Chapter 3: Well met

Scott took it easy riding in the dark, trusting to Albannach's sure footed-ness to take them safely away from Kilchrennan. After he had judged they had ridden perhaps three miles he turned off of the track and holed up amongst some trees, eating some cold food from the sack the monks provided before curling up and falling asleep.

The next morning he was up early and began his journey towards Ayrshire. He reasoned it would be safer to travel on the north side of Loch Lomond, Murdoch could possibly have alerted Eochaid and his men to his appearance, using Scott's own introduction of carrier pigeons.

He skirted carefully a small camp at Rubha Aird Eònain (modern day Rowardennan) and continued southeast down the side of Loch Lomond. Nightfall saw him drawing close to Cill Earnain (modern day Killearn) and once again he scouted for a place to rest for the night.

He knew he was now deep into Eochaid's territory and he had to be more careful than ever. He felt confident Albannach at his best could outrun anything they might come up against, but already the proud beast was looking out of shape given the meagre diet he was having to survive on. Scott could have killed for a bag of grain with which to feed his friend.

Scott's concern about carrier pigeon messages seemed to have been well founded, as he noticed increased numbers of armed men out abroad the next day. He continually had to detour through wooded areas to avoid them and as a consequence his progress was slowed significantly. He was headed for Glaschu (modern day Glasgow) as the closest place he knew where he would be able to ford the great Clyde Water, which he needed to do if he was to reach Ayrshire. Once across the Clyde he should be safe.

His route took him down Strathblane and through open country. By midafternoon he had crossed the Antonine wall - a left-over from Roman occupation of Scotland - and was heading for the Clyde, creeping down through the Old Kilpatrick hills. He stopped for the night not far from the banks of the Clyde, opposite Rinn Friù (Modern day Renfrew) which Scott remembered in his own history was known as the cradle of the Royal Stewarts.

He kept a close eye on the path that ran alongside the River Clyde and could see there was a lot of traffic, most of it armed men who were clearly patrolling. He lay down to try and rest, thinking a night attempt would probably be his best option. He let his mind deal with some of the questions and issues that had been bothering him since his return.

Murdoch's descent to take over Dalriada could be considered one way all of his improvements had not affected history. While he had tried not to consider the 'all of Dalriada slaughtered' theory, Murdoch's treachery amounted to much the same thing. If Murdoch wasn't maintaining the schools etc, that would explain why they had had no impact.

Scott couldn't shake the idea that Murdoch's greed however, would at least mean he continued to use Scott's innovations such as long bows, crossbows and certainly all of the farming improvements.

He re-assured himself that this explanation was unlikely still. The parallel universe theory remained the most likely to him.

Once it was fully dark he led Albannach out of cover and down towards the river. He immediately saw that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought as there were lit torches all along the banks, clearly armed men in place to stop a crossing.

Perhaps his luck had to run out sometime and that time was now as he blundered into a group of infantry who happened to be marching between two of the lit areas, not picking them up in the darkness. Scott lashed out with his sword at the closest of the men and swung himself up onto Albannach's back.

"Ride my friend, ride as fast as you can for us both!"

Albannach almost seemed to rock backwards slightly as he gathered his hind legs under him and then leapt forward with extreme urgency. They were past the group instantly and headed for the river. Scott could see more men converging on the river from east and west, torches lighting their way. He gauged Albannach's speed versus that of the armed groups and thought they would make it okay.

His calculations had to be revised moments later when he spotted a deep pit directly in their path and Albannach had to swerve to go round it. This did two things: it meant they would take longer to reach the river; and they were now heading towards the group of infantry that was running towards them from the east. Scott could see that it was going to be very tight indeed, looking with every second as if the infantry would reach the river before them.

He could see the swords and spear-tips glinting in the torchlight and knew he wasn't going to beat them. He was faced with two choices, veer at right angles and try to find another crossing point somewhere else, or try and win through the infantry. His judgement was that the longer he remained on this side of the Clyde, the worse condition Albannach would be in, he wanted to cross now and that meant taking them on.

There were perhaps half a dozen in the group, three armed with spears and he saw these as the greatest danger. He used his knees to angle Albannach slightly further east so that they were approaching closest to the swordsmen and at the very last moment hauled on the horses mane.

"Jump my friend, jump!" He screamed.

It says a lot for the trust between them that the horse did exactly as he asked, gathering itself and leaping high into the air, leaping into the void. The manoeuvre caught the infantry by surprise and Albannach soared over their heads, Scott using his sword to ward off the only spear that came close to them. And then they were falling into the darkness; Scott preparing to leap off of Albannach's back as soon as they hit the water. When they did so the shock of the cold water almost undid Scott. He still had the rucksack on his back and it filled with water, dragging him down. Only the strength and courage of Albannach kept him afloat as he hung on to the big horse's mane as it surged powerfully out into the river.

He was fortunate that the river was only a few hundred yards wide at this point and it wasn't long before Albannach was dragging him out on the other side, both of them now tired, wet and cold. Once he had recovered his breath Scott scrabbled around to pull up dry grass and used this to dry Albannach off as well as he could. They both limped forward into the night until Scott found some trees and fell exhausted onto his front.

When morning broke Scott looked through the food sack to see what was still fit to eat. There had been some stale bread but this was no longer stale but soaked. He found two carrots and fed these to Albannach, the horse wolfing them down quickly. Scott now pressed on for Kilmarnock. He estimated he had about twenty-five miles to go but the thought of food for himself and Albannach as well as the possibility that his family and friends might be there was enough to spur him on.

The going here was easier too, Ayrshire being altogether flatter, and Albannach seemed to be ever willing to carry Scott wherever he directed him. It was already dark when he spied lights in the distance, many lights that could only be the settlement at Kilmarnock. Tired and exhausted, horse and rider eventually walked up to the gates. Scott shouted at the guards.

"Hello the camp!"

"What! Who shouts so at this time of night? Be off wae yae!"

"Open that fucking gate or I will cut your head from your shoulders in a single blow my friend!" Scott's tiredness overrode his ability to deal with things reasonably.

"Hah, blow hard and be off wae yae!"

"My friend, I am Scott mac Fergus, sometimes called the Norse-slayer and my son David is lord of this Ayrshire. Now, open the gates and let me in so that I might feed myself and my horse."

"A likely tale, fuck off!"

"Please my friend, if there are any in the camp who would know Scott mac Fergus, have them come to the wall and talk to me. I can assure you it will save you much trouble in the morning."

There was a sound as if someone was scrabbling off into the darkness and Scott prayed that the man was doing what he asked. He waited perhaps half an hour and then heard a different voice challenging him.

"Who approaches Kilmarnock and claims to be Scott mac Fergus?"

Scott's spirits leapt.

"Lachlan, Lachlan is that you my friend? Saints preserve us!"

"Open the gate you fools, open it now!" He heard his friend shout.

Scott slid from Albannach's back and waited for the gate to open. There was barely enough room for a man to pass through before a figure darted out and charged towards him.

"Scott, Scott!" Lachlan struggled to find any other words.

Scott felt himself grabbed in a bear hug and lifted from his feet, Albannach rearing up at this treatment of him.

"Steady Lachlan, dear faithful Lachlan, steady Albannach." Scott said as he freed himself from his friend's grip and settled the horse.

"My Lord, what miracles is this? How come you here? Where have you been?"

The questions suddenly broke from Lachlan and Scott put his arm round his friend's shoulder and led him into the settlement, Albannach following unled behind them.

"Who else is here Lachlan? I promise I will answer all your questions but I would rather tell the tale once only if I can."

"We are all here my Lord, Gabrain, your family, Colmgil. All here."

"Good, now help me find a berth and a bag of the finest grain for this lord of horses and then we can go and surprise them all, shall we?"

Scott spent another forty minutes, disciplining himself, to give Albannach the treatment he deserved before searching out his family and friends. The big horse clearly appreciated the attention and when Scott left him he was rolling around on his back in a pile of hay.

"Okay Lachlan, where is everybody?"

Lachlan was still looking at Scott as if he was seeing a ghost, unable to quite believe his friend had returned out of the night. He physically shook himself.