by J. L. Jarvis
“Are you so weak that you cannae manage alone?”
“Aye,” Alex said, as he walked by him and gave him a subtle kick in the ankle.
They served everyone ale, and then Charlie and Alex leaned against the window frame. Soon the others were engaged in lively conversation and Alex spoke to Charlie under his breath. “Look across at the wynd. There’s a figure there in the shadows. Do you see it?”
Charlie said, “I think I saw something move. I cannae be sure.”
Alex looked again. “He’s gone now.”
“He’s probably waiting for a friend.”
Alex stared down at the wynd. “Aye, that’s what I thought yesterday when I saw him.”
“I’ll tell the others to keep an eye on that wynd.”
“But there’s no need to frighten Mari.”
Charlie gave a nod as he turned from the window. “There are a dozen or more others who bide in this building. Even if he is watching this building, it could be for them.”
“Aye.” Alex frowned. “But still, I dinnae like leaving Mari alone.”
“We can take turns staying here.” Charlie sighed. “It’ll be hard for the lassies—not being with me.”
Alex winced. “Oh, indeed? The lassies tell me it’s not hard without you or with you.”
Alex dodged Charlie’s fist and escaped to the safety of Mari’s company. “I’ll take that tray for you, Mari, lass.”
“Why thank you, Alex.”
Alex took the tray, and tossed a mischievous smile back at Charlie.
21
Escape from the Finfolk
Callum opened his eyes to see an old woman sitting beside a peat fire and knitting. Wiry gray curls sprang from her cap, framing her plump face.
“Thou art awake!” The old woman came over and felt his forehead. “I’m fair blide to see thee feeling better.” She studied him with kind eyes, and then rose abruptly. “Here’s some soup for thee. A rookle o’ bones thou wert when we found thee.”
Callum looked at her, puzzled, as she brought him a bowl of soup.
“Beuy? Dost thou ken where thou art?”
He looked away as he tried to remember. “The ship sank… ”
“Aye, the finfolk nearly got thee.” Seeing Callum’s questioning look, she said, “The finfolk rise from the depths of the sea and take men to serve as their slaves.”
Callum gave little heed to her story. He could think only of how his head hurt, and how he needed to get back to Mari. “Where are we?”
“Scarva Taing.”
“Orkney?”
“Aye.”
“Duncan pulled me out of the hull.” He looked about the cottage. “Where’s Duncan?”
“Thou hast been asking for Duncan. An’ Mari, as well. I’ve no idea where they’ve geen.”
“Mari wasnae on the ship. But Duncan was.”
The old woman settled into troubled silence at the question of where Duncan might be.
“Thou maun sleep now. And when thou art awake, a grand talk we will have,” she said, tucking a blanket over his shoulders and smoothing his hair back as though he were a child. Feeling already weary, Callum drifted to sleep.
* * *
“Beuy.” Someone pushed his shoulder.
It was dark, except for the light of a candle on the table.
“Beuy, wake up.”
Callum opened his eyes and bolted up, ready to lunge at his attacker, when he saw that it was the old woman. “Sorry,” he said, withdrawing his arms and then putting a gentle hand on her forearm. “Have I hurt you?”
She spoke between deep breaths. “No. Faird of thee I was, but I kent thou did not mean it. Thou wert dreaming. Listen, beuy, men art about looking for folk frae the ship.”
Callum tried to get up, but she held him steady. “Some men—friends of mine—will come get thee and take thee to Stromness.”
“Stromness?”
“Aye. Thou cannae stay here. There is no place to hide. If they find thee, it’s to the plantations for thee, and to jail for me.”
Callum sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I dinnae want to put you at risk.”
She shook her head. “Dinnae be sorry. It was my choice to bring thee here. No one forced me.
“When thou get to Stromness, my friend Angus will hide thee until thee can board a ship to go hame.”
The old woman put some clothes on the bed. “Here, put these on.”
“Where’s my plaid?”
“Lost in this storm.”
“And my leine?”
She shook her head and suppressed a grin. “Thou arrived lightly dressed.” She went to the cupboard and pulled something out of a jar. “This was next to thine hand when they found thee.” She handed him the double-hearted charm Mari had given him. Seeing the faraway look on his face, she smiled gently and went back to her cooking. With her back to Callum, she busied herself while he put on a shirt, breeches, waistcoat, and coat. As she stirred a steaming pot, the old woman said, “Those belonged to one of my bairns. He was a strapping lad, but not quite so tall as thee.”
“You had a son?”
She smiled. “Three bairns I had. Lost at sea were they, and their father as well.”
“I’m sorry.” Callum thought of the loved ones he had lost, and he imagined how unbearable a loss Mari would be. She must think him dead now, and be grieving his loss. It made his heart ache.
When he was dressed, Callum sat at the small wooden table, feeling weary from the exertion of just getting dressed. His weakness frustrated him.
The old woman smiled to see him. “Aye, that will do. Thou could pass for an islander now.
“When it’s dark, they will come for thee. Here, eat this.” She put a large bowl of porridge before him at the table.
“Thank you… I’m sorry, I dinnae ken your name. Mine is Callum.”
“I am Phoebe. Phoebe Flett.”
“Thank you, Phoebe.”
She smiled and went to retrieve something. “This will help keep thee warm on thy journey,” she said as she poured a tot of whisky into his porridge.
While he ate, Phoebe bundled together some knitting. Its patterns were more intricate than any he had seen done by the women at home. When she saw Callum watching, she said, “The beuys look after me. When they go out to sea, they always take some of my knitting to sell in the ports down south. I grew up on Shetland, and learned the lace knitting from my mother, and she from her mother. It puts food on my table and keeps me busy. In spring and summer I fetch what I need for the dyes. I scrape moss off the rocks, collect seaweed, and gather heather, bloodroot, meadowsweet and dock. Could you help me with something?”
“Aye, Phoebe. What is it?” Callum was glad for the chance to help her. She had done so much for him. Although what help he could be in this weakened state was doubtful.
Phoebe looked at him frankly. “When the need arises, you could leave me some piss in that barrel outside the door. I use it for the dyeing.”
Callum laughed. “That should not be a problem. I’ve been told I’m quite full of it.”
“I thought as much,” Phoebe said with a grin. “Once I have all of my moss and flowers and roots, I can dye the wool, and then spin and knit through the winter. The beuys tell me it fetches a fine price, but I sometimes wonder if they dinnae add a bit of their own money to it. Folk here are like that. You cannae trust them to tell you the truth.” Phoebe tossed a knowing look with a twinkling eye.
Dark came in late afternoon. Callum was finishing his porridge when two farmers arrived with a plow horse for Callum to ride.
Seeing the horse, Phoebe said, “Good. I told them that you were not ready to walk for four hours to Stromness.”
While the men tied her bundle of knitting to the horse, she pressed a knitted cap into Callum’s hands. He put it on, and grasped her hands in his. “Phoebe, you’ve saved my life, fed me and clothed me, and I have nothing for you.”
Her warm nature shone through her eyes. “Wh
at thou will do is get home to thy Mari.” She smiled with glistening eyes, and gave Callum a hug.
* * *
A smoky gray light faintly outlined the edges of buildings as the men walked down the flagstone street of Stromness to the dock. Around the corner, the sound of a lone pair of gritty footsteps grew fainter. It was the desolate time before dawn, when the water lapped up against boats in the harbor as a reminder that there was something beyond the gray mist.
“This is Angus,” said one of the farmers. “It’s with him thou wilt go now.”
Callum’s head started to swim, and his knees buckled. Angus grabbed him under the arm and pulled the other arm over his shoulder and held it. “We’ll look like we’ve been out for a dram. Easy, we’re not in a hurry.”
As weak as he felt, Callum had no trouble making his feet roll and stagger like a ship with three sails to the wind.
The first stirrings of dock life were beginning. Steady footsteps approached.
Angus cautioned under his breath. “Act too drunk to talk, elsewise he’ll ken thee are not from here and ask questions.”
“Whit like the day?” called out the newcomer.
“Not bad at all,” answered Angus. As they drew closer, he hoisted Callum up by the armpits. Callum looked like a proper loose-jointed drunk.
“Angus, is that thee?”
“Aye.”
“Who’s that with thee?”
“It’s my friend Robbie.”
“Come in to port frae the weather?”
“Aye. It’s to whaling we’re off in the morn. Come, Robbie, a peedie more it is.”
The constable chuckled and walked on down the pier.
They boarded a small rowing boat and went out to a whaler. “This will take thee south.”
“To the mainland?” asked Callum.
Angus looked at him, puzzled.
A long while passed, until Callum looked away, thinking no answer was coming.
Angus said, “We’ve just been on the mainland. It’s to the south this will take thee.”
Seeing Callum’s puzzled expression, he added, “To Scotland.”
22
Highland Vengeance
Mari set down her basket of food from the market and opened the door. It was a lonely house now without Callum in it. The MacDonell lads were about every day, trying to distract her from her grief. She could not be distracted, but she no longer cried in front of them. She busied herself putting food away and tidying up. With that done, she picked up her needlework and sat down by the window.
A faint rap at the door pulled her back from her daydream of Callum. With a sigh, she rose. Those lads would not give her a moment of peace, but she loved them for it.
Mari opened the door. There stood a ragged wretch of a man. She was thinking of how to protect herself from him, when he spoke her name. Only then, from the sound of his voice, did she know him.
“Jamie?”
He collapsed in a heap at her feet. Mari pulled him inside far enough to close the door. She knelt down beside him, touching his face. “Jamie.”
He moaned. His eyes fluttered, trying to open, and then he was still. Mari rushed to the basin of water and brought back a damp cloth, which she pressed to his face and parched lips. Then she laid the cloth across his forehead. With trembling hands, she struggled to start a fire. “Blasted flint!”
At last she set the kettle on the hook over the fire and returned to her brother with a cup of water. She squeezed drops of water into his mouth. “Jamie. Jamie, wake up.”
When at last he opened his eyes, he smiled up at her.
“Drink this,” she told him. It revived him enough to be helped up, leaning on Mari, guided to the bed. There he lay propped up on pillows. Mari brought him the broth and a thick slice of bread, which he eagerly took.
“Dinnae fash. I just fainted. I’ve not eaten in a sennight. Have you any more bread?”
“Aye. Jamie, why are you here?”
“I’m sorry, Marion.”
“You should be,” she said. “Do you ken what you’ve done?”
“What? Oh, the escape. But surely you were not held to blame.”
Mari’s face flushed with anger. “No, but Callum was!”
“Was he?” said Jamie, barely looking up as he ate.
“He took your place.”
Jamie sopped up the last of the broth with his bread. “Serves him right, the Highland Royalist scum.”
Mari slapped his face. “He was my husband, and he died in your place!”
Jamie gave her a look nearly devoid of emotion. “I am sorry.”
Mari stared in disbelief.
He said, “But the truth is, the cause is better served with me alive and one less Royalist to oppress us.”
“I never knew you to be cruel.”
“Marion, we are engaged in a battle for God. We cannae let our own feelings get in the way.”
“Feelings? Like your feelings for Ellen?”
Jamie’s harsh look started to crumble, but he forced back the emotions that caught in his throat.
Mari said, “You have caused such a loss for me. Can you not see that?”
“I couldnae turn from my calling.” He spoke gently, but it hurt just the same.
She quietly said, “Your calling?”
“Aye. I will do all that I can to defeat papist tyranny.”
“And just what have you done that was worth Callum’s life?”
“I’ve been fighting for freedom. Do you not recall how we were forced to sneak around just to worship?”
Mari exhaled wearily. “Jamie. All of this fighting, and nothing has changed—except Callum is dead.”
“That isnae my fault.”
“It’s your fault that he’s gone, and I miss him.”
“Just as I miss Ellen. Do you not see it’s the same?”
Mari looked at him with eyes full of sorrow. “I miss Ellen, too. She was my dearest friend. What happened to her was a terrible thing. But my husband didnae cause it, nor does his death pay for it.”
“I didnae put him on that ship. It was his own people that did that.”
“But you had to have known it would happen.”
Jamie scoffed. “How? It was a shipwreck. How could I have known that would happen?”
Mari’s eyes darted about as anger welled up within her. “Someone had to take your place, and you knew it.”
“Marion.” He waited for her to meet his fixed gaze. “I didnae ken about that. How could I?”
“It was in the written order from the Privy Council.”
“With a bitter chuckle, Jamie said, “Do you think they sat us all down and read it to us like a story? Och, no. They herded us into pens as if we were cattle. All I did was to escape. I didnae ken it would hurt you.”
Mari’s anger turned to heartache, for she knew that her brother was telling the truth. She put her hand on his, and he grasped it and hugged her. Before her emotions overwhelmed her, Mari took hold of his shoulders and smiled. “Look at you. You look like you’ve crawled out of a byre.”
“I’ve been in hiding until the time’s right to take action.”
Mari shook her head weakly. “More fighting.”
“If we cannae worship as we choose, then what are our lives worth? I will fight and, if need be, I will die for freedom.”
“I believe that you will. And then I’ll have no one left.”
A loud rap at the door startled them both. “Dinnae answer it,” Jamie whispered.
“Why?”
“Someone’s following me. Bolt the door.” Jamie got up and looked out the window.
“Och, Jamie! What have you brought to my home?”
Before he could answer, another loud rapping sounded. Mari carefully stepped toward the door. After Jamie fainted, she had left it unbolted to tend to him. Now she would have to do it without making a sound. Halfway to the door, the wooden floor creaked; she froze. Any of the lads would have called out her name. It was quiet. H
ad they gone? Mari took another step, and another.
With a booming crash, the door opened. Mari flinched as her eyes locked on the piercing gaze of Lieutenant Kilgour. In a flash, she relived it—the dark moor, the crack of the gunfire as Jamie and Ellen were shot, and Kilgour on top of her. She stepped back and stumbled against the table. Spying a kettle of broth in the kitchen, Mari seized it and hurled it at him, but it had been off the fire for too long for the liquid to scald him. He deflected the kettle with the palm of his hand as he sneered.
“I see you’ve not lost your charm, minx. Come, gie us a kiss.” He grabbed her arms and slammed her back against the wall. Then he ground his stiff groin against hers. Mari fought against his overpowering strength as he clamped his hand about her chin and cheeks and forced his mouth over hers. She tried to keep her mind focused on how to escape. He leaned his forehead against hers and said softly, “Now why dinnae you tell me where he is?”
“My husband has stepped out—but he’s coming back any moment,” she added, hoping the lie would persuade him to leave.
“Husband, is it? And which one would that be?” He grinned with cold eyes. “I’ve been watching you, minx. You’re a busy girl. You’ve got so many dragoons coming in and out that I’m hard pressed to find you alone. But I’m a patient man. I knew he would show up sooner or later, and then I’d have my turn with you.”
Before she could respond, he spied the closed door to the bedroom. With the swipe of an arm, he hurled her aside. She crashed into the table, and clutched a chair to right herself. With desperate haste, she said, “Why bother with the bedroom? You can take me here,” she said, hoping to buy Jamie time.
He flashed a chilling smile. “Dinnae worry. I will.” Then he kicked in the bedroom door and strode in.
Mari followed. The bedroom was empty, but the curtains billowed from the open window. Kilgour chuckled, knowing they were too high up for Jamie to jump. He strode to the window and cautiously looked out, ready to seize Jamie from the ledge. Mari waited, heart pounding. Kilgour stuck his head out the window, but found nothing.
