The Highwayman's Curse Page 17

  This was a difficult thought, I confess. I regretted not one bit that I had left home, but now that I faced the world on my own again, I admit to a small shiver of fear and a sudden wish for the comfort and safety of my home-life again. I wished I did not have to be alone. But there was little point in dwelling on this. I would be alone and I must become accustomed to it.

  But I suppose that it was these doubts, these fears, that made me agree to what we did later that evening. Although I knew I would be on my own again soon, I wished to delay that.

  When I had finished in the stable, I went to the cottage I shared with Bess and the old woman. No one was there. The fire hissed softly. There was the familiar smell of bodies and boiled kale and damp stone and the smoke-soaked heather in the thatch. The shutters were closed, and these I now swung open, letting the breeze wash through the dwelling. I gathered together my few possessions, items of clothing, my knife, my sword, pistols and their accoutrements, my flint, tallow candles, and the very few coins I had left. I looked at them: they would not last me long if I had to pay for lodging as well as food.

  And I suppose it was that thought, too – the need for money – that made me agree to what we planned that evening.

  As I gathered everything up in my saddlebags, I was startled by the sudden sound of voices and the door swung open. I looked up. It was Bess and Calum. They stopped talking when they saw me.

  We greeted each other, awkwardly. Bess saw what I was doing. She looked at me.

  “Yes,” I said, in answer to her unspoken question. “I am leaving, in the morning. This is no place for me.”

  “I wish you would stay,” said Bess, after a pause in which I hope she felt some regret, some sadness. I believe she meant her words, but did she mean them with great force? I could not tell. Bess had been happy before I met her and I think she would not mourn my departure now. And Calum stood close to her. It seemed that there was more than a friendship between them.

  If I were honest, if I looked deep within myself, I could hardly bear to think of Bess staying here, becoming mired in the choiceless lives of this family. It seemed to be as wrong as keeping an eagle in a cage. But she had changed in some way over the last days and perhaps now she had lost her desire for freedom. And if she had lost that, then I could do nothing. Because Bess was freedom.

  Perhaps that was the final reason why I agreed to what we did that evening – that I wanted one more chance for Bess to change her mind and come with me.

  Bess looked at Calum now. “I shall tell him.” Calum nodded. What did they have to tell me? I said nothing, just waited, though my heart beat a little faster.

  “We are to ride out tonight,” she said, her eyes bright once more. “You and I. We are after a prize. Douglas Murdoch’s men ride with money this night. Mad Jamie has told us. They have been collecting payments from people in the west and they will be returning to Murdoch’s tower in a few hours…’

  “This is madness!” I retorted. “He is a dangerous man. He will come for revenge and then what will happen to you all?”

  “No! Don’t you see?” cried Bess, her face shining. “They will not know us. Murdoch’s men have never seen us – you or me – and know not that we are here. When they see our horses, they will not think of Jock’s people. There is no risk.” I said nothing. “He deserves it, Will. And think of the money. If you are leaving, you will need your share. We have little enough left.”

  “I do not like it. Not at all.”

  “Then I will do it alone!” Was she angry, or disappointed? I could not tell.

  Calum turned to her. “I will come with ye.”

  “No!” I said now. “It is not safe. You would be recognized,” I added when he scowled.

  “So you will come?” asked Bess of me.

  Where would be the harm in it? There were powerful reasons for doing it, and few against. Once more would I ride out with Bess. And then, then I would leave. “I will come. But I do not like it, nevertheless,” I said.

  Only a few days ago, I would have jumped at such an idea with enthusiasm, but now this constant battling on the wrong side of the law sickened me. Had I not already condemned my father for corruption? So, how much better was I if I broke the law so easily?

  But I did agree, for money, for companionship, for Bess, and for myself.

  And, for adventure. Perhaps I went with my heart and not my head. I know not which is the more important.

  For the next hour or more, we prepared for our escapade. Calum would come with us a part of the way, to show us a good place to wait secretly for the men to pass, and then he would wait near by for us to carry out the robbery. Bess was fired with excitement.

  Seeing her spirit inflamed once more, seeing her eyes shining again, I confess to wishing more than ever that she could come away with me. After tonight, might she choose to? Perhaps she would remember our adventures and the excitement of the open road, and sitting by her fire after dark, telling our stories to each other and planning to fight for what felt right. But when I saw the way Calum hung on her words, and she on his, it seemed to me that the hope was slim indeed.

  Bess and I checked our pistols, packing powder into powder horns, counting our lead shot, placing them within easy reach in our belts. Calum had a knife, which he now took pleasure in sharpening against a whetstone. I hoped that he would not need it, but it was better that he should have a weapon than not. My saddlebag was already filled with all my possessions, but Bess, dressed in her male attire once more, and with the locket hidden, also packed what she might need for some hours of waiting, including her flint, tallow candles, and even a small lantern, wrapped in a cloth, in case we should need them.

  When we were ready, we walked to the other cottage. Jeannie got to her feet stiffly. She had been tending to Jock, who lay curled on his side on the box-bed. I could not see if he was sleeping but he did not stir. Jeannie’s face was grey, her forehead furrowed, her hair unkempt. There was little expression to be read in her eyes. Tam sat near her, throwing small stones into a circle he had marked in the dirt on the stone floor. A dog lay on its side, one eye open, watching the stones land.

  Mouldy was stretching rabbit skins on a rack near the fire. Billy sat sharpening sticks to a point – I know not what for. Perhaps for setting a trap. Thomas stared up into the beams under the roof, as though he would find the answer to all his problems there. He glanced at us when we came in. Calum went to sit near him, and Thomas looked at him and I think smiled a little. Calum poured some ale for his father and his father drank it.

  Jeannie poured us some bowls of broth and set bread beside them. We ate in a strained silence. I wished to ask what they thought about Iona now, after some time to think on it, perhaps to find some forgiveness. But I could not find the words, and I feared the answer.

  How could they appear to have forgotten her so easily? Even Calum, it seemed. How could they think about us going after money when Iona had vanished and they might never see her again?

  The silence was broken by Bess, asking Jeannie a question. “How does Jock fare?”

  Jeannie shook her head. “I fear mightily for him. He canna walk – one side of his body doesna move right. I have heard of such a thing but…”

  At this moment, the door opened and in came Red, with Old Maggie. He led her to the fireside, and set her in the high-backed chair, with surprising gentleness. Bess went and sat with her. I looked away.

  Red turned to me, an unusual note of respect in his voice. “So, ye will ride after Douglas Murdoch tonight?” When I nodded, he continued. “We should mebbe try such a thing on the excisemen, one day! ’Tis a good trade, this highway robbery, taking from people what’s no’ theirs by right.”

  “We’ll use the money to buy more goods when we run a cargo next,” said Thomas.

  Was this all they could think of? Even Thomas, Iona’s own father? Sorrow was grooved in his face, but still he acted as though Iona no longer existed. Was their hatred of the other religion so deep tha
t an only daughter could be lost with so little grief? And no attempt yet to find her and fetch her back?

  As we finished our plain meal, wiping up the last thin dregs of salty soup, Old Maggie began to sing some of the words of Bess’s ballad. And as Bess joined in, and as I watched her face harden and her eyes light up while she sang those words, I wondered if there was anything that would stop her holding her own poisonous hatred inside her, anything that would soften her heart and allow the bitterness to go.

  I understood then that there was not. Bess would grow old and poisoned and damaged like Old Maggie. And I would not stay to see that.

  I was sure then that tomorrow, after one more adventure, I would leave without her.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  With darkness almost fallen, we set out, riding three abreast, with the voices of the men and Jeannie ringing in our ears as they wished us good fortune.

  “And if ye meet wi’ Douglas Murdoch himself, use your pistols on him and run him through wi’ a sword for good measure!” cried Red, with glee.

  Thomas had said something to Calum, perhaps to tell him to take care, and his son had nodded. Calum had then swung himself into his saddle with vigour. I suppose he was glad to have something with which to take his thoughts away from his sister, and to prove himself worthy to his father.

  The moon was full that night, a perfect circle hanging low in a near-cloudless sky. Silver light drenched the land around us and the inky waters of the sea to our left. To our right, black hills leaned against the sky.

  I kicked my horse forward and Calum had to urge his pony hard to keep up with us.

  As we cantered into the night, relief at leaving that place grew into excitement. I looked across at Bess as we rode and she returned my look with a full smile. At that moment, perhaps foolishly, I believed I might persuade her to come with me after this night’s work was done. Adventure ran in her blood and now it made my heart beat faster too.

  Once we reached the road, we travelled westwards, making for a particular spot which Calum had said would suit our needs. Wordlessly, we cantered along the road. This, I knew now, was the road newly built by the soldiers, taking travellers from the east all the way to the far west coast. It amused me to know that it was the hated redcoats who had made our travel easier.

  The chill wind could not pierce my good coat, and the clean kerchief round my throat gave me extra warmth. I was aware of every breath, every sense, every feeling. As we passed a small copse, the bitter scent of fox came to me and an eerie warning bark followed it.

  We continued west. We knew not when Douglas Murdoch’s men would pass, but we knew from Mad Jamie that it would be well after dark. Red had snarled something about the man being suited to the devil’s hours.

  Could we trust Mad Jamie? I had asked this earlier and had been told that he would not lie to us – his grandfather had been Old Maggie’s cousin. “He’s family,” Thomas had said. And his information came from one of Douglas Murdoch’s men, a friend of Jamie’s who, like many of them, had little love for his master.

  Family. For a moment I had almost smiled.

  Now, I hoped that we could indeed trust Mad Jamie.

  We rode on, deep in our own thoughts, straining our eyes and ears in case we might see or hear something to fear. And it was as I tried to discern anything over the sound of our own horses’ hoofs on the rocky road that I did indeed hear something else. At first, I thought it might be the echoes of our hoofbeats, but very soon I realized that it was not. I pulled Blackfoot to a halt, urging the others to do the same. They too had heard it.

  More hoofbeats. Coming from ahead of us. Hurriedly, we moved off the road and into the shelter of some trees. I leapt from my saddle, flinging the reins to Bess, and, taking the pistols from my belt and half cocking them, moved carefully towards the road. Keeping myself hidden in the shadow of a tree, I peered into the night.

  It was a single rider. On a small pony. He came closer. I strained my eyes. Was it someone we need fear? Who would be riding at such speed, alone, after dark?

  The rider’s legs and elbows flapped as he kicked his pony wildly. The pony’s feet flew and soon I could hear the snorting of its breath.

  “It’s Mad Jamie!” cried Calum, as the pony flashed past. He was right. And if it was Mad Jamie, he could have information for us.

  What made him ride now with such frantic haste?

  “Jamie!” called Calum, and we left the trees. I leapt onto Blackfoot and, still fumbling my feet into the stirrups, followed the others in pursuit of Mad Jamie. But he was afraid and kicked his pony to ever greater speed, thinking perhaps that we were villains who meant him harm.

  If his pony had not stumbled, I know not how long it would have taken us to catch him. But stumble it did, sending Jamie over its shoulder. He clung briefly to the animal’s mane and neck but was unable to stop himself slithering to the ground. His pony, meanwhile, hung its foreleg loosely – it was lame.

  When Jamie saw that it was only us, he gibbered with relief and almost cried as he tried to tell us what he knew. He had indeed been riding to meet us, with terrible news. His overlarge mouth spluttered, with too much spittle and too little control over his tongue. It took some moments more before we could understand exactly what he was trying to tell us. But, in the end, it was all too clear.

  Douglas Murdoch had captured Iona and Robert as they tried to take a boat across the Solway. His son had tried to fight with him and in his fury Murdoch had carted him back home and locked him in the tower, thinking that some days without food would bring him to his senses. And as for Iona? Well, as for Iona, she had been taken away to be punished. And Mad Jamie feared for her safety – Murdoch’s eyes had gleamed with more than anger, said his informer.

  “Where?” demanded Calum now, fearful for his sister, no matter what she had done. “Where have they taken her?”

  Mad Jamie shook his head, his eyes staring, snot hanging from his nose. His hands flapped as though he would shake away his terror.

  Calum turned to Bess. “We must find her! We can no’ leave her!” His love for his sister was clear. He seemed to have forgotten all his anger at her desertion of their religion. This I was glad of. But what would that matter, if Douglas Murdoch had taken her away to do something terrible to her?

  How would we ever find her? She could be anywhere.

  And then the truth hit me, a kick in the stomach.

  I knew where Iona was. I knew it with the clarity of sharpened steel. I knew it with the horror of gunshot. I have had fear like that in a nightmare; but this was not a nightmare. This was real.

  I knew where Iona was and why. And it was not simply a guess. There was a reason why I knew, and why only I could have known.

  Trying to keep my voice level, I turned to Calum now, and to Mad Jamie. For either of them might be able to answer my question. “Where is the tide now?” Neither of them answered, confused by what I asked. “The tide!” I repeated. “Is it rising or falling?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Calum answered. “’Tis rising.”

  “Then go back to the farm. And hurry! Tell them what has happened and make them open the trapdoor! I’ll meet you in the tunnel.”

  Calum looked at me, his understanding slowly dawning. “God damn them to Hell! No! Ye canna be right!”

  “I am right. I know – more than you think. There’s no time to lose. Bess, follow me. Hurry!”

  “I’ll come wi’ ye!” Calum was already gathering his reins, turning his pony.

  “No! Jamie’s pony is lame and you would not wish Bess to go back alone – you must go. Hurry!”

  “She is my sister – I should go to her.”

  “You shall – along the tunnel. Meet us, and show us the way. Tell your family what has happened and that they must have blankets ready.”

  “What? Tell me what’s happening!” Bess demanded.

  Calum answered her, seeing the sense in my arguments. “Go wi’ him, Bess. Will knows where Iona is!
And for God’s sake, hurry!” And with that, Calum kicked his pony and galloped back along the road with Mad Jamie following on foot, leading his lame pony.

  A thought came to me of a sudden. “Jamie!” He stopped and turned, his face eerie in the moonlight. “When you reach the farm, send someone to the cliff path, to fetch our horses. Do you know where I mean?” He nodded and set off again. I could only pray he would remember.

  Without further questions, for which I was grateful, Bess followed me as I set off. At first, we travelled in the same direction as Calum had, but very soon we took the turning off the road and onto the track towards the cliff.

  And as I rode, desperately trying to recall what the track was like, not certain if I would know when to swing to the right and go down the cliff path, I could not help thinking of that tunnel with the fountains of water smashing against the rock face, that narrow tunnel, that tiny beach, the incoming tide. And that iron ring set into the side of the cliff. I could not help thinking of the way Old Maggie’s mother had died, slowly drowned by the rising water.

  But most of all I could not help thinking of the words I had read, roughly written on that piece of paper, in the box with the snake; words that I had burnt, intending that no one should ever read them, that no one should ever feel the chill that they sent down my back; that no one should ever know that Douglas Murdoch was truly evil. I had kept them to myself in order to preserve a kind of peace, or at least to stop more bloodshed.

  But it had all been to no avail. Now surely there would be certain death: Iona’s. And the words were still etched in my memory.

  “Curst be the lass, like the wumman drest in white. In such a way shall death tak her by drooning. An’ then will there be nae mair. So be oor curse.”

  It must not be!