When Fate Dictates

by Elizabeth Marshall

  “My name is Corran Lamont, the wife of Simon Lamont. I have need to leave the city tonight,” I said, pausing for a moment in hope of catching his reaction, but he had none. “To do this I will need a horse. A good, strong horse and I will pay very well for the privilege of owning such a creature,” I concluded. My heart began to race as I feared he did not know this Mr. Taylor, or that he was perhaps too drunk to understand what I was asking. His features did not change as he took a hearty gulp from the jug in his hands. I watched as his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He raised his arm at an angle and I instinctively took a step back, but his only purpose was to wipe his hand across his mouth.

  “Well Mrs. Lamont, wife of Simon Lamont,” he said, his tone mockingly condescending. “I am assuming it is the Red Coats that you seek to avoid this night.”

  My heart raced at the mention of the Red Coats. My head told me to run but my gut instinct told me to stand my ground. I stared back at him, watching and waiting for him to make his next move.

  “There is no need for you to fear me,” he laughed, waving his jug toward his mouth again and spilling a large portion of its contents down his bearded chin. “Your husband and I have had many dealings and you are right to trust me,” he paused as he steadied himself on the bale. “I have heard that he is dead. You are a fortunate woman to still be alive. To honor the memory of my lost friend and to spit in the face of the Red Coats I will sell you your horse,” he rose, steadied himself and then flung the door to the stable behind the bale on which he had been sat open. “Do you have need of a saddle?” he asked, throwing me off guard.

  I stuttered, my words erratic and jumbled. “Err, I think, erm...”

  He interrupted me. “I would say that to ride the creature Mrs. Lamont you would have need of a saddle.”

  I nodded gratefully, and started to walk toward the open stable. “You can have Polly,” he said, handing me the reins to a beautiful pitch black creature. “I call her Polly after my missus,” he smiled, and with it I saw that the man was not as bitter as he had at first appeared. “She is a good horse and will see you right, strong as an ox but as gentle in nature as a butterfly,” he boasted, affectionately patting the creature. “Now be gone with you madam, this post house is host to your husband’s killers this very night.” And with that he turned and made to leave.

  “But how much do I owe you?” I called, watching him as he stumbled his way toward the back gate of the yard. He turned, clumsily. “Nothing Mrs. Lamont, she is my gift to you in sorrow for your husband’s parting. Now I told you, the Red Coats are all over this city; your husband’s killer is here. If you want to leave this city alive my advice to you would be to go now, before you bring attention to yourself.”

  As I felt the cold metal of the key in my pocket I took one more tentative glance at the post house. I wondered if the Red Coats would be interested in my leaving the city or if, as Simon and I hoped, they would expect it and just let me go. I was under no illusion, that if we got caught and Simon was shot again, he would not live through a second bullet. Focusing on the cobbles of the street I quickened my pace, willing the next few hours to be over and did not welcome the thought of the cold, perilous journey we had ahead. Riding the horse steadily through the cobbled streets of the city, it was not long before I reached the bridge over the Ouse.

  Slipping the key into the lock of the large warehouse doors, I sighed, realizing that the first part of the plan had indeed gone as hoped. The cold evening had provided me with a quiet city, most folk in their homes with their fires lit against the winter’s night. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, realizing for the first time how cold the air actually was. I cast a nervous glance toward the stone steps of the bridge, before pushing the door open and stepping inside the warehouse. Fortunately, I knew the space well and had no trouble locating the cart in the darkness of the room. Knowing that the cart would be heavy and cumbersome I mustered every ounce of strength I owned and pulled until I felt the wheels start to move. Once turning, the wheels moved smoothly through the large doors and out onto the cobbled path by the river bank. Harnessing the horse, I mounted the cart and began the slow journey home. Tears ran from my eyes as a blast of the icy wind blew head on, into my face. There was no opportunity on the return journey to worry about the Red Coats. My heart pounded with fear and my face burnt, as the wind whipped me unmercifully. I finally pulled the cart to a halt beside the narrow entrance to the alley on Stonegate. I bent slightly, rubbing my hands on my thighs in an effort to regain some feeling in my frozen legs. As I jumped from the cart onto the cobbled stones of the street, I cast a nervous glance down the street, toward the post house. All that remained now was to get Simon and Duncan safely from the house to the cart and out of the city.

  Locking the heavy oak door to our home for the last time, I took Duncan and went ahead to check that the path of the alley was clear. We had decided that I would drive the cart until we were clear of the city and that Simon should hide in the back, under some blankets to avoid being seen. Arriving at the cart, I climbed up onto the drivers’ bench, laying Duncan in a wicker basket next to me. Nervously I looked up and down Stonegate before signaling to Simon that all was clear. Unseen, Simon snuck through the alley and into the waiting cart on Stonegate. I felt the cart jolt as he slipped silently into it. Casting a quick, cursory glance behind me to reassure myself that he was safely hidden, I clicked the reins and slowly the cart started to roll along the cobbles. I glanced to my right as we approached the post house. My heart raced as I heard the rowdy mob of residents and casual drinkers echo around me. And then I saw what I had been dreading – I caught a glimmer of copper hair in the streetlamps. He stepped out in front of Polly, raising his hand, motioning me to stop. In that moment of panic I considered clicking the reins and running. However, praying that Simon would stay put in the cart, I followed simple logic and pulled on the reins, drawing Polly to an abrupt halt just in front of him.

  ******

  CHAPTER 17

  “Are you going somewhere?” my husband's would-be murderer asked, his voice dangerous and accusing. I nodded, returning his look with as much confidence as my terrified state would allow.

  “Yes, my son and I are leaving the city.” I nodded at the basket on the bench next to me.

  “And what makes you think I will let you leave alive?” he spat; his voice veiled with threat. I opened my mouth to reply, but my mouth was too dry to speak. His blue eyes never left me, glowing like the eyes of the devil’s cat, they delighted in my fear. Shivering, I pulled my cloak tighter around my neck. He grinned up at me, patting Polly roughly. She neighed and lifted her head, sensing the tension.

  “I have no reason to suppose you will let me live,” I replied defiantly.

  He frowned thoughtfully, his eyes scanning past me toward the cart.

  I twisted the reins nervously in my hands; watching, waiting, for that moment when I would have to make the decision whether to run or concede. If that moment were to come, I had no doubt that I would attempt to escape. We had fought too long and too hard to lose now.

  “That is a heavy load you have there,” he paused, moving his eyes back to meet mine. “And where is it that you think you are going?” he demanded.

  “South,” I lied, lowering my lids in the hope of avoiding detection. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw his head nod, slowly.

  “Aye, I had heard you two were headed to London.” His smile broke into a yellow-toothed grin. “I have no use for you tonight. Be gone woman and make sure I never have occasion to meet with you again.”

  Not waiting for further encouragement, I tightened the reins and clicked loudly as Polly began to move slowly down Stonegate. The cart behind me clanked awkwardly over the cobbles as I guided the horse steadily through the city and toward the gates to the north. My heart raced and my hands shook as we moved through the arch and onto the open road. Only then did I dare the briefest glance behind me. A quick flick of the reins and we broke into a canter,
the cart bobbed and rolled clumsily as we raced further and further away from the bright lights. I had no idea how far we traveled before I finally pulled Polly to a halt. Lulled by the roll of the cart, Duncan had slept through the entire journey. I glanced over at the wicker basket and watched his little chest rise and fall. Reassured of his safety I turned my attention to the back of the cart, where Simon was still hidden under a mountain of blankets. “Simon, it’s safe, we are away from the city,” I whispered, and then wondered why I had bothered to whisper. The night was black; blacker than I had seen since we had arrived in York and the road on which we had stopped was deserted. There had been no real need or reason for whispering.

  “Bloody Hell Corran, you don’t half drive a rough cart,” he said, rubbing his back as he walked around to join me on the driver’s bench. “Go on then, shift up, I will take the reins from here.”

  “You think you could have done any better then?” I shouted, annoyed at his criticism of my driving skills.

  “You said it yourself, this is an old cart and you knew full well that it would be a rough ride.”

  “I was starting to think I would have been better to take my chances with Angus than stay hunched up in the back of that cart for much longer,” he continued, ignoring my quips.

  “Angus!” I said, astonished. “You never said his name before.”

  “Aye, Angus is the vile Red Coat with whom I have the misfortune to share blood,” he paused, taking the reins from me. “Mind, I would rather shed his blood just now, than share it.”

  “Do you think he believed me, I mean when I said that I was headed for London?”

  “Aye, I should imagine he did. He thinks me dead and if he had any doubts he would not have let you go Corran. Angus is no fool, but in this case he doesn’t realize just what he was dealing with.” He turned and kissed me gently on my forehead. “Thank you Corran, you did well tonight.” The cart started to roll behind us as Polly moved slowly forwards. “But I think we should take the rest of the journey a little slower, this poor horse will not last the night if we continue to drive her so hard.” He teased, as I reached my hand across and rested it lightly on his thigh. “Do you have any idea where we should go?” I asked, curious to know if Simon had any plan outside of our exit from York.

  “Aye, that I do,” he replied simply.

  I waited, but there was nothing but silence between us. “Are you planning on sharing them with me?” I said, growing annoyed. He smiled, knowing his silence had irritated me.

  “That I will Corran but only when I have them fixed in my own head.” It was obvious by his tone that he had no intention of sharing his thoughts with me this night and I felt too exhausted to push the matter any further. Instead I settled on moving my hand from his leg and sternly folding my arms in exaggerated disapproval. His only response was to fix the reins firmly in his right hand and move his left hand gently onto my thigh. It was the appearance of Duncan’s little blond head popping up from the wicker basket that finally broke the tension between us. I bent over and gently lifted the little boy, wrapping him snugly in his blanket, up onto my lap. “Hello little man,” I whispered, drawing him tightly against me, “Mummy and daddy are taking you on an adventure and it is going to be so exciting,” I continued, trying to reassure him. He rested his head heavily against my chest and I wrapped my arms protectively around him. “Simon, the sun will be up soon and the horse needs a rest, water and food. We will have to stop soon.” He nodded in agreement.

  “I was just thinking the same, and wee Duncan will need something to eat and drink too.”

  “You know, Simon, we can’t drive the cart all night then sleep all day. Who will watch Duncan while we sleep?”

  “We won’t travel through the night. We will make our journeys cautiously in daylight and sleep at night until we are well clear of York.”

  The sun was just starting to rise in the early morning sky and I could just make out the shadow of his face.

  “I thought it would be like it was before when we fled from the glen.”

  He shook his head. “No Corran, why would it need to be?” He did not wait for me to reply. “Those that matter think me dead; and those that don’t, won’t think anything strange about a family traveling with a rickety old cart. We will be fine.”

  He was right; we had little to fear, aside from the usual obstacles that came with long travel in the middle of winter. We were unlikely to attract the attention of anyone. We were just a family heading north and our cart certainly didn’t make us appear wealthy enough to be of interest.

  “Just now though, I don’t see any inns, so I think today we will need to rest, water and feed the horse on the road. Tonight we will sleep in the cart and then travel by day and if we are lucky we will find an inn by nightfall.” Duncan wriggled in my arms and I patted him gently, singing softly to settle him until Simon was ready to stop. Simon stretched his arm across and rubbed the little boy’s head. “Hang on in there wee Duncan, I will get you some food and a warm fire very soon.”

  “Simon, do you have any idea where we are?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he raised his eyebrows in jest. “Do you not?” he teased.

  “You know damn well I have no idea where we are, or I wouldn’t have had need to ask,” I said.

  “Right now, Corran, we are headed west.”

  “West?” I replied in surprise. “Why are we going west? I thought we were heading north?”

  “And we shall head north very soon, only I want to look someone up in Harrogate first.”

  “Oh! Who do you need to look up?”

  “No one that you will know Corran,” he answered, in that tone I had come to learn meant that the discussion was over. “However, that is a while off yet,” he continued. “Duncan needs some food and this horse needs some rest, so right now I shall concentrate on providing just that.”

  It was not long before we had pulled off the road and into a small clearing in some trees beside a stream. Simon unhitched Polly and I set about rooting through the cart in search of some food for Duncan. Soon we had a good fire and camp set up and the three of us huddled together as we ate for the first time since leaving York. It was a cold, damp and gray day and I was glad of the warmth of the fire. Simon handed me a flask of whisky, which I took thankfully but regretted it as soon as I drank from it. All of a sudden extreme tiredness came over me and I blinked hard in an effort to keep my eyes open.

  “I am so tired,” I said to Simon, blinking again.

  “Put your head down for a while, I will watch the wee lad.”

  “But you must be tired too Simon.”

  “If you sleep now and I watch the lad, then I will sleep later. I have to attend to the horse and I think Duncan would enjoy helping me with that.” I saw the sense in what he said and nodded gratefully. He moved over toward the cart and pulled two blankets out.

  “Here, wrap these around you and settle by the fire. The lad and I have work to do,” he said, lifting Duncan onto his shoulders. “You come with daddy and we will go and see to Polly. Mummy needs some rest.”

  I woke to the sight of Simon and Duncan both fast asleep in front of the fire. I found some twigs and placed them gently on the smoldering fire. They popped and smoked as the damp wood touched the hot embers and I watched, with bated breath, hoping that they would not smother the fire. As it went, the twigs did catch and soon flames were glowing from the fire. The damp morning mist was lifting as the sun rose higher in the morning sky.

  For the hour or so that Simon and Duncan slept I busied myself with clearing up the camp, re-packing the cart and hitching Polly. All that remained to be done when they woke was to pack away their quilt and smother the fire, which we did with expert precision.

  “How far is it to Harrogate?” I asked as Simon mounted the cart, and nudged up beside me.

  “About twenty five or so miles from York, if we can find an inn before the sun sets tonight it would be good,” he replied, looking
thoughtfully ahead as he steered Polly out of the clearing and back onto the road.

  ******

  CHAPTER 18

  As the days and nights passed and the air grew warmer, we drew ever nearer to the border of Scotland. Apart from being aware that we had headed steadily further north every day since leaving Harrogate, I still had no idea where Simon was taking us. Knowing that he would not tell me until he was ready, I had not bothered to ask again.

  We reached the isolated, white sandy beaches of Berwick-upon-Tweed. Above us, the seagulls cried as they soared over the tide which lashed furiously against the coast. As the wind howled off the sea and whipped relentlessly at the cart, I pulled Duncan closer to my chest wrapping the shawl tighter around us.

  “I thought it was supposed to be summer?” I shouted, hoping to be heard above the wind.

  “The weather up here is often like this Corran, you will get used to it soon enough,” he bellowed back.

  Duncan raised his head from the shawl and screwed up his eyes against the wind. Gently, I pushed his little head back against my chest and lowered my head over the top of his in an attempt to offer him some protection from the wind. I could see Simon pulling at the reins, struggling to keep the horse on its path as it too fought against the pounding force of the coastal gale. Spotting an inn up ahead, I pointed in its direction.

  “Let’s stop there Simon, I can’t keep myself and Duncan on the cart for the wind.”

  Simon drew the cart to a halt, signaling to me to take Duncan inside whilst he saw to the horse. I hunched protectively over Duncan as I carried him toward the inn door. Pulling the door toward me against the wind with one hand and hanging on to Duncan with the other, it was just about possible to open the door wide enough to squeeze through. I tumbled, in a rather undignified manner, straight into an elderly gentleman.