unconscious. He cocked the 50mm and sighted on the P51 as it swung around for another pass. He held his fire.

  As its wing tips laced with fire, John fired. Not only was he a crack shot, but also he had been knocking down birds on the wing since he was 9 years old. Sparks flailed from the Mustang’s propeller, it banked sharply and John peppered its underside.

  The engine coughed once, twice, then stalled. Black smoke poured from the exhausts. John re-sighted and poured fire into the retreating plane. Perspex danced in the sunlight as he blasted the cockpit. Its nose dipped and the Mustang ploughed into a field.