by Jen Black
It was better than looking down at the ground.
The rough, uncouth voices around her gradually shaped words and phrases she understood. “Got yersel summat to play wi t’ night, Johnnie?”
Raucous laughter followed the remark.
“His missus’ll tak a butcher’s knife to his privates if’n he does.”
The pony jerked to a halt. Alina squeaked at the jarring impact. Before she caught her breath, the pony walked into a sluggish stream. Gobs of dirty water struck her face. Yowling in outrage, she got a mouthful of mud. Spitting and retching, howls of laughter increased around her.
“Sit up then, ye ninny.” The voice sounded amused and not unkind, but even when she braced both hands against the pony’s shoulder she could not lever herself into a sitting position. Her captor seized the cloth of her gown between her shoulder blades and yanked her upright. Relief was immediate. Alina clawed the wet, muddy hair from her face and looked down at her wedding gown. Blotched with wet, stinking mud, the blue silk was ruined. Mother would be furious.
“Aye, she’s a looker allreet. Mebbe worth a bit o’ marital strife, eh, Johnnie?”
The voice came from close beside her. Alina lifted her head and looked straight into the beady eyes of the nearest rider. He grinned at her, grizzled whiskers moving back over yellow teeth and his sharp blue eyes glinted with amusement.
“Less o’ yer lip, Geordie.” The growl came from the man behind her. “This one’ll earn me mair gold than ye’ve ever seen. She’s Carnaby’s lass. Him that dinged us over at Jedburgh.”
She knew the tale. Something as trivial as the price of a tankard of ale had stirred men into a fight a year or two back in Jedburgh. Archie Elliot of Thirtleshope had not taken kindly to having a front tooth knocked out and retaliated with a foray against her grandfather’s land at Halton. Cowsheds, barns and haystacks blazed, cattle had been stolen and never recovered. Alina did not dare turn and stare at her captor, but she stole glances at him from the side of her eye. Could this man be Elliot?
It was difficult to speak against the jolting motion, but she managed it in short bursts. “Is your name…Archie Elliot of…Thirtleshope, sir?”
A guffaw of laughter went up around her and the riders closed in to hear more.
“Man, she’s polite an’ all!”
“Ye be famous, Archie! The lass knaws ye!”
“Geddaway and keep them ‘orses runnin’ in a bunch.” The man behind her did not waste words and his stern tone did not spoil the men’s good humour, for they rode off, still laughing, and rounded up the two runaways that had made a bid for freedom.
Alina sneaked a sly glance at the whiskered jaw of the man whose corded forearm held her close against his chest. She judged him to be in his mid-thirties. His skin was pockmarked, ingrained with dirt and his clothes were ill-matched and of poor quality, but he rode with an easy grace, his gaze on the stolen horses and managed his pony with consummate skill. “Na, lass, I’m not Archie Elliot, but he’ll tek these ’orses for a good price.”
“Who are you, sir?”
“Me name’s Johnnie Hogg, not that it’ll mean owt t’ ye.”
“Why then did they call you Archie?”
A huff of laughter gave her the courage to glance back and she caught his considering brown gaze.
“’Cos them daft fools think it’s ower funny to call any man Archie if they think he’ll be rich someday soon.”
“But….Oh, I see. It’s because Archie is rich?”
“Aye.”
Conversation ceased as he guided his pony through a rocky decline and up the other side but once they reached the open ridge once more, Alina tried again. “Why have you kidnapped me?”
“Sit straight,” he commanded.
Hastily she turned to face the pony’s ears. “It’s supposed to be my wedding day.”
“Aye,” he said. She heard the grin in his voice. “Heard aboot it in Corbridge.”
“What do you hope to gain? Oh!” She grabbed at the pony’s mane as it leapt across a ditch and raced on.
“Gold,” said Johnnie Hogg.
She gazed at the horses running across the shoulder of the hill. “But Father won’t pay!” She bit her lip, but the jarring ride made her wary of biting clean through it. “Right now he’s probably glad to see the back of me. If you think my father is rich, you are quite wrong.”
“But yer uncle has money.”
So they’d heard of her uncle’s death. “I doubt Sir Reynold’s death will make Father a rich man. He’ll leave for his daughters’ dowries.”
Johnnie’s voice sharpened. “Then mebbe we’ll gie ’im yer ’ead in a basket.”
Horror widened her eyes and set her nerves on edge. Swallowing hard, she tucked her chin down almost to her breastbone. Her stomach heaved. If she vomited, she’d likely choke to death, for she didn’t imagine Hogg would stop riding. Employing every ounce of common sense and courage at her command, she breathed long and deep through her mouth and exhaled slowly.
Surely her head in a basket, as he had so neatly phrased it, would be Hogg’s admission of defeat when all else had failed? There was a long time, surely, before they reached that point.
But she would have to endure this, somehow. Did Harry know she’d been taken? He would, unless John Errington had killed him. That was the worst of all the miserable thoughts that scurried through her mind. She had to believe Harry had survived and would ride after her. She could hardly expect John to show much interest in what happened to her when she had shamed him so publicly.
What if this went on for days? What if Harry really were dead? Her stomach rolled. She told herself to be sensible. They wouldn’t have killed each other. Neither of them was so stupid, and Father or Grandfather would have stopped it before it got to that point. Or if they didn’t, Mama would have done something. Or bossy Aunt Agnes, who thought she ruled the roost. A weak smile crossed her face at the thought of domineering, loud-mouthed Agnes beating the opponents apart with her walking cane.
Alina stared at the land ahead through a blur of tears. The green slope rose slowly and steadily across the neck of England, where the rocks pushed through the rough grazing. She clung to the thought that Harry would be riding not far behind her, and it helped.
There was little chance of escape now, but later she must seize her chance. The trouble was that reivers kept well away from farms unless they wanted to relieve it of an animal or two. Looking at the wild landscape around her, her heart sank at the thought of the miles of desolate moss and rock she would have to travel before reaching safety.
It was cool on the uplands, and the breeze raised gooseflesh along her arms. The thin silk of her dress offered no protection. She remembered her dreadful night walk from Aydon to Grey House, and shuddered. Lifting her head, set her jaw and stared at the sky.
The only source of heat was the body of the man behind her. Tempting though it was to lean back and let his warmth soak into her, pride kept her spine rigid and her teeth clenched together.
***
So cold she could barely feel her limbs, Alina stared up at a sky clustered with stars. She kept her hands tucked in her armpits, but it did not help much. Wood smoke tickled her nose and soon the ponies slowed and picked their way downhill.
Johnnie cleared his throat, spat into the undergrowth and then half turned in the saddle. “Tak the beasts ower t’ Fat Johnnie’s place. Ah’m ganning’ doon wi the lass.”
The men wheeled off across the open hillside and were swallowed up in the darkness. She was alone with Johnnie. He guided the pony down a narrow track down a shallow incline among shrubs and trees. What would happen now? Nervousness gnawed at her. Appalled, she heard herself say “You’ll be taking me home to your wife, I suppose?”
“Aye.”
His reply lacked bite. Emboldened, Alina ventured another question. “What’s she like?”
“What’s it tae ye?”
He sounded indifferent rather than annoyed. Like Li
onel when he was tired and hungry. “I’m curious,” she said. “I think I know how my mother would react if Father brought a strange young girl home one night.”
A single snort of laughter encouraged her. “And ’ow would she greet him, then?”
“Oh, there’d be the civilities, then a frosty silence, and after that the questions would start. That would be in public. Actually,” she added slowly, “I can’t imagine what she would say in private.” It was fear that made her talk like this, but it was better than silence. Curry favour with your captor while you can. “Your wife isn’t going to like me, is she?”
“Aye, she will.”
“Why? Why should she?”
“’Cos ye’ll bring in silver, and she’ll like that fine.”
“She won’t beat me, then?”
There were things she feared more than beatings but she wasn’t going to voice them in case it gave him ideas. All day long she had squashed the word rape to the back of her mind whenever it appeared, but the thought chilled her even more than the wind. She might give thanks that she wasn’t a frightened virgin. At least she had that glorious night with Harry to remember. Even so, now the threat crept into her mind as a very real and possible danger, her stomach shrank into a hard little nut.
“Nah, lessen ye dae summat stupid like.”
“That’s a relief. What would you—she, rather, call a stupid thing?”
He didn’t answer. He was guiding his pony towards a dark building not far ahead, and as she spoke, the door opened and a stream of light shone across the darkness.
“Da!”
“Who is that?” Alina asked.
“Me lad.” He raised his voice. “Jack, cum an’ tak t’ pony.”
A lantern, not very high off the ground, bobbed towards them. The pony and the lantern converged and Alina looked down at a small boy somewhere between Lance and Cuddy’s age. “Hello,” she said without hesitation.
The boy’s upturned face was yellowish white in the light of the single candle. He held the lantern higher, and his eyes opened wide. “We’se this, Da?”
Johnnie dismounted, dragged her from the pony and pushed her through the door of the dwelling. Alina blinked. After the cold and windy darkness, the pungent aroma of warm wood smoke, tallow candles, boiling mutton, dogs and animals was welcome, though the air was so thick her eyes smarted and her hand went to her nose. She sneezed.
“We’se this, Johnnie?”
The speaker was a well-built, comely woman with powerful arms and a face flushed from the heat of the fire. She handed the ladle to the small girl at her side and walked forward, her calm eyes inspecting Alina from head to foot before she looked at Johnnie. “Well?”
“Cuthbert Carnaby’s lass.”
“An’ what’s she daein’ ’ere?”
Alina bobbed a stiff curtsy. “Good even, madam. I am so cold! May I sit by your fire?” She stepped forward, edging towards the welcome warmth.
“Ay, let ’er get warm, Meggie.” Johnnie rapidly stowed his gear on hooks by the door. “She’s had a long, ’ard ride the day.”
Meggie’s eyes widened at the rustle of expensive silk as Alina sidled by her to get to the fire. “An’ a dirty one, by the look of ’er.” She turned back to her husband. “And what do we do wi ’er, then?”
Chapter Twenty Three
Johnnie walked over to the fire and ruffled the curls of the small girl sitting there. The child grinned, revealing a wide gap in her front teeth and leant confidingly against her father’s thigh. Alina sank down at the side of the hearth, thinking of her own father, and could not remember him ever greeting her with such affection.
Johnnie and his son headed for the door. Alina waited until the door banged shut and then turned to meet the curious gaze of her hostess. “He hopes to extract money from my father,” she told Johnnie’s wife. “I told him I doubt that Father will pay out as much as a groat for me, and that I could be here forever. You know what men are like about daughters.”
Meggie nodded towards the girl on the stool. “There’s one might not agree wi ye.”
Alina followed her glance.
“Why doesn’t your father love you?” The child’s blue eyes looked worried.
Alina managed a choked, feeble sort of sound and hoped they thought it laughter. “Oh, he does, I’m sure. But he loves my brothers more.” She looked up, and her glance met and meshed with Meggie’s thoughtful brown gaze. Perhaps she ought to stop chattering. It might annoy these people and that would never do. “Am I in the way here?”
Meggie stirred, widened her eyes and shook her head. “Nay, you stay right where you are and get warm. Ye can keep yer eye on the stew while yer at it.” She turned to the deeper shadows behind her and lifted several wooden bowls from the crude wooden wall rack.
Alina smiled at the child beside her. “My name is Alina. What’s yours?”
“Mary.”
“Ah, such a pretty name. Like the princess.”
Mary’s mouth dropped open, revealing a gap in her bottom teeth. Hesitantly, she asked, “D’ye knaw the princess?”
Meggie plucked the ladle from her daughter’s hand, bent over the pot and doled stew into bowls. “Mary, ged up and tak these bowls to t’ table, there’s a grand lass. Jack and ye Da will be back in a trice.” The child scrambled to her feet to do her mother’s bidding.
It wasn’t long before Johnnie banged in through the door with his son trotting at his heels. “Summat smells good,” he muttered, rubbing his palms together.
The family clustered about the table and ate the stew from steaming bowls. Alina’s mouth watered but she stayed by the fire and said nothing. Perhaps they didn’t intend to feed her, or perhaps there wasn’t enough to go around. Johnnie bolted his share and scoured the bowl with a hunk of bread. “By, that were grand.”
Stretching her neck, Alina peeped into the blackened pot hanging over the fire. It looked empty. Resigned to a hungry night, she watched with little interest when Meggie seized her husband’s bowl and rose from the table. She walked to the hearth, filled it from the pot and thrust it at Alina.
Surprised and grateful, Alina took it in both hands and closed her eyes as she breathed in the meaty aroma. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at Meggie. “It smells delicious. I know I shall enjoy it. Thank you.”
Johnnie grinned and flicked a glance at his wife. “So ye should. The meat’s from one o’ the best farms around.”
Alina swallowed a mouthful and scooped up more. “I did not hear that remark,” she said softly and kept her eyes on the bowl.
Jack gazed at her with a look that clearly said she was stupid. “Da said the mutton came from—”
“I know what he said, Jack.”
The boy left his empty bowl on the table and came to the hearth. “Then why—”
Alina eyed him over a spoonful of fragrant stew. “I have two younger brothers. Cuddy is seven and Lance is nearly fourteen. When they are told something they don’t like, they pretend they never heard it. Sometimes they clap their hands over their ears. That way they keep their consciences clear.”
Jack’s eyes gleamed. “And they don’t do whatever it is they didn’t like!”
“Exactly.”
He regarded her with calculating eyes. “So…you don’t want to know the mutton was stolen but you want to go on eating it?”
She sipped broth from her wooden spoon. “I am devilish hungry.”
He laughed, Johnnie snorted and Meggie looked amused. “I should have been at my bridal feast tonight,” Alina murmured. “I was so nervous this morning I couldn’t eat more than a mouthful.”
Meggie’s spoon sank back to her bowl. “You got married today?”
Alina shook her head. “Not quite. The service didn’t…it didn’t go on long enough. I’m not married, though I should be…Je suis desolee,” she whispered. It wasn’t hard to pretend that she might cry at any moment.
“Ah, ye poor thing,” Meggie cried, gathering up both spoon an
d bowl and coming to the hearth. “Did ye want to marry the lad? It wasna a forced match?”
“No. Indeed, I desperately wanted to marry Harry.”
“Marry Harry,” chortled Jack. “Marry Harry, marry Harry….Ow.”
His mother’s elbow in his ribs put a sharp halt to his litany. Meggie nodded towards the ravaged blue gown. “That’ll be why ye be all dolled up, then.”
Alina nodded. “Well, this is my wedding dress. Not that it did me much good.”
“And what’s he like, then, this Harry?”
“Oh, he’s tall, dark—”
“And handsome, o’ course!” Meggie grinned. “Gan on, gan on.” She slurped the last of her stew off the spoon, handed her bowl to Mary and nodded at the table. The child obediently replaced the bowl while her mother turned to her brother. “Jack, clear the table. I want to talk to…”
“Aw, ma.”
“Dee it, Jack, before ah clip ye ear.”
Alina suspected Meggie wanted to talk of the outside world and happily obliged her. “My name is Alina, and yes, Harry is handsome.” She clasped her hands about her knees and smiled. “He has wonderful blue eyes that match the sapphire he wears on his right hand. We only met a few weeks ago quite by chance in Corbridge market…and then only because I was rather forward.”
“Ah can well believe that,” Johnnie remarked dryly. He got up, and went to sit in the only carved wooden chair by the fire.
Alina pulled a face. “Mama rebuked me later. Shall I tell you what happened next?”
Meggie nodded, round face aglow in the firelight. “Aye, it’s as good as a pedlar’s tale.” She let Mary climb onto her lap and settle down. “We don’t know this one, do we, lovvie?”
So Alina told the story of the bull, Harry’s encounter with the reivers and his subsequent lapse of consciousness. Meggie hung on every word, and Alina embellished it as much as she could. When she described her father’s return, the discovery of Harry and the confrontation in the hall, even Johnnie listened. By the time she got to the tale of Harry’s Leap, Meggie’s eyes widened and Jack bounced up and down at the news Harry had escaped.
