His battle dress, composed of chain mail, was stained crimson along the left quadrant of his stomach. His face was pale and unshaven, his blue-gray eyes glassy with fever.
The young man had been left on a grassy knoll.
The tall ship had been in port since dawn, its crew exchanging silver pieces for wool and cod.Ĭalder’s daughter, Helen, joined him on the lookout. Looking to the south, he could just make out the single-sheeted Spanish galley.
William Calder, second Thane of Cawdor, stood on an outcropping of rock just beyond the point where the boiling North Sea met the mouth of the River Ness. The deep blue waters of the Moray Firth crashed violently against the jagged shoreline below.
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