Laverocklaw was an old house with ancient foundations. A crumbling tower with later extensions and a colourful flag that thrust above the surrounding trees, it perched part way up the lower slopes of Kinpurney Hill with views over Strathmore to the Angus Glens.
“Somebody had an eye for a situation,” Watters said. “This house would be hard to capture, even with a small army.”
“They could have made the road a bit easier.” Scuddamore was labouring with the steep path. “This poor beast,” he nodded to the horse, “is struggling. We might have to get out and walk soon.”
“Laverocklaw was built as for defence,” Watters said. “Having easy access would weaken it.”
As they came closer, Watters studied the flag which hung limply from a pole on the central power. He did not recognise the device, a r
