Wild Catriona

by Oliver, Marina

  As she rode on she tried to plan for every possibility. If her expectations were not met, and she could not obtain a position and earn the money she needed, she would sell some of the fabrics. After a few weeks she might risk going to Leith, before the winter storms made the North Sea too rough for comfort. A few of the rugs, she knew, were worth considerable sums. There was a shawl, too, from Kashmir, which was extremely rare and would probably fetch enough by itself to keep her and pay for her passage. It was the twill weave, woven from fine goat's wool, beautifully soft and warm, and the border pattern was of delicate flowers, not perfect blooms, but with broken leaves and drooping stems. It would be a pang to part with anything, but if it became necessary, she would. She relieved the monotony of the journey by calculating which of her treasures she could best part with, and what sum she would demand for each.

  It was late in the afternoon, just before dusk, when she heard horses galloping along behind her. The air was still, and sounds carried a long distance, but within minutes they would be upon her. There was no reason to suppose her uncle had followed her, but the riders were pushing their horses hard. Men were seldom in such a hurry they had to risk laming their mounts on the often rough Highland tracks. Catriona decided on discretion, and looked about her for a hiding place.

  On her right side was a small river, with trees and thick undergrowth close by on the far bank which would provide excellent concealment. The river was fast-flowing and deep, however, turbulent where it tumbled over boulders scattered on the river bed. There was a risk of other rocks hidden by the water, and it would be difficult to ford, especially for the pack pony. Her fabrics would inevitably get wet, even if they could cross. There was no escape in that direction.

  To her left a jagged range of rocks, in places as steep as a cliff, curved away from the track, and a few darker shadows in the jumble of rocks at the base gave promise of shelter amongst them. A swift glance behind revealed no horses, but the sound of them was fast coming closer. She turned aside and pushed her way through the bracken, aiming for the deepest shade between the nearest rocks.

  To her relief it proved to be a narrow path, well-trodden and leading through a defile just wide enough for the ponies. It twisted immediately and concealed her, and after a few yards began sloping upwards. At one point the climb was steep, and Catriona had to dismount to pull and cajole the reluctant ponies up the roughest part, but after a short while they came onto a wide ledge almost at the top of the hill, which was covered with heather and clumps of trees.

  She tethered the ponies to some slender birch trees and went cautiously towards the edge of the cliff, crawling the last few feet so that she would not be visible against the skyline. Peering through the fringe of heather at the edge of the cliff she saw Thomas, Hugh trailing some yards behind, and even from this distance she could see the black fury on his face. Shivering, she blessed the fortunate chance which had enabled her to evade him. By his expression, he could have throttled her if he'd found her.

  She watched as they rounded another outcrop of cliff and vanished, then went thoughtfully back to the ponies. She hadn't considered his possible anger at her trickery. He'd been anticipating his love nest, with her compliance, and had been frustrated, spurned, and manipulated by her to defy his father. Thomas was vain, and to have a girl he'd favoured with his attentions reject him would be unbearable for him. Of course he would be furious, and if he caught her would make her suffer. He'd be smarting from humiliation, thinking she'd made a fool of him.

  How had he traced her? It must have been luck. He might have returned soon after she left, and encountered someone who had seen the direction she'd taken. She had made no attempt at concealment once away from her uncle's vicinity. Now she would be more careful, and she cursed her imprudence. If Thomas had stopped to ask in the villages, and met someone who'd seen her, he would know for certain she was heading for Glasgow.

  Ought she to change direction and go to Leith? Would he pursue her for long? She hoped not. Though quick to rouse to anger, Thomas was basically lazy, incapable of sustained effort. Once the heat of his fury had subsided, he would probably shrug and return to Edinburgh and his life there. She had been a challenge, a triumph when he thought she had succumbed at last to his blandishments, but he could not want her enough to maintain a pursuit. Besides, Glasgow was surely big enough to hide her.

  The light was fading fast, and she looked around her. She'd intended to sleep at inns along the way, but with Thomas so close it would be dangerous to venture near villages. She would not be able to see the path for much longer if she continued along this route on top of the cliff, so she must make the best of what offered, and sleep here. In tomorrow's daylight she could decide where to go, and find her way along more isolated tracks, where Thomas would be unlikely to seek her.

  There was a small stream, its water sparkling clear, tumbling down from the higher ground and vanishing down a cleft at the edge of the cliff. She led the ponies there to drink, after unloading the bundles. Then, tethering them again for safety, she left them to find what grass they could and began collecting heather to make herself a bed. It would be cold, but she had her cloak, and if necessary she could unpack the fabrics. Better, perhaps, to sleep between two bundles, using them for warmth. With her cloak they would form a sort of cave, a cocoon, and she would be reasonably comfortable. Luckily she still had some of the bread and cheese she had purchased for her midday meal, and eating that would help keep her warm.

  Crawling into her makeshift tent, Catriona began to nibble the food, and then lay, wrapped in her cloak, gradually drifting into sleep.

  *****

  Chapter 9

  The night was cold, but luckily dry, and Catriona was ready to move on as soon as it was light enough to see. She'd decided Thomas would give up if he found no trace of her on the way to Glasgow, so heading for there would be the safest option. She wondered whether she would see Rory Napier there. She told herself she was anxious to know if he'd been successful with the block printing, and dismissed the uncomfortable thought that his being there had influenced her own decision to travel to Glasgow. He could not help her, and she could scarcely appeal to him.

  Wary of all contact with strangers, Catriona avoided the villages, and even isolated crofts and cottages. There was much evidence of the poverty of the Highlands all about her, many cottages where the roof had fallen in through neglect, and some which had been burned to the ground, only the stones of which they were built still standing. Inhabiting poor land unsuitable for growing crops, these crofters had scraped a bare living before the Risings. Since then, they had suffered severely from English reprisals, eviction by landlords who wanted the more profitable sheep, and higher rents. Many had lost everything, and been forced to seek a living in the towns or even across the seas.

  She stayed on the smaller, less-frequented tracks, slept in the open, trapped rabbits and cooked two of them over small fires, hanging the other two behind her fabric bundles. She drank sparkling clear water from the streams, and wondered whether she could catch some fish. This would take precious time, however, so she abandoned the idea of a change of diet, and moved on.

  It would take her longer to reach Glasgow this way, but she was content, since it also gave Thomas longer to lose interest in searching for her.

  It was halfway through the next morning, when she rounded a steep cliff, that she came across two men sprawled on the grass at the side of the road. Two horses were tied to a tree just beyond and for a heart-stopping moment she thought they were Thomas and his friend.

  Then she saw they were in the uniform of soldiers, troopers, she thought, but not officers. The English army sent out regular patrols as part of their strategy for keeping the Highlands under their control. She had involuntarily pulled on the reins when she first saw them and her pony had halted. Catriona kicked him forward, urging him with a clicking noise. The animal moved slowly, too slowly. Before she could pass the men they had risen to their feet and were stand
ing astride the narrow path.

  'Please let me pass,' Catriona said quietly.

  The men, not much older than she was, she saw now, glanced at one another and grinned.

  'We exacts toll from travellers,' one said, his voice harsh and his accent so thick Catriona could barely make out what he said. They were English, she realised.

  'This isn't a toll road,' she insisted, wondering what they intended, and fearing it was not friendly.

  'It is fer the likes o' pesky Scots,' the other said, spitting at the pony's hooves.

  'But yer can pay another way, if yer likes,' the other said, and they sniggered.

  Catriona glanced ahead. The track stretched straight for half a mile, but it was empty. She was sure there had been no one behind her, and the place was isolated. Help would not be forthcoming, and she began to feel a twinge of apprehension. At the very least they might steal her fabrics, and the ponies, leaving her stranded, and she dared not imagine what the worst might be.

  'Is the rest of your troop nearby?' she asked, hoping the other soldiers might be more civilised, or have an officer who was a gentleman.

  'Nah, they'm all in barracks, nice an' comfy and wi' nothing ter do but play cards an' drink theirselves stupid.'

  'Do you play cards?' she asked.

  They laughed, unpleasantly. 'We'll toss up fer first chance wi' you,' one said.

  While she had been trying to distract them Catriona had been fumbling in the deep pocket of her gown, where she kept the knife with which she skinned and gutted rabbits, and used to eat. She edged the pony sideways, then gave a scream and pointed up towards the top of the cliff.

  'Look, a pack of wolves!'

  They spun round in alarm, and Catriona kicked her pony forward towards the other horses. Slashing at the reins by which they were tied, she managed to cut through one and the startled horse, rearing backwards, dragged free. It kicked the other as they both plunged, and Catriona spurred her pony into a startled gallop. The pack pony, laden as it was, still managed to keep up, and Catriona urged them on, fearful that the confusion she had left behind would soon be resolved, and they would come after her, intent on vengeance.

  The straight part of the track soon ended in a series of bends, and it began to slope downwards, but Catriona dared not stop until she came to a fork. Without hesitation she swung off into the narrower path, so overgrown with bracken and gorse which leaned across it, that it forced her to slow down.

  As soon as she could she turned off the track and pushed her way through the undergrowth. Thank goodness for tough Highland ponies, she thought, with their thick coats and sturdy legs.

  When she was hidden she halted, and listened. There was no noise except the heaving breath of the ponies she had ridden so mercilessly, the calling of birds, and a short distance away she could hear the tinkling splash of a stream. Then, too close for comfort, she heard the clop of hooves, and loud voices.

  She remained still. If she moved, they might hear her. She was well hidden, only misfortune could reveal her hiding place. After a while she relaxed. The noises were growing fainter, and they had clearly taken the wider path. When she could hear them no more she began to move, finding her way back to the narrow path and following it until, to her relief, she came to a narrow stream.

  Dismounting, she let the ponies drink, and then walked on, leading them both, until they came to a wider, obviously better-used track. For the rest of that day she avoided the larger tracks, and as dusk fell came across yet another of the ruined cottages she had seen. Tying up the ponies, she approached cautiously. It was possible someone else might have decided to shelter there, but if not, it would be a place where both she and the ponies could remain hidden for the night.

  She hobbled the ponies, who immediately began to graze. Cold and hungry, for she had not stopped to eat, Catriona lit a fire inside the cottage, in the old place where the stones still indicated a hearth. She was thankful for the rabbits she had kept, tired though she was of them, and roasted them over the fire while she went outside and gathered a pile of bracken for her bed, and placed it under the one section of roof in a corner which still appeared to be solid.

  To her surprise, for she had expected to stay awake listening for the sound of hooves, she slept soundly, waking at dawn refreshed and confident that all would now be well.

  Two days later, when the sun was at its highest, she could see the spires of Glasgow and the silver ribbon of the Clyde in front of her. The city was smaller than she'd expected, but there were several small villages strung out on the roads which led in all directions. She rode slowly towards Glasgow, and decided to pause outside for a while. She felt dirty, hungry and weary, and no one would offer her the meanest job while she looked so disreputable.

  In a village which she reckoned was three or four miles from the city, she approached a small inn with a rather dilapidated sign of the Thistle. Fortunately the landlord was unconcerned with her circumstances, or her unaccompanied state. She mentioned casually she was seeking work, and that was enough for him, once he was certain she could pay for the week's lodging she requested.

  By then, she hoped, she would have secured a position, and found a way of returning the ponies to her uncle. For the moment it was enough to be able to wash properly, eat food other than rabbit, talk to her friendly landlady, and as dusk fell crawl into a comfortable, warm bed.

  *****

  The landlord's wife, Mistress Cameron, was a chatty, inquisitive little woman, and had been especially curious about the bundles Catriona had carried up to her room. Catriona, sensing a source of much useful information, took the opportunity of asking questions in her turn.

  'Are ye going far?' Mistress Cameron had asked, eyeing the bundles with a puzzled frown. 'It looks as though ye've all your possessions there.'

  'I do,' Catriona replied. 'My mother died, and I'm going to live with my aunt. But I need to earn the money for the ship.'

  It was the truth, and she was certain her Dutch family would take her in. The landlady's eyes widened.

  'A ship? Then ye'll be going to that America, where all the tobacco comes from. It must be a very wealthy place, I think. There's hundreds of ships dock in the Clyde with cargo from there.'

  Catriona saw no advantage in correcting her, but smiled encouragingly.

  'If ye need a position, why not apply to one of the big new hotels in the town centre?' the woman went on. 'They're always looking for kitchen and chambermaids,' she added, with a sniff. 'Girls are flighty, they want to move on, to better themselves, they say, but it's my belief they're just restless, incapable of setting their minds to work. You'd have your keep too, and a bed. And with weathly people staying there, you'd do well for tips, no doubt.'

  'But I'd have to find somewhere for the ponies, too, or sell them. Where would I get the best price for them?'

  'Wouldn't the price of them help pay your passage?'

  'Yes, but I don't wish to arrive penniless. I need more money for the rest of the journey. My aunt lives some way from the sea.'

  Sending the ponies back, she'd decided, was impossibly difficult. She would sell them and send Uncle Colin the money. Surely that would be easier to arrange, so that he did not know where it had come from. Her landlady, though, had another suggestion.

  'Why not leave them here for a while? Until you're ready to leave. My husband often has the need for a pair of pack ponies, and in return for their use he'd feed and house them.'

  That would postpone the problem, Catriona decided. It would also make it easier to get to Leith, rather than the complication of having to use a carter's waggon for her bundles.

  First, she needed to see the city, so the following morning she joined a crowd of people walking towards it. They were, she discovered, the workers for whom there was no living space in the city, who walked there and back every day.

  The first surprise was the openness of it. None of the other towns she had ever seen had such wide streets, and huge open spaces surrounded by tal
l, elegant buildings. Bemused, she wandered along, admiring the tall buildings in the main streets, looking at the fashionable people strolling by, carried in sedan chairs and carriages, or riding well-groomed horses. This was normal for Rory Napier. She wondered where he lived, where his business premises were.

  In the High Street she saw the arched colonnades, with four storeys above them. She had seen equally tall buildings before, in Amsterdam, in fact her cousin and his family lived in one, but she had not expected such distinguished buildings. Then, on the hour, she listened to the church bells, and at midday as the bells in the Tolbooth steeple rang out watched the shopkeepers shut their doors, while men came from all directions to enter taverns and coffee rooms for their dinners.

  Catriona was not hungry. Her landlady had provided porridge and herrings for a hearty breakfast, and she was so fascinated by the life of the city, and the great buildings, she had no time for mundane tasks like eating.

  Later, feeling she knew the town, for there were not many streets, she walked past the new hotels Mistress Cameron had told her about. The Tontine, she'd been told, was the best. One part had recently been rebuilt, and seeing its stone pillars, and the clothes of the people who walked in and out, Catriona felt an unusual sense of timidity. She would not dare to ask for a position there. At least, she added, chiding herself for such craven thoughts, not until she had learned what to do as a chambermaid in a smaller establishment.

  The following day she began her search for a position amongst the smaller, older and less fashionable inns. At the third one she was offered a job as a chambermaid, and a bed in a small dormitory over the stables. This was, she felt, better than having to walk from the Thistle every day, even if she could have afforded its modest prices. Having arranged with the accommodating Mistress Cameron to store her bundles at the Thistle, she began her new duties.