The High Road (On Hold)

Chapter Two

          By the time his mother had reached 52 years old, Stéaphan Campbell was 21. His mother was too frail to work and his father died in the wars with England, so he joined the Inverness castle militia at the young age of 16. It was a hard life, but it ensured a steady flow of income to support him and his mother. Being a member of the militia also meant that he would not be sent to the war raging in the south. Leave that task to the real soldiers, Scotland's finest troops. Stéaphan's father, Déirdach, served under Malcolm, King of Scots, in a heavy pike infantry unit. He died in battle against the English, cut down by armored swordsmen.

          When Stéaphan was 18, rebel brigands assaulted the castle Inverness. The officer assigned to the unit took a javelin to the chest and bled out. Soon thereafter, the young enlistee took command of the unit and repelled the attackers. For his acts of bravery and leadership, the Inverness military governor, Seamus O'Connor, promoted Stéaphan to junior officer and assigned him a unit of 75 spearmen. Elated at the offer, the young man accepted, but only under one condition: he be able to appoint Meriadoc Lochlain as his second-in-command.

"Looks like you'll have to be calling me sir now, eh?" Stéaphan jested not long after his promotion.

"Hah! Ye'd sooner find me strollin' down London flying English colors!" retorted Meriadoc.

The two had joined the militia at the same time and trained together almost their entire service block. They became good friends and better brothers-in-arms.

"Ach! I tell you I cannae stand many more of these drills that O'Connor has us doing! The Devil will be baptized before the English sods get this far north!" said Meriadoc.

"Calm yourself, Meri. The governor wouldn't have us do this every morning unless it was for good reason. Take your lads to the woods and begin your ground fighting drills. And make sure nobody breaks any bones this time!" instructed Stéaphan, knowing full well how much his friend hated monotonous drilling.

          The war in the south was of no real concern to the young officer. His men would keep their position in the north and life would continue as it always has. It must be hard for the English, he often thought. They have to fight us and the French. Life had changed somewhat in recent months due to the war. Sometimes troops from the south would be sent to Inverness to be re-outfitted and receive respite. It was always a sobering sight when the injured men would pass through the castle gates and into the courtyard. Some men were missing fingers and toes, others had lost an arm or a leg.

"I cannae help but feel bad for the poor sods, Meri", said Stéaphan, gazing out into the courtyard. "That could be us, but these boys take all the abuse."

"Saint Andrew preserve them", Meriadoc murmured, signing the Holy Cross over his chest. Stéaphan did the same.

"Why does the Pope not do something about it? England has been at war another Catholic country for years and His Holiness does nothing", Meri muttered, his voice sounding angry.

"The Pope is busy with the feuding Italian states to pay us much heed. Besides, the Scots have been at war with the English for ages. Did ye not grow up with tales of Englishmen with sharpened teeth and devil horns?" asked the commander.

"Oh aye, I did! Imagine what I felt like as a young lad the first time I saw an Englishman! I think he was more afraid of the boy half his age!"

The war-torn troops never stayed longer than a month. After they sharpened their blades and got fresh armor, off they went.

The evenings in the castle were almost always lively. All the officers and senior enlisted gathered in the great hall for their meals, while the junior enlisted took their food in the barracks. Even though the cooks only served ale on special occasions, the troops were always able to find a way to pilfer enough booze to get jolly drunk.

"I never understood drink", Stéaphan told the other men at the table. "I feel a man should always have his wits about him"

"Most of these men haven't any wits to lose", chimed Meriadoc, a proud smile on his face.

"Well lads, I think I'll be done for the evening" said Stéaphan with eyes slowly closing.

"Always he is first to bed!" yelled Meri to the men at the table, gesturing to his friend. "He must know something we don't. You don't happen to have a bonny lass tucked under your bed do ye?"

The table erupted with laughter as Stéaphan smiled and waved his comrades, then departed the hall. He did not, however, have a woman to call his own. It never really gave him much thought. There are plenty of women within the walls of the fortress, but none of them appealed to him very much. He walked along the courtyard, his feet dragging slightly due to exhaustion from today's drills. There was a nip in the air and the cold breeze brought a shiver down the young captain's spine.

He pushed the door of his quarters open and slipped off his roughspun tunic. His muscles appeared more defined in the dim light of his dying fire pit. Tiredly, he tumbled into his bed, pondering on what Meriadoc had said. Should I find myself a woman? Perhaps, but that's the task of another day. His cold sheets clung to his warm-blooded body and lured him into the arms of sleep.