‘Heaven help your maidservants then,’ sniggered Edmund. ‘But seriously, I’d like to have my palm read.’
The Duke stopped in his tracks and said, ‘All right then, let’s go and find her. She’ll read your palm for a guinea. They’ll do anything for a guinea!’
Eyes glistening, the gypsy woman sat huddled together and watched the strangers patrolling their camp. Some of the younger ones, like Thomassin who had reached the safety of the camp again, recoiled into the shadows when Edmund and the Duke passed but old Rachel was not afraid. She sat smoking her clay pipe and watched them approaching. When he saw her, the Duke’s manservant reached forward and tapped his employer on the shoulder, indicating Rachel. She took the pipe out of her mouth and said in her most ingratiating voice, ‘Cross my loof wi’ siller, gentlemen, and I’ll look into the future for you.’
Edmund laughed excitedly and picked some coins out of the little pocket in the front of his waistcoat, selected one and with a flick of his thumb sent it spinning in Rachel’s direction. She ignored it but the darting small girl Esther, who had eyes like a hawk, picked it up from the ground.
‘A half-guinea, rajah! You’ll get a good future for a half-guinea,’ Rachel told him though he could not tell how she knew the value of the coin he had thrown to her because she had not touched it.
‘But you’d have a better one for a guinea,’ interjected the Duke roughly.
Edmund made a shrugging movement with his shoulders and moved towards the old woman. She indicated that he should sit down at her side which he did, holding out his right hand. The flames from the fire dappled their faces as she turned the palm between hers and held it up to the light. A silence hung over them for what seemed like a long time until she sighed and said, ‘I see a life of privilege, that’s what I see for you. But not a long one. You’re right to enjoy yourself, rajah, and make the best of it.’
The young man’s face darkened and laughter was forgotten. ‘I’m not to have a long life? I thought you fortune-tellers didn’t tell people bad things.’
She shook her head. ‘I tell people what I see in their hands. If they don’t want to hear it, they shouldn’t come to Rachel. But your time’s not come yet – don’t worry. Not yet. There’s still some life left for you.’
The Duke peered over his friend’s shoulder and nudged him as he asked, ‘Does he marry a wife, old woman?’
‘No wife. No children. Many friends but few of them true,’ she said and dropped the hand.
‘Huh, you didn’t have much joy for your half-guinea. Satisfied?’ the Duke jeered unsympathetically at his companion.
Edmund stood up with an angry look on his face. ‘All right, let her see your hand. You’re not afraid, are you?’
‘No, I’m not afraid. I don’t believe in the nonsense, that’s all. It’s trickery for fools.’
‘Then anything she tells you won’t worry you. Stick out your hand and let her have a look at it.’ While this exchange was going on between them Rachel sat staring up at the man with her black eyes inscrutable.
The challenge made the Duke hesitate and the matter was decided when Rachel rose to her feet and reached out for his left hand saying, ‘You’re Foxy-pawed, aren’t you? Your family are all that way. Let me look at your wast.’ She did not ask for any money.
Still pretending indifference he allowed her to turn his spatulate hand upwards and trace the lines with her forefinger. ‘Riches, power, pleasure – too much pleasure… you have had them all. A lucky chance changed your life a few years ago. You stint yourself nothing…’
Then she dropped the hand so quickly that he was taken by surprise and his arm dropped down on to his thigh as if it was lifeless. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ he asked.
‘That’s all,’ she replied coldly and turned away.
He put out a hand to stop her, seizing her by the shoulder. ‘Wait. What else is there?’
Edmund chimed in, ‘Yes, tell him. He’s not afraid to hear it because he doesn’t believe in fortune-telling.’ There was malice in his voice.
Slowly Rachel turned round and stared up at the Duke’s face while she asked him, ‘Do you really want to be dukkered?’
‘Well, I don’t want to leave it like this,’ he grumbled, and held his hand out again.
She sighed. ‘On your own head be it, then. Cross my palm with money.’
‘I might have guessed you’d trick me into paying,’ he said with relief in his voice as he handed over a golden coin. Then he extended his left hand once more.
Rachel’s face was shadowed as she looked into it and suddenly she started to speak in a chanting voice, almost singing her predictions, ‘You are stalked by demons of your own making. There is no running away from them however hard you try. Just when you think you’ve cheated retribution, it will seize you. Your plans will all tumble like cardboard. Your fate waits for you now. It is in the shape of a man and very close… take care.’ The last words were hissed and in the silence they hung in the air. Everyone present drew in their breath and held it, as if afraid to let it out again.
The Duke was the first to break the silence and he said in a shaken voice, ‘It’s mumbo jumbo. It doesn’t mean anything. Come on, Edmund, I’ve had enough of this.’
Rachel put out a hand and held his sleeve as he told him, ‘Beware. Your son is a man now, my lord.’
He turned and shouted at her, ‘I haven’t got a damned son. I’ve no children. I’m not even married yet.’
Rachel’s sloe eyes were fixed on his face. ‘I’m only telling you what I see in your hand.’
‘You’re a wicked old liar. You’re like all the others, whispering about the curse. It’s nonsense. I’ll prove it wrong.’
Grabbing Edmund by the coat sleeve he went storming down the hill.
* * *
All through the long night the hunt went on for Billy. Jem looked into every hiding place he could imagine, upturning pedlars’ packs and disturbing people sleeping on the ground. There was no sign of the fugitive and no one had seen him. Eventually, Simon prevailed on him, ‘For God’s sake, Jem, go home and lie down for a bit or you’ll drop. If he’s still about in the field, someone’ll see him eventually. He’s easy to spot and if he’s far away there’s not much you can do about it anyway. We should tell the law officers he’s bolted and let them get on with looking for him.’
Jem still did not want to call in the law in their search for Billy. ‘They’ll shoot him as soon as they see him. They’ll be afraid of him and won’t give him a chance,’ he demurred.
‘Maybe it’s bound to happen. Go home and lie down,’ ordered Simon, pushing his staggering brother off in the direction of the freak show.
On his way there Jem met the dark-haired gypsy lad who was also looking exhausted but he stopped beside the showman and asked, ‘Have you found him yet?’
Jem’s face took on a guarded look. ‘You mean Billy?’
‘Yes, have you found him?’
‘No, I haven’t. There’s not a trace of him.’
‘Somebody must have helped him,’ said Jesse. Then he yawned and told Jem, ‘I’m going to sleep for a couple of hours and then I’ll start looking again. Let me know if you find out anything.’
Jem put out a hand and detained the young man. ‘Why are you bothered about Billy?’ he asked.
‘He’s a member of my family. His mother was one of us,’ said Jesse tersely.
When Jem reached his caravan, he paused in the clearing before its door and sent up a prayer asking that Alice would be inside. Then, very slowly he climbed the steps and pushed open the door but his shoulders slumped in despair when he saw that the interior was empty. On the table lay his pistol pinning down a sheet of paper. When he read what was written on it, he threw himself face down on his bunk and wept like a child.
* * *
Alice was lost. Though she sat up bravely in the saddle as she rode along, she was quivering with apprehension inside. The dangers of the dark road obsessed h
er, every rustle of sound, every movement made her blood freeze for she expected to be apprehended any minute. Although he had promised to let her escape without recapture, she knew perfectly well that Elliot was not to be trusted. She had gone off with his precious papers, evidence of the greed and cupidity that had ruled his life. He would want them back. It was true that Hester had admitted killing the baby, but that admission had been made before no witnesses except Alice herself and Elliot, who knew Hester to be guilty anyway for he had put her up to it. The court had not believed Alice the first time when she pleaded her innocence, and there was no reason for them to believe her now.
When she set off south, Alice had decided to take the most direct route out of Scotland, heading in the direction of Yetholm but skirting the villages by a twisting lane that led across the Border and down to Alnwick. She had a good horse which maintained a steady, ground-covering canter as well as a head start, so the chances were that she’d reach the sanctuary of England before pursuers could catch up with her. But she was afraid and she knew she had to hurry.
It was years since Alice had passed along the lane she was using and even then she’d only ridden it in daytime. There were no signposts on the remote tracks, for the people who used them were only going short distances and knew their way about. Each time Alice came to a fork – and there were many forks leading off to distant farms – she had to draw on the reins and take her bearings from the stars.
At about three o’clock in the morning, when she was giddy with exhaustion, she found herself riding past a steading she recognised. She’d been that way only half an hour previously. Panic rose in her when she realised that she had come a full circle and had no idea how far she had travelled or where she was. When dawn came and the stars disappeared, she would not even have them to guide her.
She spurred her horse onwards, heading for a tall, bell-shaped hill whose outline she remembered from past journeys. It was one of a range that marked the Border.
Keeping it in her eye she drove her heels into the horse’s sides but it stumbled forward on its knees. As she pulled it up she realised with a sickening lurch in her stomach that it could no longer trot properly for it had gone lame. Hurriedly she dismounted and lifted the front foreleg. The fetlock was hot and swollen. It was impossible to drive the animal on any further. The pursuers would easily outride her now. In despair Alice let her head drop forward and tears scalded her cheeks. To have come so far, to have accomplished so much and now to be caught so ignominiously. Elliot would be delighted.
She crouched down thinking furiously and eventually decided there was only one thing left to do. She would have to leave the road and take to the rough, trackless country that stretched for hundreds of square miles around her. Leading the limping horse by the bridle she struck off across a wide spreading moor and disappeared into the dawn mist.
* * *
Alice was right to mistrust her husband because long before dawn broke Andrew Elliot had made his plans. It was bitter for him to have to accept that nothing could be done about Grace’s marriage. If she and her shepherd had gone through a hand-fasting ceremony, as long as they’d done it before witnesses, her father would not be able to overturn it. He would not miss Grace for he had no fatherly feelings for the girl but the reason he had held on to her and wanted to continue doing so was to secure her property. There would be no trouble finding out where she’d gone and he made up his mind when the problem of Lucy was solved, he’s seek out his daughter and make an agreement with her. He’d have to hand over some of her inheritance but not all, of that he was determined. A bargain would be struck more easily, however, if he had her mother in his hands. He knew how soft-hearted Grace was and he’d play on her emotions… Lucy would be turned over to the law and the scaffold unless some settlement was made between them. But first he had to catch his fleeing wife.
The roofs of the houses were glittering with dew and the grey cobbles were slippery beneath his boot soles when he went down the street, calling first at one house and then at another rounding up his helpers, all of them young men who were eager to earn a guinea or who owed him a favour.
Each was given a description of the woman who called herself Alice Archer; each of them was told where to ride to intercept her if she chose to take any one of the four possible routes out of Scotland. They were to position themselves on bridges or on narrow roads which she would have to use and Elliot was confident they’d catch her if they rode fast and went cross-country to their vantage points. When they caught her, they were to bring her back to him and he would decide when and if she was to be handed over to the authorities. He smiled as he thought of that.
* * *
When the mists swirled away from the crowns of the hills, the new day was revealed brilliant and shining. Birds sprang up from the empty moors into the vast upturned bowl of the sky, making cries of outrage because their isolation was breached by two people on a plodding horse. The newly-weds, Grace and Adam Scott, came over the top of the tallest hill and Adam stared down into the valley. The cluster of greystone cottages were huddled together in the middle of a green sward, like scattered children’s toys left over from some giant’s nursery. He stopped the horse in its steady tread and spoke softly to the girl on the pillion behind him. ‘Look, Grace. There it is. We’re nearly home. Another half an hour and we’ll be there.’
She was dozing with her head against his back and one arm around his waist. His voice made her drift back to consciousness, blinking and yawning. The brilliance and beauty of the world made her imagine that she had drifted from one lovely dream into another that was even better, and little by little she summoned up memories of the events of the previous day. Then she blinked. It wasn’t possible. All those things could not have happened to her in the space of twenty-four hours! But there he was, her husband, half-turned in the saddle, smiling at her and saying, ‘Look, Grace. That’s Fairhope down there. My mother’s got the chimney smoking. There’ll be a grand welcome waiting for us.’
He was right. When they clip-clopped into the yard, Leeb came dashing out with her face aglow and crying, ‘Mam, Dad, it’s Adam and that bonny lassie.’ Hands reached up and helped Grace to the ground, arms were thrown around her and kisses pressed to her cheek.
‘You’ve come home! Oh, I’m glad to see you,’ cried Catherine Scott in genuine delight.
* * *
In the dark depths of the wood it took longer for the firstof colour to be seen in the patches of purple above the treetops. When they did appear Billy crept out of his overnight hiding place, shuddering with hunger and cold. Hopelessly he stared around the grassy enclosure within the old tower and started nervously when an owl flapped very close above his head. It was making its way home from a night’s hunting and he watched it settle itself in a hidden perch among the thick ivy on the walls. He walked over to look at the snare Thomassin had set. A terrified rabbit was thrashing about in it. Billy raised one foot intending to stamp on its skull but it looked up at him out of enormous rolling eyes and instead of killing it, he knelt down, loosed it from the snare and watched it flop away, darting here and there in its mindless terror.
There was a pile of stones on a rise of ground behind the tower and he climbed up on to them. From the top he could see out over the valley. Below him was a big mansion house sitting among green lawns and farther over, across the river, the white tents of the Fair field glittered in the morning light. As the sky cleared the watching Billy began to see people making their way around the field. He felt lonely and wished he was with them, sharing the excitement of packing up to move on, for few stayed more than one day at St James’ Fair any more.
Billy wondered why Jem did not come and fetch him. He was down there among the tents, packing, harnessing the horses and urging on the quarrelling freaks. Bread and ale would be passed around among them for breakfast. Billy’s mouth watered with hunger and he longed for the sound of a voice to tell him what to do. Even the iron bars of his cage and the shackles tha
t used to be locked around his ankles did not seem so bad any longer. He scratched his leg reflectively. The sore on his ankle was healing and he no longer felt any desire to open it again and watch it bleed. He did not leave his hiding place because he remembered that Thomassin had told him to wait there until she came back and he trusted her. She would come, he was sure of it.
In his isolation there was nothing to do but sit among the stones with hunger hurting his stomach and spy on what was going on below him. He was frightened of being alone, and wished that the girl with the slanting eyes would hurry. Her shawl around his shoulders smelt of her and he sank his face into it. He loved her. He’d never met anyone so beautiful who did not treat him as something to be feared. ‘Come back, Thomassin,’ he cried aloud in a voice of despair.
It was as if she’d heard him calling, for within minutes her slim figure came towards him, slipping through the trees, over walls and ditches, under thickets of shrubbery and into the deepest part of the woods of the park. When she reached the tower she was breathless and panting and her green skirt was stained with patches of wet where the dew had soaked it.
‘Billy,’ she whispered, gazing at the empty vault of the chimney-place. ‘Billy, where are you?’
A rattle of stones announced his presence as he came clambering down from his eyrie. He was smiling with pleasure at seeing her again.
‘I’ve brought you food and some clothes. You’re going on an outing, Billy,’ she said, holding out a dark bundle and a basket that contained a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese that she had stolen from another traveller’s caravan on her way across the field. The clothes turned out to be a long black cape, a big-brimmed pedlar’s hat and a pair of heavy boots – all stolen, too.
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