The Master of Ballantrae
A feud between two brothers that crossed the world and ended in one grave
Page 1
In the year 1745, Scotland was torn by rebellion. At the castle of Durrisdeer, the old Lord Durie gathered his two sons, James, the Master of Ballantrae, and the younger, Henry. To save the family estate, one son must join Prince Charlie's rebellion, and the other must stay loyal to King George. If the rebellion failed, the loyal son would keep their lands; if it won, the rebel would. The old lord looked at his sons. James was brilliant but wild; Henry was quiet and good. Their cousin Alison, who was promised to James, watched them both. The family steward, Mackellar, stood by the wall, listening. James, who loved adventure, smiled. "It is a game of chance," he said. "Let the toss of a coin decide our fates." Henry, who hated the idea, could not refuse. "So be it," he said heavily. "Let my father or Mackellar toss for us." The old lord produced a guinea from his purse and spun it high in the air.
Page 2
Years passed. The rebellion failed, and James, the Master of Ballantrae, was reported dead. Henry inherited the title and married Alison, who had once been James's promised bride. They lived quietly at Durrisdeer, though their happiness was shadowed by the past. One evening, as Henry and Alison walked in the garden with their steward, Mackellar, a stranger appeared. It was James, returned from the dead. He was thin and ragged, but his old, mocking smile was unchanged. He bowed elegantly. "My dear brother," he said. "And my dear Alison. You did not wait for me, I see." Alison grew pale, but Henry stood his ground, his face like stone. "You are welcome, James," Henry said, his voice cold. "This is your home." But as James stepped forward to greet Alison, she fainted into her husband's arms. The Master only laughed, a sound that held no warmth at all. Mackellar saw in that moment that the brothers' war was not over; it had only just begun.
Page 3
The Master stayed at Durrisdeer, tormenting his brother with insults and schemes, turning the household against him. He reminded Henry daily that he had stolen both his title and his love. The hatred between them grew until it could no longer be contained. One winter's night, after a final, terrible argument, they walked out to a secluded grove by the sea, accompanied only by Mackellar. The ground was frozen, and the air was deathly cold. "There is not room for both of us in this world," the Master said, drawing his sword. "Let us settle this at last." Henry, goaded beyond endurance, drew his own. "I have prayed for this!" he cried. They fought in the moonlight, a desperate, silent battle. Mackellar watched in horror as the blades flashed. Then, with a gasp, Henry's sword struck home. The Master cried out and fell, lying terribly still upon the frozen ground. Believing he had killed his brother, Henry dropped his sword and stared down at the body, his face a mask of agony.
Page 4
The Master was not dead. Smugglers carried him away, and for years, nothing was heard. But then, letters began to arrive for Mackellar from the Master's companion, an Irish rogue named Colonel Burke. Seated in his small, quiet study at Durrisdeer, Mackellar would read of the Master's astonishing adventures. He had become a pirate on the high seas, fighting battles and capturing treasure. He had wandered through the colonies of America and journeyed to the far lands of India. Each letter was a tale of daring, cruelty, and survival. "He is a great man, your Master," Burke wrote, "though the devil himself must be in him." Mackellar read of how the Master had won and lost fortunes, betrayed friends, and escaped death a dozen times. He carefully filed every letter, chronicling the life of the man who haunted the house of Durrisdeer. "What can we do?" Lady Durrisdeer would ask. "We can do nothing," Mackellar would reply grimly. "We can only wait for his next return."
Page 5
And then, one day, the Master returned again. He did not come as a beggar this time, but as a rich man, a nabob from the East. He disembarked at a busy port near Edinburgh, dressed in fine silks and accompanied by a silent, turbaned Indian companion named Secundra Dass. His fortune, he claimed, was immense. He took expensive rooms and began to spend money lavishly, his story amazing all of society. He sent word to Durrisdeer, not with threats, but with gifts. But Mackellar knew his purpose. "He has come to ruin us," he told Henry. "He will spend and spend, and you will have to pay, for the sake of the family's honor." Henry, now worn down by years of guilt and fear, agreed. "What must I do?" he asked wearily. "You must give him what he asks," Mackellar advised, "and we must watch him." The Master's return cast a darker shadow than ever before, a cold poison that seeped back into the life of the family.
Page 6
Mackellar's prediction came true. The Master lived in Edinburgh like a prince, running up enormous debts which, by custom, the head of the family—Henry—was obliged to pay. In a lawyer's sober, wood-panelled office, the full extent of the ruin was laid bare. Piece by piece, the Durrisdeer estate was being sold off to fund the Master's extravagance. Henry, his face pale and tight, sat opposite his smiling brother. "You have broken me," Henry said, his voice barely a whisper. "The lands are gone. There is nothing left." The Master simply shrugged. "Then we must go and fetch my treasure," he announced. He spoke of a great fortune in silver and gold, buried in the wilderness of America. It was their only hope. Desperate, Henry agreed. "We will go," he said. "You, me, and Mackellar. We will settle this account between us in the New World." Mackellar saw the trap. The Master did not want the treasure; he wanted his brother, alone and ruined, in a wild land far from home.
Page 7
The journey into the American wilderness was worse than the voyage. They travelled for weeks through a vast, silent forest of blazing autumn colours, led by rough fur-trappers. The Master, weakened by the cold, had fallen gravely ill and was carried on a litter. His illness did not soften him; from his sickbed he continued to taunt Henry. "Does the cold trouble you, brother?" he would ask with a weak smile. Henry, in turn, watched him with a burning, obsessive hatred. "He is a tiger," one of the trappers whispered to Mackellar. "He will not die until his enemy is dead first." The air was thick with suspicion. The trappers grew fearful, believing the Master's treasure was cursed. Secundra Dass never left his master's side, watching everyone with dark, unreadable eyes. "How much farther must we go?" Mackellar asked a guide, who only grunted and pointed west. They were a small, unhappy party, lost in an immense landscape, carrying their feud to its final end.
Page 8
Deep in the frozen wilderness, the Master's illness worsened. One morning, in a small, snowy clearing, he seemed to die. Henry stared at the still body, his face blank. But Secundra Dass showed no grief. He calmly announced that he would bury his master in the Indian fashion. "He is not dead," Secundra insisted to the astonished group. "He is in a trance. I have the art to bring him back." Under the worried eyes of Mackellar and the hostile glares of the guides, Secundra had them dig a shallow grave. He wrapped the Master's body, placed it inside, and covered it with frozen earth, leaving a small breathing tube. He then built a fire over the spot. "We must wait," he said, settling down by the fire. "In time, he will return." Henry laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. "He is dead!" he shouted. "I am free of him at last!" But his eyes never left the strange grave, his relief warring with a lifetime of fear.
Page 9
For a day and a night, they waited by the fire. Secundra remained patient, but Henry's mind began to break. The thought that his brother might still be alive was more than he could bear. "I will not be cheated!" he screamed, grabbing a spade. "We will dig him up! I must see him dead!" Secundra threw himself in the way. "You will ruin all!" he cried. "It is too soon!" But Henry, possessed by a mad strength, threw him aside. By the frantic light of lanterns, they clawed at the frozen earth. They uncovered the body. Secundra knelt and tried his arts, breathing into the Master's mouth. For a terrible moment, it seemed an eyelid flickered. Henry gave a cry that was not human and fell to the ground. Mackellar rushed to his side. His heart, worn out by a lifetime of hatred, had failed. He was dead.
Page 10
When the chaos ended, there were two bodies in the snow. Whether the Master's eyelid had truly flickered, or if he too had died in the frozen ground, no one could say for certain. Their terrible duel, which began in a Scottish castle, was finished here. The guides buried them side by side. There was no stone, only two mounds of earth in the great, empty landscape. Mackellar, the faithful steward, stood alone and looked upon them. "All is done," he whispered to the wind. "An entire house is gone, and I am left the last." He had served the family his entire life, and now it was destroyed. He was the only one left to tell their tragic story. He turned his back on the graves and began the long journey home to a masterless house in Scotland, carrying the heavy weight of all he had seen.
About this story
- Audience: general readers
Read Wonder Novels on your phone
Wonder Novels is available on Android. Get Wonder Novels on Google Play.