by Jen Black
“He’s a brave lad and no mistake.” Meggie cuddled her little girl and rocked her. “Then he came back? There’s more?”
Alina nodded. “Oh, yes.”
Meggie nodded at the girl in her arms. “But the little one’s very nearly asleep. We’ll hear the rest tomorrow.”
In no time at all, the children and Alina were bundled up a rough ladder to the half-gallery floor above, where straw and a couple of rugs made a bed for the children.
“If ye squeeze in wi the bairns ye’ll stay warm enough.” Meggie waited till Alina lay down and then retreated, taking the candle with her. Darkness settled over the gallery. Alina snuggled in next to Mary, though Jack insisted, with manly dignity, on maintaining some distance between them. Alina didn’t mind. She was so tired she could sleep on a pikestaff, as she once heard her brother Lionel remark.
When silence settled down over the barn-like dwelling, there was only the breathing of the children to keep her awake. No sounds came from below, where Meggie and Johnnie no doubt had a bed in one of the dark recesses on the ground floor.
She wondered if, given a little time, she might make a friend of both Mary and Meggie. Judging from the worn appearance of Meggie’s woollen kirtle and the darns in her shawl, the family was not earning enough to live comfortably. The children’s clothes were little better, for Jack’s shirt was far too large for him, and had to be a hand-me-down from an older boy. Or perhaps a shirt of his father’s, cut down to fit him. Mary’s kirtle had been roughly cobbled together by someone not too experienced with a needle.
Alina sighed. Life was hard for these people, and yet they were generous with what they had. Johnnie had stolen her, and yet even he had offered her no violence, and owned a dry humour she found amusing. She stared up into the rafters. Telling of Harry’s Leap had woken her own fighting spirit and her last thoughts before she fell asleep were that she must look about her for a way to escape and get back to Harry.
Happily dreaming of his blue eyes and warm smile, she vowed that she would be off and on her way home by midday tomorrow.
***
Harry watched the bulk of the group peel off with their stolen horses, and followed Alina and her captor down through the wooded dene. Lurking in the deepening shadows, he watched the man and boy stable the pony and return to the house. Assuming no further action until daybreak, Harry retreated, rode to Bew Castle and demanded access.
The guards were leery of a stranger arriving after nightfall, but Harry used his father’s name and was duly allowed in and escorted to the commander of the garrison.
Harry ducked under the lintel, walked into a small wood panelled room with a fire burning in the hearth and smiled with relief when he recognised the stout, middle-aged figure and florid features of Henry Burton.
“Harry!” Burton looked up, full of surprise. “My dear fellow, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“I need your help, sir.” In swift, concise sentences Harry outlined his problem and watched Burton’s expression change from surprise to outrage and then to concern.
“You don’t know, then, precisely who has the young lady?”
Harry shook his head. “No, but I know exactly where she was taken. A small dwelling built onto an old tower down in the dell below the church.”
“Ah! Then that would make it Johnnie Hogg who has her. He’s a cunning fellow, but not vicious. He’ll not harm her, you can rest assured on that score.” Wreathed in wrinkles, his eyes twinkled. “Besides, his wife would have something to say about it if he laid a hand on your young lady.”
“Sir?” Harry gaped at the older man. Burton seemed unconcerned at the thought of a young girl in the reiver’s clutches. “Surely we should take men and affect her release at once?”
“Time enough tomorrow, I think.” Burton smiled. “It’s nearly midnight, and you look exhausted. If you set off after these fellows mid-morning, you won’t have eaten all day.” He walked to the door, opened it and bellowed for food and ale.
“But she could be in danger at that man’s hand—”
Burton closed the door and shook his head. A wall lantern above him revealed the pink scalp showing through his thinning hair. “She’ll come to no harm in Hogg’s house. He has a wife and two small children. Take my assurance, lad, she’ll be in no danger. All Hogg wants is money.”
He sounded convincing and Harry could hardly force him to rouse the guard. A tap on the door brought a plateful of cold beef, pickles, bread and a brimming tankard of ale. Harry’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled. He took his place at table, and let the heat of the fire sink into his bones.
***
For the second time in three days, Alina awoke to darkness and the unsettling feeling of not knowing where she was. Still foggy with sleep, she glanced around. At first she thought she was in the hay loft at Grey, with straw beneath her. The rough, scratchy wool blanket, swiftly and loosely woven, held an odour that was new and different. It scratched her chin. Her eyes felt gummy and sore, as if she’d spent far too long in a smoky atmosphere. It was hard not to cough. Nor could she recall why there was a small, warm body on either side of her.
It wasn’t absolutely dark. Light filtered through from somewhere above her head. Lifting herself gently on one arm, she surveyed her surroundings. There was a raftered roof and thatch above her, and stone walls around her. She faced a stone wall. Behind her head was a low wall of wooden planks, which marked the huge drop to the main floor of the hall below. The gallery was perhaps nine feet wide, and open at one end to allow access from below.
Memory filtered back, slowly at first, and then at great speed. Today she should have awoken in Harry’s arms as his legitimate wife, duly witnessed and attested by all in front of the Lord. Her father had no control over her now.
She grimaced. He did, of course, for the marriage was incomplete. A wave of regret swamped her, swiftly followed by a wave of something hotter, stronger and much more urgent.
She must get out of here and find Harry.
Looking about her, Alina wondered about Johnnie Hogg. She understood he needed gold to feed his family, and that she was intended to be his means of achieving it. She suspected he was also one of those men whose bark was far worse than his bite.
The children slept on. Gazing at them in turn, she smiled. So much for Jack’s protestations about sleeping alone last night. Here he was, curled in at her side, one palm beneath his cheek and with the hint of a smile about his mouth.
If she could extricate herself from the blanket and the straw without waking either of them, perhaps she could sneak down the ladder and leave before any one woke. No sound came from downstairs. Once outside, she would find someone who could help her. The castle must be nearby, and she could ask for help there. Or perhaps she could take one of the ponies the reivers stole yesterday. If she headed south from here, she would find the line of the Wall and then all she had to do was ride east until she found the river. It couldn’t be too hard to find her way home.
Slowly, inch by inch, she drew herself up from between the children. Straw creaked and rustled, and every sound seemed magnified in the silence. Hardly daring to breathe, she got to her feet, backed away and then stepped carefully towards the ladder. Small twinges ran through her muscles from the exhausting ride yesterday but she gritted her teeth and carried on.
Someone thundered on the door below. Instinctively Alina sank to her knees with her heart leaping in her chest.
“Wake up, Johnnie.” The strong young voice came clearly through the ill-fitting door. “It’s a fine bright morning and we’ve business afoot.”
Alina peered over the partition behind her and saw a flash of white in the gloom of the hall below. Johnnie grunted, sat up in his bed and a leather boot flew through the air. It landed with a thud against the door.
“Now, Uncle, that’s nee way to greet ye nephew.”
A rustle of straw announced Jack’s presence at her elbow. “Da! It’s Uncle Tom!” he called.
Alina ducked back to bed and then thought better of it. Far more natural to be alarmed and curious. She shuffled back to the partition where Mary had joined Jack.
“As if ah didn’t knaw that.” Johnnie’s mutter was loud enough to carry to the three on the gallery. They watched him stagger across the floor in his shirt tails and heave the drawbar into the tunnel. When the door opened, light flooded into the hall and struck the arching wooden ribs of the dwelling. A tall young man strode inside.
The children yelled a greeting. The newcomer swivelled on his heel and lifted his gaze to the gallery. Alina sank back out of sight, but she hadn’t been quick enough. The young man’s eyes had opened wide when he saw her. “Morning Jack and Mary. Who is that I see beside you?”
“Oh, it’s only Alina,” Jack called. “She came last night.”
Curiosity drew her back to the partition.
“Mistress.” Tom swept off his headgear and made an extravagant bow in her direction. “Tom Graham at your service.”
Jack exploded in a burst of giggles. Alina did not like the way the young man’s bold gaze scoured her. Nor did she like the extravagant curled feather in his black hat, the dashing swagger with which he moved or his attempt at gentrified speech. His stare and his untidy attire, proclaimed him less than a gentleman.
“Hush, Jack.” It was a reflex reprimand, one she would have given her younger brothers.
Alina registered the name but offered nothing to the man downstairs. Meggie walked into the shift of sunlight, a woollen shawl pulled close about her shoulders. Johnnie, now fully clad in fustian doublet and grimy leather breeches, followed her. He did not look happy, and glared red-eyed at the gallery. “Get yersel’ doon ’ere,” he roared.
“Does he mean you or me?” Alina looked at Jack.
“All of us,” the lad muttered. “Come on. He’s awful tempered of a mornin’.”
On the ground floor, Alina felt less safe. Instinctively, she moved over to Meggie, offered to help with the pot of oats and water and found herself in charge of the big ladle. Jack squatted beside her and a few minutes later Mary came to her other side.
“I heard you took the lass for hostage yesterday, Uncle.” The young man seemed to have no fear of his uncle’s morning dourness. “Is that her?”
“Aye, if’n it’s any business of yourn.”
Alina’s hand shook as she stirred the porridge. The young man’s glance slid over her body in a way that made her uncomfortable.
Oh, Harry, where are you? Alina gripped the ladle and stirred the porridge rather wildly. Why couldn’t Harry have marched in as bold as brass like this stranger? She glanced over her shoulder and met another unsavoury leer.
“Your business, Uncle. But she is a bit of a beauty, and I like the look of her. I could keep her busy for the day, if that would be to your liking.”
Air hissed between Alina’s teeth, and Mary bit her lip.
Coldness settled in the pit of Alina’s stomach and worked its way up until she shivered violently.
Meggie banged bowls down on the table with a resounding clatter and shot a venomous look towards Tom Graham.
“Woman, woman, can a man not have a bit o’ peace in his own hame?” Johnnie whined. He pulled his jack over his shirt and stabbed a blunt finger in his nephew’s chest. “Gan on hame, Tom. When I have summat for ye, I’ll let ye knaw.”
There was a moment’s silence in which Alina did not dare look round.
“Gan on, lad. There’s nowt for ye ’ere. She’ll gan back to her father the way she came and ye’ll not be putting ye clammy hands on ’er.”
Alina’s relief was such that she dropped the ladle in the porridge and Jack had to fish it out for her with a bit of stick.
***
Harry woke from a deep sleep to something shaking his ankle. Alarm ran through him and he flung himself up, then he recognised the voice that growled at him in a monotonous undertone. He sank back on his elbows.
“Wake up. Wake up. For the love of God, Harry, wake up. Do ah have to drag ye out by ye feet?”
Lifting his head, he squinted at the burly figure at the end of the rough soldier’s cot allotted to him. “Jesu, Matho, it’s not light yet.” He rubbed his eyes and glanced around the empty dormitory. There was daylight beyond the small windows, but only just.
“Sun’s up,” Matho said. “Open your eyes, man.”
Harry yawned, sat up, stretched his spine and concentrated as Matho’s rough northern speech flowed like a beck in spate.
“’eard what happened to ye yesterday.” He grinned. “Reet performance that was an’ no mistake. Thought ye might need a bit o’ help again, an’ Carnaby ’ad nah objection like. Errington’s no’ far behind me. They stopped off at Lanercost, said they’d come on at first light. Ah came straight ower Black Rigg and Side Fell, mesel’, thought ah’d find ye first like.”
Dragging the fingers of both hands through his hair, Harry swung his legs over the side of the narrow cot, stood up and discovered he’d gone to bed with his boots on. He yawned again, stretched and looked Matho up and down. “You slept rough last night?”
“Aye. A haystack makes a nice warm bed when ye stuck. D’ye knaw where she is, then?”
Harry dipped his face into the bowl of cold water, shuddered and patted his skin dry on a square of linen before he turned to the redhead. “She’s in an old barn-like place built onto a peel tower in yonder dene.”
Matho’s grin disappeared. “There’s business there already. A rider came in from the north as ah scouted around the castle to find ye.”
“Alone?”
Matho nodded. Harry flung the linen aside, and as one, they headed for the door and ran the quarter mile from the outer bailey to the Kirk Beck. Harry checked both up and down the sides of the sloping dene, and saw nothing untoward among the trees. Matho nudged his arm and pointed. An over-dressed young man rode a flashy chestnut up the track towards the lip of the dene.
“That’s ’im. Didna look ower pleased, did ’e?”
“No,” Harry said thoughtfully, looking back at the square stones of the tower by the beck. “But I think I have a plan.”
The sun caught Matho’s red hair as he gave Harry a sharp look. “As lang as it doesn’t mean walkin’ in there like that lad did, I’m listenin’, but mind, that’s all I’m deein’. Ah knaw what a mad de’il ye are.”
Harry grinned. “You’re a mind-reader, Matho. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He took two strides towards the dwelling, and glanced back over his shoulder. “Coming?”
Matho scowled. “Aye. Alreet.”
Halfway down the slope, Harry heard muttering behind him. “Having second thoughts, Matho?”
“Aye, damned right. What if there’s a ’ouseful o’ men in there? Thought of a plan, ’ave ye?”
Harry paused. “My father and Burton, the man in charge back at the castle, are friends. Burton tells me that Johnnie Hogg will not harm Alina and wants only money for her return.”
Matho’s eyes focussed on something behind Harry. “The door.” He pointed, and dragged Harry behind the nearest tree trunk. With a finger to his lips, he parted the leaves.
They both stared towards the small figure in blue sidling out of Hogg’s dwelling. The girl reached for the ring to pull the door shut behind her, and then hesitated and peered around the glade, obviously unsure which way to go.
Relief ran through Harry like a wave, and the strength of it surprised him.
“Gan on, man,” growled Matho. “Dinna stand there wi a foolish grin all ower ye face.”
Harry stepped forward. At that moment the door of the dwelling opened wide, a man’s hand clamped on the girl’s arm and wrenched her back inside. The door slammed shut with a resounding bang.
“Damn!”
Matho’s bleak tones came from behind him. “Aye, well, what’s plan two, then?”
His gaze still on the door, Harry straightened his shoulders. “Nothing wrong with plan one, Matho.�
�
“Off ye go, then. I’ll watch ye back.”
Harry examined the redheaded young man who had become something close to a friend over the last few weeks. Matho had a formidable presence and there was none of the usual servile resentment in the cool, calm eyes that surveyed him.
“You love her too, don’t you, Matho?”
Matho opened his mouth as if to spit out a pithy remark, and then hesitated. He shrugged. A wry smile touched one corner of his mouth and he nodded briefly. “Aye, you may be reet at that.” His grin widened. “But for the Lord’s sake don’t tell ’er. A man’s got to ’ave some pride. Anyroad, ah’m not breaking me heart ower it.”
“Come with me. You can watch my back far better in there than out here.”
Matho glared at him. “Ah canna think o’ anything mair stupid than gannin’ in there.”
But when Harry walked boldly up to the door and used his fist on the worn boards, he knew Matho was right behind him. Around them the sunlight strengthened and leaves rustled in the breeze sweeping down the dene. Sharp movement, hastily cut off, came from the other side of the door and a thick, throaty voice demanded “We’se there?”
Harry looked at Matho with raised brows and an expression of annoyance. “Can’t these people speak English?”
“T’is English, man. They talk like that around the east end of the Tyne. Ye’ll get used tae it.”
Harry frowned, and stared at the door. “Open the door, Hogg. I’ve a proposition for you.”
A light feminine squeal of delight from inside sounded as if it was cut off before the owner intended.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like Alina.”
Matho raised his brows in a question and nodded towards the door.
Harry shrugged. “Go ahead.” It made sense that the man Hogg would speak more readily to Matho than himself.
Inflating his lungs, Matho bellowed. “Johnnie, me name’s Matho Spirston and we’ve a deal for ye. Money for the lass.” The redhead turned to Harry. “How much have ye got wi ye?”
“Enough.”
“’e’ll be greedy.”
Harry’s brows rose. “If he’s too greedy,” he said softly, “tell him I’ll go back to the castle and borrow Burton’s troops for half an hour.”
