“Thank ye, Jeannie, Dougie,” Crissy said as she kissed both of them, and then she turned and left without looking back.
Jeannie crossed herself. “A’ the way tae the Lowlands, Dougie,” she said grimly. “A lang road an’ a dangerous ane. I hope she is a’ right.”
“Aye,” Dougie replied. “She is a lovely lass, easy prey for a’ they footpads on the road.”
“I will pray for her,” Jeannie whispered.
Despite her fear of boats, Crissy was beginning to wish she had taken one. It was fast and relatively safe, as well as having shelter from the elements. For the moment she had enough supplies of food to get her to Aberdeen, where she would be able to replenish her supplies and rest for a day. After that she would go on as fast as she could, probably by foot, but by farm cart if she found one going her way. She wished she had a horse, a pony, or even a donkey, and laughed at the thought. She would be thrown off in five minutes! She looked up at the gathering clouds in the sky, which promised rain very soon. It arrived a few moments later in a steady downpour.
She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body, and transferred her bag in her arms so that she was embracing it rather than carrying it. At least it would keep her belongings a little drier. She trudged on, staying slightly behind the tree line for shelter and camouflage.
Three farm carts passed, but the ponies pulling them were all going at a fast trot to get to town as quickly as possible, and they all contained men; two in one and three in each of the others. As a single female traveler, she did not trust men, since she was so vulnerable. She was carrying nothing valuable except for Lewis’s gold necklace which she thought was very safely hidden, but men posed other dangers to a defenseless woman. She wished she had stolen one of the kitchen knives now, at least to give herself a little fighting chance, but it was too late now that she was on the road.
However, she picked up a stout branch a few steps further on and stripped the twigs from it. It would make a passable weapon, she thought.
The rain was slackening. Crissy had managed to stay relatively dry, although her cloak was soaked with mud up to her ankles. She went out of the shelter of the trees to where the path was a little less mucky. She could be seen from the road now, but would still be able to run into the trees if necessary.
Presently she heard the sound of hoofbeats coming along the road behind her. A farm cart was approaching, but this one had a woman in it, and she was looking straight at Crissy.
“Hey, lass!” the woman called, beckoning to her. “Ye cannae be walkin’ on a day like this!” She got down from the cart, which was carrying a load of turnips, and invited her to get in. Crissy hesitated, still unsure.
“Where are ye goin’?” she asked.
The woman smiled; she radiated kindness. She was middle-aged with long graying hair and warm brown eyes almost the same color as Lewis’s, and it was this that finally made Crissy take a chance.
“We are goin’ tae Aberdeen, hen,” she laughed. “Sure, there’s naewhere else tae go on this road! We willnae bite ye, hen!”
“Ye must let me pay ye somethin’,” Crissy said as she got up on the front seat between them. She was surprised at this. A wife did not usually let a strange woman sit next to her husband. It made her feel a little uneasy, however.
“Pfft! We are goin’ the same way! Dinnae fash yerself, hen,” the woman replied. “I am Kenzie an’ this is my brother Shuggie.”
Crissy was relieved; a brother was an entirely different matter!
They went on along the road, and presently some fitful sunshine came out. Kenzie gave her a drink of water, took some herself, then began to chatter about the weather, her children, their house, her church, and all sorts of mundane matters that were the stuff of conversation for ordinary people. Crissy began to feel drowsy with the motion of the cart.
“Tired, hen?” Kenzie asked. She patted her shoulder. “It’s the shoogle o’ the cairt. Ye’re no’ used tae it. Pit yer heid on my shoulder an’ rest yer eyes. Next thing ye knaw we’ll be in Aberdeen.”
Crissy did so gratefully, and in a few moments she was fast asleep. “Is that no’ sweet?” Kenzie smiled at her brother over Crissy’s head, and he smiled back, showing a mouthful of broken and blackened teeth.
“Aye,” he replied sorrowfully. “I almos’ feel sorry for her. She’s such a bonnie wee thing.” He sighed.
“She’s no wee—look at the length o’ them legs!” Kenzie laughed. “An’ don’t you be gettin’ ony ideas, Shuggie ma boy! We havenae got time tae waste the day while you have yer fun!”
Kenzie noticed the stick. She held it up to Shuggie and he laughed at it before tossing it carelessly out of the cart. Both siblings were strongly built and could easily have overcome Crissy, staff or not, even if there had been room to wield it in the cart.
“When I wis helpin’ her intae the cairt I think I saw a wee gleam o’ somethin’ doon here.” Kenzie gently lifted the neckline of Crissy’s blouse. “Aye,” she said, her eyes gleaming with malicious triumph as she held up a gold Celtic cross with a ruby in the center.
“There’s a good three month’s livin’ in that, sister!” Shuggie gloated. “Whit did ye pit in that watter?”
“Dinnae you mind! I wis careful no’ tae drink any. It worked, did it no’?” Kenzie gazed greedily at the necklace, and then looked up and down the road. There was no one else around.
Unfortunately, Kenzie had underestimated the amount of the sleeping draught it took to sedate Crissy. Crissy opened her eyes groggily and yawned. “Are we—” The question was cut off as she realized that they were not in Aberdeen, but by the roadside, and suddenly the couple she had thought to be kind strangers were not looking benevolent any more. She struggled to sit up but Kenzie pushed her down again, and the warm brown eyes were now hard with malice.
“Ye should be careful who ye trust, hen,” Kenzie said, shaking her head and sighing. “There’s bad people aboot.”
Crissy was too scared to speak, but when she saw that the woman was holding the cross, she began to cry. It had been Lewis’s last gift to her. She tried desperately to play on Kenzie’s sympathy. “Please,” she begged, “it belanged tae my mither.”
“Well noo it belangs tae me!” Kenzie snapped. “Take it aff. Onyway, I’m guessin’ yer Mammy’s deid, an’ she willnae need it where she is! Yer bag!”
Crissy took off the necklace and held it out to Kenzie, who snatched it out of her hand. Then she handed the bag over, grateful that there was nothing of value in it except for a stout pair of leather shoes that she wore only on Sundays. Kenzie rifled through it, looked at the shoes, then pawed through the rest of the contents. She threw the bag to her brother before looking at the necklace again, and then she put it on.
“How dae I look?” she asked, giving Crissy a repulsive smile. “Thank ye very much, for the gift Mistress Crissy, it is lovely.”
A shaft of pure rage shot through Crissy as she saw her beautiful pendant hanging from the neck of the loathsome robber. It was probably going to be sold to a middle man who would sell it to someone who had no idea of its quality and no appreciation of its beauty.
They might, God forbid, even melt it down for its gold, and the thought enraged her so much that she threw herself on Kenzie and tried to hit her with a bunched right fist on the point of her jaw, but Kenzie was a strong woman. She caught Crissy’s wrist and squeezed it so tightly that Crissy thought the bones were going to break. Crissy screamed, then Kenzie twisted her arm behind her back and pulled a handful of her hair back so that Crissy was unable to move at all. She stopped resisting and Kenzie laughed at her scornfully.
“That’s right hen, mak it easy on yersel,’” she scoffed. “There’s twa o’ us an’ ane o’ you. Tis only a bauble—no worth dyin’ for!”
Shuggie saw that Kenzie had the situation in hand, so he had taken his whisky flask from under the seat and was enjoying a mouthful or so. He ambled over to Kenzie to let her enjoy a dram or two, then they both l
ooked at their prisoner assessingly.
Shuggie looked as his sister with raised eyebrows and she nodded. A decision had been made; they were going to kill her.
Crissy’s knees had given way and she had sagged to the ground on her knees. She was breathing heavily, and she looked in terrified silence at Shuggie, who was now slapping the fist of one hand into the palm of the other as if practicing for a fight.
He was not a tall man, but he was well-built with prominent muscles on his arms, and his fists were like clubs. The blow which he delivered to her jaw knocked her flat onto the mud.
Dazed and winded, she tried to get to her feet, but he came and kicked her down again, then stood looking at her contemptuously. Her ribs and jaw were afire with pain, and she groaned in agony as she lay on the ground, but Shuggie was not finished with her yet.
Crissy curled into a ball, but it was not enough to protect her from the vicious kicks and punches to which the brothers and sisters subjected her. She felt a rib break with a sickening crack, and then she was turned over and forcibly uncurled, leaving her stomach and chest open to attack. This time it was Kenzie who was pummeling her. She had stopped screaming, for she no longer had the strength to do so, and she was almost grateful when strong hands closed around her neck and she lapsed into unconsciousness.
The brother and sister looked down at their victim contemptuously.
“Is she deid?” Kenzie asked.
Shuggie bent down and listened to her mouth for a moment to satisfy himself that Crissy was not breathing. “Aye, I think I done a good job there!” He dusted off his hands in a satisfactory manner, then smiled grimly. “That’ll teach wee lassies no’ tae mess wi’ the McCutcheons!” Shuggie gave her a last kick and Kenzie spat on her, and they went hastily back to their cart to hide their booty under the turnips.
“She broke ma necklace, the bitch!” Kenzie wailed. Shuggie shook his head and said nothing. With Kenzie, sometimes it was best to keep quiet.
The last thing Crissy heard before lapsing into unconsciousness was the cart driving away. I am sorry, Lewis, she thought, then she passed out.
12
Searching for Crissy
When Ewan arrived, Lewis had not yet returned. Annoyed, he got off his horse and went to see the Captain of the guard.
“Campbell,” he said irritably, “where is the young laird?”
“He went out a while ago to find Crissy Munro, Sir,” he answered. “She left at the crack of dawn and the young laird is very upset. He went out a while ago, but says he will be back soon. He says you should wait for him.”
Ewan frowned and told his men to dismount and water their horses. Lewis came back a short while later, looking anxious and frustrated. When Ewan saw him his anger disappeared and he went over to embrace his friend.
“No sign of her?” Ewan asked gently.
Lewis shook his head. “No, but perhaps we will do better if there are more of us.”
Ewan looked at him with doubt in his eyes. “It is a big area, Lewis. It covers your estate and that of the Balfours, as well as some smaller farms. It is very unlikely we will find her. Also…” he hesitated, and then rushed on, “you are a laird. Would you search for a housemaid under any other circumstances but these?”
The glare from Lewis’s eyes was frightening in its intensity. “I understand if you do not think it is worth helping me, but if you do not want to come I will go on my own. Thank you.”
Ewan shook his head, grinned at his friend, and put an arm around his shoulders. Lewis was overcome with relief. He loved Ewan like a brother and could not imagine doing the search without his help and moral support.
They mounted and set out. Lewis was doubly agitated, since he had been unable to find Crissy the first time.
What if she is hurt? he thought desperately. What if she is lying in a pool of blood somewhere?
He shook the thoughts out of his head and went on. I will do what I have to, for she means so much to me. But God, tell me I will not have to follow her all the way to the Lowlands.
Eventually the men met up again at their agreed meeting point, having searched around all the estates in the area all the way to the village. It was twilight, and although the situation was not ideal, Lewis could not bear to wait until morning.
“I am going into the village,” he announced. “I think two people can manage this Ewan, so send your men home.”
Ewan made the announcement and the tired riders turned and went their separate ways. It had been a very long dispiriting day, with nothing to show for it, and they were glad it was over.
Both men canvassed every shop in the street with no result. It was almost dark before they got to the baker’s shop. Ewan took one look at the bannocks and bought four, two for each of them. He was starving.
“Thank ye M’laird,” Jeannie said politely as she took his money.
Ewan laughed. “I am not the Laird, thank God,” Ewan said, laughing. He jerked a thumb at Lewis. “He is. Laird Lewis Crawford the Younger.”
“I beg your pardon M’laird,” she apologized with a curtsey.
“I am looking for a lady called Crissy Munro,” Lewis said. “She is a maidservant at my castle and she has gone missing. She is a very valued member of my staff and I would like to find her. Do you know her? She comes into the village quite often.”
Jeannie looked into the young laird’s eyes and for the first time in her life told a bold, deliberate lie.
“Naw, M’laird, sorry.” Her heart was hammering with fear.
“If you see her can you tell her I was looking for her?” he asked. Jeannie almost blurted out everything she knew because of the pleading expression in his eyes.
“I will, M’laird.” She smiled. “Good luck. I hope ye find her.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “I do too.”
Ewan left him to go home, and Lewis, exhausted, went too. He ate dinner, but had to force the food down, and spent a while going over the events of the day, trying to find a tiny clue in something he had thought was irrelevant.
Afternoon turned to evening, and he sighed as he remembered that he still had something to do. He was tempted to put it off for the next day but that would not make it go away, so he reasoned that he might as well be done with it.
As soon as he got into his bedroom he sat at his writing desk and began to write letters, one to every land owner and laird in the area. He had only a slim hope that any one of them would care enough to search or write back to him, but he had to try. He owed it to Crissy.
As he was finishing his last letter he looked outside and realized that it was dark. His mother came in. She sat down with a sigh, and her face wore a concerned, loving look. He put his quill down, blotted his paper, and looked up at her, smiling tiredly.
“I take it you had no luck?” she asked.
“None at all,” he answered, passing his hands over his eyes and yawning. “No one has seen her.”
“Perhaps she does not want to be seen, son,” Laura said gently. “She left of her own free will, or so your father tells me.”
“There are kinds of free will that are not free at all, Mother,” he answered, his voice grim with anger. “When conditions become so bad that even if you stay by choice, life becomes so intolerable that you have to leave. Is that free will?”
Laura nodded slowly. “I can see that you love her very much,” she observed. “I have never spoken to you about this before, but your father and I had an arranged marriage like most nobles. I was innocent, but your father was already a man of the world. I disliked him at first—hate is too strong a word for it. However, later I began to like him, and then love him, but Bryce was conceived during that period of dislike, and I always wondered if that had affected him. You were born out of love, Lewis. That is why I think it is important for you to marry the woman you love, because if you do not, you may have a child who turns out like Bryce. This may all seem fanciful to you, but I truly believe it.”
Lewis looked down at hi
s hands where they lay on the table. He thought about what his mother said and nodded slowly. “It makes sense in a strange kind of way, Mother,” he said, smiling. “And I am glad that I was born out of love.”
“Your father can be a difficult man,” Laura sighed. “But as much as he is capable of cruelty, he is capable of great love too, though it took me a long time to discover it.” She looked at Lewis and smiled, taking his hand in hers. “I believe you will find her, Lewis, if you truly want to, and bend all your thought and will towards it. I believe you will.”
For the first time, Lewis felt hopeful. “Do you really believe that, Mother?” he asked doubtfully, too scared to believe it.
“I do.” She stood up, kissed his forehead, and held his head against her for a moment. “Can you sleep now?”
Lewis stood up, yawning. “I hope so, Mother,” he replied. “But I may need to resort to something medicinal.”
“Do what you have to do, Lewis.” Laura smiled. “Sleep as long as you want, and if there is anything I can help you with, let me know. I have a few resources of my own, you see.”
Lewis wondered what she meant by that, but kept quiet, only wishing her goodnight. He drank a large mug of valerian tea and went to bed, but he was still restless. He had always relied on his instinct as a guide to his actions, and it did not fail him now. Crissy was in danger; he could feel it.
He did not sleep at all that night. Something was about to happen, and he could feel it like the coming of an approaching storm. In the heart of the darkest hours of the night he got up and made his way to the turrets, surprising the guards. He was tired to the point of exhaustion, but rest eluded him; he could only see a picture in his mind of Crissy, lying battered, bruised, and bleeding by the roadside. There was dirt in her hair, and her few belongings were gone. However, there was a road beside her, and all he had to do was find it.
The vision haunted him till dawn, and he was determined to go out searching again, but this time alone.
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