Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times

by Robert William MacKenna

  *CHAPTER XLII*

  *IN THE TOLBOOTH OF DUMFRIES*

  That night, as the town clock spoke the hour of nine with its silvertongue, any casual wayfarer passing the Tolbooth might have seen an old,bowed woman knocking timorously at its oaken door. Under the shawl whichcovered her head and enveloped her to the feet she held a letter, sealedwith a large seal. After she had knocked for a second time, the doorwas partially opened and a hurried conversation took place between herand the jailer. She handed him the letter and, in order the better toread it, he admitted her within the door. Its contents satisfied him,for, at once, he led the way to a cell and taking the great key from achain that hung at his belt, he unlocked the door and threw it open.

  "Mary Paterson," he called, "are ye sleeping? Here's yer auntie come tosee ye wi' the special warrant o' the Shirra' himsel'. I never kent thelike o' this afore, but I ha'e his warrant for it sealed wi' his ainseal."

  There was no response. So, seizing the old woman rudely by theshoulder, the jailer thrust her forward and closed the door behind her.As the key grated in the lock he growled through an iron grille set inthe solid wood: "Ye ha'e half an' 'oor thegither: no ae minute langer."

  I listened anxiously until I heard his footsteps die gradually away:then with arms outstretched I stepped forward into the darkness.

  "Mary, Mary," I cried, in a loud whisper, and out of the darkness avoice spoke:

  "What trick is this? Wha are ye? I ha'e nae aunt that would visit me.In a' the world I am alane."

  The sadness of that dear voice, once sweet with witchery, unmanned me,but I knew that every minute was precious and that there was need tomake haste. "Mary," I said, "it is Walter, your own beloved."

  There was a pause, then a sob, and the sweet voice said brokenly: "Itcanna be. My loved ane is deid lang syne. Are ye someane come here forhis ain ill ends?"

  "Mary," I said, "where are you? Come to me! come and lay your hand onmy face and you will know that it is I indeed."

  There was a movement in the cell, and in the darkness a little handtouched me timidly. I seized it in both my own, and smothered it withkisses. Then I drew a shrinking figure towards me and took Mary, my ownloved one, in my arms. She nestled to me sobbing gently, for she knewthat I was in very deed her lover come again.

  "Beloved!" I whispered. "Little flower of the heather." Oh the raptureof that long embrace for which my heart had hungered through so manyweary months! "Dear heart," I whispered, with my lips set close to herlittle ear, "I have come to save you. Be brave, do what I bid you andall will be well."

  "To save me?" she said. "Oh, it's no' possible."

  "Yes," I answered, "all things are possible to love."

  Quickly, in whispers, for the minutes were rapidly fleeing, I explainedmy plans to her. Wrapped in the great shawl with which I had disguisedmyself, she was to impersonate the old woman who had come to visit her,and, when the jailer returned, to quit the dungeon with him and make herway to freedom and to safety.

  "Once you are out of the Tolbooth," I said, "hurry to the Townhead Port.By the side of the Moat Hill you will find an old man waiting for you.He will be smoking a pipe. Trust him; and he will take you to a placeof safety."

  I wrapped the shawl about her. It covered her, from head to foot. Thenshe clung to me once more while I hurriedly whispered the little wordsof love with which my heart was full, and heard her sweet whispers inreturn. Suddenly she disengaged herself from my arms, and seizing me bythe hand, said:

  "My love, my love, it canna be. Why did I no' think o' it afore. I amescaping, and you are to be left behin'. No, I wunna, I canna dae it."

  "What a foolish little Mary you are!" I murmured, as I clasped her to meonce again. "Feel this," and I guided her fingers along the rough edgeof a file I had concealed about me. "Within an hour of your escape Ishall be with you. There is only one iron bar to file." I turned herhead and made her look at the little window set in the wall high up nearthe roof of the cell, through which the uncertain light of the moon senta faint beam. "I knew all about this cell before I came into it. Thefriend to whom I am sending you has been here himself. He rememberedthat there was but one bar to the window. He it was who told me how Ishould escape. So, sweetheart, be brave. On you all depends. If youlove me, do what I ask and we shall both soon be free."

  She gave her promise as the silence was broken by the sound of theapproaching footsteps of the jailer.

  "Be brave," I whispered, as I kissed her lips. She clung to me in abrief storm of sobbing, but let her arms fall as the key grated in thelock. The door was thrown open, and the light of a lamp trembledathwart the darkness.

  "Come on, auld wife," growled the jailer: "the time's up. Ha'e ye ta'enyer fareweel o' the lass? I jalouse you'll no' see her again till she'sswingin' at the end o' a tow."

  There was no answer but a burst of sobbing from Mary, who turned fromme. I sank back into the darkness of the cell, while she walked bowedas though with age and sorrow towards the open door. She passedthrough, the door clanged behind her and the key grated in the lock.With ears pressed tight against the door I listened eagerly to the soundof their retreating footsteps. Would she escape, or would some mishapreveal her to the jailer? My heart, that was in a tumult of suspense,bounded for joy when at last I heard the massive oak door close with ahollow clang on the doorposts. My loved one was free, and I--well, whatdid it matter? I had held her in my arms once again: I had kissed hersweet lips and with that memory to uphold me I could go bravely to mydeath. But hope beats high in the heart of youth. I ran my finger overthe stout file which I had brought with me. In an hour--or at mosttwo--I should be at liberty.

  I had learned from Hector that the jailer would make a round of theTolbooth at ten o'clock, now near at hand. On the last stroke of thehour on the town clock a beam of light came through the grille in thedoor and a voice said: "Is a' richt wi' ye?" I answered in a whisper.Whether all was right or not the jailer did not trouble to ascertain,for, with a grunt, the light was withdrawn from the grille and the soundof his footsteps faded away in the distance. I threw off the woman'sgarments that encumbered me.

  The moment had come for action. The window, with its solitary bar, wasset high above my head, and groping anxiously over the wall below forany means by which I might raise myself up to it, I found a few chinks,but none of them large enough for the purpose. Rapidly and noiselesslyI scooped some of the mortar from between several of the great stones,and in a few minutes had succeeded in clambering up to the window andlaying hold of the upright bar with my left hand. The wall was a thickone, and the outer sill of the window sloped down at a sharp angle fromthe bar. I recognised that once the bar was severed I should havelittle difficulty in squeezing myself through the window. Confidently Iset to work, beginning at the top of the bar and filing on the innerside. I soon discovered that the iron was weather-beaten and rusty, andas the dust of it fell upon my left hand, tightly clasped about the baseof the stanchion, I rejoiced to find that my task was proving easierthan I anticipated. But when the bar was filed nearly half through atthe top, the cramped position in which I was compelled to work began toweary me, and I dropped down upon the floor of the cell to rest. When Iclimbed up again, I passed the file to the outer side of the bar and setto work on it at the base. My hope was that when I had filed thestanchion half through, top and bottom, I might be able to break it.The tool bit into the iron, and I worked feverishly. Suddenly there wasa snap--the handle of the file was left in my hand--the blade slid downover the sloping sill ere I could catch it, and I heard it drop with atinkle in the street below.

  For a moment I hung there in despair. I was left with nothing but mynaked hands, and what could they do against a stout iron stanchion andthick stone walls. I threw my whole weight upon the bar and sought tobreak it through; but strive as I might it would neither bend nor break.A second time I tried, but still without avail. Its sharp edges tor
e myhands so that they were wet with blood, but, hardly conscious ofphysical pain, I continued to struggle with it. My efforts werefruitless, and from sheer exhaustion I was compelled to desist. I hungfor a moment on the edge of the sill, and then dropped down into thecell. My shaking legs refused to support me and I sank in a heap on theground, bathed in perspiration, with panting breath and parched tongue.As I lay there I remembered how I often watched a bird beating its wingsvainly against the bars of its cage, and a great pity for all wildthings made captive rose within me. Picking myself up I groped my wayround till I reached the door. I felt for the grille. Its bars werethin and rickety, but even if they were removed my arm alone wouldscarcely go through that tiny aperture. I began to examine the door,passing my hands carefully over it in the hope of finding the lock. Thelock was upon the other side! Escape in this direction was impossible,so I fumbled my way round until I stood beneath the window once more. Iclimbed up to make another attack upon the stanchion. Still it resistedme, and, at last, for very weariness I was compelled to desist and dropdown to the floor again. The town clock struck one. A few shorthours--I could count them up on the fingers of one hand--and I should bediscovered, and discovery meant death. Well, Mary, my Mary, was safe,and my sacrifice was a very little price to pay for that. I had heldher in my arms; I was content to die. As I sat in the dark, memoryafter memory of the things that had befallen me chased each otherthrough my brain. Some were memories of unspeakable happiness, otherswere memories touched by pain, but even those of pain were made fragrantby the knowledge that my loved one was free.

  In Hector's keeping she would be safe from harm. Hector--warm-hearted,beloved adventurer--I could trust her to him.

  Once again the silence was broken as the town clock pealed out the hourof two. As its last note was dying I heard a muffled thud above me. Ilooked up quickly, but could see nothing except the faint beam of lightwhich came through the window, blocked by that tantalising bar. Whathad the sound been? Was it some phantasm of my disordered brain? Mysenses were alert again, and I dragged myself once more up to thewindow. I peered out. Across the street I could see the roofs of thehouses, but of the street itself I could catch no glimpse.

  My ears had deceived me; there was nothing to be seen or heard. I hadtaken hold of the iron stanchion to steady myself, and the grip of myhand upon it awoke in me a fresh desire to put it to the test. Perhapsit needed only one more effort to break it! I would try. With legswide apart I planted both my feet flat against the wall, and, bracingthe muscles of my thighs until they were tight as bowstrings, I flungthe whole weight of my body upon my outstretched arms, and, with breathheld, pulled. Suddenly the beam of light that came through the windowwas broken by a moving shadow, as though a bird had flown across it, andalmost in the same instant something struck me sharply on the chin, thenfell between my extended limbs to the floor. In an instant I haddropped down into the cell and on hands and knees was groping for themissile. As I did so, something touched my face, and putting my handout I caught a piece of cord. This guided me at once to the object of mysearch, and seizing it I discovered, to my amazement, that it was abook. The cord was firmly tied about it so that I could not open it;but there was no need for that. Its size and the smoothness of itsleather cover told me that it was the copy of Horace which was Hector'sconstant companion. The darkness about me glistened with a thousandstars. Hope sprang on tip-toe in my heart again. Hector was justoutside, and I should yet escape.

  The cord ran up from the volume into the air towards the window, and,instinctively, I began to pull it in. From the weight of it I knew thatthere was something upon the other end. Foot by foot, yard by yard, asa seaman passes a cable through his hands, I hauled in the string untilI heard a little metallic click as the object attached to it struck thestanchion set in the window, and the string became taut. Seizing thecord in my teeth, I scrambled up the wall. There on the sloping sill,one edge touching the iron bar, lay my file. I gripped it and wouldhave fallen to work upon the stanchion at once, but I saw that I had notyet come to the end of the cord, which ran over the outer edge of thesill and disappeared from sight. So, unlooping the file from therunning knot in which it was held, I continued to draw in the cord. Asit came up I saw it thicken and knew that my faithful henchman in thestreet below was sending me a rope. Placing the file between my teeth,I hauled the rope in feverishly till at last the lower end of it was inmy grip. I dropped it into the cell behind me and with new strength,but with infinite care, I set myself again to my task upon the bar. Nowat the bottom, and now at the top I worked, the iron dust falling inlittle jets and trickling over the sill. Was it fancy, or was I workingwith greater skill?--the file seemed to bite more deeply and more easilyinto the iron. First on one side of the bar, then on the other, Iworked, changing from top to bottom, or from bottom to top, as too longwork in one position cramped me. Rasp, rasp ... I felt the bar vibratelike a violin string in the hand that held it. Rasp, rasp, rasp ... anda puff of wind from the outside blew the iron dust into my mouth andeyes. What cared I for that? Rasp, rasp, rasp ... and the top of thebar was cut so thin that I could break it through. I gripped the file inmy teeth and, seizing the stanchion high up with both my hands, threwall my weight upon it. It bent just above its base, but did not break,and where its iron fibres were at tensest strain in the bottom of thegroove which I had already cut, I set the file to work once more. Theiron gave like crumbling bread before the teeth of the file, till thebar was so thin that with one hand I could bend it in whicheverdirection I pleased. One strong pull towards me, one mighty thrustoutwards, and the stanchion broke with a snap so sudden that the handwhich held it shot out through the window. I steadied myself with myleft hand on the inner edge of the sill; then I dropped down on tip-toeand seized the rope. As I did so, my fingers touched the volume whichhad brought me to safety. Breaking the string which bound it, I slippedit into my pocket. It would never do to leave it, neither would it doto leave behind me the disguise I had worn. I gathered up the bundleand tied it tightly about with the cord, the end of which I took in myteeth. Then with the rope round my neck I swarmed up the wall to thewindow. To my joy, when I reached it, I found that in my efforts tobreak the bar I had bent the lower end inwards. The stump, thus curved,would give a securer hold to the rope upon which I was about to trustmyself. It seemed hardly strong enough to bear my weight, but itslength was ample, far greater than I should need. So I doubled it overthe stump of the stanchion and having passed it out over the sill, beganto worm myself through the window. Slowly and painfully I pushed my waythrough, and at last my head and the upper part of my body were beyondthe aperture. I bent forward, gripping the rope as far off as my armscould reach, and throwing my weight down upon my hands so that the ropewas taut, I wriggled myself through until I felt my toes were touchingthe inner edge of the sill.

  Now had the moment come for all my courage. Slowly moving my hands onebeyond another, I disengaged my feet from the inner edge of the sill andfor a moment hung head downwards. Would the rope hold? If not, Ishould crash upon the pavement beneath me, a broken, lifeless mass. Butit held! As I felt my toes slipping down the slope of the sill, Itwisted my body to one side so that my feet and legs described ahalf-circle, and for a moment I swung to and fro against the wall likethe pendulum of a clock. Then I lowered myself quickly. Before thelast of the rope had run through my hands my feet were upon the ground,and I was free. Somewhere a voice, close beside me, whispered, "No saebad. No sae bad." Turning, I saw Hector. He patted me on the back,and then whispered anxiously, "I hope you ha'ena forgot to bring myHorace?" I could have screamed with laughter, but all I did was to nodmy head with vigour. Then I took the cord from between my teeth andproceeded to haul upon it. The bundle at its end caught for a moment asit was passing through the window, and then fell, a dark mass out of theheights above, and I caught it as it fell. Hastily I put it intoHector's hands, and seizing the lower end of the rope jerked itonce--twice--thric
e. The loop above disengaged itself from thestanchion, and in its fall struck me upon the upturned face.

  The town-clock struck once. "Half-fower," whispered Hector. "For God'ssake let us hurry." Quickly I coiled the rope up into a hank. Hectorseized me by the arm and half dragged me across the street to a closemouth. When I tried to thank him he stopped me.

  "There's nae need o' that. Awa' wi' ye to Lincluden. Haste ye! Belowthe big window ye'll fin' a flicht o' steps. The second moves when yestep on it: but never mind--that's naething. The fifth seems firm: butit's no'. I'm the only man that kens that. Shove hard at the left-handbottom corner--and crawl in when it swings roun', and stop there till Icome for ye. Mary's a' richt and in safe hands. Dinna fash yersel'aboot her; but gi'e me the rope. I lifted it off the Provost'sdrying-green, and though I may be a liar, I'm no' a thief yet and I maunput it back. Awa' wi' ye like a hare."

  I needed no second bidding. Hurrying along under the shadow of thehouses, I soon found myself in a little lane which ran down to the edgeof the water. I made for the Staked Ford, crossed the river hot-footthere, and hot-foot raced on my way. Dawn had not yet begun to breakwhen I reached the Abbey. Once within the shelter of its walls I had nodifficulty in finding the steps of which Hector had told me. The secondmoved as I trod upon it, but I remembered his caution and hastened tothe bottom. Then I turned, and kneeling on the last step I pushed hardagainst the fifth as he had bidden me, and it swung round. I crawledinto the cavity beneath it and, turning, drew the step into place again.Then on my hands and knees, for there was not sufficient room to domore, I crawled on until I found myself in a spacious passage.