...
Wait, this place looks familiar, you think.
"Cocknammon Rock!" you exclaim. "Didn't the English use
it for ambushes?" you ask, racking your brain for information you
remember hearing from your historian husband.
Jamie, listening to your advice, steers the horse up besides Dougal.
They talk in a language you dimly identify as Gaelic and Dougal rides
forward.
Suddenly, cries break out and it is chaotic for a few moments. Jamie
rides to the side of the road, dumps you unceremoniously into a gorse
bush, and gallops away. A bit shaken, you climb out of the bush and
begin walking the other way, picking gorse out of your hair. You get
about five or ten minutes on the road when a hand comes out of the
dark and grabs your arm. You feel a scream rising in your throat.
"Dinna worry, lass, 'tis only me", says Jamie.
"That's what I was afraid of", you reply, but deep down you
are relieved that it was Jamie who found you and not one of the other
men.
"Come on, the others'll be waitin' for us," says Jamie. You
take this opportunity to protest.
"I'm not going with you", you say, digging your heels into
the ground. But Jamie doesn't appear to be angry at your proclamation.
In fact, he seems to be amused.
"Oh, yes ye are", he says, and turns to walk. "And what
are you going to do if I don't, cut my throat?" you inquire
sarcastically.
He surveys you and then looks at the road. "Weel, ye dinna look
too heavy, and it's no that far to the men, so I suppose I'll throw ye
ower my shoulder and carry ye", he replies casually.
"No! You can't, you'll hurt your shoulder", you reply
worredly.
"Then I s'pose ye'll be comin' wi' me?"
"Oh, all right", you agree, agitated. The two of you start
walking towards the rest of the men.
The ride went uneventful for a few hours. If you would call riding
with a large group of Scottish warriors armed to the teeth uneventful.
But to the standards you are becoming used to, it was quite
uneventful.
