Categories > Original > Historical > Caley0 Reviews
Caley, a girl in the scottish revolution get is trouble with English guards.
"Aye, momma!" she called back. She quickly pulled of her nightdress and pulled on a linen shift and red dress, wrapping a plaid cloak around her as she leaped out the window. Her mother shouted at her as she danced around the meadow to the barn.
"Caley! Put your hair up!" Caley quickly twisted her red hair into a very messy braid, and skipped off toward the barn.
Arriving at the barn, Caley pushed open the heavy wooden door and walked in. The barn smelled of fresh hay, cows, not so fresh hay, and other things. Breckin, her family's red-spotted cow, mooed as Caley walked over.
"Hello, Breckin!" said Caley, as she sat down on a pine stool, decorated with sheep, cows, and other livestock. Caley began to milk the cow, talking animatedly.
"Poppa's off to the field agin, Breckin, and Momma's leaving for Auntie's so I get to take Poppa's lunch for him to eat!" Breckin stood patiently, waiting for Caley to finish. Finally, she did and moved to the door.
"'Bye, Breckin! Don't have fun without me!" Then she pushed open the door, and ran back indoors. Her mother handed the wicker lunch basket to her.
"Be careful, Caley," her mother warned. "Ye know how those British lads are. They'd like a bonnie wee one like ye." Caley nodded.
"Don't fret yeself, mammie," she consoled. "Ah'll be fine." Then she skipped happily over the meadow to the fields where her father worked.
Caley walked over the green Scottish hills, singing cheerfully. As she got closer to a British outpost, she became quieter, shooting dark, fierce looks at the red dressed soldiers there. As she neared the outpost, an older man of about thirty, walked over.
"Aren't you the pretty thing now, eh?" he grinned. Caley lifted her head high in disgust, and walked past. The soldier grasped her arm.
"All alone, hmm?" Caley's heart skipped a beat, and she tried to yank her arm away from the soldier's grasp.
"'Praps ye'll need some protection here, a pretty wench like you. I think I could do that right well." Suddenly Caley's body filled from top to bottom with fierce indignation and anger.
Who does he think he is, actin' all high n' mighty in our country?!? I'll learn him a thing or two!" Then, swinging her free arm high, Caley brought her father's lunch basket down with a crash on the soldier's head. The soldier shrieked and let go of her arm, and as soon as he did, she dashed off across the hills, the laughter of the other soldiers chasing her away.
She arrived at her father's field flushed and out of breath. Her father looked up as she approached.
"Lunch! Ah be starved-why, Caley! What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Caley, face red.
"It be those blasted English agin, that's what it be!" snarled her uncle, Angus. He yanked his thick red beard.
"It be time for us Highlander's to show those English who rules Scotland!"
"Ock, that be dangerous thinkin', Angus," said a thick, burly, dark haired man next to him.
"Ah don't care!" boomed Angus. "Ah be sick n' tired of all these durned English prancin' aroun' in those bloody jackets, thinkin' their all King s of tha' world!" The Scottish men began to mutter to each other.
"We been givin' to much power to them bloody Englishmen."
"We need to show those Fancypants their place, for good!"
"We'll give those bastards blood n' ashes, so we will!"
"Is something the matter over here?" The Scottish men spun around. Standing behind them was an army of English soldiers.
"I say, is something the matter?" The Scottish Highlanders growled fiercly, but Torrin, Caley's father, stepped forward before anything happened.
"Nay, Sirs, nothin' at all. We were just a bit mad 'cause one o' yer soldiers tried to take advantage o' me daughter 'ere." Torrin gestured to Caley.
"Well she certainly looks like a pretty one, a good prize for any good British soldier." With that comment, Torrin lost his temper.
"She ain't no prize for no one! Least' of ways yer dirty, blasted red lads with the blood of good Scottish lads and lasses on their filthy fingers!" The British Captain's face turned white, then purple, then red, as the thin Scottish man launched off into his tirade. He said a good many more things, and not all of them appropriate for delicate ears, so I removed that part. The British Captain's eyes narrowed to little black slits.
"I see there is a revolution in danger of erupting here!" he snarled. Torrin looked up at him.
"'oo sayed naught aboot ah revolution?"
"It's quite obvious. I put you all under arrest under the charge of treason. You are all going to go on trial in Britain where you will quickly be found guilty and put to death."
"Ain't we got noo say in ut?" boomed Angus stepping shoulder to nose with the Captain. The Captain looked a little uncomfortable with the huge Scottish man glaring down at him.
"Since when do traitors get a say in trial? No." Angus stuck out his chin, his fierce red beard sticking out like wire.
"Weel then! We best get tha most out of the worst!" The Scottish man charged the soldiers, throwing them easily up in the air with his thick arms. The other men attacked the soldiers also, taking them by surprise and dropping many before they had a chance to react. During the confusion, Torrin grasped Caley's arm.
"You git on home, Caley! Git yer momma and Finn and tell 'em to git outa here! Go find bonnie Prince Charlie, and join his band, where ye'll be safe."
"No buts! Go! NOW!" Torrin shoved her, then joined the frenzy, buying her time. The Scottish Highlander's attack was brave, but hopeless. They were outnumbered ten to one, and were quickly defeated, but it was not in vain, because, in the midst of it all, Caley had escaped.