* * *
I was busy over the next few days. The men’s arms had been confiscated, of course, when they were arrested, and I did my best to recover what I could, bullying and threatening, bribing and charming where necessary. I pawned two brooches that Jared had given me as a farewell present, and bought enough food to ensure that the men of Lallybroch ate as well as the army in general—poorly as that might be.
I talked my way into the cells of the prison, and spent some time in treating the prisoners’ ailments, ranging from scurvy and the more generalized malnutrition common in winter, to chafing sores, chilblains, arthritis, and a variety of respiratory ailments.
I made the rounds of those chieftains and lords still in Edinburgh—not many—who might be helpful to Jamie, if his visit to Stirling should fail. I didn’t think it would, but it seemed wise to take precautions.
And among the other activities of my days, I made time to see Alex Randall once a day. I took pains to come in the mornings, so as not to use up his time with Mary. Alex slept little, and that little, ill; consequently, he tended to be tired and drooping in the morning, not wanting to talk, but always smiling in welcome when I arrived. I would give him a light mixture of mint and lavender, with a few drops of poppy syrup stirred in; this would generally allow him a few hours of sleep, so that he could be alert when Mary arrived in the afternoon.
Aside from me and Mary, I had seen no other visitors at the top of the building. I was therefore surprised, coming up the stairs to his room one morning, to hear voices behind the closed door.
I knocked once, briefly, as was our agreed custom, and let myself in. Jonathan Randall was sitting by his brother’s bed, clad in his captain’s uniform of red and fawn. He rose at my entrance and bowed correctly, face cold.
“Madam,” he said.
“Captain,” I said. We then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at each other, each unwilling to go further.
“Johnny,” said Alex’s hoarse voice from the bed. It had a note of coaxing, as well as one of command, and his brother shrugged irritably when he heard it.
“My brother has summoned me to give you a bit of news,” he said, tightlipped. He wore no wig this morning, and with his dark hair tied back, his resemblance to his brother was startling. Pale and frail as Alex was, he looked like Jonathan’s ghost.
“You and Mr. Fraser have been kind to my Mary,” Alex said, rolling onto his side to look at me. “And to me as well. I…knew of my brother’s bargain with you”—the faintest of pinks rose in his cheeks—“but I know, too, what you and your husband did for Mary…in Paris.” He licked his lips, cracked and dry from the constant heat in the room. “I think you should hear the news Johnny brought from the Castle yesterday.”
Jack Randall eyed me with dislike, but he was good as his word.
“Hawley has succeeded Cope, as I told you earlier that he would,” he said. “Hawley has little gift for leadership, bar a certain blind confidence in the men under his command. Whether that will stand him in better stead than did Cope’s cannon—” He shrugged impatiently.
“Be that as it may, General Hawley has been directed to march north to recover Stirling Castle.”
“Has he?” I said. “Do you know how many troops he has?”
Randall nodded shortly. “He has eight thousand troops at the moment, thirteen hundred of them cavalry. He is also in daily expectation of the arrival of six thousand Hessians.” He frowned, thinking. “I have heard that the chief of clan Campbell is sending a thousand men to join with Hawley’s forces as well, but I cannot say whether that information is reliable; there seems no way of predicting what Scots will do.”
“I see.” This was serious; the Highland army at this point had between six and seven thousand men. Against Hawley, minus his expected reinforcements, they might manage. To wait until his Hessians and Campbells arrived was clearly madness, to say nothing of the fact that the Highlanders’ fighting skills were much better suited to attack than defense. This news had best reach Lord George Murray at once.
Jack Randall’s voice called me back from my ruminations.
“Good day to you, Madam,” he said, formal as ever, and there was no trace of humanity on the hard, handsome features as he bowed to me and took his leave.
“Thank you,” I said to Alex Randall, waiting for Jonathan to descend the long, twisting stair before leaving myself. “I appreciate it very much.”
He nodded. The shadows under his eyes were pronounced; another bad night.
“You’re welcome,” he said simply. “I suppose you’ll be leaving some of the medicine for me? I imagine it may be some time before I see you again.”
I halted, struck by his assumption that I would go myself to Stirling. That was what every fiber of my being urged me to do, but there was the matter of the men in the Tolbooth to be considered.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But yes; I’ll leave the medicine.”