The Rogues

by Jane Yolen

  She brought us quickly into the kitchen, which was strangely deserted. “They must all be over at the big house helping get ready for the party this evening,” she explained. Opening a door at the back, she pointed down the short flight of dark stairs. Then she lit an oil lamp and showed us the way with her hand.

  Dunbar went first and had to duck under the lintel as we entered the windowless, low-raftered cellar. I came second and Josie last. The place was gloomy and seemed to swallow up the yellow light like a hungry beast. The only difference between it and a dungeon were the few dusty wine bottles sideways on a shelf and a pair of empty kegs squatting on the floor, their bungs wide open.

  “You keep hidden here,” she said, “while I fetch some food. Then you’ll not have hunger as an excuse for your rough tempers.”

  The Rogue and I picked a keg each to sit on and stared at the floor in sullen silence, with only hooded, sideways looks passing between us. I could feel the heat of his anger even in the cool of the cellar, anger that I had accused him of a shameful deed in his own refuge. But I’d no intention of apologizing for that. He could have told me, after all.

  The truth was, it galled me that Josie seemed to prefer Dunbar to me. Wasn’t it I who’d fought Rood on her behalf? Wasn’t I her little terrier?

  After a few minutes Josie returned with some bread and cold meat, plus two cups of water to wash it all down.

  “There’s only one maid about, and I’ve sent her upstairs to sort through my clothes for tonight’s party. But I cannot stay down here long lest someone find me with you,” she told us.

  “Ye shouldn’t be in this place at all,” I said. “It’s no right.”

  She laughed. “I used to hide here as a child, Roddy, and tell ghost tales to my dolls. You have such a strange opinion of me.”

  I was glad it was too dark for her to see how red my face had turned.

  Without waiting for any invitation, Dunbar helped himself to a slab of the meat. A shadow chewing a shadow.

  “I’m glad you’ve left off being contentious for a while,” Josie said to him as he chewed in silence. “Eating is better than scolding.”

  If she liked watching a man eat, I could do that. I tore off a chunk of the bread and nibbled at it. Then, emboldened, I made a small dig at Dunbar. “He’s used to covering his secrets with silence.”

  Dunbar rounded on me, his mouth still full of meat. “Ye’re the one hiding secrets. Why not tell us why ye came sneaking back to Dunraw, abandoning yer own family to their fate? What were ye up to, laddie, getting the laird so riled up he wanted you dead? Ye’ve never answered any of those questions.”

  “Leave the boy alone and let him eat, Alan,” Josie interceded. “I know he has good reason for all he’s done.” She held the lantern between us.

  Dunbar’s lip curled. “I watched over him because ye asked it of me, Josie, but I warn ye now, he’ll turn on ye quicker than a mad, slavering fox.”

  “Mad, slavering fox am I?” I stood, dropped the bread, raised a fist and might have swung at the Rogue, but Josie grabbed me by the shoulder and held me firmly in place.

  “No, Roddy, when he came to see me the other day and told me how he’d found you, I made him promise to care for you and keep you safe from my uncle. He’s done that much, even if he is being ungracious about it now.”

  “The lad’s healthy enough now to need nobody’s care,” said Dunbar. “Best send him on his way, but search his pockets before he leaves.” He took the lantern from her and started to guide her to the stairs.

  “Enough, Alan!” Josie said sharply, laying a hand on his wrist. “There’s been only one robbery here, and it’s Roddy who’s the victim.”

  Dunbar turned and shoved the lantern in my face till I had to move back or be burned. “What have you been telling her?” he demanded.

  Josie pushed the hand with the lantern away from me. “Nothing about you,” she said. “You’re not the sole cause and center of everything, Alan Dunbar, though too often you act like it.” She looked at me as if asking permission to tell the tale.

  I wasn’t happy to be sharing my secret with him, but there seemed no way around it now. Reluctantly I nodded.

  “It was my uncle took his prize off him,” said Josie.

  The Rogue cocked an eyebrow. “Prize? Aye, that’ll be what brought ye back to a burned-out ruin, then.” He paused, then continued to think aloud. “A secret store of money? But then why would yer father, canny soul that he is, ever leave without it? No, it must be something else, something worth tossing ye over a cliff for.”

  “It was a keepsake left by his mother,” said Josie. “Does that explain it to you?”

  Alan held the lamp over me again, though not so close as before. He leaned toward me and said quietly, “A right dear knickknack it must be to risk fire, rain and death for it.”

  “And no one ye’ll be getting yer hands on,” I told him.

  “Oho!” Dunbar exclaimed. “Ye’d sooner Daniel McRoy sold it off to buy himself a new set of hounds and a fine suit of clothes.”

  “A choice of robbers is no choice at all.” I stood up and put my hands on my hips, trying to look bigger and older. He hadn’t expected that, pulled back, and the lantern sent shadows dancing around the cellar.

  “And what if I took it, lad? Wouldna it be a fit reward for saving yer worthless life?”

  “Och,” said Josie, “you’re like a couple of cats squabbling over a fish in the water. You’ll drown each other before you ever catch it.”

  “We’ll go to the magistrate,” I said, guessing that any mention of the law would scare Dunbar off. “I’ll tell him my story and see Rood and the laird in gaol.”

  “What dream are ye sleeping through?” Dunbar mocked me. “The magistrate would never arrest the laird. That would be taking gold out of his own pockets.”

  Josie turned to me. “Alas, Roddy, Alan’s right. The magistrate’s one of the guests at my uncle’s house tonight. He’d never believe a poor crofter could own something that a laird would stoop to steal.”

  “So all that’s left is to break in and steal the bauble back, then,” said Dunbar.

  “That’s what I’d thought of. At first,” I told him. “But Miss Josie has a better plan.”

  Dunbar turned toward her and held the lantern high. I could see that he’d raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.

  Josie smiled slowly, the yellow lamplight sparkling mischievously in her eyes. “The house is too well guarded by servants to outright steal the bauble,” she said. “And I’ll not have either of you getting caught or harming innocents to make your escape.”

  Dunbar looked at her shrewdly, then laughed. “Ye’re a bonnie lass after my own heart. Ye’ve charmed Rood into helping ye get the thing back somehow.”

  Nodding at him, she clapped delightedly. “I’m to be a guest at the house tonight so my uncle can show me off as his latest piece of property.” She drew herself up as if doing the showing herself. In the lantern’s light it was a right beautiful show too. “I’ve agreed to go only if Rood persuades Uncle to let me wear some bit of jewelry worthy of a lady. There’s none in that house I can think of except what’s been stolen from Roddy. He may have some bits and bobs from his mother, my aunt. But the real jewels were my own—and those I’ve sold off. He’ll be forced to give me Roddy’s Blessing.”

  “So once ye have it, what will ye do?” asked Dunbar with a low chuckle. “Swallow it?”

  “I’ll throw it out the window for Roddy to catch, and when my uncle notices it’s gone, I’ll say I misplaced it.”

  “Misplaced it?” Dunbar snorted. “Do ye take the man for a dunce? He’ll have ye clapped in chains before ye’ve time to catch a breath.”

  I was stunned. It had certainly sounded like a good plan to me. But what if Dunbar was right? He had more experience in roguery than either of us. “I’ll not have that on my conscience, Miss Josie,” I said. “I’d sooner the laird kept the Blessing.”

  “No need
for such an extremity,” said Dunbar. He gave us both a wicked grin. “All ye need is a plan with a bit of craft to it. I’ll tell ye what, Mistress Josephine McRoy, get yer wee treasure out of the house and I’ll steal it off ye. As a favor.”

  I jumped to my feet and pointed at him angrily. “I knew it! I knew that was his aim all along! Don’t listen to him, Miss Josie.”

  “Wheesht, Roddy,” Josie answered me softly. “It might be the only way.”

  25 THE GARDEN

  Rood himself came to collect Josie that night, and the maid was sent off to her bed. By then our plans were well laid, and, little as I liked them, I could see no other way forward. While it had been Josie and me plotting, there was something special between us, almost as precious as the Blessing itself. But now Dunbar had taken charge, and I felt reduced to the role of a minor helper.

  He and I crouched by the window in the darkened parlor where I had told Bonnie Josie of my plan. We were careful to keep out of sight as we watched Rood escort Josie to the carriage. She nodded at him with mannered politeness as he opened the door for her.

  “It’s a wonder she can stand to be cooped up with yon lizard,” I muttered, twisting the lace curtain between my fingers.

  Dunbar growled. “It’s a short way, ’tis all.” But his body was so tense, he could have been mistaken for stone.

  “Long enough,” I said.

  As he watched the carriage disappear down the drive, Dunbar rubbed his rough chin. “She plays her role as if she’s just stepped out onto a stage,” he said. “I hope this trinket of yers is worth half the risk we’re taking over it. If anything happens to Josie because of it, I’ll …”

  “It’s nae ordinary trinket,” I said sharply. “It was a gift from Prince Charlie.”

  Dunbar raised an eyebrow. “The Bonnie Prince, eh?” He gave a short, scornful laugh. “I knew ye were keeping something close to yer chest, lad. Maybe it’s worth the taking after all.”

  Silently I cursed myself for letting that information slip. Even in the dark, there was enough moon out so I could see the faint trace of a smirk on his lips. He’d provoked me deliberately, and I’d fallen for it.

  “It wouldna be worth much to a man like ye,” I said, “that can make his living on whisky and poaching. But my family needs it to make a new life for ourselves in America.”

  “A new life?” Dunbar repeated. “Wouldn’t we all like a chance at that!” Again there was a brief flash of another man beneath the Rogue’s rough exterior. Then his old gruff manner returned as he pulled out his pocket watch and held it up to the fading light. “We’ve quite some time to pass here. We’d best keep ourselves to ourselves lest we wake that maid.”

  It had already been agreed that we should wait two hours before leaving so as not to allow any hint of suspicion that Josie might be in league with us. Once the laird and his guests had dulled their wits with too much food, wine and whisky, she would come outside so that we could stage our “robbery.”

  Dunbar settled himself in a chair, and it was soon too dark for me to see any expression on his face. His breathing was so soft, it was lost in the sound of the breeze whispering down the chimney.

  I sat opposite him and wondered if he could see me, his eyes being more used to darkness and danger than my own. Then, weary as I was from the morning’s trek, my mind began to drift and I fancied I might transform into a mere shadow, slipping off by myself to retrieve the Blessing without Dunbar’s assistance. I saw myself floating down the passages of Kindarry House, sliding under doors and squeezing through keyholes to explore every nook and cranny of the great house. Searching and searching, but not finding until—

  Dunbar’s hand shook me by the shoulder and startled me out of the dream. I jerked my head up and swallowed a yelp.

  He turned away and headed for the door. “No time for sleep now, lad,” he said with a hint of mockery. “We need to be about our work.”

  “I wasna sleeping,” I said, then gave up my feeble protest and followed him out into the night, closing the door behind us with deliberate care. By now I was well practiced at keeping up with him and stuck as closely as a shadow.

  If I hadn’t been so tense with nerves, I would have marveled anew at the expert skill he used in seeking out every scrap of cover, every spot where the faint light of the stars and moon was swallowed in shade. I imitated him as best I could, an apprentice of the night. The moon rode high above us, but slipped in and out of the clouds, and there was little wind. No one saw us leave, and no one watched us on the road.

  A mile along, we spotted the lighted windows of Kindarry House.

  Moving even more carefully now, we kept our eyes open for anyone wandering the grounds. Some half-dozen carriages were parked outside, their horses asleep standing up within their shafts until their owners were ready to leave. The sound of a fiddle wafted from one of the windows, and voices raised in laughter. Occasionally a horse roused, houghed noisily, then sank back into sleep.

  We crept into the cover of the low wall that surrounded the garden on the western side of the house. If all went according to plan, this was where Josie would appear with the Blessing—if the laird had lent it to her. And this was where she would become an innocent victim of robbery.

  “Can ye find the stable?” Dunbar asked.

  “Of course,” I answered. “I’m nae bairn.”

  Dunbar merely nodded. “Fine. Pick us out a good horse and keep it ready.”

  Frowning, I set off, running in a crouch to keep from sight. Josie had told us that the stables were on the far eastern side of the house and that the two lads who usually worked with the horses had been made into servers for the party, so it would be unguarded. How she knew this was a puzzle. House gossip, I supposed.

  As I ran, I once more considered Dunbar’s plan. It seemed simple enough. Overcome with the heat of dancing, Josie would come outside in the garden to take some air. And there, in view of one of the windows, the Rogue would steal the Blessing from her. Her false screams would attract witnesses to prove that she’d been waylaid so that no guilt could be attached to her. None here knew of the connection between her and the Rogue. Meanwhile, I was to wait behind the stable with a horse saddled and ready to go.

  Josie had assured us that all the Kindarry House servants would be busy dancing attendance on their master and his friends, the coachmen happily drinking in the great kitchen with the cook and her scrub maids. But if anyone did come upon me, I was to say I’d been sent to prepare a mount for one of the guests.

  Yes, simple. Yet the scheme worried at me still. There was so much that could go badly. What if Josie couldn’t get away? What if someone glanced out of the window at the wrong time? Worst of all, what if the trinket the laird offered Josie was not the Blessing? A dozen different disasters rose up to haunt me, each one worse than the last. But when I’d raised them with Josie, she’d hushed me, saying, “I trust Alan is resourceful enough to handle whatever occurs.”

  Trust him? Yes, everything depended upon our trusting the Rogue. For all that I had learned of him, for all that I owed him, I still couldn’t help but fear that the Blessing might prove too great a temptation for him. The idea that I might be robbed a second time was more than I could bear.

  I tried to put such thoughts aside as unworthy, but when a seed of doubt is planted, it needs no rain to make it grow.

  The stables were unguarded as Josie had said. Any servants who weren’t at work about the house were sitting at a long table in the manor kitchen, helping themselves to whatever fine food was left over from the laird’s dinner party, or so Josie promised.

  I’d never seen such a huge place for animals. Our byre had been small, cozy, crowded, stinking of horse and cow. The laird’s stables were fully five times the size of our small holding, a place of shadows, the horses themselves denser shadows, snorting and rustling amongst fresh straw, each in separate stalls. But it still smelled like our byre, that musky combination of dung, feed and leather harness.

&nbs
p; There were plenty of horses to choose from. Josie had told us that the laird loved his horses and treated them better than his servants. Every one of them put our poor old Rob Roy to shame. And he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he hadn’t been good enough for the laird’s stable and had been handed over to someone else, a guard or Willie Rood. I pushed that thought away and went slowly down the line of stalls.

  The well-groomed, sleek horses all stared at me, snuffling and snorting and stamping their feet. I felt most unwelcome there.

  At last, I picked out a shaggy walnut mare, chiefly because she didn’t stamp her hooves and snort when I approached her. Fastening on her saddle and bridle, which I found in a small room full of saddles and bridles, I led her out across the grass to a stretch of pine trees. Stroking her muzzle to keep her calm, I tied her up to a sapling, on the windowless side of Kindarry House. Then, with my suspicions of the Rogue like a burr under a saddle, I headed back to the other side to keep an eye on him.

  Dunbar was still crouched where I’d left him, so I took up a position among the bushes where I could spy on him without being seen. Once again, I wondered at how easily Bonnie Josie depended on him, as if she had some insight into his heart. It made no sense to me. And how quick he was to do her bidding, which made even less sense.

  After a long wait, I saw him check his watch, then stuff it back into his pocket. He slid over the mossy wall and disappeared among the garden greenery, like a blackbird among shadows. I scrambled to the wall and took over his previous hiding place, but when I peered over, I couldn’t see any sign of him. It was as if he’d disappeared, a part of the greenery or a part of the wall.

  The fiddler took up a fresh tune inside the house, and there was a clatter of some dishes being dropped. The laird’s voice rose like the keen of a pipe to berate the luckless servant. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like in there, to have all the food and drink you could wish for and obedient folk to bring them to you while you sat at your ease.