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Abruptly Atalanta felt a draft of air, as if someone had approached from behind them in the darkness.  She turned quickly and collided with Buidhe and Johnnie.  Buidhe touched her face apologetically before he disappeared stealthily into another darkened area of the hallway.  She noticed, before his form melted into the blackness, that he was carrying his sword.  Another draft of air brought with it Archibald and Donald, who were there for a moment and away again in another.

The intruders are outnumbered now, she thought smugly to herself, and they are no match for these men. 

Then there were no more drafts of air.  All focus was on the fire dance from the open door, and what went on within.

"Who let ye in our gates?" She head Alexander demand.

"Ah...Cameron," she head a man say in a voice that teetered on the precipice of sanity and insanity, "doesn't matter now, does it?  We followed you here, knew it was you by your code of dress - the priestly robe and the cross around your neck.  The quintessential Roman Catholic Priest, eh men?"  The speaker's steal creaked as he turned to direct his question toward his followers.  

"Jesuit Priest" Alexander corrected in a tightened tone.

"Nevertheless, Cameron, you cannot hide.  You and your Caledonian ancestors are a dying breed.  And do you know why, Cameron?"  The man taunted.

Alexander's jaws clenched.

"Because we make it our intent to kill bloody savages like you at every opportunity.  Men of your breed should either die or surrender, and since you've shown us before that you refuse to renounce that heinous religion and take off that robe I suppose there is only one thing left to do."  Clanging of steal sounded sharply as swords were drawn, and the man holding the bayonet lifted his weapon to his shoulder, aiming it at Alexander, waiting for his cue from the leader.  Then Alexander spoke.

"Ye think by killing me ye'll 'ave obliterated the Caledonian breed?  Look around ye, sir.  Welcome to the highlands.  Ye are surrounded by thousands like me, thousands of bluidy savages as ye call us.  Perhaps i'd think one or twice 'afore I made threats in a land like such.  Perhaps i'd think twice or thrice about attempting to kill the lion in his den.  We are pride animals, men.  Ye are fools tae thing ye could kill me and then walk out of this place alive.  Unlike ye treasonous bahstards, I am loyal to my king and country, and this is a bond shared by all like me.  We never forget a wrong, and we always avenge."

The leader laughed mockingly at Alexander's words.  "Treasonous bastards, eh?  YOU call US treasonous bastards?  I do believe you are the treasonous one, given that King William is sitting on the throne of Britain and James is in exile.  You support a king who is a king no longer."

"King James is the rightful king, and we will avenge him" Alexander protested.

The leader laughed again, this time advancing toward him.  This action was an ingnorant one, Atalanta thought, and one that would buy Alexander time.  Because the leader had approached him, the man with the bayonet could no longer be certain of his shot.  

Silently much obliged at the leader's folly, Alexander began to lower his dirk from his sleeve, slowly, with the hand that feigned nonchalance behind his back.