Dougal greeted my appearance with a nod. He crossed himself, bent his head, and scooped up a double handful of water. The water had an odd dark color, and a worse smell—likely a sulfur spring, I thought. The day was hot and I was thirsty, though, so I followed Dougal's example. The water was faintly bitter, but cold, and not unpalatable. I drank some, then splashed my face. The road had been dusty.
I looked up, face dripping, to find him watching me with a very odd expression. Something between curiosity and calculation, I thought.
"Bit of a climb for a drink, isn't it?" I asked lightly. There were water bottles on the horses. And I doubted that Dougal meant to petition the patron of the spring for our safe journey back to the inn. He struck me as a believer in more worldly methods.
"How well d'ye know the Captain?" he asked abruptly.
"Less well than you," I snapped back. "I've met him once before today, and that by accident. We didn't get on."
Surprisingly, the stern face lightened a bit.
"Well," he admitted, "I canna say as I care for the man much myself." He drummed his fingers on the well coping, considering something. "He's well-thought of by some, though," he said, eyeing me. "A brave soldier and a bonny fighter, by what I hear."
I raised my eyebrows. "Not being an English general, I am not impressed." He laughed, showing startlingly white teeth. The sound disturbed three rooks in the tree overhead, who flapped off, full of hoarse complaint.
"Are ye a spy for the English or the French?" he asked, with another bewildering change of subject. At least he was being direct, for a change.
"Certainly not," I said crossly. "I'm plain Claire Beauchamp, and nothing more." I soaked my handkerchief in the water and used it to wipe my neck. Small refreshing trickles ran down my back under the grey serge of my traveling gown. I pressed the wet cloth to my bosom and squeezed, producing a similar effect.
Dougal was silent for several minutes, watching me intently as I conducted my haphazard ablutions.
"You've seen Jamie's back," he said suddenly.
"I could hardly help doing so," I said a little coldly. I had given up wondering what he was up to with these disconnected questions. Presumably he would tell me when he was ready.
"You mean did I know Randall did it, then? Or did you know that yourself?"
"Aye, I kent it well enough," he answered, calmly appraising me, "but I wasna aware that you did."
I shrugged, implying that what I knew and what I didn't were hardly his concern.
"I was there, ye ken," he said, casually.
"Where?"
"At Fort William. I had a bit of business there, with the garrison. The clerk there knew Jamie was some kin to me, and sent me word when they arrested him. So I went along to see could aught be done for him."
"Apparently you weren't very successful," I said, with an edge.
Dougal shrugged. "Unfortunately not. Had it been the regular sergeant-major in charge, I might ha' saved Jamie at least the second go-round, but as it was, Randall was new in command. He didna know me, and was indisposed to listen much to what I said. I thought at the time, it was only he meant to make an example of Jamie, to show everyone at the start that there'd be no softness from him." He tapped the short sword he wore at his belt. "It's a sound enough principle, when you're in command of men. Earn their respect before ye do aught else. And if you canna do that, earn their fear."
I remembered the expression on the face of Randall's corporal, and thought I knew which route the captain had taken.
Dougal's deep-set eyes were on my face, interested.
"You knew it was Randall. Did Jamie tell ye about it?"
"A bit," I said cautiously.
"He must think well of ye," he said musingly. "He doesna generally speak of it to anyone."
"I can't imagine why not," I said, provoked. I still held my breath each time we came to a new tavern or inn, until it was clear that the company had settled for an evening of drinking and gossip by the fire. Dougal smiled sardonically, clearly knowing what was in my mind.
"Well, it wasna necessary to tell me, was it? Since I kent it already." He swished a hand idly through the strange dark water, stirring up brimstone fumes.
"I'd not know how it goes in Oxfordshire," he said, with a sarcastic emphasis that made me squirm slightly, "but hereabouts, ladies are generally not exposed to such sights as floggings. Have ye ever seen one?"
"No, nor do I much want to," I responded sharply. "I can imagine what it would take to make marks like the ones on Jamie's back, though."