STAGS 5, page 4
Ty touched the winged creature delicately, and one of the rotator blades began to spin gently. ‘Who will operate it?’ she asked.
‘I will,’ Ratio said, in a Savage echo of what Henry had said in the medieval STAGS Crypt. ‘I’ll come with you.’
We all looked at each other. This felt a bit weird – first there’d been the three murderers – Me, Shafeen and Nel. Then Ty had joined us. Then the most unlikely ally of all – Henry de Warlencourt. Now this tall young geek, a guy we didn’t know at all, was joining our band of brothers. Everyone looked doubtful except for Ty, who was beaming. She’d obviously found a kindred spirit, a social-justice warrior to join our platoon. ‘Excellent,’ she said.
But Henry was not so keen. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not on any account. I’m not joining forces with some overgrown tennis ball who’s been spying on my family for years.’
‘Fine,’ said Ratio, fronting up to him. ‘Then you won’t have the HAWK. And this thing will never end.’
Medieval and Savage glared at one another, clear dislike on both sides.
‘Look,’ I said, turning to Ratio, ‘you’ve got the drone. You can record the hunt, and cover whatever happens outdoors. And Henry’s got access to the family. He can get us into Castle MacLeod. He’s a proper Country Gent.’
Ratio sneered. ‘More like a proper Gentry C—’
‘NO!’ I blurted, drowning out the terrible word. ‘You need to put aside this shit and work together. You both need each other. You can’t do it alone.’
Neither one moved. I wasn’t getting through to them. Clearly I had to speak in a language they understood. ‘Ratio,’ I appealed to him. ‘It’s like the Justice League. Batman and Superman were mortal enemies, but they teamed up to fight Lex Luthor. And Henry,’ I searched my mind for some reference he would get – this was harder for me. But I found the answer deep in my memory banks: the first time Henry’s cohorts had threatened Shafeen it had been in a history lesson at STAGS about the Battle of Hattin. ‘The papacy and the Holy Roman Empire were ancient enemies, but they joined forces on the Crusades to kick Saladin’s butt.’
Ratio looked convinced, Henry less so.
‘Henry.’ I laid a hand on his tweedy arm and played the only card I had left. ‘I’m asking you.’ It was unfair; I was exploiting his feelings for me, and I could feel Shafeen’s suspicious eyes upon us, but this was too important.
‘All right,’ Henry grunted. He held out a hand to Ratio. Ratio looked at it as if he didn’t know quite what to do with it; for a moment I thought he was going to refuse the gesture, but then I clicked that it was more likely that he just didn’t get a lot of handshakes.
Finally, Ratio clasped the proffered hand with his long fingers and the two young men shook.
We had a deal.
We stayed the night in Glasgow, at a hotel near Central Station. Henry wanted to pay for everybody, but of course Shafeen wasn’t having that, so he and Henry split the cost of one room and Nel, Ty and I shared another. To our relief Nel quietly paid in the morning. Ratio hired a people carrier from Hertz, as he was the only one who was old enough, and picked us up first thing.
The black Peli case containing the HAWK nestled safely in the boot. Ty sat in the front seat next to Ratio and the two of them chattered about Savage things all the way through the Highlands. I sat in the back, in a rather uncomfortable Henry/Shafeen sandwich, but at least I was free to admire the scenery, which was, frankly, breathtaking. The hedgerows were studded with yellow blossoms and the hillsides carpeted with purple heather, which gave off a sweet, heady scent. I may have drifted off to sleep a couple of times but other than that I did a lot of thinking. The drive gave me plenty of time to go over what had happened in India. It had been a life-changing trip. I had slept with Shafeen for the first time, on a Jaipur rooftop, and then Henry had declared his love for me in a hospital corridor. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I lolled against one shoulder and then the other: I’d wake to see Shafeen’s dark hair stirring in the breeze of the open window, then the next time I looked he’d been exchanged for Henry, blond hair glittering in the summer sun.
We stopped for breakfast in Loch Lomond and for lunch in Glencoe. I watched the two young men interact with each other. They were civil, even guardedly friendly, but there was no doubt that they were deadly rivals. Shafeen instinctively disliked Henry but was grateful to him for saving his beloved father’s life, and Henry instinctively liked Shafeen but couldn’t forgive him for being with me. I felt Henry watching us too and knew he’d divined what had happened between me and Shafeen – that our relationship had ratcheted up to the next level. I knew then that the best thing I could do for Shafeen and me would be to stay as far away from Henry as possible – but since Henry and I were destined to attend the Red Hunt together that was going to be difficult.
By the afternoon we were on the ferry from Mallaig to Skye and we all got out of the car, tacitly spreading out as much as we could to enjoy some fresh air and space after so many hours in the car. The sun was shining and the ferry was picking up speed over the silvery water as the gulls dipped and cried. I went to the very front of the boat and, of course, threw out my arms, Leonardo DiCaprio-in-Titanic style. ‘I’m the king of the world!’ I yelled into the breeze.
‘Are you?’ said an amused voice.
I whipped around, feeling foolish. Henry was beside me.
‘It’s a quote from … never mind.’
We both leaned on the rail. He did look a little Leonardo DiCaprio actually, with his blue eyes narrowed against the wind and his blond hair flopping in his eyes. I didn’t quite trust myself to look at him, so looked ahead into my uncertain future. A lump of land lay ahead of us. ‘Is that Skye?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Land of your fathers.’
‘Of my fathers?’ I said, confused.
‘Yes. Skye is the ancestral home of the Clan MacDonald.’
‘My spelling? Or McDonald like the golden arches?’ It was suddenly really important that it was mine.
‘Your spelling,’ he said. ‘You’re going home.’ He gazed at the misty isle. ‘You’ll like it. It’s beautiful.’ He shot me a glance. ‘Like you.’
As ever when Henry gave me a compliment, I didn’t know what to do with my face. The conversation was getting dangerous, so I edged away along the rail a bit. I studied the island as it grew gradually closer and searched for something to say. ‘Where’s Castle MacLeod? Will we be able to see it from the boat?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s at the far north of the island. Quite remote.’
I could see the dark shoulders of hills hunching up from the landmass. ‘What are those mountains?’
‘The Cuillin.’
‘Coolin?’ I repeated.
‘Close enough,’ he smiled. ‘That one closest to us, he’s Sgùrr nan Gillean.’ My gaze followed his pointing finger. ‘That big fellow in the middle, Sgùrr Alasdair, the highest peak in the Cuillin.’ I noticed he talked of them like they were people.
‘And what about that broad peak in the distance?’
His face shuttered. ‘That’s Ben Horneval.’
Something about his voice when he named that particular mountain made me look at him again, however dangerous that might be. ‘And what’s special about that one?’
‘It’s where the Lammas Eve celebrations take place.’ He seemed reluctant to say any more, so I looked back at the mountains.
Even though it was a sunny day, the rock looked black as night. ‘Why are they dark like that?’
‘They’re formed of black volcanic rock, so they actually absorb the light. They’re known as the Black Cuillin.’
No wonder they looked so ominous. The thought of being in an isolated castle, and the sight of the mysterious black mountains, invited a feeling of foreboding to creep over my skin. It was a nice day but still I shivered.
Henry stroked my goosebumpy forearm with the back of his scarred fingers. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you the whole time.’
I gave him a tight smile. I could feel eyes on us, and turned to see Shafeen, standing at the bows, watching us like a hawk.
7
Shafeen didn’t say anything when we got back in the car.
Ty surrendered the passenger seat to Henry, because Henry knew the island, and Shafeen sat in the back with me, arm firmly clamped round my shoulders. I nestled into his neck and kissed the edge of his rigid jaw, just to let Henry know where things stood. He saw us in the wing mirror and smiled slightly, as if he knew exactly what I was doing.
Nel, oblivious to these undercurrents, took charge. ‘Right. The rest of us need to find somewhere to stay before we drop Greer off at her castle.’
‘I think I have that covered,’ said Henry. ‘There’s a peel tower on the castle land. It belongs to the family but it’s disused.’
‘What’s a peel tower?’ asked Ty.
‘It’s a small, fortified keep – sort of a free-standing mini castle,’ said Henry. ‘Lords – or lairds as they’re known in Scotland – would build them on their land for defence. They were essentially watchtowers where you could light signal fires on the roof if anything untoward happened. Of course what happened was that disaffected rebels captured them, set up camp and sulked there until they could move against the nobles.’
‘Sounds ideal,’ said Ratio pointedly.
‘Cass and I did it up one summer when we were younger,’ said Henry, as if Ratio hadn’t spoken, ‘as a little den for us. We’d stay there overnight sometimes. It’s got hot water and electricity – quite comfortable really.’
‘And you just happen to carry a key around with you at all times, do you?’ asked Shafeen waspishly.
‘No,’ said Henry calmly. ‘But I know where one is.’
We drove through the incredible scenery of Skye, and the Black Cuillin towered over us. I kept my eye on them and wondered what the ‘Lammas Eve celebrations’ entailed, and why Henry seemed so reluctant to talk about them. Ben Horneval wore a black cape of scree that looked as if it were made of glittering chips of jet. I imagined trying to climb up it – or run away down it. But halfway up the hill I could see some people moving about; they were building something with sticks, probably some sort of bonfire.
We saw quite a bit of wildlife too. A deer bounced across the road, causing Ratio to brake, and then a fox slunk along the hedgerow. It was as if all our greatest hits had come back for one last appearance as this saga of ours came to an end. No tigers, but at one point I did see a bird of prey hovering above the heather, somehow holding himself almost still in the air. ‘Look!’ I pointed.
Henry glanced upwards. ‘There’s the medieval version of your HAWK, Ratio,’ he said drily. ‘A sea eagle. Keep your eye on him, he’ll stoop in a minute.’
‘Stoop?’ I echoed.
‘It’s the breakneck dive they do when they go in for the kill. He’s spotted something he wants; he’s just waiting for the right moment.’ He might have been talking about us. I watched the sea eagle out of the window and, sure enough, the bird stopped hovering and seemed to hang in the air for a fraction of a second, before folding his wings and seeming to dive to earth. He fell from sight, but I imagined him sitting on the grass, munching some poor mouse who hadn’t even seen him coming. ‘Skye is great for spotting birds,’ said Henry comfortably, as if he was some sort of tour guide. ‘And flying them.’
‘You do that?’ I said.
‘Falconry? Yes. We do it at Castle MacLeod.’
‘Of course you do,’ muttered Shafeen.
‘I bet you do too,’ said Henry, amused, flicking him a glance over his shoulder. ‘I’ve heard of the shikra hawks in India. I reckon your father taught you too. Tell me I’m wrong.’
Shafeen was silent, and Henry smiled at the ribbon of road unravelling in front of us, shaking his head slightly. ‘When are you going to understand that you and I are not that different?’ he said, like some supervillain in a movie. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t teach Greer while you were out there.’
‘We were kind of busy,’ snapped Shafeen.
Henry looked at me in the mirror, his blue gaze very direct. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll teach you, Greer, when we’re at the castle. It’ll be my pleasure.’
I could feel Shafeen fuming beside me – despite our new intimacy, Henry had got one up on him.
‘You keep saying when we’re at the castle,’ I said, trying to get away from this dangerous duel. ‘When are you going to do your back-from-the-dead bit? I know you planned it for Boxing Day at Longcross, but that got sort of interrupted.’
‘Well, I thought I’d let you settle in for the first night, so it doesn’t look like a big conspiracy,’ said Henry comfortably. ‘They can’t know that we are on the same side. Then I thought I’d make an appearance at The Gathering, tomorrow night, and attend as your partner.’
I could feel Shafeen bristling.
‘What’s The Gathering?’ asked Ty.
‘A ball,’ said Henry. ‘The ladies wear lace, and the gentlemen wear their clan tartans. The Gathering opens the weekend on the Friday night – all the guests and some local families. Then the Red Hunt will be on the Saturday, on Lammas Day. Then it’s the Lammas Eve festivities that night.’
‘Wait,’ said Nel. ‘Isn’t Lammas Eve the night before, like Christmas Eve?’
‘No. Here it just means the evening of Lammas Day. That’s when the festival is.’
‘And what happens at the festival?’
‘All manner of things,’ said Henry mysteriously, but once again he shut down, as if there was something he wasn’t saying.
We drove ever northward until we passed a road sign saying DUNVEGAN. ‘Nearly there,’ said Henry. ‘We’re on MacLeod land.’ We looked around us at the fantastic scenery – golden shafts of godlight breaking through sullen clouds to brighten the silver sea and the pewter mountains. There, in the middle of the landscape, was a lone tower, tall and crenellated like a rook on a chessboard. I half expected it to start sliding around, like Howl’s Moving Castle, but it stayed still long enough for us to pull up the short gravel drive to the front of it. It was a tall and skinny building, with one door and two windows above it, and it looked like it had stood on this spot for hundreds of years. ‘This is the Peel Tower,’ said Henry.
We unfurled ourselves from the car, stretching and yawning, gulping the salty island air. Henry hunted around by the little white door, dislodged a stone from the wall, and a silver key fell into his hand. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Just where we left it.’ He put the stone back carefully and fitted the key into the little arched door.
Inside was a comfortable-looking living room, with a fireplace, threadbare sofas with tartan cushions, and the inevitable stags’ antlers on the wall. No telly, of course, because we were in Medieval-land, but a bookcase crammed with ancient-looking tomes. It was chilly, as the walls were bare stone, but you could see that the Peel Tower could be cosy in the evening when the fire was lit. ‘There’s a little bathroom and kitchen through there,’ said Henry, pointing to a side door, ‘and the bedrooms are upstairs.’
He took us through a stone arch up a rickety staircase to a bedroom with a double bed covered with a tartan throw. A second bedroom, and a second bed, was just above the first. ‘Cass and I had a room each when we camped here,’ said Henry, ‘but I’m afraid you’ll have to share.’ Then he climbed further, pushing open a little trapdoor leading to the roof. We emerged, gasping and windswept, and stood there slack-jawed as we gazed at the incredible scenery – the mighty mountains, the rain-swollen clouds and the sunlight playing on the heather. The four sides of the square of battlements looked out to the four points of the compass. ‘MacLeod land as far as the eye can see,’ said Henry matter-of-factly. As usual, the de Warlencourts were masters of all they surveyed, even if it was only by marriage.
‘This was your childhood den?’ said Ty incredulously. ‘It’s quite the Wendy house. We played in a run-down maintenance shed on the Limehouse Estate.’
‘You think this is good?’ said Henry, pointing. ‘That’s Castle MacLeod.’
We looked towards the coastline to see an enormous grey edifice, a sprawling complex of towers, battlements and ramparts, which almost looked like it was carved into the very cliffs themselves. My stomach flipped over. I couldn’t believe that by nightfall I would be a guest in that ancient pile – alone, without any of my rebel allies.
As we headed back to the staircase, we passed a wrought-iron cradle that looked a bit like a medieval barbecue. ‘What’s that?’ asked Nel.
‘That’s the fire basket for the beacon,’ said Henry. ‘The castellan would light it to give the alarm if there was danger.’
‘Better spark it up now,’ I said.
I was joking, but I meant it too.
8
I felt almost jealous as the others began discussing where they would sleep.
It was decided that Ty and Nel would share the top bedroom, and Shafeen and Ratio the lower one. Henry, for the one night he would be in the Peel Tower, would sleep on the couch in the living room. I wished heartily that I could stay in the little castle with them, instead of going off to the big one.
It was decided that Ratio should be the one to drive me to Castle MacLeod, as he was the only one who would be unknown to the twins, should they be there to greet me. Invitation in one hand, wheelie suitcase in the other, I went out to the car. I hadn’t brought much – just jammies and underwear, because I knew very well by now that great houses dressed you up like a doll. Ratio, in his role as my taxi driver, was already in costume – Henry had found him a battered old Barbour jacket and a flat tweed cap. With the green hair and slacker clothes covered he looked refined and oddly aristocratic. ‘You almost look like one of them,’ I joked, still slightly shy of this tall young stranger. Ratio smiled and rolled his eyes, reassuring me. ‘God forbid,’ he said, as he opened the back door for me to get in.
